#and i feel for them. i feel their pain and the emptiness of not knowing what's next or what you should do

[tsuutarr]

(Yandere Otome Isekai Harem [commoner MLs] x Reader)

"Thrust into an unfamiliar world, you have to navigate your role as the Heir to the Arrington Estate. Luckily for you, you have allies that are eager to help you. Maybe a little too eager, in fact."

The Arrington Estate [Chapter 1]

When you wake up, the first thing you want to do is throw up. You feel so deathly ill that you’re on the cusp of feeling like you’re not alive at all. But you’re in so much pain that you know you have to be alive – there’s no other way your nerves would be filled with what feels like molten lava.

“Breathe.” A voice, gentle and low, soothes from beside you. A warm hand settles itself on your back and you’re not even sure how you managed to register it, but you do. “Drink.”

You’re not fully conscious of how the liquid pours down your throat, but you soon find your eyes fluttering shut. Your nerves settle down as you’re lulled into a peaceful rest.

Time is foreign to you when you wake up. Your body still feels heavy, but it doesn’t hurt like it did prior. Processing things is difficult, your mind being bogged down with thoughts that have no end. All you can do is stare at the ceiling made of ornate golden patterns. Gorgeous, but…

It isn’t familiar to you.

Panic should be shooting through your spine, but there’s a feeling of… emptiness that seems to sink into your heart, making the situation seem dull rather than frightening.

“Are you awake?”

You didn’t even realize that there is someone beside you – beside the bed you’re in. Slowly, you turn your head to see a man sitting poised and proper on a wooden chair. His long chestnut colored hair is tied in a neat ponytail, a pleasant smile on his face. But what really draws your attention are his eyes – golden, almost.

“It appears that your complexion has returned. That is a relief,” he says, but you can’t really discern the emotion on his face.

“Who are you?” The words come out of your mouth before you’ve even processed them inside your brain. 

There’s something eerie about the way his expression shifts – it doesn’t shift too noticeably, but there’s a hint of pensiveness that makes you nervous.

“My, I suppose your illness has rendered your memory quite poor. That is unfortunate,” he murmurs, but you’re not entirely sure if he means it or not. It’s a weird contrast – he speaks so kindly, so gently, that he seems so harmless. But he is a stranger to you. You don’t know him – if you can trust him. 

Perhaps he notices the wariness on your face, but he relaxes his body somewhat, offering you a friendlier smile as he introduces himself, “My name is Geoffry Cullen. I am your butler.”

“B… Butler? Mine?” you ask, your brain fog slowly receding. Everything about this situation is so foreign to you, from the ornate ceiling to the luxurious bed you’re on to the man who claims he serves you.

You’re pretty sure this isn’t the life you remember.

“Yes, yours.”

“Who am I, then?” you ask, trying to piece together something – anything that can give you a hint.

“Why, you’re the heir to the Arrington Estate,” he states as if it is the most obvious fact in the world. And perhaps it is the most obvious fact to everyone but you.

You can’t help but doubt the validity of this “fact” that’s been told to you because, while you don’t remember much, you do remember something:

You are, in fact, not the heir to the Arrington Estate.

Perhaps your expression gives away your entire dilemma, because Geoffrey offers you a sympathetic smile. It’s the kindest he’s looked so far.

“You must be hungry. Let me bring you your meal.” He stands up gracefully, adjusting his suit jacket as he does so. “In the meantime, please get some more rest.”

He bows, before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You’re still utterly lost and confused, the uncertainty of your own situation making you nervous.

Despite your legs still feeling wobbly, you force yourself to rise. Stumbling, you make your way to the mirror. It’s probably the fanciest mirror you’ve ever seen – it almost looks like a jewelry box. It’s so fancy that you’re undoubtedly certain that you aren’t home. There’s no way you could ever afford a mirror of this quality.

What’s odd, though, is that you actually see yourself in the reflection. A part of you wondered if you’d possess another body or something of that sort, but… you look identical to how you remember looking. But you shouldn’t look like yourself, right? After all, the butler – Geoffrey – had claimed that you are the heir to the Arrington Estate, which you aren’t.

Now that you’ve been allowed to wake up fully without the pain from prior, things are slowly coming back to you. You recall your home, your friends, your family; and it’s all just so normal compared to the grand room you’ve found yourself in. This room feels too fantastical to be real.

In fact, it reminds you of the stories you had read about reincarnation and transmigration back in your world. Everything, from your confusion to the room to the butler, seems like the hallmarks of one of the transmigration or reincarnation stories you had read back then. Only… you’re not certain what story you’re in. Geoffrey as a character is unfamiliar to you. The Arrington Estate as a place is unfamiliar to you.

Furthermore…

Why do you still look like yourself? 

You can’t wrap your head around it. Sure, some people retained their appearance when they got teleported into another world, but they usually had a role that did not already exist. These people are the “hero” that got called to help save the world, so it makes sense that they retained their appearance.

But it doesn’t make sense for you. You’re considered the Heir to the Arrington Estate, meaning that you must’ve taken over the role of someone who already exists. And yet you still look like yourself.

You groan, feeling tired. You feel lost and confused. There are too many things you don’t understand – too many variables. 

It’s all too much for you.

Slowly, you trudge back to your bed, settling yourself under the plush covers. You’re pretty sure that the blanket itself is enough to pay your rent for a year. You don’t even want to think about how much the pillows, the bed, the entire room may cost. You’re certain that it’s more money than you would’ve been able to see in ten lifetimes, at least.

But now you’re able to see all this money – it’s yours, technically.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense. It makes your heart beat loudly inside your brain, making your ears ring as you stare up at the ornate ceiling. Somehow, looking at the ceiling makes the buzz in your brain quiet. Your eyes follow the curves and edges highlighted in gold. Your eyes follow the ceiling’s patterns again and again and again until you lull your tired body into a dreamless slumber.

Geoffrey returns to your room a bit later, only to see you slumbering peacefully. He places your meal down on your bedside table, before taking a seat on the wooden chair by your bedside. Quietly, he watches as your chest rises and falls softly, breathing even in your sleep. 

Yes, you must’ve been quite tired, that much is certain. It’s not easy to come back from death, after all. And you should be dead, yet somehow aren’t.

“Curious, isn’t it?” he murmurs, softly, his gaze lingering on your face for any clues.

Yes, it’s quite curious. You should be dead. He was certain that you wouldn’t be able to recover.

Oh, yes, he was quite certain. 

After all, he’s the one that killed you.

And yet, here you are.

[kaira-diaries]

Affection

Warnings: (Fluff-shared bath) (Mentions of wound)

Pairing: (reader! x In-ho)

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: In-ho finally opens up to you about his feelings.

A/N: The bathtub idea came to me and I just had to jump on it OPE enjoy WOO.

Masterlist <-

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Affection was a rare currency when it came to In-ho, doled out sparingly and always on his terms.

It wasn't something you demanded or even dared to request. You simply accepted the scraps he chose to offer, hoarding those fleeting moments of tenderness as though they were precious jewels. Of course, you longed for more—achingly so—but you understood: In-ho was a man of intricate layers, a fortress of complexities that guarded his emotions tightly.

Tonight was different—you felt it the moment he walked through the door. Something had happened. His usually guarded eyes were uncharacteristically glassy, emotions swimming in their depths that he hadn't yet spoken aloud. He crossed the space between you in an instant, his arms wrapping tightly around you as though afraid you might slip away. His breath was warm against your ear as he murmured soft promises, each word laced with a quiet desperation that sent a shiver down your spine.

Now, the two of you were submerged in the marble bathtub, the water lapping gently against your skin as steam rose into the air, curling like whispers of smoke. He sat behind you, his broad chest a solid wall of warmth pressed against your back. The firm, reassuring weight of his arms circled your waist, holding you so close it was as though he feared even the water might come between you.

His lips brushed against your shoulder in slow, deliberate kisses, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The tenderness in his touch was almost reverent, his fingers splayed across your stomach as though grounding himself in your presence. The rhythmic sound of water dripping from the edge of the tub was the only interruption to the heavy silence, one that felt less like emptiness and more like the quiet aftermath of a storm.

You drew in a steadying breath, tilting your head slightly until your nose brushed against his. The intimate gesture made his lashes lower, his eyes mere shadows in the dim light. "What happened?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the gentle slosh of the water.

His response came not in words at first, but in the press of his lips against yours—brief, soft, and almost evasive. "I don't know what you're talking about," he murmured, his voice low and even, though his intense gaze betrayed him. Those dark eyes of his, so full of depth and unspoken emotion, always had a way of undoing you. You felt your resolve waver as warmth spread low in your belly, a heat that wasn't from the water. Your eyes darted away, breaking the spell, and you exhaled slowly, your chest rising and falling as you reached for the soap sitting just beyond your shoulder. "Your turn," you murmured, your tone lighter as you wrestled his arms away from your waist. His grip was firm, reluctant to release you, but you managed to turn in his lap until you were facing him, your knees brushing against his in the shallow water.

Lathering the soap in your palms, you pressed them to his chest, the heat of his skin seeping into your fingers. The scent of the soap, fresh and clean with a hint of sandalwood, mingled with the faint trace of him that always lingered. Your hands glided over the firm lines of his chest, following the curve of his collarbone and the definition of his muscles. When your fingers brushed the raised, jagged line of a scar—a gunshot wound from a year ago—you froze for a moment, your lips pressing into a thin line. Your thumb traced the rough edges instinctively, the memory of that night flashing vividly in your mind. The panic, the blood, the fear that had gripped you like a vice—it was all as clear as if it had happened yesterday.

You grunted softly, a sound that was half frustration, half pain. His eyes flicked to yours, searching, but you shook your head and continued to rub the soap into his skin. If he noticed the way your hands trembled for a split second, he didn't say anything. Instead, he let you work, his gaze steady on you, grounding you in the present even as your mind lingered in the past.

A steady hand came to rest on your cheek, the warmth of his touch anchoring you in the moment. Your movements stilled as your eyes lifted to meet his, searching his face for clues to the turmoil you sensed brewing beneath the surface. His expression was a strange mix of relief and something darker—something you couldn't quite place.

"The players rebelled," he said at last, his voice low and weighted.

Your heart lurched in your chest, skipping a beat as the words sank in. "What?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, caught somewhere between disbelief and dread.

Before you could say more, he pulled you forward, enveloping you in his arms as though shielding you from an invisible threat. Your cheek pressed against the firm plane of his chest, his heartbeat steady but faster than usual, betraying the tension he carried. One of his hands slid up to tangle gently in your hair, his fingers threading through the strands as though grounding himself in your presence.

"I took care of it," he murmured, his lips brushing against the crown of your head as he spoke. "But… they were just a corridor away from our quarters. From you."

Your stomach twisted at the thought, a chill running down your spine despite the heat of the bathwater. The idea of danger coming so close, of him having to stand between you and whatever chaos had erupted, made your breath snag.

His grip on you tightened, "I know I've never said it outright, and maybe I've been too stubborn to show it—but you mean more to me than anything else. More than I ever thought someone could."

His words lingered in the air, heavy with sincerity, and your chest tightened at the rawness of his admission. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound the gentle ripple of water around you.

Slowly, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against the sharp planes of his cheekbones. His eyes, usually so guarded, were open now, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

"You don't have to say anything else," you murmured softly, your voice trembling slightly. "I already know. I've always known."

A flicker of relief crossed his face, but you weren't done. You leaned in closer, your lips hovering just a breath away from his as you whispered, "And for what it's worth…I feel the same. I'd follow you anywhere, through anything. You've always been it for me."

His lips parted as if to respond, but you didn't let him. Closing the small distance, you kissed him, slow and deep, your fingers sliding into his hair as his arms tightened around you. It wasn't just a kiss—it was a promise, a shared understanding that needed no more words.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, his breath mingling with yours, he let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. "You make everything worth it," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

"And you," you replied with a tender smile, brushing your thumb along his cheek, "are my home."

[batboysanonymous]

A Taste of Silence (Pt. II)

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhys's drunken words cut deeper than any blade, leaving Y/n questioning everything she thought she knew about their bond. As heartbreak and betrayal collide, she faces a choice that could shatter the fragile threads holding their world together.

Pt. I

Word Count: 1.5k

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Rhysand was drowning.

He had endured centuries of torment in Amarantha’s Court, faced death and destruction in ways that would have broken lesser males—but this? This was agony unlike anything he had ever known.

Because this wasn’t just losing her. This was being the cause of her pain.

The bond was still there, a heavy, throbbing weight tethered to his soul. It twisted and pulled at him, refusing to let him forget the raw betrayal in her eyes when she left. He couldn’t block it out. Couldn’t shut down the waves of anger and hurt radiating from her, nor the faint echo of her presence that haunted his every step.

He didn’t deserve to forget.

He followed her from a distance, staying just out of sight, knowing he had no right to approach her. She had retreated to a small, snow-laden village on the outskirts of his territory, a place so quiet and unassuming it seemed designed to swallow grief whole. Rhys respected her boundaries—at least, as much as he could while still ensuring she was safe.

The villagers had no idea their little haven was now fiercely guarded by shadows. Every night, he patrolled the perimeter, silent as death, ensuring no threat could come close. When a pack of feral beasts wandered too near, Rhys killed them before they could even scent the village. He cleaned up the blood and left no trace, unwilling to let her see the lengths he was going to for her protection.

She might hate him, but she was still his mate. And he would protect her, even if it tore him apart.

But even the small things he could do weren’t enough. Not when every second without her was a reminder of the chasm he’d created between them. The cold, empty nights stretched endlessly, the silence gnawing at his mind until he thought he might go mad.

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The third week after her departure, he broke.

He had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t intrude, and wouldn't push her until she was ready. But the bond burned unbearably that day, tugging at him with a force that felt like claws raking through his chest. He flew to her cabin before he could stop himself, landing with a muffled thud on the snow-packed ground.

She was outside, stacking firewood with her back to him. She froze when his boots crunched against the snow.

“Don’t,” she said without turning, her voice cold enough to make him falter.

“Please,” Rhys choked out, his voice hoarse.

She didn’t respond, and he didn’t think—he just dropped to his knees. The snow soaked through his leathers, numbing his skin, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

“Please,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “Please, just listen to me. I—” His throat closed up, the words catching on the lump that had lodged itself there since the moment she left. He dragged a trembling hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his desperation. “I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I—Cauldron, I can’t live like this. I can’t live without you.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t move.

“You are everything to me,” he said, his voice raw. “Everything. And I hate myself for what I did, for the way I made you feel. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it right, if you’ll let me. But if you can’t…” He swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. “If you can’t, I’ll still do it. I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy, even if it’s from afar. I don’t care what it costs me, as long as you’re okay.”

“How can I trust that the next time you’re drunk or angry, you won’t say something that cuts me to the bone?”

Her words hit like a dagger, sharp and precise. He bowed his head, his voice trembling as he replied, “I don’t deserve your trust, not after what I said. But I swear to you, I will never drink if it means risking your pain. I’ll stop entirely if you ask me to. Nothing—nothing—is worth losing you again.”

Her arms crossed, her shields firmly in place, though he caught the faintest waver in her expression. “And what happens the next time we fight, Rhys? What if you get angry? Will you throw my weaknesses in my face again?”

His head snapped up, anguish written across his features. “Never. I would never—” His voice broke. “You are not my weakness. You are my strength. And if I ever forget that, I want you to walk away and never look back. But I swear to you, Feyre, I will spend every day of my life proving to you that I’ve learned from this. That I will never, ever make you feel like that again.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. He could feel her battling herself, the bond between them a swirling tempest of doubt and yearning.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispered, his knees sinking deeper into the snow. “I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your trust if I have to. Just tell me how to begin.”

