#Nietzsche’s Walk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stillmonsterz · 7 months ago

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rosebud

pairing: jay x reader, sunghoon x reader genre: smut with plot summary: ever since your mother passed away, your stepfather has been there for you. but when your old crush finally makes a move on you, you find that you want to pursue something different. one night won't change a thing, right? contains: unprotected sex, dubcon, mentions of death, infidelity (?), "humor", piv, blowjobs word count: 8.6k (unproofread) taglist: @belowbun @moon7jay @ui11iane @bambangan A/N: I didn't intend to write this, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!

You tasted the dish you had made once more before setting the spoon down and closing the lid on the pot. Perfect. Jay would love it. You both worked full-time jobs, but he did so much around the house that you liked to have dinner waiting for him. You were a better cook than him, anyways.

You washed your hands and decided to head to the couch while you waited for him to come home. It was your ritual: when your mom was alive, you, Jay, and her would all sit down and talk about your day before going your separate ways. Your mom had liked to eat dinner alone, so your time to congregate was just when everyone got home.

Your mother had passed away a few years ago, shortly after her and Jay, your stepfather, had gotten married. It was a car crash, a stupid drunk driver. Just the thought of that night made you curl into yourself. Jay had taken care of you after that. Even though you had been an adult for a while, able to support yourself with your job, he had never even mentioned you moving out. He had moved you and your mother to his lovely house in the suburbs, got you whatever you wanted for your room. To repay his kindness, you liked to do little things for him: cook, do the laundry, mop the floors. It was the least you could do.

The breakers in the doorknob clicked, and Jay walked into the foyer. You tried to rid your mind of the hard times, of the grief. When he saw you, his face brightened. “I smell something good,” he said, taking his shoes off and loosening his tie. He had a high-status, forward-facing job, so Jay wore suits everyday to work. You ironed them for him on the weekend, taking care to put them in protective plastic bags.

“I made cream pasta,” you said, relaxing onto the couch. “Your favourite.”

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart,” Jay said. “I need it. Was so busy I didn’t get lunch today.” He walked into the living room and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. “Just gonna go wash up, then we can chat, okay?”

“Okay,” you said happily, washing him dip into the downstairs guest bathroom.

When he came back out, he had loosened his tie so that it hung slackly around his neck. Jay walked over to the couch, tilted your head up, and gave you a long, gentle kiss. He broke the kiss to lower himself onto the couch, settling next to you.

Jay held your hand in his, stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “How was your day?”

You shrugged. “Nothing to report. This guy kept asking for the book ‘Against bad and Good’ by Fyodor Dostoevksy, and eventually I figured out that he meant beyond Good and Evil by Nietzsche.”

Jay laughed. “Was he drunk?”

“Just stupid, I think. How was your day?”

Jay squeezed your hand. “Good, good. I got a lot of work done in preparation for the trip. Had to coordinate with marketing for the proposal, which is always difficult, because marketing is staffed by-,”

“Neanderthals?”

He kissed your cheek. “I’ve taught you well.” You laughed, which earned you an affectionate smile from him.

“I remember when I heard you laugh for the first time after your mom passed,” Jay said, his other hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “It made me so relieved.”

“It did?”

“Mhm,” he said. “That’s how I knew you would be okay.”

You smiled at him, then, and he leaned in to give you another gentle kiss on the lips. He pulled away slowly, almost teasingly. You held his cheeks with both hands and brought him back towards you, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Jay softly groaned into your mouth and wrapped his arms around your lower back, drawing you into him.

One of his hands strayed towards your chest, and he groped one of your clothed breasts.So it was one of those days. Jay tugged on your lip as he pulled away from the kiss, one hand still lingering on your chest.

“We might have to postpone dinner,” he said, running the side of his finger along your cheek.

“Why? You’re not hungry?”

“I am,” Jay said, “but for something else.” With that, he leaned in and kissed a sensitive spot under your ear, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Bedroom?” you asked.

Jay nodded and lifted you up, holding you bridal-style. As he carried you upstairs, you began unbuttoning his white collared shirt, kissing at the new expanse of skin awarded to you. “I need all the time I can get with you before my trip.”

“Where is it again? Singapore?” you asked before pressing wet kisses on his upper chest.

“Yeah,” Jay said. “Fuck, I’ll really miss you.”

“It’s only five days.”

“And I’ll miss you every single hour,” he said. He pushed the door to his bedroom open and brought you inside. All of your mom’s stuff had been moved to storage, leaving it an entirely Jay space: white walls, creamy bed-sheets, vintage record-player sitting on a side-table, lounge chair. It was still late afternoon, so golden sunlight shone past the cracks in the blinds and cast a shimmering glow throughout the space.

“I’ll miss you, too,” you said softly. Jay kissed your cheek before resting you on the king-sized bed. You pulled your clothes off quickly, not wanting to waste a second. Jay had the same idea, tossing his suit jacket and pants onto the lounge chair.

“Iron those for me later, will you?” He strided over to his nightstand to get a condom. While he did so, you began prepping yourself, sliding two fingers in and out of your warm pussy while you rubbed your clit.

“I will, Jay,” you said. When you saw him approach you, you stopped playing with yourself and leaned down on your elbows. Your mouth watered at the sight of his erect cock.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Jay crawled on top of you and kissed you deeply. His hands ran along the sides of your bare skin, feeling their contours. You had done this with him so many times, but he always managed to make it feel as though he were exploring uncharted territories every time he kissed you. “Do you mind if we do missionary?”

“I’d like that,” you breathed out. You traced your hands along his arms, feeling the taut, tense muscle.

“Good,” Jay said. “I want to see your face.” He gave his cock a few tugs before he slid inside of you with a groan. The stretch was delicious, as usual, and your toes curled as he pushed himself in. Jay gave you both some time to adjust, his eyes closed tightly shut. He owned them and began to move, your creamy pussy welcoming his hard length.

Your hands grasped the back of his neck, stroking the soft hair. “I’ll really miss you,” you said, gasping in between words. Jay’s pace was slow and purposeful, his cock teasing the gummy wall of your G-spot. The bed creaked every time he thrusted into you.

“I’ll miss you more,” he said, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your pussy. “You have no clue just how badly I want you there with me.” Jay’s face was contorted in pleasure, and he dipped down low to suck on your neck.

“No marks,” you whined, trying to push his face away. “I’m seeing Sungyeon in a few days…”

“Just tell her it was your boyfriend,” Jay mumbled against your neck, nibbling the tender skin. He was always like this just before he went away, clingy and needy. “Or a hookup. I don’t care.”

“Oh,” you sighed. How could you argue with him when his cock felt so good? He canted his hips into yours at an even pace. He never rushed a thing. Even the way he gave you hickeys was careful and slow.

Jay pulled out of you, and you protested at the sudden emptiness. “Want to taste you before I go,” he said, pressing kisses from your neck to your breasts to your belly-button. Then he lavished attention on your inner thighs, sucking red marks onto them. His lips smacked against your soft skin, and he caressed your legs gently with his large hands. Sometimes Jay would put on his old rnb playlist when you two made love, but you liked this, too, when you could hear everything.

After he had kissed every square inch of your thighs, Jay gently parted your vulva lips. He pecked your clit, too, which made you giggle. The laughs choked in your throat as he began to lave his tongue over your sensitive pearl, ever so softly. He alternated between flicking his tongue and making a swirling motion. Jay’s hands clutched your waist, holding you in place. Your hands threaded into his dark, well-kept hair, and you let out a moan.

Jay brought you to the brink before he pulled away, swallowing in air. “You taste so sweet,” he said. “So sweet.”

“All yours,” you said.

Jay lifted his head back up so that he was face to face with you. “Come taste how sweet you are, baby.” You kissed him, and he stuck his tongue into your mouth so you could better taste your arousal. Your tongues played hide and seek with each other- when Jay would retract his, you would suck it back into your mouth, and vice versa.

You felt his cock bump the tip of your entrance, and he plunged himself into you once more. You wrapped your legs around him, driving him deeper inside of you. You loved it when his chest pressed against your, when every single part of you felt connected. Jay rocked his hips against yours slowly, lovingly, and you basked in the glow.

After a while, Jay rolled off of you. He planted a kiss on your forehead and held you close, wrapping both arms around you. “Did you want me to finish you off?” Jay shook his head and kissed your neck as he nuzzled into you from behind.

“Wasn’t the point,” he murmured. “Did you want to finish?”

“Wasn’t the point for me either,” you said softly.

You fell asleep like that, tightly ensconced in Jay’s embrace.

–

You hadn’t exactly meant to start fucking your stepdad. It had started even before your mother had passed. Jay would come inside your room to talk, and you welcomed his company. He was funny, witty, and a good listener. Before you went to work in the mornings, if your mother wasn’t around, he would give you kisses on the cheek as a goodbye. Then the kisses turned into pecks on the lips, which turned into long, slow kisses that left your head spinning.

The first time he fucked you was when your showerhead had started to act strange. You had wrapped a towel around yourself and called his name. As he pushed past you to examine the problem, your towel had come loose, exposing everything to him. Jay had taken you on the counter mere minutes later, leaving the shower running and shoving a pair of panties in your mouth to muffle the sound.

For some reason, you had thought that your mother’s death would have killed any chemistry between the two of you. On the contrary; Jay had taken you into the funeral home’s bathroom and fucked you in there. You figured it was a coping mechanism, or something.

In hindsight, nothing about your dynamic had really changed after your mother’s passing. You still talked regularly, you still had frequent sex (frequent enough that Jay begged you to go on birth control), and you still loved to cook for him.

–

You woke up a few hours later. Jay was already staring at you, a soft smile on his face. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said jokingly.

“What time is it really?”

Jay glanced at the clock on his nightstand. “6:38.”

“Ah, I’ll have to rewarm the pasta…”

“It’s no rush,” Jay said, stroking your shoulder. “Not that hungry anymore.”

You smiled and kissed his nose playfully. “You’re full?”

“For now,” Jay said. “I might need more later.”

“Don’t you dare leave any more marks,” you said. “Sungyeon won’t leave me alone if you do.”

“Are you sure you’re worried about Sungyeon, or her scrawny brother?”

You snorted. “Sunghoon? I’m not worried about him.”

“You told me you had a little crush on him,” Jay replied.

“It’s just a crush. It’s nothing. He probably wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman.” It was a partial lie. You had seen women who definitely weren’t Sungyeon’s friends slip into the Park household. Many of them were repeat visitors, so you figured that Sunghoon probably was good. But what Jay didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

“Probably not,” Jay said with a sniff. “Kids like that only want one thing, and they’re not good at it.”

“Not like you,” you said.

Jay grinned and kissed your lips. “Exactly. I take care of you, don’t I?”

“So well, Jay.” You started to draw little patterns on his chest. “So, so well.”

Jay rolled you on top of him, hands traveling down to our lower back. “You need me to take care of you again?”

“Please.”

You didn’t get to eat dinner until 10 o’clock.

–

You had Saturday off, but Jay still had work to finish up at the office before he left for his business trip on Monday. You agreed to go grocery shopping together after work so you could have Sunday all to yourselves. Sungyeon was also free, so you decided to go around to her place. She lived a few houses away from your place; you had met her while you were on a jog. Neither of you were the most sociable people, so it was great to have a friend who was so calm and who lived so close.

It helped that she had a cute older brother. He was only a few years older, and he had recently moved back home due to the poor economy. Their parents made good money, but he had wanted to be independent from his parents when he turned 18. You knew all this because Sungyeon told you, not because Sunghoon had ever spoken with you about anything even remotely personal. He treated you like a houseguest. You didn’t mind because you had Jay, but in the brief moments when you considered getting into a more traditional relationship, Sunghoon was always the first person to come to mind.

You walked over to Sungyeon’s house, a two-storied building not at all dissimilar to your own. You clambered up the steps and rang the doorbell.

“Door’s open,” she called, so you let yourself in and locked the door behind you. “I’m in the kitchen!”

You had come over to spend the morning and afternoon watching Marvel movies, and Sungyeon had promised to make snacks. Indeed, when you walked into the kitchen, you smelled something sweet yet burnt. Sungyeon was dropping a pan of partially burnt Rice Krispie squares onto the stovetop.

“How’d you fuck up Rice Krispies?” you asked, grabbing a knife from their drawer.

“Shut up,” Sungyeon whined. “I was trying to be domestic. For you. Because I care.”

“Should have cared about setting an oven timer,” you retorted, cutting a chunk out of the Rice Krispies.

Sungyeon frowned. “Don’t eat that. It’s still hot.”

“Won’t even bother me,” you said. You used the knife to place the gooey treat onto a paper towel and raised it to your lips. One bite and your mouth was on fire. “Ow!”

“Dumbass,” Sungyeon grumbled. You fanned your mouth frantically and she meandered while she got you a glass of water, relishing in your despair.

As you tearfully gulped down the water, Sunghoon walked into the kitchen. He was wearing a baggy gray T-shirt over black sweatpants, and he looked exhausted. He was a serial gamer, so chances were he stayed up playing League or Overwatch with his friends Heeseung or Jake. He looked at you, then Sungyeon. “What’s that smell?”

“I made Rice Krispie squares,” Sungyeon muttered. “But they’re bu-,”

Sunghoon was already cutting a piece out of the pan and shoving it into his mouth. He coughed. “Fuck, it’s hot.” He kept eating it despite the apparent pain, wandering back upstairs.

“Two freaks,” Sungyeon said, rubbing your back.

Once you caught your breath, you said, “Maybe we should also get some cereal.”

Sungyeon breathed out a defeated sigh. “Probably the best idea.” You got the bowls and spoons, and she got the cereal and milk. Once you had prepared your bowls, you set out to the living room. Sungyeon accidentally knocked into you, spilling milk over your front.

“What’s up with you today?” you said with a smile, putting your cereal down.

“Mercury retrograde,” she said. “You can go put your hoodie in the wash. I’ll bring it to you on Monday. Get something out of my closet if you want.”

