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yeopoet · 1 day

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MEET ME IN THE HALLWAY

`౨ৎ~ pairing: ateez x gn!reader genre: forbidden romance, fluff, kinda suggestive if you read between the lines ౿ ׂ ִ warnings: kissing (?) word count: 2k.

author's note: highly inspired by this post. ps: the divider does not belong to me.

﹒ ◠ ✩ hongjoong ⊹ ﹒

Two powerful families competing fiercely in the construction industry, locked in a never-ending battle over urban development projects: his family prioritizes large, luxurious complexes, while yours is dedicated to eco-friendly, sustainable initiatives. The differences between you go beyond business, turning what should have remained professional into something personal and deeply entrenched. Your parents have made it clear—they never want you anywhere near the Kims, and his parents share the same sentiment. But Hongjoong couldn’t care less about the rules. He sneaks to your bedroom window in the dead of night, not with malice, but driven by an irresistible urge to explore what he’s been told is forbidden. You’ve tried pushing him away, again and again, but nothing works. He’s relentless, and despite all the barriers that should keep you apart, to him, you’re the only thing that matters.

“You can’t just show up here like it’s no big deal,” you whisper-yell as you open your window. “They’ll find out, and that’ll be the end of both of us.”

“I’ve tried to forget about you, but it’s impossible.” Hongjoong exhales deeply, slipping through the window with ease, like sneaking into your room is something he’s mastered. “I missed our midnight talks.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What? Are you in love with me or something?”

He smiles, stepping closer until he’s near enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face. “And what if I am? Would that be so bad?”

﹒ ◠ ✩ seonghwa ⊹ ﹒

Someone born into a life of luxury, with a future carved out by endless wealth, isn’t supposed to waste his time with people of "lower status." As the heir to a well-established hospital chain, Seonghwa has never had to worry about anything—not even the clothes on his back. His sole purpose in life, as dictated by his family, is to follow the path toward taking his father’s place. But with dreams of his own, he somehow ended up in your studio, signing up for a beginner's sewing class. It wasn’t exactly the best first encounter, especially since your classes weren’t designed for heirs of empires, but over time, Seonghwa managed to capture your attention. He now pays for private lessons, driven by his passion to become a fashion designer. He shares sketches of outfits with you, designs he’s never dared to show anyone else. What was supposed to be a professional relationship between teacher and student gradually became something more. And honestly, how could he not fall for you?

“I know I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t stay away.” His words spill out the moment you open the door, sadness pouring at your feet. “Please, just give me a chance to fix all of this.”

“You’ve already caused enough damage.” You take a deep breath, holding back tears. Watching him beg for something you both know he can’t change feels like a knife to the heart, and if you’re not careful, you might cave. He steps closer, and you know this is the moment to slam the door in his face—before his father shows up again, threatening to destroy everything you've built if you don’t leave Seonghwa alone. But your heart wavers, seeing the redness in his eyes. “Don’t make this harder than it already is, Hwa. We can’t be together. If anyone sees us, it’ll be the end for both of-”

“Just one last time.” He’s crying now, his hand gently cradling the back of your neck like he's afraid you’ll disappear. “Let me be with you one last time.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ yunho ⊹ ﹒

It’s not easy having parents who watch your every move as if you’re incapable of taking care of yourself. But if it weren’t for their overbearing protectiveness, you never would’ve met Jeong Yunho, your bodyguard—the one who pulled you out of your monotonous life and gave you a taste of freedom. He sneaks you out for daring, late-night adventures, always careful not to push things too far and jeopardize both your lives. Yunho tried to keep his distance; he was never the kind of employee to cross the line. But avoiding his inevitable downfall with you was impossible.

“They warned me about you,” he says softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand gently cradling one side of your face. “But I didn’t listen.”

“And I’m glad you didn’t.” You smile openly, wrapping your arms around his waist before pressing your lips to his with intensity.

﹒ ◠ ✩ yeosang ⊹ ﹒

When the extravagance of your world becomes overwhelming, you find yourself seeking a place to breathe. Conveniently, that place always ends up being in the arms of Yeosang, the butler of your household. You've known each other since childhood, long before he took over his father’s role and before you were promised to marry someone you don’t love. The quiet meetings behind the tallest hedges in the garden offer you a peace you’ve never experienced around your family. The love that has never faded grows more painful as your wedding day draws near, and no matter how much you both long to escape, you know you've been condemned since the day you were born.

“This is the last time,” you whisper, casting a sorrowful glance at the man lying beside you. “We can’t keep doing this.”

Yeosang doesn’t respond right away but holds your gaze with a quiet tenderness. Then, after a few torturous seconds of silence, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “We said the same thing the last time we met,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you slowly, lingering. “The truth is, I’d have to move to another continent to ever be able to stay away from you.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ san ⊹ ﹒

He fought hard to get where he is. It wasn’t easy landing a job at one of the most prestigious networks in the country, and once inside, he quickly realized why the selection process was so difficult. His bosses are strict; they don’t tolerate irresponsibility and push him to the brink of exhaustion. Still, the salary makes it all worth it. San is building his life, shaping his dream career as a reporter, doing everything he can to avoid trouble. That is, until you, the boss’s daughter, showed up and threw all his plans into chaos. It wasn’t your intention to disrupt anyone. You’ve always kept a distance from the company’s employees, taking your duties as an heiress seriously. But who could have predicted that at a party with over 100 people, you’d end up kissing the newest intern?

“No one can know about this, promise me,” he whispers, gripping your elbow as he keeps the two of you dangerously close. “That was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”

“As if I wanted it to,” you fire back, your breath mingling with his as your gaze locks onto his—eyes that are saying something completely different. “But if you keep pulling me into closed-off spaces out of nowhere, people are going to get suspicious, and it won’t be my fault.”

“Right, we should keep our distance,” he says, yet doesn’t move an inch. “I just wanted to make things clear.”

“I got the message loud and clear.” With every passing second, your faces inch closer. San tightens his grip on your arm, though not enough to hurt. He tilts his head, muttering a soft “good” against your lips before making the mistake of kissing you again.

﹒ ◠ ✩ mingi ⊹ ﹒

A friendship that has lasted for years could never be shaken by something trivial—or so you thought. But could your feelings for her brother be enough to ruin everything? She’s always made it clear that Mingi is off-limits. He constantly breaks her friends’ hearts, and they always end up drifting away. So, to keep the friendship intact, she put up a wall between the two of you. Too bad it only makes things more exciting from his perspective. You try your best to resist Mingi’s advances, but he makes it nearly impossible when he walks around the house shirtless after training, or when he finds lame excuses to touch you at random moments—like holding your waist to squeeze past you when there’s clearly plenty of space. It’s ridiculous.

“You really need to stop doing that,” you say, crossing your arms like you’re throwing a tantrum. Mingi looks at you, eyebrows raised, with that same clueless expression that drives you insane. “I’m serious, Mingi.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, leaning forward to reach something in the back of the fridge.

“There are literally two other ways to get to the fridge, and you chose the tightest spot—right where I’m standing.” You stomp your foot. “And not only that, you—”

Your sentence is cut off by the sound of the fridge door closing. Mingi steps closer, and you hold your breath. “And I what?” he asks, leaning against the counter without breaking eye contact. “Last I checked, this is my house, and I can walk wherever I want.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze and staring at your toes. Mingi gently lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him again.

“I thought you liked it when I touched you.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand slowly trailing down your shoulder, along your arm, until his fingers entwine with yours.

“We shouldn’t…” your voice falters. “Yena is—”

“I know, but I can’t help it sometimes.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ wooyoung ⊹ ﹒

He’s never been the type of guy to care about his friend’s girlfriend. It’s one of the most disloyal things you could do to a friendship. But when it comes to you, Wooyoung loses every last shred of honesty within himself. Falling for you was never part of his plan, and he tried everything he could to push those feelings away. If he had known that taking care of you when his friend messed up would spark such a dangerous affection, he would have let you handle your problems on your own. You, on the other hand, are deeply grateful for the countless times Wooyoung has saved you, and for showing you that love isn’t what you thought it was. All the lingering hugs, unfinished sentences, and the longing to give in to something forbidden have made you both question how much you're willing to sacrifice for each other.

“Every time I see you, I have to remind myself that you’re not mine,” he says, standing just far enough away to keep himself from giving in to his darker desires. He’s held back all this time, never crossing the line—but here you are, at his doorstep on a Saturday night, minutes after his best friend just left your house.

“So please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“And you think it’s easy for me?!” you explode, pushing his chest hard enough to make him stumble back a couple of steps. “You decide one night that you’re going to cut me out of your life, and you expect me not to react?”

Wooyoung grabs your arms, stopping you from hitting him again. “I’m trying to make things easier,” his eyes fill with tears, or maybe it’s yours—both of you just staring at each other, struggling not to sob out loud. You finally weaken, collapsing against his chest, muffling the sound of your pain as Wooyoung holds you tight, the way he always does.

“There’s no easy way out of this. No matter what we decide, someone’s going to end up hurt.”

﹒ ◠ ✩ jongho ⊹ ﹒

The life of a celebrity isn’t always glamorous. The fear of appearing in the tabloids caught in a dating scandal can feel more terrifying than the fear of death itself. After appearing on a variety show with you, Jongho developed a silly crush that, over time—fueled by risky texts during award shows and innocent meetups while everyone else was asleep—grew into something much bigger. To keep things discreet, you both decided to act indifferent toward each other, even though it’s become nearly impossible for him.

“Every moment we spend together is a risk, but I just can’t stay away,” Jongho says as he plants a flurry of kisses across your face. He made sure to clear out everyone from the dressing room just to have a few minutes alone with you before the show.

You laugh, trying to pull away from his eager touch to keep him from messing up your appearance. “Jongho! I have a performance in half an hour. You can’t mess up my makeup!”

He immediately steps back, placing his hands behind his back in an exaggerated effort to keep them off you. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“We’ll see each other later, okay?” You give him a playful, reassuring smile.

“Okay, I’ll try not to die until then.”

#ateez scenarios #ateez headcanons #ateez fluff #ateez smau #ateez fanfic #ateez x you #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez texts #ateez reactions #ateez imagines

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romaritimeharbor · 3 days

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HEARTH FLAME. — In which the Knave's heir decides their fate.

— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injury (& the recovery following it), pain medications and slightly implied impairment of judgment because of them. it isn't really outright though and could honestly be ignored.

— pairings & notes. ambiguous genre; may be considered hurt/comfort. arlecchino & heir!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is a member of the house of the hearth and is arlecchino's chosen heir. occurs after the events of arlecchino's story quest. 2.1k words.

— author's thoughts. i would say "i swear i'm very normal about arlecchino" but i feel as if we all know that is not true. anyways for those that care about the lore behind this series of fics, i perceive this as the "turning point" in arle & [name]'s relationship in which the latter begins to realize how serious being the knave's heir is. but rn they are delirious on pain meds and do not realize the fate that they have condemned themselves to. yeag

Lightning struck their body at even the slightest of muscle twitches.

The bruises on their skin hidden underneath gauze and bandages throbbed with agonizing heat, their insides twisted and churned as their body attempted to repair whatever manner of internal injuries that they had oh-so lovingly been gifted, and their mind begged for restful sleep.

(No matter how tired they were, ever since they had awoken after being asleep for about a day, they had not been able to fall back asleep again... at least, not in a way that mattered. Their sleep was plagued by nightmares and worries that they could not shake, all concerning the very person who had put them in this condition in the first place. She hadn't come to see them yet. They were certain she would have, but she hadn't.

Was father... upset? Did they upset her?)

A soft sigh left their lips as they stared upwards at the ceiling from their bed—even the simple task turning over was nigh impossible, so they dared not attempt anything other than sleep. At least the admittedly rather laborious task of trying to fall asleep did not wrack their body with searing hurt.

In their spar, Father was neither kind nor easy on them, and they had a sneaking suspicion that she was especially hard on them. Lyney was already standing again and on the move, meanwhile Lynette and Freminet ended up slipping by with relatively minimal injuries, but them? Bedridden, without the slightest hope of being able to stand in the coming hours... or even days, probably. Their legs pulsed at the thought alone.

...But they did take the brunt of Father's attacks, so they supposed that was their own fault.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

"I will not sit idly by and watch you bring unfathomable harm to my siblings."

Standing immovably in front of Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet with their weapon pointedly raised at the very woman who raised them was certainly not how they had anticipated their day going. Nevertheless, they were in that exact situation, and backing down was the last thing on their mind. Lyney seemed to want to say something—to tell them, to warn them, not to be stupid, maybe.

...But really, Lyney knew better, and as much as he worried for his sibling's safety, he also knew extremely well how Father was and how they were.

She would want to see their display of strength, no matter how miniscule in comparison to hers.

And them—they would not dare let Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet face this alone, even if it meant risking their safety and wellbeing.

(He also happened to know that his sibling could be a tad too eager to show Father the display of strength she desired, but that was just his own opinion, muddled by his biases and his own desire to protect and care for his siblings. He knew and recognized how his desires played tricks on him, but it did not make him any less bothered by what he liked to think of as his sibling's 'recklessness.')

Arlecchino's stare threatened to pry apart their soul at its very seams, but they failed to waver. Instead, they firmly returned her stare, albeit with less intensity. Their grip on their weapon tightened.

The Knave was going to absolutely destroy them, though hopefully not beyond repair.

They knew that, and they were fine with that. It was an inevitable truth; so be it.

In the defense of their siblings, they would be more than happy to shed blood—someone else's, or theirs.

"...I hope you can forgive me, Father."

In this case, theirs.

— flower of the universe !! 🌸

Destroy them, she most certainly did. It wasn't an unexpected outcome. They knew better than to think that they could actually beat her; at least their showing of strength (combined with that of their siblings' and the Traveler's) was enough to compel her to give a kinder execution.

'Execution.' Hm.

Execution.

The word bounced around in their mind for some time as they pondered.

They weren't quite sure if they saw it that way or not—on one hand, the mind was killed and reborn, but on the other, the body remained alive and unharmed.

What kind of execution could be so... gentle? So forgiving? None that they had ever heard of. No executions were so tender and compassionate as to preserve the gift of life.

...Perhaps that was simply a different kind of execution than what they were used to.

As their mind wandered, they absentmindedly mused about what their freed siblings were doing.

'Filliol and Nanteuil... where are you two now?'

Were they enjoying the sun?

Hopefully.

The soft click of a door opening and closing caught their attention, and for a moment they felt extreme relief—finally, someone had come to administer their pain medications... the ache sinking into their bones was about to finish what Arlecchino had begun at this point—but the click of heels that followed made their chest tighten nervously.

They turned their head slightly to the side. At their bedside stood none other than the Knave herself, an unreadable expression crossing her face when she saw the state they were in.

Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

"Father..."

"My child."

Arlecchino was quick to drag the stool at the foot of their bed to the side and sit.

"Father, I—"

They tried to sit up, grimacing through the pain that clawed across the entirety of their body as they did. The Fourth did not allow them to get far, however, and placed a firm hand on their chest. They had no choice but to settle back down, as the strength she was exerting against them was far too great for them to combat.