The silence stretched taut between them, and Rhys didn’t dare move. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but edged with steel. “Prove it.”

Her shields weren’t just up—they were fortified. But he didn’t need to feel the bond to see the war raging within her.

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The days that followed were a slow, painful process. Rhys didn’t push. He stayed near enough to be there if she needed him but far enough to give her space. He continued his quiet watch over the village, eliminating threats before she ever knew they existed. He left her gifts—small things he hoped might bring her comfort. A new brush when he saw her old one had broken. A scarf enchanted to keep her warm even in the bitterest winds. And a note with every gift: I’m still here. I always will be.

She started letting him stay for longer each time he visited. They didn’t talk much at first—just sat in heavy, charged silence. But gradually, the walls began to crack. She started asking him questions, small and tentative, and he answered with an honesty that left him vulnerable and bare.

The night she finally forgave him, it was snowing.

They were sitting by the fire, the soft glow casting flickering shadows across the room. Rhys’s voice was low and steady as he recounted the years he’d spent under the mountain. The rawness of the memories was evident in the way his hands clenched and unclenched, but he forced himself to speak, each word a step toward atonement.

Y/N sat across from him, silent, her gaze fixed on the flames. Her fingers twisted the hem of her sweater, the movement restless and uncertain.

“You didn’t just hurt me,” she said at last, her voice trembling. “You betrayed me, Rhys. You made me feel small, like I didn’t matter.”

The words tore through him, but he didn’t flinch. He nodded, his throat tightening. “I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel that way again.”

She looked at him then, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “How can I trust you not to run your mouth again? To not let some drink or situation make you careless with me?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, shame crashing over him. “You can’t—not yet. But I’ll prove to you that you can. I’ll prove it every single day, Y/N.” His voice cracked, his chest heaving as he lowered himself to his knees before her.

“Please,” he begged, his hands trembling as he clasped hers. “Please, give me a chance to earn back your trust. I’ll never take another sip of wine if that’s what it takes. I’ll never let myself forget the weight of what I have to lose. You are everything to me.”

Her lip trembled as she stared at him, the rawness in his expression and the desperation in his voice cutting through her defenses. “I’m terrified, Rhys. Of trusting you again. Of getting hurt again.”

His thumbs brushed over her knuckles as he held her hands tightly, his head bowing. “I know. And if I ever break your trust again, I’ll deserve every ounce of that fear. I’ll deserve to lose you. But I won’t. I swear to you, Y/N, I won’t.”

The bond between them hummed faintly, like a whisper of what it once was, and it pulled at her even as she hesitated. She reached out, cupping his face with trembling fingers.

“You have one chance, Rhys,” she whispered, her voice heavy with both hope and caution. “One.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, pressing her palm to his lips. “I won’t waste it. I swear to you, I’ll never waste it.”

When she finally leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, his arms wrapped around her protectively, as if he could shield her from every hurt in the world—including himself. The bond sang louder, fuller, and in that moment, they began to mend what had been broken, piece by fragile piece.

[zara-renata]

Supernova | ao3 | masterlist

Summary: Caleb's POV of the events of the previous part. Non-canon compliant, as I started this fic before he was released, and it turns out Caleb and mc were in the shelter together after the chronorift catastrophe, whereas I have them meeting at their gran's house for the first time in this fic. I also wrote Caleb and mc only being one year apart, unlike in the game, where they seem to be 3 or 4 years apart. Otherwise, I've tried to incorporate everything we've learned about him so far into this fic. This story contains: obsessive, possessive, jealous behavior. codependency. angst. yearning, mutual pining. some sexual fantasy on Caleb's part. I lean fully into the yandere Caleb that infold gifted us with. i hope it's enjoyable!

He is a star, just on the edge of going supernova. His rage at his lack of control, the voice in his head predicting he’ll become as destructive as a black hole someday, the mass of his emptiness and the twinned want for it to be filled—always on the verge of crushing his soul.

You are his twin, his other, his only, in his binary system, anchoring him with your gravity—your pull, the defiance of physics, as your force on him prevents him both from careening out alone in the dark and from imploding into himself, collapsing into the black hole he knows his truest form to be.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

When it becomes too much. When the feelings inside him feel too big for his skin. You have always been there, a steadying force, a constant companion as he burns through the universe, through life. He is shaped, contained, filled by you, as you are carved, eroded, sculpted by him.

One bright day, Gran brings you home. Introduces you to your new big brother. You look—naked. Exposed. All of your feelings, right on your face. Your fear, hesitation, pain, all clear as the bright sunny day for him to read in your big, bright, sad eyes. He doesn’t know why, but it hurts his heart, to see how scared you are of his reaction to your presence in his home, now yours.

He smiles wider, offers you his hand.

The moment you reach for him, big eyes never leaving his, and he feels your soft skin against his palm, he somehow knows it’s over, and just beginning.

Perhaps it’s his evol. The fact that he can bend, control, subdue gravity, gravity which is so closely linked to time. Because the moment that you touch his hand contracts and expands, stretches—everything narrows to his skin against yours, to this point in time. Perhaps his evol allows his future, past, parallel selves to infuse him with knowledge, because he somehow knows he will never escape you, the pull of you, no matter what the rest of the world says, from this moment onward, suspended in time—your hand in his, a butterfly smothered in sap, hardened into amber. Amber that he carries in his hand, when yours isn’t there to fill it.

Or maybe it’s simpler than that. Something in him, recognizing something in you. Your fear. Your hollow eyes. The anger, underneath the fear. You’re so, so pretty. Like a living doll.

You take his offered hand, despite your fear, the pain in your eyes, and Caleb feels for the first time like he has a purpose. Value. Something he can control, in a life that has spun out of his control more times than he can count. He’s not just a threatening black hole. He can look after you. Keep you safe. Remove that fear from your eyes. He can nurture, instead of only destroy.

He’s a boy, offering a gentle hand to a scared girl, who needs him. And in the offering, and her acceptance, his own need comes into existence, a bright flash in his dark universe.

He shows you around, friendly, earnest for the first time in a long time, chattering about anything he can think of to keep your eyes on him, you listening to him, your attention on him. It feels so, so good.

But he has to go to school. He has to leave you behind, during the day. He spends his days lying, pretending to listen attentively, pretending to be interested in the same things his friends are interested in. He mimics the laughter of his friends, smiles his empty, useful smile, as he thinks of all the ways he can alleviate the pain, the fear in your eyes. As he imagines your hand in his.

He finds you in closets, curled up on yourself, a tightly furled flower. He doesn’t want to pluck you from where you feel safe.

He just wants to change what makes you feel safe. A gardener, repotting a rose. A rose he knows that has thorns as deadly as his own.

He squeezes in next to you, in the dark. Puts his arm around you. Chatters again, telling you stupid stories, making stuff up, anything to help you relax, distract you from what haunts you, melt into his side. You eventually let him lead you from the dark, into the light. You curl up next to him, as he puts together a model airplane. Your eyes watch his hands as he fits the pieces together, as he carefully glues them.

He pauses, holds one hand up. When you just stare at him in confusion, he gently takes your wrist, and pulls your palm to his.

Already, his hands are bigger than yours.

I’m bigger than you. So I’ll always be able to protect you.

He gently sets your palm back into your lap. You snuggle closer to him.

He feels so, so good.

But there’s something wrong with you. Gran sits him down at the kitchen table, looks earnestly at him. She tells him about your heart. 

It’s our job to take care of her. Can you help me?

He knows what she is asking.

He knows about her migraines. How hard she works. He doesn’t know why, or what she’s doing.

He just knows that she’s telling him what he already knew, from that first moment. He needs to look after you.

But she didn’t even have to ask. He has already been doing this, from the moment you took his hand. It is easy for him to nod in response to Gran’s question. Of course.

For the first time in his life, he has something of his very own, giving him purpose. He can nurture, instead of destroy. Is it selfish, if it gives him so much pleasure? Seeing you slowly unfurl, and come to depend on him.

You start seeing your doctor, taking the pills to stabilize your heart. You always come home exhausted, drained, from your appointments. He sits with you, sharing a thick blanket in his room with the big bay window, and reads to you. Books from Gran’s library. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he feels like he’s flying, like he’s finally not alone, for the first time in his life. The more time you spend reading together, the more you begin to speak, giving him your thoughts on what you are reading.

You give him the gift of seeing the world not only through his own eyes, but through yours.

The medication is horrible for you.

He understands what Gran was asking, the first time you choke on the pills. The first time he finds you vomiting, huddled over the toilet.

It feels like a part of himself is in pain, watching you in pain. He hates it.

He hates it, but he loves it.

Soothing you. Comforting you. Watching your face, drawn in a frown of pain, relax under the wet cloth in his hand, as you manage to swallow, under his palm on your throat.

As he cares for you, carries you to bed in his gangly, too long arms, he isn’t a black hle, destroying anything, everything. He’s nurturing. And he also doesn’t have to control his face, hide his feelings, pretend to be normal and interested in normal-people things. He’s just himself, taking care of what’s his.

Slowly, slowly, the medication is adjusted, you’re no longer sick all the time. He’s happy to see you regain strength, color in your face.

He takes you for walks, out in the sunshine, under the open sky, in the fields of wildflowers beyond Gran’s house. You cling to him, complain of vertigo, staring up into endless blue. There were no skies, in the labs where you lived for so long.

His heart aches. He thinks of lifting you into the air, letting you experience flight, the flight he yearns for, the only time in his life he ever feels free. Before you came. But now, having you at his side, feels like flying.

But he doesn’t want to scare you. He pulls you down with him, to the earth, surrounded by so many living things, so different from the lab that kept you caged for so long. He thinks such a lovely rose deserves the soil, the fireflies, all the growing things as companions.

He pulls you down into the wildflowers, and he tells you about his dreams of flying. He wants to share this part of himself with you. He holds your hand in his, index finger pointing, and names the types of airplanes that fly overhead.

Later, you’ll ask him to make you fly, and he will. Your body weightless, in a field of flowers, as you laugh, one of the few times you actually ever smile. A smile only he sees. A laugh, and a smile, that belong to him, only to him. In a world where he’s never had anything to call his own before, he now has your smile, and your laugh.

One night, he comes to check on you, as he often does when you’re sleeping. But you’re not huddled in your bed, long lashes sweeping across your soft cheek. The window is open, curtains whispering in the chill breeze. He finds you on the roof, shivering. He doesn’t know why you didn’t bring a coat. He just knows that you are cold, and he is big, and his body is warm, and already what’s his, is yours. He wraps himself around you, feels you melt against his chest.

He tells you about the stars. Again, he holds your hand in his, index finger pointing, and names the constellations, the bright planets that look like stars.

The night you begin dreaming about flying, high in the sky, amidst the stars, he begins to dream about you. His anchor. His north star. The point around which he revolves.

When you finally start school, he’s so excited. Helps you pick out your backpack, your school supplies at the corner store. But he can tell, from the moment you walk into the crowded hallways, how overwhelmed you are. You revert to that strange frozen stiffness you had, when Gran brought you home. He hates it. He looks around. Finds a quiet classroom. He uses his size, his presence, to wrap you in safety, resting his elbows on either side of you against the classroom wall.

Look at me. Look only at me. 

So what, if what he wants is selfish, and gives him what he wants, if it helps you too? If its primary purpose is to calm you, soothe you, help you at school, in every aspect of your life? 

Caleb is hungry, selfish. He knows this. As long as he can control it, it’s okay. As long as his selfishness aligns with helping you, it’ll be okay, right?

You calm down, as he tells you to look for him, anytime you’re overwhelmed. That he’ll be there. A promise he’ll always keep, forever.

He sees how the other kids respond to you. They see your unsmiling face, your quiet, ever-vigilant stillness, and they immediately recognize you as different. Strange. Their base animal instincts are to distrust anything that’s other. 

Caleb is a star, the rage fueling his core, boiling. He still smiles. Charms. Draws people in with his wholesome apple boy mask. He learned this, long ago—to get what you want, to control what happens to you, means controlling other peoples’ perceptions of you.

He wears a mask, like he wears his school uniform. As easy as breathing, most of the time.

When he sees people bothering you, he flies to you. Smiling. Putting his arm around you, guiding you away. He will protect you from the entire world, including other children—they were simple props before. An unavoidable reality, to charm, neutralize, recruit to his side so ease his path to the future, his path to escaping this school and this youth where he has so little control. But now, he considers them hardly more than animals, as he watches them scent you, and begin to growl.

Are you his sister? Why do you walk home together all the time? What’s wrong with you?

He intervenes. Draws you into his side, pulls you close. No, she’s not my sister.

Despite how much he already loves you, how close he feels to you, he balks at the idea of you being his sister.

He crushes the soda can in his hand, no evol necessary, the first time it occurs to him that if he accepts that you’re his sister, like the adoption papers say, like Gran says, like the kids at school say, then one day he won’t be the most important person in your life. He’ll just be your brother.

He can’t stand it.

He has friends at school with siblings. They complain about their annoying little sisters, their jerk older brothers. They joke and laugh and pester each other, and also defend each other when someone else is doing the bullying.

Caleb could never, ever complain about you. He has never found you annoying. He already knows that he is prepared to crush anyone who would dare look at you strangely, let alone bully you.

He wants to spend all of his time with you. He wants to keep helping you grow. He wants to be the soil in which you flourish.

Even as a boy, he knows that he’s not satisfied with being just your brother. He wants to be everything, if it’s to you.

He knows that he hurts you, every time he denies that you’re his sister.

But you’re more. He can’t explain it yet, or claim it yet. He tells himself: he’ll tell you, when you’re older. When he has more control of his own life, and can do even more than just making sure your life is as easy as possible, as he cooks for you, cleans for you. As he helps you wash, care for your hair, his rose, his doll. 

He hopes you can forgive him, in the end, for carving out this future for the both of you, where he’s not just your brother, and you’re not just his sister. Brothers and sisters part ways. Move into their own houses. Marry other people.

He tells himself that he’ll make up for every grievance you have against him, every time he hurts you when he denies you as his sister, when you’re both older, when he can actually do something about what he knows is his fundamental truth.

You’re not his sister. He’s not your brother. 

You’re just his, and he is yours.

Time passes. Each day, he gets to walk with you to school, holding an umbrella over your head when it’s raining. Handing you his aviator sunglasses when it’s too bright. He gets to see you in the halls, across the meaningless crowds.

Holding your hand through it all. 

One spring day, as you’re walking home from school together, you find a cat, mewling pathetically from the bushes. It has crawled underneath, hiding in the thick foliage in an effort to protect itself.

It’s hurt. Caleb is sympathetic, but he would have kept walking. He has his own injured creature to care for, after all. But you—you’re absolutely distraught. You beg him to pick it up, carry it home wrapped in his jacket.

You never need to beg. But he doesn’t mind when you do.

As he lifts up the scruffy cat, which doesn’t scratch or bite, seemingly resigned to its fate or too scared to resist, it reminds him of you, the first day you came home. Your pain, and your fear. Your rage, banked for fear of retribution.

He carries the cat home, wrapped in his jacket.

You consult Gran on how to care for it. You do so, diligently, getting up at all hours in the night to check on it. Which is the only reason it doesn’t manage to escape.

Finally, Caleb gets fed up with the ridiculous thing trying to slink away while it’s injured. Trying to avoid the care you’re so faithfully offering it. Foolishly rejecting what’s best for it.

He buys a collar with his allowance, and a bell. Slips it around the shivering thing’s fragile neck.