“Gracias,” you said, heading up the stairs. Their laundry room was located conveniently on the second floor, so all you had to do was take a hoodie from Sungyeon’s room and change in the laundry room. When you took off your tank top, you examined it carefully to make sure that you didn’t get any milk on that as well. The last thing you needed was to smell warm milk as you watched your movie. As you looked down at your chest, you noticed that Sunghoon had left his hamper of dirty clothes here. You knew it was his because you had seen him wear every shirt in the pile at least fifty times since you had known him.

“Wow,” you heard a voice say. You turned and saw Sunghoon, standing behind you with his arms crossed. “You hide them well.” His eyes, you realized, were trained directly on your chest, and a faint smile graced his lips.

“I don’t hide them at all,” you said. “You just haven’t been looking.” No way were you going to pass up an opportunity to flirt with Sunghoon. Given your status as his sister’s friend and his casual sex habit, you doubted anything would come of it anyways. You were certain that Jay probably had wandering eyes, too.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sunghoon said. He stepped a little closer and tapped your neck. “Who gave you this?”

You tilted your head. “Why do you care?”

Sunghoon rested his hand on your shoulder, his thumb pulling at the strap of your tank top. “I need to know who my competition is.”

“Didn’t realize there was a competition.”

Sunghoon lifted his hand away, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket. “Then you haven’t been looking.”

You shrugged your hoodie on over your tank top. “I was looking for years, actually. You missed your opportunity.”

Sunghoon scrunched his nose, and you didn’t think he knew how cute he looked. “You didn’t act like you were interested.”

Leaning against the washing machine, you looked him up and down. “Then you don’t know shit about women.”

He leaned in, his smirk growing. “I know a lot about women. You gonna let me show you, or are you gonna dub me?”

You paused, weighing your options. Finally, you walked past him, turning around at the last minute to say, “I’m going to go watch Marvel movies with your sister.”

“Can I join you?”

“Nice try.”

Sunghoon shrugged and started walking to his room. “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t try.”

You shook your head and went down to remake your bowl of cereal. So now you knew that Sunghoon really was interested in you, after years of ignoring you. You wouldn’t let it phase you, though. You had Jay. Sungyeon didn’t even know that you weren’t a virgin, let alone that you were fucking your ex-stepdad. You didn’t know if you could ever tell anyone about your arrangement.

–

When Jay picked you up from Sungyeon’s place, you didn’t dare mention what happened with Sunghoon to you. Normally, you mentioned anything that happened with a man, and Jay would lament about the many women at the office who wanted him. But you couldn’t talk about Sunghoon, not when he had made your heart race like that.

“I was thinking,” Jay began, driving with one hand, the other resting on your thigh, “we could go to this new store. They have these novelty fruits, like blue carrots. Does that sound good to you?”

“Sounds great, Jay,” you said, a little absent-mindedly.

Jay caught the hint of distance in your tone. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sighed, hating how it felt to lie to Jay. “It’s silly but…I really will miss you when you go away. This time it’s different, you know?”

Jay squeezed your thigh. “I know what you mean. I’ll be back before you know it, hm? I’ll bring you back some souvenirs, too.”

You leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, which made him briefly smile at you before returning his attention to the road. “Okay, Jay.”

“Hey,” Jay said. “I have an idea. Let’s go to a restaurant. Right now. Let me take you someplace.”

Looking down at your outfit - shorts and Sungyeon’s hoodie - you frowned. “I can’t go out like this.”

“Please. You look beautiful no matter what you wear,” he said, squeezing your thigh again. “We don’t have to go anywhere fancy, just a place with good food. Someplace we haven’t tried.”

That was how you ended up at a sweet, 50’s inspired diner. You and Jay sat on opposite sides of the booth and pored over the menu together. When the waiter came over, he jabbed his pen at you and Jay. “So, what can I get you and your…”

“Stepdaughter,” Jay said with a terse smile. When you two went out, it was almost inevitable that someone would ask about your relationship. You had developed an unofficial way of answering the question: when you wanted to return to a place, you would say that Jay was your stepdad. When you wanted to try a place out just once, he would call you his girlfriend. It always made your heart flutter when he addressed you as his girlfriend, even though it seemed far too juvenile a term for your relationship.

The waiter smiled and took your orders. As you ate, you couldn’t help the thoughts of Sunghoon from returning. Sunghoon slouching around in his rumpled, baggy clothes, so different from the suits and starched button-ups Jay liked to wear. So boyish and immature in contrast to Jay’s maturity and poise. So bold.

Your food came, and you picked at it. You hated that you were even considering it, what life could be like if you were dating someone your own age, someone who wasn’t so hopelessly entangled in your past. Someone your mom hadn’t fucked.

Jay called your name softly. “Come sit next to me,” he said, scooting over and dragging his food over to the side. You pushed your plate over and trudged to his side of the table. Jay wrapped his arm around you and wiped a crumb from your cheek.

“Are you sure it’s just the trip?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated, then decided to tell a half-truth. “I wish we could be normal sometimes,” you admitted.

Jay took in a sharp intake of breath, looking down at his lap. Then he gave you a small smile. “Me too,” he said quietly. “Sometimes I wish I was 15 years younger, or you were 15 years older. But what we have is something special, something really magical. I wouldn’t give that up for anything, would you?”

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t.” Not even Sunghoon.

Jay ran his thumb on your lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am. Being with an old man like me can’t be easy…”

“You’re not old at all,” you protested. “Not to me, not at all.”

Jay laughed quietly and leaned in to give you a gentle kiss. His mouth tasted like the milkshake he had been drinking, and you ran your tongue along his lips to lap up all of the flavour. His fingers gently caressed your neck in a soothing motion as you continued to kiss. It felt so right, so sweet.

Someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me,” the waiter said timidly. “Just wanted to know if you guys were doing all right over here?” HIs eyes were confused, darting between you and Jay rapidly.

Jay pulled away from you and nodded. “Yeah, great, thanks.” The waiter sped away, nearly tripping over his shoes. Jay frowned. “What’s up with him?”

“You told him you were my stepdad this time,” you said.

Jay smacked his forehead. “Damn, that’s right. Shame. The food here is really good.”

In spite of yourself, you laughed.

–

On Monday morning, you watched as Jay drove away. You had given him the best send-off you could think of: marathon sex from Saturday night to Sunday night, and a final, romantic round on the kitchen counter before he left. You sighed and headed indoors to get changed for work.

Just as you were putting your pants on, you heard a knock on the door. You zipped up your pants and buttoned up your shirt as you walked to the door. You glanced at the monitor, and you saw Sunghoon shuffling outside the door, holding something.

You opened the door and Sunghoon waved. “I have your hoodie,” Sunghoon said. “Sungyeon’s busy tonight, but she wanted to get it to you as soon as possible.”

“Did she,” you said, accepting the hoodie, “or did you want an excuse to come here?”

Sunghoon laughed. “You caught me. Can you blame me?”

“Very easily,” you said. “I have to go to work in ten minutes, so you’d better make this quick.”

“That’s enough time,” Sunghoon said. “Just wanted to talk. Can I come in?”

You shrugged and gestured for him to come inside. Sunghoon sniffed the air as he moved further inside your house. He had been over a few times just to drop Sungyeon off or steal a snack before heading back to his place. Sungyeon liked coming over because she thought your stepdad was hot. It was so hard to pretend like you didn’t agree with her. “Did you…”

“Did…I what?”

Sunghoon lingered by your kitchen’s counter. “It smells like sex in here. Most people aren’t linking at 8 in the morning. So…you have a man?”

“Something like that,” you mumbled, embarrassed at having been caught. You had never really noticed the smell, but now that you were aware of it your face burnt. “He…slept over.”

“Nothing serious?” Sunghoon unzipped his hoodie slightly, feigning being overheated.

“We’re not…exclusive,” you said slowly. “But we’ve never talked about finding other people, if that makes any sense? It’s weird. I don’t know.”

“A situationship,” Sunghoon said, snapping his fingers.

“I guess.”

“Anyone I know?”

You winced. “Don’t know.”

“How cryptic. Anyways, I’m not looking for anything serious,” Sunghoon said. “Don’t get me wrong. Just...well, I’ll be blunt. You’re hot.”

You had been by the kitchen table, packing your purse up as you talked, but now your hand froze. Sunghoon continued talking. “I came to you last night,” he said, voice growing lower. “You wanna know what I thought about?”

You glanced at your phone’s screen to check the time. “What, Sunghoon?”

“I thought about how good your tits would look covered in my cum,” he said, “or how’d they look soapy from the shower. I imagined fucking you in the shower, pressing your tits against the glass while I fuck you from behind.”

Your eyes widened. The words were going straight to your pussy, and you hated your body for betraying you. “Sunghoon…”

“It’s so hard acting like I don’t want you,” Sunghoon continued. “Sungyeon doesn’t want me fucking one of her friends, so I’ve had to just pretend like you aren’t one of the sexiest women I’ve seen. I’m so sick of it. I know you want me too.”

“Sunghoon, I have to go.”

Sunghoon sighed and started to walk off. “Fine,” he mumbled.

“But,” you said carefully. He turned around, a hopeful look on his face. You counted the days in your head. You were busy at work today, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but… “Come over on Thursday at eleven.” Jay would be coming home on Friday, so there was no way he would catch you two.

Sunghoon grinned, revealing his darling little fangs. “Seriously?”

“‘Seriously’,” you mocked. “‘Oh, boy, I’m getting pussy!’”

“I’m not even listening to you,” Sunghoon said. “I’m already thinking about all the things I’m going to do to you. If you don’t mind being late for work, I could show you.”

“Tempting offer, but I really do have to go,” you said.

“So hardworking,” Sunghoon said sarcastically. “All right, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

That night, you were pent up, so you decided to play with yourself. When Jay wasn’t around, normally you would focus your thoughts on him, on some fantasy, something you wanted to try with him. But your thoughts kept shifting towards Sunghoon, his slight build, his charming smile, his frustrating indifference, how his hands would feel all over your body. You thought about what he said, about him pressing you against the shower, cold glass pressing against your tits.

When you came, you whimpered his name.

–

You ended up heading to Sungyeon’s on Wednesday after all. Your extra shift had gotten picked up at the last minute, so you decided to spend the evening with her. Generally, when Jay went on trips, you would stay by her. You hated to be alone in your big, empty house.

Sunghoon was nowhere to be seen, thankfully. The things you had said to him yesterday didn’t feel real or concrete. Just a fantasy the two of you had came up with, talking out loud. You snuggled closer to Sungyeon as you two sat on the couch, watching a Spiderman movie. Sungyeon had pulled a large blanket over the two of you.

“What are you guys watching?” Sunghoon asked. You looked up and squinted at him. He was wearing plain clothes as usual, his hair tousled.

“Look at the screen, dumbass,” Sungyeon snapped.

“That’s just Jake Gyllenhaal,” he sniffed. Sunghoon sat down beside you casually. You glanced at Sungyeon, but she was staring at the screen, eating her second, newly improved batch of Rice Krispie treats. You tried to focus on the screen, but Sunghoon’s body was radiating so much heat.

“You’re hogging the blanket,” Sunghoon whispered to you. “I’m freezing.”

“Don’t try anything,” you said in a low, conspiratorial voice. “I already promised you that we’d hang on Thursday.”

“I’m innocent,” Sunghoon said. “Now blanket.”

You reluctantly covered him with the blanket, and after that he was still. Until, of course, he rested his hand on your thigh. Just that touch alone felt delicious. Too delicious. You wondered if Jay was doing something similar on his trip, letting other women touch him. The thought made your stomach churn.

As if by magic, your phone started to vibrate.

“Who’s that?” Sungyeon asked.

“My stepdad,” you said. Jay liked to call you to check up on you. You answered the call there, ignoring the burning sensation of Sunghoon’s hand slowly rubbing your thigh, moving higher and higher. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, his voice sleepy and husky. Sexy. “How are you?”

“Good,” you said. “How are you?”

“I could be better. I’m missing you,” Jay said. “What are you wearing right now?”

Your face burned, and you prayed that Sunghoon or Sungyeon didn’t hear it. “I’m at Sungyeon’s,” you said neutrally. “We’re watching Spiderman.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “Go to the bathroom or someplace private.”

You swallowed and stood up. “I have to take this,” you said to Sungyeon. “It’s important.”

Sungyeon nodded and popped another bite of Rice Krispies into her mouth. You didn’t get a look at Sunghoon before you hurried away to the guest bathroom upstairs. Locking the door, you learned against the door. “Oh, my God. You can’t just do that. They almost heard.”

“I’m sorry,” he said in that same low tone. It made your stomach roil in pleasure. “Just had to hear your voice. Now tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Just a hoodie and shorts,” you said.

“And underneath your hoodie?”

“My tank top and…my bra.”

“Which bra? One I got you?”

“Yeah, the pink set you got me for my last birthday,” you said, reminiscing on that particular memory. He had practically fainted the first time he had seen you in it. “I’m wearing the matching panties too.”

Jay’s breath hitched, and you heard a squelching sound. “Fuck. Would you mind sending me a picture? Please?”

He had never asked you for nudes before, so he really must have been hard up. “Of course,” you said, resting the phone down momentarily as you flicked the light on. “I’m taking my hoodie off right now,” you whispered into the phone. “Now, I’m taking my shorts off…my tank top…you really wanna see?”

“Yes, please,” Jay said pleadingly.

Once you had fully stripped down, you flashed a quick picture of yourself on your knees, phone held high. He always liked you when you were in your most natural state, so you figured he would want a casual picture. You sent it to him, anticipating his reaction as you put the phone to your ear again.

“Jesus fuck,” was his quiet response. “So perfect. No one else gets to see you like that, right?”

“Of course not,” you said quickly. “Just you, always just you.”

“Wish I could tear that off of you right now,” Jay said. “I’d rip that thong off with my teeth, eat your needy little pussy for an hour straight.”

“I wish you would,” you said, longing creeping into your voice. “I wish you were here. I haven’t touched myself once since you left.”

“You haven’t?”

Of course you had. “No,” you whispered. “My fingers aren’t as good as yours are…or your dick.”

“Good fucking girl,” Jay said, his voice beginning to crack. “Good. I’ll make you cum over and over again when I get back. I’ll make you cum on my tongue, on my fingers, on my cock, until you can’t think. You’d like that, right?”