"Do not get up. You will only hurt yourself—"

"Father—"

"—And spare yourself the chore of speaking."

Their mouth closed without another word. All they could do was stare up at her, eyes wide and bewildered and perfectly displaying all the questions they wished to ask (and a bit glazed over due to the combined factors of their exhaustion and the strength of the medication they had been on), though one in particular stood out the most:

'Why are you here?'

Maybe the Knave could read their mind.

(She had no such ability. To know her children and what they were thinking was simply part of her responsibility as Father.)

"My child," she mused again, this time not in greeting, though she did not continue. Perhaps she was looking for the words. Her fingers gingerly brushed the hair from their face, briefly brushing over the scratch across their forehead.

Ah.

One among the many wounds she bestowed upon them a day prior. One of the most mild of her gifts, actually.

It wasn't regret that washed upon her upon realizing the severity of their wounds in particular—no, they made the choice to join the fight knowing well that she would not be gentle on them or their siblings, and she would argue that regret was a useless emotion only capable of holding one back. What's done was done. It was as simple as that. Regret, much like sorrow, does naught but hold a person back.

...Yet, she still felt something, though she struggled identifying what it was.

Maybe...

Maybe, now that the Fourth had seen them and the extent of the wounds she delivered, she felt that she had neglected her obligation as Father to visit their bedside in the midst of their healing.

"I'm sorry."

Their voice cut through her thoughts. Though they tried their very best to mask it, it wavered almost imperceptibly, the tremble only audible to trained ears—ears like hers. The Fourth Harbinger was not known for being obtruse. She noticed, and they could tell. Nothing ever slipped by her.

"And what is it that you are apologizing for, exactly?"

"I... I don't know. I just feel like you're disappointed in me somehow, and I don't know how else to remedy it at the moment."

'At the moment,' she assumed, meant their current bedridden state.

"I know not what has given you such an impression. I am not disappointed."

"...You're not?"

"Certainly not. If you are referring to your interception of our spar," she began, "defending your family is the most kingly action you could have taken in that moment. In fact, I expected no less of you."

"I'm not kingly," they replied, offering a weak chuckle as they continued: "At least, I don't feel kingly right now..."

"Then how is it that you feel?"

"Pathetic, maybe." They turned their head fully to the side so that they were able to meet her gaze. "I know I can't and probably will never be able to triumph over you in a spar, but—"

"Perish the thought," Arlecchino dismissed. "Immediately."

"Huh?"

Her eyes bore into theirs. This time, much unlike the time they stared at her in battle, they did not feel fear or nervous anticipation of what was to come.

"You did not win the war," she affirmed, "but I would certainly say you won the battle."

She leaned closer. With one hand, she brushed the framing hair that normally fell over her cheeks to the side.

There, a long cut was scabbed over with dry crimson, and suddenly, their heart leapt—whether it was from an odd pride in having been able to actually hit her, or shame and embarrassment that they actually caused harm to Father of all people, they did not know.

The Knave allowed her hair to fall back into place.

"Though the odds were stacked against you and yours, you ultimately managed to wound me. This was something that not even your siblings managed to achieve."

"I could argue that it's only because there were so many of us."

"Perhaps, but it was still you who caused this wound. I lost track of you for only a moment and you took the opportunity. Progress does not happen overnight, child, and your strength is still growing. One day, you will be the king of this house. You will deliver these kinds of wounds to others, as I have delivered to you." Her gaze shifted to their bedside table. "...That is, if you so desire that life."

The bottled flame swirled and flared in the vial under her gaze, as if it sought to melt through the glass and lunge, consuming everything in its wake and leaving nothing but ash behind.

Ah. Right.

They had almost forgotten that she had also allocated the resources needed to complete her 'execution' to them.

Silence, heavy with the weight of implication, endured for what seemed to be an eternity.

Then, they broke it:

"I do not wish to leave the house."

Arlecchino would have been perfectly content with letting them free—with snipping away at the webs they were so deeply entangled in, letting the flames cleanse the darkness from their veins, and thereby permitting them to step into the sun.

And yet... that was not what they wanted.

Perhaps it was a blend of bewilderment, pride, and annoyance that stirred in her chest.

What a foolish child they were, refusing freedom when it was so readily within their grasp. They had earned it, and yet they chose to reject it? How foolish, indeed.

The Fourth's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she gazed down at them.

"Hm. Is that so?"

"Yes."

...But that foolish child was hers—her child and her successor. Hers, and hers for a reason, for better or worse.

If all of the Knaves who came before Peruere were not stubborn, then there would be no Knave to begin with. It was, therefore, only right that her heir be as much of a stubborn fool as she.

Her eyes seemed to soften, if only by a miniscule amount. Arlecchino placed a warm hand over their own, resting idly across their torso, and they hummed, daring to shift and intertwine her fingers with theirs.

Brief tender moments, always flickering like a dying flame, were rare in the House of the Hearth, especially when permitted or even initiated by Father.

Thus, they had no problem taking advantage of the situation that they were in, eyes fluttering shut as her warmth oozed into their hand and slowly crawled up their arm. It would soon consume their entire being, but rather than being scorched by it, they were certain that they would be lulled to sleep by it.

"So be it, then," she murmured, thumb absentmindedly running across their knuckle. "You are a fool."

A smile. The first that Arlecchino had seen from them in days, in fact, and it seemed to soothe something within her. "I know."

"Do not disappoint me."

Her tone cut as sharply as a knife, but they did not appear to mind a single bit; all they could do was smile at her.

Even when she was threatening them, all they could do was smile.

"I won't."

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! the best ways to do so are as follows: comments, asks, reblogs, and reblogs with tags.

#✧— aphe's creations.#astronetwrk #divider by @/cafekitsune ♡#platonic genshin #platonic genshin x reader #platonic x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #platonic genshin impact #arlecchino x reader #platonic arlecchino x reader #arlecchino @ reader: what an idiot child. my idiot child (un)fortunately

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makeyoumine69 · 21 hours

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A little bit possessive

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x fem!Reader

CW: Smut, Daddy kink, pregnancy/breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, prone bone, power play, dirty talk, pet names, obsessive behavior, implied overstimulation.

A/N: Hello everyone, just wanted to drop this little drabble, seems like Daddy Kink is taking over me once again as I have been listening to too many of Lana's songs lately, especially THIS edit hits hard. Also, I want to thank everyone who still reads me, I'm struggling with several writing projects, but I hope such little drabbles can bring you some joy! Sending my love and hugs!💕

"Tell me," Bateman murmured, his voice low and commanding as he pushed just the tip inside you. "What exactly do you think you're going to do, hmm? Walk away? Find another man to play Daddy?" He thrust forward, filling you in one brutal motion, his fingers digging deeper into your flesh. "You're mine," Patrick growled through clenched teeth, his pace rough and relentless as he fucked you. "You're not going anywhere." He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as his hips jerked forward, his cock slamming into your soaking slit. "And this baby? It's mine too. You won't find anyone else who can give you what I can." Patrick's hand moved to your throat, his grip tight as he thrust harder, pushing your body into the mattress with each movement. "You'll thank me," he sneered, diving deeper, reveling in the intoxicating sensation of your warmth. "You'll beg me to stay."

"No!" You blurted out, grabbing his hand that was painfully squeezing your neck. "It… it's not true!"

"Go ahead," he snapped darkly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me you don't need me. I dare you." Patrick's cock drove deep into you again, hard enough to make the headboard hit the wall. "Because the truth is… you can't fucking live without me." The man thrust harder, every move designed to make you understand exactly what he meant. "This is your life now, honey. With me. Only me." Bateman grinned, his breath hot against your skin. "And you're going to love every fucking second of it."

Sobbing, you tried to kick him off you and roll over, but Patrick was too strong, much stronger than you, there was not even a chance to fight him. "It hurts!" you squealed and closed your eyes, your legs already shaking. "I… I can't take it… anymore…"

Inflamed, Bateman pinned you to the mattress and then, in one swift motion, flipped you over so that you lay flat on your stomach. Whimpering and trembling, you struggled to crawl away from him, but the next thing you knew, Patrick was covering you from above, weighing you down and placing a pillow under your pubic bone before ramming into your sore, creamy cunt once more.

"Beg me to stop," the man taunted, thrusting harder, faster. "Beg me and maybe I'll think about it." His hand tightened around your shoulders as his other hand grabbed your ass, pulling you even closer as he pounded into you, ignoring your cries, your pleas for mercy.

"Enough…p-please!" You turned to look at him, but he just pushed your face into the pillow. "Mhmm…it's too deep!"

Bateman could feel his orgasm building, but he didn't stop, didn't slow down. He's not done yet. Not until you fully understood who owned you. Not until you were completely broken.

"You will never leave me," Patrick whispered, his voice raspy and full of conviction. "You belong to me now. And there's nothing you can do about it."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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matryosika · 1 day

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Three Times Again

Pairing — Hyunjin & Reader Wordcount — 6,171 words Includes — Fem!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, smut (warnings under the cut). Author's Note — Finished college, graduated with a psychology degree and a 98.8/100 general score, I now have a serious, serious job and I haven't written anything in eight or nine months so this is the best I can do at this point. This might be a bit rusty but honestly I'm happy I was able to write something for the first time in so long. Don't think I forgot about you folks, I never will! Hope you didn't forget about me either.

Smut Warnings — Virgin AND inexperienced reader paired with somewhat experienced male character, best friends trope. Use of petnames, praise and worship if you squint, very very delicate smut if i'm being honest. Fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, lots of making out and kisses, protected sex, mentions and use of condom, piv.

It was bound to happen.

Hyunjin knew it. You knew it. All of your friends knew it.

Rather sooner than later, it was just bound to happen.

The four walls on his bedroom and the remnants of the incense smoke are lively witnesses of the tension unraveling —a tension that lasted enough for the two of you, and that is now slowly causing havoc with each of your heartbeats.

It all started with a simple, pointless "truth or dare" kind of game, you and your friend's very own rendition: truth or shot. You asked each other's questions, and you could choose between replying or chugging down a shot of liquid courage. No room for those "lick the floor" or "text your ex" shenanigans.

Of course the catch was that after 3 or 4 rounds, your headspace wasn't as sober as initially. And after a series of shots, one would eventually start spitting out just truths that cannot be spoken after the sun rises.

“Don’t think about it,” Hyunjin begs in between kisses, dragging his swollen lips along your shoulders and neck. His hands are roaming underneath your clothes, getting familiar with your body while feeling your warmth. “Please, don’t think about it”.

You can't. And you try not to.

At least not when the sensations of his wet lips teasing your skin becomes too much to handle in a span of minutes, or when the ghost trailing of his fingertips against your flesh is making you turn desperate for him.

But it is difficult.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper, the logical, still functioning part of your brain tries to protest. Despite how aroused you are, and despite how receptive your body is to that of Hyunjin's. “We’re- you’re my best friend Hyunjin”.

“And you’re mine,” he hums against your skin, only lifting his gaze when you bury your fingers a bit too harshly onto his dark hair locks, “is that so wrong?”

His words get underneath your skin in ways that they shouldn't, and you start kissing your rationality goodbye as Hyunjin nibbles softly at the flesh where your shoulders and neck connect.

“You’re- we are going to regret this,” you exhale, ironically locking your arms around his neck. Your words are only saying much, but your body is risking it all to let him know that you want this just as much as he does. “What if- you wake up tomorrow and think this was a mistake?”

The dark-haired lets out a quiet groan, filled with both amusement and despair. “How can this be a mistake?” he asks, moving one of his hands from your hips to your thighs, sneaking it between your shorts and your underwear, “how can it be a mistake when I've waited years to have you like this, all for me?”.

You arch your back against the palm of his hand.

“Hyunjin,” you exhale his name once again, but you're not quite sure what for. It could be a plea, or the beginning of a sentence you can't begin to articulate in a situation like this. It could also be the familiarity of the word falling from your lips in between moans —you would be such a filthy liar if you were to deny having touched yourself while thinking about your friend before.

Either way, Hyunjin never really thought of his name that much until now, that he's hearing you moaning it.

“Yeah?” he asks with a weak hum, getting lost in the way you smell, “talk to me”.

“F-fuck,” you murmur weakly, the stinging feeling of tears pricking on the corners of your eyes. You’re about to cry, but you don't know why. Blame it on the alcohol, the sudden release of that secret you've kept years locked inside of you, or the overwhelming sensation Hyunjin’s skin is, “promise me something-”.

Your friend is all too busy engraving every single inch of your skin into his brain. Every freckle, mole and stretch mark, he needs to memorize your flesh like it's a map. He wants to remember how it looks underneath the dim light of his room, proof that this all happened and it's not just another wet dream of his.

“Anything,” he says, with such a raspy voice it's vibrations travel from the skin spilling out from your bra up until your throbbing center, “ask me anything”.

You gather all your courage within you to lift your upper body from the mattress, resting your weight on your forearms and causing Hyunjin to take a slight step back from you.

“Promise me this isn't going to change a thing in our friendship,” you murmur, your chest moving up and down almost frantically. Hyunjin's dark eyes are all over yours, with a subtle furrow in his brows that just tells you he's still trying to get a hold on everything that's happening. “Promise me, Hyunjin”.

You're honestly asking for a lot. How can he promise such a thing, when he is already missing the warmth of your skin? How can he pretend nothing is going to change, when tomorrow he will wake up with the ghostly feeling of your pussy around his dick?

Hyunjin will say yes. Hyunjin will say that he promises you something he knows he is not going to fulfill. And honestly, he can play pretend. You're not going to be able to tell, and he is not going to say it.

But Hyunjin knows everything is going to change the minute he gets to feel your lips on his again. He knows nothing will ever be the same once he bottoms out inside you, hearing you moaning and gasping while he fucks you however you ask him to.

“I promise,” he swallows the lie thickly, staring at you between furrowed eyebrows. “I fucking promise just- please let me have you, please”.

You're staring at each other with hitched breath, rapid heartbeats and an insane amount of uncertainty neither of you can sort out.

“Please let me taste you,” Hyunjin plants a chaste kiss right above your hip bone.

And then another.

And another.

“Please,” he begs again, humming your name. “Let me make you feel real good”.

You close your eyes in defeat, getting immersed in the way his hot lips feel against your tummy. He is kissing, and licking, and nibbling at your flesh, it's practically impossible not to give in when all that's left is your word consenting to it.

“Please,” Hyunjin insists, the tip of his fingers grazing against the hems of your skirt and underwear. “Say you want this just as much as I do”.

You whine, kicking your head back.

“Say it,” he repeats, whispering your name. “I need to hear it from you. I need to know that you want me like I want you”.

“I want this,” you finally confess. “I want this- fuck, I want you, Hyunjin”.

The words leave your lips with a shakily breath, and you think it might be the release of it all.

His lips crash into yours once again, and you realize how much you missed his taste despite having kissed him just minutes ago. Hyunjin's saliva tastes like plum soju, mint and your strawberry gloss, and your heart skips a beat at the realization that this is real, that this is happening —your taste and essence lingers in Hyunjin's mouth, and there's no turning back now.

