#Wound Dressing Industry

[mohitbisresearch]

The global advanced wound dressing market, valued at $6,201.6 million in 2022 and projected to reach $8,383.1 million by 2030, exhibiting a CAGR of 3.89% during the forecast period 2023 to 2030.

Advanced wound dressing market is expanding rapidly, driven by an aging population, rising incidence of chronic diseases, and continuous innovations in wound care technology.

[xshadowdelta]

FORMER MANAGER

PART 3: Crazy.

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader (3.7k length)

The rays of sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the bedroom made you wake up. You felt sleepy and tired, when you sat up in bed you noticed how all your muscles were feeling pain from the big effort that your whole body had made the night before.

A thin sheet covered the lower half of your body. From the waist up, you were completely naked, you could see some scratches and slight wounds on your arms. You assumed that your back was in worse condition, but you had no way to confirm it.

You got out of bed wearing some simple boxers, and as soon as you stood up, your legs wobbled. God, if only the night had ended in the shower, but no, Eunbi was not satisfied with just that, you both had to take the party back to bed, making that shower in something totally useless.

The owner of your thoughts burst into the room while you picked up your clothes scattered on the bedroom floor. Smiling, happy and unlike you without traces of consequences of the turbulent night experienced. Moving from side to side, in and out of the bathroom getting ready and getting dressed, making you seriously doubt how bad your physical condition was at that moment.

She came up to you, while you were still putting on your shoes to finish dressing, and placed a soft kiss on your forehead that made you raise your head and face her.

“Did you sleep well?”

“As much as I could.” You replied, standing next to her.

“It's not that I want to kick you out or anything, but I have work, you know?”

“Yeah of course, I understand, do you want me to take you?” She shook her head.

“My manager will come pick me up right away, don’t worry.” She approached you with a mischievous smile.

"And relax, I don't do anything with him that I did with you." She whispered in your ear, making you blush.

“Listen to me, last night was…”

“It was fantastic, but it was wrong and should not be repeated?” That made you frown. “I assumed you would say it, you told that to Yuri too, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“Now you listen to me.” She interrupted you again. “There was nothing wrong with what we did. I wanted it, you wanted it and we both enjoyed it, no problem except that you're too cute to be around girls like us.”

You sighed tiredly, you knew that when she got into that mood there was no person or argument in the world that would make her change her mind, stubbornness typical of a leader.

"Besides if it really pricks your conscience and you think it was that bad..." She took a few steps in your direction. “Next time, I'm sure you'll resist…” She whispered, touching your lips in a sensual kiss.

And you were weak, extremely weak and helpful, very helpful, you were always there to satisfy whatever your girls needed, and it doesn't seem like you were going to make exceptions now.

“Can I at least trust that no one will know about this?”

“It is my career as an idol that is at stake, of course no one will know… no one from the outside at least…”

"What do you mean?"

“Well…” She whirled around playfully. “Girls may already know.”

“NOONA!”

This situation only became more and more complicated, you had to stop all of this immediately because it was no longer just your job that was at stake, now the girls' professional careers as well.

Your fear was no longer being discovered by someone from the company but by someone from the press. You hadn't been in the industry for many years, but you knew perfectly how it worked. Scandals like this one have destroyed other idols in the past.

On the other hand, idols relationships were practically an open secret, they were still human, and despite having to act with special caution regarding some specific topics, they should not deprive themselves about anything.

The sound of your phone chased away all those thoughts, the light was constantly flashing, a sign that you had a new message. Strange since due to the short time you had been in the country, very few people had your contact beyond the staff of your company, and that was your day off.

You unlocked it and were surprised to read, 'Kim Chaewon sent you a new message.' True, the night before you had exchanged contacts with the girls.

'Good morning oppa! I remembered that today you had the day off, I need your help with some things, can you help me please? I'll wait for you.’

Along with the message, she shared a location, which after opening with the map application on your phone, you discovered that it was the Hybe building. You felt a sudden pressure. It is really okay for you to go there?

However, you didn't take long to respond to her message, 'On my way.' You were too helpful when it came to these girls.

“And this is where all the magic happens.” You laughed when you heard that phrase when she opened the door to the LE SSERAFIM practice room, after giving you a short tour of the building.

“It's like three times bigger than it was years ago.” You talked to yourself by observing everything around you.

“What can I say? I'm a superstar." She said with superiority, shaking the dust off her shoulders.

“Whatever you say, Miss Superstar.” You scoffed. “Well, what was that I had to help you with?”

"Personal opinion." She said cheerfully clasping her hands together. You stared at her, somewhat confused.

“In a couple of days, we will release a new comeback, everything is ready: the album, photobook, b-sides, performances, and stages. But I would like to have an honest opinion from someone outside before I start promoting.” She explained sitting on the couch.

"I see…"

She pointed, lightly tapping with her hand, to the spot on the sofa that was free next to her. You sat in there, and she lent you her mobile phone, where she played the unreleased MV of her new song. You watched it, paying attention to all the possible details, although somewhat overwhelmed, because Chaewon practically above you, inches away, kept an eye on your reactions.

“And?” She asked somewhat anxiously once you were done with the visualization.

“It's...different, but it definitely has its addictive point.

"What about me?"

"You? Impeccable as always, Chaewon.”

“Oppa please, you must be more critical, otherwise I won't be able to improve.” She said this, throwing a small tantrum.

“Chaewon, I don't understand anything about music production, dance, or anything like that. I can only speak to you as a fan, and I really like what I've seen here.”

You watched her puff out her cheeks adorably, snatching the electronic device from your hands with a huff of annoyance as she was typing something.

"What are you doing?" You asked, but the only answer you got was how she stacked the phone screen over your face. You pulled back a bit, so your eyes could focus on what she was showing you now.

“Now, look at this.” She said it, still with an annoyed tone in her voice.

You picked up the phone again, it was a fancam, focused solely on Chaewon, from one of the songs she had previously promoted. You pressed the play button and started watching the video.

Right away, you recognized the song, it was good, and you liked it enough to have had it on loop at the moment it came out. But it had one small bad part, the choreography. Seeing in certain seconds how Chaewon shook her butt to the rhythm of the music while she looked intensely at you was definitely uncomfortable.

You looked away just as that part came, but you instantly felt a stab of pain in your arm. You looked over at Chaewon, who was pinching the skin on your arm.

“Don't stop looking.” She recriminated. You knew what her temper was like and that it was best to obey her, so your eyes returned to the screen.

“What do you think?” Her voice now left her mouth in a whisper, moving closer to you. You didn't answer, you were trying to find the right answer.

“My ass is also addictive, right?” She whispered next to your ear, her hand was starting to rub over your pants, right in your crotch area.

"Chaewon, what are you doing?" You asked, tense, without looking away from the video, totally hypnotized.

“I worked really hard for that performance…” Her hand slipped directly under your pants, freeing your slightly hard penis.

“C-C-Chaewon…”

"Shhh, just enjoy my fancam, oppa." She placed a kiss on your cheek before starting to massage your cock.

You let out a moan, noticing how your cock throbbed and grew bigger and bigger under her small hand until it reached its maximum size, making her exclaim a moan of surprise.

“Oppa, you are huge!” She commented, biting your earlobe as her hand ran up and down the length of your cock at a sensual but damn slow pace.

"Fuck Chaewon, it's your ass that's huge." The girl smiled as she saw how you couldn't take your eyes off the video.

She suddenly increased the pace of masturbation when the video ended, and she reached out her hand to press the play button again, but you were faster and went ahead of her, causing her to giggle.

"Impatient."

“Capricious.” Both of you were looking each other, lost into those eyes that seemed to speak to you, and without a single word you understood each other, joining your lips in a rough and wild kiss.

Her other hand moved to your balls, playing with them, which seemed to have regained their full capacity after the long night that Eunbi had subjected them to. Even you yourself were surprised by it.

You observed the expression on her face once you separated from her, she still had her eyes closed and a satisfied smile on her lips. Now, with both hands around your huge shaft, stroking it non-stop, trying to squeeze you out.

She got on her knees on her spot on the couch, crouching over your lap, bringing her face closer to your penis to give your tip a shy lick. Another moan left your mouth, which was joined by a set of them when her hand went up in an agonizing manner by the length of your cock, almost closing over your tip, that was already dripping with pre-seminal fluid, which was licked off by Chaewon's tongue.

You held the Smartphone with one hand to direct your free hand to her ass, which stood out as she was in that position. Massaging for a while and giving her a hard spank that echoed throughout the practice room.

As a result, Chaewon's movements became more frantic, with her hands completely wrapping the length of your cock, rubbing as much as she could while your moans accompanied the rhythm.

The video ended again and stayed with the image of the thumbnail with Chaewon's face as a screensaver. She moved your hand that was holding the device and brought it over your cock, giving you a few harder strokes, making you cum and letting out a stream of cum on her face projected on the screen.

“Fuck Chaewon…that was intense.” You said, breathing heavily with your eyes closed, catching your breath.

You felt her move on the sofa, snatching the phone, now sticky and slippery, from your hands. Given that, you opened your eyes to see her straddling over your lap. Her eyes were radiating lust and desire.

She showed you again how her face, in the image of that fancam, was completely covered by your cum, and she gave the screen of her Smartphone a sensual and slow lick, cleaning it and absorbing every drop of cum on it.

Witnessing that scene was super hot, like the atmosphere that had become around you in that room. Chaewon grabbed her small bag on the couch, took something out of it, and threw it away along with the cell phone. She showed you the condom she had taken out of the bag, and your heart pounded.

“Are we safe here?” You asked, realizing the place you were in. Damn, you were going to fuck Chaewon in the fucking Hybe building, you had lost your mind.

“I got the practice room for myself today, there are no security cameras here.” She whispered against your lips.

“What about that one?” You pointed your head to the area where there was a pile of technological elements, among which was a small recording camera with a tripod that they used to record themselves and later analyze their failures and things to improve.

“Do you want us to record what is about to happen?” And as much as you would have liked to, plus the curiosity that filming that would give you, you shook your head.

"Maybe next time."

Next time? Of course, because you were already sure there would be a next time. You didn't know if it would be with Chaewon, Eunbi, Yuri or who else would join this game. Because you had to be stupid not to realize that this was more than planned by all of them, it seemed like some kind of internal competition, and you were the prize.

Even trying to deny yourself with all your might, the part of your brain that was dedicated to controlling your impulses and emotions had completely lost control in a matter of less than one fucking day. Now your devilish part controls you, behaving like an animal in heat. Regardless of the consequences, the only thing that ran through your mind was giving Chaewon the best orgasm of her life.

The girl with short hair opened the condom wrapper and placed it around your erect cock, then she stood on the couch to pull down her leggings, exposing that butt that you had admired so much minutes ago.

Your hands quickly traveled to her buttocks, massaging and worshiping them. She was still standing on the couch, sighing at your touch, while she took off her shirt, and you took the opportunity to fill her belly with kisses.

She grabbed your face with both hands, forcing you to look up and meet her gaze. You brought your hands to her hips, and she began to descend slightly, taking your cock in her hand and aligning it with the entrance to her pussy.

You stared at each other without blinking during those seconds that seemed eternal. The tip of your cock collided with her pussy, beginning to penetrate it, drawing a moan from Chaewon.

You caressed her hips, her arms, and her back as she stayed in that position. You moved closer to kiss her lips, softly and lovingly.

"Ready?"

She nodded, dropping onto your lap, making her pussy take in the entirety of your cock in one fell swoop. She screamed, leaning against your chest, and you completely surrounded her with your arms, hugging her.

When she got used to having your huge penis inside her, she separated herself a few centimeters, starting to move, acquiring a slow rhythm at first but accelerating as time went by.

Chaewon was now jumping on your cock with strength and energy. You could feel your cock reaching her stomach on every decent, and you helped her go even deeper.

Her moans transformed into screams of passion. She was being filled by you with every thrust, and it seemed to not be enough for her, she was totally intoxicated by lust and was letting herself be carried away by pleasure.

The sounds of your bodies colliding together, along with your moans, destroyed any kind of silence there might be in that room. Soon, the festival of lascivious sounds would be joined by the palm of your hand hitting her buttocks and her desperate screams begging for more.

“Please, oppa, make my ass hurt, it deserves to receive a beating.” At this point, her butt was already red, but you just wanted to fulfill her wish, and you spanked her harder.

"You're still my bratty girl, I can't deny you anything." You said, intertwining the fingers of your hands with hers.

She gritted her teeth tightly, once again burying your cock directly into her womb, a trail of saliva beginning to leak from her mouth.

"Oppa, your bratty girl wants to cum!" She screamed, raising her hips in a desperate attempt to reach orgasm.

“Hold on just a little longer, Chaewon, do it for oppa.” You moaned, grabbing her hips and moving yours at a strong pace, pounding her pussy like an animal, causing her eyes to turn white.

“OH MY GOD, OPPA!” Her entire body trembled because of your thrusts.

The rudeness that this whole situation was taking was slipping out of your hands, the sweet and pretty Kim Chaewon that you once knew was now just a piece of meat that you were being used for your own enjoyment.

You hugged her again, pressing her against your body, hers continued to rise and fall constantly, touching your lips every moment. Tears and sobs began to come out of the girl's eyes and mouth. You kissed her sweetly and she reciprocated immediately.

“You did very well Chaewon, let's get you that orgasm…” You said, thrusting into her again with all your strength.

Her body reacted to your moves and fought against yours, it practically seemed like a fight in which neither of you wanted to give in and the first to cum would lose.

A naughty finger traveled to her ass, entering into her small hole making her open her mouth muffling a squeal, now that finger was going in and out of her ass at the same time that your cock was doing the same movement in her pussy.

Chaewon gripped the sofa, placing her hands on either side of your head, her body was already moving by inertia and instinct, her brain had long been overwhelmed by excess pleasure.

She lay on your chest crying, yelling a few insults at you and giving in to the pleasure, curving her back and letting out a large stream of fluids from her pussy.

Her body trembled against yours, which is why you hugged her, caressing her hair, trying to calm her down. Even without being fully recovered, she looked for your member with her hands, found it and took off the condom to masturbate you again.

You lifted her chin with your hand, kissing her again while her grip grew stronger as she regained energy, stroking your cock more and more roughly until you too succumbed and let out another large load of semen that spread across the sofa and part of the floor of the practice room that Chaewon did not hesitate to lick and clean immediately.

Once she left everything clean and swallowed your cum, she climbed back onto your lap, resting there for a while.

“I love being oppa's spoiled girl.” She closed her eyes, guiding one of your hands to her cheek so you could caress it.

“You all girls are.” You said, causing her to open her eyes and look at you angrily.

"I do more!" That made you laugh.

“Hmm, I think I had Wonyoung more spoiled than I had you.” She sat up angrily, making you laugh harder, you kissed her again, trying to calm her down.

“I'm the best for oppa.” She said between kisses surrounding your neck.

Suddenly, knocks were heard at the door of the room, making both of you jump in your seats in surprise and fear.

“Chaewon unnie!” was heard from the other side of the door. Chaewon jumped off the couch, recognizing that voice.

“Kazuha?”

Both of you dressed as quickly as you could, fixing your entire appearance, trying to hide what had happened there. You hid the used condom, and Chaewon sprayed some fragrance around the room to camouflage the smell of sex.

Still fixing her hair, Chaewon opened the door, seeing her member.

“What are you doing here, Zuha? Did something happen?” The leader asked with some concern.

“Our dance trainer said she wanted to discuss something last minute with you, before starting promotions for the new album, so she asked me to come to notify you.” Chaewon sighed in relief for a moment until she remembered that you were still there with her.

"Unnie, who is he?" The japanese girl asked, entering the room and looking at you.

"Oh! He's an old friend of mine, we were just having a little chat." She lied, trying to sound as real as possible.

“But I guess we should continue this talk in another time, it looks like you have a job to do now.” You commented without ignoring the fact that Kazuha still didn't look away from you.

“I guess so.” Chaewon sighed tiredly. “Okay oppa, we'll be in touch, okay? See you." She said goodbye with her hand, leaving the room.

You saw how she disappeared, and you thought it was time to leave too, you bowed to Kazuha and she responded in the same way, and you headed for the exit.

“Can I ask you something?” Kazuha's voice stopped you instantly.

"Sure, what do you need?" You asked, turning to look at her.

“Old friend means you are Chaewon unnie’s boyfriend?” You blushed at that question because of how no hesitation she had in asking that.

“No, no, we're just friends, for real.” A cute smile forms on her face.

"Then…"

Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets, and your face was totally flushed at her request. Had you heard wrong?

“Excuse me, but can you repeat that?”

The girl also blushed and looked embarrassed at the practice room floor before whispering again.

“Can you have sex with me the same way you did with Chaewon unnie?”

[joeypetter]

Wound Dressing Market is reaching US$9, 14.5 Bn at a CAGR of 9.6% between 2022-2030 by Reports and Insights

The report is titled as ‘Wound Dressing Market: Opportunity Analysis and Future Assessment 2020-2028’. An overview of conceptual frameworks, analytical approaches of the wound dressing market is the main objective of the report, which further consists the market opportunity and insights of the data involved in the making of the respective market. Wound dressing market is expected to grow with significant rate in the near future.

The global wound dressing market in 2020 is estimated for more than US$ 7.0 Bn and expected to reach a value of US$ 14.5 Bn by 2028 with a significant CAGR of 9.6%.

Request a Sample Copy of this Report @: https://reportsandinsights.com/sample-request/1269

Wound Dressing Introduction

Wound healing is a progressive and convoluted process that asks for an appropriate environment to speed up the healing process. In the world of today, technology has advanced with the rapid pace that has resulted in more than 3000 products being manufactured to operate various types of wounds by aiming several different aspects of the healing process. Also, wounds, if not treated timely and properly, consist of a risk of wound infection which is a major safety concern for medical specialists as well as for patients.

Therefore, wound care is important in order to boost the healing process and avoid wound infection and thus, encourage the well-being of patients globally. During the recent years, wound dressings have witnessed huge demand in order to assist the progress of wound healing.

Basically, the wound dressing procedure alters the injured tissues and offers a moisturized environment for accurate cell migration thus turning out in minimum scar tissue composition. Also, the wound dressing are of different types ranging from antibacterial woven pads to growth factor in situ forming gels. Owing to which, the global wound dressing market is expected to grow significantly in the forecast period.

Wound Dressing Market Dynamics

One of the major factors which is projected to boost the growth of the global wound dressing market is the rising count of diabetic patients across the world, as the diabetic patients are at 30 times higher risk of having an amputation surgeries as compared to general population, which further creates demand for wound dressing in order to avoid wound infections and quicken the healing process of the patients.

By the same token, the constantly surging incidence of diseases such as diabetic ulcers, pressure ulcers, and venous stasis ulcers among the population is also projected to contribute to the growing demand of the wound dressing. Owing to which, the global wound dressing market is expected to elevate higher in the near future.

Along with that, the ever-increasing geriatric population across the world are also a major factor that may accelerate the growth of the global wound dressing market during the forecast timeframe as they are more vulnerable to surgeries and deep wounds, which calls for the wound dressing process. However, the high cost, lack of awareness and hesitant population in selection of novel treatments are few factors that are likely to hold back the growth of the global wound dressing market in the coming years.

MMC Overview on Wound Dressing Market Report

The non-identical approach of Reports and Insights stands with conceptual methods backed up with the data analysis. The novel market understanding approach makes up the standard of the assessment results that give better opportunity for the customers to put their effort.

A research report on the Wound Dressing market by Reports and Insights is an in-depth and extensive study of the market based on the necessary data crunching and statistical analysis. It provides a brief view of the dynamics flowing through the market, which includes the factors that supports market and the factors that are acting as impedance for the growth of the market.

Furthermore, the report includes the various trends and opportunities in the respective market in different regions for a better understanding of readers that helps to analyze the potential of the market.

Wish to Know More About the Study? Click here to get a Report Description: https://reportsandinsights.com/pressrelease/wound-dressing-market

Wound Dressing Market Segmentation

The wound dressing market is segmented on the basis of product type, application, end user, and region.

On Basis of Product Type

Advanced Wound Dressings

Foam Dressings

Hydrocolloids

Hydrofiber

Film Dressings

Alginates

Collagen Dressings

Hydrogels Dressings

Wound Contact Layers

Superabsorbent Dressings

Traditional Wound Dressings

Surgical Tapes

Anti-Infective Dressings

Dry Dressings

On Basis of Application

 Surgical Wounds

 Trauma Wounds

 Burns

 Diabetic Foot Ulcers

 Pressure Ulcers

 Venous Ulcers

On Basis of End User

 Inpatient Facilities

 Outpatient Facilities

On Basis of Region

 North America

 Latin America

 Europe

 Asia Pacific

 Middle East

 Africa

Wound Dressing Market Key Players

Some of the key participating players in wound dressing market are

Smith & Nephew plc

Acelity L.P.

Integra Lifesciences Corporation

Coloplast Corporation

3M Company

Organogenesis Inc.

ConvaTec Inc.

Hollister Wound Care

Mölnlycke Health Care AB

BSN Medical

To view Top Players, Segmentation and other Statistics of Wound Dressing Industry, Get Sample Report @: https://reportsandinsights.com/sample-request/1269

About Reports and Insights:

Reports and Insights is one of the leading market research companies which offers syndicate and consulting research around the globe. At Reports and Insights, we adhere to the client needs and regularly ponder to bring out more valuable and real outcomes for our customers. We are equipped with strategically enhanced group of researchers and analysts that redefines and stabilizes the business polarity in different categorical dimensions of the market.

Contact Us:

Neil Jonathan

1820 Avenue M, Brooklyn

NY 11230, United States

+1-(718) 312-8686

Find Us on LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/company/report-and-insights/

View Latest Market Updates At: https://marketsresearchanalytics.com

[iznsfw]

Ms. Kang Hyewon

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

9,122 words

Categories | femdom, mommy kink, degradation, angry sex, choking

Content warning | blackmail, degradation, Hyewon isn't so innocent here

Well, well, well, look who came back with Day 3.

My promise remains. Expect more, but on separate days. I won't run away with your money like a certain pre-

Thread isn’t claustrophobic. It slips through spaces not even your fingernail could pierce apart. Effortlessly, too. It isn’t afraid of being knotted up. It just needs guidance: a pinch to lead it through the eye and a pull to seam it through the hem. 

You wish you wielded the same fearlessness. It’s thinner and more fragile than you (highly debated) yet it’s hardened to its life. The only thing you’re granted as a similarity to it is the need for guidance, not all of that shit about courage. 

Maybe that’s why you became a fashion designer. 

Needles have their own strengths, too. They’re not cowards to inflicting pain for aesthetics. Why do you think they stab so effortlessly through fabric and silk and skin and whatnot? They sharpen themselves through softness, and all that edge goes straight into the process.

And sometimes, your fingers.

“Fuck.” Your reverie is broken at last. From your thumb, a trail of red leaks. You’re used to the minor cuts and wounds, but the blood really does something to you. It reminds you of how fragile human anatomy is. One uncalculated move can end it all. 

“You good?” asks Eunbi. 

Suck on your thumb. A metallic taste settles over your tongue. She peers at you curiously; wave your hand at her dismissively to tell her it’s fine. This is everyday for you, like you said. Your heart will pump anxiously but that goes away, too. It’s all a vestige of time.

Flatten the vest top on the table. Wait, it’s not exactly a top yet if fringes of thread splay from the edges. You still have to work on that. Nothing is something when it’s not completed. It’s either you finish it grandly or leave it in pathetic tatters. 

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just a little nervous,” you reply. 