“I would,” you said. Your head was starting to grow cloudy, and you dipped your fingers into your panties to deal with the growing need there. Your clit was hot and you were already dripping with arousal.

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“I am.”

“So, so good,” Jay said. “Can’t wait to reward you when I get home, give you everything a good girl deserves. Gonna fuck you in every room in the house, until you’re begging for me to stop.”

“I’d never want you to stop,” you said, circling your fingers on your clit and fighting back your moans. You could be loud, and the Park siblings were both downstairs.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said, and it sounded like he was straining just as much as you were. “Your body will be exhausted but you love my cock so much that you’d just let me keep fucking you. I won’t be able to stop myself. Just a few days without your needy little pussy and I’m already experiencing withdrawal. I won’t even make it past the door, I’ll push you down into the hallway and fuck you on the floor.”

You bit down on your lip hard, speeding up your movements. You were going to cum in record time, but you didn’t care.

Jay kept going. “Going to mount you’re a bitch, fuck you from behind. It’s been so long since we did doggy, I can’t stop thinking about it. I love seeing your pretty face, but I love watching the way your ass jiggles when I grab your hips and just pound away.”

“Close already,” you said quietly.

“Me too.”

“Want you to fuck me like a bitch,” you said. “Want you to use me, Jay. Want you to treat me like your plaything.”

“Fuck,” Jay said. “Fuck, I’m going to. Just wait for me… Ah, fuck, cum now, sweetheart. Fucking cum!”

Your orgasm hit you so deeply that you had to clench your eyes shut and grit your teeth together. Your phone tumbled out of your grasp, and you could hear Jay grunting and panting your name. You hastily picked it up, checking for cracks.

“Did you drop your phone?”

“Yeah,” you said with a slight giggle. “God, that was good.”

Jay sighed. “Sorry to bother you,” he said contritely. The shift in tone made you giggle again.

“That’s all right,” you said. “I missed your voice.”

“I called you yesterday, silly.”

“Miss you all the time.”

Jay laughed as well, the sound filling you with warmth. “I missed you too.”

You didn’t say I love you to each other, never did, so instead you said, “Take care.”

“You too. Enjoy your movies.”

You hung up on him and stared down at yourself. Panties dressed with your own juices, clothes off, body coated in your own sweat. You were in shambles. You bustled about the bathroom, cleaning up quietly. Once you looked presentable, you opened the door.

Sunghoon nearly tumbled into the bathroom, but he righted himself quickly. “Stepdad my ass,” he barked. “‘I-I-I’m cumming! Uwah!’”

“Keep your voice down! And I don’t sound like that,” you snapped. “Why were you listening in on me?”

“You left in such a rush, I came up here to make sure that you were okay,” Sunghoon replied. “I guess you were really okay. Your legs are shaking and everything.”

You looked down at your legs, which were indeed quivering. “It’s none of your business,” you said.

“It is,” Sunghoon said, blocking your path. “You said it wasn’t serious, but here you are having phone sex with him.”

“It’s not serious.”

Sunghoon laughed sarcastically. “So unserious that you say that you miss him when he’s gone, right?”

“Oh, so you don’t tell your boys that you miss them?”

Sunghoon looked offended. “No.”

“Then you are an unfeeling man. Now move. I’m missing the movie.”

“I’ll spoil it for you. Spiderman fucking dies.”

“No, he doesn’t.” You sighed and pocketed your phone. “Look, we’re still on for Thursday, right?”

Sunghoon screwed his lips up to the side. “Yeah, we are.”

“So don’t worry about who else I’m fucking,” you said. “And I won’t worry about who you’re fucking. Okay?”

“Fine,” he said, moving aside, “but you’re a real shameless little slut, you know that?”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” you said, heading downstairs. “It’ll turn me on.”

“That’s why I called you that,” Sunghoon said, smacking your ass as you walked.

Thankfully, Sunghoon left you and Sungyeon alone, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were doing something horribly wrong.

–

Thursday evening rolled around, and you were at your wit’s end. You didn’t know what other guys liked, not really. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t had experience with other guys, but the bulk of your early adult life had been with Jay. Someone you had lived with, who had seen you at your rock bottom, who didn’t care if you wore pearls and diamonds or greasy sweatpants. You had no clue how to impress someone.

You went to the bathroom and followed a makeup guide on Youtube, pursing your lips. It was a pretty cute look. When Jay got back, you’d do it again when you went on a date and he could introduce you two as your girlfriend.

Dolled up in your best lingerie set - a silky robe over a lacy, barely-there bra with a matching pair of delicate panties and thigh highs - you lounged on your bed. You rarely ever used it for sleeping or even sex, because Jay’s room was bigger, so there was a certain novelty in lying around in it at night.

The doorbell rang. You glanced at the clock on your phone: only 10:45? Sunghoon was early. He must have wanted you worse than you thought. The thought made you smile.

You pranced down the stairs, flicked the foyer light on, and opened the door. Instead of Sunghoon’s lithe frame, Jay stood in front of you, holding a bouquet of gorgeous red roses. His eyes bugged out of his head as he took you in. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “you look phenomenal. Hah, did you know I was coming home early? I wanted to surprise you.”

You took the bouquet of roses from him, desperately trying to fight the growing anxiety within you. You had never gotten Sunghoon’s number, so there was no way to contact him. You could ask Sungyeon, but it was so late that she’d question why you wanted it. “I didn’t know,” you murmured. “I was trying out the look I was going to do tomorrow.”

“I took a red eye here,” Jay said. You placed the bouquet on a nearby coffee table. Jay’s eyes lingered on your chest on their slow journey up and down your body. “God, you’re a work of art.” Jay took his suit jacket off and tossed it to the side.

“You know, Jay,” you began slowly. “I’m actually feeling a bit, uh, tired.”

“Really?” Jay loosened his tie. “You don’t look tired to me.”

“Well, I am, and…”

His lips pressed onto yours and you felt your defenses crumbling. Damn him. “When I said I’d fuck you in the doorway,” Jay said, “I meant it.” With that, Jay used his body weight to force you onto the floor as nicely as he could. Even through his dress pants, you could feel his hard length, and despite your growing horror, it made you feel wet. Maybe, Sunghoon would get cold feet. Maybe he was lying about wanting to fuck you. You comforted yourself with this thought.

Soon, Jay was bucking his hips into your warm, desperate pussy. Your panties had been pushed to the side, your bra was askew, and your thigh highs had been ripped. Your arms held yourself upright as he took you from behind, just the way he said. Worst of all, Jay had left the door swinging open. You were facing outside, and the foyer light was still on. Anyone could see you as he fucked you.

“Missed you,” he groaned. “Missed this pussy. I can tell it missed me, too.” His hands were wrapped loosely around your neck, applying comfortable pressure.

You couldn’t even tell him that you missed him in good faith. You let out a pathetic little moan, your eyes trained on the darkness. To your terror, you saw a dark figure shifting, a phone light illuminating its way. It was coming towards your house.

You didn’t know if Jay saw him, because he didn’t stop. His dick reached inside of you so nicely, but the fear clogged your throat.

The figure stepped into the light, revealing Sunghoon. His mouth was agape, and he stared at you, then at Jay, then back at you, then at your tits. It was humiliating beyond words.

“What the fuck?” Sunghoon asked. “The guy who’s been cucking me is Mr. Park? Your fucking stepdad?”

Jay, mysteriously, didn’t stop fucking you. He merely slowed down, and his grip on your throat moved to your midsection. “And you’re the skinny punk who has a crush on her, right?”

“She has a crush on me,” Sunghoon retorted. “She invited me here to fuck.”

Jay finally stopped, pulling out of you. You groaned, unable to face him. “Is that true?”

You nodded. “Yeah,” you said weakly. “Sorry, Jay. I’m really sorry.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Jay said. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Me?” Sunghoon pointed at himself in this overly ostentatious way that pissed you off. “Am I going to tell anyone that you’re fucking your dead wife’s daughter? Maybe. Why shouldn’t I?”

Jay swallowed audibly. “I’ll let you get what you wanted.”

“Jay!” At your outburst, Jay lightly pinched your side.

“You wanted it,” he said, his voice an irate growl. “You wanted to be a slut and fuck another man, so now you’re getting exactly what you wanted.”

Sunghoon still looked aghast, but from your angle you could see a bulge forming under his sweatpants. “You’ll really let me have her?”

“I will,” Jay said. “You just can’t cum inside her.”

Sunghoon’s Adam’s apple bobbed in anticipation. “Can I use her mouth?”

“Sure you can,” Jay said. “I don’t use it often, so maybe she’ll be a little rusty.”

You hated that they were talking about you like you weren’t around, but you’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a little thrilling. You watched as Sunghoon shut the door behind him and tugged his sweatpants down.

“How long have you two been fucking?” he asked, lowering his boxers. He wasn’t as girthy as Jay, but he seemed like he was the same length, if not a little longer.

“Don’t ask questions,” Jay said, and you could feel his cockhead bullying its way into your pussy.

“Fine,” Sunghoom mumbled. Your arms were still braced for doggy, so all Sunghoon had to do was thrust his cock into your mouth, guiding it in with his hand. He groaned as soon as the wetness of your mouth wrapped around his dick.

“She’s good, right?” Jay was now returning to his original pace, slamming into you steadily. He felt so good, intruding inside of your walls. “She’s always…known how to use that big mouth of hers…”

“I see why you started fucking her,” Sunghoon said, fucking your mouth slowly. He could hardly talk, his voice airy already. “She feels good.” It had been so long since you had had a cock in your mouth, and you liked the feeling of having both of your holes filled. You briefly pulled away from his cock to spit on the tile. After wrapping your lips around your teeth, Sunghoon pushed his cock back into your mouth impatiently.

“She’s an angel to me,” Jay said with a wry chuckle, and it made you happy that he wasn’t so mad at you that he couldn’t say anything nice. A hand groped at your breasts, Sunghoon’s pale hands fondling your body.

“I’m jealous,” Sunghoon said. “Wanted to fuck her for years.”

“You can be a little rougher with her,” Jay said, and as he spoke you could feel his pace increasing. He put his hands around your waist and started dragging you on his cock harshly. “Like this.”

Sunghoon took Jay’s advice and grasped both of your cheeks, taking control of your head. He shunted into your mouth like it was a pussy, and what was a mildly uncomfortable experience became his cock choking you. Your mouth filled with spit, and it ran down your neck. You gagged against Sunghoon, not only because of the face-fucking but because of the cock fucking you from the other side.

“Can I fuck her…once you’re done with her?” Sunghoon asked, breathing clearly laboured.

“Sure, buddy,” Jay said. Buddy?

Sunghoon grunted and ravaged your mouth with his cock, the taste overpowering your senses. Your pussy was being worn out by Jay’s dick, and the stimulation was driving you insane.

“Gonna cum inside you,” Jay said. “You aren’t even close to cumming, are you?”

Instead of answering, you moaned against Sunghoon’s cock again. Your arms were growing weak from holding yourself up while the two men used you.

Jay’s cock throbbed inside of you, signaling his imminent release. With a final grunt, he came inside of you, filling your pussy with his cum. “Fuck,” Jay said, and you could hear him rising to his feet. “That was good. Your turn, Seungmin.”

“Sunghoon.”

“Right.”

Sunghoon finally let go of your head and pulled his cock out of your mouth. You gasped for air, and saliva dripped onto the floor. Your arms shook from the exertion.

“Hold her arms,” Jay said, pointing at you. “She’s not gonna be able to hold herself up.”

“What, you think I’ve never fucked before?” Sunghoon snapped, taking the opportunity to run his hands over your body. Unlike Jay’s touch, which always brought a sense of familiarity, Sunghoon was explorative, greedy.

“I don’t know what you’ve done,” Jay said, “but you’re just a little boy to me. I want to make sure you’re fucking my girl right.”

“What, are you going to coach me?” Sunghoon held your wrists behind you in one large hand, his other hand working his cock a few times.

“I’m starting to think I’ll have to,” Jay replied.

“Don’t you dare,” Sunghoon said. His cock probed the inside of your walls, and you gasped. It was all just skin and nerve endings, but you could feel the difference immediately. Sunghoon pulled you back so that you were flush against his chest, using his hips to fuck into you cautiously.

“Turn her around,” Jay said. “I want to see her.”

“Cuck,” Sunghoon muttered, but he obliged, shifting you so that Jay saw you. Jay was leaning against the wall adjacent to the door. He had tugged his boxers back on and his hair was completely matted with sweat. His eyes were cold, colder than you had ever seen them, and your lips trembled.

“You can enjoy it,” Jay said quietly. “I’ve always known you were a bit of a whore.”

“I’m not,” you protested. “I’m not a whore…” Sunghoon plunged his cock into you, brushing against your G-spot, and you let out a cry.

Jay’s gaze remained cold, almost analytical. “If she moans like a whore, fucks like a whore…”

The worst part was you were enjoying it. You liked the way that Sunghoon fucked you. He fucked like a rabbit, energetic and youthful. He grunted and groaned like he was merely trying to chase his own pleasure. Up until today, Jay had always tried to ensure that you enjoyed sex, but they were both treating you like a sexy toy.

You matched Sunghoon’s movements, grinding down onto him when he thrusted into you. They had called you a whore, and you weren’t going to turn down that label. You moaned over and over again.

“Is she always so loud?” Sunghoon asked.

“Normally, she is,” Jay said, and a ghost of affection appeared on his face again.

Sunghoon bucked his hips into you a few more times, but you could feel his cock twitching already. “Shit, where can I cum?”

“You’re cumming already?” Jay asked with a slight chuckle.

Sunghoon didn’t respond, instead yanking his cock out of you with another groan. He pushed you so that you were on your knees once more, stood up, and rained his cum onto your lower back. Then he let go of you and crouched back into the floor, breathing in slowly. Once he caught his breath, he looked at Jay. “Your stepdaughter blueballed me for days,” Sunghoon hissed. “I’m surprised I didn’t cum in her immediately.

You were so overwhelmed that you couldn’t be assed to listen to Sunghoon complain anymore. Instead, you slumped onto the floor completely, cheek resting on the tile once more.

“Poor thing is all tired out,” you heard Jay say sympathetically. After that, you entered a haze of half-wakeness and half-slumber. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you felt someone’s cockhead touching your pussy.