The closer your bodies are, the more your fragrances mix. You can't tell his smell apart from yours, and he can't tell either —your hands smell like his lotion, and his shirt smells like your perfume.

Your mind spirals into all the sensations he is providing you with, that is until his hands sneak underneath your blouse and you get to feel his hot flesh against the sides of your body.

Then, your mind goes blank.

Your blood boils, you feel the heat rising to your chest, cheeks and ears. You feel exposed, in a way, but you're sure things aren't going to end there.

Hyunjin has seen nothing of you just yet.

"Can I take this off?" His hands are still attached to your waist underneath your clothes, and as far as you're concerned he could be talking about your shirt or your bra. You want those two off anyways, so you nod and agree to whatever he is thinking.

Things unfold in slow motion to your eyes, but everything is happening pretty fast, actually. In the blink of an eye your blouse is scattered around his bedroom floor, and it doesn't take too long before his t-shirt is joining yours there, too.

Between all the kisses and pettings, you feel the loss of his warmth when he takes a step back. Then, you feel really exposed.

Apart from your heavy breaths and fast heartbeats, the room is completely quiet. So quiet it scares you, so you break the silence with a muffled "what?".

Hyunjin's straight eyebrows furrow just slightly, and he parts his lips to say something yet nothing comes out of them. Nothing but a deep, trembling exhale; it sounds like the equivalent to being able to finally breath after being underwater for so long.

“What, Hyunjin?” You repeat with a stern voice, fearing he might've started to regret the whole thing. He is unreadable —as far as you're concerned, he could be having second thoughts about this stupid idea. You wouldn't blame it for it.

But when he drops to his knees in front of you, and his hands find the waistband of your skirt, you get the sense that he might not be regretting any of this at all.

“So pretty,” he mutters, with rounded eyebrows like crescent moons and big, open eyes as he stares up at you, “you’re so, so pretty”.

The compliment takes your breath away, and the skin on your nape and back short-circuits as if an explosion of electricity it’s taking place underneath your flesh.

"You really think so?" You're not quite sure what prompts you to ask such a question, but you figure you should let yourself get loose. The last thing you want for tonight is to hold back, because that isn't the idea.

You're doing this with Hyunjin for a reason, and said reason is because you trust him.

Without holding back, without overthinking, without hesitating. There will be plenty of time to reflect on whatever happens tonight, but right now isn't the time.

At least not when Hyunjin is kneeling in front of you, holding so much adoration in his eyes you swear you finally feel those butterflies people keep talking about.

“I know so,” he reiterates, “just look at you”.

Your eyes fall to where his hands meet with your skirt, and this time he asks for consent with just his gaze. You nod and swallow thickly, watching as his fingers expertly dance along the hems of your skirt.

You want to shy away, to cover yourself and evaporate into thin air —at the same time, Hyunjin wants to look at you. You want him to be the first one to see you naked, to touch parts of your body nobody has before. You want to see his expression, to wonder what he will do when the realization of having you in his bed finally sinks in.

Because up until now, everything feels like a fever dream to him.

You stand in front of the edge of his bed, and watch as he undresses you. His hands trace the path of the skirt, from your thighs to your calves, and only looks up when it reaches your ankles, signaling for you to step out of it.

The color and fabric of your panties match those of the bra, and for a split second Hyunjin feels played.

Did you plan it? Have you been thinking about this as much as he has?

It could be a coincidence, but it isn't —at some point throughout the night, you and Hyunjin were bound to happen. And you both knew it.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, standing up from the floor right in front of you. His eyes are all over your face, his hands are shy and you get the feeling that he might kiss you, but all he does is press his lips against yours and murmurs, “you make me feel so- fuck, I don’t even know”.

You appreciate Hyunjin's sincerity, because honestly you don't know either. All you know is the adrenaline running through your veins, and the palpitations you feel underneath your left rib cage and between your thighs.

All you know is that you want Hyunjin to fuck you. Whether it's painful, or not. Whether you get to feel some pleasure, or not. All you want is for him to be your first, to be the one you experience sex for the first time like everyone around you already has.

It's actually more complicated than that, than just experiencing, but you don't dwell on it for long.

“Don’t think about it too much,” you suggest, just as fazed as he is. “Don’t think about anything just- do whatever you want”.

Hyunjin is unsure of what he is doing, judged by the hesitation behind his movements. He holds you by the small of your back and presses you tightly against his body, so close the tip of your noses are grazing against each other.

“Stop me if I hurt you,” he whispers with shortness of breath, “alright?”

You nod and swallow thickly, “okay”.

Inevitably, Hyunjin feels a pressure over his shoulders. He knows it is your first time.

You deserve something memorable, something that it's all about you.

Sure, his dick is hard and throbbing, and he swears he is one second away from exploding inside his pants, but he is willing to leave his pleasure aside for yours.

He'd have other opportunities to get his dick wet and other chances to experiment. Right now it should be all about you, about making you feel good.

And under that thought, he kisses you again.

Soft and slowly, dragging the tip of his fingers along the middle of your back. His tongue brushes against yours and you completely forget about the concept of oxygen.

It doesn't matter now that Hyunjin's breath is everything you need to respire.

His fingers keep lingering in the hooks of your bra, and it surprises you how he is able to get it off of you on his own.

"No man ever gets it right the first time," your best friend had told you amidst laughter. But Hyunjin just did in his first try. He is just naturally good at everything he does; excelling at random tasks, always getting things perfectly from the very start.

You hardly think about how naked you're in comparison to him, because he presses his chest to yours and your breasts become squeezed by his golden skin. You feel your nipples hardening against him, and you’re fully aware he can feel them too.

Fuck, he can feel them. And his cock gets even harder by that alone.

“Let me see you,” Hyunjin whispers under his breath, but you wrap your arms around his neck, preventing him from taking a step back from you. You shake your head, feeling abruptly overwhelmed by his embrace, as well as the cold air hitting your skin.

“No one has ever seen me naked,” you say.

He knows.

“I want to see you, if you let me,” he swallows thickly, brushing his nose against yours. “Please, let me see you”.

Hyunjin feels your arms releasing some strength, falling limp over his shoulders, and he takes that as an opportunity to walk back just enough to see you.

All of you.

Everything he shouldn't fantasize about, but he does.

“God,” he exhales with a strangled breath, doing everything he possibly can to remain collected.

But it's irrational, and impossible. How can he remain calm when you're standing naked in front of him? Your skin is covered in goosebumps, your nipples are hard and the dark, wet patch on your cotton underwear just tells him that your body needs something only he can give you. How can he be calm throughout any of this?

He can’t, and he is finally coming to terms with it.

“It’s not fair,” you murmur, slyly crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m practically naked, and you still have your pants on”.

Hyunjin listens, but decides to ignore you. Instead, his hands find your crossed arms and he motions for you to drop them, pressing his lips against yours to kiss you one more time.

He swears he might never get tired of kissing you, ever.

“Lay down,” he presses desperate, short kisses against your lips, and you follow his guidance until your back meets the softness of the comforter.

His hands hold the sides of your body, only to drag the last piece of clothing off from your body. And it happens all too fast, that you don't even have time to shy away. Hyunjin lays down between your spread legs, with his hands and arms hooked underneath your thighs, half-lidded eyes looking right at yours.

“Remember,” Hyunjin warns, and the feeling of his warm breath against your core feels too weird and unfamiliar, you mean to close your legs around him but he doesn't allow you to, “tell me if I hurt you”.

Your heart would have exploded inside your chest at the sight, but it doesn't until Hyunjin's tongue meets your pussy for the first time. Then, you feel your heartbeats ringing loudly in your ears.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, holding up your weight with your forearms.

“You’re dripping wet,” he murmurs, nose brushing against your clit while his tongue collects all your arousal, “you must have been wanting this for so long”.

You writhe under his hold, feeling weakened by his words. Your chest feels heavy, and there's a tension on your lower back that prompts you to grind your hips against his face, practically begging for him to do something.

And he does —the tip of his digits slide against your folds, exploring you. He focuses his tongue on your clit, and by that alone you swear you're seeing stars. You thought the stimulation would pretty much feel like your fingers or toys, but it's nothing close to that. It feels foreign, out of your control, and you like that.

“How do you touch yourself?” Hyunjin asks with a deep voice you swear you can't recognize.

Instead of replying, you guide one of your hands to his, that is already wet and sticky, and take two of his fingers, “put them inside”.

He follows your orders, sinking his index and middle finger with such an ease it surprises both of you. Normally, it would take you a while to get wet on your own —right now, it seems that your body is reacting to Hyunjin much faster than you expected.

“So fucking warm,” the mutter is more to himself than to you, but you still catch it. And for some reason, the sound of his voice makes you clench harder around his fingers, “and so tight”.

“Don’t say that,” you kick your head back, closing your eyes shut.

“I know you like it,” he says, a small smile creeping through the corners of his lips, “I can feel it”.

There it is, again. Your walls flutter around his fingers, squeezing them softly at every word he says.

“You like it when I tell you how wet you are?” Hyunjin’s voice is gradually lower now, and his choice of words has the desired effect on you, “don’t lie, I can feel you getting tighter”.

This may be better than any lie detector the world has come to know. Discovered by none other than Hyunjin, right before any other guy all over you could.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, your fingers instinctively latching to his black hair. You don't mean to pull it, but you find yourself using it as leverage, and Hyunjin finds himself groaning at it, “seems like I've discovered something about you too”.

He smiles and presses his lips and nose further against you, pretending to know every single inch of your core with his tongue. It's the first time he has you like this, and he isn't quite sure if he is doing alright —a couple of soft whimpers and quiet, strangled moans are falling from your lips, but that isn’t enough for Hyunjin.

"What else do you do?" He asks, and the question comes out more as a whimper than a casual, nonchalant voice. He is clearly affected by all of this, and you can tell by his hips rut against his bed as he touches you. “When you touch yourself, what else do you do?”

One of your hands leaves his dark hair, and guide to your breasts. It always goes a little bit like that —your dominant hand maneuvers the toy against your clit, and your other hand focuses on your breasts and nipples, pinching and twisting them as you like.

Fuck, well, that's going to be a sight imprinted in Hyunjin's mind forever. The way your back arches as soon as your fingers tease your nipples, the way your chest elevates with a deep inhale. The way your hips buck against Hyunjin's touch, and how your toes curl just slightly at the stimulation.

He soon focuses again on his task, pumping two of his fingers inside you while his tongue takes care of your clit that has become more swollen than initially.

He is doing anything he can to get to know you, to see how his touch is affecting you. And when his middle finger touches a spot inside your walls that he hadn't before, and you let out a guttural moan of his name, Hyunjin stops short.

“Did I-”

He must think he hurt you. But it's all quite the opposite.

“Right there,” you shake your head frantically, acquiring strength from, practically, nowhere to push your body up in your forearms again, “shit, again, do it again”.

And he complies. His middle finger curls, and the reaction he gets is the same, if not more pronounced, from you.

“You’re fucking dripping,” repeatedly, he manages to find a pace of his own. His fingers move slowly and deliciously inside of you, almost always touching that spot that has you moaning louder than before. That, added with the suck of his mouth around your clit, sends you to cloud 9.

You've never felt this before, on your own, and it scares you.

It feels more intense, and slightly painful. Your lower back hurts, you're sweating and you fear you might pee.

It definitely feels as if you're going to pee.

“Hyunjin!” You gasp, your hands pushing him away, “I feel- ‘m gonna make a mess”.

His heart is beating loud in his ears, and he feels the pressure of your thighs squeezing his face. The quick thought that he might be hurting you flies across Hyunjin's mind, but is quickly discarded when your hips move in sensual circles against him.

You must be close.

“Wait!” You gasp, and Hyunjin withdraws from between your legs, but his fingers continue fucking your pussy with an increased pace, “G-god, fuck, I’m-”.

You’re babbling, not making any sense. And Hyunjin feels his dick leaking precum, sticking to his underwear. Never in all his years of life had he been this hard, and it's hurting him to no end. At the same time, it feels deliciously torturing.

He just fears he might come untouched.

“Close?” Hyunjin asks, and you just nod frantically.

As if an expert, his palm hits your clit every time he bottoms his fingers out inside of you. A part of him tells him he should position himself back between your legs and make you come with his mouth and fingers; the other, however, urges him to crawl up, between kneeling and lying next to you, as his available hand guides your chin to him.

The sight is even better like this, Hyunjin thinks —your teary eyes and the hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks with sweat is something he might never be able to forget.

The way you're staring at him like you're scared, and confused, and oh so aroused. He is the reason behind your body shaking and your hands gripping the bed sheets underneath you; the reason behind your cries and whimpers, and the wetness between your legs.

All because of him.

"I think I'm coming," you manage to spit out in a strangled breath, and soon after lose complete control over your body.

Your back arches against his bed, your legs close around his wrist, and your body threatens to push him away. But Hyunjin doesn't let you —he embraces you, holding you in place as you ride your high.

“There you go,” he murmurs, with a soft smile creeping through the corners of his lips.

Your trembling hand wraps around his bicep, and you can barely open your eyes without tearing up. Whatever just happened, you haven't experienced it before.

“Hyunjin,” you whimper yet again, feeling how your walls clench over and over around his fingers. It tired you, both mentally and physically —your toes feel funny from clenching them much, your legs are sore from being spread open for a while now, and your hips feel tired from all the tension that suddenly snapped minutes ago, “holy fuck, Hyunjin”.

“I’m right here,” he tells you while leaving a quick kiss on your lips.

And then another.

And another.

And another, until it turns into a proper kiss, one that isn’t nearly as sloppy or fast as the ones he offered you before. This time, Hyunjin kisses you slowly, carefully, almost as if he is trying to soothe all that tension with his lips.

You place your hands on either side of his face, and he does the same —with ease, he manages to position himself on top of you, with so much care not to put all his weight on top. Hyunjin only breaks the kiss to look at you, and the way your lips form a subtle "o" when you feel his erection pressed against your lower abdomen is enough for him to run out of breath.

“We don’t have to- I mean, we don’t have to do it tonight,” Hyunjin murmurs, his lips barely touching yours. “We can stop right here, I’m okay with-”

“Let’s do it,” you notice how he swallowed thickly and how his bright eyes resembling a deer caught in the headlights stare at you with just the same amount of fear and lust.

To be your first; to mess around together, to experience what sex is all about.

You want this, and he wants this just as much. There's trust, and there is a promise —nothing can go wrong because that's exactly why you're doing it with each other.

Because there's no one else in this world you trust more than Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he exhales, backing away from your body to fully undress himself. And although it's not prohibited to look, you feel insanely awkward when your eyes meet his figure.

Hyunjin doesn't show much skin, not even during the summer days when you visited the beach or his parent's lake house. Seeing him shirtless was already much of a shock, but seeing him fully naked? That is a whole other story.

You feel your cheeks blushing and you need to look away before Hyunjin catches you staring, but it is already too late.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, forcing yourself to keep contact with his eyes rather somewhere else.

Hyunjin licks his lips, and he does so in such a swift movement that it barely registers in your mind. But it does, and you can't stop thinking how attractive he is, and how awfully aroused he is making you feel. It's like your body has a mind of its own, one that's completely enticed by him.