“I mean,” Eunbi laughs as she fixes her short hair into a ponytail, “she is Kang Hyewon.”

Not that she needs to remind you. Your nerves are in a wreck already. You’ve been replaying the pros of the situation in your head like a favorite song. Working for Hyewon would look good in your resumés. If time sees fit, you’d have your own line and everyone would want to wear it. Your name could be a staple of fashion, the god of gods. Something like that.

It only sucks that you’re painfully new to this world. This is the first time you’re this far from your family and friends. Seoul’s a far cry from your humble town. It’s the home of everything that matters. Nights of staying up drawing and designing couldn’t harden you for an industry that sways and shakes out the unfit.

This is your chance to find out if you’re one of them.

“The superstar who’s about to wear my shitty clothes.”

“They’re anything but shitty. You have seriously good ideas.” Always, Eunbi comes in to reassure you. That’s why you see her as a mentor. “She wouldn’t turn down wearing couture if she didn’t see potential in what you make.”

See, you would never have agreed to any of this. You’re a fresh graduate from some fashion school, and the only models you’ve worked on are the runway rejects. Fixing a sloppy first draft on a stick-thin, soulless girl is different from designing and dressing up Kang Hyewon. 

She’s everything—model, actress, singer, and idol. She’s a gem for every brand out there. They’re all dying to get her to be their ambassador. Every director with a complete brain wants to cast her for their new drama. 

And it’s her who can lift you to heights in your career. So you’d be an idiot not to seal the deal.

“Have you worked with her before?”

As your needle sews a story of fabric, Eunbi’s words whittle her story with Hyewon. Turns out, this is only her second time working with the star. She confirms that Hyewon is truly gorgeous in person with those god-given full lips and hardset eyes. 

Apparently, first impressions are right after all when it’s with her—she’s a silent, withholding woman who doesn’t talk outside of necessity. Eunbi tells you her nerves were in knots the first time, but also informs you that as long as you do your job for her properly, there isn’t gonna be any problem.

“Just be careful in what you do and say,” Eunbi whispers. She peeks over at your nearly finished piece. “That’s turning out really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.” 

Look proudly at your handiwork. It’s a sleeveless top fashioned from denim, with a V-shaped curve at the stomach. You’ve attached strips of more denim on the front that are sewn on with threads that match the blue of the ocean, embedded into the chest to prevent dullness. You think it’s turning out pretty good, too.

You would’ve gone on smiling if it weren’t for what you remembered. “Wait, why do I have to be careful?”

“She’s not, like, shy or anything. Just really unfiltered when it comes to feedback. She told me the eyeliner I did on her was shit, and that I shouldn’t come back if I planned on doing that again.”

Doubts about the beauty of your design rise. It might look good in your eyes, but what if it doesn’t in hers? She’d probably see the lack of color and call it a monstrosity. She’s got the type of power to get away with brutal words, to leave your little self-confidence in pieces.

The leg-hugging jeans and vest now look painfully average to you. There’s no debating that she’d look good in it, but there’s that constant back-and-forth argument in your head about whether or not Hyewon would like it. 

“Were you hurt?” you ask.

Eunbi wipes red lipstick from the edges of her mouth with the mirror’s reflection as guidance, then smiles. “She’s the kind of woman I’d let do more than hurt me.”

-

You don’t know what that was about, but you’re not one to pry. You don’t have the time anyway.

Assistants have poured into the room. It’s your sign to put in more work—their arrival means that Hyewon is about to come very soon. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, the kind that looks good but not too good that it takes away the fact that they’re just staff. 

Eunbi shifts her weight from one stiletto to another. “Are you done?” she asks. She gazes over at your sewing as she taps anxious rhythms on the vanity table. Notice how she’s taken off her acrylics and in turn shows her cruelly bitten fingernails. 

You huff. “I’m trying.” 

Stick a red-studded pin through the denim to keep the vest in place. What shade of blue did you use again? Staring for lengthy minutes at your messy table doesn’t help you find it. Your chalks have left pink powder on the wood. Your threads are unspooled and everywhere. In the midst of it all, the star’s vest sits, still waiting to be finished. 

“She’s getting here in five!” Yena shouts.

“Any updates there?” Eunbi says pleadingly to you, eyes full of tears.

“I said I’m trying, Eunbi.”

“Then try harder, fuck!” 

Her hands have abandoned their rhythms and are squeezed up into tiny, helpless fists. She keeps peeking out of the dressing room as if she’d die on the spot if Hyewon were there already. This is the first time you’ve seen Eunbi this beside herself. Even her crew is shocked. Her fear infects them too and now all sets of scared eyes are on you. They’re depending on your speed for their careers. If you fall short, they fall short, too. It’s a domino effect of failure. 

Yena pushes aside the hangers of clothing to frisk for the makeup kit. Chaeyeon has her hands in her air while Minju whimpers behind her. They all know one thing for sure: you’re never gonna finish on time.

Your needle fits and slips, fits and slips, fits and slips—

“Can’t you go any faster?” cries out Eunbi.

The thread almost pulls the rest of the fabric along it when you pull furiously. “Unless you want me to get stabbed in the fucking wrist,” you say, “I can’t.”

You prick yourself multiple times trying to speed up. Push the layered denim down. It’s like drowning a needle, letting it go up from the waves of clothes for air, then drowning it again. However, you don’t care for any casualties right now. You don’t care for deaths either. All you want is to do is finish this piece.

You hear three short knocks on the door. Your world stops, but your sewing doesn’t. You can do this. You can still make it look somehow finished. 

“Ms. Kang!” 

Curl.

Thread. 

Knot.

You’re done. It’s safe to turn around.

All of the women along with Eunbi have bowed deeply. Standing in front of them is the straight-postured form of the adored celebrity. The assistants look like they’re an estranged cult of some sorts who’s worshiping a goddess who’s come to earth.

Strangely, you find out that, as you stare at Kang Hyewon, you understand.

You can now grasp the idea why she’s ventured into so many fields: she can do it all. She can be it all.

Her hair is as black as night, and so are her irises. Her expression tells you no background, not even of a troublesome drive or a good meal. No, not any of that, for Hyewon’s face is a serious little look of professionalism. It’s the kind people of her status wear—celebrated doctors, movie stars, activists. But for some reason, it looks so much hotter on her. 

It would take skilled mathematicians and scientists to find out what’s behind her neutral expression, but it doesn’t take a degree to know that she’s downright beautiful.

The pictures her dedicated fansites take of her truly don’t do justice to her attractiveness. Her face is smaller than a child’s. The nonchalant stare in her eyes makes her look out of this world, which could be said too for her preppy clothes. She’s a fashion icon for the younger generation after all.

A natural pair of plump lips doesn’t show a sign of a smile. Nevertheless, she’s a beautiful woman. You assume that it’s how it is for her everyday, just like drawing is your daily routine.

“Hello.” Hyewon’s voice is surprisingly feminine yet husky. She looks at you all indifferently, then places her bag on a nearby chair. Each action of hers is minimal and measured.

“Would you like to get dressed, Ms. Kang?” asks Eunbi, her voice a pitch too high.

She nods.

You hand over the jeans and shirt. Make a beeline for the exit. There’s a reason why an all-female staff was hired for Hyewon. You were taught in school that you best not dress them up directly if they’re a celebrity and you aren’t known in the industry yet. There’s all the reason to fear: hidden cameras and microphones, leaked footage, the like. While you’re not a man whose intentions are dark, you still follow protocol.

“What are you running away for?” 

Your shoes stop paving the way to the door. Was that Hyewon? “What?” you say.

Eunbi winces. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. You don’t state that in that tone to a woman of that class.

Hyewon sighs audibly. “Can you look me in the eyes when I talk to you?”

You’re cold yet trepidation prickles your skin like fire. Slowly, almost comically, turn around. Her coat is off, leaving her in a skirt and a sleeveless undershirt on which she’s crossed her arms above. So how can you look at her directly? That body of hers is shockingly easy on the eyes.

“You’re the fashion designer, right?” she asks. 

Smile awkwardly. “I, uh—”

“Then why are you leaving? Come over here and help me. I want to see if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m, a little, uh, actually—”

“You’re actually what?”

Your mouth’s dry. Eunbi and her crew look too scared to remind her that you’re an amateur. You haven’t dressed up a star and you definitely aren’t a professional. 

But what can you do? Look at her—a woman who could crumble your career into shards if she said so and blacklist you from the industry forever—and tell her no? 

So, you approach.

Is it a blessing that you’re granted the honors of removing her underclothes? Or a curse? 

As you undress her, you’re given the affirmation that her body is more than easy on the eyes. It’s fucking to die for. Her waist isn’t concerningly tiny, but shows a defined curve that elevates to her torso. Her breasts are large for her frame, barely fitting the size of her lace bra.

“Woah, what are you doing?” you say, eyes wide at Eunbi suddenly unclasping said bra. You feel like a Victorian man catching sight of ankles.

Eunbi looks confused. “Didn’t you say a bra would ruin the look? And that we should use nipple tape?”

Hyewon stares at her, then looks at you, waiting for an answer. 

“Oh, right.” You chuckle tensely. “Sorry.”

Your lips are pursed to keep you from hissing in embarrassment. Now you probably look like a creep. Your fright and wariness are taking control, and you have no idea what to do. 

You conveniently close your eyes when the bra’s taken off. Take the vest from Yena and raise it above Hyewon’s head. No matter what, you’ll keep your eyes up. Not below, where her breasts are sure to catch you off guard; not to the side, where they might be assuming you’re everything bad; but up. Nowhere else.

“It looks beautiful on you.” Minju’s smile is less nervous now that the job is done. 

Her remark is nothing short of the truth. The garment slips onto Hyewon’s body like water. The defined carve of her clavicle stands out above the conservative neckline. Still, her bare arms alone will already have people thinking of something. The jeans accentuate her slim long legs elevated by a pair of expensive heels. She doesn’t need makeup to look good in what you sewed for her. Her body and face do the job. 

Hyewon doesn't respond to the compliment. She simply sits down on the swivel makeup chair, crosses her legs, and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs twiddle with a game you’ve seen her advertise before. She’s true to her endorsements.

Minju carefully fills the brims of her eyelids with sharp cat eyeliner. Hyewon still doesn’t look up from her phone. You guess she’s used to people adapting to her and not the other way around. 

You like the touch of the fierce red lipstick Eunbi applies on her later on. It’s a bold statement, something that goes like: It’s me, Kang Hyewon; this is the face of a woman who can destroy you, and I promise that you’ll love it.

“You look great, Ms. Kang,” Eunbi compliments her cheerfully, clicking the lipstick back.

Hyewon stares at herself in the mirror. She’s a silent observer, taking in her reflection and studying it closely. 

A lunar eclipse personified, a smile stretches on her lips that releases your held breaths. “I know.”

-

Mirrors lined with shining diamonds. Words that spell the house of fashion emblazoned in lights. Expensive makeup behind glass. Bags that are worth your tuition sitting on displayed pedestals as if they didn’t know their own worth. The event is a never-ending sea of vanity for the wealthy and the west. You can’t believe you’re playing a part in it, although you’re a sheep among well-dressed wolves.

Crowds of reporters and photographers wait at the main hall. There’s no questioning who they’re here for. Although Jang is undoubtedly a big name, so is Hyewon. They were right to recruit her. You’ve never seen a crowd this big, even for fashion. You wonder how much they paid her to be the ambassador. Must be millions when all the other houses are dying to have her. She doesn’t look like one who kindly allows lowballing.

Neither does this man. He’s grand in his custom Victoria Jang and shoes that have the glimmer of stars themselves as he stands at the center. He must be the MC; he has a name tag to his breast pocket and a mic in his fist.

“Dude, did you know Anya Taylor-Joy’s gonna be here?” Rafael tells you.

“The chick from that cool chess movie?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He gestures to the small screen that shows her holding a lipstick to her jaw. It would be hard to see it behind the scrambling reporters. Luckily, as the designer, you scored a nearby spot backstage. “Jennie, too!”

The two are gorgeous, but you’re honestly more interested in Hyewon. If people see she’s wearing your clothes, they’d want to hire you, too. She doesn’t follow the trend; she is the trend. Soon, you’ll see Korea filled with women wearing the same shirt, the same jeans, the same style…

“We’re proud to present Jang’s first store in Korea,” says the MC. Yep, you were right. “This is a monumental stepping stone for our founder, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Please welcome her with a hearty applause!”

You know all about Jang Wonyoung. She’s a self-made woman whose passion for beauty got the attention of the public, especially the western world. She’s always busy despite her tender age of nineteen: performing onstage with her group IVE, traveling, founding a new school in meager areas. She’s almost at the same level as Hyewon in terms of stardom.

Wonyoung comes out from the background, dressed fashionably as always. A polite smile decorates her glossed lips. It’s caught by the flashes of cameras and the reporters’ cheers. 

“Hello, thank you for coming.” She brushes back her fringe and folds her hands. “Opening a branch here in my home is an achievement I’m forever grateful for. I would like to thank you all greatly for the success it’s brought about.

“Please,” she says, “take the time to immerse yourself in our array of products. Try a new trendy look with Jang Beauty—”

She extends an arm to the variety of products protected under firm glass. There’s powder, eyeliner, and blush. Actually, there’s a little of everything. There’s colors fit for every complexion, dark or light, and a palette of rainbows. 

“—or flaunt your own style with our new arrival bags and purses.”

See, they’re the bags which immediately give the impression of expensiveness. The accessories are reserved to warm or light hues accompanied with Wonyoung’s signature rabbit logo. One even features her signature, stylishly drawn on quality canvas.

“Our helpful staff are here to answer your questions and assist you, but for now, please meet our muses.”

The camera shutters multiply when Kim Jennie enters the frame. Another “it” girl, she’s from a globally loved K-pop group whose influence couldn’t be denied even by the worst liars. She made all the buzz for Jang when a news article that quoted Wonyoung’s adoration for her was released. As expected, social media received the news happily. They made parallels with Wonyoung and Jennie, created fan accounts, and bought from Jang, even if the house initially opened in the United States.

Wonyoung’s smile is wide. You think you see a little of yourself in her. There’s certain pride in seeing someone loved and adored wearing your design. 

Jennie waves briefly to the crowd before settling in a poised stride stage left.

Anya Taylor-Joy comes in next. Rafael makes a joke about how the press would have a difficult time trying to translate her name into Hangul characters correctly. She answers a question from the crowd sweetly with a translator’s help, and stands a yard from Jennie. Seeing the two women side by side stuns you—Jang really did emphasize how there’s beauty in everything and everyone, including those from different sides of the world. 

“And finally, we would like to present Jang’s new ambassador.” Wonyoung’s beaming positively. “Welcome to Jang, Kang Hyewon!”

Suppressed screams fill your ears. The women at the mall can’t believe a friendly outing to the mall grabbed them a chance to see her in person. She’s the kind of girl who’s everywhere, and still manages to make you look. To make you want to be her or be with her. Perhaps those two at the same time?

You stare at her. Hyewon is flawless. Her slight tan is a nice break from the whiteness of the cameras. Her eyes seem to single out everybody in the crowd. The ambassador stands next to Wonyoung, a hand on her own hip, and lets a slight Mona Lisa smile paint her face.

Perfection.

How does she do so little but still attract everyone? You’re not an exception. You find yourself forgetting that you made those clothes—she owns them now. They’ll be associated with her name and not yours. 

Do you even have a problem with that?

“Jang’s vision is to highlight beauty in everyone,” Wonyoung says. “Ms. Kang Hyewon is the perfect ambassador. She is an idol, singer, dancer, model, muse, and everything you can think of. She is the personification of beauty and versatility. We are proud to have her.”

You would be, too.

You were here to make a name for yourself, not fanboy over her. Here you are anyway doing it. 

Hyewon stands next to Wonyoung and nods humbly. “I’m honored to be named the ambassador for Jang.” She bows deeply. Her hands are together on her stomach. “Please expect more from us because we will deliver.”

Perhaps that’s a statement bolder than the red painted on her lips.

“To the name of beauty!” a reporter raises a glass and chugs it. You don’t know where that came from, but it draws collective giggles. 

Wonyoung laughs. “To the name of beauty!”

Hyewon jokingly raises an imaginary shot high in the air. The simplest actions don’t bar her from being beautiful. Just look at how her hair falls perfectly over gorgeous shoulders, how her hips stick out at the sides of the jeans—

How the sound of fabric ripping loudly stuns the crowd.

Your eyes go wide. The left strap of her top has torn apart. The two aidless halves collapse on the sides uselessly. The attire sags from the front and leaks the view of one of her breasts. Maybe they should have told her to keep the bra on—her left tit with nothing but nipple tape on is painfully shown off to hundreds of people. 

Hyewon’s eyes fill with alarm. All confidence is lost as she tries to cover her exposed breast up. But the deed is done. Worse, the flashes don’t stop. The photos will soon take to the internet and, regardless of her power to bend things to their will, can never truly be eradicated. The articles will go viral, too. No one will forget this moment of Kang Hyewon finally showing vulnerability.

“Ms. Kang—” Wonyoung says in a thin voice. She didn’t imagine this special day would take a drastic turn. She awkwardly laughs, because what else can she do? As rich as she is, she can’t pay a crazed scientist to implement a memory-erasing chip in these people’s brains. The event is officially ruined.

And it’s all your fault. 

Still, she generously steps in front of Hyewon to help. Similar to every attempt to salvage her dignity, it’s useless. The ambassador she relied so much on is already walking away. She’s leaving everything behind and won’t look back. Tonight is a night of many firsts, and right now, this is her first time retreating.

Aside from the sounds of phones and camcorders, all that’s left to hear is the furious clicking of Hyewon’s heels. Her strides are short and quick.

One step, five steps, ten steps… then thirteen.

It takes a total of thirteen steps for Hyewon to exit and come to you.

You couldn’t be an unluckier dead man.

-

Hyewon is the grim reaper. She wields fury instead of a scythe, wears now defective clothes instead of a dark cloak. The imminent loss of life is frightening regardless of being faced with a pretty woman. Anyone would get on their knees and resort to the unthinkable to experience this with the celebrity right now. So why are you as cold as a corpse?

“You.” 

One word is enough to make you want to die early.

You look forward while your steps go backward. Your feet can pave the longest reversed path and you’d still be left with no escape. Hyewon is faster than you are. The rest of the staff are in the crowd or in another room; they can’t help you. Nobody can tell her to stop. 

You doubt she’d listen anyway, and you know because you’re looking in her face: the face of death. Gone is the blasé mood surrounding her, the mystery in her that people would pray rosaries to venerate. What’s taken its place is an Ares-born wrath that’s at odds with her Aphrodite visuals. Her eyes are large with anger and short angry rasps leave her mouth. 

“Ms. Kang,” you say, your words a mute plea. “Really, I apologize—” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Hyewon’s forearm knocks into your neck and catapults you to the dressing room door. The wood gives way, much to your horror. You barely make it on the plush chair with how your feet struggle to keep upright. 

She looms over you hauntingly, tall in her black heels. It’s a reminder that she really is above you in everything: positions, status, wealth—

Intimacy? 

Why is she straddling you? You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, much more where to look. Adding to her center literally being seated above your crotch, she didn’t even bother to fix her wardrobe malfunction. There’s no might left in you when her fingers curl into your collar and tighten it up to your neck. 

“You little shit.” She coils the fabric around your throat harder. Wracked coughs fight their way out of you. “An incompetent one, too. This is all your fault.”

Her voice is rougher when she’s angry. It’s like she has a switch that she clicks on and off to be what she has to be: the Kang Hyewon everyone idolizes; and the one people would be afraid of. It doesn’t take a wicked guess to figure which one you’re encountering now.

“Ms. Kang,” you say weakly, “please.” 

You inhale raggedly through your nose. Hate how comforting her expensive perfume is to your senses when she’s doing everything but making you at ease. Hate how attractive she is. Hate how you ruined the day that was supposed to change your life forever. Hate how a small part of you doesn't hate being under her. 

For others to understand you, they need to put themselves in your shoes. If an A-list star who’s as gorgeous as Hyewon was snugly seated on their lap, wouldn’t they feel the same? Wouldn’t they feel the stir in their pants, the heat in their chests?

You’re fucked in the head. But she is, too. You’re a match made in the depths of hell.

“I-I can explain.”

Your pulse beats beneath her palm. Its faltering rhythm brings cruel satisfaction to her, making her face spread into a wicked smile. 

As Hyewon’s almond eyes close into tyrannizing slits and her lips pull at the ends into a closed smirk, you realize why she rarely grins. You’re fucking terrified. It’s a simper reserved for little satisfaction and great anger. How can a woman be this beautiful yet this cruel?

“Explain then,” she allows. The ampleness of her lips has little distance to your mouth. “But if you think for one second I’m letting you go, you’re as dead as your career.”

Your career never started. You were young once. You had dreams of making yourself known and making your family proud. If today never happened, if your needle seamed the thread just a bit tighter, you still would have had a chance to go on. 

Now you’re neither young nor old, with neither a future or past.

Your dreams are broken, just like her clothes.

“Please, Ms. Kang. I was in a rush. I didn’t think it would undo like that.”

She laughs. It’s another rare occurrence that scares the shit out of you. It transforms into a sarcastic little scoff when she meets your eyes again. “I gave you days. I gave you a fucking chance to prove your worth when I could’ve hired any dickhead out there. And what did you do? You screwed it up.” 

With each word she spits, your collar wrings around you more compactly. You feel hot and breathless but to Hyewon, your skin is deadly cold to the touch. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let up.

“I’ll pay for the damage,” you offer bleakly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll admit that I was wrong to… hahk, to the media.  Just please don’t blacklist me.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t enough.”

It isn’t? What could you do? You’ve already said you’ll pay more than you can to amend. You told her you’d go to the press and bare your wrongdoings. What else does she want? She already has everything.

“You wanted to see me naked, didn't you?” Hyewon snarls. “You planned it all out.” 

You choke, and it’s not because of her hands digging into your flesh. “N-no! I swear—”

In the olden days, prophecies were told by an oracle. People would go on quests and seal their fates in accordance with them. Now, they’re in the little things, like jokes that suddenly bleed into reality, and, in your case, deja vu.

You say deja vu because you know the sound of ripping fabric all too well. 

It interrupts your words and catches you by surprise. Hyewon has wrenched apart the buttons of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your underwear peeks out above your pants, as well as the stomach you haven’t taken the time to tone in a while.

“There,” she says. She slinks down your lap till her knees touch the floor and she’s tearing your pants, too. More buttons are sent flying in the air. “Now we’re both naked. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get to say that you fucked Kang Hyewon?”

Your pants add to the pile of clothes and buttons on the ground. You can’t even blush or protest; Hyewon is unstoppable when she’s angry. Her soft hands, unlearned in the ways of hardship, somehow have the strength to cut and slice and pull at your clothing. She’s not leaving one speck of fabric on for modesty. 

“I, I don’t want to fu– to have sex with you, Ms. Kang.” 

“Baby.” Hyewon deadpans, laughing a little as she traces the curve of your cheek. “Everyone wants to fuck me.”

She takes off her shirt and tears off the nipple tapes. Her pretty brown nipples are uncovered, and you can’t stop staring. Her body is a model of perfection in every category. You’ve got her flat tummy, curved waist, wide hips, and breasts that really should have a warning sign lest you harm yourself looking at them. Unfortunately, they don’t have a warning label, and Hyewon catches your wandering eyes.

“Fucking pervert.”

You look away, but there’s nowhere else to stare, so you say, “No, please, I didn’t… no, I didn’t—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“That’s not how you say it.” Hyewon suddenly wraps her hand around your stiffening cock. Her squeeze is painful. “You sit there, bow your head, and say: ‘Sorry, mommy.’”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?” 