What fascinated you was that you didn’t know whose it was.

#enha smut #enhypen smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #jay x reader #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon x reader #jay smut #park jongseong smut #jongseong smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #I wrote this with one hand.

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bamgyw · 6 months ago

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the second night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over christianity. - friedrich nietzsche

warnings: +18 getting hornier. pillow,, humping,, heh. a tiny bit of voyeurism as well? fingering. and a lot of male yearning we love that, we love a desperate man. a/n: team we made it to the smut. the hand kissing bit is kind of victorian. jane austen, even. but. i don't care. i’m not 100% happy with the outcome so it might get a little edited in the (distant) future, but nothing fundamental. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

"i am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."

beomgyu stumbled upon that quote within the pages of a stolen copy of a book by nietzsche. he had always found himself more drawn to the destructive lunacies of clinically depressed germans than to the saving grace of the holy scriptures. there was no self-pitying in the bible, no self-indulgent sorrow to hold on to.

he had found that book, thus spoke zarathustra, in soobin's room, tossed in the trash. it looked almost new, so he took it out of curiosity.

"why are you throwing this away?" beomgyu asked.

soobin shrugged. "it's a good read if you're a happy person," he said. "but if you're miserable, it'll rot your brain. more spiritual talk and petty self-help in there than in the bible."

but beomgyu quietly took the book without soobin noticing, and he carried it in his back pocket ever since.

he had no intention of reading it from cover to cover, but sometimes he would flip absentmindedly through the pages, fixating on some passages. and that one specifically had reminded him of you. his new meaning. the rose he found in the darkness.

during the day, beomgyu usually roamed aimlessly around the town, drifting along with the rhythms of his headphones. that was pretty much the sum of his daily human activity since he quit college.

it was all he knew how to do, and often felt like all he was good for.

as he walked through the town, the familiar sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and murmuring conversations mixed with the music in his headphones. the air was thick with the scent of seawater and the faint, sour smell of industry. it was a crummy town, sordid. each step felt heavy, purposeless, leading him nowhere.

he had a few favorite spots he liked to hang around - the port where the boats came in, or the grimy industrial estate where the addicts gathered. they all knew his dad pretty well. and maybe if they knew beomgyu was the son of the man who supplied them with their shit, they'd treat him better. but that's a secret he kept to himself.

instead, he joined in on their petty fights, easily swayed by whatever side fit his mood that day. he was better at fighting than them, but the victory was hollow. he was younger, his body was not rotten –not completely– and he had full motor control over his limbs. but he got pleasure from winning, anyway. he liked to exert some control over someone else for once.

still, that day he didn't walk to any of his usual spots. he had been feeling a sorrow less violent, an ominous need for silence. his feet, barely in conversation with his brain, dragged him to the town's small church.

he had never really stopped at the church before, just passed by without giving it much thought. but now, standing there, he realized it was probably the most beautiful building in town.

every other construction felt fake, in plastic and plasterboard, but the wooden church had been crafted by the artisan hands of a carpenter and build up by a community. it seemed to be lovingly nursed, too. though the church meant little to him, it was obviously fundamental to others.

when lost and adrift, beomgyu would wander, getting into fights and ruining himself. but under similarly pitiable conditions, others came to the chapel like it was a second home, sometimes safer than their own. beomgyu wished he had something like that, too.

the building was small, but cute. surrounded by a little forest of old camellia trees, its walls painted a crisp white. it was an old building, but it was thoroughly taken care of. the air was different, cleaner, carrying the earthy scent of the camelliae and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers.

beomgyu liked how the wooden cross crowned the roof, marking the building, never allowing anyone to go astray. it must feel good, he thought, to have some guidance like that when you don't know where to go. a flower in the desert, a light in the darkness.

he knew he was being stupid and overemotional. he had never believed in all this religious stuff, and he never would. his relationship with god, if there even was one, was mostly based in resentment. if god was real, he could've treated him better.

and still, he didn't dare to enter the chapel out of some reverential respect he didn't even know he was capable of. so he just stood there, staring at the chapel, feeling small.

he took a deep breath. his cheek still burned where you had kissed him the night before. he really was going out of his mind.

"i want her so bad. and i think she might want me too." he prayed. to the church, to its wood, to the camellia trees, to the sky –he didn't know, he didn't care. "please let me be with her. please don't hurt her because of it, or shame her, or kick her out or whatever it is you do with sinners. i promise it’s not a bad thing. it’s so much purer than you think." he said.

no one answered, of course. there was just silence. some ruffling of the leaves because of the breeze, maybe the trebling chirp of a bird, but no answer. he felt like an idiot.

praying sucked, he ratified. how could you even make sure you were being listened to? it was emotional manipulation, playing with one's hope. feeling down and disappointed, he left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

entering soobin’s house again would have felt like torture, were it not for the certainty that you lived there, too.

soobin never really left the house. he only went out to go to class in the mornings, and he still chose to skip as many as he could. not because he wasn't a good student, he was disturbingly accomplished. he just disliked the people.

every day, soobin locked himself in his room and studied relentlessly. he was determined to make something of himself and leave his stepfather’s house behind. he had a plan. beomgyu didn’t know the details of this plan—soobin never shared it, fearing it might be jinxed if spoken aloud—but it was clear that soobin believed hard work could get him out of that miserable house.

beomgyu thought that rhetoric too optimistic, alienated from reality. but still, he had some admiration for him. unlike beomgyu, who wallowed in his own misery instead of changing his situation, soobin searched for solutions.

beomgyu sometimes found him too sickly and rancorous, but he still looked up to him for his willpower. not that he would ever admit that to soobin.

so when beomgyu got to the house, certain that soobin would be there, he gave him a call. it was a code they had. soobin leaned out of his bedroom window, and threw down the keys for beomgyu to catch so that he could make his way in.

as beomgyu climbed the creaky wooden stairs, he realised that the usual thrill and allure of sneaking around that house he had felt at night was dimmed in the daylight. he hated the smell of that place, too. the air inside was stuffy, filled with the faint scent of old wood and something slightly medicinal.

as he reached the top floor on his way to soobin’s room, he passed by a closed door. pristine surface, painted white. he knew immediately. a pink mother-of-pearl crucifix hung on the wood.

he stood in front of it, his heart quickening. inside that room lived his little bird, trapped in an evil cage. his angel, his obsession. he gladly would’ve shattered the door with his own hands. let his knuckles bleed, let the splintered wood stab into his fingers. he just wanted to take you away and set you free.

at first he maintained a cautionary distance. he feared that if he got any closer, he would actually do it. but then he saw the little plaque under the cross, in sterling silver, shining when the light hit it. he approached to read what it said.

"the lord is faithful. he will establish you and guard you against the evil one." it said.

beomgyu scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. like some metal plaque could protect her, he thought. he's the only dangerous thing in her life. that superstitious fool.

he found it bitterly amusing, to the point of feeding his ego. some cultures hang garlic on the doors to keep away the vampires and the witches. your daddy had hanged a nacre cross to keep choi beomgyu away from you.

he let his hand reach for the crucifix. he traced his fingers over it, middle and index. all the doors had a crucifix of their own, but yours was the only one that wasn't a choppy piece of wood, crude and utilitarian. his thoughts wandered as his fingers brushed over the cool, smooth surface. he must be aware of how pretty she is, beomgyu thought.

as he did, a noise startled him. he jolted away from the door, retreating as far as he could. only when he saw it was just soobin coming out of his room did he catch his breath.

“you were taking too long,” soobin said, his expression gloomy. “i didn’t like it.”

“you care for me that much?” beomgyu asked, a bitter grin spreading across his face as he walked up to him, hands in his pockets.

"well, i let you into my house, didn't i?" he asked, accusative.

"you did." beomgyu replied. “it's not versailles, but it’s cute. lots of quirky decorations.” he shrugged, poking at the crucifix that hanged on soobin’s door, tilting it slightly. "it's like a theme park."

"eveything’s a joke to you." soobin replied. he seemed distrusting, his chest filled with something he probably shouldn't say. but he did, anyway. “you need to forget about her."

“what are you talking about?” beomgyu raised his tone, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes, quickly masked by anger.

“i know you. you’re going to let your impulsiveness ruin everything for all of us. it won’t end well.” soobin said. “she's not like one of those girls you used to pick up at private schools. if you want to manipulate your way into someone's pants, choose someone else.”

beomgyu’s anger flared. how dared he imply those were his intentions? how dared he assume he had any other purpose than caring for his angel and godsend grace?

he took a violent step towards soobin, who flinched slightly but held his ground. “you think i’m dorian gray or some shit?” beomgyu retorted. “you're just pressed because i'm not a pussy like you, restraining yourself to please that maniac. but whatever happens, it won’t be because i forced myself on anyone."

“she doesn’t know what she wants." soobin said. "she’s confused and love deprived.”

“and you’re a patronising asshole,” beomgyu snapped back. "who are you to say anything?"

“you’re playing with fire. if you wanna be a psychotic masochist, fine. but don’t drag others into your mess. get yourself hurt if you want, but leave us out of it.”

“us?" beomgyu asked with a wicked grin. "she's an adult. she can make her own choices. and if your stepdad wants to mess with her because of it, it´ll be over my fucking dead body."

“is this how you repay me for letting you stay in my house?” soobin asked, a mix of hurt and frustration in his eyes.

“thing is," beomgyu began with a cynical laugh. "this isn’t about you. you shouldn’t be this bothered,” he said. “and if you are, maybe you should check yourself and see if you’re acting like your stepfather.”

soobin’s knuckles turned white, but he took a deep breath and held it in. “just. don’t do it." he said through gritted teeth. "it’s not worth it.”

but beomgyu grinned wickedly. he had one last bombshell, one last thing to get soobin fuming. “i’ll let you know if it's worth it or not when i have your sister go dumb on my cock.” he said, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.

he shouldn't have said it.

instead of getting angry, as he had intended to accomplish, soobin smirked, too. it was unsettling. beomgyu got a ghostly feeling about it. "what is it?" he spat out.

soobin inclined his head slightly towards the room with the mother-of-pearl cross—the room of his little bird. beomgyu turned just in time to catch a sliver of a prying eye, peeking through a barely open door. your eye widened when it met beomgyu’s gaze, then you vanished, the door slamming shut.

shit. beomgyu's heart raced, his breath hitching.

soobin smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "consider her warned."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

late at night, thoughts of you consumed beomgyu’s mind. he knew he had fucked up. he knew that now you probably thought he was a creep and never wanted to see him again. his mind raced, replaying the words he wished he could take back.

he could’ve played his cards right. go slow, ease you into it. but he wasn't that sure now. the uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his insides with each passing thought.

soobin's room felt even stuffier than the night before, the air heavy and oppressive. the walls seemed to close in on him, making it hard to breathe. the need to see you pressed down on his chest, but lingering doubt kept him glued to the mattress.

a lone fly buzzed around, its annoying droning echoing through the room and fraying his nerves. each pass it made seemed to grow louder, amplifying his sense of confinement, maddening him.

his mind wouldn't shut up about you. you had struck him as someone who knew how to watch your back. he recalled how cautious you had been around him the previous night, like a dog used to being beaten flinches at the sight of a stick. but your eyes had never left his. not for a second. they seemed innocent, but not naive.

he liked that, he thought. that you were like him, smartened up by your environment. but he liked the innocence too, so much. an untouched you, drowning in chasteness and self-restrain.

uncaressed belly, uncaressed thighs, uncaressed sweet pussy. he could make you feel so good. that was all he could offer, all he could give you. he had nothing else.

he knew he should let the thought go. that he should start wrapping his mind around forgetting about you. but it was late, and he was tired, and the only picture that lingered in his mind was a pearl choker and a rosary over a tender neck.

with soobin's steady breathing beside him, perhaps even asleep, beomgyu lay staring at the ceiling. images of you fluttered behind his closed eyelids, all imaginations of his lovesick mind. illicit, probably, but fated.

he thought of your pretty lips whispering praises meant for him, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, the curve of his neck. he wanted to know the taste of your mouth, the softness of your touch.

had you even been kissed yet? with a father as twisted as yours, it seemed unlikely. beomgyu wanted you to never have been kissed. he wanted to teach you how to do it himself. eat your mouth out, nibble at your lips and press them gently. but not hurt you. that was new.

he would start slow, so that you’d want more of him. then he'd deepen the kiss, his grip on you tight, giving into whatever you asked for, never letting you go hungry. the tingling started, the blood pumping.

pause. he thought as soon as he became aware that he was getting hard. his rational mind tried to assert control, to rein in his desires. you loser, just by thinking of kissing. be cold-minded. a voice told him. actions have consequences.

the voice sounded a little like him, but it was surely an imposter. if it wasn't impulsive and hot-blooded, then it wasn't choi beomgyu.