“C’me here,” he kneels in the bed again, hovering your body. His erection pressed against your lower abdomen once again, and you let out an unexpected, almost embarrassing moan just by that alone.

He is hard, and his dick feels warm. You can't help but sneak a hand between your bodies and wrap it around him, making him curse under his breath.

It's the first time you see (in real life, anyway) and touch a dick; you're not sure what you were expecting, but the feeling of it isn't bad. However, it isn’t as nice as the sight of Hyunjin's eyes closed shut, and his bottom lip caught between his lips.

“If you touch me again, I'm going to come,” he warns you.

“And isn’t that what you want?” You ask, stroking him softly. You’re barely discovering how to touch him, but there’s something pleasant about the way you’re exploring him.

“Not before fucking you,” Hyunjin tells you, “I have to make you feel good again”.

He straightens his body slightly and puts a condom on. It is tight around the base, and too slippery for his own liking, but he can't complain about it when you're patiently waiting for him.

Your eyes never abandon his figure, and just the sight of him unwrapping a fucking condom and putting it on is more than enough to make you clench around thin air. And you're too lost in that thought, of how strikingly beautiful Hyunjin looks tonight, that you don't feel any sort of panic until the tip of his dick slides against your slit.

This is really happening, you think to yourself, and suddenly all the oxygen from the room has vanished, leaving you with a heavy chest and an awful sensation that you're choking.

“You okay?” He asks when he catches a glimpse of your furrowed eyebrows.

“Just nervous,” your eyes dart between his face and the parts of your bodies where you almost meet. You've heard awful stories about first times, involving a lot of pain and discomfort; why would yours be any different than those?

You feel your heart beating in anticipation, and your throat gets dry.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Hyunjin says, leaning down to kiss you, “I’ll be careful”.

You nod, because you know he is telling the truth. So you brace yourself by holding his biceps, watching as he guides his dick inside of you.

“Inhale,” he tells you, and you follow. Your lungs get filled with fresh air until they hurt, until you no longer can harbor any more oxygen.

And only then, the tip of it slides right in easily, with just the tiniest bit of discomfort —your fingers and toys are not close to the size he is.

“Fuck”.

“Let it all out,” and you exhale deeply, relaxing underneath him as he finally bottoms out. He stays there, without moving, feeling how your walls adapt to his girth. Hyunjin kisses your cheek, and snuggles his face in the crook of your neck to leave a couple of them there, too, “good job”.

You whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck just as your legs wrap around his hips.

His weight on top of you feels nice, just as it does having him inside of you. But you're desperate to know how he really feels, so you prompt him to move.

“I’ll go slow,” and he sticks to his word. His thrusts are slow, but deep —every time he bottoms out, you moan.

You're just getting used to him, so the way he is fucking you is more than enough for now. And it is enough for him, too —if he goes any faster, he is sure he will come.

But he maintains a certain pace, and your bodies get to meet each other in a way they hadn't before.

“Does it feel good?” You ask him in a murmur, and he hums in response.

“So good,” his eyes never leave yours. “You feel so good, your pussy feels so good”.

You bite your lips, wanting to hold back whatever reaction his words elicit from you.

There's something lewd about his voice, and the way he says things tonight. There's something lewd in the way you like it, too.

“You feel good too,” you compliment him, caressing the sides of his face. “Want to come again, with you”.

Hyunjin nods, as if you’re giving him an order for him to follow. But you might as well have, because he takes it upon himself to give you what you want. One of his hands sneak between your sweaty bodies, and albeit difficult, he manages to position the tip of his fingers over your clit, rubbing it at the same pace as his thrusts.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, closing your eyes shut when you feel a pinch of pain from the overstimulation.

It's crazy how many things Hyunjin has learned about you in the past hour.

“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” He manages to ask, and you nod frantically.

His hand then withdraws from your clit, and when you're about to protest, you notice his mouth is leaning closer to your chest, “what-”.

He then latches his tongue around one of your hardened nipples, and you become a mess of whimpers underneath him.

“And this?” Hyunjin asks with his lips attached to the flesh of your breast, “does it feel good when I do this?”

You might as well have figured something about you.

“It feels so good, Hyunjin,” you chant, with teary eyes that threaten to start bawling in ecstasy, “so good, fuck, so good”.

He continues, sucking on your nipple while his fingers tease the other. And you really seem to like it because you can't stop moaning, because all your hands do is to force him even more against your chest.

“Squeezing me so good,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, losing control of himself as he feels you clenching around him. He's drooling over your breasts, swollen and pink lips dragging across your flesh while his hips start spasming, “God, you’re so fucking tight”.

You sneak a hand between your bodies, and when your digits brush against your clit, you feel your body jolting, and the tension threatening to unravel.

You're so close, again.

And you hope he is close too.

“I’m-” You don't manage to finish the sentence when Hyunjin's fingers replace yours, “Hyunjin!”

You mean to keep your eyes open, to look at him in between, but you finally give up to the overwhelming pleasure. You close them shut, and all you're left with is the feeling of Hyunjin's body against yours, and the sounds you and him are eliciting from each other.

“Close?” And you nod frantically, tightening your limbs around him —your arms around his neck, your legs around his lower back.

You’ve hugged Hyunjin before, but nothing will ever compare to this; to your naked bodies pressing together, to his lips murmuring sweet nothings against yours.

To share something as intimate as an orgasm can be.

“Coming,” you whisper weakly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. And at the same time, Hyunjin lets out a painful, choked groan.

His throat hurt at it, but not nearly as much as the tension finally unraveling did.

Not as much as the sight of your hazy eyes looking up at him as you both come down from your highs.

Not as much as the realization that it was all over.

“Hyunjin,” you whimper again, and your loud heartbeats, and the way you're still clenching around him is preventing him from listening to your voice. He sees your lips moving, but he is too far gone in the bliss of his orgasm to care.

“God,” you close your eyes shut and hide your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent.

You don’t want him to let go of you, to pull out. You want to stay like this for as long as you’re able to.

And Hyunjin wants it too, plopping all of his weight carefully on top of you. He presses a kiss to your temple, and then your forehead. Nothing in his life has ever felt this good before, and he fears he might not be able to live a moment like this again.

"Did I hurt you?" He just has to ask again, now that you're settled between his arms.

You shake your head subtly, and look up at him with so much gloss and sentiment he feels a pinch of hope you feel the same way he feels about you.

"Not once," you exhale, offering the most beautiful smile Hyunjin has seen on you.

And when you press a quick peck to his lips and snuggle right next to him, with your head on his chest and your hand over his abdomen,

he just knows it will happen again.

And again.

Bonus note: If you liked this, PLEASE let me know. I'm kind of nervous putting this out there because I've been away for so long, I'm not even sure if this is any good. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. It is nice to connect with past hobbies to be honest.

Love you all! And take care!

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #kpop smut #smut

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anangelinthepit · 1 day

Text

Without You…

Part 4

Warning ⚠️ - possessive behavior and break in. Uncomfortable topics

************************************************

Noah’s POV

“Oh Ruby, you forgot who you were married to didn’t you ?”

I pushed the guys off of me and let out a frustrated yell. Even though I’m pissed off, I couldn’t help but begin to laugh. One man with all my power doesn’t take losing control gently and welcomes the sweet insanity that follows.

“My wife,” I said looking up at the old broken down building she resided in.

“MY WIFE. The one who is carrying MY son threw me out of her house. This isn’t fucking happening. IM THE ONE WHO CALLS THE FUCKING SHOTS AROUND THIS BITCH.”

After punching the brick wall and kicking over trash cans, the voice of reason began to try and calm my anger.

“Dude, what the fuck was that?” Nick said in a demanding tone

“A conversation between me and the Mrs,” I said lighting a cigarette

“Noah she’s fucking six months pregnant, what were you planning on doing?”

“Oh please, I wasn’t gonna put my hands on her, but she needs to remember who fucking makes the rules around here. Nick, she shouldn’t be in this shady ass fucking apartment with some bitch she barely knows. I didn’t even have to get rid of her forcefully she was willing to run off and sleep with you. What does that tell you ?”

“It tells me that you’ve gone fucking insane and need to rethink what just happened. The woman you love fears you and doesn’t want anything to do with you. Do you have any idea what it takes to stand up to a person like you?”

“Person like me? I’m her fucking husband! She should obey and respect me!”

“You should be fucking thankful you had a woman like her Noah! Whatever happened to be calm or did that just fly out the fucking window?” Nick said crossing his arms

“I tried that Nick, but it seems like my wife forgot that I’m the only one in the relationship who is supposed to have a set of fucking balls!”

“Dude I may be your henchman but I’m also your best friend and I’m telling you this because I care about you. What you did in there just pushed her even further away. You are going to push her into the wrong fucking arms. She is to the point where the only way you’re going to get her back now is if you force her.”

I looked up at Nick and smiled at him. It’s almost like he read my mind.

“Force?” I said to myself

Feeling a sensation of happiness l and pure heat come over me, I gave myself a friendly and encouraging reminder.

I’m the strongest man in fucking California right now. Why didn’t I think of this before? I’ve got all the money, power, and men to control a fucking army. What is stopping me from bringing my wife home?

“No. NO. Noah don’t you fucking dare.” Nick said glaring at me, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Call up Davis and tell him to meet us at the hotel. Ruby is coming home.” I said flicking my cigarette.

“I really gotta watch my fucking words from now on.”

We made our way back to the hotel with Davis and Matt waiting. The only thing I could think about was how my wife was gonna be begging for me to let her come home after all of this. She'll be at my feet, asking for my forgiveness. Of course, I'll have to play hard to get but the least I can do is give in a little.

“You got the blueprints of the building Davis?”

“No, but you’re not gonna need them. This building only has two exits and get this, Sapphire is 1 of 4 other tenants. The damn place is so old you could pull apart the bricks piece by piece.”

“That's it?”

“Yup”

“So what’s the plan here boss?” Matt asked

I took a deep breath and contemplated on if this was a good idea. As much as I hate causing her so much discomfort, this is my only option. I’ll change my ways but first, she needs to come back home to me. She doesn’t understand how much I truly need her, and if she could just stop being stubborn and open her fucking eyes she would see that.

If she won’t come home willing then I’m gonna show her how scary the world is without me there to protect her.

“In two days you guys are going to pay Y/N a visit.”

“What kind of visit?” Nick asked

“You’ll see.”

Nick got up and walked away in disgust. I don't know what his problem is lately but he's turning soft on me. I'm gonna need him to toughen up a bit if he wants to stick with this family.

“Davis go fucking talk to him. I don't have time to give the princess treatment right now.”

Davis grunted and went outside to catch up with Nick. I don't have time for his emotional bullshit. Right now I need to get my Ruby back home and make sure she stays there. Permanently

Nick's POV

“He doesn't fucking deserve her goddamit!”

I yelled throwing a trash can and kicking the remnants that fell. God if only he fucking knew. Does he not understand? He had a good woman next to him and he gave it up for all this bullshit. I lit a cigarette and tried to calm my nerves while Davis came out and asked me if I was okay.

“I'm fine dude I just need a minute.”

“Well, Noah told me to tell you to toughen up.

I laughed at what Davis said, it's so obvious that Noah is wrapped in his world and doesn't have time to be gentle in nurturing anyone. How is that man going to take care of a baby? Y/N was smart to run.

“He doesn't deserve her Davis. You know it and I know it.”

“It's not my business Nick. I work for the man.”

“This can't be happening,” I said dragging my fingers through my hair

“I do know one thing though, if you keep running your mouth and don't control that serpent that's in your pants, He's gonna make me cut it off and force you to watch..”

I couldn't help but scoff at him.

“You know don’t you?” I asked

“Seriously? Are you trying to get me killed too? If I admit what I know then we’re both in deep shit. I don’t like the way he treats her either but overstepping boundaries with him is not something I have the balls to do. I don’t think you realize you dug your own grave, Nick.”

I looked up at the sky for answers but as always received nothing. Did I make a mistake? What am I gonna do when he finds out and will I be able to handle him?

“I don’t know if I can pretend anymore.”

“Look dude, fake it till you make it. Fuck some other girl or smoke some weed. I don't care, just figure it out. Also, don't make me a fucking accomplice to whatever Lifetime movie bullshit you got going on. Got it?”

I flicked my cigarette and went back inside. I’m gonna have to keep this bullshit cover-up for a little while longer, and even though it kills me, I’m willing to do it.

I’m willing to do anything for her.

Noah and Matt were talking but stood abruptly and stared at me when I walked into the room. I’ll play my card right and keep the poker face that I’m so good at having on.

“I'm ready for whatever you need me for Boss.”

Noah shot me a smirk and waved me over. Hearing them talk over the plan made my gut turn, but having to agree with it was even worse.

Poison on my fucking tongue

Two days later

Y/N’s POV

I’m still feeling shaken up about what happened. I couldn't focus at work and Sapphire began to notice I was dwelling on how things needed between Noah and me. I’ve never seen him get so angry at me, now of course we had our fights but what I witnessed was what I can only consider as maximum rage. I used to think he would never lay his hands on me but him flipping that table the way he did now has me second-guessing. Six months pregnant and he almost put me in harm's way.

“You’re fucking mine!”

“I'm not his fucking wife, I'm his goddamn property,” I said to myself shaking my head. Why the hell did I ever agree to this?

The moonlight shined down on me after another shitty night at the bar. I waved goodbye to my boss and made the drive home. Still feeling on edge I got to the apartment and was met once again with silence. I began to get nervous as I called out for Sapphire, I heard nothing until I went towards her room and could hear her shower running. Having a wave of relief come over me, I went into my room and tried to wind down for the night. Sitting down on the bed trying to massage my swollen feet, I realized skipping out on a shared probably wasn’t in my best interest. I smelled like sweat and unwanted married men's hormones crawling all over me. I let out a huge sigh and made my way to the bathroom when I got a text.

It was from Sapphire

Sapphire

Hey, I met this really cute guy, so I'm gonna chill at his place 2night. Wish me luck ;)

Oh so is that why you're in the shower? Lmfao gurll you do you. Just careful

I smiled and just shook my head at my bestie's promiscuous ways. I figured I should offer her a ride to this guy's house because I don't want her walking and it also gives me an excuse to go get Chinese food. As I made my way to her bedroom door, I received another text.

Sapphire

The shower? Girl I wish, my boss is making me close 2night so I still have another two hours left.

What…

Feeling my heart drop into my fucking stomach, I read over her message about 10 times. I frantically texted her back telling her that someone was in our apartment and what I should do.

Just like in a horror movie with an awful plot. The lights cut out in the fucking apartment, I wanted to scream but was too scared to do so. I slowly began to move away from her door and tried my hardest to make my way back to my bedroom to call the police. I began to back up, trying to not make myself noticeable to whoever was in her room. I could hear the shower water cut off, it was almost like the intruder was listening for my footsteps. I wasn't too far from my room when I heard frantic running in Sapphires. Whoever was in there heard me and was now making it their mission to get me. As my fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, I swiftly turned around to flee, only to be met by a tall figure who was as tough as concrete. Being shoved to the ground I began screaming and crying for them not to hurt me.