You yowl when she squeezes harder and starts to pump you to full mast. It’s a painful pleasure, a guilty danger. Hyewon’s eyes trained on you are even more so. 

“You heard me. If you want to save your career, do as I say.”

You whimper into the eerie silence as the woman curls her fist around your member as if she were choking it. How did you land into this situation? How were you so fucking stupid that you thought a week would be enough to finish the piece?

Now you’re here, in this enclosed dressing room, with a celebrity cruelly torturing your penis and demanding that you call her mommy. Look to the right then to the left and see that no one’s coming to your rescue. This is the real world, and as absurd as it is, you’re on your own.

Hyewon’s fingernails threaten to pierce the sensitive skin. “Be a good boy,” she growls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mommy.” 

(You mean it, you mean it, you mean it.)

“That wasn’t so hard. But I’m not done with you just yet.” 

She leans forward. Your face twists while she wraps her soft tits around you. Her cleavage is so deep, so full that your length is completely lost in it. You moan embarrassingly, and it’s too late to cover your mouth when she’s already smirking. 

“Because you wanted to see my tits so bad,” she says, rubbing her tits in opposite directions on your member, “I’m gonna fuck you with them. I don’t care if you cum like a little bitch or not; I’m not stopping.”

You’re starting to leak. Hyewon’s sweat combined with your precum lubricates you and allows for more delicious, slippery friction. She pushes herself up and down repeatedly, continuously trapping your cock between her amazing boobs. She could do this forever. On the other hand, you’re close to losing it.

“I’m not gonna stop. You brought this upon yourself. You understand me, don’t you?” 

“Yes.”

A deserved silence. Her eyes speak of an immediate death that follows a wrong answer.

Close your eyes. You know what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, mommy.”

Strangely, she’s exactly the type of woman who deserves that title. Her stony expression doesn’t evaporate from that beautiful face although sweat’s started to roll down it from how mercilessly she titfucks you. She shows no signs of sympathy for your situation. Why would she when she’s accustomed to control, and you’ve just taken that from her? You took her control from the people who’ve made her famous. This is your punishment.

Each pleasured expression you make draws a haughty smile from her. It’s as inspiring as critical acclaim to her, for she cups her tits tighter around your shaft and pumps away. You’re her toy for tonight. If she can’t regain her control over the public, she’ll show you why she deserves to have it:

One, she’s tireless. 

Her lower lip is under her teeth as she spills effort into persecuting your cock. She’s unblinking—she’s too focused on your reactions to close her eyes. It’s not like she’d care if your reaction is violent or pained or good. Hyewon would still go on fucking you.

“Of course you like this.” Spit covers your cockhead, a sign of her distaste. “You perverted virgins are all the same.”

“I’m not perverted, mommy.” 

“What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m, n-not a vir—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She continues grinding her pillowy breasts on you. Their undersides touch your balls while her nipples brush against your stomach. Whatever move she does makes you shiver. 

If you had no escape from the enigma that is Kang Hyewon, neither did your cock. Her bust makes sure of that. It surrounds it as if determined to suffocate an ejaculation out of it. The precum from your tip just isn’t enough.

Two, she doesn’t rely on anybody.

Nobody told her to fuck you. Nobody told her to strip and use you. Those are the choices she made by herself, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t perform them with dedication. She doesn’t need anybody’s help in ruining you when she can do it herself.

So she does. Hyewon sinfully lets saliva drip from her chin and onto her chest to help speed up what’s already a vicious pace. The cold drool makes you hiss. Her warm breasts are both a reprieve and retribution. They carry out soft comfort but give out your quick punishment at the same time. It’s funny to think how they’re as versatile as she is. 

Three, she’s the only one who’s ever made you cum like this.

“Mommy!” The word was never intended to be said. But it’s unavoidable; Hyewon’s too hasty, and it’s becoming too much. You can’t hold back on letting her know her ownership of you.

You can’t hold back the messiness of your cum as well. Bursts of white jet her chest and her neck. You whimper to your wits’ end and she doesn’t stop in spite of it. She keeps overstimulating you till the leak of semen becomes a mere dribble.

Hyewon climbs on your lap again, her vagina placed just in front of your spent shaft. “You’re getting used to it, huh?”

Your eyes are on her, as everyone else’s are when she’s under the lens of a camera. You’re horrified; almost every part of her torso is covered with your cum. Her tits are coated grandly with strong splashes. The white liquid drools down her tummy, then to her jeans.

You just came on Kang Hyewon.

Push her away, cursing quietly. You’ve no reputation left to save now. No dignity, no image, nothing. You should have fought back. A junior stylist shouldn’t be getting intimate with a superstar. 

“Ms. Kang, I should go,” you stammer. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

None of this was supposed to happen. You wish you could have turned back time and stopped yourself from going to fashion school. If you didn’t go, you wouldn’t have gone on the path of designing and wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to design for her and Jang. It’s all so fucked up that you’re actually reconsidering religion.

Hyewon considers this. To your relief, her professional tone returns. You’re able to breathe now. It’s over.

“You’re not gonna help me clean up?” she says finally.

“Oh… yes, I’m sorry.”

There’s no tissues or washcloths around. You have to be resourceful. It’s painful wiping up something so inappropriate with the shirt you designed, but it’ll do. The semen embeds into the denim during your dutiful clean-up. It’s humiliating—the only thing that comforts you is that, after this, you and Hyewon will part ways and never speak again. You both have something to hold over the other. Keeping your mouths shut will keep you safer than sorrier.

More worries surface. Did someone hear or see you? Are there hidden cameras here? You’ll have to inspect the place, especially after you think you don’t remember Hyewon locking the door.

“Thank you.” Hyewon crosses her arms and looks down at the stained vest that started all of this. “Now suck your cum out of it.”

You want to cry. This is far from over. You’re not done here, and you won’t be until she says so.

She cocks her head. “I paid for it, and I don’t want flaws,” she says matter-of-factly. “So you either suck your filth out now or I might just drop the Somun magazine editor a visit.”

Stare at her with tear-filled eyes. What can you do?

Attach your lips to the blemished denim. Suck on it forcefully. The taste brings more tears and some even slide in pathetic drops down your face. How did it all come to this? The amount of hard work you put in school surely did not earn you this, right?

You were raised too soft. Maybe hanging out with the rebellious boys back in elementary would have saved you her domination. You could have negotiated with her, maybe even argued that you weren’t allowing this to happen to you. But those happen in parallel universes, where you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. Here, you’re just a man who’s not particularly excellent. 

“Good job,” Hyewon says. “I guess you’re not that much of a lost cause.”

Her backhanded praise is sweet to your ears rather than mocking.

She clicks her tongue. “All that cum should have went in my pussy, you know.” 

You hang your head to hide your blush. You’re glad thoughts aren’t visually presented. Otherwise, Hyewon would put you down further. 

Hyewon places a finger below your chin and tilts it up. You’re forced to meet her eyes. There comes all the hate again. It pours into your heart freely like a fountain. It’s not hate for her, but for yourself. If you didn’t crumple that easily for women like Hyewon—women who like control and give orders and get a kick out of humiliating other people—maybe a whole other fate would have been in store for you.

Fright always gives way to yearning. She’s a bitch who thinks too highly of herself, although understandably so. She hurt you so much and through it all, you still want to hear her praise you.

She smiles. 

Yep, Kang Hyewon is irredeemably, irrevocably evil.

“And you owe me a whole lot of it,” she says, and adds, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “baby boy.”

No horror film can scare you like she does. She’s a phantom of beauty and power who will haunt you forever. All this could be done and you’d still think about her. You’ve become another one of Hyewon’s fanatics who allows her to do anything and everything to them. 

Hyewon shoves you on the dressing table. The cold white surface cools your skin, but you know it’s about to get heated soon. She’s spanned her legs over your hips again. Her aggressive hands grip your shoulders. Somehow, you never want them to leave your touch. 

Then you’re kissing her. The other way around, you mean—Hyewon initiates it by closing the distance and biting your lip. She’s a starved kisser who devours you like a wolf. Her tongue curls around yours and she dives in deeper. You’re deprived of any breath, any source of oxygen. Part your lips to kiss her back, but she’s already locked her mouth on them.

Hyewon sweeps her hair back, readying herself for the final act. If mirrors could blush, you have no question that they would upon seeing her. Attractiveness is a natural thing to her—you can see it in the sway of her arms, the thickness of her thighs, and the way she carries herself. She acts like she’s entitled to everything, and that includes your cock.

She’s too fucking hot that you’d ignore all her cons and give it up to her.

She knows that. She circles her core around your tip. You moan immediately. She feels so good, and you’re not even inside her yet. 

“You like that?” she sneers after she pulls away. “You like my pussy on your cock?”

She grinds her slit along your cockhead. Her moans are surprisingly sensitive, high in pitch and airy. You’re granted exclusive listening to them when you hit her clit. She moves it there particularly, because those moaned questions she asked you are just for her own ego. She only cares for her own pleasure, and it just so happens to be ignited by a weak man whose type is crazy, unhinged women. Whose type just so happens to be her.

She’s so wet that sounds of drenched squeaks fill your ears. You’re nothing else except certain that she really, really gets off on being such a bitch. Her wicked leer couldn’t ever fade from her face, not if you keep flashing those exhausted needy expressions.

“Answer me,” Hyewon says. She glides her fingertips from your broad shoulders to your neck. A threatening grip, a deadly fate. “You know mommy doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Do you want me to ride your cock, hm?” Every fragment she speaks makes her choke you harder. She’ll send you to heaven then hell, where you’ll meet her all over again. “Do you want me to keep you inside me until I’m all done and satisfied?”

“Yes… oh fuck, please!”

“I fucking thought so.”

She sinks herself down in one go. You cry out. Hyewon’s tight pussy welcomes you and traps you right up to the hilt. The hard grip of her cunt disallows you a break; her pace is one of anger that’s unrelenting and harsh. 

Her thighs crash down on your lap and rise, a cycle that never ends. You’re left even more breathless by her soft breasts smothering you. It’s the best way to go out. They bounce marvelously in front of your face, your nose pressed to the little space between them and your mouth kissing wherever it can. You lick at her tits until you’ve licked all the cum that might have remained on them. 

Your lips attach themselves to her nipple. As an effect, the star’s cunt clamps around you with the hold of a guilty pleasure, a taboo vice. It doesn’t intend on letting go unless you decide you want it to go. But you have the feeling that your probable pleas won’t budge Hyewon’s heart. 

“Mommy’s baby boy,” Hyewon says. Her tightness grows and so does the volume of her heavy gasps. “Mommy’s slutty baby boy who’d do anything to get this pussy.”

You want to tell her that what she said is far from the truth. You didn’t want to cause a wardrobe malfunction. You didn’t want to anger her. But now, when presented with the heat of her impossibly wet vagina, you realize you actually would. You try to meet her expectations, nursing on her nipple and guiding her movements with your hands on her wide hips. What you want is for this to be enough, but it just isn’t. Hyewon always wants more.

You can see it in the crash of her butt on your thighs, the shouty cries that she lets go of, the grip on your neck that she doesn’t. A woman accustomed to the scrutiny of the public eye would never let a strand of her hair go knotted. But when it comes to punishing people, to making them the accessory she carries, she doesn’t care anymore. Her usually prepared and counted movements become frantic. Her quietness isn't a  case of the current times when she’s using you as her little fucktoy. 

Kang Hyewon is a mess, and you are, too.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your yells crack and fade—she doesn’t.

Hyewon doesn’t let up. Her fluttering walls make sure to leave your legs stagnant. You can feel her manicured nails scrape your skin and her thin legs hug your hips. The hours she spends in the gym can’t be that long for her stamina to remain this strong. Maybe she has a personal trainer, a healthy diet. Maybe she owns some weights around the house.

Maybe she owns you.

“You sound pathetic. Just keep sucking those tits.” She removes her hand from the base of your neck, but leaves you asphyxiated anyway when she pushes her face into her breasts. 

The mirror bears your combined weight. You try to lift your head. Hyewon chases your movements. You’re forced to inhale through your nostrils, taking in her powdery perfume and lightly sweaty scent, and keep your mouth busy on her boobs. 

You flick her nipple with your tongue. She holds you to her chest and promises no escape. To be fair, you could stay here, smothered by her breasts forever. You’d have little complaint when they’re heavy and soft and sweaty. Your mouth stays attached to them and brings her on the road to orgasm.

“Greedy little boy,” Hyewon scoffs. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I bet you held it out just so I could keep riding you.”

Your cock feels sore already. Although her insides are warm and soaked enough for the entering and leaving to be slick, you’ve been trying to hold back for so long you think you’ll cry. You have to tell her. Perhaps it’ll lessen her anger. 

“I’m gonna cum, please, mommy.”

She cruelly bounces faster. Her hips are that of a veteran dancer’s, grinding to and fro and rotating. You’ve figured it out: the reason why she’s never had a dating scandal is that no man would be able to handle her. She’d drain him nightly. She’d treat him like a sex toy to use when she pleases. Everyone wants to be hers, but no one is ready for her.

“Do you deserve to cum inside this perfect pussy?” she asks. She splays her lips and grinds upwards. You groan loudly. “You’re lucky if I even spit on you. What makes you think you can explode in mommy?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” You tighten your core to hold it back. It’s useless. Your orgasm is coming anytime now, and Hyewon won’t let it happen. “Mommy, let me cum, mommy, please!”

She slaps you across the face. Why did the sting turn you on? You’d argue her words sting more. “You made me look like a cheap slut out there!” Hyewon shouts. “I gave you a chance and you ruined it, you little shit. So now you have to earn your fucking worth!” 

Her riding becomes intense by the minute. She was angry earlier, and now she’s furious. You’re her canvas for a fuming painting. But in her eyes, you’re not a masterpiece. She’ll do away with you to the point of destruction. You’re very near to crumbling.

“I’ll do anything, please!”

You’re desperate. Your stomach’s starting to ache from the violence. You can’t quite feel your legs. All you feel is an impending heat that squeezes your insides. Your hips jerk needily and tears fall from your face. This is the first time you’ve felt this humiliated and aroused. Something about Hyewon makes the two emotions merge and leaves you wanting more.

Hyewon’s close to cumming, too. She’s shaking as her chaotic bounces are sloppier than before. “Say it, say you’re my little boy toy! Say you’re a slut for mommy!”

You’re a quivering body beneath the celebrity. You’re letting her use your cock and choke you and slap you, all without repercussions. There’s only one kind of man that would let someone do that to them. You can’t believe you’ve become one.

“Yes, yes, mommy owns my cock!” you scream, nodding over and over. “I’m her toy and she can do w-whatever she wants to me, I won’t mind!” 

Her juices roll down your cock and wet your pubic area. She’s spiraling out of control. The only thing she can control is you, making you say the most humiliating things. Her wild eyes lock onto yours, and through them you could finally see some backstory: Kang Hyewon was born into wealth and control, and she’ll die with them, too. She’ll always fight to have them when they’re taken away from her. She isn’t afraid to cross limits.

“Yes, yes, yes! More!”

“I only want mommy’s pussy even if I don’t deserve it! I only do what she says, I’ll give up everything to be mommy’s plaything, please!”

When she cums, she looks frenzied, shaking all over the place and spasming around you. Her cries of pleasure become erratic. They almost sound not human. A human would not dare do what she does to you. She fucks you like an animal, frightens you like a supernatural phenomenon, and moves like the waves of the sea.

Kang Hyewon is out of this world. You’re an unnamed rock floating in the galaxy she navigates.

You bust just the second she removes herself from you. Abashing strings of sticky whiteness land all over yourself. They’re paired with needy groans that you can’t stop even if you wanted to. 

Hyewon observes your ejaculation unamusedly. She takes a step backward when a jet of cum sprays in her direction. Look down at yourself—look down at your lap and the table blotted with your orgasm—and think of how dirty you are. You’re so dirty and pitiable that you came all over yourself, like you just masturbated in front of her. That’s why she doesn’t want to touch you.

“Y-you didn’t let me cum inside,” you say disappointedly. You did everything, said everything, and risked everything for nothing. An orgasm isn’t worth it when it isn’t done inside Hyewon.

“Like I said,” Hyewon replies, apathetic, “you don’t deserve it.”

Stare at her. It’s through staring at her with surprise that you realize you’re dirty on the inside, too. Hyewon can live her life secludedly and fade from the industry. She can leave this country, reinvent herself, marry somewhere, and you’d still be thinking about her. You’d always think of this night that left her appearance and yourself ruined.

That’s her charm. She’s permanently going to be in your mind—you’ll always picture her wet cunt, her alluring breasts, her beautiful face. You’ll strive for her again and again while she doesn't even care if you live or die.

Women like her… why do they have to be who you want?

“You have no future in this industry,” she continues. 

She pulls her jeans up her legs and slips the button through the hole. Oh, you really will remember this night. You see you and Hyewon in the little things. She searches through the closet for a spare shirt. Watch her slim fingers that previously wrapped like ribbons around your throat now wrap around a hanger. She slips her arms through the tweed coat and seals it around the front.

“But your drawings aren’t… horrible,” she says. That’s the best compliment you can get from her. You know not to expect more. She shrugs as she closes the buttons together. “Maybe you’ll end up as a painter.” 

A painter? You’re a fashion designer, not Van Gogh. Dresses and pants are your forte. You can’t switch to a whole new job when sewing is what you know.

Your heart sinks. You really broke the first step to a career you worked your whole life for. It’s just not your path to take anymore. 

Hyewon looks around for something to write with. She settles for the eye pencil lying on a table. She forces you to open your palm and writes something on it. She closes your fingers above it.

“There you go. Consider this a farewell gift.”

She came into your life fast and she exits it just as fast. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of yearning. After all she’s done, you don’t want her to go. Why do you despise her departure when you prayed for it earlier?

Who would take you now?

You sigh. Peek at your hand curiously. In tidy handwriting, Hyewon’s message says:

KIM MINJU - CURATOR

XXX - XXX - 2001

[tylertoon2]

Things I would do over the coming months in preparation for the next trump presidency that could actually make a difference in your life and are actually attainable.

Have access to Birth Control: for you or for your family members that might be using them. It is likely abortion access is going to be seriously limited and it's even possible they will ban Birth Control Pills nationwide.

Take a First Aid course: especially if you are planning to protest, attend large events of any kind, or have a public facing job. Knowing how to apply a tourniquet and dress a gun/stab wound can and does save lives far more often than using a firearm.

Have an Updated Passport: I am not advocating moving unless absolutely necessary it is not a thing to be done lightly but if you have no other choice you must make sure you have solid up to date documents.

Know your Neighbors: goes with the IRL community piece. This applies to life generally. But know who physically is closest to you, they can be a great asset or a potential threat. Do you live next to a cop? Do you live next to a sweet old grandma? Do you live next to someone who might hurt you walking home from work if they get the chance? These things don't matter until they do. Do remember It can also apply positively, if the power goes out or a natural disaster happens or a mob threatens you, would that person let you in or keep you out?

Know where your food and water comes from: it is likely regulations are basically going to go to nothing in the coming years. Food and Water quality will, especially in rural areas, in all likelyhood will decrease drastically. Be cautious when purchasing food and keep an ear out on what's going on with local water. If you have well water, keep in mind if you live near an industrial or commercial agriculture area that protections are likely to be severely loosened.

If you don't have a garden start one, if you don't have room or don't know how to, look into community gardens (that's my next step)

If you don't live in the U.S: this still affects you. The Right is surging worldwide and Trump's image and tactics are being copied. Be active in your local politics and don't make the same mistakes we did.

Take a Break and Have Hope: This again is general life advice. But ffs take a break from all media when you need to. No one is going to save us but ourselves and you can't do that if you are too stressed out to leave the house. We need everybody on their A game to stop the worst of the damage. If you can't help your country help your community, if you can't help your community help yourself. Take care of your mind, take care of your body.

History tells us these times come and then they go. It is up to us to survive and learn from them. We must refuse to be victims.

[maybe-its-5sos]

Dad (All Might Headcanon)

Requested: No Idea: What Toshinori would be like as your dad!

He's the softest sweetest dad!

He just wants to keep you happy and safe

He also wants to make you super proud!

He's absolutely wound around your little finger....what ever his baby wants, his baby gets! "Daddy, I wanna go to the zoo!" Toshinori having just sat down after an exhausting day of fighting crime "Of course dear, get dressed and lets go!" "I want that big bear plushy!" "okay!" he smiles reaching for his wallet.

He'll let you style his hair all you want. The mountain of a man will sit in front of the couch while you climb his back like a jungle gym, putting in cute hair clips and braiding it! "Daddy what do you think?" you cheerfully ask giving him a little hand held mirror. "I look fantastic, you should be my stylist, pumpkin!" He grins proudly, flipping his loose hair.

He'll absolutely play pretend and take part in tea parties, tiara and all... tho he had to have the chairs be made sturdier so he didn't flatten them with the power of them cheeks.

Lets you use his capes as blankets.

He always makes you walk towards the inside of the sidewalk. Tho when you're really young, he wont even let you walk at all and carries you around.

He would hold your hand at every doctors appointment! Knowing that you hate the hospital issued bandages because their industrial strength-, skin removing-, soul ripping-glue, he brings his own to make for a less fussy appointment.

He also does a full monster check in the house before putting you to bed. "Yep, no monsters there!" he says getting up from the floor after looking under you bed. "What about in there?" you ask pointing at the slightly open closet, hiding under your blanket. "Nothing in here either!" he smiles, after shuffling some clothes and looking around. He closes the door.

He'll read you bedtime stories and tucks you in. And yes, he gives all the characters voices.

Absolutely will let you sleep in his bed if you have a nightmare ("don't fear, why? Because I am here!" he says groggily with a smile), or even if you're just super fussy about going to bed.

He'll spoil you without making you a brat. He explains to you that not everyone can afford everything you two have. It absolutely warms his heart when you want to donate a bunch of toys to the less fortunate!

He doesn't expect you to ever become a hero, he just wants you to do whatever you love doing. Plus he doesn't want you to put yourself in unnecessary danger.

Kinda gives him a heart attack when you come home from school telling him that you want to be a hero like him. He won't try to change your mind (too hard) tho. He might try to sway you a bit, but gives up when he realizes that you're just as stubborn as him.

If you get hurt, that man is there with a first aid kit before you even realize you got hurt in the first place. "dad it's just a scratch." your roll your eyes as the large man cleans and puts an obnoxious bandage on your wound.

When you get older (teenager and so on) ya'll will absolutely have dinner/movie nights. Toshi loves spending any time with you that he can, especially when he can no longer be in his larger form

He thinks he isn't the cool dad anymore, but you constantly have to remind him that he's the best dad you could've ever ask for, plus now he doesn't take up 90% of the couch, so honestly you prefer it.

You're the light of his life and you'll never know how much your good ol' dad truly loves you.

Masterlist

Ask

With love,

-K

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I need more platonic headcannons in my life; can you do some general headcannons for being friends with Charlie, Angel Dust, Alastor, and Rosie? (Separately BTW)

Platonic Hazbin x Friend Reader

HEADCANONS

Charlie

Being friends with Charlie includes being down for her crazy ideas and schemes.

You are her third in command, the second being Vaggie, with whom you need to be friends.

You get to know all the details about all the hotel inhabitants. Charlie needs someone to spill the tea with who isn't her level-headed partner.

If you are single, she constantly sets you up on dates; she just wants you to have what she has.

However, if you are Aro or Ace, she stops and just finds more people for you to be friends with.