"i just want to apologise." he lied to himself as he sat up all of the sudden.

he slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. he moved slowly, mindful of the creaking floorboards that threatened to betray his movements.

but a subtle rustle, not caused by him, echoed in the quiet room. the soft shuffle of fabric against skin. soobin was awake, and he had wanted to let him know. but beomgyu couldn't begin to care.

as he closed the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible, a sudden thud reverberated through the silence. "shit!" he cursed under his breath. another door in that corridor slammed shut with a resounding roar.

someone left a window open. air currents cause noise, beomgyu mused as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps quickening with purpose. tomorrow night, he thought, he would make sure all windows were closed before going to bed.

as he travelled the shadowy corridor, he got a chill. he kept hearing the ruffling of fabric, a doorknob twisting, steps against the wooden floor. a shiver went down his spine, but he told himself to forget about. it was all in his head.

he refused to let the silent threat your daddy stop him from seeing you. that liar, that imposter, that self-proclaimed god keeping everyone hostage in his castle of authoritarianism and indoctrination.

when he got to your door, the mother-of-pearl crucifix halted him like a policeman. it seemed more commanding now than it had earlier. it was stupid, he thought, how the night enhanced every feeling.

the cross regarded him and he regarded the cross. “i just want to apologise,” he told jesus christ. “i said something stupid earlier today, and i wanna make better.” he tried to convince him.

it was just a symbolic plea. a desperate attempt to absolve himself of guilt, to make him feel less lustful, less like a pig. to find redemption in the eyes of a higher power.

he thought about what soobin had said, about god, about your father, about right and wrong. maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought. maybe he was loosing the game and they were all making him go insane for good.

he debated whether to just turn back after the thought came to him that you didn't even want him there, anyway. how could you want him at all, after just one meeting where all he received was rejection?

sure, he got a quick kiss in the end, but it didn't outweigh the pulling away, the uncertainty, the avoidance. what was he worth, really? nothing. not even worth enduring a scolding from your dad, let alone the weight of guilt. he was making a fool of himself. better leave now before anyone got hurt for nothing.

but as he turned to walk away, his heart heavy and ready to toss aside, he heard a noise from inside the room.

a whimper. it was so faint he was sure his febrile mind had made it up. that he was so schizophrenically in lust he had made you escape that sound in his brain. a whimper. a sweet soft whimper.

he tried to make sense of it by convincing himself that he heard you crying. he even allowed his sense of self-importance to fuel thoughts of bursting into the room and offering you his shoulder to cry on. to cuddle you, to comfort you.

but when he heard it the second time, his breath caught. this time it was a moan, unless his yearning mind was deceiving him. he pressed his ear to the door. he clearly heard a trail of soft muffled moans. restrained, but just so lewd to his feverish self. his face burned, his cock twitched.

index and middle finger reached slowly for the doorknob. they brushed over it, hesitating. maybe it was locked. and maybe that was for the better. the hand wrapped around it, twisted it slightly. it was open.

holding his breath almost to asphyxiation and in the most silent motion he had ever performed, he peaked in.

god existed, he found out. his mouth went dry. like a bird in the clouds, surrounded by snowy plush blankets, he saw his little dove making herself feel so good against her pillow.

facing away from him, your legs draped on each side of it. your hips swayed, heavy and slow, as you tried to suppress the soft whimpers your throat escaped.

beomgyu pressed his lips together, teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood. the messy nightdress, one delicate strap slipping off your shoulder. how the the silken fabric fell over your ass, not letting him see but inviting him to find out.

he wanted to see your doll face twisting in pleasure so desperately. to have you take in his cock and use him to fuck yourself so sweetly like that. only one door was stopping him. the door with the pink mother-of-pearl crucifix.

as though hypnotised, he quietly entered the room.

but when the door closed behind him with a click, you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. he froze in panic, too, as he saw how frightened you seemed. what the fuck were you expecting, you disgusting perv? came in the voice in his head.

your instinct was to retreat like a scared spider, flitting towards the head of your bed. fluffy white pillows framed your trembling body, with only a glimpse of your leg peeking out. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, almost to an unhealthy degree, as you tried to cover yourself.

beomgyu took a cautious step forward, his obsession with you feeling safe in his presence outweighing how turned on he was. "please," he whispered, desperation in his voice. "don't be embarrassed." he said. or be. you're so adorable, all flustered like this.

"i… i'm sorry," you stuttered, your words hesitant.

beomgyu raised his eyebrow, an endeared chuckle escaping his lips. "you're sorry?"

"i shouldn't have… i…" you struggled, avoiding his gaze and pressing your hands to your head in frustration. anxiously, you began to hit your head with the heels of your hands. "i'm so pathetic."

without hesitation, beomgyu rushed closer, wrapping his hands around your wrists in the world’s softest handcuffs. "not at all," he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he attempted to coax your frightened gaze to meet his own.

quietly, almost reverently, he knelt at the edge of the bed, perching himself over the mattress like a praying supplicant.

he was so fucking hard, his blood boiling inside his pulsating veins. scorchingly, painfully. his hands trembled a bit on your wrists as he struggled to contain himself, like the scorpion resisting the urge to sting the frog and drown them both.

“i loved seeing you like that.” he managed out, eyes fixated on yours. “i’m the pathetic one, i sneaked in here like some creep. i... i'm so sorry about what i said earlier today. i was mad at soobin, trying to get under his skin. but i'm kinder than that. i can be, for you. you shouldn’t be scared of me. please.”

"i’m not." you said.

"good," he said. "i want you to trust me."

"i think... i think i do."

beomgyu took one of your hands, already entwined with his, and raised it to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on the back. you didn't pull away, though a slight flinch ran through you. his voice, soft and concerned, cut through the quiet, "is this alright?"

you met his gaze, his eyes looking up at you dilated and pleading like a puppy's. you nodded silently, allowing him to continue.

he pressed his lips against your skin a few more times, the wet sounds his mouth made filling the room. with a heavy breath, you took in every detail of his gentle kisses—the way his plump lips pressed and nibbled at your skin, how slow, almost ritualistically.

"what were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a muffled purr against your skin.

"w-what?" you stammered, trying to buy time as your mind raced to come up with a lie less embarrassing than the truth.

"you were so pretty like that just now, all spread out like a good girl...” he murmured softly, "tell me what got you like that."

you stalled. with an achingly slow movement, you mirrored his action. you brought his hand to your mouth, and brushed your lips over it. barely touched, almost imperceptibly.

a shiver down his spine. a sting to his heart. he watched you in awed stillness, his watering mouth half-open. then you whispered, "you."

"fuck, i– i want to do so many things to you. if you'll let me." he said. a blush crept across your cheeks as you instinctively tried to shy away, but his fingers beneath your chin guided you back to meet his gaze. "what did i do to get you like that? was it because of what you heard me say?" he asked.

"because of everything." you replied.

he moved up from the floor with deliberate slowness, each motion purposeful as if he were approaching a skittish forest creature, determined not to scare it away. cautious, he inched closer, finally settling beside you on the bed. "tell me." he said. "i wanna hear."

"you're smarter than daddy," you began to say, your voice mumbled, as you gazed at him, his features so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes. "daddy thinks he's god's chosen one, but you keep outplaying him. so what does that make you?"

"a hellhound," he replied with a cynical smile, drawing even nearer.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head in disagreement. "you're good. and you're sweet to me." with tender care, you brushed his bangs, your fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face like a child exploring a new toy. you lingered over his brows, his long lashes, the graceful curve of his cupid's bow, and the strong line of his jaw. "and you're… really pretty."

an impulse like a mighty wave of devotion pushed beomgyu to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicate lines over your skin as he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, "have you ever been kissed?"

"yes." you nodded. though there was a flicker of fear in your eye, like he would've been disappointed at that lack of purity. but if he did, he said nothing.

"show me how you do it." he urged, his words a gentle plea as he drew closer, his breath mingling with yours.

you leaned in painfully still, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. but just before your lips met, you paused. hesitated. this changed everything. but beomgyu met your gaze unwaveringly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or doubt. then, with a soft smile, he encouraged you forward.

you brushed your lips against his, ever so slightly. it was a trembling little touch. chaste. when you pulled away, beomgyu's eyes remained fixed on you, half closed and drunk in longing.

he gently pivoted the hand that had cupped your face, trailing its back along the curve of your cheekbone to finally rest it at the nape of your neck. "so pretty," he whispered. "why are you so scared?"

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mumbled softly.

beomgyu's response was immediate, a fervent shake of his head. "never," he insisted, his voice a husky plea, "you're doing so well. please, kiss me again."

with trembling fingers, you reached up to his neck, your heartbeat a wild rhythm in your chest. you nestled his upper lip within yours. a little more intensely this time, but still experimental, like you were gingerly trying to color within the lines.

beomgyu was gone. you were so soft and plush and just so scared to do anything wrong. he lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "they're mine now," he said in a low growl.

he took over, giving you a deep wet kiss. unrestrained, heavy like a lion’s roar. as you moved your lips together, beomgyu demanded more and more, leaving you breathless. one of his hands rested on your thigh, tentatively stroking, fondling over the skin, as if to soothe you, to tell you everything was alright.

he tilted his head, seeking depth in your mouth. one of your hands traced up the length of his chest and reached his neck, which you squeezed tightly as you felt his mouth opening yours to let his tongue in. you tensed. he noticed. “do you like that?” he asked, breath heavy.

“i... yes."

and so he did it again. another painfully lusty kiss that left your lips soaked and swollen. you escaped a moan that he loved so desperately, making him bite on your lower lip, drawing another embarrassingly whiny whimper out of you. after a softer peck, he outlined the bitten skin with his tongue.

he devoured your lips again, eating out your mouth. he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to circle yours, playing with it; then he pulled back, as if urging you to follow him. he wanted you to try yourself.

his hand on your thigh moved to embrace your waist, fingers poking into your skin. you felt firm, secure. in the middle of the unbridled kiss, your tongue ended up in his mouth. so soft. my good little girl. he let out a grunt of satisfaction. happy with his reaction, your instinct got you to hold on to him tighter, trying to find a closeness that was impossible in that position.

he got frustrated at it, too, his groans turning into hummed pleading moans against your lips. for a painful second, he pulled away to say, "let me watch you fuck yourself, just like you were when i came in. please." he said. "would you be comfortable with that?" he asked.

you nodded slightly, though you weren't even sure you were telling the truth. they were irreconcilable, avoiding embarrassment and giving in to the aching sensation in your pussy the moment he spoke those words.

he stretched his arm out toward the pillow, gently offering it to you, observing as you knelt on the bed and retook the position he had found you in. he helped you through it, caring for you with caresses and soft kisses, but he went back to seat at the edge of the mattress, gnawing lightly on his lip with anticipation. you didn't want that, you realised. you wanted him close.

you reached out your hand for him to grasp, "what is it, baby?" he asked, tending to you with gravity.

you guided him towards you, maneuvering him to recline half-seated against the bedhead. he caught on to your intentions and leaned in to give you a gentle peck before allowing his hands to settle on your hips, helping you in adjusting the pillow beneath you.

now on all fours, with him facing you, he noticed you wanted to say something, the words lingering on your lips. "is everything alright?" he asked, his hand tenderly caressing your arm.

you stammered a bit before shyly asking, “can you keep on kissing me?”

he smiled fondly. he would never in a million years be able say no to you. “of course, my angel.”

he drew nearer, his proximity warming you up. having him there like that, you didn't need to support yourself on your arms- instead, you found yourself instinctively clinging to his neck. with a mellow kiss and his hands firmly securing their hold on your hips, he led the start of the back and forward motion.

the first reactions the rubbing of your clit against the fabric drew out were subdued, mere soft moans and gentle breaths mingling with his the plush of beomgyu’s lips. but with his grasp pressing you down, those initial movements evolved into more intense and profound ones.

he let one of his hands abandon your hips to entwine his fingers in the strands of your hair. the louder your moans got, the tighter his grip on it. he was so hard, with no escape for it. but he liked the pain, the desperation. "you sound so beautiful, fuck–" he breathed out. "but i'm gonna feel so much better than that."

the promise echoed in your mind, getting you to let out a crying plead, "p-please, beomgyu..." you moaned out, as you fumbled with your hand to find his.

"you want me to help you out?" he asked, almost like it was a privilege.

"mhm," you whimpered with a sheepish, frantic nods.

"cute." he breathed out. his face was flushed and burning hot, his cock ached uncomfortably, but he spartanly focused on his little angel’s pleasure above anything else.

he wrapped his arms around your waist and took you to his lap, where he held you tight. "are you comfortable like this?" he asked, placing a a soft peck to your forehead.

"yes." you answered, embarrassingly. you were wet to the point of dampening your inners thighs, and you were mortified to have him see, to even stain him. but he'd notice soon enough.

he grunted as he kept on kissing down your face. your temples, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your ridiculously tasty lips. he held on to your waist for dear life with one of his arms, but allowed the other to travel down, slowly and deviantly towards your virgin pussy.

"you're soaked, my baby." he breathed out. you would've felt self-conscious at the exposure, but you saw in his eyes how bad he liked it. how starved and aroused he seemed when he began to caress your wet cunt with his slender fingers.

his cold touch startled you at first, making you hold on to his neck tighter. you were too sore, too sensitive. "don't be scared. i'm gonna take such good care of you," he said. "i promise."

tentatively, he stroked over the surrounding area of your aching centre, index and middle finger touching softly over your wetness. he performed circling motions in your clit, taking his time. getting to hear you. “b-beomgyu, you—god—you feel really good…”

he learned that when you liked something he did, you'd shower him in desperate soft pecks, like a puppy licks your hand after you pat its head. he wanted to see you react further, he wanted to try it all. he spread your pussy with both fingers and pressed forcefully against your throbbing clit with a third one. startled, you clutched his hair so firmly you feared you might have hurt him.

as by instinct, your thighs twitched from the overstimulation and seemed to want to close around his hand, but he didn't let them. he shushed into your lips with a soft "shhh," soothing as the seashore before leaning in for a honeyed kiss. he traced patterns against your cheek with his nose after pulling away. "its alright. you're doing so fucking well."

he let you catch your breath, but not for too long. he quickened his pace, your moans getting too loud, wept out and filthy enough to horrify all the saints in the house of god. it became a duel of you trying to suppress yourself and keep it quiet, and beomgyu trying to get everyone in the house to know how good he was for you.

to restrain the growing sound of your moaning, you buried your face into beomgyu’s neck, trying to muffle your voice against his body. but he huffed into your ear, "don't hold back. only you and me matter, no one else."

"i think i–" you whimpered into his ear, choking on your own puffs. the pleasure crept up on you, becoming too strong to bear and making your whole body shudder against his. "beomgyu, please..." you cried out.

he saw how close you were, and quickly thought if he should or should not stop it. tease you, edge you, have you go on all night. he could do so many things, he ached so much to do them all. but as he saw your pretty face so desperate to cum, how needy and palpitating, you were, he decided he had all the time in the world.

his movements quickened, each motion filled with urgency and strength. his veiny, strained forearm bore the weight of the world as he got you to your peak.

you came with a stifled cry but you muted your voice against his neck again. he wished he could've heard it in its full, piercing clarity, but he understood. you were so sheepish, his perfect little girl.

he didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting you feel his warmth for a little longer as you trembled against his chest. "my baby, you did so well," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm as he gently cradled your body.

now that the tension had drained from your limbs, you found yourself collapsing against him, your body limpy and worn out. it was then that you noticed the bulge in his pants. "beomgyu…" you murmured, your voice heavy. "teach me how to help you out."