It occurs to him how pretty you’d look, with something similar.

He’d hear you, wherever you were. In the night, crawling onto the roof alone. Vomiting at the toilet, alone.

Walking in the halls at school, surrounded by so many people in the world who do not matter. Who simply present a barrier, when he’s trying to maneuver through their mass of bodies to get to you when he can see you freezing, withdrawing into yourself. When he knows you need him.

He wants to put a pretty collar with a bell on you, and listen to the tinkling, meant for his ears, and his ears alone.

Thanks to the bell, the cat heals. As it frolics away, free at last, Caleb watches it go, a twisting, painful sensation in his belly. He turns, looks at you. You’re not smiling, but your face is shining, your eyes bright. He can see that you’re happy with the work you both did for the cat.

He hates himself, for the feelings inside of him. 

He wants to reach over, put his big hand around your neck. Loosely. Just to feel your heartbeat in your throat under his palm. To reassure himself that you’re still here. That you still need him. That you’re not going anywhere, and that you won’t be leaving him alone, anytime soon.

He’s so, so selfish. He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

Time passes. 

One morning, he finds you thrashing in bed, breathing heavily, an animal panic choking your lungs. He thinks it’s a normal panic attack for you, is prepared to help you breathe, to walk you through it, as he always does, but then he sees the blood in the sheets.

He’s read about this. He paid attention in health class. He needs to know everything about you, your body, how it’s different from his, and how to care for it, if he’s to look after you properly.

Gran isn’t always around. In fact, she’s away more often than not.

In her bedroom, with a migraine. Or working so hard, on something she can’t talk about.

You’ve had your first period. 

He’s heard boys talking, joking, jeering at school. It disgusts him, how they talk about girls, as if girls aren’t people too. He looks at you, and all he sees is a person—pretty as a doll, but full of life. Of fear and dreams and the longer you’re with him, you feel safe enough to demand anything, everything of him. He hates how the guys at school talk about girls. Because you’re a girl, and you have a whole universe inside of you, one that he’s so happy to discover every time you open your mouth. Every time you discover something new that you like, or hate, or annoys you.

How can you, as a girl, and your body, experiencing something outside of your control, be fodder for a joke?

He strides into your bedroom, grabs your wrists. Look at me. Don’t look at the blood.

Your breathing calms, as your big, bright eyes stare into his own.

It feels so, so good, as you relax. As you look to him, for help, for comfort, for soothing all of your fears. He wants, needs you to know how good it feels for him, to be able to do this to you, with you. You’re so, so good.

Good girl.

Your face does something funny, when he says these words. He thinks that the look on your face right now mirrors the feeling in his chest, when you listen to him, rely on him, let him open the pickle jar, let him smooth the way of any obstacles you have. When you smile for him, and no one else. When you allow him to nurture, instead of just destroy.

He helps you with the laundry. Finds himself regretting dumping the stain remover on your blood, stuffing the sheets in the washer. Your blood is a part of you, as much as your beautiful hair, your soft skin, the sharp tongue in your mouth.

Caleb thinks there might be something wrong with him, with how much he wants to keep your sheets, just as they are, tucked away somewhere in his closet. 

He resists the urge, just barely.

Later, after he’s bought you pads with his allowance. After you walk around the house with a strange gait, like you can’t stand to bring your legs together, he teases you. You throw the apple at him, eyes bright—defiant, annoyed. He enjoys watching you take the bite, because he told you to. He loves it, every time he tells you to do something, and you do it, no questions asked. 

Proof of how much you trust him. How much you need him.

Just like he needs you.

Later, at school, he catalogues the boys who make jokes about girls, and periods. He watches, listens. Lies through his teeth, chummy and just a normal teenage boy himself, of course. He notes the worst offenders.

It’s unfortunate, how they trip. Down the stairs. On nothing. Rumors start going around the school that there’s a ghost haunting a particular flight of stairs, right outside of Caleb’s homeroom.

He loves you so much, it hurts. He enjoys passing the pain along, to others who also deserve it.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

Years pass.

You become accustomed to the confined chaos of school, interacting with so many people. You seem calmer, in the busy hallways. You snort, joke, even if you don’t smile at school, when he has to leave you for awhile, so he can continue his wholesome apple boy lie. Student council president, captain of the basketball team, MVP for the football team, medal winner in track and field. He lifts weights after school, is diligent about his diet, his protein intake, each week new gains bulking out his already tall body. He must do everything possible to lay the foundations for his future success, so he can provide for you. Be a constant pillar of strength for you. Continue giving you everything you need.

You come to him, when you’re upset. When everyone, everything begins to overwhelm you. He holds you. He jokes with you. He tells you stupid stories. He cooks for you. He feels satisfaction, deep in his blood. 

And then, somehow, maybe while he wasn’t looking—although he’s always looking, so when would that even have been? He hasn’t stopped looking at you, from the first moment you came home.

But from one day to the next, you are a girl—pretty, cute, still, solemn.

And then—you are still all those things, but you are also beautiful.

Beautiful in a way that turns his brain into mush. A pretty living doll, but one that he wants. Not just to care for her hair, feed her, rock her to sleep. He wants all that, and more. 

His heart races when you come close, when he can smell the scent of your skin, your shampoo, your sweat, your breath. You’re so beautiful, it hurts.

For the first time, he wants more than to hold you in his arms.

He wants to put his mouth on you.

He wants to put his hands all over you, not to check to see where it hurts, but to check where you feel good. Where you like to be touched the most.

The size of his want terrifies him.

He tries to control it. To laugh, and joke, to pat your head, mess up your hair. He wears a new mask, over his old one.

Wholesome apple boy, who has never once imagined putting his tongue in his sister’s mouth.

And then, one night, you have your first nightmare. About what, you never say. You tell him you don’t remember. He doesn’t know if he believes you. It drives him insane, not knowing. 

He hears you, your hoarse cry, in his sleep. He jolts up in bed, hears it again. Gran will sleep through it, as she always slept through the side effects of the pills, slept through when you had the flu.

It’s up to him, to go to you.

He stands in the doorway of your room, and feels so big. A looming monster, his shadow stretching across your bedroom floor, blanketing your small body. You’ve always been small, but this time, the first time you reach for him in the night, body and nightclothes wet with sweat, you feel so fragile to him, in his big arms. He could crush you. 

It terrifies him.

It turns him on.

He’s a liar, and he’s so, so selfish.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

He clutches you to him, makes another selfish decision. Instead of stripping your bed, helping you put on new sheets, tucking you back in, he takes you to his own bed. Pulls you close against his body, under the covers. Blanketing you with his own smell, his own arms. His.

You fall asleep like that. He stays awake, his body aching painfully with want. If you notice how hard he is in the morning, tucked against your back, your ass, you never say anything.

Your worst nights are his favorite nights.

He’s so, so selfish.

After so many years together, you have fully come out of your shell, when you’re with him. Not only do you turn to him for comfort, reveal your smile, only to him, you also show him the full spectrum of your inner world, your feelings. From sorrow, fear, need—to frustration, rage. You hold it in at school, carefully blank, until you get home, and then you explode. 

He loves it.

It’s a fireworks show that only he ever gets to see. He’s relieved that you have so much fire inside of you, after spending so long being afraid to express it.

He feels a sense of accomplishment, for being the soil in which you could flourish in all of your explosive colors.

Only he gets the privilege of watching your face, watching you throw things, screaming about your stupid schoolmates, your stupid teachers, the shit you hear people still saying about you.

He notes names. He catches the plates, the glasses, the vases. He absorbs it all, a gravity field pulling everything into him, into the hungry black hole at the heart of him. Whatever you have to give, he’ll take. He’s strong enough for the both of you.

After you seem to lose steam, he pulls you into his arms. I wish I could create a world with just the two of us. He savors how you melt into him, let him get so close to you, when you don’t even seem to be aware of anyone else in the world unless they draw your attention to them by being mean to you. You’re perfect just the way you are.

It occurs to him that he doesn’t like the fact that your attention is drawn to the people who say things about you.

So he’ll fix it. For you. And for him. He wants you to pay attention only to him.

He’s so, so selfish.

Do you feel better? He’ll ask, as your breathing slows, your heart rate lowers. You nod into his big chest, and it feels so, so good.

Sometimes, he pulls you to him too quickly, before you’re done exploding. You’ve bitten him, more than once.

The first time, you bit so hard that the mark lasted for weeks. Deep red marks from your cute, sharp teeth, buried in the meat between his thumb and forefinger.

He jerked himself with that hand, multiple times, every night, until the marks faded. Each time, he couldn’t take his eyes off the proof of your teeth in his flesh.

He wants to mark you in turn.

The size of his want terrifies him.

He is a black hole, and he is hungry. And you are the only thing that can fill him.

The kids at school who made the unfortunate decision of shit-talking you, of pulling your attention away from him, find items of contraband in their lockers that they never put there. They find themselves being accused of plagiarizing on extra credit papers that they never turned in. Their boyfriends, or girlfriends, break up with them, claiming they have a crush on someone new. Someone really popular, who unexpectedly paid so much attention to them that they felt like they were the only people in the world.

Sad really, that once they had broken up with their partner, he seemed to lose complete interest in them.

He is selfish, and he is a black hole, and he is hungry.

But once people learn not to fuck with you because of his efforts, your fits of fury become less frequent.

He misses them.

He wants you to explode all over him, like you used to.

He begins to intentionally provoke you, telling himself it’s healthy for you to be challenged, pestered, to face adversity, feel all your big feelings, and then safely let them go, into his gravity well, the deep well of his want.

When he eats your ice cream, he ends up hurting you much more than he intended. Denying you as his sister, again.

He hates it. He hates that he hurts you, every time.

He has to hope that you’ll forgive him, someday. That someday, you’ll understand why.

For now, he tries to soothe you with all of your favorite ice cream. A plan he already had in mind when he ate the last of the old stuff. You let him make you feel a little better, at least. He has to hope that someday, you’ll understand why he can’t fully make it up to you yet, because he has no idea what he’ll do if you don’t.

If you were to drift away, pull away from him, spin off into the universe without him, he would explode, collapse. The mass of his emotions—fear, anger, guilt, love, want, so much want—would implode, collapse, compound into the ever hungry black hole of his soul.

He would be lost without you anchoring him.

He’s so selfish. He hates himself. He can’t stop himself.

He is no longer satisfied, with you simply coming to him when you’re upset. Hugging him when you’re scared, and overwhelmed, recharging yourself like he’s a battery pack and you’re an empty little triple A.

He wants you to come to him when you’re happy. Because you’re as drawn to him as he is to you.

He always finds a reason to be in the bathroom at the same time you are, before school, or getting ready for bed. He brushes his teeth while you shower. He watches your blurry form in the mirror, and barely resists the urge to throw open the curtain, every time. To climb in with you, clothes on, and kiss your wet mouth. Get on his knees, and see where else you’re wet.

He hates himself. He can’t stop himself.

When he does pushups, he asks for your help. Your light weight on his back does nothing for his workout, but feeling your hands on his sweat-slick skin keeps him up at night in the same way your bite marks do.

He brings you the tiger balm, feeling so transparent, so pathetically obvious, insisting you help him apply it to his back.

He stares at your face in the mirror. Your little frown of concentration. The color in your cheeks again. He can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips along his skin. He wants to pull your hands from his back, place them on his chest, his big pecs. He wants to guide your hands lower, lower, past the hair beginning at his navel, down below the band of his basketball shorts. He wants you to take your hot little hands and wrap them around his big dick, tiger balm at all, make it sting for him, as he burns under your touch.

He is so, so selfish, and he hates himself.

He is an endless hole of voracious destruction, and you are the only thing that fills him.

He knows you’re isolated, that he’s all you’ve ever really had to fulfill any, every role for you. He knows you want him, that you watch him, that the color rises in your cheeks now when he’s close, but he’s so scared that it’s just a result of your isolation, of your dependence on him.

He’s so selfish, and he’s a coward. He’s so scared that if he acts, he’ll somehow be hurting you, exploiting you.

If you accept him, he’ll never know for sure if you love him for him or simply because he was the only one there. But you never show interest in anyone else.

He’s afraid that if you reject him, you’ll also end up hating him, and you’ll spin away from him into the dark velvet night.

He has to wait. Until you’re older, until you’ve seen more of the world. So that you’re sure you want him, after experiencing other things and people.

The idea makes him want to go supernova.

But no matter how selfish he is, he has to offer you the opportunity to know more than just him. And he needs to know your feelings for him are real. Maybe that’s a form of selfishness too, as he watches in satisfaction as your want for him, his big body, makes you pant, lean toward him as if pulled by gravity, as your brow furrows, and the yearning on your face is obvious for only him to read as your frustration grows when he doesn’t act.

It turns him on, seeing how much you want him.

It infuriates him, seeing how much people want you.

And you can feel it. He can see how your body tenses, how you begin to freeze, being the object of so many gazes.

It’s the worst at track practice, when you’re wearing those tiny as fuck running shorts. It boggles his mind, how they’re part of the standard track uniform for the girl’s team. 

His teammates, the other guys, openly gawk at your long, beautiful, naked legs. At your easy, graceful gate around the track.

He wants to use his evol to yank their eyes right out of their skulls.

Instead, he focuses on your needs first.

Jogs over you, blocks your view of their leering. 

You look up at him, your big bright eyes calming as he looks down into them. He lets his hands wander, like they always want to do. Fingering the hem of the shorts. Touching you, where no one else can. Where no one else will ever be able to.

Just because he wants to let you experience the world, does not mean the world gets to touch you. He’ll make sure of it.

You agree to put on his compression shorts.

His dick is rock hard in his own shorts, as he helps you change, as you lift your legs, one by one, as his barbell-roughened hands drift along your soft thighs, clutching the slippery material in his fingers, as he inhales the scent of your body, as you stare down into his eyes with your desire filling them like unshed tears. Tears he wants to make you cry.

You’re so fucking sweet. He loves you when you’re furious, spitting and biting. And he loves you when you’re like this, trusting him with your body, your needs, pliant and docile.

All for him. Only for him.

After, you seem calm, comfortable in your own skin again. You run so fast, your hair a flag behind you, as if you’re declaring war.

He turns to the guys who were ogling you, endures their stupid fucking jokes and sleazy comments. He bides his time. Waits until practice is over, and they’re in the boy’s locker room.

He pulls an apple from his duffle, floats it in the air.

Hey.

His voice is low, serious in a way it rarely is. It echoes through the mostly empty locker room, bouncing between the metal lockers, the tiled floor. It pulls their attention, the jarring disparity between his current tone and how he normally sounds. 

Their eyes widen as they see evidence of his evol for the first time. Everyone knows he has it. But he doesn’t use it at school. He doesn’t need it to stand out. He saves its tricks, its delights, for you, and you alone.

About the bullshit you were spouting on the track. She’s not my sister. And you don’t look at her.

They glance nervously at each other, the obvious, imperious order rankling their juvenile egos.

One of them pipes up. What’s the big deal? If she’s not your sister, why do you care who looks at her?

This asshole isn’t entitled to an answer from him. Doesn’t matter. You just don’t fucking look at her. He forces calm authority into his voice. Forces himself to smile, to wear the lower part of the mask, the part that doesn’t reach his eyes.

One of the guys, the one who always says the most disgusting shit about girls, about guys he doesn’t think are masculine enough, scoffs. What’re you gonna do to us, huh? You gonna chew my ass, like you chew your dumbass apples?

The other guys exchange nervous glances, nervous chuckles.

I’m not interested in your ass, bro. He grins. It probably looks wrong, based on their reactions. I’ll just… he begins, casually. He flicks his wrist.