If you are super artistic, be prepared for her to ask for your help with a million things around the hotel.

If you are more left-brain and planning-oriented, she will definitely need your help making sure she shows up to her meetings on time.

She has a high standard of care for you. She is definitely texting three times a day to make sure you ate and are drinking water, friend.

She is a princess with a million and one things, thanks to her dad, so she loves spoiling you and Vaggie.

Friend dates are a must, whether at the hotel or not. She needs to decompress from her relationship, too.

Angel Dust

Clubbing every weekend and some weeknights. However, he will settle on sleepovers if clubbing isn't your style.

He only trusts you to help him when he is having a hard time with Val, so you two go on a lot of self-care dates.

When he can convince you to go to a club he is the ultimate let me hold your drink I trust no one else here.

You and he sit at the bar a lot and bother Husk. Between him flirting and you asking deranged questions, it is always a fun time.

Gives you the best flirting and dating tips, he may be a horn dog and porn star, but he is still a romantic at heart.

You two will 100% play dress up, it is one of his favorite pass times with you especially since a lot of Vel's clothes are meant for people with two arms.

He will not let you visit him at work, though he always comes and visits you. He is afraid that if Val saw you, he would try to trick you into working for him, too.

Teaches you how to pole dance if you are really curious; he thinks it's an excellent skill to have even if you aren't in the sex work industry.

If you choose to follow his lifestyle, he supports you wholeheartedly and even goes out of his way to help you find an ethical club or producer to work for so Val can't get his hands on you.

Alastor

He is a gentleman if you pass his vibe check and are allowed into his inner circle.

You two will go on hunts together if you like; if not, you are the first person he offers the cooked kill to.

Will try to convert you to cannibalism only a handful of times, if you like it you like it if not well damn.

He lets you help him script his broadcasts; however, he doesn't let you speak on them, so people won't come and target you.

Loves to help you ruffle Vaggie or Husk's feathers. Literally, his biggest enjoyment is making either one upset at whatever you two concocted.

Please help him annoy Lucifer; he will be your best friend for life.

You and he visit Rosie regularly to have tea dates and gossip about what is happening with all the other overlords.

He lets you help him clean up his murder weapons, sometimes its more fun to get your hands dirty than using the shadows all the time.

You and his central shadow talk constantly; this annoys him because you two goof off when he's trying to work.

You are the only person who he told about his wounds from Adam, and you help him clean up, best friend pact for life. You won't tell anyone how weak he was.

Rosie

She lets you help at the shop a lot, giving her more freedom and you more street credit.

She will stick up for you against Susan, even if you can handle yourself.

She shows you off to the other cannibals about how close of friends you two are.

She invites you to all her and Alastor's tea dates, enjoying the company of her best friends.

Like Charlie, she will try to find you a date, but only so she can kill them and eat them after they upset you.

Will also try to convert you to cannibalism; however, if you aren't in that crowd, she will happily take up cooking lessons with you.

Honestly, you two have a lot of cooking dates. I'm not gonna lie; you're teaching her how to cook regular food, and she teaches you how to cook other sinners.

She tells you all about her four dead husbands. She ensures you know all the juicy bits so you can hate on them together.

If she gets another husband, you will be the one to decide his fate 9/10. Rosie will come up to you and ask yes or no.

She teaches you all the weaknesses of a human so you can fare better in hell without her.

[chaussetteblanche]

I had this idea in my head for a while; With Kit Connor x gf reader, where she comforts him when he was pressured to come out

thank you <3

pairing : kit connor x reader summary : you are by kit's side as he deals with being forced to come out word count : 900 words warnings : swearing

note : the fact that some so-called "fans" watched the show and had the nerve of accusing him of queer-baiting and pressured into coming out when he was only eighteen is just disgusting to me, check yourselves y'all

You'd been dating Connor for a while. Being an actor, you'd met at some party he had attended with the Heartstopper cast. You'd met Yasmin first, and had immediately hit it off. She was unbelievably funny and down-to-earth. She had introduced you to the rest of the cast, and, naturally, you'd been drawn to Kit. You had exchanged numbers through shy smiles and shaky hands, the rest was history.

Dating someone in the acting world was both a blessing and a curse. As an actor, Kit understood and could relate to your struggles with roles, management, fame, social media... just the industry in general. You bonded over similar experiences as bisexuals who could pass as straight and who didn't always bother with labels or clarifying their sexualities. But as an actor, he was also often on the move, filming thousands of kilometres away from you or in a different time zone altogether.

But even with all this, being with Kit was easy. You both clicked, you just worked. You communicated your feelings and needs and even though you'd had your fair share of arguments, you loved him more than anything. He made you and your life so much better.

So you can imagine that when people he started being accused of queer-baiting and being pressured by people who missed the meaning of the show entirely to come out, you didn't take it well. You loved Kit with all your heart and would tear the world to pieces just for him.

"I just can't believe these people! How dare they? How can they just- sit there and demand this of you!" you'd ranted one night. "You're eighteen for Pete's sake! You don't owe them or anyone anything! Fucking cunts, it's just ridiculous that they think so!" Kit watched you from where he was sitting on the couch, running a hand over his face. You sigh, licking your lips as you trudged over to him. "I'm sorry," you speak softly, standing in between his legs. He looks up at you, shaking his head. "You've got nothin' for apologize for, luv," "But I shouldn't go off like this, it's not fair to you, this negative energy..."

He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck. Your hand immediately goes to his hair, gently scratching his scalp as the other wounds itself around his shoulders. "I would make them vanish off the face of the Earth if I could, I swear, I-" "You did all you could, my love, it's already more than enough." He meant the countless posts you'd made concerning his situation as well as other actors', speaking up on the issue in many interviews... He was right, you'd done everything in your power. But it still wasn't enough. And it was killing you.

"But it's not, though. They just won't stop! Where is their bloody decency? And you don't deserve this, any of this. It's so unfair." "I know," He lifted his head up to look at you. Your hand cupped his jaw before you kissed him deeply. "I can take it," he assured against your lips. You pulled away, frowning. "But you shouldn't have to. It's so unfair. I wish we could just shut them all up, tell them to fuck off." "But you've done that already, haven't you?" he chuckled. "Yes, but clearly the message didn't get through." He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. "Stop worrying about me. I'll take care of it." "What will you do?" "I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out."You'd seen the tweet before you'd seen him. He was supposed to come over to your place for Halloween, you were planning on attending a party together, dressed as Shaggy and Velma. You were halfway through getting ready. You had your outfit on and were just getting started on your makeup when your phone started blowing up. Confused, you picked it up, seeing Kit's tweet everywhere. You slapped a hand over your mouth, scrolling down Twitter. Even though you were furious at the people who had brought him to this, you couldn't help but feel proud of him for taking control of the situation and coming out on "his own terms", if they could be qualified as such.

Your doorbell rings and you all but run to open the door. Outside stands Kit, looking absolutely beaten. You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing. "I just saw," you breathe. He walks in and pulls you into a big hug, sighing shakily into your hair. You rub his back. "Oh, baby," you coo, "I'm so sorry, you don't deserve any of this,"

You usher him to your couch, closing the door and start making some tea. You set both your cups down on the coffee table, sitting down next to him. You take his hands in yours, caressing his knuckles. "How do you feel?" "I- I'm just disappointed, I guess. I thought people, especially after watching the show, would be more understanding, empathetic... just- more human, I guess." "Yeah, people are disappointing." "But I wanted to be the one to say you, you know? I didn't want that taken away from me, I didn't want to be outed." "And you were totally right, you took control of the situation and I'm so proud of you. You changed the narrative." He gave you a small smile.

Kit laid his face in your lap, hugging your thighs. "It still sucks, though," he spoke, voice muffled. You nodded, running a comforting hand up and down his back. "Yeah, it sucks. Do you wanna stay here tonight and watch some scary movies?" "Yes, please."

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Pretension

Oh joy, another Felix episode. Because the last one was just so good, wasn't it?

Let's get into the nineteenth episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fifth season: Pretension

We start off with Kagami and Adrien heading to school, with the former making plans with Marinette to spend a little time together, all while Argos stalks them. We then cut to Gabriel, who's attempting to heal his Cataclysm wound with a machine that drains the energy from his imprisoned Kwamis. It fails because... uh... uhhhh... it just doesn't?

Kaalki: I told you. No magic can heal this wound.

Barkk: A Cat Noir Cataclysm can't be healed!

Yeah, they just say nothing can heal the wound, and don't even mention the fact that we've already seen the Ladybug Miraculous heal Adren when he was wounded by his own Cataclysm in “Miraculer”. And before you say it was a weaker version of the attack, check out what Astruc said a few years ago when the subject was brought up.

Whether you want to take this as fact or not since it wasn't explained in the show itself, the point is that we've seen Ladybug heal someone who was wounded by Cataclysm before. Then again, considering the recent reveal, that episode only opens up another can of worms.

Back at school, Marinette talks with Adrien and Kagami about how Gabriel only sees her as some crazy fan, though she doesn't do a lot to help her case.

Tomoe arrives, and just like she's done this whole season, is only here to provide exposition while nagging Gabriel to get Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous already. Gabriel comes up with a plan involving a gadget Felix accidentally dropped at the end of the last season. If you forgot, I understand, since it's a pretty weird thing to call back to.

Marinette: He feels worried and I would be too if I were him. He thinks I'm one of those fans who follows you everywhere, showers you with hand-knitted gifts and knows every single one of your middle name days.

Kagami: Isn't that what you used to do, Marinette?

Marinette: Yes... except no! I mean, yes, but I was doing it out of love and, besides, I've changed a lot.

Kagami: You are correct.

Marinette: Really? You think I've changed a lot?

Kagami: No. Well, not that much.

I love when even the show points out how little character development there is. Makes my job a lot easier.

Adrien goes with Marinette to talk to Gabriel about their relationship. We get a pretty somewhat chilling moment where Gabriel's kind father facade briefly fades as he orders Adrien to go to his room so he and Marinette can talk, all while he still puts on a welcoming image. After Plagg reminds Adrien that all Gabriel knows how to cook is pancakes, Gabriel then lectures Marinette about why he doesn't want her to see Adrien.

Gabriel: I don't think you understand, child, so let me put things differently. Life is like fashion. You think you have a choice, but all you have is the illusion of choice. And I decide what choices are given to you.

Marinette: You're wrong! (Shows Gabriel her sketchbook with her designs) Fashion is about listening to people, it's about understanding who they are, what excites them and creating the clothes that will help them express their inner world. Help them connect with others and make their dreams come true.

Gabriel: (Laughs and looks over Marinette's sketchbook) No, that's not fashion. That's making dresses for your dolls. Fashion is a product, a marketing strategy, an industry that relies on uninterrupted trend renewal that forces you to either throw away everything you have and buy more or, worse, to be out of fashion.

That bastard! I can't believe Gabriel wants to make an honest living by using market research data to his advantage! What a piece of scum...

I joke, but the rest of Gabriel's little rant is even worse, as he acts as if he decides what people like and don't like, even though he just mentioned the importance of keeping up with current trends. Seriously, this dude's talking as if the entire world revolves around his brand.

Gabriel: Thanks to the clothes I create, the celebrities who wear them, the advertisements I design and the Alliance rings that broadcast them, I create an idyllic vision. A perfection that everyone aspires to achieve, while keeping it just out of their grasp. You finally understand the difference, don't you? You listen to people's desires and create what they want. Somehow, people make you. Whereas I create people's desires. They buy what I decide to buy. They think what I want them to think. I'm the one who makes people. You think you love Adrien, but you're just under the spell of this world I've created. A world where Adrien is the star, shining high above. A world where you're just part of the crowd below looking up at him.

Let's see... a complete narcissist with an obsession with controlling others, puts on a facade to make himself look more approachable, uses his influence to sell something to the masses that are part of his greater operation, and acts as if his products are necessary for society to function when they're more of a luxury than anything else? Where have I seen this before?

Marinette goes against Gabriel's wishes and tells Adrien she loves him before rightfully telling him to piss off... through a pancake metaphor, for some reason.

Marinette: You know what the problem is with your pancakes? Way too much flour, not enough butter. You're using an old, completely outdated recipe. No one likes them like that anymore. And that's the good thing about being a baker's daughter. I don't even need to try them to know that they're tasteless.

You know, I could make so many jokes about the state of the show with this little speech, but I feel like it'd be too easy.

Meanwhile, Kagami tries to tell her mother that she's not interested in Adrien anymore, but we get the same crap Tomoe has been saying ever since Season 3. “You must follow our family legacy, Kagami!”, “Stop letting your emotions control you, Kagami!”, “I'm only blind for a cheap visual metaphor, Kagami!”, yadda, yadda, yadda. During this, Argos overhears this and outright kidnaps Kagami. Rather than call the police to report a kidnapping, Tomoe calls Gabriel, who had transformed into Monarch offscreen, and tells him to akumatize him (even though she's still carrying her useless Magical Charm), which he does, turning her into Matagi Gozen.

Matagi Gozen is basically Ikari Gozen, only instead of a centaur, she now rides a robot dog for some reason and has a bow and arrow now. Her powers are basically related to her size and riding a robot dog, mostly so we can focus on her Miraculous powers for the day. Even though Tomoe was seen wearing six Alliance rings before she called Gabriel, she only gets three powers, the Bee Miraculous' Venom, the Rooster Miraculous' Sublimation (which she uses to give herself an enhanced sense of smell), and the Mouse Miraculous' Multitude. It's really just the same setup we got in “Multiplication” with a few changes, and it's nothing special. Although, it's too bad that Monarch doesn't have the Dog Miraculous, as that would have really gone well with her powers.

As the four Matagi Gozen clones go on the hunt, Argos takes Kagami to the Eiffel Tower to hide out, where we get—wait, it's, it's, BY GOD, IT'S KAGAMI WITH A WOODEN CHAIR!

Argos transforms back into Felix, and unintentionally throws Matagi Gozen off the trail since she was tracking him through one of the feathers on his fan. It turns out that after that single conversation they shared last episode, Felix is suddenly developing feelings for Kagami, and the whole reason he kidnapped her, aside from “protecting her from her mother”, is to get to talk to her again.

Felix: We have so much in common, and yet, you're also so different. I've never met someone like you.

Kagami: We don't even know each other!

Felix: I know you. I've been following you non-stop.

Kagami: Even better! You follow me, you spy on me and now you've kidnapped me to get to know me?!

Felix: Uh... yes?

Kagami: You are utterly incompetent at social relations.

See? Felix isn't a sociopath who just tried to wipe out all of humanity last episode! He just needs to make friends, that's all.

Yeah, in case you can't tell, it seems like the show is still trying to course correct the characterization of Felix. Rather than the overconfident and manipulative wild card he was for his last five appearances, the episode is now trying to make Felix out to be a secretly awkward person with noble goals. Afterall, he saved Kagami, so by that logic, he has to be a good guy. Yeah, he technically stalked her like a creep, but it ended up being good in the end, didn't it?

After Marinette and Adrien transform into Ladybug and Cat Noir respectively, the Matagi Gozen clones start to track Felix through the scent of the aforementioned gadget. Right as Matagi Gozen finds Felix, Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, giving Felix the chance to transform into Argos and escape with Kagami again.

Matagi Gozen: This is what heroes do? Not only did you help that monster escape, but now you're going to fight me? A mother trying to save her daughter?

Cat Noir: Hey, my lady. When you think about it, they're not wrong. We all want the same thing. If we let them save Kagami, we could seize the opportunity to get Felix's Miraculous back.

Ladybug: Too risky. They're under Monarch's influence.

Yeah, but you can't even try to negotiate a temporary alliance between Matagi Gozen? Yes, we know that she's working for Monarch, but the heroes don't know that. All we get is Ladybug asking Matagi Gozen to reject the Megakuma, and she goes back to fighting them. How interesting would it have been for Ladybug and Cat Noir to make an uneasy alliance with someone they don't know is working for Monarch?

After Cat Noir gets ignored during one of the few times he makes a decent point, he escapes to the sewer and detransforms, Matagi Gozen losing their scent trail. Matagi Gozen goes back to looking for Kagami, and decides to shoot her with some arrows tipped with Venom. Argos defends Kagami, and breaks up his fan to throw the pieces around and create multiple fake scent trails to throw off Matagi Gozen before detransforming. How Argos even came came up with this plan when I don't think he figured out Matagi Gozen could smell really good is anyone's guess.

As Kagami and Felix keep running away, Kagami asks the question I'm sure you've all been thinking.

Kagami: I don't understand. You have the Miraculous of the peacock, why don't you create a Sentimonster to get us out of here?

Felix: First of all, don't call them that.

Fine, “walking sin against nature” it is. Got anything else to say there, buddy? Maybe anything that isn't a half-assed speech meant to make the audience sympathize with you?

Felix: I refuse to create a being to manipulate them, control them, abuse them, and end up destroying them. When you bring a living being into this world, you have a responsibility towards them. Your duty is to protect them, love them, help them discover the true meaning of their existence. To deprive them of that... is monstrous.

Kagami: Are you talking about... yourself?

Felix: I'm talking about... us.

Come on dude! I said anything that isn't a half-assed speech meant to make the audience sympathize with you!

Okay, I've been putting this off long enough. Let's talk about Felix's ideology, his little speech, and, how it contradicts his previous appearances.

First off, for someone who refuses to create a Sentimonster to control and abuse, Felix had no trouble screwing around with Adrien in his first episode when his main goal was to get one of the rings from Gabriel. Hell, it makes even less sense why he'd keep that ring that we know can be used to control Adrien if his plan ultimately amounted to trading it away along with the fifteen Miraculous in Ladybug's possession.

Second, Felix literally created a Sentimonster to destroy humanity with just last episode, and he doesn't even mention that. Yeah, you can chalk it up to character development, but we don't even get a line about learning about the burden of ending a life you yourself created. It just feels like a way to make him seem more sympathetic after he went all “I'M THE GOD! I'M THE GOD!” last episode.

Third, and I'm just going to be honest about this, but why should I care about the life of a Sentimonster when the show has shown it doesn't care either? Ever since the end of Season 2, we've seen Sentimonsters be summoned and erased from existence left and right, and other than a single occasion (Ladybug), nobody has really brought up the fact that Sentimonsters are living beings too. Even putting that aside, most of the Sentimonsters we've seen have either been giant monsters, clones of other people, or mindless tools, none of which showed any desire to be alive other than to serve their purpose. It's only because Adrien, Felix, and now Kagami are revealed to be Sentimonsters that we should care about the ethics of summoning a Sentimonster in battle. Even in the last episode, Felix never brought up than Ladybug is essentially taking innocent lives whenever she de-evilizes an Amok.

And finally, the fact that this speech was used to set up a romance between Felix and Kagami, not because he saw a kindred spirit in her, but rather, because he believes that she's a Sentimonster too. You know that episode of South Park where Cartman tried to set up Token with a new girl, where the entire joke was that it was because Cartman believed that black people can only date other black people? This is basically that story with none of the irony. The episode seriously treats Felix taking an interest in Kagami specifically on the basis that she may be the same kind of artificial creation as him, as if he isn't capable of relating to anyone who also has to deal with abusive parents and isn't a Sentimonster. On a completely unrelated note, isn't it funny how out of the four rich kids with abusive or neglectful parents, Chloe is the only one who isn't a Sentimonster and is the least sympathetic?

Ladybug (having gotten a pair of scissors from activating her Lucky Charm offscreen) and Cat Noir try to stop Felix, but after a single speech from him, Kagami is now completely on his side for some reason.

Kagami: Felix is not your enemy! He's like me! He doesn't know how to express himself. Everyone is wrong about him! Including me.

Funny, I don't seem to remember you dooming all of Paris by giving over a dozen magical artifacts to a supervillain. Also, speaking from someone who struggles to socialize in real life, I can confirm that social awkwardness isn't really an excuse to kidnap someone. Just remember what happened in Misery.

Ladybug realizes that Felix and Kagami are vital to her Lucky Charm working, she decides to trust Felix. Felix then transforms into Argos and immediately escapes without contributing to the plan, while Kagami uses the scissors to cut the string of Matagi Gozen's bow after Ladybug and Cat Noir restrain the Akuma.

Ladybug then de-evilizes the Megakuma, uses Miraculous Ladybug to fix the damage caused by the fight, gives Tomoe yet another useless Magical Charm after the last useless one broke because it was completely useless, and Argos once got away without facing any consequences for his actions.

Afterwards, Kagami tries to stand up to Tomoe, but she orders her to hand over her ring containing her Amok—I mean, her ring that has absolutely no control over her, and is part of this thrilling mystery. Adrien also tries to stand up for Marinette, and Gabriel tells him to enjoy her time with Marinette... before saying he's moving to London next year. This is supposed to be a dick move, but with how often Adrien gets caught in the crossfire of Akuma attacks, with or without the mask, this is arguably the smartest thing Gabriel has done for the past five seasons. Adrien chooses not to tell Marinette about London, because I guess all that whining about hating secrets only mattered when someone else was withholding information from him.

The episode ends with Felix revealing that the ring Kagami gave her mother was a fake. Of course, this makes no sense because not only did we never see Felix steal the ring from Kagami, but Tomoe has a mental connection to Kagami, she should notice the ring is a fake. Also, you know how Kagami's arc so far has been a mixture of finding independence from her controlling mother while coming to terms with her breakup with Adrien? Get ready for all of that to be thrown out the window, because the writers are desperate to make him look good, Felix is now the one to save her from her mother and give her independence back, while also hinting at a relationship starting between the two. I'd say this episode fumbled the landing, but I haven't even gotten to the season finale yet.

This episode started out pretty poorly, and quickly went downhill afterwards. The idea of explaining why Gabriel's Cataclysm wound can't be healed was convoluted, Felix continues to be unlikable, Tomoe once again shows how terrible of an antagonist she is.

I'll admit, the chemistry between Marinette and Adrien was decent, but it's far too late to really establish a proper rivalry between her and Gabriel more than halfway through the fifth season, especially while discussing fashion when it's only been used to justify plots where she tries to make stuff for Adrien. The writers had plenty of time, yet rather than build up tension between the main hero and main villain, they decided we needed more episodes revolving around Chloe, Lila, and Felix.

Speaking of, Felix once again shows how poorly written he is. He was the one to instigate the conflict, it wasn't established if he even had a plan on what to do once he gets away with Kagami, and if anything, only made things worse because of his refusal to surrender, much less acknowledge his fault in this situation when the Akuma chasing after him is only as powerful as she is now because he gave his evil uncle multiple Miraculous to use for his Akumas. But no, he has to be the one to wreck Kagami's character arc and be the one to try and liberate her from Tomoe's influence because he's a good guy now! It says a lot when Cat Noir is the only one who still isn't trusting Felix at this point.

While it's nowhere near as bad as “Emotion”, this was still a really bad episode to follow up on.

THE BIGGEST IDIOT OF THE EPISODE IS...TOMOE

While Felix came dangerously close to winning the award, he at least showed more restraint here, and was able to throw off both Matagi Gozen a few times. Tomoe, on the other hand, got nothing to show any real intelligence, and if anything, proved she was just as incompetent as Gabriel is. She chose to nag Gabriel while he was suffering from the effects of his fatal wound, decided to akumatize herself instead of even considering contacting the cops to stop a single kidnapping, while ironically drawing more attention to herself in her attempt to save Kagami and stop Felix, decided to try shooting her daughter instead of the one who abducted her, and didn't even realize the ring capable of controlling her daughter was replaced by a fake when she should obviously be able to sense something.