“Please, I'm pregnant! Don't hurt me I'm begging you!”

I could hear the men laughing as I struggled to back away from them. Not realizing my surroundings I ended up being backed into the wall.

“MY HUSBAND IS NOAH SEBASTIAN DAVIS, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME HE’LL FUCKING KILL ALL OF YOU!”

Even in pitch-black darkness, I could tell that one of the men was only a couple of inches away from my face. I could feel and smell his hot breath in which I almost began to vomit. He put his hand on my stomach and leaned in to whisper in my ear

“Oh, babydoll.”

Those words cut through me like a knife

“I need you to do me a favor okay?”

I could feel something cold and sharp press against my neck and slid down to expose the cleavage under my shirt

“You tell Noah I said Hello, and if he ever lets you go again, I'm just gonna have to keep you.”

They kissed my forehead which caused me to break out into a cold sweat. God his lips felt dirty and unpure.

“Let's go boys!”

I heard what sounded like 4-5 men walk away from me and go towards my front door. My theory was confirmed when the hallway light shined in illuminating 5 men.

Before closing it, the one masked man gave me the “hush” sign and a creepy smile.

I lay there on the dirty hard wooden floor sobbing and falling apart. Making myself have enough courage and energy to get up and grab the phone. I dialed frantically and prayed he would pick up.

“Ruby?”

“Noah? Oh, thank God. Please listen to me, you have to come get me.

“Ruby, what happened?

“These. These m-men broke into my apartment and shoved me down for the g-ground.”

“Ruby slow down I can't understand you.”

I was shaking uncontrollably but I needed to pull myself together. I took a deep breath brought the phone back up to my ear and explained what happened.

“Noah I think there's a Rival group because they told me to tell you, that they're watching and if you let me go again they're gonna kidnap me. Noah Im so fucking scared please come get me!”

I fell back into hysterics and just wanted my husband. He's a fucking psycho but at least no one messed with me when I was with him.

“Are you and the baby okay?”

“Yes yes, Theo and I are fine. They just shoved me, I was able to catch myself so it wasn't so hard. Just please come get us.”

I heard nothing but silence on the phone. What the fcuk did he hang up on me? God if I can’t rely on him anymore then please protect me and my baby.

“Noah?”

“Do you finally get it, Ruby?”

“What?”

“I said do you finally get it?”

“Baby please stop, just come get me. Please!”

God, why is he making me beg?

“I can't protect you if you run away and try to be “miss independent”. Your life was always good here. If I come and get you, you better not pull this stunt ever again. There will be security in you 24/7 got it?”

I wanted to protest but the sound of phantom footsteps kept psyching me out. I didn't care anymore I just wanted to go home.

“Okay, okay, baby I will never do this again I swear, just please come get us. Noah, I can't do this on my own.”

Noah let out a huge sigh and told me he would be in about 10 minutes. I hurried and gathered my things and waited. Every minute felt like centuries, praying that those monsters wouldn't come back. I got a text from Noah saying he was here and sending Nick up to help me to the car. Oh, why couldn't it have been someone else? I waited for what seemed like forever and started to feel a nervous feeling in the bottom of my gut. I haven't seen Nick in so long, I almost forgot what he looked like. Hearing a pounding on my door, I ran over, took a deep breath, and opened it. I was met with long black hair, beautiful green eyes, and a warm smile that was always so welcoming.

“Nick”

“Y/N”

I don't know what it was but something about his smile made me collapse into his arms and start sobbing. His tight hold on me already made me feel so safe that the thought of letting go hurt.

“I got you, Angel.”

My legs could no longer hold me up and we slid down to the floor together.

“Oh, Nick. Please don't let me go.” I said sobbing into his chest

“You know I have to Angel, he's down there waiting for us.“

Nick caressed my face and made me look at him.

“Be my strong girl for me one more time, okay?

“Okay.”

Nick helped me up and walked me down to the limo. Jolly was waiting for me outside the vehicle and opened the door for me when I closed enough. I got in and could feel the tension in the air once again. Noah sat across from me with an evil look on his face. I'm not sure what I was expecting but this wasn't it. We began to drive and were only 10 minutes away from the house. I couldn't wait to shower and sleep in my bed again. I knew I wouldn't be let off so easily with this, I looked away from the window and saw that Noah was glaring at me while Nick was still facing the other way. I broke the silence and spoke which I should have known was a mistake.

“Thank you.”

Noah leaned forward and said, in a low deep growl.

“Get on your knees”

“Pardon?”

Nick snapped out of his trance and tried to grasp the situation.

“Noah she's six months pregnant, don't do this right now,” Nick begged

“Stay the fuck out of this Nick.” Noah snapped

“I said on your knees, Ruby”

I did as I was told, and got on the limo floor gently going down in my knees.

Noah yanked my chin upward forcing me to look him in the eyes.

“This is how obedient you are going to be from now on. Understand?”

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Yes”

“Get the hell up and sit there. We will talk more when we get back to the house.”

I got back up in the seat and wiped my tears. How is it that I trade one evil for another? I can't keep doing this anymore, I started to regret my decision but now it's too late. I looked over at Nick who was having a stare-down with Noah. I wish he would just look at me and not trouble the waters that we got ourselves into.

I need him right now and I don’t know how much longer I will be able to play pretend.

**********************************************

Hey guys, sorry it took so long. This story really had me wondering what I should do with. I hope you all enjoyed. Love you dearly

-Magenta 🌹

Taglist

@reyadawn @bloodylullaby @fadingintothegrey @aubrey-melinoe @supersquirrel1996 @thisbicc @amelia-acero @dreamstyles @ashdreamsalone @iluvmewwwww75 @lma1986 @concreteemo

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noahsebastiancult #noah sebastian davis #beautiful man #i love him #love him #baby boi #nick bad omens #nick ruffilo #noah sebastian reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #nick ruffilo fanfiction

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suncchaser · 1 day

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I am so done with this situation and I feel like addressing it.

Jegulus shippers not only mistag posts, but have now started tagging their anti-Jily bullshit posts under the Jily tag and forcing the rest of us to read that shit and I am done with it.

How dare you go on the tag of a ship to rant about how they don't make sense to you when you have an entire account dedicated to a crackship with no canon basis between two characters who would never look twice at one another? "She hated him, she couldn't have changed her mind." Well, she did not and why she did was clearly explained in the books, so maybe read before you comment idiotic things. The breakdown of her friendship with Snape and James’ change of attitude and them becoming Head Boy and Head Girl together are the reason. Also, keep your fake love for Lily to yourselves because no one's buying it. You love Lily so much and yet, 90% of Lily-centred content is still coming from Jily shippers, you know, the people who you claim give her no personality outside of being James' wife and Harry's mother. While in Jegulus content, she's either treated as a surrogate or James' second choice or in a barely mentioned w/w with any random character you decide to pair her with. Also, if James is so horrible to the point you claim she deserves better than him how come you have entire accounts dedicated to him and a ship involving him? James is perfect for your darling boy Reggie but a terrible partner for Lily?

Also, I really do not give a single fuck if you don't want to ship Jily because boo hoo, Jily shippers are so mean to you. No one is ruining your online experience, no one is not allowing you to have fun. YOU ARE THE ONES DOING THAT TO EVERYONE ELSE. With constant mistagging to gain traction on your posts, literally invading every character/ship tags with your bullshit, constantly commenting under Jily content begging for Jegulus versions of it or inserting Jegulus/Regulus. There is a reason why most people who do not ship Jegulus do not like you. It's not jealousy or a big conspiracy. Most of you are just delusional and very fucking annoying.

#anyway good evening #jily #lily evans #james potter #anti jegulus #kat yaps

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feather-and-roses · 1 day

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The crazy thing to me about Eurylochus staging a mutiny is like... He's such a worse captain? Like this guy delivers shit call after shit call and then is all "How dare you" when Odysseus makes a hard decision that very well could have been the right one.

Like in the third song, he's like, "let's take 600 men and go raid this island and kill everything in our path." Then it's "let's kill the Cyclops and lock us all in his cave," and then when Odysseus is being all big brain and they are explicitly surrounded by Cyclops, he's like, fuck it, lets run for our lives actually.

And then mother fucker opens the wind bag when they're five minutes from home because he just routinely makes a habit of not trusting the guy who's like a brother to him.

And then he wants to leave the men on Circe's island. Just fuck those guys. And Odysseus says no actually those are my guys I'm gonna save them, and Eurylochus has a whole song bitching and moaning about please let's just screw those guys she's so scary.

And then as if that's not enough, Odysseus makes a call that you just know breaks his fucking heart, and Eurylochus, who has killed 567 men with his own curiosity, looks at the man who killed 6 out of necessity, and says "I could be a better captain than you."

And Odysseus forgives him. Until the very end he's begging Eurylochus to just listen. To just trust him. "We can get home." He doesn't plan to leave Eurylochus behind, he wants to get them both home. He doesn't abandon Eurylochus until it becomes either or. And even then he has the decency to feel sorry about it. To mourn him. To remember him as a brother and not a traitor.

#isolde talks #epic the musical #eurylochus #epic the cyclops saga #epic: the musical #epic the troy saga #epic the wisdom saga #epic the thunder saga #epic the underworld saga #epic #the odyssey

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theinheriteddutchess · 3 days

Text

Out Of Time

Pairing: Ari Levinson x reader

Summary: You hate Ari. It's not a secret to him. Your father died protecting you, and you would die to protect your bother. But he's waited almost 10 years, time's running out, and he won't let you go that easily.

Word count: almost 2400

Warnings: threat of death, Ari is a jerk, mentions of previous death, werewolf Pack have different rules and morals, yandere!Ari, nothing explicit

Notes: randomly started writing this a while ago, found out I actually liked it. Might make more if I get inspiration, but I will follow where the wind blows me, so until then it's a stand alone. Would love to hear if you like it, reblog ,comments, ask. I don't bite (only Sebastian Stan's butt is under threat).💕

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

It was a mistake. He didn't deserve to be punished so severely. He was only a little boy.

But rules were strict in this pack. You behaved, or they made you behave. Still, death seemed to be too harsh for an nine year old. He had taken the mating necklace. But he was not thinking further than trying it, having admired it from a distance. He probably hadn't known what it was for, because Ari hadn’t used it yet. But it was sometimes talked about. Something the pack Alpha owned. He had just been looking up to his Alpha. Wanting to be like him.

You didn't feel the same way about Ari. You knew all about the rules. And Ari had proven to follow them strictly. That's how he killed your father.

You never looked at him the same.

You were repulsed by your mother, who kept telling you Ari had been young and still needed to establish his position.

He had been young. Twenty-two. Young for a pack Alpha. But he had always been strong. He had challenged the previous leader, Andy, who had been gentler. Andy was kinder in his approach, gave a little more leeway. It had cost him though. Ari had been coming off his rut, full of adrenaline, and Andy had let his guard down. Before you knew it, there had been a fight and soon Andy laid lifelessly on the ground.

Ari was Pack leader, and he wasn't as kind. He made it clear he demanded absolute obedience. And his height, as well as the weight in muscle he carried around, oozed dominance which most wolves didn't dare challenge.

Your father had soon been killed after. He had tried to shield you from the cruel Alpha and it had cost him his life. Still, his death did protect you. It was honorable to not pursue you after. And in your mind the last mate you wanted to have was him.

Your mother mated again with someone else, too soon for your liking, and Mico was born shortly after. Life had to go on, even if you silently resented it.

But now your brother was to be put to death. And terror swept through you as you raced to reason with Ari. You had little hope you would get through him. But you had to try.

As you halted in front of his den, you breathed heavily. You tried to calm your racing heart, tried to gather your thoughts. You needed to be calm.

You stepped inside, and waited at the entrance, if you got in any further you would have a big chance to be punished yourself and then your brother stood no chance.

“I expected you would come.” It sounded from further inside. You couldn't see him yet. The shadow shielding him effectively.

“He's my brother. Of course I would.” You replied. You kept your eyes on the ground. It was a sign of respect, but mostly you did it because his face disgusted you. You didn't know how you could pretend otherwise.

“So let's hear it. I'm assuming you're going to beg for his life?”

You gnashed your teeth. The mocking tone in his voice annoying you greatly, but what could you do?

“He's only nine. you know it wasn't done to disrespect you. In fact, there's no other he admires more.”

“And yet it was disrespectful.” he answered calmly. Deceivingly so. ”Any other I would have killed on the spot.”

“He's a child.” Tiny still for his age even. “He was curious. You could forgive him.”

“And show weakness to the pack? Now that would be foolish.”

“It wouldn't be weakness. It would be kind. Merciful.”

“Like Andy?” His cold voice sounded nearer, he was moving. “Need I remind you what happened to your favorite Alpha? Long gone, buried in the cold ground. More bones than flesh.”

“Andy was good.” You hissed.

“Unlike me? That's what you mean right? You think I'm cruel?”

You refused to answer. It didn't matter.

“I can be cruel, keep testing me and I will show how cruel I can be, little one.”

“I'm not here to argue.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I'm asking you to spare his life.”

He chuckled. “Braver than your mother.”

You smelled him so much stronger now. A deep, rich scent. Clean. Not unpleasant. His face came into view. Blank. His expression showed nothing about what he was feeling.

“Go on, tell me how I should save him. Punish him in a different way. Letting everyone know you can steal from me and get away with it.”

You looked up at him, forgetting the rules, forgetting the need for respect. “If a child is threatening to you, maybe you're not worthy being Alpha.”

“Careful. I wouldn't want to put you next to your brother.” He warned calmly.

“If you did, It would only prove my point.”

He let out a laugh. “Here I was, thinking you'd plead. But of course you wouldn't. You have too much pride. Like your father did. When he tried to turn me away.”

“At least he had guts. He died protecting me.”

“But died he did.”

Your fists balled. How you would love to rip his face to shreds, but you couldn't. It would help no one.

“He died so I could be free.”

“For now. Time is running out, and who will protect you now? Your mother? Her mate?” He grinned.

No, they wouldn't. And you knew it. Your mother was submissive. Her mate was decent, but not strong enough to take on Ari. Or willing to risk it.

“I will see when the time comes. Perhaps I will leave before it. And there are other ways.”

“I will not let you. If you mate with someone else I will challenge them. And they will lose. Their death will be on your conscience.”

There, he said it. The possessiveness so clear in his voice. His body tense, like he was ready to spring into action.

“You would kill the man I choose to be with? And you wonder why I hate you?” You told him with contempt in your tone. “Perhaps I wasn't even talking about mating another. Perhaps if I can't leave, I will make sure you won't ever have me. There are ways. And I'm not afraid to die.”

“You would kill yourself?” he was surprised. Offended even.

You shrugged, “There's things worse than death.”

“Any woman would be proud to be chosen!”

“Then pick one of them. I do not want you.” You snapped. “And I did not come here to talk about you or me, in any capacity. I came to talk about my brother.”

“And I have already made judgement. He will stand in front of the pack and he will fight me. There's nothing you will say to change what is already decided.”

It was ridiculous. To have a boy fight a grown man, three heads taller than him. He would never win. It was a joke of a trial.

“He can not beat you! Show some kindness, if you have any” you snarled.