The apple explodes, as if crushed by hammer—the pieces of the fruit spatter the faces and chests of the guys standing around him with wet, fleshy impacts. The pieces that would have hit him fall to the ground with heavy-sounding splats.

He smiles cheerfully into the ringing silence. We good?

The fuckhead still doesn’t seem to have quite gotten the memo. He swats the apple sticking to his face, sneers. You’re so full of shit. A golden boy like you with your entire future ahead of you wouldn’t commit murder over a piece of ass.

Caleb sighs. Leans back. Shrugs. True. Killing your dumbass outright isn’t worth being sent to prison. But you know, he says thoughtfully. He spreads his legs wide on the bench. Talks like he’s just shooting the shit, waves his hand leisurely. Accidents happen, all the time. You’re throwing a baseball, and suddenly something snaps in your shoulder. It would be a shame, if you could never throw a ball again. Or say, you’re about to cross the finish line, and you step funny, you know? And you never do walk right, after that. Or you’re playing basketball, and suddenly, poof—burst aneurysm, bleeding out, right in your brain. That shit can happen to even the healthiest of athletes. Just, bad luck, man. The human body is so fragile. As fragile as the skin of an apple.

The guys stare at him in silence. A droplet of water drips from a showerhead, splashes onto the floor. Even the biggest idiot seems to be at a loss for words. 

He smiles, smiles, smiles. 

Don’t look at her ever again, and you won’t have to worry about all that. He gets to his feet, slings his duffel over his shoulder. Puts his hands in his pockets. Whistles, as he meanders out of the locker room.

Later, he’s doing the household’s laundry. He’s lifting dirty clothes out of the combined dirty clothes basket from the bathroom, and your little slippery running shorts fall out of the handful he’s trying to stuff into the washer.

He stares at them on the floor. Slowly puts the stuff in his hand in the machine, thinking.

He’s a black hole, and he’s so fucking hungry.

He squats down, lifts the shorts. They’re tiny, in his big hands. He sits quietly, listening. You’re upstairs in his room, doing homework. Gran’s at work. He’ll hear you, if you come down. You tromp through the house like an elephant. It’s adorable.

He lifts the shorts to his face, shoves his nose in them. Inhales.

He’s squatting at your feet again, in the locked bathroom at school. He’s looking up at you, your chest rising and falling with your rapid breath. He can smell you, the intensity of your excitement at the proximity of his face to where you want him the most. As he opens his mouth, as he extends his tongue to the built-in underwear of the little slip of fabric, he imagines that he’s back in that bathroom, leaning forward, bringing the flat of his tongue between your legs. He imagines that you thread your pretty hands in his hair and pull him closer, urging his tongue deeper into you. He imagines, as he fills his mouth with as much of the fabric as he can, breathing through his nose, that you come on his face, with your soft noises of pleasure echoing through the tiled bathroom.

He comes in his pants.

He hates himself, as he pulls your shorts out of his mouth. As he places them gently into the washer. He hates himself, but he can’t stop himself. He knows he’ll do this again, and again, until he can have the real thing.

That was towards the end, of everything.

Even as he was packing his bags, he didn’t see it coming. 

He made you so many promises that he, in all of his youthful hubris, believed he could keep. About how often he’d be home. About how often he could be in touch. About how close he’d still be able to stay to you, through time and distance.

He lifted you with his evol in a field of wildflowers, watched your lovely hair float around your beautiful face, and he came so close to losing control, and kissing your soft lips.

He made you so many promises, and he broke one the first day he was gone.

Because when he arrived for basic training, they took his phone away, and didn’t give it back for six weeks. Something about fostering camaraderie with his fellow cadets. Bullshit.

It got worse from there. Basic training. Specialized training. Combat missions. Flight missions. He was either out of range, or the op required radio silence. He was determined to reach the highest ranks. To be able to best provide for you. But that required confidentiality, restricted security clearances. More and more things he couldn’t talk about. More and more important holidays and events he was forced to miss.

And then one day he came home, after having been away on a longer-than-usual undercover mission, and instead of his still, quiet girl with the serious face, who only smiled for him, who crawled all over him, and treated him like her personal servant, who blew up at him, bit him, screamed, threw shit at him, and was the sweetest little thing, soft and pliant in his arms, only for him, waiting for him, he found…

You. Wearing a mask so obvious that he could see its ribbon tied through your lovely hair.

By the time he finally made it home again, he had already lost you.

You smiled at him, and it didn’t reach your eyes. You smiled at Gran. You smiled at the checkout boy at the corner store. You smiled at random fucking strangers on the street.

You smiled, smiled, smiled.

You smiled, and it looked wrong on your lovely face. Not the smile of when you’re flying, when he would make you fly.

Something artificial, and empty. Your smile was a pot, filled with a plastic flower instead of a living rose.

You talked about your friends at school. Your sudden, numerous extra-curricular activities.

You smiled at him so politely, with such empty eyes, he wanted to flip the fucking table.

You treated him like a stranger.

No matter what he did, no matter how much he poked you, teased you, tried to corner you and interrogate you about your sudden change, you slipped away, with a false, cheerful laugh.

He wanted to crush his own eardrums, instead of hear that fucking fake laugh again.

And then he had to go back to the DAA.

He had to keep leaving you, and the visits in between became fewer, and fewer, as his training intensified, as he failed psych eval after psych eval, despite his perfect marks in everything else, his perfect mask that drew people to him like flowers to the sun.

You stop responding to his calls, his texts. 

He can’t get you to respond, but he can use his newly acquired hacking skills, his new security clearances, to keep track of you even if you won’t even say hello.

When he gets back from one particularly grueling, strange mission in the Deepspace Tunnel, he reconstructs your movements of the past few weeks based on your phone’s location, your socials. He sees that your phone spent the night at an unfamiliar address. It’s not one of your new friend’s places. You’ve never done that before. You stay at your dorm. You stay at friends’. You stay at Gran’s.

He breaks so many security regulations, civil rights laws, identifying the person who lives there.

Some random guy, who is built just like Caleb. Big, tall. Handsome, dark hair.

Caleb sits on his bunk, his hand over his mouth.

He feels like he needs to vomit.

He has never vomited after the highest g-force training required by the DAA, but he needs to vomit imagining you letting someone else touch you, exposing your most vulnerable self to him, while wearing your fucking mask.

Caleb wanted your first time to be soaked in pure, overwhelming love. To be with someone who’d watch every single fleeting expression on your beautiful face, who would kill himself to make you feel cherished, to make you feel as good as physically possible. To feel safe enough to wear your real face, the whole time, safe enough to tell him what you want, so he can give you everything you deserve.

And Caleb knows that he is the only person in the universe who could give you that, in the way that you deserve. He was built to protect you. His purpose is to love you. You are his anchor, his twin star, the only thing keeping him from exploding into blinding supernova light, collapsing into his own devouring dark. He knows you best. He knows everything about you, and he would use that knowledge to make you feel like you were flying as he made love to you.

What if that fucker hurt you? What if he made you cry? 

Caleb rushes to the toilet, vomits for the first time in years. 

While Caleb was hallucinating about the past, present, future, lifetimes that haven’t happened yet, reliving strange memories of being in a lab, observed through glass, as he was adrift in deep space during his last mission that so quickly went sideways, dying from oxygen deprivation, you were having your first one-night stand.

You fucked a guy that looked just like him.

The only thing that prevents that motherfucker from suffering a terrible, unfortunate accident, is the fact that you ghost him, after. 

Caleb knows, because he tracks every fucking thing you do, after that, every time he is within range in Skyhaven.

He forces himself to check, to look at your socials, to see who’s posing in pictures with you.  He forces himself to know, when your phone starts to spend time at random peoples’ places, almost every weekend. 

Each time, a different guy. Each time, they look like Caleb.

Each time, their lives are spared because you ghost them.

He tells himself that there’s still time, a chance, to salvage things. To make up for every single grievance you have against him. To make up for every promise he didn’t mean to break.

Your fake smile tells him that he is no longer your safe space. But he can rebuild himself for you, turn himself into what you need to feel safe, protected, cared for, cherished. He did it once, when you came home for the first time.

He just has to do it again.

You’re an adult now. You’re a Hunter now. 

He comes home on a break. You politely pour him water. He smiles at you with his mask, and you smile at him with its twin on your face. He did this to you. But he will make it right.

He’s going to tell you. This visit. Before he goes back to Skyhaven. He’s going to tell you, how much he loves you, not as a brother, but as a man, and always has. How he’s finally in a place to care for you, as an adult, without the restrictions of childhood, of societal expectations. He’s going to tell Gran about how he has never felt like you were his sister.

He almost loses his shit, when he sees the scratch on your arm, when you insist on sending him to the store instead of letting him back you up while you investigate the alert on your Hunter’s watch. So desperate to show him how much you don’t need him anymore.

He breathes deeply. Says something stupid, out of frustration, about hiding your bloodied sleeve from Gran.

You say something biting to him in return, your own mask slipping a little, as your genuine frustration, your anger at him slips through. He cherishes it, feels triumph rise in him.

Yeah, he’s gonna make things right. He’s going to tell you that he loves you, and that he’s yours, and always has been. He’ll beg, if he has to, for you to say that you are his in return.

He goes into the house first.

On a bright, sunny day, filled with determined hope for the future, Caleb Xia dies in the bright, supernova flash he always knew had been waiting for him.

[oc-brainstorms]

My strange addiction 18+

Perv!Dom!Voyeur!Kang Dae-ho x Sex addict!Fem!reader/Thanos x Reader(kinda)

Synopsis: SMUT! Sex addict reader finds Dae-ho jerking off to her and Thanos having sex, she makes it her mission to try him out next and Dae-ho treats her exactly how she wants to be treated wink wink

warnings: Kinda dark/swearing/mentions of death/murder/ kinda cheating?/Mentions god(in a bad way)/Voyeurism/bathroom sex/public sex/mentions of anal/smut/reader uses thanos/Dae-ho is kinda pervy/rough/non-con?dub-con?ish/unprotected sex/p in v/Oral (M receiving)/daddy kink/reader is a sex addict/horny af/reader is fucking feral/overall filth/aftercare/angst/fluff/reader has some major issues (I haven't slept so if I've forgotten anything let me know) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Words: 4.5K (it’s a long one)/

Unedited! there's gotta be a few mistakes in it but I wrote this instead of my dissertation and sleeping so take it for what it is I guess.

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I was never one to drink, do drugs or jump off tall things all for a little adrenaline rush-No, I was particular in my chosen addiction. Sex was always my vice. I tasted it one and couldn't get enough. It’s never really mattered to me what they look like or how good at it they were, if the thought pops into my head then it’s all I crave, like an itch that demands to be scratched. Sometimes I don’t even want it, like when a smoker who's trying to quit doesn't even think about lighting the cigarette in their mouth, it's basically a habbit.

Many interactions with vile, disgusting men and bad life choices led me right here, surrounded by people in green sweatsuits playing deadly children’s games for money. It’s not exactly where I thought I'd end up, I always thought I’d die in a ditch somewhere-discarded and used without a care in the world.

Salty sweat drops fall on my forehead from the purple-haired man thrusting to his hearts content in an out of me, grunting in my ear like he's on a mission. He’s not bad, a little too desperate and loud for my liking but hey, a fuck is a fuck. Plus he was pretty good-looking under the whole wannabe-bad-boy-rapper persona.

“You like that? hmph-So good-so so good.” He grumbles, his voice mere groans of hot breath in my ear.

“Feels so good daddy-please keep going please!” My voice was no higher than a pathetic whisper in return, becoming conscious of the creaks the bed was emitting, echoing in the empty space of the room. Thankfully many people this side had died in the previous game.

My hips were beginning to ache from the angle I’m spread to- My jaw clenching as I feel him wrap his hands behind my knees and shove them up until they hit my shoulders. The pain was easing from my hips but it did nothing for the lack of excitement I was feeling. It was a little mundane for me, stuck in missionary while he has the time of his life-but it will satisfy my needs nonetheless.

I can’t help but let my thoughts wander, craning my neck to glance over his shoulder as his pounding continued, just listening the the sounds of our skin slapping and the weak sounds of the bed frame holding us up.

My attention is suddenly drawn to a rusting from a bed on the other side of the room. Under the glow of the obnoxiously large piggy bank I can just make out a large figure, laid in bed with the covers just covering his hip. Squinting into the darkness I make out rapid movements under the covers.

Is this perv getting off to us?

I let my eyes linger for a while, feeling myself getting wetter from the idea of this stranger pleasuring himself to the sounds of us fucking. Trailing my eyes up I can just about make out his number, 388. Taking a mental note, I try to peak at his face through the darkness.

A gasp gets caught in my throat as I make eye contact with dark eyes that stare back at me. His whole face wasn't clear but I could sense his eyes burning into mine as he welcomed himself to the free porn he was witnessing.

‘So fucking wet for me.’ Thanos panted out, snapping me back to his attention. Thankfully his head was buried in my neck and he was too busy chasing his own high to notice my distraction.

Maybe I should give him a show.

I took my hands and placed them firmly on Thanos’ chest.

“Stop.” I manage to gasp out, pushing him back enough to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are crazy, Purple strands sticking to his forehead. His thrusts stagger a little before coming to a stop.

“What the fuck is wrong girl, why are you stopping me when I'm about to fill you up?” The tone of his voice is slightly erratic, and a little too loud-but I had new priorities than everyone else's sleep.

“I just wanna ride you Daddy, please?” Fluttering my eyelashes up at him, I knew he couldn't disagree with me, especially as I clenched myself around him.

“Fuck okay-okay.” He talks over himself, gripping at my sides to manoeuvre me on top of him.

I knock my head on the metallic grate on underneath the bunk on top of us, but don’t even stop to acknowledge the pain, I've got a new task to complete. I can’t let poor 388 go to bed unsatisfied now can I?

I reposition myself straddling him, letting my hands rest on his chest while he sinks his dick into my hole. I’m already pretty raw so it stings from the stretch, feeling him throb inside me from the sensation, a small gasp erupts from my throat.

Rocking my hips back and forth, I feel him glide in and out of me, making sure to arch my back and stick my ass out to give the best possible view to my new friend.

“Just like tha-fuck just like that.” he mutters through staggered breaths. I can feel him getting close so I need to do my best with the time I have.

In a brave move, I move my hands up from his chest and glide them up my body, stopping to grip onto my breasts and squeeze, Hard. I moan louder than necessary, but not loud enough to cause a scene.

Bouncing hard on his dick, I bring my hand to my throat and start to lightly choke myself, throwing my head back and feel my hair hit my back.

“Fuck this pussy, oh god, oh my fucking god-so good, so tight oh fuck.” I hear him groan, reaching his climax as hot spurts of cum squirt inside of me, filling me up.

I lean forward, laying my chest back down and craning my neck to glance over my shoulder. I watch how 388’s covers slowly come to a halt, a subtle shake as he finally finishes. I wish I could hear him trying to catch his breath over the snoring of the rest of the room, but ill sleep happy with the knowledge I've done my job-for now.

“You finished right, girl?” My attention is drawn back to the heavy breathing of the purple haired asshole under me, his hands still feeling up my hips and ass as I catch my breath.

“Yeah sure.” I nod, through gritted teeth, slipping him out of me and laying beside him.

“Good, gotta take care of my girl, especially when she’s being so damn good for me!” He ruffles my hair before turning over, falling asleep almost instantly.

God he has so much faith in me not to kill him in his sleep.