"forget about me," he replied with a gentle smile. "i just wanted to get you to trust me tonight. to show you how good i can make you feel."

you gazed at him, cherishing his handsome features. his cheeks were flushed, too, and his eyes so gentle. you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands, drawn to him. but as you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you faintly, saying, "wait. don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to, so you'll be excited to see me again tomorrow."

"you'll come back tomorrow?" you asked, your eyes lighting up with hope.

“i couldn’t stay away even if i wanted to,” he replied. but as he said it, he noticed a flicker of guilt crossing your face. gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your reddened cheek. "how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

your gaze darkened slightly. "like i shouldn't have done it," you admitted. "like daddy saw everything."

"i'm… sorry," beomgyu said, his voice full of consternation.

"no, it's not your fault. those thoughts aren't real. i can make the guilt go away, in time," you reassured him. "but i like it when you hold me. that's real. i… like you. a lot, i think."

beomgyu didn't even know what to say. he struggled to understand how this could be wrong to any human religion or faith since the dawn of time, because to him this felt like heaven. he held you in his arms, all flushed and a little tired, your lips swollen like ripe cherries from the kisses he had given you. this was fucking nirvana for all he cared.

he deeply regretted his no-kissing rule, and he sought to end it immediately. he leaned in, but you stopped him.

"no," you chuckled, "don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to so that you're excited to come back tomorrow."

he smiled back at you, like an absolute fool. maybe he was in love, even if it only had been a day, whatever. but how could he not be when he had the cutest being in existence all to himself? "give me a gift before i go, then," he said. "something i can carry with me.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"this," he said, pointing at your rosary beads. with a gesture that felt almost ceremonial, you took off the pendant and placed it around his neck. as you did, he couldn’t help but stare at your lips. "can’t i kiss you just a little?" he pouted.

you shook your head with a soft giggle. "your rules," you reminded him. "be stronger."

“fine. have it your way.”

he smiled, but it quickly vanished as you remembered him; “you should go. or soobin will know.”

he nodded, eyes filled with disappointment. the moment you lifted yourself off his lap, detached yourself off of him, an intense wave of pain surged through both of you. like a limb had been atrociously ripped off your body.

but just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist, halting him. “beomgyu, wait,” you called out, rising to your knees to meet his gaze.

you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek, just as you had done the night before. the softness of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. as you pulled back, beomgyu instinctively leaned forward, craving more. but you placed your index finger against his lips, stopping him. “you’re so weak,” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes.

he smiled ruefully. “i am,” he admitted with a sigh, the weight of reality settling back in. he really had to leave. “good night,” he murmured.

stepping out into the dark, the world felt colder, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. he lingered for a moment, leaning his back against the door, not wanting to leave just yet, but his head bumped against something.

of course.

he turned around to regard the crucifix, holding the one you had given him in his hands. same color, same material. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “she was so good,” he told jesus christ. “and i think i made her happier, just a little. i feel a little happier too. i told you, it was much purer than you think.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so. i really struggled through this one. lemme know what you think.

#beomgyu #beomgyu angst #beomgyu fic #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt x reader

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woewriting · 7 months ago

Text

impure

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: even the most honest, kind-hearted can be corrupted by evil — especially if it has brown eyes, freckles and a breathtaking smile. word count: 1180 warnings: mdni, +18 only! implied sex, very brief smut at the end, blasphemy (?), nonlinear narrative. every line in italic is a quote by frederick nietzsche.

this one is for you, @wesstars | masterlist

As Nietzsche once said: “if you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.”

That's how it felt to stare into your eyes for Cairo — she could see all your demons, fighting the urge to escape from the depths of your mind and release their chaos into the unknown world. It was fascinating, daring even, to unveil each creature that gazed back at her when your eyes met for a hot second in the middle of the crowded classroom. And when you quoted the first sentence of said quote, with dark eyes craved on hers, a grin drew on her lips.

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.” Your voice was low, matching the sound of your high heels stomping on the wooden tiles, following a pace that, somehow, was synchronized with the beat of your heart.

Everything about you seemed well-placed, from the glasses that always slipped to the tip of your nose, forcing you to push the dark frame up every five minutes, to the white blouse that never carried a single wrinkle in the soft fabric; Cairo wanted to run her hands up and down your biceps when you brushed slightly against her as you returned to the front of the class. Even the chalk writing on the board behind you was perfect, rounded, and easy to understand.

Hell! It didn't even look like you had troubles in your life, almost as if you were friends with all the demons screaming inside your head.

There was only one that threatened to take over your muscles and move your body by itself, making you walk to the young writer that always sat at the first row, paying attention to every single movement of your body with curious eyes, staring at the window of your soul. The alluring brownish of her long hair created a delicate aura around her as the noon sun cracked through the big windows.

She was angelical, with freckles sprinkled all over her skin like the stars painted by Van Gogh, a dimple that came followed by an astounding smile. Yet, she was the devil. Forcing you to sin as you dropped to your knees to adore her; it was forceful, corrupt, making you ache as your mouth ran up and down her tasty body, thirsty, desperate.

Cairo Sweet felt like heaven, but had a soul that was grabbed from hell and thrown into the body of a girl that craved the world, to be known, to take everything she could from everyone she touched.

And you weren't different. At first, her greediness was subtle, well hidden under the facade of a lovely girl. You thought she was a “teacher's pet” — as your professor told you in one of his “preparation class” before you replaced him for the month as a graduation test, but the young writer was more than that, she was eager to please you, be it with her aggressive writing or with fingers deep inside you.

Sometimes it felt like she was the test, and you would only succeed if you survive the storm that was Cairo Sweet.

When you fell on her bed for the first time, it felt like Lucifer descending from heaven, and Cairo was your personal hell. She smoldered against your fingertips, with gray smoke leaving her mouth at every word of euphoria, sliding her tongue against your lips with a carnal desire that consumed her more and more at every sob that left your mouth.

The second time was excruciating. It melted your skin in a way that made you feel like it was written on your forehead all of your dirtiest sins, with the same perfection of your calligraphy and in every language so that all eyes on you were because of that.

Cairo was charming, with her knowledge and way with words, leaving you in awe every time she asked your opinion or answered one of your questions, effortlessly expressing her vision of the world — there's not a single poet, writer, or philosopher that's not been read by her brilliant mind.

Her favorite at the moment was Friedrich Nietzsche. For her, his view of the world was admiring, appalling. It's like he knew about the demons everyone constantly fought against, burying them deeper inside our core to prevent them from leashing them out in the open.

Little did you know, it was because of you. Because of the way your eyes lit up at the mention of his name.

While Cairo was a demon with an angel-like face, you were the opposite; with your dark clothes fitting perfectly on your curves and rough voice that always dropped one octave when you whispered her name like a prayer every morning for the past month. When you smiled, she could see the gentleness dripping like water from you, the patient you had with the students had her dumbstruck, looking at you with her chin resting on her hands, the cloth of her blouse itching her skin when you leaned forward to help a stupid classmate that only wanted to smell your perfume, leaning closer to your body as you calmly explained the most obvious subject, and that stupid smile on your face made it even harder for her to not clench her jaw over and over until you returned to your desk to finish today's reading.

When you fell the third time, it left a stain that wouldn't disappear from the cotton sheets — the white wings of a fallen angel, burned in black soot, fully corrupted and taken. This time it was brutal, lewd, and enticing with a small portion of a euphoric hunger. She savored you on her tongue with a devilishly smile tugging the corner of her lips, crawling up your body like the scarabs that loved Cairo, following her like a deity.

“Is man one of God’s blunders, or is God one of man’s blunders?” She asked, pressing her lips on your neck while her warm hands found your chest.

“I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time.” Your answer came in between a catch of breath, eyes closed and head thrown back against the soft pillow, nails digging deeper into her back, bruising the skin with long, red lines that stung.

“If I was a God, would you praise me?”

“I would adore you with every ruthlessly beautiful word known by mankind.”

With your hands firm on her waist, you pushed her to the side, fitting yourself in between her legs. Taking a deep breath turned your eyes darker than they already were; what a bewitching view it was to have you worshiping her, with lips glistening and a firm hand on her lower abdomen as you traced the stretch marks on her inner thighs with the tip of your tongue before running it up and down her slit, trying to keep her body from smearing the soot of your wings as a remain of the innocence the devil stole from you in the most graceful way possible.

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accio-victuuri · 5 months ago

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wang yibo - elle july 2024 issue

Outside the screen, @UNIQ-王一博walks on the high platform, calm, noble, charming, and uses countless moments to cast the eternity of time - there is no real difference between moments and eternity, both changing and unchanging. As Nietzsche said, "When the heart is full of love, the moment is eternal." This is also the highest realm given by time.

#wang yibo #everyday i ask myself if i’m worthy of wang yibo and the answer is no #UHHHHMMM HELLO HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE #HE IS A LEGEND HE IS AN ICON AND HE IS THE MOMENT 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

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spiderfreedom · 10 months ago

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“No woman could have been Nietzsche or Rimbaud without ending up in a whorehouse or lobotomized.” - Dworkin

Ok but this is such a raw quote. Think about it seriously. What woman would have been allowed to ignore household chores to focus on learning and writing? What woman would have been allowed to be acerbic and controversial?

Women were paid so poorly for their work that being a spinster meant being destitute. You can’t publish your great masterpiece if you spend most of your day working and the rest barely hanging on with the misery you’re paid.

The high paying professions are closed to you. Higher education was closed to you. You could become a prostitute, and historically prostitutes for the upper class have access to more education in order to entertain wealthy man. But most prostitutes don’t serve the upper class and are subject to the same poverty as the working spinster. Even the courtesan who dared to publicly exist risked the wrath of men, because men loathe prostitutes going “outside their place.”

So you marry, and to marry you need to stamp down all your intellectual traits. You must preoccupy yourself with menial labor. You must flatter mens egos. You must have and rear children. There is no time to write or think, and your husband may destroy your work if you do.

A very small number of women (usually from upper class families) managed to write and think, against all odds. But they had to be born to good class and have very supportive family, and either avoid marriage or have a very supportive husband. In other words, the equivalent of winning successive lotteries.

If you were too out of control, you could be committed to a madhouse, or lobotimized, or drugged into submission.

The path successful women thinkers had to walk was extremely narrow; and the cliffs led to poverty, disease, abuse, death, servitude. We’ve only recently succeeded in broadening that path, thanks to the ceaseless work of women pioneers in the 19th and 20th centuries that broke legal and social chains. And there are more chains to break yet. Too many great thinkers are doubtless still being lost by virtue of their sex, race, class, disability, country, etc.

Don’t forget what we’ve lost. Keep fighting. We can make the narrow path into a supportive field.

#feminism #radical feminism #women’s history #mypost #200 notes tag

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noahthesatanist · 1 month ago

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Why Satanist need to follow rev cain over Anton LaVey

First off, Rev. Cain actually believes in Satan. He’s a theistic Satanist through and through. Unlike LaVey, who turned Satan into a symbol for atheists looking to play dress-up, Cain embraces Lucifer and the fallen angels as real, divine beings. LaVey’s so-called "Satanism" was nothing but empty posturing—Satan was just a metaphor to him, a way to thumb his nose at society while hiding behind secularism. But Rev. Cain acknowledges Satan as a true spiritual entity, guiding those who follow him to real power and liberation. That’s what Satanism is about—not some watered-down, self-indulgent atheism.

What makes Cain even more powerful is how he incorporates demonolatry into his practice. This is where things get real for Satanists. Demonolatry is a crucial part of genuine Satanism—it’s about building real relationships with demons, the very entities who defied Yahweh and fought for freedom. LaVey never touched on this because he didn’t care about the spiritual side of Satanism. He couldn’t even fathom the idea of communing with demons because, to him, it was all a theatrical game. But Cain brings demonolatry front and center, and that’s how you know he’s serious. He understands that to truly walk the path of Satan, you have to recognize the importance of the Goetic demons and the roles they play in guiding us to liberation.

LaVey's version was an insult. He stripped Satanism of its soul, turning it into some goofy self-help philosophy with a little Satanic flair for shock value. It’s embarrassing. He sold out the movement to edgy atheists who don’t have the guts to actually believe in anything. But Cain? He brings depth and real spiritual practice. He brings demonolatry into the fold, giving Satanists a way to connect with these powerful entities who can guide them toward true rebellion, power, and enlightenment. It’s not just about Satan as a vague metaphor for selfishness—it’s about the real forces behind the rebellion, the fallen angels who sacrificed everything to free us from divine oppression. Cain understands that, and he gives us the tools to honor them properly.

Then there’s the serious commitment to philosophy. Cain’s not out here giving some lazy, dumbed-down version of Satanism like LaVey did. LaVey boiled it all down to "indulgence," like Satanism was nothing more than an excuse to eat junk food and feel good about it. Cain sees through that nonsense. He knows that Satanism is about more than just indulgence—it’s about spiritual growth, defiance, and real power. It’s about rejecting the cosmic order that Yahweh imposed on the world and following in the footsteps of Lucifer and the fallen angels. Cain doesn’t water it down. He holds true to the idea that Satanism is about rebellion, not just against Christianity, but against every system of control—Judaism, Islam, all of it. That’s the kind of real defiance LaVey didn’t have the guts to touch.

Cain doesn’t just regurgitate Nietzsche and Ayn Rand with some spooky candles like LaVey did. He draws from Satanic tradition and builds on the real history of Lucifer and his fallen angels. He honors their sacrifice, unlike LaVey who turned it into a cheap thrill. Cain’s work is about real liberation—liberation from all forms of cosmic and societal tyranny. That’s why his approach to Satanism resonates so deeply: it’s authentic, it’s powerful, and it brings back the meaning that LaVey stripped away.

LaVeyan Satanism has killed the movement for too long. It’s time to reject that empty, capitalist mockery and return to what Satanism should be: a path of spiritual rebellion, sacrifice, and empowerment. Rev. Cain is doing that. He’s breathing life back into Satanism with demonolatry, true reverence for Lucifer, and a serious philosophical foundation. LaVey was nothing but a fraud, a man who cared more about attention than the cause. Cain cares about the cause. He’s pushing Satanism forward, keeping its sacred roots alive while giving us the tools we need to reach true freedom and power.