“You always say I don't have any,” he lazily replied.

“I will never forgive you for this,” you growled.

“I'm sure I can manage your hatred after all these years of it,” he said, like he was already bored of the conversation. “It won't change a thing.”

“We will see,” you mumbled. You turned to walk away, but he called you back.

“Kneel.”

You froze, but you knew you had to. Your knees touching the ground beneath you fluently. Head down. Respectful. How you resented it.

“See, you can listen,” he told you amusedly. “If only you did it more often.”

You kept quiet. He was taunting you, and you were done with this conversation. You waited till he dismissed you, and quickly left his residence.

Your mother was holding back tears, yet you did not pity her. She was supposed to watch him, teach him. And most of all, protect him. Did she even try to reason with Ari? You had doubts. She would weep and grieve, but was she willing to give up her life? Not without permission from him. How pathetic.

You knew the pack needed to listen to its leader. It was how it was done. But surely, for a child, rules were meant to bend.

You watched Mico as he sat trembling with fear, waiting for the moment he was called.

He wouldn't run. Going out there alone, especially at his age, meant death. And perhaps a prolonged one.

You laid a hand on his head and bend down.

“Do not fear him. I will be there and I'm not going to let him hurt you.” You told him softly, a whisper only he could hear.

“You can't go against him,” he told you. Eyes big with tears. So young still. And such a burden to carry.

“It will be alright. You're my little brother. I will always look after you.”

He threw his arms around you and silently cried in your arms. You let him let it out until he tired himself out, falling asleep on your shoulder, completely exhausted from the last 24 hours.

Andy would have never put him through this. He was gentler. Fierce in his own way, but he was reasonable. Ari didn't care. He only cared about the respect he got from the group.

So at night, you gathered.

It was a solemn mood. You all knew what was going to happen. The whole pack was there, staring at their leader and the boy next to him, waiting for him to speak.

Ari straightened and raised his voice, letting it carry, even to the ones standing at the back. “We all know what happened. We all know the punishment for stealing from your Alpha! It is nothing less than death!”

A murmur rose in the crowd, affirmative, but sad. No one wanted to see a kid die. They all saw Mico as one of them, it could've been their child, if they didn't pay attention. They all were reminded to watch their children's every move. To prevent them from having to stand out there, awaiting the execution. It was a harsh lesson.

You ignored your mother's teary eyes and rough breathing. She had not once interfered. Your lip pulled up in a disgusted snarl. You would never look at her the same after this. When your father died there might never be a close bond with her again, especially not because she seemed intent to move on quickly. But her child… you couldn't believe, even now, she did nothing.

“It is one of our oldest rules and must be respected. Before dawn his life will end. It can be a swift death” at this Ari turned to Mico, almost amusedly before he continued. “Unless you wish to fight me for it?!”

You growled, fist balling at the mockery of that question. Even if he had changed the sentence, something you had been surprised about, it was still death. If he accepted, his life would end swiftly, fight Ari, and his death would be brutal and it would happen slow.

“I challenge you!” You raised your voice.

Some people gasped, others just turned to look at you.

Your mother mumbled “no!”, but you ignored her, as well as her hand that tried to prevent you from stepping forward.

“My life, or yours, for his.” You said while you marched forward. “Either way, he lives.”

You saw a moment of surprise in his eyes, it didn't last long. He still had that amused smile on his face. “You, little one? You wished to fight me.”

You wished him dead.

“Yes, instead of him. It is law.”

“It is.” He watched you with dark eyes, thinking. “But I do not wish to fight you.”

‘You will’, you thought, ‘you have to’. “I have challenged you!”

“And I decline,” he shrugged. “Your death would be meaningless. Honorable perhaps, but utterly useless. No. A fight will not happen. But there is a way to settle this.”

You didn't like hearing that. Ari could be callous if he wanted to be, and you hadn't counted on him denying you this fight.

“He stole the Mating Necklace. The oldest relic we have, passed down generations, only for the Pack's Alpha to gift for his chosen mate. Will it not be fair then, if I'm gifted something in return? The necklace for a bride?”

You swallowed, you knew what he was trying to do. This had not been the plan. You had expected him to take your offer. You hadn’t expected to win, he was too strong, but you were fierce, you would have made it difficult, and you would have had purpose. In a way, you would have had freedom.

Everyone seemed to like the idea however. What a great way to end this horrible ordeal. The child would live, and their Alpha would finally have a mate. Perhaps soon there would be another celebration if the Union would be fruitful.

You felt the excitement go through the group. The energy almost touchable.

You started sweating, eyes darting around, before finally settling on the trees nearby. You had no chance to make a run for it now. Ari was watching you intensely. Like he expected you to. He would make chase. He would not hold back.

It was like he said; he would not let you leave.

“What will it be, hmm? Your brother’s life, or yours?”

You took a step to lash out, to trigger a fight, but your brother piped up quickly, reading you like a book. “I will die. Please, I will. It's okay.”

He only looked at you, and it broke you. Freezing where you stood, you could only look back. He was trying to protect you. And that most of all settled it. You could not lose him, and you had no other options.

“I accept,” you whispered.

There was a cheer, but you ignored it. People were crowding you, congratulating, touching, laughing, you did not care. You knew your life would not be yours.

Your eyes broke contact with your brother in the jostle of the excitement of others.

You still saw Ari though, his smile wide with satisfaction and victory.

He had what he wanted for so long.

#Ari Levinson fanfiction #Ari Levinson x reader #Ari Levinson x you #werewolf au #werewolf!ari Levinson #mean Ari #fanfiction #Chris Evans fanfiction #out of time #yandere!ari Levinson

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ghoulfuckersincorporated · 3 days

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If I have to deal with brain rot about this absolutely awful man, so do y'all! Really looking forward to playing Dead Money so I can torture you with more.

Dean Domino (Fallout: New Vegas, Dead Money DLC) NSFW Headcanons

Is the King of Swing good in bed? Complicated question; he's too selfish to say that he is with any confidence. It depends on the day, frankly. He was a massive slut back in his prime, and he's perfectly well acquainted with how to show you a good time when the two of you are in bed together. Whether or not he cares enough in that moment to bother to make you cum is an entirely different matter. There are days he wants to show off, wants to hear you tell him how good he is, but there are also plenty of days where he'll happily use your body to jerk himself off and won't think for a second about your pleasure beyond what it'll do for him. On days like that, he wants you wet/stretched enough to take him, but that's all he cares about.

I've discussed this with folks a bit in replies on other posts, but I think it's very worth elaborating on: he would be so fun to dominate. He'd be the world's most petulant, bratty sub, and so confident that you wouldn't be able to break him, that he'll stay cool and in control of the situation, no problem. However, he's sorely mistaken. Dean Domino is a brat who was made to be broken. Tie his ass up and beat him a bit. Edge him until he literally cries. He insists he won't beg; prove him wrong. It's the sweetest sight you've ever taken in. I've never met a single character who needs to have his cock slapped like a million times more than him. And honestly, I think if you gave him the full routine and then treated him completely neutrally over the proceeding few days, as if nothing had even happened, he'd beg then, too, desperate to experience what you made him feel again...though not without a lot of petulant bitching first. How dare you act like you can drag him around by his prick, just because you absolutely can if you do it right...?!

Any ongoing relationship with Dean is going to be a constant power struggle. As insecure as he obviously is, he's forever rearing to "put you in your place" in a litany of ways; talking down to you, insulting you flippantly, all the nonsense you see from him when you interact with him in-game. If you don't push back at him (or show him where his place is, per the previous point), he will absolutely walk all over you, including sexually. Maybe that's what you're into. He doesn't really care all that much as long as he's getting whatever he wants out of you.

Biter. Always has been. Used to get a kick outta fucking actors and actresses and just covering them in bite marks and bruises that would be incredibly difficult to cover with makeup, because he likes attention and he's possessive, even of toys he doesn't particularly want to play with anymore.

Almost never takes off those goddamn sunglasses (because, in my mind, he thinks they make him harder to read...plus, he has super light-colored eyes, and once he's traveling the desert, he's constantly blinded by the sun), but one of the rare times you can guarantee he'll remove them is when you're giving him head. He wants to be able to see every detail of you worshiping him with your lips and tongue.

Obviously he's big into degradation, which is clear in the way he speaks to you, about you and others. He can, however, be persuaded to be rather sweet (though still entirely self-aggrandizing) when he's in a good mood. He'll tell you how gorgeous you look...on his cock. What a pretty voice you have...why don't you sing for him some more so he can hear how good he makes you feel? Every compliment also has to basically be a positive comment to himself, as well.

Leg and ass man. He makes some comments about Vera that hint at this, but he's not usually quite so tactful about it. Will openly grope you in public, both to embarrass you a bit and because he doesn't care enough to hold back when he feels like touching you.

Really enjoys a giving you a good cum facial. He finds it just the right mix of disgusting, dominating, and possessive. If he can find a way to force you to keep his cum on your face, he will. Even better if someone else sees you that way.

#dean domino #dean domino x courier six #dean domino x reader #fallout new vegas #fnv dead money #dead money

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therandomfandomme · 1 day

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The way open and closed eyes are used in Epic is so interesting to me, because yeah there is the 'The Underworld' and 'Love in Paradise' parallel, but it already starts in 'Just a Man' when Odysseus tells the infant:

"Close your eyes and spare yourself the view How could I hurt you?"

In that moment, he believes that if Hector's son just closes his eyes, he won't witness this horrible thing Odysseus is about to do to him, that he can be shielded from all the bad Odysseus has done.

So, in Odysseus mind the closing of eyes is a reprieve of the horrors, which is interesting when he comes to Aeolus with the wind bag. Specifically, Aeolus in 'Keep Your Friends Close' telling him:

"Just keep your eyes open."

This kind of echoes that messaging of him having to do this hard thing - stay awake so the wind bag doesn't get opened and he doesn't have to kill his crew - and then he'll be home. He has to do the hard thing, witness it and then he'll be home. The moment, he takes a reprieve from witnessing the bad, it goes wrong. Then we get to 'The Underworld' where we get:

"All I hear are screams, every time I dare to close my eyes"

Odysseus can't get that reprieve of closing his eyes anymore, he tries to look away from all the bad that has happened, the bad he's done, but he can't escape it anymore, it follows him every time he even dares to think of turning away from his past, his actions.

Which to me makes 'Love in Paradise' all the more horrifying, because then we get Odysseus on the edge of the cliff, saying:

"Let me close my eyes"

He's begging to escape having to witness the bad that is happening to him. He knows that closing his eyes won't let him escape his own actions, that he'll still hear the screams, but he's still desperate to close his eyes. He is now the infant, wanting to spare himself the view of what is being done to him. He would much rather be held company by his own actions, than Calypso's. And that is just terrifying to me.

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princess-geek · 13 hours

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White Peonies (Part II)

Book: Desire & Decorum

Series: Unspoken Desires (Modern Desire & Decorum AU)

Summary: Another peek into the past, this time to lift the veil on Mary’s life and three generations of fascinating women of the Howard family. (Parte I here)

Main Pairing: Vincent Foredale x Mary Howard.

Word Count: +/- 7572 words

Rating: General (but with light mentions to adult/violent situations, sickness and death).

Notes: 💖English is not my first language. Please, excuse me for any typos /or grammatical errors. 💖Special thanks to @rosesnink for proofreading.

💖 This is my submission for @choicesficwriterscreations ‘Fics of the week’

On the previous chapter...

Hurting her finger, Mary snatched the ring and threw it at him. Her hand was bleeding, but what were a few scratches on a finger compared with the abyss that he had opened in her heart?

Vincent took the ring from the floor. “Mary, my love, please, don’t do this.”

“Don’t dare to call me that ever again! Get out of my house! Now!”

Vincent did as she had told him. Tears ran down his face as he collected his belongings. She couldn't look at him.

As soon as he closed the door, Mary collapsed, crying her pain and screaming her fury.

The young woman lost count of the hours she spent in that dark hole. When Mary came to her senses, she looked out the window and saw that it was a starry night.

Her whole body hurt. As for her heart, Mary wasn't sure if it was there or not. She felt frozen. With great effort, she dragged herself from the floor to the sofa, covering herself with a blanket forgotten on the floor. It was impossible to return to the same bed where hours before they had worshipped each other and pledged their love.

Mary didn't know if she had slept or not, but in the morning, she felt desperately hungry, despite not feeling like eating. She tried to eat a couple of biscuits; however, her stomach didn’t hold them for long.

At some point in the day, she heard Vincent at her door. He stayed there for hours, begging her to listen to him. Fortunately, a neighbour threatened to call the police if he didn't leave, and Vincent eventually did. This happened repeatedly all week.

For days, Mary barely moved from the couch. When her tears dried up until the next round, lethargy took over her.

Around the weekend, Mrs. Lemay could persuade Mary to open the door. Although she had not read the article on Sunday, articles about the upcoming wedding multiplied in the newspapers over the week.

She found her friend a wreck. Mrs. Lemay was not going to allow the young girl to sink into heartbreak. She made Mary have a bath, changed the bedsheets, and cooked her a proper dinner.

“Luckily, there is not a word about you. At least, you will not be publicly persecuted by this shadow forever.” Mrs. Lemay tried to console her.

“Screw my reputation.” Mary mumbled between spoons of soup.

“Vincent was in my office looking for you, desperate for any information about your whereabouts.”

“Screw him too! He was at my door several times. I am not interested in anything he has to say.”

Thinking that it might bring Mary some peace, Mrs. Lemay told her that there were rumours going around that the Foredale were broke and the marriage was purely a business deal, despite the excitement about the engagement in the magazines.

“She’s a fat cat widow. It’s the tale as old as time: She gives the money, and he gives the title.” Mrs. Lemay concluded.

“It's always nice to know I am worth less than a couple of thousand pounds.”

“If the rumours are true, he is being sold as a horse. It’s a pity.” Mary mumbled something unintelligible. “I know you are hurt and furious, I’d be too.” Mrs. Lemay continued. “Nevertheless, this is all very odd, Mary. Vincent is in love with you in a way I've seen few people in love with someone. Since that night at St. James's, I have seen nothing in him but devotion to you. He'd rather lose an arm than make a scratch on you. I can't stop thinking there has to be a reasonable explanation for this.”

“Of course there is. In that case, there are thousands of reasons… in her bank account.” Mary sulked.

“He was not convinced when I claimed I couldn't help him. I’m sure he will keep trying to reach you, and I think you should give him a chance to explain himself. You might regret it if you don't,” Mrs. Lemay insisted.

“He betrayed my trust in him. I think I would rather have caught him in bed with her than this circus. He has been playing with me for months, like I was a doll. I won't be his or anyone else's doll.” Mary was adamant.

“Anger and pain are not good advisors. You need to clear your head. Why don't you go spend a few days in your hometown? Some days away from London will help you organise your head and heart.”

“I will not change my mind.”

“You may not change your mind, but you need to think about what you're going to do from now on. Life doesn't stop just because your heart is broken.”

Following her advice, Mary decided to spend a few weeks in Grovershire.