[brandogenius]

Could you do boygenius (as a band not together) younger!artist or younger band (like teens or early twenties)? They are always talking about making their shows and the industry safer for people, especially the younger artists and I feel they would meet artist(s) and just try to help them out as much as they can and become sort of protective over them bc their so young and the boys know how bad it can get. Like just them helping them out and hanging out and what they’d be like at award shows and stuff. Thx!

i love this sm omg!

‼️RPF‼️

HC - boygenius & younger! artist

- they take you under their wing 100%

- you go on tour with them and they try to make it accessible for you

- you have a badge around your neck for all shows for security to verify you’re apart of the tour and over 18

- in the studio recording harmony vocals for their album

- “it’s past your bedtime now- time to go to bed”

- phoebe teasing you all the time about being the baby of their little group

- you are a solo artist but everyone groups you with the boys while you’re on tour

- morning coffee runs with julien

- in the tour bus lounge area listening to music while lucy knits, phoebe writes and julien reads

- especially if this is your first tour, the boys want to make sure it’s special

- phoebe helping you set up your in ear monitors before you start soundcheck

- “they are boygenius’s unofficial little sibling”

- coming out on stage during salt in the wound, running around with lucy and phoebe

- phoebe about to bark at people in the twitter replies upon seeing hate comments about you

- “don’t listen to them. you’re way cooler than they’ll ever be man”

- going award dress shopping with the boys. they bring you with them. grabbing a bunch of dresses off the racks to try on and get everyone’s personal opinion

- sticking by your side for your first award show. intertwining arms with julien and lucy

- a lot of pre show photo dumps, behind the scene tour instagram photos

- phoebe doing your makeup before the show. sitting in front of you putting on eyeliner

- lucy doing your lipstick with her signature red

- lucy letting you borrow some of her books to read whilst on tour

- the trio sticking up for you when a crew member / security man is being a bit unfair

- late night karaoke in the tour bus. singing your hearts out until 5am

- “what do you mean you graduated highschool last year? holy shit i feel old”

- “I WAS TOURING LAST YEAR AND YOU WERE A SENIOR?”

- phoebe and julien specifically love to call you kid

- “grab the guitar case, kid”

- youre around the age of 19-20 so there’s a rough estimate age gap you and the boys of like 10-9 years

- they honestly become your family on the road. helping and trying to cheer you up when you feel homesick

- hyping you up during photoshoots

- sharing spotify playlists / making spotify blends with each of the boys and sharing each others music

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Disobeying Tommy's orders, you're back in Small Heath. Your rebellious attitude starts to really bother him but you don't care. All that matters is that you're reunited with Arthur and John, the two men of your lives. From then, nothing can go wrong. Nothing, right? -- Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.5k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, allusions to self-harm.

Notes:

✞ Theme song on repeat if you want to break your heart: HERE

✞ Quotes from the TV Shows are in bold and italics

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

The deafening howl of the train’s honk boomed in Small Heath’s station, quickly followed by a whistling sound. The steel giant had barely opened its heavy doors when the foul-smelling wind of the city rushed into the wagon and made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was not that you hated Small Heath strictly speaking, but the stark contrast between the industrial city and the green landscape of the forest in which you lived now was difficult to process. The sound of your stiletto soon clicked on the metallic steps as you got off the train, attracting people’s eyes to your tiny frame. Yet, you weren’t really sure if this sudden attention came from their sound, or rather the sight of your short black dress adorned with the most expensive white fur coat you had ever owned, and the gold choker necklace you wore, whose shape was one of a barbed wire wrapped around your neck. When your heels found the dirty concrete of the platform, a gargantuan hundred pounds Cane Corso with a spiked collar followed you closely, like a silent but off-putting bodyguard. He was your shadow, mimicking each of your movements and grazing your steps,  except if told otherwise. Loyal guardian, Kaiser was even more protective since Arthur left. Without minding the fascinated or curious stares that were looking at you, you walked out of the station with the dog’s leash in one of your small hands and a cigarette in the other.

“Mrs. Shelby? Here is your bag.” A man told you, all the while putting the said luggage at your feet. 

“Thanks, sir.” You replied with a brief polite smile, before stubbing your cigarette on the nearest wall and throwing it away. At first, you had been surprised by the care the staff provided you during the whole trip until you saw the glow of fear in their eyes as soon as they noticed your family name on the ticket.  She’s Arthur Shelby’s wife, you better be ready to help her with her stuff if you don’t want her husband to knock at your door and break your skull. That was what the ticket inspector told one of his colleagues when he met him in another wagon a few minutes after this frightful discovery. Waiting in front of the train station with a slight feeling of uneasiness, you swept your surrounding with your celeste blue eyes, whose coldness equaled the freezing English wind.  Looking around you in the hope of catching sight of a cab, your fingers absentmindedly brushed the almost imperceptible white burn scar on your wrist. The circle-shaped wound the cigarette had left on your skin had miraculously healed in a matter of days.

“Welcome home, little Angel.”  A familiar voice echoed right behind you. You turned around in one swift movement, and your freezing gaze turned into a child-like expression: John’s smile welcomed you, its charms so blinding that it made you momentarily forget about the dreadful feeling you carried in your soul. 

“John!” You exclaimed, unable to hold your joy any longer. Kaiser’s bark followed right after when he recognized who the man was. Without further ado, you rushed into him to pull him in a hug. Amused, John could not help but chuckle at such a vivid reaction before wrapping your body with his muscular arms and tightening his grip around you with the firm desire not to let you go, “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him. Your enlightened expression adorned your doll face and made your hypnotizing eyes shine with elation.

“That ain’t the right question, love. What are you doing here?” He teased you, raising one of his eyebrows, then stared right at your eyes. His tongue pushed the toothpick that was in his mouth from the right corner to the left before he went on, “When Arthur got your letter he told me about your arrival in Birmingham. Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm. I’m the one who came at the train station ‘cause Arthur still has to make a few last-minute adjustments to welcome you here.”  As he talked, the young Shelby brother had freed one of his hands from your delicate body to pat the big Cane Corso’s head. The latter closed his eyes, mouth wide open and tongue hanging in bliss.

“A few adjustments?” You frowned.

“Like, threatening all the men of Small Heath not to even look at you, and dealing with Tommy’s reaction. He’s fuckin’ mad at you, eh.” 

Of course, he was — you could not expect less from Thomas Shelby. God, you barely arrived in town he already found a way to bother you, even if he was not here. At this stage, he had real talent. “You know what? Fuck Tommy. If he thought I’d be dumb enough to stay out of the plan while my husband and you risk your lives, well it’s his problem, not mine. And if Changretta’s men come to my door, I’ll put them in the dirt myself.” That being said, you waved off the topic, “But let’s not talk about Tommy, please” You concluded, then laid a soft kiss on his chin.  As your juicy lips crashed against his skin, John half-closed his eyelids and let out a soft exhale from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” He stated, referring to you possibly burying Changretta’s henchmen six feet deep. John enjoyed the physical contact for a few extra seconds, then he gently parted from you and closed his fingers around your wrist in a soft grip. You raised your gaze to him, surprised.

“Wait a minute. I just wanna check something before you get in my car.” His smile vanished, handing over to a very serious expression that kind of unsettled you.

“What‘s the problem?” Your smile followed his somewhere else. You didn’t know where, but what was sure was that it had left your face. 

Without the slightest warning, John raised your arm above your head and made you twirl one first time, “Would you look at you, little angel! What a stunning outfit!” He exclaimed, before spinning you again to admire your otherworldly beauty, “Oh my God, I’m in love. Last time we met you were barefoot in the grass like some kind of ethereal nymphet and here you come in the shape of a goddess, dressed like a queen?”  You suddenly chuckled at his unexpected reaction.

“Hey fuck you! You’ve scared me!” You nudged him in the ribs with your free arm, but it only made him laugh louder. 

“My little heart can’t resist that.” He winked at you, his grin stretching in an adorably annoying smile only he could do before making you twirl again. Sometimes, you wondered if Tommy and he were really brothers. He is so different from Arthur and John. You thought.

“John! Shut up, dumbass. Your little heart can’t resist girls in general — or more like your cock can’t resist girls.” You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed pout which only resulted in John protectively wrapping your shoulders with one arm. 

“That’s my mean angel! Fuck I’ve missed you and your quick wit so bad. C’mon!” He said, grabbing your bag with his free hand before you started walking away. Kaiser ran and hopped inside the car a few seconds before you did.

The whole trip went well, casual conversations and joking with John had managed to alleviate the anger in your heart, which was far too focused on the driver’s joyful voice and stunning eyes. He talked to you about the kids, about his new house, and about some childhood stories. Surprisingly enough, each of his sentences had snatched a smirk from you despite the anxious situation in which the Shelbys were embedded. Nevertheless, your mind drifted away at some point and you stopped listening to him though. Not that he bothered you, but it was rather due to the fact that you lost yourself in the contemplation of the smallest details of his face. The adorable freckles, his little round ears, his pinchable cheeks… Everything about John Shelby made you feel at home. 

“Is that fine with you?” His voice suddenly popped your thoughts bubble.

“Hm?”

“I was saying that you’re going to live a few days at me house just the time for Arthur to secure Watery Lane properly. You’ll spend Christmas with me, Esme, and the kids.” He repeated, noticing he had been talking to himself for a little while.

“Ah,” You started, batting your Bambi lashes quickly to chase away your daydreams. That was all you could say, for you dive into your thoughts right again. A comforting silence fell between you. After a little while, John slightly bit the inner of his cheek and glanced at you. The truth was he had been hesitating on his next move for five solid minutes. No matter how goofy John Shelby could act, he was a sharp observant. Considering his ease at analyzing people, he naturally noticed the way your fingers nervously played with the fabric of your dress, indicating your inner turmoil. The young gangster slowly moved his hand towards you, still conflicted about what he was about to do — Was it appropriate? Were you going to slap him? He hoped not, for he didn’t want to crash the car on the side of the road and explain the reason behind the accident to Esme. But worst than facing his wife’s wrath was to offend you.

No, no he wouldn’t want you to hate him. Yet, John was not the kind of man to let the demons of his mind win. Acting first, and thinking after was a motto he often applied in real life. He briefly looked at you again, his sky-blue eyes meeting your aquamarine iris before they shifted their focus back on the road. The young Shelby brother finally gathered his courage and rested his warm and strong hand on your thighs. 

“Hey. Are you okay? You didn’t tell me what you think about living at me house.” 

“Oh yeah,” You slightly shook your head, “That’s fine with me John boy.” You finally said, punctuating your sentence by gently covering his hand with yours and, to his greatest surprise, your small and cold fingers clenched around him. The physical contact almost immediately sent a wave of comforting warmth into your soul. John’s lips stretched in a caring smile and he replied to your sweet gesture by turning his hand to intertwine your fingers together.

That was definitely fine with you, for you knew that as long as John was around, there was no place for the storm.

Only for the sun.

A sun as bright as his smile.

“Get the fuck off my way.” Arthur’s gruff voice thundered in the hallway, followed by a noisy thud and Michael’s flourishing insults.

“Piss off, Arthur!” 

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes.  All the while walking through the corridor, he had thrown his beret out of frustration and had brought his hands in his hair to nervously slick them back. He busted into the living room and his shiny steel blue eyes, sparkling with a gleam of hope, searched for you. 

“Hey, Arthur.” When your soft voice swirled in the room and reached his ear with the tone of a mesmeric siren’s chant, goosebumps of excitation appeared on Arthur’s skin. Moving your body with a wildcat’s grace from the sofa, you stood up and looked at your husband with an adorably shy smile, like a young bride seeing her groom for the very first time. All the confidence you’ve felt kinda disappeared now that you were standing in front of him — would he be happy to see you? Or did you deceive him by disobeying and coming back to town despite Changretta’s men lurking in the shadow? You hadn’t the time to think about the matter though for Arthur rushed to you without waiting any longer and, with an uncontrolled strength enhanced by the power of his overflowing emotions, hugged your little frame. The gangster then lifted you from the ground, causing a cry of surprise to break free from your plumped and glossy lips.

“Bloody Hell, angel! I’ve told ye to stay safe at home!” 

He said, putting you back on the ground right before cupping your face with his large, warm, and calloused hands, before you could even react, “I’ve told ye it was too fookin’ dangerous here! What if Changretta and his men would have attacked you on the train eh?!” He exclaimed, a bit more aggressively than intended. At first, you opened your mouth to reply but no sound came out. The sight of his pained eyes and his worried expression suddenly made you feel a bit guilty: if there was one thing you hated it was being the cause of his worries. “Hmm?!” He insisted when faced with your silence. His piercing blue iris dived into yours, looking in their celestial frost for the answer your mouth could not produce. 

“I— I don’t care. If you’re in trouble then I am too. If you fight, I fight. If you die, then I fucking die. We’re one, and I’m sick of acting like the good frail wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war,” You started, shaking yourself out of your silence; and the more you spoke, the more your confidence came back, backfiring, “I don’t care about the danger, Arthur.” A desperate smile stretched the corner of your lips, making your eyes squint a little bit. A smile both tainted with sadness and mad love, “The first time we met I’ve made the promise that you’ll never face Hell alone ever again and I don’t plan to back up now that we’re at its gates.” 

“Yer fookin’ crazy, I swear you are.” He replied. His eyes shone with dawning tears as he observed your holy pulchritude, “Out of yer goddamn mind, Heaven Shelby… Fookin’ bonkers.” His face relaxed, anger swept away by the winter breeze that had rushed into the living room through the open window. Arthur finally let out a nervous yet endeared little chuckle and shook his head in disbelief, "You're so much trouble eh."

“I’ve learned from you.” You straight off replied, gently pressing your forehead against his in this intimate gesture that was so proper to him. Yet, he didn’t reply right away, still shaken by your fierceness — these last two weeks had almost made him forget how untamable you were. He wanted to scold you for behaving in such a reckless way — He really did. But the truth was big bad Arthur Shelby couldn’t resist you. And God knew how hard it was to function without your heavenly and reassuring presence. If he had to be honest, he would admit that he wasn’t sure he could do it without you anymore. He was consumed by his love for you, body and soul.

A little sigh escaped from his lips as his boiling worries slowly faded away, drowning himself in the little details of your face. With trembling fingers, Arthur grazed your snow-white hair. Fuck, he had missed you bad. Very bad. To the extent of drinking himself to sleep almost every night and lashing out at the boxing ring, mercilessly beating his opponents, for these were the only ways he had found not to slip into pure insanity. 

“Angel —“ He started, wanting to say so many things at once, but words choked in his throat. Closing his mouth, Arthur swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. The joy of having you there was so intense that his mind could not find something relevant to say: he wanted to talk about Tommy, about the letter he had sent you, about the Changrettas but nothing mattered anymore. What did though was you and him. That was why he finally gave up everything to hug your frame again, his spine bent so that he could bury his face in your small breasts. “I promise I’ll protect ye with me whole life, Angel. No one’s gonna hurt ye. Not on me watch.” He finally mumbled, the sound of his words muffled against the soft pale skin your cleavage exposed, thus turning his plead into more of a symphony of low grunts than anything else. 

“I’m here, darling.” You reassured him. Arthur squeezed your body a bit too painfully in reply, but you didn’t mind. The uncomfortable pressure of his brutal grip chased your worries away and made your whole soul flicker — It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, as no other men did before, and you genuinely liked it. So, he could break you in half with his hug if he wanted, you would be okay if it was the price to pay to keep feeling his possessive and aggressive love all around you.

With the desire to soothe his heated spirit and confusing thoughts that were bumping into each other in his confused head, you let your small fingers lose themselves in his messy hair. Your gesture brought immediate relief, whose warm sensation spread in his bones at the contact with your frozen skin. Arthur’s whole being gradually relaxed, and he could finally let out the pressure of these last two weeks. All of sudden, you felt salty and wet drops running down your chest, “I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again. 

“I’ve missed you too.” You said in a whisper. Ceasing to caress his hair, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed his face a bit more against your bosom, keeping him still until his grip finally loosen around you and his tears run dry. Now that the storm of emotions was slowly calming down, Arthur sniffed one last time and raised his head, his lips reaching for yours. The press of his kiss, eager and hungry, dissipated the last couple of clouds of his troubled mind the moment your flesh reunited. Weakened by his scorching passion, your legs shook at the sweet and liquored taste of whisky on your tongue, while his strong hands explored you just as if the tall gangster wanted to make sure you were really here. To make sure he was not dreaming. His hands grabbed you, rubbed the sides of your thighs, ran up the curves of your ass, and then clenched on your shoulder blades for a short while before going down again to seize your waist in a bruising movement. You squeezed your eyes tighter, shaken to the core by the way his fingers left streams of fire in their trail, melting the ice that had settled under your skin the night he had left the house without you. Arthur deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

After an undefinable while during which you both lost the notion of time, his tongue gave yours one last stroke before he finally broke the kiss and reopened his eyes. Yes… You were still there — to his greatest relief. You let out a faint feverish sigh, the sensation of his kiss still tingling on your swollen lips, then you tilted your head to the side. Betrothed by your adorable pout, Arthur’s smile widened until the crow feet at the corner of his eyes appears. 

“Look at you. You’re fookin’ stunning, little one.” He laid his big hand on your cheek and you gently rubbed it against his palm in reply.

“What about you tell me what you're up to instead of treating me like a little girl, Mr Shelby?” You teased, your reunion definitely erasing the worries out of your brain, even if the threat section D had sent you still lingered at the back of your mind. 

“Listen,” He started, his thumb brushing your lips with utter desire but he tried not to get too distracted by them, “John should have already told ye but you’re going to stay here ‘til Christmas hm? The house isn’t safe yet and you’ll be safer with Esme and the kids. Also, John will stick around to protect you. Just until Christmas right?”

“What about you?” You retorted, furrowing your brows. 

“As for me Tommy and I will figure out what to do. But don’t ye worry… " He brought his face closer, his mouth reaching your ear, "Each night I’ll be back in your arms and I’ll show ye how bad I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his low voice alike the growl of a starving wolf, “I'm a little afraid ye’ forgot what’s like to feel your husband, hmm.” A little amused snort came from your nostrils at the delightful perspectives. For sure, Arthur’s way to make up for the last two weeks of loneliness you’ve both been through was particularly exciting. 

“You think so? Little evil me is not so sure if she prefers Kaiser’s presence next to her in bed rather than yours. ” 

“We’ll see, love.” He was about to kiss you a second time to shut your bratty mouth when Esme appeared at the doorframe, arms crossed in her chest and one brow raised.

“There are kids there.” She reminded, her voice cold and slightly bothered. Of course, she wasn’t enchanted by your stay here, but it has been two years since you joined the Shelby family, which had given her all the time needed to tame her hostility toward you. Your relationship was still rocky, but at least she had stopped insulting you on every occasion. 

“Oops, sorry Esme.” You replied with the biggest and most charming smile you could do before taking a step back from your husband to help him —and you— resist the temptation of giving in to your burning desires. Arthur could not help but chuckle at the comment. He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there.

“Alright, no need to bark Esme.” He grunted, but the sincerity of his grumpiness was definitely undermined by the faint smirk etched on his lips.

“I’ve made tea.” Esme went on, her magnificent brown eyes going from Arthur to you several times. Their dark color struck you for one second for their hard beauty reminded you of autumn leaves spinning in the immensity of her iris. You did not hate her. You never did. As harsh as her behavior had been, you had come to understand that her reactions were dictated by fear rather than spite. As a very catholic person, Esme was more than terrified by evil spirits — and she ultimately thought you were one, not seeing the enamored twenty-five-year-old girl you were, but the evil witch you could be. You could not blame her though, for she wasn’t entirely wrong. Somehow, you were convinced that Esme was the only one of the family who truly understood your dormant dangerous nature. What she did not grasp though was the sincerity of your feelings, “Hurry up.” She said, turning around and returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” You gently wrapped your arms around your husband, “Kaiser is waiting in the kitchen. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Ah right, let’s see the man who took me place in bed.”

Arthur had barely stepped into the room when you heard the dog’s frantic barks, soon followed by his muscular body running toward his master to greet him with great enthusiasm. The sight of Kaiser almost reaching Arthur’s height, with his two front paws on his shoulders, filled you with joy.

It was at this very moment that you were almost convinced that nothing could go wrong.

The calm of the forest was a type of peacefulness nothing else could outmatch. All that was lacking from this grandiose landscape was the mighty shadow of the old and wise mountains of Haute-Falaise, whose silent lullaby could only be heard by those who paid close attention to it. From where you came, Christmas was always synonymous with snow along with the cold sensation of frosty wind biting at your face. Each time you would come back home after a joyful moment of playing games outside with your little sister, the warmth of the hearth’s fire would welcome you. But this Christmas, like many others since you left France, there was no snow. No mountains. And no little sister anymore. You were alone in the forest, wandering among the dead trees and the howling breeze.

Katie had woken up with a light fever, and she had cried in her father’s arms for twenty strong minutes before he managed to hush down her sorrow. Following a quick discussion with John, you informed him that you knew a natural remedy against fever and then, you went in the forest to collect the few plants you needed to concoct a healing tea. Esme would have naturally disagreed with the idea if John had told her, which hadn’t been the case. Instead, you simply replied that you needed some fresh air when she asked you why you were venturing outside the house on Christmas morning.

Oh, fuck it's you. Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning? // Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's Yard now, come on.

You’ve been wandering for over one hour when you finally found all the plants you needed for Katie’s tea. Satisfied, you headed back home with a light heart, already thinking about the pleasant breakfast that was waiting for you. A small grin flattered your lips at the thought of the children tearing their gifts’ paper apart and screaming with awe at the discovery of their new toys. 

What's gonna happen man, it's fucking Christmas.

Moreover, you could not wait for the adults to open their gifts too. Even if Ada told everyone to focus on the kids, you could not help but buy a little something for the house’s hosts: a beautiful silver necklace with a protective crystal pendant for Esme, and an expensive ring for John inside which was engraved the sentence “Le soleil brûle dans ton sourire” which meant "The sun burns in your smile". 

John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids. Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine.

For sure you could not wait to see their surprised expression slowly shifting to joy the moment you would give them their gifts! A little smile flattered your lips at such adorable thought. In truth, you had stopped celebrating Christmas for so long that the perspective to do it today delighted you. It was going to be a wonderful, wonderful day.

Get in the fuckin' house!

The petrifying detonations of gunshots tore the forest’s silence apart, which caused a cloud of afraid birds to erupt from the trees’ thick foliage. One shot, the surprise made you wonder if you had really heard that or if it was just the traumatizing memories of men chasing you down in the forest that was playing with your mind. Two shots, you turned towards where the noise was coming from, realizing it was real. Three shots — they stirred a brutal pain in your chest. A pain so vivid your fingers loosened their grips on the plants, letting them go, and grabbed the place where your heart was. It was drumming so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crushed by the unexplainable ache and a crawling feeling of anxiety, you leaned against a tree not to collapse on the muddy soil. Your throat felt tight, to the extent you could barely breathe anymore. With eyes wide open, you desperately tried to calm yourself and comprehend what was happening to you. And suddenly the macabre evidence of the whole situation hit you like a train — a suffocating panic seized you again as you realized that the gunshots were not coming from hunters in the forest but from John's house.

No.

Your body moved slowly from the tree, taking a few wobbly steps.