My mind didn't relax enough to sleep, too focused on all the ideas I had to get my way, I will seduce this man, I don’t even care if he’s ugly or horrible. Anyone that desperate to cum clearly needs my help, maybe he’ll actually make me cum.

My lord isn’t it bad I'm more focused on this than the games? well I guess it is a game of sorts… wtf is wrong with me, anyways.

I roll my eyes and try to push my thoughts away. Ignoring the sweaty body next to me, I pull my crumped clothes back onto my body and lay back down, fading off to a dreamless sleep.

----

The most irritating and mind-numbing sickly song wakes me up in the morning. That along with the bright lights is enough to make me kill someone-even outside of the game.

I’ve never been a morning person, nighttime is where all the fun happens-hell I don't even wake up till gone 2pm most days. However, this morning I have a task-find this mystery man.

I sit up in bed-taking no notice of the absence of the man next to me, and try to brush my fingers through my knotted hair, pinching my cheeks and lips to look more alive.

God did they have to give us these ugly ass outfits.

Doing the best with what I have, I tie up the top into an extreme crop and pull the joggers down lower on my hip, lazily throwing the sweatshirt on.

It'll do.

I scan my eyes around the room like a predator hunting its prey, reading everyone’s number until my eyes land on the one I'm looking for.

Bingo.

He’s tall, good looking-man bun be damned, chuckling along with something an older man is saying and a-is that bitch pregnant? Damn. He stretches, his muscles flexing as he does, almost having me salivate on myself. He doesn't even glance over here before waltzing over to to the breakfast queue.

My footsteps are fast but inconspicuous, anyone else probably would’ve thought I was just hungry- and I guess they'd be right, but not for food.

I manage to squeeze in behind him, shuffling my feet closer to his.

“You’re pretty cute for a perv.” His shoulders stiffened, glancing at me over his shoulder.

‘What?” He mutters back to me, his eyes raking over my body before returning his eyes forward.

“I thought guys who liked to watch people fuck without them knowing were balding and lived in their parents basement with food stuck to their face and a box of tissues next to them.” Ok, that was a weird thing to say- but am I wrong?

His breathing takes a sharp incline as he shuffles forward with everyone else in the line.

“I wasn't watching you.”

“It’s okay baby I'm not mad a you, was I good for you?” my voice is confident but low, closer to his ear than before because of the people joining the queue behind me. Not sure if he's really as in to public humiliation as he is into public masturbation.

“I'm sorry, okay?” he whispers, without glancing back. More of a whimper really, slut.

“I just told you I'm not mad.” Im more short in my answers-im starting to get bored from this restrictive situation. I do get bored easily.

My lips almost touch his ear as I lean in, playing dangerous.

“Should've let me know you needed it daddy, this pussy has your name all over it.” I stroke over his back as I come down, tits grazing his back.

He chuckled darkly, looking down at his shoes, before turning his body to to me, a slick smirk playing on his mouth as he leant down and met my eyes.

“Really? Because to me it looks like it has that guy’s cum all over it.”

He blinked, before turning back and continuing to follow the queue.

I don’t have an answer for that, he really got me there to be fair.

My lips form a sharp line and I feel a heat rush to my cheeks, I kept my eyes down and stayed silent. I didn't know I could still feel embarrassed by anything-but here we are. I also tried to ignore the wetness growing between my thighs at the situation, the degrading really does it for me I guess.

He grabbed breakfast from the guard before sauntering off, out of the corner of my eye I saw him silently giggling to himself as he walked away, asshole.

I picked up my pathetic little apple and grumbled, taking a harsh bite out of it. If he's playing hard to get then I guess I'm just gonna have to play harder.

----

After the games, the vibes really sucked. Thanos was loud and annoying as usual but at least he didn't let me die. That was kinda nice of him, or maybe it was the fact I promised him anal if he got me through it-but nevertheless, it good to be alive.

I spent a long time in the bathroom, making sure I looked perfect after that mess. I also scrubbed myself raw, feeling dirty after the game, and the fuck and especially after 388’s comment. The 5 minute shower I somehow convinced the guard to let me have did wonders. He did watch me the entire time-but at least I'm clean!

After we once again got voted to stay, I got bored of the repetitive conversation and laid on my bed, staring at nothing in particular.

I glanced down over my feet at the door to the bathrooms, taking notice of the tall pretty boy leaving.

I didn't think twice about it, my feet moving on their own. I had to have it out with this man- he acts like a disgusting pervert watching me fuck and suddenly he's all cocky? I don't think so.

Thankfully the guards really don't give a fuck about who goes into what bathroom. I stand outside waiting, watching for the door to open. I didn't want to enter the bathroom and catch him pooping- I may be deranged but I'm not a total freak.

He wasn't in there long, and nobody had come in or out since him. Hearing footsteps approaching the door I give a quick wink to one of the guards, Showtime.

He barely opened the door before I pushed him back inside, closing us in the empty bathroom.

“Woah.” He managed, jumping on the defence and getting ready to attack before his eyes locked on me.

“Oh its you.” he relaxed, sighing.

“You miss me?” I asked sweetly, leaning back against the door with my hand resting on the metal handle.

“It's hard to miss you when you keep showing up,” his hands moved to his hips and his face bore an amused smirk, playful.

“You upset me earlier, thought you'd wanna make it up to me.”

“By telling you the truth? if that upsets you darling then you put have a real hard time with everything else in here.”

“Listen, you-”

“No you listen,” He steps towards me, a strange dominance lurking under his voice.

“I have enough going on here without some needly little whore deciding she's important enough to start bratting out because I used her pathetic show of attention-seeking to get myself off.”

My breathing increases as he steps closer, I was not expecting that to come out of his mouth, I’m not often too stunned to speak but somehow he's done it in the two conversations I've had with him.

I stare up at him through my lashes, my mouth dropping open a little as I pant through it. God is this turning me on?

“You gonna do something about it, tough guy?” Is all I manage to conjure, coming out in a stupidly quiet voice.

“Since you seem so desperate for me I'll do you a favour and put that dirty little mouth to use shall I?” He suddenly reaches forwards and grips my hair in his hand, a sound between a moan and a sob exiting my mouth as he does.

He shoves me across the room and into a stall, pushing us both in before slamming and locking it shut behind us. His grip stayed strong in my hair.

I don't know what I thought this guy would be like, I thought he would be a sweet little perv who helps pregnant girls and laughs along with old men’s jokes and then rubs one out while watching two people fuck like animals.

“Kneel.” He demands, his grip one my hair beginning to give me a headache. I don’t move, sure I've had men be rough before but this really took me by surprise.

“You want me don't you?” He spits out, but something in his eyes seemed softer, like a shimmer of guilt washed over them.

“Yes sir.”

“Then be a good girl and show me how much you want it, down on your knees.”

My knees buckled by themselves, gripping his thigh for support I hit the dirty bathroom floor and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You know what to do slut, I'm sure you've had enough practice.” His eyes were back to being hard now, whether it was all the emotions during the games or something else had hardened him, and he desperately needed release, and Im more than happy to help with that.

I bring my hands up to his waistband, dragging down the green joggers and his boxers down together, watching as his hard cock flung free.

“Spit on it.”

I swirled my tongue around my mouth and tried to muster all the saliva I could, bringing my lips to the tip of his dick and letting my spit slowly drip onto it.

His eyes glaze over and he leans his head back, a groan slipping through his lips.

Taking my chance, I grab his throbbing cock with my hand and slowly pump my spit all over his shaft.

“I-is that good daddy?” I manage to stutter out, hand moving up and down as I slowly trail my tongue up his tip, tasting the pre cum that's already leaking out.

What the fuck is wrong with you, get your shit together.

“You know that's good slut, you're just begging for my validation aren't you?” He chuckled again, that deep chuckle he keeps doing that sounds like he's just been told a dirty joke, amused but interested.

I ignored the degrading tone and looked back down to his cock, its big and throbbing-a lot bigger than what I'm used to, or at least than what I've had in a long time.

Nervousness seeps into my brain but I push it back, taking him into my mouth and guiding him to the back of my throat.

As my nose hits his clothe stomach, my head is whipped back by his grip on my hair, a sudden flash of pain strikes my cheek and I feel tears welling up in my eyes from the sting.

“I asked you a question slut, or are you too stupid to use your words?” The look in his eyes flashed with amusement, like he was speaking to a cute puppy who just learnt a new trick.

“Yes sir.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir, I want your validation.” It hurt to spit the words out, but as soon as I did my head was thrusted back onto him.

He doesn't speak for a while, just grunting softly and leaning his head back against the cubicle wall with his eyes shut, fucking his dick right to the back of my throat like I'm nothing but a fleshlight he's using. All I can do is stifle my gags and take him, my face wet with my tears and the saliva dripping down my chin.

“So.Fucking.Good.” He chokes out between thrusts.

My mind goes black with everything else other than pleasing him, nothing but the pain in my throat and the blurry vision of his body above me.

His breathing quickens and I'm sure he's about to cum, my hair now fully being ripped out by the strength of his hands tangled in it.

“What should I do?”

I look up at him and try to muster up the most confused face I can under the circumstances, managing to furrow my eyebrows.

“Should I cum…down your throat?” His thrusts begin to slow slightly as he drags out his question.

“Or on this pretty little face?” His finger drops down and traces my jaw.

“Or should I have you lift up your shirt so I can cum on those perfect tits of yours, baby?” His questions receive no answer considering my mouth was still bing invaded by his thick cock.

“No, No, I know the perfect place.” His voice is dominant and looms over me.

With a swift movement he pulls me off of him, one arm under my armpit while the other stays in its place in my hair. They glide down to my own joggers, ripping them down to the floor along with my underwear, leaving me exposed and shaking from all the sensations of my body.

His large hands find my thighs and grips onto the backs of them.

“Jump.” He orders, and of course I follow through. Before I know it I’m pinned up against the cold wall, and being forced to bounce on his solid dick that's thrusting in and out of me at a rapid pace.

My arms find his shoulders and I cling on, hiding my whimpers in the Crook of his neck as I let him use my cunt for his pleasure.

“You want me to make you cum don't you doll?” He teases.

“Ye-Yes s-sir, please sir, yes, yes, yes!” I hate how the pathetic yelps come out of my mouth but the pleasure rocking through me takes my mind away from any embarrassment.

“That other little boy couldn't do it for you could he? You need a man to make you cum don't you huh?”

“Please make me cum Daddy, I'll do anything.” my voice sounded more like broken sobs coming through my lazily parted lips, already cock drunk from this humiliating situation.

He grips my wrist tightly and drags it between my legs.

“Rub yourself, c’mon princess I know you can do it,” His sweet words hit my ears and I immediately obey, becoming a gasping, moaning mess as I rub rapid circles around my sensitive clit.

Almost immediately after I feel myself reaching my climax, my head throwing itself back as he lunges for my throat, leaving sharp hickeys down my neck.

His breathing changes and soon after he's open-mouthed kissing my neck as I feel him pump his cum up into me, the grip he has on me weakening with every moan he produces.

As he lets go of the hold he has on me I drop to the floor, knees weak after the use he put them through. Im tired, and sore and sticky, I can feel him dripping out of me and onto the disgusting toilet floor. My eyes are heavy and my face flushed, with chapped lips and baby hairs sticking with sweat to my forehead and a tangled mess behind.

As the glow of my orgasm fades I get the same sinking feeling I always get when I finish, the feeling where Im immediately disgusted and ashamed and just want to cry and try and forget that I've just made a fool out of myself for a strange man.

I bring my hands to my face and sigh deeply, still trying to catch my breath. I forget the man*-whose name I still don't know* is there. Im sure he’ll see himself out eventually.

My unravelling show of self-pity is interrupted as I feel the man crouch down next to me, silently watching me cry into my hands.

Awkward, I bet he's regretting even meeting me now.

“Hey,hey.” He coos, his voice softer than soft. He seems afraid to touch me as his fingers ghost over my arm.

I bet he's so fucking irritated god I would be.

Imagine you've just fucked someone out of pity and they start crying on the fucking floor.

“I’m just gonna clean you up okay angel?” I sniffle and stop in confused awe. Moving my hands away from my face I wipe the tears off and pull them down until my eyes are peaking through.

He keeps eye contact for a moment before reaching over and grabbing toilet paper from behind him, ripping some off he starts to clean up the mess between my legs, uttering small apologies as I hiss from the contact.

“Shh..it's okay baby, you're okay.” His words are soft and comforting as he manoeuvres my clothes back on me. His hands stop at my waist as he tries to catch my eyes, but I'm looking everywhere but his face with my half-lidded gaze.

“Can I see that pretty face again? Please baby, let me clean you up.” I nod, eyebrows still subtly furrowed in suspicion.

With the softest touch he moves my hands away from my face, taking them in one of his and using the other to gently wipe off any moisture that remained. His touch felt like a feather grazing my skin, it was nice, I've never been treated so nicely before.

He fucking hates me doesn't he, oh well what do I care, I don't care anyways.

He places a hand on my knee, not in a way that's sexual but more of a calming gesture, probably to help stop the shaking by body has absentmindedly started doing.

Everything inside me is telling me to run, push him away and go find my bed to rock myself to sleep in, but something about the kind care in his eyes and the gentle touches he's gracing me with is making me want to stay here for as long as I can.

His other hand comes up to my hair, his fingers attempting to gently remove the knots that had built up from his harsh tugs.

‘Did I hurt you, go too far?”

I shook my head.

“Why are you doing this?” I broke my silence, voice barely audible.

“Doing what, sweetness?” He glanced down at my face, his voice soft and caring with a glance of concern.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The words left my lips with a short chuckle, not an amused, joking chuckle, but more of disbelief and confusion-like when you hear something so ridiculous you can't help but let a chuckle slip out.

I sound so fucking pathetic.

“I’m taking care of you, you deserve it.” His confusion grew, his eyebrows getting more furrowed together the more he took in the disbelief on my face.

“You don't even know me, I don't even know your name, you don't know mine.”

“I would like to.” I stopped, staring blankly at him.

“My name Is Y/N.” I mustered up, I'm sure he doesn't really care-but it would be nice to be on a first name basis with this man, at least he's being helpful.

“Beautiful name, it suits you.” He spoke without moving his head away from the focus he had on my hair.

“What's your name?”

“Dae-Ho” His fingers freed themselves and he leant forwards, placing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” he whispered against the skin of my forehead, the coolness of his breath causing a shiver to sneak down my spine.

“For telling me your name.”

Thank you for being nice, for holding me softly, for being so sweet and kind and affectionate to someone you don't care about.

“Angel I will tell you every single thing I know if it makes you happy.” My breath hitched and all wordings fell short in my throat. His eyes were light and kind, he didn't seem at all to mind easing me through this mini meltdown.

“Why?”

“I told you, i’d like to get to know you.’ He paused, his mind seemingly somewhere else, thinking deeply about his next words.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed with me tonight? i’d like to be able to hold you now, it feels wrong to part ways after this, unless you have plans with the crayon you were sleeping with before.” The sarcasm in his voice seeps through when he speaks about Thanos, a subtle spit of jealousy perhaps mixed in with his words.

Interesting development.

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A/N: Lit havent slept and wrote this with no editing so if its ass lmk lol- also my first piece of writing on tumblr! exciting times-many ideas ahead.

[be-xkyy]

I couldn't help but write this, I feel inspired after watching a police movie.

Tw: yandere, violence, abuse of power, dirty talk, unprotected sex, age differences, infidelity, alcohol, dubcon.

Yandere Corrupt Cop who has been a cop for almost ten years without getting a fucking promotion and having to deal with his crazy wife who only knows how to complain and claim him when she's at home. She's a bitch.