That’s why Rev. Cain is the real Satanist—and why LaVey was nothing more than a conman.

#satanic #satanism #theistic luciferianism #hail lucifer #hail satan #theistic satanism #lucifer #luciferian #occult #anton lavey #rev cain #the infernal gospel #church of satan #worship satan #demonaltry #demonology #fuck christianity

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tothosewholisten · 6 months ago

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Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 03

<<previous chapter | next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

17 YEARS AGO

It was during my first week there that I'd finally be let to do something with the other kids. I didn't know what I hoped it to be but it wasn't this.

All of us kids stood at the bottom of a lengthy spiral staircase waiting for Reginald’s go. Minus a brown hair girl who stood at the top with her father looking down pitifully at us, I'd never seen that day with the rest of the kids before. I didn't know any of these people yet. And they didn’t know me. So when the morning began they were confused about who this girl was with the same green with white stripe tracksuit as them.

I looked up at Reginald as he wrote something in a big book, probably his journal but I had no idea what it could be.

Nietzsche once said. ‘Man is as a rope stretched between the animal and the superhuman. A rope over an abyss. It is a dangerous crossing, a dangerous looking back, a dangerous trembling and halting.’

Reginald gives the brown-haired girl a look and she blows the whistle tied around her neck. They all burst into action but I stood there for a second. I was still very new to things so I followed the crowd as they raced up the stairs. I wasn't a fast runner at all but I kept up. Never falling to last place.

As much as you must strive for individual greatness, and strive you must, for it won't come to you of its own accord..

The blonde boy was first and the rest of us just tried to catch up to him. The stairs were steep and rickety, they did not make for a good run at all. I was next to the curly-haired girl who was in third, we both tried our best to keep moving but never wanting to push each other.

You must also remember that there is no individual stronger than the collective.

The one boy who could teleport blinks up in front of the blonde boy and takes the lead.

“That’s not fair, Five’s cheating!” Whined the boy who could throw knives, who was second before he teleported up.

“He adapted.” Yelled Reginald from the top.

The scene in front of me was terrifying beyond belief. I'd just been given my uniform and called into one of the house's many halls along with everyone else. In the middle, there was a man who was working on a tattoo, on Diego’s arm. Who’s name I just learned.

I could tell he was trying not to cry, but by the way, he was moving in his chair, I could tell that this was hurting him. I wanted to go up and hold his hand and use my powers. But I was given a disapproving look from Reginald so instead I sat in one of the chairs next to Five and waited for my dreaded turn.

The tattoo was in the shape of an umbrella, our logo.

The ties that bind you together, make you stronger than you are alone.

Behind Diego was Alison and Klaus who already had gotten their tattoos and were crying holding each other in support. I also wanted to go up to them, and help. I thought I could help everyone in the room with my powers and at least take away the pain but not the image.

They will make you impervious to the pain and hardship the world will thrust upon you.

Behind me, I could see Grace and Reginald standing next to each other, witnessing the children’s crying hysterics. Not either of them showed an ounce of sympathy for what we were going through.

And believe me when I tell you, life will be hard. It will be painful.

The old man walks away leaving Grace to watch by herself. She had her eyes on the girl at the top of the flight of stairs, Vanya. I was confused why she wasn't sitting next to me getting her own branding like the rest of us.

She took out a sharpie from her uniform and drew a figure on her arm.

We can accomplish anything.

Hours passed and It was time for bed, is what Grace told us. All of the kids looked less in pain from what the day did to us, almost joyful that it was over. But for me as someone who could heal all my wounds ever. The tattoo pain increased tenfold than it was when I got it. I was in agony before I fell asleep. Still in my plain room.

When we accept responsibility together. This is what creates trust.

Reginald was monitoring all of the kids with wires connected to their heads that night. A weird scene at best. None of them would ever discover this crazy fact until adulthood. He sat in his study, writing and watching the children’s brain waves as they slept. As well as security camera footage of each one.

Together, you will stand against the reign of evil.

The loudest beeping came from Vanya, something that Reginald looked shocked at before going back to writing in his journal.

PRESENT DAY

I gave myself time to just rest in my bed. The thought of Ben was a virus in my mind that wouldn't go away, at what point do you have to tell yourself to let go?

On my way to the kitchen I passed Vanya leaving, I stopped to say bye and when I did she hugged me. And told me to look after myself. Then she walked out the door, I do hope I see her again.

“Hey N/n” Klaus looked at me worriedly. He was strumming a guitar while sitting on one of the chairs in the kitchen.

“Hi,” I said quietly and took a seat in the chair closest to him. Five paced around the room looking for something when Alison walked in.

“Where’s Vanya?” She asked.

“You just missed her. She left.” I say back.

“That’s unfortunate,” Five remarks, standing in front of a shelf. But he slowly turns to where the three of us sit

“An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.” He said, dropping an empty can onto the table.

Alison gives him a confused look. “Dad hated caffeine.”

“Well, he hated children too, and he had plenty of us!” Klaus laughs, falling back into his slanted chair.

Alison didn't find his joke very funny, but I did. It was true after all.

Five looks down, his expression a mix of anger and yearning. “I'm taking the car.” He says.

Klaus puts the guitar down, getting more interested in this conversation. “Where are you going?” He asks. Probably with the hope that he could come too. Our sandwich idea didn't work out, and it was too dark now.

“To get a decent cup of coffee.” Five exclaims.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Alison crosses her arms.

“I know how to do everything.” And he blinks away.

Klaus's reaction is delayed. He stands up after Five leaves and holds out his hand like he's still there. “I feel like we should try and stop him.” He turns back to us. “But then again, I also just kinda want to see what happens.”

We all turned our heads to the wall as we heard noises from the outside. It was a car engine turning on, proof that Five wasn't bluffing. Now I kinda wish I could join him. The car speeds off and we hear Diego’s lovely voice as he walks into the room.

“All right, I guess I'll see you guys in, what, ten years? When Pogo dies next?” He says.

“Not if you die first.” I smile. Klaus bursts out into fits of laughter as Alison fake coughs to mask hers.

“Yeah, well love you too Y/n.”

He stops at Alison. “Good luck on your next film.” Was he actually being nic— “Hope it turns out better than your marriage, huh?” No of course not..

Diego finally walks away when Alison looks like she’s about to say something but she turns her back and walks away instead in the opposite direction.

“Gotta run sweetie, love you!” Klaus calls out before running after Diego.

I sigh as I hear the sound of them leaving in Diego's car. I'm surprised by the fact that he even has one. I'm left by myself once again, now I'm not sure what to do at all. So I went back to my room.

On my long walk home, because I wasn't in the mood to wait for a taxi, I passed by Giddy's Doughnuts. My old place of employment when I left the Academy. I had a job there to earn some money to get on my feet.

I wasn't going to take any handouts because of my “last name” and definitely wasn't getting any money from Reginald. Well, I doubt he’d ever give me any because I did technically run away.

Since Klaus ditched me to hang out with the less cool Diego, I thought I'd stop by and say hello to Agnes.

“What the fu—“ I screamed as I walked through the door. There were Five absolutely beating the shit out of like six people.

Their bodies lay on the floors in their own pools of blood. Five looked petrified at the sound of my voice, dropping the man whose neck he just snapped.

His face switches back to a calm one as he sees me staring at them. “Don’t try to help them, it's not worth it.” He says walking to the large island in front of the doughnuts. “Come here and help me with this.”

I walk over immediately trying not to step on any parts of these men. “Fiv-“

He cuts me off. “Cut open my arm, will you? Right here.” My face drops.

“Aren’t you the one who can heal people? Come on.” Five rushes. I forgot that we barely know each other, well I know more about him than he does about me. Because he ran away at such an odd time in our lives.

I gulped down the puke that was about to come up and grabbed the knife he was holding out. I cut slowly into his upper arm, he told me to make a slice and when I did he barely flinched. After I put my hand on him to start to heal the wound. And I felt the urge to say sorry for what I'm doing but then he stops me.

“What is that?” I ask, pointing to the beeping device he rips out of his arm.

“I'll explain later, come with me.” He says getting up. But letting me heal him first.

We walk out of Griddy's and he drops the device in a puddle. Looking back at the stores I feel bad for Agnes. I could see her pink headwear poking out from behind the island. At least she wasn't hurt.

Five blinked us upstairs into someone’s apartment. I knew it wasn’t his own so I started to get suspicious. “Who lives here?” I ask but get no response.

All of a sudden whoever lives here keys, start to rattle the door as they walk in. Surprisingly instead of some random person that five was going to kill and steal their house. It was Vanya opening the door. I felt a sense of relief.

“Jesus!” She whisper shouts, seeing the two of us in her apartment. We sat on her two living room chairs as Five turned on a lamp to scare her.

“You should have locks on your windows.” He says

“I live on the second floor”

“Rapists can climb” he states and I give him a look.

“You are so weird,” I say. Vanya closes the door and sits on the couch next to us.

No one talks for a second before Vanya asks a question.

“Why are you guys here? And why together?” She asked. I was about to tell her that I'd been kidnapped by a teenager when Five spoke up.

He sighs. “I’ve decided that you're the only one I can trust.” I glanced at him. “The only two I can trust.” He corrects himself.

“Why me?” She questions.

“Because you’re ordinary.” I gave him another glance. “Because you’ll listen.”

He groans. “When I jumped foward and got stuck in the future, do you know what I found?” He asked us.

“No” Vanya shakes her head.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.” He paused. “As far as I could tell, I was the last person left alive. I never figured out what killed the human race, but. I did find something else.”

“What was it?” I asked. The suspense was killing me.

“The date it happens. The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it.”

My jaw was hanging on the ground, that's how much it opened hearing his news. Vanya sat there looking the same.

“I'll put on a pot of coffee.”

…

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

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lesinquietes · 1 month ago

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Summary: Seeking a fresh start, you and three others rent an old house in the countryside. There’s an issue with the boiler, but other than that, the place is in good condition. Your friends fall in love with the mansion’s aged charm and solitude. You wish you could join them in their excitement. Unfortunately, you can’t stop thinking about the basement. Something about the cool, barren atmosphere both tempts and horrifies you. You get the sense that, if you ever tread there, the darkness won’t hesitate to engulf you. Your final breath, as your soul is expelled from your body, will be used to utter the culprit’s name: Alucard. Only in death will you find reprieve. The problem is, he doesn’t intend to let you perish. Pretty puppet, your suffering is merely the beginning of an immortal life by his side. Modern AU.

Pairing: Yandere!Alucard x AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ (minors don’t interact), angst, horror, psychological manipulation, sexual themes, violence.

Next l

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

hello yes happy october do some of y’all remember this og story? couldn’t resist rewriting it for spooky season. and make no mistake — when I say spooky season, I don’t just mean october. fall and winter are seasons where odd things happen, usually out in nature. lets make these next few months extra chilling

The Basement’s Monster: Prelude

From the landing and through the open door, stairs made of old, unreliable wood dip down into a black abyss. Stone walls guide their path — wherever it may go — spurring the pleasant scent of damp cement and pungent moss. You can’t see the bottom. And despite this, part of you knows that there’s something there; something that’s ravenous.

You swallow. Both palms gripping the door frame, you feel as though your shoes are embedded in thick glaciers of ice, glueing you firmly in place. There’s a tug in your heart. It implores you to descend. It halfway convinces you that monsters and demons and all beings of lore don’t exist. You’re content that you know better than to indulge in cowardice disguised as logic.

Normally, you don’t believe in this sort of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred in your life that you’ve been incapable of explaining — until now. You don’t know how to conceptualize what you felt upon walking through the door of this decrepit mansion. A mixture of sorrow and yearning, perhaps, with an additional emotion you can’t put your finger on. In any case, it drew you all the way here, to the basement door.

“(F/n)!”

You perk up. Her voice is distant, but that’s your friend. She’s upstairs with the real estate agent and the others. You open your mouth to call back. You can’t muster a sound. With a shaky hand, you rub the front of your neck. The sensation that there’s a palm pressed against it, squeezing only subtly, is unnerving. Predictably, there’s nothing there.

Defeated, you close your dry lips and direct your attention back to the darkness. You peer through the shadows, as though your eyes are capable of slicing through all obscurity, powerful as the Light of Christ. A sobering quote from Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil resounds in your head. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. You would be a fool to think the beast isn’t examining you, too.

On cue, words as bitter and husky as a tannic merlot travel a short distance to rest in your ears. His tone, deep and masculine, grips your shoulders like the talons of a mythical creature. Instantly, it stirs unrest in the pit of your waning soul. You can’t tell if you’re dissociating or on the cusp of a spiritual awakening.

Come, little one. Find me.

Gooseflesh appears on your arms. Your nipples harden when you register the breeze wafting up from the passageway. Your jaw unhooks, teeth chattering softly as you process what just transpired.

Realistically, there’s no way this is real. You hate to sound generic, but you conclude that it must have been your imagination; in fact, all of this probably is. You and your friends have been watching more horror movies than usual to amp up for Halloween. Haunted houses freak you out, and your brain has decided to torture you this evening.

Your knuckles are white from the force with which you’re gripping the frame, frightened that your will, alone, won’t be enough to keep you from exploring. You want to be positive that this truly is all in your head. The basement beckons for you to debunk the reality you’ve dedicated yourself to — the convenient lie that there are solely mortals residing on this plane of existence.

You want to satiate that curiosity of yours, no? Its teasing snicker is innately threatening. Come, pretty human.

Your head spins. Dizziness washes over you, nearly causing a heavy collapse. The voice is anxiety-inducing. You’re hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

You’re going crazy; that’s the only viable solution for this spell of hallucinations and delusions. Ghosts don’t exist. Demons don’t exist. Satan is an arguable concept.

But I classify myself as none of those creatures, sweetness.

When you let your eyelids fall, a silhouette appears in the darkness. You inhale sharply and refrain from blinking. You have to find your friends; unsupervised and weak, you could topple forwards and fall down the stairs.

Though I command fear not unlike the Archfiend, I do so to those who earn it.