“No!” Your voice yelled but no one was there to hear your desperate cry except the pristine nature, which had sent the wind to howl in pain with you. A surge of adrenaline ran through your body and, as if you had received the fiercest whiplash ever, you started running to the house as fast as you could. You ran faster and faster, with the cold breeze biting your face and brambles clawing at your exposed skin as you rushed past thick bushes. That was all you could do anyway for every other function of your being had shut down to focus only on your restless race. You could not think straight anymore. You could not hear anything else than the brutal beating of your heart resonating in your skull. Gosh, you couldn't even see properly, your vision narrowed into a small point in the horizon that was John's house. So you just ran, you ran no matter the insufferable burn in your lungs and the soreness of your legs.

"Hey! Come back, little doe". You could almost hear them behind you. The cruel men who hunted little thirteen years old you in the dark woods of Haute-Falaise. "We’re not gonna hurt you! Fuck — where’s that little slut?!"

Moving away the last branches aside, you jumped above a thick root and broke the last meters that separated you from the house. That was when you heard it, the agonizing scream of Esme. Her voice, filled with pain and fear, almost pierced your eardrums like the wailing lament of a Banshee. You reached the front of the house and suddenly, your legs made an abrupt stop, refusing to move anymore. In front of your wide-opened eyes, from which tears were already leaking, laid the inanimate body of both Michael and John in a crimson puddle of their own blood.

"John! Oh my God, John! No!" Esme yelled, her face contorting with indescribable sorrow and insufferable ache. She was kneeling on the pavement and hugging the motionless frame of her husband, whose skin already faded two shades paler. The young Romani beauty shook him but John's eyes remained shut. At first, you wanted to scream along with her, giving in to panic, but no sound came from your mouth. Instead, you let your quivering body drop to its knees and immediately put the moist palms of your hands on your best friend's wounded chest — The numerous bullet holes had made flowers of blood blossom on the white fabric of his shirt.

You took a deep breath, threw your head back, and closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to channel all the magic that was running in your blood to save him. After all, you had witnessed your mother performing similar miracles in your childhood. All you needed to save him was a faint beating of his heart, even the weakest would do the trick. Thus, you focused on your task the best you could and drained yourself of most of your energy in the hope of seeing John reopening his magnificent blue eyes and offering you one of his beaming smiles. You were pretty sure that he would come back to life, just like the bird you had found in the garden two years ago. Yes, you were going to bring him back to life, and this awful nightmare would be over and you would all have a good fairy tale ending.

— But life wasn't like the tales you loved: his heart had stopped beating for too long for you to do anything. It had been only a matter of minutes but still, you came too late.

You came too late.

When you understood it, a river of tears streamed down your angelic face. One of your hands gently moved up to his throat, and you pressed two fingers on his carotid artery to check his pulse in a desperate and last attempt to feel something, but there was nothing. Only the dull silence of Death. You slowly backed off and looked at the surprisingly peaceful expression on his face, forever frozen by the Reaper's cold kiss.

John was gone.

And so was the sun.

✞ A little note now that you've finished this chapter: Heaven did not ignore poor Michael by the way. When walking past him she noticed that his wound was not as serious as John's, so she decided to check him after checking John.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ gif by the amazing @fkmylif3

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby

[igncrxntripley]

their secret weapon pt. 12

synopsis: the judgment day and y/n come to terms with their new reality, and y/n makes a new friend at NXT. 

a/n: READ IT AND WEEP SUCKERS. 

mentions: poly!judgment day, overall SFW, some cussing, some fighting, fem!reader, appearance of a...TBA metaphysical presence?

taglist: @thesithdiaries​ @cassiesgreta​ @roseheartsworld​ @theworldofotps​ @babybatlover​ @ripleyswhore​ @auburnwrites​ @obl1vionblackhart​ @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkin​ @embertargaryen​ @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname @i-have-issues-lol​ @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia​ @infamousvampcx​ @christinabae​ 

four people. professional wrestlers, who normally could keep their cool in any situation. but when they found out what had happened while y/n was in her meeting with hunter, those tough facades slowly faded away to expose what was hidden beneath the exterior. 

“she’s what?”

as soon as the group found that abandoned purple bandana and strolled into hunter’s makeshift office, all hell had broken loose. they listened as their boss gave them the rundown of the decision he’d made, sending their newest member on a bit of a break back to NXT so she had time away from them to figure out “who she was on her own.” the judgement day knew that was a load of shit, though; and they knew exactly who was behind this. 

dominik was pacing back and forth, damian sat with his head in his hands, and rhea and finn throwing question after question to hunter. “you’re joking, right?” rhea asked, echoing her previous statement. “y-you can’t just do that with no warning! that’s not fair!”

hunter watched the group with a straight look on his face. “i’m doing what i think is best for y/n, because what i’ve been seeing from her shows me that she needs to find herself and who she is in that ring. not under your influence.”

“no no no, you’re doing this because he doesn’t want her with us!” finn said. it was no secret edge, the man y/n had grown to recognize as a father figure after he and beth took her under their wing during her time in NXT, was the one behind this. he was going to break the group apart little by little, so why not start with the newest piece of the puzzle? “you’re letting his issues with us dictate y/n’s career and that’s not fair!”

“enough.” hunter’s voice boomed, the group deflating little by little as they realized this wasn’t a battle they were going to win right now. “I’ve made my decision and i’m sticking with it. y/n is going to be at NXT until wrestlemania is over, so the four of you can drop it. she’s going to be just fine without you, and if anything, she’ll come back better than before.” he gave one last look to the four individuals in front of him; four people, who under normal circumstances stood tall and with pride. but in this moment, they looked defeated and torn. something he wasn’t used to. “now please, go get ready for the show.”

as the four of them exited hunter’s office and made the slow walk back to their own dressing room, reality set in that the rated r superstar was sticking to his word and he was going to end what he started. he was going to pick this group apart, little by little and to their very core, until there was nothing left. 

that walk to their dressing room felt endless. like that missing presence that was their secret weapon left a wide open wound in their group that nothing would be able to replace. and as soon as the door closed behind them and the group was alone, that wound only continued to bleed. 

dom was the first to let his tears fall. as the youngest of the group besides y/n, he himself was still dealing with the highs and lows of this industry. he was also just a little more in check with his emotions, something he’d try to hide so he wasn’t seen as weak. but this time, he couldn’t help it. the poor thing couldn’t help but break the floodgates as damian pulled the young luchador into his lap. 

finn watched rhea carefully, her holding that purple bandana in her hand and her own tears started to run down her cheeks. “it’s not fair.” she whispered, the irishman pulling her into his side and kissing the top of his head. the eldest two members of the group were focusing on making sure the younger ones were okay, which was only breaking their hearts more. 

“i know it’s not.” finn said softly, rubbing his fingers through her short black hair. in that moment, he made a promise to himself and to his partners. one that he had every intention of keeping over the next couple of weeks until wrestlemania. 

“he’s going to pay for this.”

--- ---

getting the group to relax, specifically dom and rhea, was nothing short of exhausting for finn and damian. with the eldest two still trying to navigate their own thoughts and feelings over the situation, making sure their partners were okay was only adding to the weight they were both currently feeling. 

but finn found a few moments to himself, and even if he couldn’t be with y/n to ensure she was okay, he had someone at NXT who he knew would be more than willing to keep an eye on her. 

he found a dark corner for himself with some leftover sound equipment and dialed the number of an old protégé, who answered the phone with his own excitement. 

“heya finn, long time no talk!” the irish ace himself, jd mcdonagh, answered finn’s call as he packed his bag for the upcoming NXT taping. “what have you been up to?”

finn ran a hand over his face, balancing himself against the wall. “i’m good, lad.” the tone of his voice was enough of a sign to jd that something was up, so finn took a deep breath. “look, i need a favor to ask of you. i know you’re busy, you have your own stuff going on, but this is really important.”

jd sat up a little straighter, his old friend and mentor’s demeanor making him realize just how serious this was. “anything. what’s wrong?”

“so, you know we added y/n to the group awhile ago, yeah?” jd had known y/n during their time together in NXT, but they weren’t very close. a couple greetings and holding the door open for one another was about the extent of their interactions during their shared time at the developmental brand. “she’s going back to NXT for a little bit. not because she wanted to, but hunter and shawn are sending her back for a...a little break.”

jd raised his eyebrows and sat down on his bed. “oh, wow.” he sighed softly. “i’m sorry, finn. she seemed like she was doing really well with you guys. what happened?”

finn bit his lip as he tried to formulate a response to that question. “i mean, she has been. we’re still trying to figure everything out, but it came as a huge surprise.” he didn’t think it was the time to tell jd everything; at least not right now. “like i said, i know you’re busy, but for the next few weeks, just until mania is over, can you keep an eye on y/n at the PC?” he asked softly. “just...just make sure she’s okay. and please call or text me if anything comes up.”

“of course, anything you need.” jd answered immediately. finn had done a lot for him over the last few years, so this was the least he could do for the man he considered a close friend and mentor. “and if you need anything, please let me know? you sound exhausted, man.”

he was feeling exhausted. for a man who wore his feelings like a badge of honor, who dedicated himself to making sure his partners had what they needed, he was really starting to feel his own emotions and how heavy they’d become over the last few hours. “yeah. yeah, i will. thank you so much.”

--- ---

6 weeks. a little over a month. 

that’s all y/n kept telling herself as she sat in the NXT locker room, taping her wrists and reminding herself that she only had to ensure this torture for the next 6 weeks. 

the young wrestler wasn’t sure what to feel as she came back to the same place that had been her home only a few short weeks ago. sure, the performance center was full of a lot of great memories. but her coming back here was also a sign that she couldn’t hold up on the main roster yet, or at least that’s what this felt like. that she wasn’t ready to be on the same level as rhea or damian. 

y/n was nothing but a rookie. always has been, always will be. 

even though she was back in NXT for a couple of weeks, she knew she had people to rely on which would make this a little easier. johnny and candice were happily letting her stay with them since they were also floating back to the developmental brand for a month, and she had old pals that were happy to see her back in action with them. 

and her ex. one that she hit with a chair to cement her spot in the judgement day. but she wasn’t going there. that’s a wound she was going to keep stitched close during her new stint at the developmental brand. 

with this new stint at NXT, though, y/n found herself starting to learn the new locker room environment. even though she’d only been gone for a few months, things were already changing. new people were coming in to achieve their own dreams of being a WWE superstar, others were looking to move onto the main roster, some people were stuck in the middle. not only that, but y/n was trying to figure out where she was going to fit into this environment. 

“well well well, look what the cat brought back in.”

that irritating, nails on a chalkboard of a voice made y/n look up above her to see a barbie-pink ensemble and blonde hair staring down at her as if she was the dirt on the bottom of her pink boot. tiffany stratton, one of those new stars y/n had yet to meet, was standing right in front of the stranded member of the judgment day and clearly had no intention of leaving her alone. 

y/n sighed and ripped another piece of tape for her wrist. “get lost, tiffany. i’m not in the mood.” she had a match and wanted to take her time getting ready, getting into the appropriate headspace so she could show why she belonged on the main roster. tiffany had other plans, though. 

focus, little one. she isn’t worth your energy.

with her new placement at NXT, y/n had been...hearing things. it sounded odd, but she thought maybe she was just overwhelmed and taking everything to heart. sometimes she would feel so overcome with emotion that she seemingly lost control of her actions and would lash out, but just as fast as it came it was gone. y/n couldn’t explain it, but she was trying her hardest to push it away. tiffany wasn’t making it any easier though. 

“get lost?” tiffany scoffed and crossed her arms. “come on now, that’s not a very nice greeting. the least you could do is have a conversation with me.” she smirked down at y/n. “maybe you wanna talk about why you’re back? your gaggle of freaks don’t think you’re good enough to be apart of their group? hunter realized you don’t serve a purpose on the main roster?”

her blood was boiling. tiffany had no room to talk and had no clue what she was even talking about, and y/n wasn’t going to allow her to run her mouth. y/n stood up and tossed the roll of tape to the side, staring daggers into tiffany’s eyes. “you heard me loud and clear, tiffany.” she challenged, her voice lowering. “get. lost.”

tiffany chuckled to herself and got closer to y/n, their chests almost touching. “or what? you’re gonna send mamí after me? dom’s going to stop bullying his dad for five seconds to come save you?” y/n’s fists clenched at her sides, knowing that none of her little family was going to be able to come help her. tiffany was rubbing more and more salt into the wound without even realizing what had happened during her meeting with hunter. “you’re all on your own now, y/n. you’re the same nobody who left NXT to join a group of freaks who’s clearly washed their hands of you already.”

don’t listen to her. she only wants to get under your skin, love. 

y/n let out a soft growl before tiffany even finished talking, shoving the blonde away from her so she hit the row of lockers behind her. “mind your fucking business, and stay out of my face!” that same voice was back again, wanting y/n to defend herself and once again taking over her actions before she’d even realized what she’d done, her hands were back on tiffany and shoving her against the nearest wall again.  

jd was only walking through the hallways of the performance center, saying hello to coaches and producers so he could go get ready himself. but he was stopped in his tracks by the arguing coming from one of the locker rooms. when he took a peep inside to see y/n arguing with tiffany, he knew he needed to step in and do something; finn told him to look after y/n, so that’s what he had every intention of doing. even if it meant breaking up a fight. 

just as tiffany had shoved y/n right back and the two reached for each other once again, jd stepped into the locker room to break the two of them up. he wasn’t sure why they were fighting, but he saw the look in y/n’s eyes and knew tiffany struck some kind of nerve. the irishman stood in front of of y/n to keep her from launching herself at tiffany again, and he could feel the anger radiating off of her body. “okay, okay. tiffany, clearly y/n isn’t looking to talk so just go away.”

tiffany straightened herself out and smirked. “wow, she has a bodyguard already? someone moved on fast.”

“i swear-” y/n tried to move past jd as tiffany walked away, but he turned and held her arms. “hey hey! come on, don’t stoop to her level.”

y/n took a shaky breathe and ran a hand over her face, trying to calm her frustrations. even though tiffany was walking away, her words left y/n with a bubbling rage inside of her; one that wouldn’t even be there, if edge wouldn’t have gotten involved and sent her to NXT. one that she wouldn’t have, if she were standing side by side with her partners to help run the main roster. y/n was swimming in anger and frustration. and she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. 

jd turned around and backed up a bit to give y/n some space. “hey, you okay?” he asked softly. 

“i’m fine.” y/n mumbled, barely able to even look up at him. “listen, jd, i don’t know you very well and i don’t want you to get involved in whatever this shit is. okay? i’m just trying to lay low and get out of here.”

he wants to help. he’s a friend of the prince and wants to make sure you’re okay. 

even though she was right, the two didn’t know each other very well, jd already knew this wasn’t the same y/n that had worked her way up the roster for the last couple of years; this wasn’t the same y/n that was personally recruited by the judgment day themselves to join their faction. parts of that person was still there, but jd was looking at a partial shell of her. and he was worried to see what would come from this situation. 

the irish ace sat down on one of the benches. “you might not want me involved, but i know you getting into fights with people who aren’t worth your time is going to make this whole experience even worse.” he said, watching as y/n nervously bit her fingernails. “finn told me what happened. and i’m sorry you’re dealing with all of this. but finn cares about you so i care about you as well, and i’m going to make sure you get through the next few weeks until mania.”

y/n should’ve known finn was going to tell someone to keep an eye out for her. and while she would normally groan and complain about a partner having a babysitter for her, she had to admit that knowing finn cared this much eased some of that ache in her heart. 

she finally managed to look up at jd and gave him a small nod. “i appreciate that.” she said softly. “is..is finn okay? did you talk to any of the others?”

now jd’s heart was aching. the poor thing wasn’t worried about herself, she was worried about the four missing pieces to her heart. and he wasn’t going to stress her out and tell her everything finn told her over the phone. “they’re all upset. finn sounded pretty overwhelmed. but if you can get through the next few weeks then so can they. it’ll be over before you know it.”

“yeah, we’ll see about that.” she mumbled softly, sitting on the bench opposite jd’s. “thank you.” y/n nodded at him, jd reciprocating that before he stood up. 

“you know where i am if you need me.” he left the locker room. so y/n could focus on calming herself down a little bit more. six more weeks, she kept telling herself, trying to remind herself this wouldn’t be forever. 

your prince and his little family are worried about you, little one. but they want you to be strong. show everyone why they chose you, why you deserve to be with them. 

y/n rubbed at her temples, this voice only causing her head to throb with frustration and confusion. but for once she was choosing to listen, and whatever this was, she knew it was right. she could do this. she just needed to do what she’d always done, and continue to prove why she deserved her spot in this company. 

six. weeks. 

[silverzoomies]

Only Me

kyle spencer x reader smut

warnings: dubious consent, biting, kissing, shameless smut, undead kyle, zombie sex, zombie kink, halloween, song lyrics, dead dove: do not eat

word count: 6,205

a/n: hiiii !! halloween fic in june !! lol this one's my most bizarre fic yet probably !! i made kyle a lot more zombified than he was in the show !! if you're squeamish about corpses and wounds and stuff, i wouldn't tread any further !!

apologies for the usual: inconsistencies, characters ooc (kyle's a little more instinctive/aggressive here), clunky writing, etc etc etc

taglist: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz (as usual, ask to be added !!)

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

A full moon shined in a bright, stunning spectacle, high above Miss Robichaux’s Academy. A striking contrast to the black skies of a particularly cool Halloween night. Shrouded in a veil of evening darkness, the old-fashioned academy emitted an otherworldly glow. From the first floor windows, flashing lights of slime green and hellish orange flickered in endless repetition.

Inside, a small group of young witches danced. Dressed in their skimpiest costumes, they moved fluidly to the beat of Oingo Boingo’s Dead Man’s Party. Blaring loudly through a large set of speakers, the tune mingled with the girls’ laughter. Meanwhile, the older women of the academy socialized near cluttered snack tables. They chatted away with each other, paying no mind to their free-spirited students.

Dead Man’s Party.

An ironic song, you thought. Given the only ‘dead’ man in the room seemed beyond confused. You wondered if he even knew what the purpose of a party was. His Frankenstein brain might’ve forgotten parties entirely. Such a concept was also ironic. Considering, when he was alive, Kyle had attended enough frat parties to keep the beer industry thriving for years at a time.

The ancestral room felt alive with energy. You stood in a corner with your back against the wall, sipping overpriced punch Myrtle Snow had prepared herself. An unamused look crossed your face, as you watched Zoe and Madison dance. Their movements were effortless and intentionally suggestive.

Between them, looking out of place and somewhat lost, was Kyle. The zombified blond was hunched over in his loose-fitting flannel shirt. And his expression spoke of someone who had no idea what was happening around him. Unlike everyone else in the room, he hadn’t worn a costume.

Poor guy. It seemed like no one had warned him ahead of time.

There was an unmistakable tension in the air, as Madison and Zoe grinded their thin figures against Kyle. The indecent movements of their dancing were almost unbearable to watch. And you couldn’t help but recoil at the sight. The girls glared at each other, trying to outdo the other in a shallow competition for Kyle’s attention.

As Kyle stood there, he kept his head tilted down. His curly, blond hair fell into his face, and his eyes were blank and empty. Kyle must have been oblivious to the girls’ intentions. You felt a pang of discomfort in your chest at the thought.

“Jeez…it’s like I’m watchin’ a car crash in real time…and I can’t look away…” You said, sipping your punch.

Queenie, dressed in a dingy, striped sweater and a Freddy Krueger cap, leaned casually against the wall next to you. Her sweater fell loose off her shoulder, leaving it bare. She sipped her punch as she laughed, her Kreuger claws resting on her hip. Oingo Boingo echoed in the background, competing with the sound of her voice as she spoke.

“Those two are a wreck if I’ve ever seen one.” She joked, shaking her head, “Somebody’s gotta get in there and save that poor guy. Dude looks miserable. ”

“How pissed do you think they’d be if I cut in?” You asked. Glancing down at the lacy hem of your dress, you toyed with it idly in thought.

The pounding music in the room seemed to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Danny Elfman’s wavering voice echoed, booming throughout the floor.

I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walkin’ with a dead man, with a dead man

Your ruby red slippers twinkled on your feet. You wore an (admittedly) revealing Dorothy of Oz costume, with a blue dress lined with white lace. The skirt barely reached past your thighs, showing off your legs in thin, white stockings. You clutched a decorative picnic basket, with a plush, scottie dog sticking his head out from inside. His beady eyes shined in the party lights.

“You’d be doin’ Kyle a favor if you did. But, girl, I dunno…” Queenie pushed herself off the wall, “You know those two ain’t messin’ around. They’re feral over him. Listen, whatever you decide to do? It’s your funeral. We’ve all seen what happens when Madison loses her shit.”

Queenie sauntered off then, her hips swaying with each step. She joined Nan on the dance floor. And you let out a sigh, knocking your head against the wall. After watching Zoe and Madison’s shameful display for a few moments longer, you decided enough was enough. You pulled your phone from your basket to check the time. Only 6pm.

Gracing your ears in tune with the catchy beat of the song, Danny Elfman’s voice rang out.

Don’t run away, it’s only me

Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see

If your hunch was correct, neighborhood trick-or-treating had only just begun. And even though you and Kyle were well into adulthood, the thought of indulging in such an innocent, nostalgic activity was too enticing to resist. Halloween was a holiday wherein Kyle could blend in with the general population. And if you accompanied him, he’d finally get some reprieve from the constant objectification he was accustomed to. It was a win-win.

You waited a few more minutes, hoping the two girls would eventually tire of their petty competition. As time passed, Madison finally stumbled off in her heels. Presumably to have a smoke out back. Queenie, ever the helpful friend, pulled Zoe away for a dance. Leaving Kyle free of anyone’s clutches. Seizing your chance, you immediately stepped in. And you lead him upstairs to your room.

It took around ten minutes for the two of you to finally leave the academy for trick-or-treating.

Five minutes to patiently explain your plan to Kyle, trying your best to help him understand. And another five minutes to help him get ready, after struggling to clarify what Halloween was to begin with. You asked if he wanted to dress up in a costume. 

Kyle’s only response was a simple, slurred-

“W-Woooooolf.”

He then made an awroooo sound in an adorable attempt to mimic a wolf’s howl. It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen Kyle do. And hearing him make such a precious sound instantly melted your heart.

You took the time to chat with Kyle. And you joked that if you’d known ahead of time he wanted to be a wolf, the two of you could have coordinated costumes. Perhaps you could have gone as Little Red Riding Hood, and him as the big, bad wolf. Even though you weren’t sure if Kyle understood the reference, he gave you the sweetest smile nonetheless. In his undead eyes, you saw a sparkle of lingering humanity. You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling your heart melt just a little more.

Carefully guiding Kyle to the bathroom, you brought him in front of the mirror. Using a dark, eyeliner pencil, you drew a big, black dot on the tip of his nose. Then, with a steady hand, you doodled adorable, cartoon whiskers on his cheeks.

Which, in retrospect, made him look more like a cat than a wolf.

But Kyle seemed delighted with his new appearance regardless. He held his big hands up in front of the mirror, curling his fingers into claws. Kyle faked a snarl, scrunching his nose and showing off his pink-tinted teeth. The teeth of a dead man.

To your own surprise, you managed to sneak Kyle out of the academy without a single hitch.

For the next few hours, you lead him around a local neighborhood. As the two of you made your way down the street, you marveled at the eerie decorations at every house. Politely, you approached each doorstep, excitedly proclaiming, “ Trick-or-treat! ” while holding Kyle’s hand loosely in yours.

Thankfully, nobody seemed to mind that you two were well past the necessary age for trick-or-treating.

You stopped to explain the concept of Halloween to him once more, after he struggled to understand what trick-or-treating was. He furrowed his blond brows, as though deep in thought. Kyle made a frustrated grunt in response. You couldn’t help but smile, finding his confusion…strangely endearing. Everything about him was endearing, really.