So it's normal that he's upset and frustrated. He has to be in the patrol car all day and all night scouring the streets looking for assholes who can't follow the fucking rules. They deserve a good beating before taking them to the police station.

But what he fucking hates the most are weekend nights, having to deal with drunk and drugged teenagers in their fancy cars who think they're a lot because they have rich daddies. fuck them. He drives on the empty roads except for the occasional car, quiet night. Until he sees a car that passes quickly on the avenue clearly exceeding the fucking speed limit. Bastard.

He accelerates and turns on the siren following the car that doesn't slow down for a few more blocks, his hands grip the steering wheel tightly and he feels his blood boil. Whoever it is is screwed. Finally after what seems like an eternity the car slows down stopping on the side of the road.

He decides parking right behind, he turns off the siren and only the red and blue lights flash in the night, he gets out of the car annoyed adjusting his seatbelt before slamming the door, he walks towards the car approaching the tinted window that slowly rolls down revealing the typical rich kid but his eyes are fixed on his passenger a sexy little thing, his girlfriend maybe? He's not sure but what he is sure of is that he loves you.

"Officer, we may have exceeded the speed limit a little but if you want you can give me a ticket—" the boy begins slurring his words clearly drunk but before he can finish he interrupts with a firm voice.

"Get out of the fucking car now, both of you. And face the hood, quick."

He watches angrily as they hesitate until finally the boy opens the door and staggers out. You follow his example, both of you standing in front of the car. He approaches and grabs the boy hard, giving him an unexpected blow to the stomach that knocks the wind out of him. You let out a shriek and the boy doubles over in pain. When you try to get closer, he puts his hand on his gun holster, looking at you and you freeze.

"Weren't you taught that you should automatically stop when a law enforcement officer orders it? Why are you trying to be smart, huh?"

He says as he flips the boy over, folding his hands behind his back. He grabs the cuffs from his belt and locks them on his wrists. He then stands up, looking at you standing there like a scared servant. Sexy girl. A sly smile slides onto his lips and he nods towards the hood of the car in front of you.

“Bend over the hood, quick.” He watches as your clouded eyes widen in disbelief at his words almost as if you can’t believe what’s happening. You shake your head as you say in an alcohol slurred voice “No. You can’t-”

“I can. And you can bend over the good way or I can bend you over the bad way, but I advise you to be good for your boyfriend’s sake.”

You bite your lip hard looking at your boyfriend on the ground in handcuffs, small tears pricking your eyes as you lean over the cold hood your cheek and palms flat against the metal, he reaches over his hands quickly grabbing a handful of your covered ass, squeezing the globes tightly before pulling up your skirt revealing your ass and lace panties.

"Looks like you were going to have fun huh? Did I ruin your moment? Don't worry I'll make it up to you at least baby"

He says in a teasing coo as he raises his hand and brings it down on your ass. Smack, smack, smack. You gasp at the spanking that leaves your skin red and stinging painfully. You close your eyes when you hear the sound of his zipper opening, he brings his fingers up to your mouth hitting your lips.

"Spit."

You reluctantly comply letting your saliva drip onto his fingers and he uses it to lube up his fat member pumping a few times before pulling your panties to the side revealing your puckered hole and glistening pussy he guides his cock into your folds sliding in as far as he can until he bottoms out, you bite your lip to keep from whimpering at the feeling of being so full.

He growls at the feeling of your walls throbbing around his cock as you try to accommodate him. Your nails dig into his head as he begins to thrust into you hard, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again making you dizzy, he places his hands on your hips using them to move you back each time he thrusts into you sending currents of undue pleasure through your body.

"Fuck– you're tight, huh! You don't get fucked enough huh baby? Poor pussy"

He says in an amused voice, when you don't respond he grabs you by the hair lifting you up and bringing your back to his chest, you feel his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending shivers down your arched spine.

"You know I wanted you from the second I saw you, I don't usually do this with women but I wanted you, I wanted you, very romantic huh, darling?"

He laughs against your ear as if it were very funny and you hold back so as not to insult him, you don't answer him and he rolls his eyes, without stopping thrusting into you he lowers the hand that is on your hip towards your pussy pinching your clit hard between his fingers and you can't contain your moans any longer, his movements become erratic at the same time that the knot in your belly tightens you try not to cum but it is difficult with all his attentions you reach the breaking point when he passes his wet tongue over your ear.

You can't help but cum, letting out a moan of pleasure as your vaginal walls contract around his cock. You can feel it throbbing inside you with a few final thrusts. He stops, letting out a guttural growl, filling you with his warm seed. You collapse onto the hood. He pulls out of you as his cock softens, sliding into his pants. He examines your open hole and watches as his cum slides out, so he uses two fingers to push his cum inside before adjusting your panties as he says in a threatening tone.

"I trust this will stay between the three of us, won't you? I'd hate to have to arrest you or worse."

[intaktuah]

Sweat For Me

Genre: Smut, 18+ mdni

WC: 4.3k

Pairing: Dom!Intak x sub!m-reader

CW: Begging, breeding, teasing, overstimulation, body worship (armpits & abs), riding, Intak likes to be called 'sir', sex on the floor,

You rarely visited the gym at night. After work you barely even had enough energy to drive home, but you were pissed tonight. Being a receptionist was a pain in the ass, especially when the customers are being so inconsiderate. For example today an elderly man who knew perfectly our schedule showed up 15 minutes before closing. He seemed to have enjoyed taking his sweet time looking around while you just stared waiting for him to leave.

To top it all off, your car’s engine light had turned on on your way back home. “I guess this day could in fact get worse.” You mumbled curses to yourself wanting to just crawl into a hole and forget everything. You were so angry at the world for seemingly putting every obstacle in your path. The only way to get over this was to blow off some steam. At the next stop light you made a sharp return making sure no cars were nearby and headed directly towards your local gym.

Something told you that a late night gym session would bring you some much needed relaxation, it would soon ease the tension you were feeling all over.

When you arrived at the almost empty gym parking lot you grabbed your extra set of clothes from the backseat and your headphones. With the shut down of your car you locked the doors and made your way inside.

Most of the machines were not being used and everyone seemed to be in their own jam they wouldn't even have noticed that you walked in.

You walked to the back of the gym where the locker rooms were located and spotted an empty bench where you could change into your workout clothes. As you slipped off your shirt over your head you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes staring at you. To your surprise, you turned to see a man around 5’11 wearing a black tank top with a matching set of black shorts. Dang that top was doing him favors in all the right places. His bulging muscles looked big like he had just finished his workout and his forehead was red with sweat. He stared directly into your eyes for a few seconds before making a small smirk with his lips and walking away.

“Was he checking me out?” The question lingered in your head as you slipped on your workout shirt and headed back out to the main floor.

At first your workout routine went as normal, some weights mixed in with some core workouts, eventually you decided to end the night with some cardio. You were walking towards the treadmill and checked the time on your phone, 10:45pm. The gym had almost no one anymore beside the people who come to workout before their night shifts or the ones destressing after a long day.

When you stepped onto the treadmill you felt a sense of turning back. And there he was again.

His presence felt different this time, more intimidating. From afar you could see his platinum blonde hair face onto his face, it was wet you could assume he had just gotten out of the showers. The other clear sign he had just gotten out of the shower was his bare skin exposed. His figure had to have been sculpted by the greatest artists of time. His glistening abs flexed on their own and his chest was firm; you could imagine having them within your grasps.

What is happening? Why would you be thinking these thoughts about a guy you don't even know?

Your consciousness returned and you turned all over to see if anyone else was looking at the sight in front of you. Everyone was so occupied they didn't even bother to turn around. When you stopped being paranoid you turned back to where the mysterious man was standing, but he was gone. Was it a hallucination?

Your brain was telling you to just shrug it off and finish your workout, but your heart and body wanted something else. They wanted to find out who this man was, and if he was real.

Your movements got the best of you and you couldn't think twice before you were heading straight for the locker rooms still looking around paranoid to see if maybe someone was aware of what was about to happen. The locker room was empty as far as your eyes could see. All of the showers were off and not a single soul was sitting at the benches. Maybe you had imagined him.

As you were about to head out a sound from deep down the hall made you freeze. Chills ran over your body when you realized you had forgotten to check the gym’s sauna at the end of the hall.

You made your way over to the entrance of the sauna with caution as if you were trying to avoid waking a bear from its nap. With a small creak you opened up the door just a smidge to find him sitting there playing with the towel wrapped around his waist. He hadn't seen you looking at him and you backed away from the door just in time to go unnoticed.

“What am I doing? Spying on him is crazy!” You couldn't help but try and whisper some sense to yourself. Just as you tried to peek through the hole again a face emerged from the sauna entrance. You would have yelped from the jumpscare if a hand had not come up and covered your mouth.

The blonde man brought up his right hand to his face making a gesture for you to “Shh”. “You don't want to cause a scene do you?”

His tone was condescending, making you feel stupid for almost screaming in a public space. But still you were shaken to your core. Who was he to have his hand covering your mouth? You questioned as you came to your senses and slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me! Why have you been following me?” You tried your best to sound demanding but it only caused a smile from the man.

“Why don’t you get more appropriate for a sauna, and then we can talk.” He leaned in to whisper his words even though no one was around. It causes electricity to be sent down your body. Were you turned on?

The blonde man seemed to notice because he just looked you up and down and went back into the sauna.

You were frozen in place. You couldn’t possibly fall for this, what even is this guy’s catch? You seemed to stay stuck for what felt like forever before you finally started to move away from the sauna.

You walked over to your duffel bag where your original work clothes laid out. If you went home now all that would be is sleep and another tiring day of work tomorrow. Why waste an opportunity for something new tonight, right?

Your curiosity seemed to get the best of you because by the time you realized you had stripped your shirt and shorts off only remaining in your tight boxers that pressed nicely across your ass. Your semi visible bulge peeking out in front.

If you were going to do this you were going to play your cards right. So before heading to the sauna you slid off your boxers and placed them with the rest of your clothes. Your length was now hanging free, but you didn’t want anyone else to see you like this so you quickly grabbed one of the sauna towels from outside the entrance and made your way inside.

As you entered the sauna with the towel wrapped at your waist you turned to see your gym stalker sitting with his back against the wall, legs up on one of the sauna benches. He smiled and patted the empty space next to him. However you weren't as trusting as you seemed so you decided to sit across from him mocking his position with your legs up on the bench.

The sauna was pretty spacious for being part of a gym. In the middle sat a pit filled with those dark hot rocks seen in movies, and on either side sat spare towels you could only assume for other members.

You didn't dare make eye contact with the mysterious man who had been drilling into you with his eyes. You figured that instead a sauna was exactly what you needed to relax and take your mind off of all the stresses in your life. With your eyes closed you took in deep breaths trying to focus only on your breathing. But your meditating state lasted only mere minutes before another sound of breathing pulled your attention away from your own.

You tried to push it away but it only seemed to get louder. You slowly opened your eyes and slowly turned your head in the direction of where he was sitting. Your eyes seemed to widen when you saw what he was doing because a slight smirk spread on the side of his face.

Is he jerking off? You took note of how the man was moving his hand in an up and down motion underneath his towel. His breathing had become more staggered causing his mouth to hang open. His forehead drenched in sweat from his movements, and his hair fell so beautifully in front of him. His hips would occasionally jerk upwards causing him to halt his movements, but when he came back down he would just start over. But this wasn't the most insane part of it all. He was staring directly at you.

You were hypnotized, mesmerized on the way his chest heaved up and down with each one of his fast paced movements you were sure he would be finishing any minute now. His words took you out of the trance, “I can stop if you want, I’d rather save this load for you.” He smiled fully now even letting out a small chuckle. Did he think you were a prostitute? Why would he have brought you in?

You clapped back almost immediately, “Who are you? What do you think this is? Because I am not someone who sells themselves.” Your body finally made the correct decision to get up off the bench and exit the same way you came in. However, the man was faster than you thought. He got up off the bench and ran to block the door, turning a lock you hadn't noticed before.

“My name is Intak, my father owns this gym, which answers your question about there being a lock on the door.” Intak placed his hand on your chest and seemingly pushed you back until you fell onto a bench. His built frame was towering over you and if you stared forward you would come in contact with his hard length. So you just kept your eyes locked with him that was until he crouched down so he was now in between your legs.

“You caught my eye when I first saw you in the locker room. Sometimes guys come this late at night only looking for one thing. I figured that was you, but now I'm thinking I was mistaken.” He was wrong about what you had originally come for but now that you were here you felt a hot feeling all around you. You weren't sure if it was the sauna’s steam or maybe.

Intak caught onto the shift in your eyes, “Or maybe I wasn’t.” Suddenly he grasped onto the bench you were sitting on and pulled himself up now looking at you face to face. There were only mere inches between your lips. Intak would look at your lips and then look back up at your eyes. You couldn't control your shivers but they weren't out of fear. You needed Intak, whatever spell he had casted on you worked because in an instant you broke the space between you two.

Intak must've been caught off guard because he let go on the bench and instead shifted his position to standing on his knees, all the while keeping his lips in touch with yours. Your kisses were rough and urgent like you had been poisoned and the cure was all over Intak’s lips. Lucky for you he was able to keep up with your fast pace. You could feel his smile while kissing him, he enjoyed the rush you were giving him and the way the steam from the sauna was driving you both over the edge.

He placed a few more kisses on your mouth before pulling away to catch his breath. You hadn't even realized how out of breath you were too. “Fuck your lips taste amazing.” Intak rubbed your hand as he moved his hands over to the towel that still wrapped around your waist. But you stopped him.

“I have another idea.” You brought Intak up to sit beside you on the bench but then immediately pushed his body down so he was on his back. You removed your own towel to show Intak your own hardening dick that had been gathering some precum from the makeout sesh. Intak was in awe he gulped down the knot that had formed in his throat and all he was able to mutter out was a small “wow”

You straddled Intak’s lap slightly rubbing your ass on his dick making him close his eyes and let out a small groan. Before he could have opened his eyes again you brought your mouth down to meet him again as you mashed lips together. You could feel Intak slide his tongue down your mouth exploring every inch of you. Your hands were climbing his head grabbing at pieces of his hair and pulling them back. The tug made Intak lift his head.

“You're pretty kinky aren't you.” He found your dirty actions fascinating. He took his own hands and reached down for your ass smacking down onto them and moving them so they would rub against his pelvis.

You had been kissing his neck and jaw while he did this but you stopped to look into his eyes. “Oh you have no idea.” But Intak wanted to test you. He slightly pushed you off of him, making you give him a confused look. He then slid on the bench bringing the upper half of his body up onto a wall in the corner while the other half still laid on the bench.

You were about to mount him again when he stopped you. He lifted his left arm and placed it behind his head with his right hand. He grabbed the back of your head and jerked you roughly towards his armpit. You could have swore he couldn't drive you anymore crazy but here you were taking in his masculine scent. “Well don't just sniff it” Intak sounded annoyed by the lack of actions, “Get yourself a taste.” The suggestion itself would have made you nut right then and there. You hesitated but knew that your horniness was too much to stop. You started from the bottom of his pit and placed your tongue on his fairly tanned skin. Tastes of sweat and salt attacked your senses as you explored Intak’s pit. Above you Intak was enjoying the sight of you being a mess for his armpit; he couldn't help but let out tiny moans.