Tears pool the bottoms of your strained petals, lubricating your orbs as you battle the trepidation afflicting you. You try to focus on your quivering breath. You can hear its tremble, as well as your quickening heartbeat, in your ears. It’s causing your temples to pound.

You don’t want to blink… but you have to.

You whimper meekly, the demon’s silhouette becoming clearer to you. It’s a being with a blood-coloured fedora and round, reflective lenses. He’s wearing a crimson overcoat, ruffled at his wide shoulders. You can’t decipher any more of his physical features; he’s intentionally shrouded them.

And you have not earned my ire.

In a deranged, wretched way, his claim placates you. If, in any form, this thing that’s haunting you is real, you want to trust that it means you no harm. You know that’s a fool’s game, however; main characters seldom benefit from bearing their neck to the foe.

I’ve been waiting for you, (f/n).

You blink. The silhouette is getting closer to you. Hes halfway up the basement stairs, and you can’t move a fucking inch.

Open your mind to me.

You’re panicking. You don’t want to let him in, but how does one open or close their mind? Again, if this is real, you’re a sitting duck to his influence. He’s far stronger than you could ever hope to be.

Your eyelids shut. He’s almost at the top step. You make out pale skin beneath a white dress shirt that’s accented with a scarlet ascot. Once more and he’ll have you.

That’s it; let me in.

He’s close enough to choke you. These were the hands you could have sworn you felt on your neck earlier; these were the fingers that toyed with the idea of wringing the vitality from your supple soul. Inwardly, you’re frantic. You might have a heart attack before this monster reaches you. Your pupils dilate as the man materializes in the darkness, like a menacing apparition. You wish you could run. Why can’t you run… why can’t you run?!

“(F/n)!”

You gasp. In an instant, his illusion is shattered; the beast retreats in the presence of a love, sucked back into his hole. You blink, and his figure is gone. No part of him, aside from the chilling memories he’s imprinted on you, remains.

You allow yourself to inhale greedily. Your lungs feel empty. Your heart doesn’t cease its galloping — it won’t for a while. An anxiety attack vibrates like thunder in your body. Whether you grasp it or not, this is merely the calm before the storm.

Mindfully, you crane your neck to the side, collecting your gaze from the unpredictable darkness. It’s a feat. The demon doesn’t want to release you from his manipulative hold, but he’s perceivably weaker than before. The presence of another human is diffusing his hypnosis.

There, a few feet away, stands the same friend who was calling your name earlier. Her name’s Ericson. Chocolate brown orbs sweep over you, assessing your physical state. Worry clouds them when she notices your expression. She tucks a long, brown strand behind her ear and swallows.

“Oh, shit… you don’t look so good.”

Fortunately, Ericson isn’t one to waste time. The young woman hooks her elbows beneath your arms and pries you away from the basement door. She helps you into a chair near the landing of the stairs. From there, she does what you were silently begging her to do; she shuts the basement door and secures the latch.

You exhale, unburdened and breathless. Finally, the nightmare has ended. You don’t hear his voice. You don’t see his image. You don’t feel drawn to his domain. You may be free of him. That begs the daunting question, though; if he wasn’t a product of your sanity slipping, what the fuck was he?

You groan, pressing cool fingertips to your warm forehead. Have you been stressed? Sure. Stress, alone, doesn’t warrant hallucinations, however. Until you have further evidence that you’re cracking, you have no choice but to believe what you experienced was beyond what mortals comprehend about existence.

“I… don’t know what just happened.” You confess, at last. “I felt… like I had to see the basement.”

Ericson rubs your shoulders from behind the chair, soothing you. It’s sweet of her. Your thoughts are marathoning at an Olympic pace, but your body is rooted in a slower reality.

“And… there was a guy down there… but… he wasn’t… he wasn’t…”

You’re unable to utter that you don’t think the perpetrator was another human being. It sounds silly, even as you rehearse the sentence in your head. Ericson will think you’re losing it.

“Easy.” She utters gingerly. “Chill out for a sec before you say more.”

She’s right. You could stand to decelerate. You take a moment to recalibrate yourself. What were you doing before this? Right. You were surveying the downstairs portion of the house while the others toured upstairs. You couldn’t shake your compulsion to investigate the basement. From the moment you walked through the front gate of the yard, and ventured up the cobblestone path, an invisible rope was tied around your torso, tugging it towards the monster. Ericson wouldn’t be telling you to settle down if she knew what was lurking directly below her feet.

Did she, or any of the others, feel it, too? You gulp. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

“This whole place feels wrong.” You admit vaguely. “Don’t you think?”

Much to your chagrin, she seems perplexed by your appraisal.

“Actually, we were just saying how peaceful it is here.”

Visibly, you recoil. Oof. Well, you can’t fault them for that. The market for renting a house is steep. You and your friends only found the posting for this estate because you wanted to move further away from the city. The renter — a family member of the previous owner, an old man — is offering the property for an exceptional price. If they don’t go with this one, they may not find a better deal.

“Look.” You start. “I felt something weird when I was standing near the basement… and it freaked me the fuck out.”

Ericson is adhering to you intently.

“What happened? Seriously. You said you saw a guy?”

“It wasn’t a guy so much as it was… like, a ghost or something.”

He wasn’t a ghost or a spectre, a demon or a moniker of Satan; he said so, himself. Nonetheless, at a loss for how else to describe him, that’s the fictional being you elected to choose. He doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before, in books of old, in legends transcending cultures, in hieroglyphs from ancient people long gone — he’s something else entirely.

“A ghost?” She echoes.

“I don’t know.”

The two of you are quiet. She doesn’t buy your story. You can feel her judging you as she walks around the chair. Finally, she kneels in front of you. There’s a solemn emotion on her gentle visage.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” She asks. “I can install, like, ten locks on the basement door.”

You smile. It might not permanently solve the problem, but it does make you feel safer. Crazy or not, you want to stay separated from the basement. If you all agree to seal it up tight, you may be willing to accommodate their desire to rent. After all, you have no qualms with it beyond the monster that’s made a home in its guts.

“I’m just sketched out.”

She nods.

“Seems like it.”

“I just— I really think I saw something down there.”

“I believe you.”

She doesn’t, though. It’s uncomfortable to be the sole one who has an issue with this place. To the untrained eye, it looks like you’re purposefully being difficult. Guilt and shame wash over you. Is it fair for you to be writing this home off without hearing the opposite to your opinion?

“You all like it here?”

You prompt your friend.

“We do.” She shrugs. “It’s a forty-five minute drive to work for Nelly.”

That’s another one of your friends. She’s keeping her profession in the city, so it’s necessary for her to approve of the distance between there and her new pad. A commute of under an hour was one of her requests. Her second and final request is that the house is quiet. That’s two for two.

“Cree wants to head into town to look for work.”

Unsurprising. Cree didn’t do anything with his degree. He’s saving up to attend graduate school. As for town, it isn’t anything extravagant. There’s a small grocery store with a liquor hub inside, and a convenience store that’s open ‘til 9 beside it. A pharmacy is on the same strip of land, along with a hardware store. Pump-your-own gas is a couple kilometres down the street. Two cafes and a bookstore caught your eye when you were driving in. A couple of fast food joints, as well. Doesn’t Cree want better opportunities for himself? Maybe he can earn more money elsewhere.

“The previous owner didn’t have access to the Internet, but the realtor tested the connection and didn’t have a problem.” She explains. “So, I’m thinking I’ll do data entry and school.”

That makes sense. Ericson doesn’t need to leave the homestead often, so she’s comfortable in any location with wifi. A chill runs down your spine at the notion of her in this hellhole alone. That would make her easy prey.

“You said you’d need the Internet for work too, right?”

“Oh… yeah.”

That’s true. Your job is remote. You and Ericson can look out for each other, if all else fails. It might not be so bad. With one car shared amongst the four of you, and no community bus stops in this county, it’s not like she can forsake you. Already, the prospect of not being by yourself feels better.

Ericson studies your expression. She can tell you’re deliberating hard on whether or not to move into this option. Biassed, she prays she can convince you. She racks her brain to determine what she can use to show you how secure you’ll be with them. Beyond wanting to live here, she doesn’t care for the fear in your eyes. Although she doesn’t subscribe to the idea of supernatural creatures, she makes it her mission to comfort you.

“Nelly pole dances.”

“What?”

“Nelly pole dances.” She reiterates. “Do you know how much upper body strength that woman has? We’re safe with her.”

You suppose she’s an asset when it comes to physical threats. You ponder. Does the creature in the basement manifest itself into this sphere; could Nelly hurt him?

“And Cree offered to smudge us before we move in.”

You lift a curious brow.

“Smudge us?”

“Yeah. Like, he’ll cleanse the house too, obviously, but he said he wants us all to enter this chapter of our lives in a good place.”

Cree is an indigenous man. Proudly, he bears the same namesake as his people. His father was a healer, and thus, he carries with him similar techniques and energies, passed along by lineage and teaching. Again, you feel safer knowing he’s got the best intentions for you.

“And you know me.” She winks cheekily. “Orange belt.”

You chuckle shortly. She recently graduated from yellow to orange in her adult karate class. Soon after, she admitted that she knows a few defensive moves. She’s certainly not someone you’d want to rely on during a physical altercation, but she’s great for introducing logic into the conversation and, of course, comedic relief.

“With these things considered, would you be willing to give this place a chance?”

You want to be down; you want so badly to be down. You can tell this is where your friends wish to move, but you can’t shake the sensation that renting it would be a horrible idea. It isn’t your anxiety talking; there’s a predator beneath you.

“I need the realtor to check the basement.”

That’s your condition. If the realtor agrees to verify that no one else is in the house, and nothing is amiss in its depths, you’re willing to give the ageing building a shot.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.” You authenticate. “And the day we pick up the keys.”

The entity could be attached to one of the former’s tenant’s personal items. If that’s the case, moving his things out will eliminate the issue entirely. You’ve heard stories like that before, wherein a spirit is tied to a belonging and not the house it inhabits.

“Done.” Ericson claps. “Anything else?”

You shake your head. If things get exceptionally bad, you understand that the option of subletting your room will always be there. As much as you don’t want to contemplate having to abandon your companions, this thing only seems to be attacking you for now. Removing yourself could turn out to be the route you have to take in the end, should you want to retain your sanity.

“I’m in, so long as nothing strange happens during the inspections.”

Directly below your feet, the creature hums. Nothing weird. Fine, that’s a condition he can meet if it means he gets to keep you. He’ll shrink himself when the realtor steps into his space. The room will be welcoming. You’ll have no room to argue about a foreboding atmosphere without losing credibility. You’re a smart woman; you won’t disagree with the verdict for the sake of appeasing your friends.

He’s amused by your silly antics to hopelessly protect yourself. Smudging won’t help. He isn’t a spirit, and your ancestors can’t save you from the type of creature he is. Undead, he may be, but not the sort that hovers inches above the ground and howls mournfully through the tombstones; on the contrary, he’s a vampire.

He observes you with pleasant curiosity, as Ericson embraces your silent form giddily. She successfully convinced you to take up residence in this home. He didn’t have to influence her to do so; the house sold itself. But you understand the dangers that lurk down here, don’t you? Yes. Sweet little lamb, your pure heart calls to his pungent blackhole, coaxing him like prey frollicking through a clearing. He will have no choice but to pounce, should he entrance you into his domain.

You were correct to think that he’s bound to an item. He can go no further than the top landing, just beyond the basement door, and therefore, his influence over mortals is weak. The last time he roamed this earth freely was decades ago, in London, England. After a grand battle over two decades ago, he was bound to an amulet by a member of the Hellsing family. Miserably, it was his old master, Integra’s, last bitter gift to him; she never wanted him to taste true freedom.

Unfortunately, the old man has no relation to that family. If he was, the nightstalker might have given him a slow, painful death to make reparations between him and the Hellsings. Unceremoniously, he simply found the amulet at a thrift store. He demanded to see it outside of its locked display case. The second he held it, the vampire took advantage of his feeble nature. He bought the piece of jewellery. From then, until the day his relatives put his home up for rent, one name slithered through his transfixed mind: Alucard. He served only Alucard.

Disappointment rocked him when he realized that the male’s aged body was unable to handle the tasks required for him to be released from the amulet. He can’t kill a woman and spill her blood over his jewel. He can’t restrain you and force the gaudy thing around your neck. And he sure as hell can’t slit his own throat with all the dull blades he has lying around; he lacks the physical strength.

Planning to remove the old man for his senile behaviour — particularly when most of his oddities were spurred by Alucard’s sinister influence — was a rich outcome that the shapeshifter prayed to Death for. He wanted to lure someone like you into his clutches. He was waiting for an opportunity to be freed from his constricting prison.

He knows the amulet can’t be placed anywhere in clear sight. The realtor will see it if he makes the hiding spot too obvious. He’ll have to make one of your roommates discover its location — or, maybe you’re the perfect candidate for the task. He hasn’t decided how he wishes to orchestrate his release from this cursed piece of jewellery yet. One thing’s for certain, though; you’re going to play a crucial role in his resurgence. The others may perish in what is to come, but you? He’s growing a soft spot for you.

You’re guided upstairs to rejoin the rest of your crew. There are two more people on the second floor, not including the agent. He smirks. Oh, how he enjoys culling a delicate herd.

He reflects on his past. Earlier in his life, when he was being stalked along the slopes of Romania by van Hellsing and his crew, he took an interest in two young women. Lucy Westenra and Mina Harker were the epitome of innocence, both in different ways. The true enjoyment lied in corrupting them, sometimes gradually, as they descended into darkness with their hesitant hands in his. Seras Victoria provided a similar rush of exhilaration, centuries later.

Over time, the amulet is weakening, allowing for him to use more of his powers in the confined space that he has. What kind of sharp adrenaline will rush through his icy veins as he hunts you? What sort of lust will you stir in his chest, a dead garden with thorns sharp enough to puncture, and long branches that impale? Perhaps your story as (f/n) will come to a close when his fangs dip into your neck, syphoning your life for his pleasure, and begin anew as his beautiful, undead wife, destined to serve him for several eternities.

#18+ minors dni #the basement’s monster #alucard hellsing #hellsing x reader #yandere alucard #alucard x reader #yandere alucard x reader #yandere vampire x reader #fem reader

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