Mrs. Lemay was right. Leaving London didn't glue the pieces of her heart together. However, focusing on making repairs to her grandparents' cottage and garden made Mary find some serenity in the midst of the chaos.

That house was full of so many good memories that even sadness gave her some respite.

While she was cleaning up things in the kitchen, Mary found her grandmother's handmade 'Moka'. It was one of the few things that Elena had brought with her from Italy.

“I only had three things in my suitcase: an old coat, the 'Moka' and the recipe book that I stole from my mother.” Elena told her granddaughter many times.

When she was a little girl, Mary fascinatedly watched her grandmother prepare coffee there, as if it were a magical ritual. Her favourite part was sucking on the spoon after Elena added the sugar.

It was the best coffee in the world, and Mary could still almost taste it. She ran to the grocery store to buy coffee beans. Replicating her grandmother's ritual made her feel really good for the rest of that day.

Grovershire itself had little changed. Mary missed many familiar faces and came face-to-face with new ones in the neighbourhood.

The new and old neighbours were curious about her extended stay, and, of course, theories about it soon emerged through the inhabitant’s small talk. To avoid uncomfortable questions, Mary said that her fiancé, Vincent Ford, had died in a car accident, and she was spending some time there to get herself together.

Although it was a hoax, for her it was not entirely a lie. She really felt that the man she loved had died on that day.

Right across the street, George Daly, her former classmate and neighbour, had married Pavarti, an Indian girl who had arrived there in their final year of high school.

They weren't very close at that time, yet Pavarti was the first to go to the cottage to visit her. Although she was in the last trimester of her pregnancy, Pavarti helped in whatever way she could, especially in the garden.

Between pulling weeds and planting flowers, there was time for long conversations. A deep friendship blossomed between the two young women. Pavarti was the only one who knew the truth about Vincent.

George spent many days away because of his work, so it was common for them to cook together. One late afternoon, Pavarti was cooking dinner. Mary suddenly left the kitchen, without saying a word. Pavarti found her on the balcony.

“If you don't feel like my fish curry and chips, just say so, you don’t need to run away from my kitchen. I have some roast lamb from the weekend in the fridge...”

“I'm sorry, Pavarti, but I think I'll have dinner. I think the tea house's chocolate cake wasn't as fresh as it should have been.”

“Are you sure it was just the chocolate cake? You barely touched it. In fact, you have barely eaten.”

“Nerves are bad for my stomach. It has always happened to me since I was little.”

“How long have you been feeling this way?”

“I don’t know exactly, maybe for a few weeks now. Not just the stomach. Everything in me has been messed up since...that day.” Mary still had difficulties referring to the topic.

“Have you considered the possibility of being pregnant?” Mary looked at Pavarti as if she had uttered the most absurd of statements. Parvati went away for a while and came back with a small box in her hand. “Take it! You can do it here or at home, but the sooner you know, the better.”

After spending most of the night looking at the little box, Mary did so. After the time stated in the instructions, the result appeared. She was so nervous that it took her some time to understand the meaning of the two lines.

Becoming a mother was one of Mary’s dreams. They had planned a family. They joked about having a child born in that millennium and the next in the new one. They agreed on almost everything except where they would raise them. London was off the table.

Now that dream was real, and Vincent wasn't there. And for the first time, she didn't want him there either.

This was no longer just about her and her broken heart. On the one hand, she was terrified. It was impossible not to think about her mother's case. More than raising a baby alone, Mary was afraid that something would happen and prevent her from taking care of him or her. Unfortunately, the child would not be as lucky as she was. There were no loving grandparents to watch over her. On the other hand, finding out that a child was on the way was an unexpected comfort to her. No matter what twists and turns life had on its sleeve for her, Mary wouldn't be alone anymore.

The blood tests confirmed her calculations. The baby would be born around November.

“When will you tell the father the good news?” Pavarti asked her some days later.

“I will not tell him.”

“You should, and, deep down, you know you should. Who knows, maybe this is an opportunity for the two of you to find a way...”

“If our love was not important enough for him to care and come to me and give a decent explanation for what happened, then I don't consider him important enough to be part of the baby's life.”

“You are the one who didn't want to give him that opportunity!” Pavarti tried to reason with Mary.

Mary knew she was contradicting herself, but the young woman was irreducible. Her wounded heart and pride only fuelled her stubbornness. “The wedding will be on May 2nd, do you think there is any point in doing or saying anything, Pavarti?”

Mary told Mrs. Lemay about her new situation. Although Mary's absence caused her inconvenience and money loss, she was the first to advise the singer to take a break to take care of the baby and herself.

The music producers were not very happy with the news. Even though without stating it clearly, they implied that if the baby was her priority at the moment, she would lose the 'privileged place she had on their artists’ list'.

Mary imagined that would happen. A woman with a baby was the eighth plague of Egypt. Now that she was so close, she was going back to square one.

Baby Briar came into the world on Easter Sunday, keeping her busy while Pavarti recovered from the tough labour. Around that time, the symptoms of the first few weeks gave her a truce, and Mary began to feel better.

The most difficult thing was the ban on coffee. When she felt like drinking coffee, Mary opened the ground coffee pot and smelled it until it satisfied her craving.

Days later, when trying to put on her jeans, Mary became aware of her belly for the first time. It wasn't very prominent yet, but it was already noticeable that things were changing.

By the end of the month, Mary went to London for a few days. With the wedding so close, it would be very unlikely that Vincent would be there.

She had her first ultrasound. Hearing her baby's heartbeat for the first time made her worries disappear for a few minutes. She would never forget that beat.

The midwife noticed that Mary was looking worriedly at the white spots that were appearing on the screen. “Don't worry, my dear, the baby is fine. With a little luck, within a few days, we'll be able to find out the baby's gender. Let me guess: You want a boy, and the father wants a girl.” She smiled.

Mary pretended she didn't hear the question. The midwife took her hand and placed it on her belly. “You two are already a wonderful family.”

Her savings wouldn't last forever, so Mary took the opportunity to give some concerts that Mrs. Lemay had arranged for her.

Returning to her flat after a concert, Mary found a man in a suit at her door. He was tall, had grey hair and a beard, and had a stern face. She recognised the same shade of blue as Vincent's eyes, but instead of his sweetness, Mary only saw coldness.

She instinctively covered her belly with her handbag and took a few steps back. Two men grabbed her.

“Good evening, Mary Howard. I've been looking for you everywhere. I would like to say it's a pleasure to finally meet you, but I hope this is the first and last time we meet.”

“What do you want from me?” Mary tried to free herself from their arms.

“Put her inside.” The Earl commanded.

While one grabbed Mary tightly, the other found the key and opened the door. They dragged her inside and locked the door. She tried to shout, but a hand covered her mouth.

“I thought that if I saw you with my own eyes, I would understand my son's fascination, but you are not even that pretty.” He mocked, as his eyes roamed her body. Mary noticed that he saw the bump. She felt a shiver run down her spine. “Are you with a child?” He asked. Mary didn't answer him. She could see his fury rising. “It cannot be my son’s!” Mary remained in silence. The Earl slapped her face with such force that if it weren't for the two men holding her, she would have fallen to the ground. “You damned whore, how dare you get pregnant? Wasn't it enough to be a bastard yourself? I can guess what your plan was, but this ends here!”

For few seconds, Mary could barely hear the insults he spewed from his mouth. Her mouth was still numb from the slap. She felt the taste of blood on her tongue. “My baby will never be a bastard. I will be a mother, a father, and everything my child needs!” She cried.

“I don't care what you or that creature you are carrying will be. You will disappear from my son’s life forever!”

“Breaking news, Rupert Foredale: I'm the one who wants my baby to have nothing to do with your family. Unfortunately, I couldn't prevent this child from having your blood. No baby deserves to have a father who is a coward, a cheater, and liar, and much less such a despicable being like you as a grandfather.”

The Earl was going to slap her again. Luckily, or out of charity, the bodyguards moved her out of the way of his hand.

“I never trusted people like you. With some luck, the baby isn't even Vincent's. I warned my son several times that he could have fun, but not to be foolish. I should be used to his weaknesses by now. When I was young, I also had a lover who was an artist, a sculptress. She was very skilled with her hands...for everything.” A wicked smile appeared on his lips for a moment. “She was my lover and, I later learned, the lover of every young man in London with any money in his pocket.” After saying it, Rupert took some papers from inside his coat. “Listen very carefully to what I will say to you, whore: you will sign the papers and disappear from my son's life forever. As I am a good Christian, in return, you will get 10,000 pounds. If you dare to open that mouth of yours about my son or what happened between you, you will rot in jail!”

Mary spat at the contract. “My dignity is not for sale. And, unlike you, I would never sell a child to pay for my mistakes.”

She was pushing him to the limit. The Earl was blind with rage. He wasn't used to being defied like that. Rupert tore up the agreement. He took a pistol from his pocket and placed it against Mary's forehead.

“This was your last chance. If you or your bastard ever try to get close to us, I won't be so benevolent. I will make you botg disappear from the face of the earth even if I have to do it with my own hands.”

In a matter of seconds, the lights went out, and they dropped Mary on the floor. As quickly as they had appeared, they disappeared into the night.

Mary couldn't believe what just happened. From what Vincent told her, Mary knew that Earl was not a model of kindness, not even towards his own blood. She didn't expect him to rejoice over the baby; However, not even her greatest fears could imagine such brutality.

After the shock of the first few minutes, the adrenaline subsided. She was feeling a very intense pain, but she couldn't pinpoint where it was. Her baby. The panic set in. If something had happened to the baby, she would kill the Earl with her own hands.

Supporting herself against the wall, Mary managed to get up and call Mrs. Lemay. She didn't care about her bruises. Mary just wanted to hear her baby's heartbeat.

Mrs. Lemay called for a favour and rushed Mary to a private clinic. She refused to be examined without knowing if the baby was okay first. The doctor assured Mary that the baby was fine, but she only calmed down when he showed her the baby on the monitor.

He was silent for a few minutes, looking at the small screen. Mary was about to panic again. “What’s wrong, doctor?”

“Don’t worry, Miss. It's nothing bad. Do you know your baby’s gender?” Mary waved no. “I wasn't going to mention it because I am not absolutely sure. I think you are having a girl.”

Upon learning that the baby was fine, Mary went into autopilot mode. Besides the bruises, the doctor found out she had a broken rib. After taking care of her, Mrs. Lemay took the singer to her home. Exhausted, Mary slept for hours. When she awoke, Mrs. Lemay was waiting for her with a light meal.

“What happened was a crime, Mary. You should go to the police.”

“I have no proofs besides my bruises. Who do you think they would believe? An Earl or a pub singer?

“He is dangerous, Mary, and you confronted him!” Mrs. Lemay insisted. “If he was capable of doing this now, there's no guarantee that he won't do it again... or do something worse.”

“He's afraid I will look for his son and ruin his marriage with the widow. I believe that as soon as they get married and the Earl sees I didn’t lift a finger, he will forget about me and my daughter.”

“So, what are you going to do now? London is not safe.”

“I'm going back to Grovershire and staying there for a while. The Earl doesn't know about my grandparents' house, or he would have gone there. It is far enough from London and from them. I need calm and security for my daughter. Then I will see what my next step will be.”

“Have you thought about names for the baby?” Mrs. Lemay asked to change to a happier subject.

“Beatrice.” Mary smiled, caressing her bump. “Vincent would have liked it too.” She couldn't stop herself from thinking about it.

“Why don't you ask him in person?”

“Even if I wanted...which I don’t want...I can’t take that risk now. Even if we survive Rupert Foredale's wrath, you know the fate of the bastard children. My child will not be exiled to a boarding school.”

Mary did as she said. With the help of Mrs. Lemay and other friends from work, all of Mary's (few) belongings were loaded into a van the following night. As Vincent's forgotten objects appeared, Mrs. Lemay discreetly saved them from the trash. She was thinking that perhaps the child would later look for a connection with the father.

Back in Grovershire, Mary kept as low a profile as possible. Trying to camouflage, she began to introduce herself as ‘Helen’. Those who knew her found it strange. Mary justified her choice, saying she was known in London by that name. She had chosen it as a stage name in honour of her grandmother.

People thought it was eccentric, but they eventually got used to it.

Her belly was becoming less and less discreet. Comments on her obvious situation were inevitable, as well as comparisons with her mother's case. The most charitable hearts felt sorry for her situation. Losing her fiancé in a tragic accident and now having a child to take care of... It was a very hard blow from fate.

The poisonous ones were not so compassionate. Their tongues distilled all kinds of gossip about her: that she was a luxury escort in London (the nastiest said directly prostitute), others that she was the rejected lover of a married man, that the child's father was in prison... Mary knew her truth, yet some days weren't easy with that background buzz. Fortunately, she had the Daly’s on her side.

She didn't like perpetuating a lie, but it was the best truth she could tell. It would be better for both the child and her. Like her, Beatrice would not suffer for someone she had never met. Following her grandparents' example, Mary would make sure her daughter received so much love that she wouldn't miss a thing. It would protect her from Rupert and more heartbreak.

The following ultrasounds confirmed that it was a girl and that she was growing strong and healthy.

Meanwhile, Parvati returned to her work as a seamstress. Mary took care of Briar and in return, Pavarti was sewing her a layette fit for a princess.

During the day, between helping out at the Dalys' house and preparing her own for the baby's arrival, neither Mary's head nor her heart had time to worry about the past or the future. However, many of the nights were full of nightmares about Rupert; others were sleepless, planning all possible future scenarios.

On Halloween evening, Mary felt the first contractions. While Pavarti was finishing the hem of a dress, she was playing on the floor with Briar and felt an intense pain that paralysed her. Recognising the signs, Pavarti helped her get up and set her down on the sofa.

That night was just a warning, but on Tuesday early morning, the contractions came back in force. Mary was terrified of what was happening. What the doctor and the midwife had explained, the books she had read, Pavarti's advice...all of her preparation and plans were gone.

George and Pavarti drove her to the hospital.

As the hours passed, the pain increased, becoming intense and almost constant. Despite telling her that she was doing great and that the baby would soon be in her arms, Mary was losing her strength.

During one of the strongest contractions, for the first time in months, she wished Vincent was there beside her. For a few moments, she was filled with a whirlwind of memories with him. She could almost hear his voice smoothing her. Another strong contraction brought her back to reality. There was no use dwelling on the past. Her daughter was all that mattered now.

After hours of pain and fear, at nightfall on November 2, 1994, her daughter was born. Hearing the sweet shrill sound of her daughter's cries was a relief. Having Beatrice in her arms for the first time was a new kind of happiness she never thought possible.

Even though she was ruddy and grumpy like all newborns, in Mary's eyes, Beatrice was the pinnacle of cuteness, with her full cheeks, thick brown hair, and big eyes.

Around midnight, Beatrice fell asleep in her mother's arms. Exhausted, Mary also fell into a deep sleep.

A couple of hours later, she woke up with a start, thinking she heard the baby crying. Everything was quiet in the ward, including her daughter. However, the door was ajar. Mary saw a pair of eyes watching them through the crack. “Who is there?” She asked instinctively, placing herself in front of the crib. The pair of eyes disappeared.