“Fuck yeah keep doing that. Your tongue feels amazing.” You couldn't believe how horned up he was and you hadn't even sucked his dick yet. Intak eventually grabbed your head and moved you to his other armpit where you would repeat the same process of licking his hair free armpit. You wish it could have stayed like that forever but Intak brought you up to catch your breath. “I cant believe I’ve been so horny for you this whole time I don't even know your name.” He chuckled to himself sitting up letting you find a seat on the warm floor. “It's y/n. But you can call me anything you want.” You wanted to tease him.

“Huh, y/n. I like it. I'll be sure to use it later.” Intak slid over to have your face in between his legs. This time you were sure to make eye contact with his hard cock that was filled with his precum from jerking off earlier. He didn't need to say anything you knew what he wanted, and so did you.

You made your way over on your knees and slowly grabbed him from the base of his dick, Intak looked down at you with hunger in his eyes. He wanted to use you in every way he possibly could. He wasn't alone however, You wanted to feel every inch of Intak inside of you. So you started by slowly licking the tip of his cock making him squirm underneath you. You smiled knowing you had at least some power over Intak even if it was just for a moment.

“Enough with the teasing y/n, start sucking my dick before I make you regret coming in here.” His words shouldn't have turned you on as much as they did but he was right. You wrapped your lips around his uncircumcised tip and made your way down the 7 inch length. “Oh fuck y/n yeah just like that, you sure know you to swallow a cock.” Intak struggled to get his words out as your head bobbed up and down. You were going halfway while using your right hand to jerk the other half. Your left hand was rather occupied trying to touch yourself. Intak noticed you were trying to please yourself and grabbed your hair roughly making you spit out his cock.

He brought his face down making sure he was close to you. “Did I say you could touch yourself? It looks like you haven't understood who's the one in charge here.” Intak looked pissed like he was a spoiled child who was just told they were getting their way.

“Im sorry, Intak I won't do it anymore.” Bur Intak just looked at you before saying something that caught you off guard. “Call me Sir.” You looked at him with innocent eyes making sure you had heard what he said correctly. “Did you hear me? Because I really hate repeating myself.” Intak still had you in his grasp so you had no choice but to respond. “Yes sir.”

“That's more like it.” Intak did not allow you to process what had just happened before he brought you down to his dick once again but this time he didn't let you use your hands to jerk him or yourself off. Intak was more aggressive, making you go up and down on his cock. He brought you down forcing yourself to take all seven inches. You were gagging and you could feel tears swell up in your eyes from the pressure.

“Don't cry, you can take cant you y/n. You're my good little boy making sure I'm getting my pleasure first.” Intak had now let you go completely, you came off his cock coughing and grabbing your neck. “Next time you think of touching yourself without my consent you're going to see just how aggressive I can be.” Intak threatened you but you didnt care you wanted to feel it again.

He was somewhat shocked when you crawled back to his cock and immediately went to work again. He breath hitched and he rolled his eyes in pleasure as he felt your tongue swirling around the tip. Then you tried deepthroating his cock once again, your face turned bright red and you gagged at the pressure but it was worth it. Intak was a mess. “Oh y/n stop stop stop I’m gonna cum I don't want to cum yet.” He pushed you off his dick and stood up from the bench. He threw you completely down onto the floor “Woah Intak what’re you doing?” You barely managed to ask your question before Intak turned you over so your stomach was now flat on the floor. You couldn't see what was happening behind you until a short warning came from Intak. “Don't worry about it my boy, you're going to love what I am going to do with you.

Suddenly the sharpest of pains blazed in your tight hole as you slightly turned your head to see Intak sticking his tip into your entrance. His jaw hung open and he was filled with sweat all over his body. “Ngh~ Intak I think maybe you should have prepared me before.” You tried to reason but he wouldn't budge. Instead he laughed, “Oh y/n a little slut like you doesn't need prep, besides my cock is all lubed up from your spit. Trust me it is better this way.” So there he went with no condom, no lube, no preparation. Intak started to slowly thrust into you trying to keep himself up. Soon enough his thrusts started to pick up pace. “Intak please, it's so big, I don't think I can take it.”

You whined but it seemed Intak was tired of hearing you complain because he started to go faster making you moan and scream instead of talking. You could feel the way his uncut cock curved slightly to the left and how he was filling up your hole with his hard length. The sounds of skin slapping echoed through the sauna. You were surprised that nobody had heard all the sounds coming from inside. Intak had been fucking you so hard you felt weak and limp. You didn't even have the energy to try and pleasure yourself the size of his cock was pleasure enough inside of you.

Intak meanwhile was having the greatest sex of his life, he had now lifted up on his knees to get a better angle at digging into you. One of his hands was placed on your ass where he would occasionally give some smacks to make you nudge even a little. His right hand had traveled up to place your head down into the ground. You felt his immense body weight pressed onto you, his biceps flexing and twitching trying to maintain your head down but the pleasure was making you moan so much your head was moving around.

“Intak please~” You were feeling too much pleasure all around, Intak had you in the palm of his hands. But still there was something you wanted that you were sure he would love. “Intak. I~ I want to ride your dick.” The dominant man above you slowed his pace, thinking about your suggestion. “How bad do you want my sweet boy?” Oh so now he was teasing.

“Bad, I need it Intak please give it to me sir.”

Your pleads were enough for Intak’s hunger. He slowly pulled out of you and laid on the sauna floor; his hands motioned for you to come over. Crawling with the little strength you had left you climbed onto Intak. His eyes themselves were fucking you, examining every tired inch of your muscled body. You could tell he wanted this more than you did, so you positioned yourself facing directly at Intak wanting to keep fucking him with your eyes as well. “Are you ready?” You shot a smile at Intak making him smile back in anticipation as his smile turned into a big ‘O’ when you sank down onto him.

Riding Intak’s 7 inch cock was more pleasing than you ever could have predicted. His hips thrusted up into giving him the slight satisfaction that he was still the one in control, but you knew deep down that you had the power. Intak was going to lift half his body up to you but you pushed him back down. Instead you leaned down to place your lips to Intak’s chest. You placed soft kisses to his bare sweaty chest, licking his hard nipples. Both of the feelings of satisfaction were driving intak over the edge. “Y/n please I can’t do it, I want to fill you up.” You smiled at his words and continued your work even taking your hands to his abs grappling at them, leaving your mark on them.

“Fuck y/n I think I’m getting close.” Intak said as he fucked up harder into you making you moan in pleasure. “Cum in me, Intak.” He opened his eyes in shock, but you gave him a nod confirming where you wanted him to finish. Intak didn't hesitate for much longer, he started getting sloppy and with one final thrust he finished inside you. “Y/n~ fuck.”

The feeling of his seed inside of you filling every inch of you drove you insane as well. “Intak I’m cumming to!” You shouted as you kept bouncing on him, you dug your nails into his sharp abdomen. You stopped bouncing on him and felt as your load exploded out of your dick and all over your abdomen and Intak’s, some of it even reaching his face.

After coming off of your high you felt yourself fall down onto Intak’s body. You could feel him leak out of your hole and it was one of your favorite feelings. Intak grabbed some cum off his abs, “You wanna taste yourself babe?” You looked directly into his eyes as you sucked on his fingers, having the sweet taste of your own cum in your mouth.

“Y/n you are insane, I mean cumming without even touching yourself!” You chuckle at his words “I would love to do this again sometime.” Your suggestion made Intak’s eyes light up like he was a puppy who had just been offered to play. “Well I mean this sauna is technically mine, so it wouldn't be a problem having you in here.” With his sentence you both smiled at each other before having your lips meet together again still being able to feel the intense heat between the two of you.

Author's Note: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed my fic this is my first time writing smut. I wrote this as a request for a friend of mine so I hope they enjoyed this to. Also I am not really familiar with tumblr so please bare with me, but i would love to receive and requests from anyone!

[emsdevs]

Bear and Bug: The Pain

a/n: so so sorry for the wait! hopefully I can get stuff out a little quicker now that I'm used to my schedule! also gonna be completely honest this is not really proofread so ignore any errors! happy (or not so happy) reading! 🧸🐞

masterlist | bear and bug masterlist

The mood at the lake house was drastically different than usual. There’s no fun, no laughter, and most importantly, there’s no you. The boys were obviously feeling your absence, but Jim and Ellen refused to do anything to make them feel better. One way or another, each of the boys played a part in causing you to leave, so the couple decided to let their sons deal with the consequences of their actions. You were basically a daughter to them, and they hated knowing how badly you’re hurting right now because of their sons. If the boys wanted to fix this, they would have to figure out how to do it on their own.

Each of the boys was dealing with their emotions in different ways. Luke was quiet, which is heartbreaking when you truly know him. The kid never shuts up, but somehow, right now, he can’t find a single word to say. No one has heard him utter more than one or two-word sentences since the night you left. He knows it’s probably unhealthy, but he can’t get rid of the ache in his ribs from finding out that you kept a secret from him. He spends all of his energy thinking about what might have caused you not to trust him, so he doesn’t have any energy to talk with, stuck in his head all hours of the day.

Jack was secluding himself, spending hours at a time locked in his room. He only comes out to shower, use the bathroom, and grab food. When he does leave his room, he barely even looks at anyone. The anger is still obvious on his face. He’s not over the hurt you caused, and he’s not past taking it out on his brothers. He just hasn’t found the will to waste his breath yet. It wouldn’t be long, though, until he decides to take his anger out on you once more. He just has to find the time.