Despite his initial confusion, Kyle definitely enjoyed the candy aspect of Halloween. The treats. His opaque eyes lit up with glee, and he held his pumpkin bucket up in front of you like a fabulous prize. You cheered him on, showing off your basket overflowing with goodies.

A thick mugginess in the air felt sticky against your skin. As the hour grew later, the air shifted to a sharper, colder chill. Crisp, autumn leaves fluttered in the breeze, twirling in colorful circles along the road. The once charming decorations at every house now appeared all too creepy in the dark. Illuminated only by a combination of moonlight, and the occasional streetlight; the neighborhood appeared desolate and empty. You wrapped an arm around yourself for security and warmth.

Perhaps it was time to return to the academy before things got any spookier.

Kyle loomed in close proximity to you all night. And as the hours passed, he leaned in even closer. Part of you began to question your assumptions about him. Perhaps you had misjudged. Maybe Kyle appreciated the constant attention Zoe and Madison gave him back at the academy.

His craving for physical touch was obvious. Every time you tried to create some space between the two of you, he pressed himself against you again. It became clear then, physical intimacy was something Kyle wanted on an almost constant basis. And given his limited communication skills, you figured he had no other way of expressing such a need. He stuck to your side like glue, walking with you throughout the cold, dark neighborhood.

You were reminded of that Oingo Boingo song. Dead Man’s Party.

I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walkin' with a dead man, with a dead man

Ooh-ooh, waitin' for an invitation to arrive

Ooh, walkin' with a dead man, with a dead man

Despite his proximity, Kyle’s body provided you with no warmth. You were left plagued by the nightly chill in the air. And out of nowhere, Kyle groaned, sounding displeased about… something. You didn’t know what. Worried it was your fault, you moved to give him more space. Kyle appeared even more annoyed then. He choked on words he couldn’t say. And you stopped in your tracks on the sidewalk. Gazing at him with concern in your eyes, you tried to deduce what the problem was.

“Hey, K-” You started.

Before you could ask him, Kyle reached out a hand. He stared down at you with black, cloudy eyes. Between his pale, grey lips rested a half-eaten candy bar. His fingers were covered with sticky chocolate. And he made a move to pull the collar of your low-cut dress down.

“Oh! Wh-...Kyle!! What are you doing, honey?!” You shrieked in hushed surprise.

At that moment, something must have clicked in Kyle’s Frankenstein brain. Some kind of instinctive shift.

Even though he loved his candy, chocolate wasn’t necessarily the kind of Halloween treat he wanted. He pulled the chocolate bar from his lips, tossing it aside into the grass.

“Treeeaat…” He slurred, with his pale, chapped lips coated in chocolate. Kyle tugged the front of your dress down even lower, “Tr…tr-trick…or treeeat?”

Your breasts almost popped out from the force of his strong tug. The swell of them bounced in a mesmerizing display, looking supple and smooth. Smears of chocolate stained the clean, white lace of your dress. Gasping, you backed up before Kyle could do anymore damage. You stumbled on your sparkling, ruby slippers. As you struggled to find your balance, Kyle eagerly followed. He pushed his strong body against yours, leaning down to kiss you.

“Kyle, no! N-Not that I mind, if this is what you want! But…can you at least wait until we get home, bud?” You protested, bringing a hand to his mouth to stop him.

You were fearful of any late-night passerby catching the two of you in such a compromising position. Kyle knit his brows together, put off by your rejection. You gave him a sympathetic look, and lowered your hand.

Whatever you said before, none of it registered. Kyle abruptly attacked your neck with his mouth, and you sucked in a sharp breath. His lips were frigid and cold against your skin, their rough, chapped texture scraping across your neck. Reveling in your taste, he hungrily swirled his cool, slimy tongue.

“Honey, no-...s-stop! You can’t-” You pathetically whined, patting him repeatedly on the shoulders to get his attention.

Kyle devoured your neck like a Halloween treat, sloppily tonguing your smooth, warm skin. You squirmed as he wrapped his thick arms around you tightly, pulling you closer. The entire weight of Kyle’s body pressed itself into yours. Dead weight. You lost your balance again, stumbling backwards. And without meaning to, you slipped off your feet behind a nearby lining of bushes.

Taking a tumble, Kyle came down with you. He immediately took advantage of your vulnerable position on the ground, crawling over your body. Even as you continued to protest, Kyle’s attention returned to your neck. He nipped at your skin, flicking his sticky tongue in a desperate thirst for more of you. Underneath your body, you felt dewey grass seep wetness into your dress. You squirmed again, hesitant to give in to Kyle’s reckless desire.

“Pleaaaase! Just let me-...Kyle, please, help me up, won’t you?” You begged in a desperate plea.

He groaned a throaty noise into your soft neck, and his hands began to explore your body. Fighting to maintain your dignity, as well as your modesty; you made another move to push Kyle off of you. Your hands pressed hard at his thick shoulders, but he refused to budge.

“I’m serious! If you wanna do this together, we can, okay? Just…not here! This is…it’s a neighborhood, right? What if someone sees?? Let’s just wait until we get home, please?” You insisted, “Kyle, p-

Unexpectedly, he cut you off (or shut you up, rather) with a surprise kiss. 

Lips of a muted, grey hue collided with your own, more saturated ones. A kiss of life and death. Kyle’s lips were ice cold, molding effortlessly with your warmth. He tasted of a bizarre mix between cheap, dollar store chocolate and…something else you didn’t recognize. Something almost…earthy.

He was the sloppiest kisser you ever locked lips with. Prodding at your lips fiercly with his tongue, Kyle demanded entrance. When you didn’t let him in, a frustrated growl vibrated through his mouth. His hand darted down to your chest, where he tugged the front of your dress with an even stronger pull. Threatening to rip it apart, as though he knew you would protest.  

You opened your mouth with a surprised squeak, scrambling to pull Kyle’s hand away.

That oozy, freezing tongue of his slithered its way past your lips like a wiggly leech. Thick and slimy in your mouth. Kyle’s kisses became filled with a wild and unrestrained passion. Even though such a messy makeout session would be off-putting to anyone else, you found yourself melting into it. Despite having no concept of restraint or consistency, Kyle’s lack of skill was somehow intoxicating. You were irresistibly drawn to his discolored, dead man tongue.

You couldn’t help but think of how you always admired the way he looked.

When he was alive, Kyle was undeniably stunning, and so gorgeous. He had one of those beautiful, sunshine smiles, and golden hair to match. But after his resurrection, he was viewed as somewhat of a monster. Since the initial work done to bring him back had been less than subpar. To the average person, Kyle looked like a walking corpse pulled straight out of Night of the Living Dead.

However, Kyle’s zombified appearance did nothing to deter you. In death, you found him attractive in about a million other, more forbidden ways. Perhaps you were a bit of a freak behind closed doors.

And now, you had the opportunity to appreciate Kyle, in all his reanimated glory. Allowing yourself to explore his bulky, undead form. Corpse-like in appearance, Kyle’s body seemed right on the cusp of decay.

Maybe you could indulge in your curiosity and unconventional attraction…for just a few minutes. A moment or two wouldn’t hurt. Kyle was obviously desperate for the attention anyway. It was almost cute, really. The way he fought so hard to fool around with you.

Yeah. A few minutes of teasing touches. And then, you’d surely head back to the academy together.

You hesitated to touch Kyle intimately at first, careful not to cross any personal boundaries.

You knew Kyle harbored strict boundaries somewhere in that Frankenstein brain of his. Misty had told both you and Zoe all about it. Though, none of you had any clue where such boundaries originated. Was Kyle somehow self conscious? Did his instincts operate on a more intense, animalistic level of fight or flight? There wasn’t any way for him to tell you, and you’d never be able to guess on your own. Best to tread lightly.

Kyle loomed over you, guzzling your lips and tongue like a hungry man starved. Raising a hand, the tips of your fingers took a careful chance. They brushed across the poorly sewn stitches in his neck. Grazing his prominent scars, you traced their irregular lining.

You were afraid he might recoil, but Kyle instantly melted into your touch. His shoulders fell slack for a moment, and he moaned a soft, little whine into your mouth. It was as if tracing the scarred etching of stitches brought him some sense of relief.

A trail of thick, gooey saliva connected your tongues, as Kyle pulled his lips from yours. He gazed down into your eyes with a soft expression. The cute dot you'd drawn on his nose was slightly smudged now, along with those kitty wolf whiskers. You noted the way his hefty form looked, illuminated by a faint blanket of warm, yellow light. The street light flickered from above, as if threatening to abandon the two of you in the dark.

You stared back into Kyle’s foggy eyes. They were somewhat empty of humanity, with black pupils blown wide. His brawny chest became exposed, as you unbuttoned the thick flannel of Kyle’s shirt. Trembling fingers felt across his pecs, your skin burning hot against Kyle’s lifeless cold. He shuddered under your touch, arching his back slightly.

“W-Waaarm.” He slurred, “Mooore…”

Patches of discoloration decorated Kyle’s broad torso. They reminded you of a tropical desert map. One in which Kyle’s pale skin was the desert sand. Portions of his flesh had turned yellow in color. Faint hues of deep purple and sea-foam blue leaked through, similar to a watercolor palette. You ran your fingers over the discolored patches of skin, feeling subtle, textural changes. Kyle’s skin was overall smooth, but slightly torn near his ribs.

“Stop me if-uh…if this hurts, okay?” You whispered in a soft tone. Kyle tilted his head, the blonde curls of his hair dangling over his face.

Morbid curiosity overcame you, as you momentarily delved deeper into Kyle’s ripped flesh. The texture of his skin was uneven, as the surrounding skin had dried out slightly. Hesitant, yet alarmingly eager, you dipped your fingers into a decaying wound close to his ribs. Keeping your eyes on Kyle’s face, you searched his expression for any signs of discomfort. Beyond the scabbed edges of his skin, your fingers found a cold, mushy cavern inside.

You felt the cold rigidity of his rib bones just beneath the surface, the dampness of his insides slimy and raw. Kyle’s breathing steadily grew labored the longer you explored him from the inside. His jaw fell slack, dark eyes rolling back in his deep sockets. After teasing the wound for a few beats longer, you pulled your digits from it. A warm blush pooled in your cheeks, and you exhaled a flustered laugh. Ashamed of yourself.

“S-Sorry, honey…” You apologized, “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Kyle whimpered in response, wildly shaking his head. A slimy stickiness lingered on the tips of your fingers. And you made a mental note to thoroughly wash your hands once you finally returned to the academy.

You explored Kyle’s peculiar body for a moment longer. Beautiful, blue veins were visible under the thin layer of his skin. You traced those veins, following their intricate, web-like patterns. Kyle’s eyes fell closed as you did. He hummed soft, submissive whines. His head occasionally jerked in sudden, instinctive motions. After opening his eyes, Kyle stared down at you with a more lax, half-lidded expression.

You noted the way his eye sockets were slightly sunken in, appearing almost skeletal. A smokey darkness surrounded his foggy, black eyes, making them pop when they widened with abrupt impatience.

Growing fed up with your slow-paced, careful touches, Kyle darted down. He returned to his original task, gnawing pink teeth against the burning flesh of your neck. Your blood pulsed under your skin, beating against his slimy tongue. You brought your hands up to his blonde curls, carding your fingers through the somewhat-ragged locks.

Kyle’s hair was clean and washed. Yet, the strands felt like those of an old, decrepit dog. Curls dangled in his face as he mouthed your neck, and Kyle sloppily licked the bruises he sucked harshly into your skin. He pulled at your skimpy outfit, tearing rotted, jagged fingernails into the cheap fabric. Exposing your bra-covered breasts, Kyle ripped the front of your dress apart in one, harsh jerk. You wrapped a hand around his wrist, fighting to pull it away before Kyle tore your bra off as well.

“WAIT! Kyle, no! You can’t, honey!! I-It’s cold out here!! And someone might see!!” You insisted, “B-Before we do that, let’s go back home first!”

You were in too deep now, that much was obvious.

He jerked his hand away from your hold, groaning in protest. Kyle brought his massive palm to your chest, curling his fingers into your bra. He ripped the garment apart, letting your tits bounce freely. Immediately upon seeing them in their lucious, supple glory, Kyle made another noise. A groggy, throaty sound dripped from his tongue, drooling cool saliva over your breasts. He didn’t hold back, dropping to swipe his sticky tongue hungrily around one of your nipples. 

“T-T…T….Treeeeeeeat…” Kyle groaned, ragged over your breast.

You whimpered, your nipples immediately hardening in response to his numbing, chilly touch. Your hands dropped to Kyle’s broad shoulders again, as you attempted once more to push him away. Ruthless with desire, Kyle licked and sucked your tits, as though thirsty for the milk you couldn’t provide.

By now, Kyle was handling you a little more roughly than you preferred.

As the dull flats of Kyle’s teeth sank into your flesh, biting hard; you were beginning to second guess yourself. Kyle chomped into your smooth skin like he wanted to rip you apart and feast on your blood. You wiggled from under him, trying to shimmy away. The hand of his not occupied with your breast, darted up to your shoulder. Kyle forced you down with his palm, keeping you in place. Mesmerized by the pheromones permeating from your pretty breasts, Kyle couldn’t stop himself. He gnawed your tit even harder.

And for you, that bite crossed a line.

Imprints of Kyle’s teeth were left embedded into your skin. Weakly raising your basket, you fought Kyle off, repeatedly whacking him on the shoulders with it. Candy flew out from the basket in every direction. In the back of your mind, you mourned their loss.

No matter how much you fought, Kyle refused to budge. If anything, your protests encouraged him further. Kyle grew more frustrated, growling monstrous noises into your tits as he sucked one hard. He scraped his teeth up to your collarbone, chomping into your skin so harshly you nearly cried.

“Stoooppp!!! Please!!! Kyle, sweetheart, that hurts!!” You pathetically begged, tears pricking in the corners of your eyes, “Please stop!! It’s not good, Kyle! It’s very bad!”

He shook his head wildly with another animalistic growl, keeping you caged under his body in the wet grass. Kyle moved himself further down your squirming form, jerking the skirt of your dress up over your belly. The tiny, lace panties you wore underneath were exposed to him completely, along with a shameful, wet spot between your legs.

“Noooo! Good… v-very good …” Kyle grumbled, frustrated. He sank down between your legs, enveloping your clothed pussy with his whole mouth.

Goosebumps shot across your thighs as his cold breath met your cunt. Kyle’s teeth roughly grazed you, his slimy tongue prodding your folds through the thin fabric of your panties. You instantly panicked, kicking his shoulders with all the might you had left.

Kyle violently tore your delicate panties off, ripping the fabric at the seams and leaving you bare. Crisp, late-night air nipped your poor, defenseless pussy. Fearful that Kyle might start chomping at your cunt like a corpse in search of brains, you quickly rolled onto your belly in the grass. You crawled forward on trembling limbs, your veins pumped full of adrenaline. 

“L-Let me go, Kyle! No more! We gotta get back now!! P-Please!” You cried, rushing forwards with your knees pressing into the dirt.

Kyle came charging after you on all fours, his movements similar to that of a vicious, feral predator. The panic swarming your brain heightened, surging down your spine. Your heartbeat kicked to high-speed. Scrambling to stand, you were faced with the unfortunate reality…that your legs were too shaken and weak to function.

Your thin stocks were stained with mossy green, as wet dew seeped into their fabric. Just as you made it to the sidewalk pavement, you felt the tight grasp of cold hands wrapping around your ankles. Your ruby slippers kicked frantically against Kyle’s hold. But his grip tightened around them. Kyle dragged you by your ankles behind the bush in the dark, his jagged, rotting nails sinking into your skin over your stockings and scratching holes in the fabric.

That Oingo Boingo tune stuck on repeat in your head, echoed eerily topical lyrics in your subconscious mind. Don’t run away, it’s only me

Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see

Don’t run away, it’s only me

Don’t be afraid of what you can’t see

You couldn’t hold back the terrified scream that leapt from your throat.

Kyle’s eyes flew open wide. He moved quickly, climbing over your body from behind. Reaching around to clasp a large, cold hand over your mouth, Kyle growled chilly breaths into the shell of your ear. You could feel the hard press of his sizable bulge against your ass.

You barely registered the sound of Kyle’s hushed, throaty voice shushing you, as you cried for him to stop in loud pleas. He whispered in your ear gentle, slurred reassurances…or, at least, he tried to. Kyle apologized repeatedly, mouthing your ear and neck in a more loving, yet clumsy way. Less teeth. Thank fuck for less teeth.

“S-Ssssss-...sooorry.” He mumbled slowly, “N-N…N….Neeeeed…”

Trying to calm yourself, you breathed long, deep breaths through your nose.

Realistically, you knew Kyle never intended to hurt you. And if he did, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. He was a creature who operated purely on animalistic, carnal instinct. His brain functioned at a process slower than the average person. Like Frankenstein’s monster. Of course, it should come as no surprise. If Kyle desired something as natural as sex, his thirst was bound to make him slightly more deranged.

Maybe he just hadn’t been taught otherwise.

With one of his hands clasped tightly over your mouth, Kyle brought his other to his jeans. He felt around aimlessly for the button, finding it difficult to free his cock from the constrictive denim. After a bit of agitated fumbling, Kyle finally released his hefty, undead cock from his pants. Perched in the grass on your elbows and knees, you curiously dropped your head to take a glance at his dick.

You were lucky enough to catch a quick glimpse of Kyle’s thick, bouncing cock. It was discolored like the rest of his body, and covered in vivid, blue veins. In your mind, you questioned the logistics. How was it even possible for a zombified man to get an erection?? Was it witch magic? Was witch magic really powerful enough to keep oozy, undead blood flowing through a zombie?

Kyle mounted you much like an animal in heat, guiding the fat tip of his cock to your weeping entrance.

The stark contrast between his corpse-like temperature and your own, more lively warmth shook you to your core. You gasped into Kyle’s palm, your lower-half squirming as the deathly cold, smooth length of his cock pushed its way through your searing walls. Your pleasant heat engulfed Kyle’s dick completely, and he immediately roared a guttural noise from deep in his chest.

“T-Trrrreeeeeeeeeeeeaaat!” He slurred in a broken tone, “ G-...G….Gooood treat.”

Those were the last, coherent words Kyle spoke, before carnal instinct took over his brain completely. He violently jerked his hips forward, sinking his stiff cock deeper into your pussy. The leaking, wet tip hit your cervix in a bruising pressure. You fell forward into the grass, almost losing balance on your trembling legs. Kyle released his hold on your mouth, instead raking his blunt, uneven nails down your body.

Pumping his cock through the tight squeeze of your cunt, Kyle dropped his palms to the grass. His brittle nails dug themselves so deep into the dirt.

“K-Ky-” You choked, feeling a thickness bubbling in your throat, “Kyle, please-”

The slickness of his length felt inhumanly cold inside you. Your blistering hot pussy constricted around him, grasping hold of Kyle’s cock and pulling him in deeper. He wanted so desperately to gnaw and bite you again, but he refrained from doing so. Kyle made huffy, monstrous noises as he fucked you raw and hard in the grass. Guttural, zombie-like groans echoed, ragged against your ear from behind. He carried no restraint, as he drilled you with his dick so hard and deep, it began to hurt.

Your entire body buzzed with sharp, pinpricks of overwhelming pleasure, edging so closely to pain. But somehow, you registered the ache as intoxicating. Your body couldn’t stop itself from betraying your brain’s warnings. Despite your suffering, your pussy fluttered so wet around Kyle’s cock. Hot, slick heat made it so easy for him to fuck you as hard as he desired. Allowing him to act on his unfiltered, baseless instincts.

“P-Please-...Ky-...Kyle…slow down, please-” You begged, mewling little cries.

Your soft voice only encouraged Kyle. His thrusts turned more violent and rapid, losing any consistency. Heavy balls slapped repeatedly at your hot mound, teasing your clit. Out of your control, your eyes rolled back in their sockets, as you moaned in blissful ecstasy.

Kyle’s nasty, unrelenting thrusts were so powerful in force, the overstimulation was enough to make you cum from penetration alone. Your fiery heat tightened around his pulsing cock, and your body erupted in a mind-altering onslaught of uncontrollable, orgasmic trembles. Kyle roared another guttural, monstrous sound, unable to resist sinking his blunt teeth into your neck. He wrapped an arm tightly around your middle, jerking you backwards to meet his thrusts.

“Kyle, wait!” You struggled to speak, your head dizzy and swimming. Turning your head slightly, you felt Kyle’s messy, blond hair brush the skin of your cheek, “Don’t finish inside! You have to – f-fuck – you have to pull out! You can’t cum inside me, baby!”

Your ass bounced recklessly against the hairy mound of Kyle’s pelvis. If he understood what you meant, it was clear Kyle had no intention of listening. Burying his length to the hilt in one, final, savage thrust; Kyle spilled his sticky, zombie seed deep inside your hot, living pussy.

“N-NO! KYLE, NO-” You panicked again, trying to crawl forward and out of Kyle’s grasp, “FUCK! YOU CAN’T-”

He roared his loudest noise yet, the sudden sound tearing through your eardrums. Latching a palm tightly around the back of your neck, Kyle forced you face down into the dewey grass. With your ass up and out, he fucked the last of his cum into your pussy with a near damaging force. A frigidly cold sensation pooled in the pit of your belly.

For a short moment, Kyle kept his slick cock buried inside you. Even as the length softened, he took his time before pulling himself from your cunt. And once he finally did, the thickness of his off-colored, oozy cum came spilling out of you in heavy spurts.

As it turns out, zombies cum a lot.

You shivered, sniffling as hot tears raced down your reddened cheeks. Kyle released his hold on your neck, reaching up to pet you clumsily over your hair. Behind you, you heard shuffling as he fought to tuck himself in his pants and fumbled with the button. Your knees collapsed into the grass, and you heaved rapid, frantic breaths. You couldn’t deny the way your body quivered with blissful, euphoric exhaustion.

“Kyle…for fuck’s sake…why…” You sniffled with a hiccup, lying with your cheek pressed to the grass.

Several bite marks of deep, dark violet littered your once clean skin. You rolled onto your back on the ground, your chest rising and falling with every quick breath you took. Kyle sat back on his knees, staring down at you with an expression of fearful, worried confusion. It seemed that, somehow, he didn’t understand why you were so immobile and worn out.

Kyle’s black eyes steadily trailed across every mark he left behind, all over your neck, collarbone, and breasts.

He frowned, his foggy eyes pooling with heavy tears. The whiskers and nose you’d drawn on his face earlier were smeared to high heaven, leaving black streaks on his cheeks.

Crawling over you again, Kyle gently buried his teary-eyed face in your tits. He pressed soft, cool kisses along your abused skin. Before resting his cheek on your chest. His thin, blonde curls tickled your chin.

“S-S…ssssorry… ” He mumbled through his tears. Kyle rubbed his thumb across one of the bites he left behind, making you wince, “B-Baaaad…not gooood…sorry…” 

Despite his rough handling, you knew you couldn't stay mad at Kyle for very long. In a way, he'd made you feel pleasure beyond anything you ever experienced with an average, living man. And the loving kindness he carried under the surface of his monstrous exterior made you adore him. So much more than you already did.

You let out a long, tired sigh, raising a hand to gently run your fingers through Kyle's curls.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh? It's okay, honey. It hurt a little bit, but...I'm fine. Just..." You breathed an exhausted laugh, wincing as you tried to move, "Let's try to teach you a little restraint next time, okay?"

If you thought about it logically, there was no possible way you could actually get pregnant from a reanimated corpse, right? His swimmers were probably dead as doornails. Regardless, you felt a little squeamish knowing loads of gooey, zombie spunk resided inside you. You shivered at the thought, shaking your head.