The next morning, after making sure that everything was fine with both of them, the issue of the father inevitably arose. Again, Mary told the best truth she could:  she had met the father at a party, they had spent the night together, and they had never seen each other again. She claimed she didn't know any information about him other than his first name.

While she was trying to breastfeed Beatrice, a social worker with dubious intentions came to talk to her, asking some questions, pointing out the challenges of being a young single mother and the possibility of giving her baby up for adoption.

Mary was about to lose patience with her when the Dalys came in to visit them. The couple promptly shooed the nosy woman away. Pavarti helped Mary dress Beatrice and put a small pink bow on her head. Then, George took the first portrait of Beatrice. 

Briar was very curious about the new baby, whimpering if they moved her away from the crib.

Rocking her daughter by the window, the light illuminated every detail of her features. Mary noticed that Beatrice had a lot of Vincent in her. How she wished she could make Rupert eat his words.

A couple of days later, mother and daughter were back home. “Welcome home, my love.” Mary kissed her daughter's head. “It may not be Buckingham Palace, but we're going to make it our realm.”

As long as she was well fed, Beatrice was (most days) an easy baby. Despite some sleepless nights, the many health scares typical of newborns, and hormone shenanigans, Mary felt like she was in a bubble of happiness. Her daughter's birth had not miraculously healed her heart, but she was the glue that was holding the pieces together.

As the weeks went by, Beatrice was growing healthy and becoming more active and playful.

Mary's savings were dwindling at the same rate.

There weren't many job opportunities there, so Mary had to take a job at a local pub. Since Pavarti worked from home, she took care of the two babies during the day. At the end of the day, Mary helped her friend taking home some simpler pieces of clothing and making small sewing arrangements. She had never felt so grateful for the hours her grandmother forced her to learn how to sew. Despite it, she felt like she could never repay the kindness they showed her.

The young mother felt exhausted every night, but holding her daughter in her arms, playing with her, smelling her sweet scent, seeing how much she was growing day by day gave Mary the strength to carry one each morning.

Beatrice never lacked anything necessary, even if that sometimes meant just soup for Mary’s dinner. There were many things she wanted to give her daughter, but she couldn't afford them, even if it might be lacking, Mary made up for it with love.

-----

The year 1999 began full of hope. Although it wasn't technically the turn of the millennium, there was in the air the excitement of the end of an era, with a world of possibilities knocking on the door.

Now that the girls were a little older, the Dalys were planning to have another child. Mary was considering changing careers. Her idea was to return to the music world by giving private lessons.

Unfortunately, in April, a series of attacks shocked the United Kingdom and destroyed the dreams of the young family. George Daly was passing through Brick Lane on his way to meet his last client for the month when a nail bomb exploded. He did not survive his injuries and passed away a couple of days later.

Parvati was devastated. She cried for the loss of the love of her life and the loss of everything that Briar would not have with her father, even though she was too young to fully understand what had happened.

Mary knew what a broken heart felt like. However, what Pavarti was suffering was beyond her understanding. Despite the troubled separation, the hurt, the anger, she knew that the love of her life was alive and well. There was always a faint light in her heart, even if her mind denied it.

Part of her friend had died with him that day. Mary knew it would not be possible to heal that wound. For months, every day, Mary fought the darkness that threatened to swallow Pavarti. She was determined to take care of the parts of her friend that remained, just as Pavarti had done with her.

-----------------------

All children grow up too quickly in their parent's eyes, and Mary felt that it was in the blink of an eye that Beatrice went from a baby to a primary school girl.

Apart from the struggle to get her up from bed in the mornings, some occasional tantrums, and some shenanigans here and there, Mary felt blessed. Beatrice was very curious, eager to learn, always exploring the small world around her and asking many questions, some trivial, some more philosophical.

Even though she was little more than a child, Mary realised that her daughter had inherited her wit and passion. It gave her some peace of mind. Having a sharp spirit would protect her and help her succeed in whatever path she chose.

Mary wanted to teach her how to play the piano, but her daughter didn't seem to have the muse of music awake inside her, although Beatrice's voice was naturally in tune.

Nonetheless, as she grew up, the Vincent features stood out more and more in her, and not just physically. Like her father, Beatrice loved books, always asking to read stories. When an adult couldn’t read to her, she made up her own stories with what she saw in the illustrations and told them to Briar or to her dolls.

One night, Mary was sitting on her daughter's bed, dog-tired, praying for Beatrice to choose a small book. What was her surprise when her daughter appeared in the bedroom with her copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' in her hands.

“It's too long for a bedtime story.”

“I didn't ask you to read me everything at once. I was thinking about one chapter per night.”

“It's a story for older girls. You're going to find it boring.”

“How older?” Her inquisitive mode had just turned on.

That was a good question. Mary used her own example to answer, “Girls who are fourteen or fifteen.”

“I am five, it’s not that different! Plus, you always choose good stories, so I'm sure it won't be boring. I have seen you read it more than once.”

“You're going to regret asking me for this. It would be much more fun when you read it by yourself.” In vain, Mary tried to change her mind. She started reading the famous first lines.

“IT IS A TRUTH universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Bennet,” said his lady to him one day, “have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?”

Night after night, chapter after chapter, Beatrice paid close attention to each line. Sometimes the sleep overcame the girl: however, there was use in trying to trick her. She always knew which page they were on before falling asleep. The reading took weeks, which ended up making story time easier for Mary.

With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them; and they were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

“The end.” She dramatically closed the book. “So, what do you think?” Mary asked.

“It's a little like fairy tales, but without fairies? Mr Darcy is a little grumpy for Prince Charming. Her aunt fits the evil witch role, though. But I loved it!” As she tucked her in, Beatrice asked, “Do you think there are many Mr Darcys out there?”

“If you look for yours, you will find him.”

“How will I know?”

“You will know it. You will feel it. Your heart will scream it.”

“Papa was yours?”

Mary still had difficulty dealing with questions about Vincent. For Beatrice, she had chosen to keep the narrative of the father who died in a car accident days before their wedding day. Despite her inquisitive nature, Beatrice rarely questioned Mary about it. Probably because the girl saw the pain in her eyes when the subject was mentioned.

She had only asked her once to see a photograph of him. Mary made up the excuse that all his photos had been lost when they moved to Grovershire. She was sad but didn't ask again.

“All love stories are different. Like Darcy and Lizzie, there were some differences between us, but, unlike her, I think I loved your dad from day one.”

Mary had only seen him again in person once. They were visiting Mrs. Lemay in London for a weekend. Walking through Hyde Park, Mrs. Lemay was further ahead with Beatrice by the hand. Mary had stayed behind, enjoying the rare moment of peace that a mother of a toddler can have. There was a street stall selling ice cream, and she decided to go over to buy some. As she got closer, she saw him. She saw them: Vincent, his wife, an older boy, and a boy a little younger than Beatrice, buying ice cream as well.

That sight left her breathless and with a piercing pain in her stomach. It was a difficult feeling to explain. It had been a little more than a couple of years, however, while it seemed like the same Vincent, it was as if their past was just a dream or the delirium of a feverish night.

The youngest son was throwing a tantrum, and Vincent patiently tried to calm him down. He seemed to have become the fantastic father she knew he could be and that she had dreamed of for her and their children.

Mary turned away and walked forward, quickening her pace. There was no reason for her to torture herself with the past, suffer the present, and tempt fate. Such an encounter would only make things worse.

-----------------------

As soon as Beatrice learned to read, Mary got her a library card. If on the one hand this freed her from the daily bedtime story, but on the other, it stirred even more her daughter's eagerness. Mary often had to go to the library to return books that Beatrice stubbornly brought home, despite not being appropriate for her age.

Every night, Mary had to go back to her room to make her turn off the light and go to sleep. On Friday nights, she knew that her daughter, after being caught in the act, would read another chapter under the blankets by flashlight, however, she decided to pretend that she didn't know about it.

-----------------------

February, 2004

Sitting in the doctor's waiting room, Mary tried to focus on the gossip magazine. Her limbs were heavy and sore from trying to control her nerves.

It wouldn't be anything serious, Mary repeated to herself. She had always been a healthy lass. She was just an exhausted mother, like many others. Like Pavarti, who had insisted on accompanying her to the appointment. There was a wedding dress to urgently finish, yet there she was. The years did not expunge the loss, but they brought back the light of her best friend.

Daughters full of energy in Year 5, long hours of work, little sleep, months without a moment for themselves, bills hard to pay alone, the need to start preparing the girls' future... No wonder they were both in shambles.

At Pavarti's insistence, there she was, fearing the worst, hoping for the best.

“Helen Howard!” the nurse called. Mary wanted to get up, but her legs didn't allow her to do so for a few seconds.

After some small talk, the doctor delivered the news in the politest and least dramatic way possible. “The cancer is aggressive, and it’s in an advanced stage. However, you are a woman in the prime. The sick cells have used your strength to multiply, but that same strength can be used in your favour...” He proceeded to explain the options available in her case.

Mary feared the suffering caused by the treatments, she feared the doctor's lack of certainty, she feared death... but, above all, she was terrified by the idea of her little girl being alone in the world.

Leaving the doctor's office, Mary didn't know what to feel or what to think. It was as if she were possessed by a sharp pain, a paralysing numbness, while at the same time she was diving into a bottomless, icy lake.

Then the anger and frustration came. ‘Why her? Hadn't she suffered enough already?’

As the days went by, Mary wasn’t still conformed to the diagnosis, but took control of what was in her hands.

For Beatrice and a future with her, Mary made her mind up to religiously follow the treatments. Even if she couldn’t escape, any chance of spending more time with her daughter would be worth every discomfort.

In the following days, Mary's biggest concern was how to tell her about it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, children are very perceptive. So, it didn't take long for Beatrice to ask her mother directly what was happening.

Mary stopped chopping the vegetables for the soup and took a deep breath. She couldn't break down in front of her daughter. To buy some time, Mary poured two glasses of juice for both of them. After a couple of sips, the first shaky words left his lips.

“As you know, I had some medical exams. I went to the doctor last week to get the results. I am very ill, my love.” She tried to find gracious words in the English language, but emotions rushed things. “I have ovarian cancer. I am starting treatments next week.”

Beatrice was silent for a while. Mary could see in her daughter's expressions that she was processing what she had just heard. “But, after it, you're going to be okay, right?” She looked up at Mary with her big, sweet hazel eyes.

Mary didn't want to lie to her, but she didn't want to be overly optimistic. "I will do my best. The doctors will do their best, and with a little faith everything, will be okay.”

+++++++

Her grandmother got a similar surgery years ago as a preventative measure; therefore, the operation didn't scare her. Mary knew the secret was to get plenty of rest, so as she did, at least, as much as mother can do.

On the other hand, chemotherapy treatments were knocking her down. Pregnancy nausea was a child's play compared to what she was feeling. After the sessions, Mary felt so weak that she could barely get out of bed for days. When she finally started to feel better, it was time to do another one.

If it weren't for Beatrice, Mary was sure she couldn’t bear it.

As soon as her hair began to fall like leaves in autumn, she decided to cut it very short. Mary had always loved and pampered her hair, and her grandmother was to blame. She loved her granddaughter's hair and spent hours doing elaborate hairstyles. Elena Howard used to say, 'Tira più un capello di donna che cento paia di buoi'' (‘one hair of woman pulls more than a hundred pairs of oxen’). Mary only many years later understood the full meaning of these words.

However, more than her hurt vanity, seeing Beatrice cry when she faced her like that for the first time was much more painful.

Since Mary couldn’t afford a decent wig, she chose to wear headscarves. Parvati, using all the scraps of beautiful fabrics, sewed her headscarves in all patterns and colours.

+++++++

Despite all the ups and downs, Mary was enjoying that summer.

One more time in her life, she has a lot to be thankful for Parvati. Her friend was being tireless with her, spending the most critical nights close to her, preparing meals, taking care of Beatrice, driving her to and from the hospital... Mary knew she could never repay her, so she prayed that life would reward her with the same kindness.

Thanks to Pavarti's generosity, Mary was able to dedicate what little energy she had to her little girl, keeping these precious moments in her heart.

Beatrice spoiled her as best she could, with little gifts and affection. She was always ready to help, no matter the task. It filled Mary's heart with pride. Her daughter's love was what kept her standing.

The fear of the future often made her think about Vincent. She was sure that Pavarti would look out for her daughter, however, if the worst happened, at least Beatrice would have someone else to turn to.

Rupert had died a few years earlier, so he was no longer a threat. The years and the paths taken changed both of them, but Mary believed that his heart had not changed.

She was convinced that when he found out about Beatrice, Vincent would not excuse himself from his obligations. She also didn't doubt that, as time went by, they would love each other very much.

So, Mary started making arrangements. Since she didn't want there to be any doubt about her daughter's paternity, she took a sample of Beatrice's hair for them to analyse.

Along with the samples and some photographs, Mary enclosed a letter from her to Vincent in an envelope. It took days, crumpled papers, and many tears to write that letter. Later, she would just need to instruct Pavarti on how to get that to Vincent.

At the end of September, hope fell away with the leaves. Despite the treatments, the new exams showed that it had spread to other parts of the body. The doctor was almost as dejected as she was.

“Just tell me how long I have.” Mary asked through tears.

“I can't give guarantees about anyone's life, Miss Howard. Sometimes there are real miracles in the human body.” The doctor tried to comfort her.

“I prefer the truth, doctor. Please.”

“A couple of months, no more than Christmas.”

“Will it be painful?”

“There are several ways to make that period smoother, if that's your wish.”

“Having to go is bad enough, don’t you think?”

Back home, Mary didn't have the courage to face her daughter. Parvati took Beatrice home for an impromptu sleepover party.

When the girls fell asleep, Pavarti sneaked over to the Howards' house. It would be a very difficult night for Mary.

After many cups of tea and many more tears, Mary resolved, “This will take me to my grave, but I won't let it take away the shreds of happiness. My daughter and I deserve better than spending our final weeks in misery.”

From that moment on, Mary focused on enjoying every minute with her girl, the epitome of her happiness.

“When are you going to tell her?” Pavarti asked.

“I do not know how, but not for now. When I feel it's closer. I don't want her to cry before the time.”

*November 2004*

Giggles were filling the air. Two little girls were playing tag, running around carefree.

Mary was sitting in her small garden, feeling severe pains, in spite of the medications. She held a mug of strong coffee in her hands, one of the few things that gave her energy.

The autumn sun in her bones was her only comfort. That and seeing her daughter happy.

Taking small, warm sips, Mary reflected on the past thirty years. So much had happened! In her short life there were adventures that would fill a lifetime. Losses along the way, setbacks, broken dreams...but also good friends, many happy days...and, best of all, Beatrice. Mary would go all the way again for the opportunity to share her life with Beatrice.

She was already missing what wasn't going to live with her. Beatrice looks at her and smiles. She is missing two teeth that fell out the other day. Mary knows she won't see her new teeth, yet she smiles back.

‘How do we prepare a child for our death, Pavarti?' Mary asked her friend, who was sitting next to her. 

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#desire and decorum #desire & decorum #unspoken desires #oc: beatrice foredale #choices stories you play #desire and decorum fanfic

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