Yeah, you definitely needed a long, hot shower. Asap.

"Can we please go home now, Kyle?" You begged, weakly sitting up on your elbows.

Peering up at you through adorable, innocent, dark eyes, Kyle blinked slowly. He nodded, pushing himself quickly off your body.

"H-Hhhhhh-....Hoooome..." He mumbled, politely holding out a hand to help you up.

You found yourself too incapacitated to stand. After such a raw, violent fucking, your body felt on the brink of death. Consumed by exhaustion, it was as though you'd become the living corpse. Undead and barely functional. Falling into the grass on your back, you groaned, burdened by a deep ache in your bones.

Catching on to your pained, tuckered-out state, Kyle reached down. He wrapped his thick arms around your body, effortlessly lifting you up over his shoulder. It was a ridiculously careless way for him to carry you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to complain.

In one hand, Kyle held his pumpkin bucket and your basket, both slightly empty of the candy they once held. With your limp body lying slump over his shoulder, he used his other hand to keep your skirt pinned over your butt. Nice of him to consider your decency. 

In the empty, desolate cold of a moonlit, Halloween night; Kyle carried you all the way back to the academy.

And the whole way, as you hung limp over his shoulder in a fucked-out daze...you hummed a song softly to yourself.

Oingo Boingo kept looping endlessly in your head, like a persistent parasite.

I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walking with a dead man over my shoulder

I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go

Walking with a dead man over my shoulder

[thatfreshi]

Always (Uni AU P. 16)

Thank you all for patiently waiting :)

tw - mentions of abuse, grooming

Your eyes flutter open slowly, unsure of exactly where you are. When you move your head, you feel the bone in Astarion's shoulder, and remember the night prior. When you realize you indeed were asleep on him, you jerk back up.

"What time is it?"

"Almost six. You must've been tired."

He puts his phone down and sits his head on his knees.

"You alright?"

"Just not looking forward to today. Twelve-hour day, nine to nine, no breaks."

"Sounds horrible."

"It does, doesn't it? And I haven't slept in days either."

He gets out of bed reluctantly and goes to the closet, almost tripping over nothing.

"You could probably spare some time to lay down a little longer."

"No, sadly I can't. The location is an hour away, I still have to get ready, and I have to pick up some things on the way. All of that and maybe find time to eat something."

He methodically looks through the many fabrics, finding a silk dress shirt. Thoughtlessly, Astarion throws off the sweater from yesterday, revealing what appears to be many scars across his back.

"Holy shit."

You don't mean for the words to stumble out the way they do, but it's not often you see someone's skin decorated in old wounds.

"Right, forgot I hadn't told you about all of those. Though to be honest, I've never seen them."

He quickly puts on his newly chosen shirt, fiddling with the buttons on the sleeves.

"Are they-"

"From Cazador? Of course."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he do it?"

He stops in his tracks, dumbfounded once again by you and your questions.

"I mean, there's always plenty of reasons to him. Misstep on the catwalk, look the wrong way in a photo, make him look bad in front of someone else in the industry. He does his punishments in private obviously, but you always know when you're due for one. Always."

Light steps make their way to the kitchen to get some coffee. You follow, silently.

"Sorry. I know I have more of a stomach for this kind of thing than you do."

"You shouldn't have the stomach for it at all."

"You think I don't know that?"

He turns to meet your eyes, and then sighs, leaning against the counter.

"Really, I am sorry. I'm just very irritable right now."

"Anything I can do?'

"No, I think I just need to be by myself, for the little time I have. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

He perks up at that.

"Why?"

"I mean, none of this is your fault. No need to apologize about things out of your control. Besides, I ask about all of it anyways. If you need alone time, you need alone time."

He's so used to 'sorry's, even if they aren't always genuine. Sorry when he's at Cazador's whim, sorry to people he's looped into horrific schemes, sorry any time he fucks up. Most recently, he's so incredibly apologetic to you, the way he's fallen for you, the way he can't bring himself to leave you alone, the way you always ask about the worst of it and he almost always shares. That look in your eyes when you see him hurt, he's been trying to avoid it, because it makes him feel monstrous.

"Anyways, I hope it's not all that bad today. If you need something, let me know, okay?"

You grab all your things from the night before, and make your way towards the door.

"Okay. Thank you Tav."

You smile.

"Of course Aster, anything for you, any time, anywhere. Always."

He almost says something when you walk out the door, but simply has his mouth agape, watching you walk away after saying probably the nicest thing he's heard in years.

When you make your way back to your dorm room, you hear shouting from inside, which you can only assume is Shadow and Lae arguing again. Then, when you walk in, you realize it's actually Gale's voice going back and forth with your moody roommate. Lae'zel seems to be absent from the dorm.

"Gale, you can't be fucking serious. You're sleeping with a professor? Not just any professor, but Mystra? Really? Are you that fucking stupid?"

"We are not just sleeping together, it's a real relationship. We have something special Shadowheart, not that you would particularly understand that."

"No, no you don't have something special with her, she's using you. You work for her, she's your teacher! She can decide your entire academic future on a whim!"

"No one better to fall in love with then, right?"

"Oh, fall in love? You, you are not in love with her, and she is certainly not in love with you. She's using you and your naivety Gale."

You hear her voice crack at this point, the concern for her best friend seeping through.

"Oh, so I'm naive now? Great to know you think so highly of me Shadow. You were begging me to tell you, I thought you'd be happy for me!"

"I'm not listening to this. When you want to have a real conversation, and not just make me feel like I'm crazy for worrying about you, come and find me."

Her door slams, and she storms past you in the living space, rushing out of the dorm. Gale slowly makes his way out of her room, not expecting you to be waiting.

"And now you know too, wonderful. Are you also going to call me insane for being in love, or are you capable of being reasonable?"

No words come to mind. Instead of sitting around waiting for a response, he walks right past you, off to brood in his room alone. You decide to try and find your roommate, just to make sure she's alright, and possibly get the rest of the story. Despite your efforts, you find none of your strange friends. It's as if campus has been entirely deserted. With the new chill in the air as Fall becomes even more intense, you find yourself feeling lonely, and even sad. So, you do what any other reasonable college student would, and you go grab a coffee and throw yourself into some assignments.

Essays, discussion boards, projects, powerpoints, they all sort of just blur together. Word counts become meaningless, rubrics are like unspeakable languages, emails are a life-sucking endless void of nothing. You close your laptop and stare at the ceiling, wondering why you're even sad to begin with, why all of this seems like treacherous work. Your mind floats back to Astarion, as it often does. Perhaps he was the cause of your melancholy, him and all the scars you had seen that morning. But now it's hours later, close to nightfall, and you barely have anything to show for it.

That's when Karlach and Gale show up, which helps you snap out of the mood a little bit.

"She'll come around Gale! I may not get it, but hey, we all just gotta do our own thing."

The two of them sit at your lonely little table, and Gale sighs.

"Well Tav, how's the rest of the day been?"

"Uneventful. Sad. Boring."

Gale nods in agreement.

"Oh cheer up you two! There's still time left in the night, things can get better!"

You can't help but crack a smile.

"You know what Karlach? You're right, and just for that, I'm going to get us all a little treat."

The two of them insist that you shouldn't, but you're already walking off to the coffee bar that's going to close soon. You buy a couple of stupid little candies, just to make sure everyone will have something they enjoy. You thank the barista and walk back to the table. On the way, you feel at your pocket for your phone, but it's not there.

"Must've left it at the table."

And you were right, because when you look back up Karlach is receiving a call on your phone. You walk over to try and figure out who she possibly could've answered, mouthing a question to her. She tells you to shush, her eyes far more serious than normal.

"What do you mean he's in the hospital?"

Her voice cracks when she asks, and without thinking you snatch your phone out of her hands.

[sapphsorrows]

Opinion on Blair White? (I personally think she’s iconic)

I have such mixed feelings about him because I've been watching him since 2017.

He definitely contributed to me thinking that there were actually "true trans" people out there, and it was only until this year that I realized no, no one is trans, and at the end of the day there is no difference between Blaire and the "cringe" trans people on tiktok that he criticizes. Blaire categorizes someone who is "truly trans" as (1) someone who was "trans from a young age" (whatever that means) and (2) someone who has medicalized.

That is a very low bar. Basically anyone can say they believed something at an early age. It's an unfalsifiable claim. Also, LOTS of people he dunks on have medicalized and would therefore be "truly trans." Even fucking Chris Chan has medicalized, even if he just used estrogen cream and gave himself a self-inflicted taint wound, trying to create an "unclit," as he called it. Most of the trans people he has "debated" have also medicalized.

I think there is a great sadness to Blaire. He's talked about how he was sexually assaulted, and it seems to be he has a lot of internalized homophobia, especially around the fact that he is a very feminine gay man. I feel like he transitioned (1) to escape the trauma and (2) to escape his own homophobia. I'm really glad he seems to have found a partner who loves him for him, though, but like... I wish he could realize he could have done that without trying to be a woman, something he will literally never be.

I do still watch his videos occasionally and in many ways I love his energy BUT I wish he could be sassy and feminine... without appropriating womanhood. And I know he says "I'm a male/I'm a man" all the time but we all know which restroom he uses and buddy it is not the men's.

I definitely feel like he's trying to control the narrative of trans. Trans, at this point, is a sinking ship. LGBT acceptance is going down specifically because of trans cray. He's willing to sacrifice the (mostly) mentally ill trans people on tiktok in order to prop himself up as "one of the good ones". He claims to be gender critical... but still claims to be a transwoman. He wants to have his cake and eat it too.

Being trans is literally his career. He is a millionaire because he is trans. He was able to pay for all his surgeries because he is a well-known trans figure who rakes in a ton of youtube money. If the whole industry goes down, he won't have a job, and he won't be able to continue having surgery and taking hormones. The end of trans would be the end of Blaire.

Sorry this is so long, like I said I have a lot of feelings.

(PS: I find his interview with Shapeshifter SO fascinating. Here is Shapeshifter, dressed as femme as Blaire White, saying that he went through the whole process of being trans, even to the point where he cut his penis off, and he says "I am a man, I was never a woman, I was never trans." Blaire still has his penis and insists that he is "truly trans.")

[ronearoundblindly]

Sweet requests 💙 I would love some sweet Jake Jensen or Steve Rogers. Reader and then have been fighting, and reader is ready to give up, but their man won’t let them. Please and thank you!

Rerouted, a Jake Jensen x Reader tale

Warnings for some language and innuendo, angst, kinda hurt/comfort due to miscommunication and insecurities. WC 2.7k

Summary: Vacation with your boyfriend is a disaster.

You’ve had smoother starts to vacations, that’s the truth.

Delayed flights. Turbulence. Arriving before check-in with a raging headache.

Jake did his (awkward) damnedest to sweet-talk the desk clerk to let you both into the room early, but his attempts failed and you put those thick headphones right back on and crashed on a lobby chair. You feel his bouncing leg shake the cushions gently as he sits guard over your luggage.

Though your head feels a little better, you need to shower before any real relaxation can happen. You shuffle your feet on the industrial hallway carpet and stare at the back of Jake’s sneakers.

The heavy steel door smacks you hard in the arm when he lets go just at the moment you turn to adjust the rollers of your bag.

“Dammit,” you hiss.

“Shit, babe, are you okay?”

It takes every fiber of your being to simply respond, “yeah.”

You immediately announce your intention to hog the bathroom for a nice long cleanse of your body, mind, and soul.

Jake asks for five minutes first.

Sure. Poop all you want, bud. It’s not like your very first international getaway as a couple has gone swimmingly so far…

You try some stretches to relieve a kink in that weird place below your neck and between your shoulders but not quite over your spine. Worst spot ever. Maybe the shower can heal all travel wounds?

Your boyfriend gives you the all-clear, but you didn’t even hear him close the door or flush. Whatever. He knows it’s your territory now. A forfeit is a forfeit.

A long while later you emerge a modicum improved with a clear head and the memory of not charging your toothbrush overnight. You had to sacrifice a cute beach coverup to make space for the charger. No matter because you’ve got time now.

You change into one of your swimsuits and a light maxi dress, throwing out a comment that some drinks poolside might be a good jumpstart to the trip, but Jake doesn’t move. He’s playing on his laptop.

That joke? The one where ‘you can take the man out of the tech but you can’t take the tech out of the man?’ Yeah, that doesn’t apply to Jake Jensen. It’ll be a cold day in hell when he leaves it all behind, but you check things on your phone all the time, too. Fair is fair.

You unplug what you think is one of the hotel’s complimentary devices—sad blow dryer or shitty coffee maker or something—and set your brush up. 

A quick glance in the mirror gives you a boost. Your skin looks pretty great, all things considered, and you have that new lip gloss to—

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

You jump in alarm, barely able to get to the bathroom door before Jake is right there.

“JESUS FUCK, WHAT DID YOU—fuck.” He rips your charger out of the wall to replace the other black plug. Jake doesn’t even look at you before huffing out “don’t TOUCH that” and racing back to his open laptop on the bed.

“Fuckfuckfuck, come on,” he mutters.

“Are you working?” you screech once it hits you that the device is some sort of signal amplifier. You aren’t tech illiterate, but you aren’t Jake’s level. He knows the golden rule is no work on your together time though.

“It’s important. I have to…there—“ he scrambles to type something out, zoned entirely into his computer.

His computer. Open to work. On your vacation. Which he brought extra equipment for.

Then you see another router on the small desk, and another on his bedside table.

And you’ve suddenly had enough.

“One day, Jay. One day,” you burst. “You couldn’t even give me one damn day of our own vacation.”

That momentary zen you felt flushes right down the toilet with your composure. Tears immediately sting the corners of your eyes. It’s all you can do to snatch sunglasses and a room key from the desk corner and walk out.

“Babe, wait, I just need a—“

The door shuts, fast as ever, loud as fucking thunderclap, and you’re barefoot in the hallway.

You do not fucking care and keep walking toward the pool.

One overly sweet and dangerously delicious cocktail later, Jake still hasn’t come to find you. You sit at the shaded bar with your hand over your eyes to take in the view since these are Jake’s prescription sunglasses you’ve taken. Either option is not great for the last dregs of a headache.

Cocktail number two it is…

Mercifully, clouds roll in. Not the kind that deters guests from the pool or beach. Nothing threatening the splendor of this perfect destination.

You walk to the edge of the pool deck and sip, waiting, alone.

Several times your brain tricks you into turning back, thinking Jake’s come out, thinking he’s groveling behind you. Do you even hope for that? Do you want him to sweep you off your feet? Do you believe him if he comes up with promises upon promises to put the work away, to instead put all that effort into you two?

You have no idea, so you just keep sipping until slurping on air and plunking the empty onto a free lounge chair.

Sputtering and coughing ring to your right.

“Dear god—” Jake wipes his mouth, holding a full coconut husk of your drink of choice “—is that what diabetes tastes like?”

He tries to hand you his peace offering, the peace offering he’s now taken some of and insulted. You turn back to the ocean, and Jake continues to squint harshly, nose scrunched so hard that you can see his teeth.

“Got something in my pocket—“ he smirks “—or maybe I’m just happy to see ya.”

Silence. He can’t hold the gag.

“It’s Tylenol. I grabbed Tylenol for your head.”

When you still don’t cave, he starts twitching, fumbling around with his watch, and clearing his throat.

“I wasn’t—there wasn’t supposed to be a—“ he swivels to look around him and steps closer “—a gig today, but then…boss, um, he—“ Jake waves his free hand out to help illustrate his lack of euphemisms for classified ops “—bungled a…a staging and—fuck it. I give up. He’s an idiot, and I’m a dick, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want them to get hurt if I could help.”

“You always have to help them, Jay. It never stops. I don’t see this working if you can’t step away for one damn day. I’m not this girl,” you fuss, “and I don’t want to date that guy.”

The wind picks up a little, swishing your hair around the makeshift headband of Jake’s sunglasses. You take pity and return them. He doesn’t put them on immediately though, his look guilty, replying in a soft and broken tone.

“Please don’t say stuff like that. I’m trying.”

“I am, too.” You square your shoulders to his and rip the drink out of his hand. “But isn’t trying and trying and not succeeding just failing in slow motion? Because that’s what it feels like to me every time you choose a machine over me.”

“That’s not fair.”

Your glare stops that line cold.

“What I mean is—ok, this is too…” Jake puts on the dark sunglasses. “Imagine my very sincere, partially-blind eyes when I say this is the best I’ve got. You know I don’t know how to be—“

“I swear to god if you say ‘lovah,’ Jake Jensen.” Little shit is always making a joke out of everything.

Since that is exactly what he was about to say, Jake cocks his hip and scratches his goatee. “Fine. Boyfriend. I’ve never gotten this far with someone, but I want it. I want this. I want it with you. I can’t be better until—ya know—try shit to do the best I can and maybe, actually, get better.”

You bitterly sip your sweet treat, saying flatly, “Charming.”

“I only had my job before—“ he pets his big hands down your bare arms “—you know that. It’s hard to switch off. And I am sorry. I did not intend to jump onto a…call the second we got here.“

Poking at the ice in your drink isn’t distracting enough. You’re mad and hurt. This vacation was supposed to cut you off from all that, to give you and Jake time to hang together uninterrupted, and most importantly, to feel like you were enough excitement and company for the guy inoculated from excitement by years of intense shit.

You do not feel like enough now.

“You brought an entire suitcase worth of equipment,” you say flatly.

“Force of habit,” he counters, trying to move his hands to your waist, but you step back. “It’s like a safety net. You pack an extra outfit per day and I come with…an extra router, couple of splitters, a sat phone, and…whatnot. Same sorta difference.”

“I don’t want to be on vacation with a sat phone and a split couple of wires.”

“Right. I understand that. I know it’s not…ideal.”

“And the next four days are going to be?”

“Ooh,” Jake hisses and makes a face, “if Pooch can survive that long without me, it’ll be a miracle.” He scratches the back of his head while you stare him down again.  “What?”

You clutch your drink, bunch up a bit of your skirt, and storm off down the boardwalk to the ocean.

It takes Jake a hot second.

“No. Hey! Come on,” he pleads quietly, hoping not to attract the attention of other guests while he chases you to the beach.

When Jake first approached you at a bar with the worst pickup line you’d ever heard, it was cute, endearing in an ‘I can fix him’ kind of way, but maybe you aren’t strong enough. You can’t just be training wheels while he gets his shit together. You’re not going to be some fucktoy in the corner and wait for him to get sick of you—or yell at you for doing something wrong—because then he’ll only associate you with being some sort of practice, a relationship that was doomed since he’ll want to start fresh with someone else who never fights with him, someone who understands this tech shit, someone who never gets angry, someone who isn’t insecure about—“

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Jake says, finally grabbing your arm to spin you around. “You are not practice.”

Did you…were you muttering all that…out loud? How strong are these drinks??

He jumps in front of your path when you attempt to flee, embarrassment warming you more than the shaded sun.

“No. No, I am not great at this. I’m doing everything wrong, and, babe, I know that.” Jake wildly talks with his hands and walks backward while you slog through loose sand. “I also know that you have put up with every stupid ass stunt I’ve pulled trying to impress you or be the guy I think you deserve. Which I am also convinced is some dude way better than me anyhow. Please don’t. Please don’t say you’re done with me. I can’t ruin this. You’re the best girl I’ve ever b—“

Jake cuts himself off with a wince.

Your head snaps up.

“Oh my god,” you shriek. “Were you just gonna say banged? I’m the best bang, REALLY?”

“Bagged,” he corrects with a sad flick of the wrist, “I was saying bagged, but then I knew it was wrong so I stopped and I’ve made it worse, haven’t I? Seriously if you just give me five minutes, I can look up the most spectacular apology. I can deep fake that cat from the Tiktoks you like reciting Shakespeare if you want just please—”

“Damn it, Jay. Get it through your head. I don’t want your rehearsed version of being a boyfriend, and for one weekend, I didn’t want to share you with your whole team.”

His eyebrows shoot up over the dark lenses. “Kinky,” he whistles. “Wait, no, I’m sor—”

“Go fuck yourself.” You walk away down the resort shore.

He infuriatingly does not follow this time, and instead, you hear his pathetic call “You look nice by the way. I like that dress.”

When that’s all you’ve gotten by a few seconds later, you glance to see Jake, too, walking away. That’s not right; he’s supposed to grovel. He’s supposed to keep following to convince you he loves you.

Sucking your drink down, you dump the ice, umbrella, and straw onto the sand and lob the coconut at Jake’s retreating form. You don’t have great aim.

It bounces straight off his ass and makes him yelp in surprise.

“What the—did you just…”

You puff out your chest, unashamed, as Jake’s mouth gapes open. He slowly stretches to his full height and adjusts his glasses.

“Why you little...“

“Yeah? What are you gonna—eek!”

 He’s after you.

You squeal and bolt down to the water in a zigzag to evade him.

“I’ll get you, minx,” Jake roars into the wind.

You can’t help but laugh as you barely dodge him. It’s easy for a special ops guy to catch a civilian in a long dress trying to run on wet sand, but Jake grins the whole time and lets you have a few extra moves before his arms wrap your waist.

He lifts you off the ground.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he growls playfully in your ear, holding you tight as you thrash a little. 

It’s a fit of giggles for him to wrestle you into a hug, facing him. Jake’s still smiling, breathing heavier but not from any great exertion. He rests his forehead against yours, the wire rim of his sunglasses brushing your eyebrows.

“How’s your head feeling, baby?” His hands stroke your sides tenderly, and you sigh, a few more toxic fumes of anger releasing into the breeze.

“Um,” you assess, squinting, “better than my feet.”

You’ve dug the wrung of a barstool into your arch, stood on hot cement, traipsed across a sharp-shelled beach, and run over the solid, water-logged shore, all barefoot.

“I can help with that.” Jake kisses the tip of your nose and sweeps you up bridal style.

After an involuntary scream of alarm, you clutch at his neck. “That’s not necessary.”

“I know, but that’s the point. How else are you supposed to know how unnecessarily crazy I am about you?” For a complete nerd, your boyfriend is quite built. “And I’m gonna guess you are ‘throwing coconuts’ crazy about me, maybe?”

“God help me, I am.”

“Yeah? Glad you dig losers, babe, because I’m the biggest one you can find.” 

As he makes his way up the wooden steps back to the pool, you grip his flexed bicep. “Yeah, you are…”

He puts you down by the tap to rinse your feet, spraying first yours, then his.

“See,” he whispers, standing and moving you both out of the way for a large family to use the water, “I like ‘em frisky, too, so we’re a perfect match.” He keeps his voice very low. “I can think of at least one thing to do to keep you off those poor feet for a few hours.”

You bite your lip, and even though you can’t see his eyes through the mirror-finish, you know he’s affected by that move. “What’s that?”

He gets bashful and ducks his face off to the side--he’s not very smooth with dirty talk. He knows you love to tease him though. He also…loves being teased.

You take his hand in yours, giving it a squeeze, your own small ‘I’m sorry.’

Jake pushes up his sunglasses and beams with a snort of approval. “Well, it starts with ordering room service and then unplugging everything…”

A/N: Thank you for waiting since mid-December for this one, but I'm finally pleased with how it turned out. Sadly, I thought of the fight scenario way back when, and just kept blanking on a way to dig them back out of it. I really, really did not want a bunch of promises and excuses and it was important to me that it not be a one-sided issue. Relationships are, in fact, a two-way street after all!!!

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @peyton-warren and I don't really know anyone else for a Jake tag, but yeah, let me know...