Quinn was handling it the worst. He only had two moods now: needing you so badly that he stays in your room all day and blaming himself so much that he can’t bear to look at your room. The house feels empty to him, dull even. Everything is better when you’re around, and he’s managed to ruin everyone’s entire summer by being selfish enough to start something with you. On the other hand, he really can’t bring himself to care. He was the happiest he’d ever been when he was yours. If nothing else, he’s still able to look back and see how great you were for each other, but he can also look back and think of what the two of you could’ve become. It was a never-ending cycle of pain and self-blame for Quinn, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape it unless he had you in his life again, one way or another. If he had to settle for pretending he never loved you and letting Jack occupy all your time, he would do it. He’d do anything to have you here again. 

~~~

Cole Caufield wasn’t sure what to expect when he heard a series of knocks on his door at 2:30 AM, but it definitely wasn’t you, face soaked with tears, and two suitcases. Without a word, he stepped aside, silently allowing you to enter his apartment. Your state, combined with the time and unplanned visit, has Cole in such a state of shock and worry that he almost misses when you collapse into his arms, sobbing once more.

“Hey, hey, hey,” when he regains the ability to think, he’s immediately comforting you, rubbing your back and speaking softly. “It’s okay. You’re all good. What do you need?”

“Can I please just stay here for a while?” your voice broke as you talked.

“Standing here or just at my place?”

“At your place.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Can I ask what has you so torn up?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it right now, Coley,” you sniffle.

“Okay. Okay, we don’t have to talk. Let’s get you settled in.” 

He brings you to the spare room in his apartment, helping you put away anything that needs it. When you two finish, he leaves the room, letting you change and clean up while he decides to order a pizza for you both. The pizza arrives just as you emerge from the spare room, and you both find a place on the couch to watch a movie while you eat. Cole tried to put on something he knew usually cheers you up, avoiding all the Disney movies that make you cry and going straight for Cars. The two of you have eaten six pieces of pizza and are about halfway through Cars 2 when you finally decide to open up to Cole.

“I was dating Quinn,” it more or less just spills from your mouth. You didn’t have much control over it.

“What?” Cole is nearly shouting, clearly shocked by the news. “Wait. What do you mean you were dating Quinn? You’re not anymore?”

You let out a big sigh before giving him a quick summary of the events of your last day at the lake house, “We kept it a secret for a while because we didn’t wanna freak people out or cause a scene if it wasn’t serious. We told Quinn’s family in the first few days we were there, and needless to say, Jack caused a scene. He was all mad at Quinn, telling him he couldn’t let him have anything for himself. He started yelling at us both, and of course, Luke heard. Then he was all heartbroken because I kept a secret from him. Oh! And Jack called me a whore.”

“Jack did what?” Cole’s voice once again raised. “I’m sorry. I just- I can’t believe Jack would say that about you. You’re not a whore by the way. I hope you know that. Don’t let him get to your head.”

“I just feel so guilty, Cole. That’s why I’m here. I broke up with Quinn, at least for the time being, and I knew I had to leave the lake house. They’d look for me at my parent’s house, and I figured they probably wouldn’t think of me coming to you. Thanks for letting me stay, by the way.”

“Of course. Have you thought about when you might go back?”

“Not at all. I tore apart their family. I can’t face them any time soon.” “Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but I’m going to the lakehouse in about three weeks. If you’re feeling up to it, you’re welcome to come with me.” “I’ll think about it, Coley.” ~~~

Quinn was growing tired of the tension at the lake house, and after one dirty look from Jack, he lost it.

“Will you please get off of your high horse? I mean, honestly, you can not be this mad that your best friend got a boyfriend,” he snapped at Jack, ready for whatever his brother might bite back with. 

“Oh, says you. You took her from me!”

“Really? I took her from you? Because she spent the entire summer last year with you because she knew you’d be leaving her, then she spent almost every night on the phone with you, listening to how horrible the NHL has treated you and how hard it is living the life you’ve always wanted! The only reason we even got close is because she was terrified you’d stop talking to her once you made it big!”

“Oh, whatever! She’s been in love with you since we were kids. Everyone could see it. That’s why I tried to keep her to myself. This was all just some big plot she made up to get what she really wanted!”

“Will you quit talking about her like she’s some puck bunny you slept with on a roadie? God! This was not some big scheme. She felt horrible lying to you, to everyone. I mean, you’re the only reason we kept our relationship a secret. She knew how rough you had it, and didn’t wanna put any more stress on you! If you learned to deal with your emotions like a big boy we probably would’ve told you and everyone else a lot sooner!”

“Jack, how much of your emotional stress did you load off on her? Because it’s starting to sound like you caused all of this,” the two boys hadn’t noticed their baby brother had entered the room until he spoke, more shocked to hear him speaking full sentences than to see him standing there.

“I didn’t cause anything. They’re the ones who have been lying to everyone.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, bud,” Quinn was done with the conversation at that point, heading upstairs and straight to his ex-girlfriend’s room, trying to figure out where she might have gone.

“You need to get a grip, Jack. They were happy. There’s nothing to be mad about,” Luke begins to walk off before Jack chimes in once more. 

“I thought you were mad too? What happened to that?”

“I actually took the time to think through things. I realized that the only reason I felt a little betrayed was because I felt left out. She usually tells me everything, so it shocked me. But she had her reasons for not telling me, and I have to accept that. Maybe try using that brain of yours or whatever’s left of it.” He left Jack to sit in his thoughts, quietly joining Quinn in your room. The boys silently shared the space, knowing they were on the same side now.

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry

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[welcometoyunosworld]

A connection

𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐢-𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐠 / 𝐆-𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍

𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗼 / 𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁: 𝘍𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘓𝘌! 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘒𝘱𝘰𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘎-𝘋𝘙𝘈𝘎𝘖𝘕 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘔𝘜𝘚𝘐𝘊, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘭, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘚𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘑𝘪-𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴

𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚: 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 💋

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Being a famous singer and song writer wasn't just about fame or money, your love and passion for those inspired you to make music, the type of music that people can relate to, can vibe to and would absolutely love. You find ways to express your emotions in other ways. Making music, your fashion and your art. You really seek for something, anything, yet you still don't know what you really want.

When you were just a little girl, you'd be on and on about beung famous and rich, about how you'll be the star of the show. Now you're here, in your studio, staring at the blank screen of the computer in front of you as your mind won't leave you alone about your longing for that thing even you don't know. Grabbing a pencil and you sit up straight then began to write, making sure to find the right words or not. Trying to express that feeling of emptiness, feeling of being.. not enough. You feel empty, alone and.. sad.

You had many unreleased songs, most of them were songs about your struggles, pain and loneliness. You didn't plan to release them anytime soon.

You sighed and folded the paper and shoved it in the drawer before you left to get ready for your interview for today. You've been going viral again after one of your old songs started to go viral because it was used for an Edit Video of this one Kpop Idol that you were familiar with. After checking it out, you can't help but smile a bit, G-DRAGON, aka Kwon Ji-yong. Oh he was cute alright. And after that, you were listening to POWER by G-DRAGON on repeat while you were getting ready.

As you finished quickly, you made it just in time. It was bigger than you thought. The room was big, furnitures in the center and a coffee table in front, it was pretty simple, just the room size got you wondering why they need such a big ass room. But still, as your name was announced, you walked into view of the camera with your best smile and greeted the host with a polite smile.

“So Ms. Y/n, what are your thoughts about your old song that's been going viral again even though that song was years ago?” You hummed and took a good moment to think about your answer. “I am really happy that people are liking my old songs too, it brings me great gratitude to all my fans. I don't mind if they would like some or all my old songs, all that matters is that they do enjoy listening to the songs.” You replied with a smile as the host nods and nodded in respect.

“Ah what about the famous edit that blew up? Using your song for the Kpop idol G-DRAGON.” You raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “I love it. The edit it amazing, my song definitely fits the Dragon himself. Very cute if you'd ask me. I had to watch it a few more times because my goodness this is the cutest man I've seen in ages.” You said with confidence and your honesty, you really found him cute, especially the edit.

“Ah so then, your thoughts about G-DRAGON and his music?” You had to take a deep breath, oh you were definitely gonna give them your 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘁 thoughts.

“I think G-Dragon is very cute, i absolutely enjoy his music. It's just amazing! I just learned more stuff about him after i saw that edit of him. And he definitely ate and left no crumbs for not even hesitating to diss someone or something. His music gets me hyped and motivated, and when i see his cute face i just close my eyes and thank god that i find a REAL man out here. And oh the way he raps, god save me, i wanna hear more of his songs old or new, whatever. G-DRAGON, the living legend, ICON!” The host bust out laughing at the way you describe your answer, but he was satisfied with it and so are you.

At the near end of your interview, it was the last question..

“𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝗚-𝗗𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻?”

You nodded with a snap of your fingers. “Yessir, absolutely. I would LOVE to see this man.” You said as you smiled happily though you'd doubt you'd be able to actually meet THE G-Dragon here, but a small part of you wished you would meet him, because you're already becoming a big fan of him, Hell, you wished you knew him sooner!!

“𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗯𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆, 𝗠𝘀. 𝗟/𝗻.”

Your eyes widened as you saw the familiar red hair and head scarf of THE living legend himself. He couldn't help but chuckle at your adorable reaction. “OH MY HEAVENS-” You ran up to him, but you didn't hug him. Oh not yet, you simply stood there, just admiring him which made him chuckle and give you his signature sweet smile. “Oh he's even cuter in person, is this heaven?” That only made him laugh softly and gently pat your head. “You are very gorgeous.” He said softly and he opens his arms for you, to which you gladly hugged him.

That interaction between you and Ji-yong left your fans and his fans in absolute shock. The moment was wholesome and very heartwarming. It was a moment you would never forget, especially when you even saved that photo of you two hugging. Ji-yong, too, couldn't help but keep the photo too, even printing it out and have it somewhere in his stuido. And each time he'd look at it, he can't help but smile softly, missing the warmth of your embrace, the angelic sound of your voice, the excitement and happiness he hears in your voice when you saw him.

After some days, you eventually found his Instagram, and liked his recent posts, even his stories too. You just can't help but miss him, you two didn't even have a proper talk in that interview because he showed up at the END of the interview. You find yourself smiling and giggling when you received a notification that Ji-yong liked some of your posts too.

It started off like that, just showing each other your support and love for music, until it turns into texting each other daily, until it turns into having calls here and there. It's been a long time already, nearly two months, you don't even know, you were just feeling so much more better. After one of his tours, you gave him a surprise visit at the dressing room while he was getting his hair styled. And before he went out, he gently placed a kiss on the back of your hand and said..

“𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘪 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺, 7𝘱𝘮?”

You couldn't even speak, but you managed to whisper a small “Yes..” and he smiled softly at you, feeling so happy.

You don't even feel that lonely anymore after meeting Ji-yong, that emptiness in you, was slowly going away, replaced with the fast beating of your heart when you were waiting for Ji-yong to pick you up, it took about five minutes or so. He arrived in that shiny car and he rolled down the window, he gave you a little smirk. “What a lovely view.” He said before he got out and led you to the door, opening it for you and even helping you get in carefully.

𝘿𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙣.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Aaaaaaa thank you!! Hope you like this one Baes!💋

[pankowcrumbs]

Chaos X Drew Starkey (Requested)

I woke up with a sharp, insistent pain in my lower abdomen, one that was impossible to ignore. Groaning, I shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, but the ache only deepened. A flash of panic ran through me as I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—4:32 a.m. It was far too early for this, literally. Three weeks too early.

“Drew,” I whispered, poking his shoulder.

He didn’t stir.

“Drew,” I said louder, my voice tinged with urgency.

He bolted upright like he’d been shot out of a cannon, his hair sticking out in every direction. “What? What happened? Is it burglars?”

“No, Drew, it’s me! I think I’m in labour.”

That woke him up completely. His eyes widened as he scrambled out of bed, tripping over his own feet. “Wait, labour? Like, baby labour? Already? You’re not supposed to—okay, okay, I’m calm.”

“You don’t look calm,” I said through gritted teeth as another contraction hit me like a freight train.

“I’ve got this! I’m prepared! The bag—where’s the hospital bag?” He darted around the room like a headless chicken, pulling open drawers and muttering to himself.

“It’s in the hallway cupboard,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the building pressure.

“Right, right. Hallway cupboard.” He rushed out of the bedroom, only to come back empty-handed a moment later. “What does it look like again?”

“Drew!” I snapped, clutching the bedsheet as another wave of pain rolled through me.

“Sorry, sorry! Stay calm—uh, you stay calm. I’ll be calm too,” he said, vanishing into the hallway again.

When he finally returned with the hospital bag, he was out of breath. “Okay, bag secured. Now what? Breathing! You need to breathe! Like this—heee-hooo, heee-hooo.” He started demonstrating exaggerated breaths, waving his arms like he was conducting an orchestra.

I couldn’t help but laugh, even through the pain. “Drew, you look ridiculous.”

“But is it helping?” he asked earnestly, still doing the breathing.

“Not really,” I admitted, trying to focus on my own rhythm.

He nodded, clearly disappointed in his technique. “Alright, new plan. Do you want ice? Or, or… a smoothie? I can make a smoothie!”

“A smoothie? Drew, I’m in labour, not at brunch!”

“Right. No smoothie. Got it.” He looked around the room like he expected it to offer him advice. “What about snacks? You need energy, babe. I read that somewhere. Energy is key!”

He dashed to the kitchen, returning moments later with a granola bar, a banana, and, inexplicably, a jar of pickles.

“Pickles, Drew?”

“I panicked!” he said, setting them down on the nightstand.

“Just... sit with me,” I pleaded, reaching for his hand.

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, taking my hand in both of his. “I’m here. I’m so here. You and me, babe. We’ve got this.”

For a moment, his earnestness grounded me. I squeezed his hand, grateful for his presence, chaotic as it was.

And then, because he just couldn’t help himself, he added, “You know, technically, this means our baby’s super punctual. Takes after me.”

“Drew,” I groaned, though I couldn’t stop a small laugh from escaping.

“What? Humour helps, right? Laughter is the best medicine and all that.”

“Not when I feel like my insides are being ripped apart.”

“Fair point.” He winced sympathetically. “Okay, no more jokes. Just focus on me. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

I tried to follow his lead, but the next contraction hit with such intensity that I doubled over, clutching my stomach.

“Alright, that’s it, we’re going to the hospital. No more waiting!” He jumped to his feet, grabbing the bag and helping me to stand.

“Drew, I don’t think I can walk right now,” I said, leaning heavily on him.

“Then I’ll carry you!”

“You’re not carrying me, Drew.”

“But it would be so romantic!”

“No.”

Reluctantly, he helped me shuffle toward the door, his arm wrapped securely around my waist. Once we were in the car, the chaos continued.

“Do you need music? Something soothing? Or maybe motivational—like Beyoncé? Wait, no, you hate my playlists when you’re stressed.”

“Drew, just drive!”

“Right, driving, got it.” He started the car and immediately cranked the wipers instead of the engine. “Okay, minor hiccup. We’re good.”

As we sped toward the hospital, he kept glancing over at me. “You’re doing amazing, babe. So strong. Like, superhero strong. Wonder Woman’s got nothing on you.”

“Drew,” I said, half-laughing, half-crying. “You’re stressing me out.”

“Sorry! I’ll stop talking.”

He lasted all of ten seconds.

“Do you think the baby will have your eyes or mine?”

“Drew!”

“Stopping now. For real.”

By the time we reached the hospital, I was practically crawling out of the car. Drew, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of movement, grabbing the bag, helping me out, and shouting at the nearest nurse like we were in the middle of an action movie.

“She’s having a baby! Right now! Three weeks early! This is an emergency, right?”

The nurse, clearly used to panicked dads-to-be, calmly led us to a room. Drew hovered at my side the entire time, alternating between holding my hand, stroking my hair, and offering increasingly bizarre suggestions.

“Do you want to try squatting? I read squatting helps.”

“Drew, I’m hooked up to monitors.”

“Right, no squatting. Maybe a stress ball? Should I go get one?”

“Drew, sit down.”

He sat. For all of two seconds.

“Do you think the baby will like sports? Or maybe art? What if they’re a genius? I mean, they’re definitely going to be cute—look at us.”

“Drew,” I said, exasperated.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just so excited. And terrified. Mostly excited.”

As the labour progressed and the pain intensified, his antics became both more endearing and more absurd. At one point, he tried to distract me by performing a dramatic reenactment of our first date, complete with exaggerated impressions of me.

“You said, ‘Drew, I’ll have the salad,’ but I could tell you wanted the burger. You always want the burger.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” I muttered, gripping the bed rail as another contraction hit.

“And I love you, babe. So much. You’re amazing. Incredible. The absolute best. And hey, you’re almost there!”

“How do you know?” I asked, glaring at him through the pain.

“Because you’re a champ, and champs finish strong!”

Despite myself, I laughed. He was ridiculous, but he was my ridiculous, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hours later, after what felt like an eternity, our baby was finally born. Drew’s eyes filled with tears as he held her for the first time, his earlier chaos replaced with awe.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, looking at me like I’d just performed a miracle.

“You’re perfect,” I said softly, reaching for his hand.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We’re a team, babe. Chaos and all.”

And in that moment, I knew that no matter how wild and unpredictable life got, we’d face it together—with laughter, love, and maybe a jar of pickles.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 60

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,660ish

Summary: Life continues to move along, as does Logan's feelings.

Notes: Things are moving along! Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

“So, where are you thinking of applying?” You asked Laura as the two of you got ready to bed.

“Columbia and NYU,” Laura admitted, though you could hear her hesitation.

“Those aren’t far.”

“Well, I’m not willing to go far.”

“Laura—“

“No, mom. I want to go to college so I will, but I will not be going too far from you.”

Your heart swelled with pride. Yes, you hated that you felt like you were holding Laura back, but you were so proud of the woman she was becoming.

“I’m also thinking of getting a job,” Laura continued. “I don’t want all of my tuition to be on you.”

“I don’t mind, kiddo,” you told her. “You’re my daughter and I’m here to help. If you want me to be able to let you help me, you have to do the same.”

“Okay.”

You pulled her in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, mom… I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

You kissed her temple as you pulled away. “Wanna have a slumber party tonight? Whip out a movie?”

“I’d love to. I’ll get the popcorn started.”

“And I’ll get the bed together.”

~~~

Logan had never been this nervous before, but for some reason he kept checking to make sure he looked presentable as he headed for your work. It was Logan’s turn to walk you home and he hadn’t gotten a chance to since he had started feeling different or enhanced emotions towards you. He didn’t know what these feelings meant or how to even handle them. He’d never felt emotions like these before, even with his original you.

With his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, Logan made his way down the street with a long stride. He wanted to get to the bar before it closed to help you clean up. You had been taking better care of yourself as well as letting others help you, no matter how hard it was for you. But Logan could still see the pain shining behind your eyes and he would do what he could to help.

When he entered the bar, Logan’s eyes immediately found you standing behind the counter. Though you were worn out from a long night of work, Logan felt like his breath was taken away at the sight of you. That had been happening more and more lately, how he found you gorgeous in every situation. Logan finally got his feet moving again, heading straight for you.

“Hey, doll,” he greeted, slipping into a stool in front of you.

“Logan,” you smiled at him. “You’re early.”

“Wanted to give you a hand in closing.”

You shook your head. “You don’t need to. I can do it.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

Your chest tightened at the idea that Logan just wanted to help you. It wasn’t something new. He had done that basically since the day you met, but you would never get used to it. Especially after the years you had spent talking care of everyone else. Not that you minded taking care of others, it was just different to remember how to let others help you.

“What can I help you with?” He asked.

“Uh, I guess, uh, can you grab a rag and wipe down the empty tables?”

“Of course.”

“They’re back here and there’s cleaner with them.”

“Okay.” 

Logan slipped off the stool and quickly got to work. You finished up helping the last few customers, closing out their tabs, and then locking the door and turning off the open sign. 

“Do the chairs and stools need to be stacked?” Logan asked, wiping them down as well as he moved from table to table.

“Yeah, on the tables and bar,” you replied.

Logan nodded and began putting the stools and chairs up. You focused on closing out the register and doing the dishes while Logan finished wiping everything down, sweeping, and mopping. Your closing duties were done in half the time, which you were grateful for.

“Thank you for helping me,” you told Logan as the two of you headed back to the apartments.

“Anytime, doll,” he answered.

You bit your bottom lip at the term of endearment and focused your attention on the path ahead. “How was work today?”

“Fine,” he shrugged.

“Yeah? Make any friends yet?”

“Don’t need to. Just workin’ on cars.”

“We’ve had this discussion, Logan. Friends are good for you.”

“I have friends, just not at work.”

“Who?”

“Wade.”

You laughed. “I can’t believe that you’re admitting that.”

“Better not find out that you told him.”

“Yeah?” You looked over at him with a hint of mischief. “And what would happen if I told him?”

“I don’t think you want to know, darlin’.”

You hummed. “Well, maybe I’ll just have to tell Wade and see what happens.”

“Try it.”

“Okay.” 

Suddenly, you were running down the street. It took a second for Logan’s mind to catch up with what you were doing. 

“Hey! Wait!” He shouted after you. “Y/N!”

You laughed. “Gotta catch me before I tell Deadpool that Wolverine thinks they’re friends!”

Logan was able to catch up with you quickly, hooking his arms around you and pulling you back into him. Both of you were laughing in front of the apartment building as Logan held you close to him.

“Got you,” he chuckled, his lips brushing against your ear.

The close proximity had you catching your breath. Your laughter slowly faded as you tried to recall the last time you laughed and felt relaxed the way you just did. It had been far too long.

“You alright?” Logan noticed the shift and reluctantly let you go.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, unwilling to meet his gaze. “I’m fine.”

His brows pinched together as his concern grew. “I don’t believe it, darlin’. Talk to me.”

You sighed, keeping your eyes down. “It’s just… thank you.”

Those were not the words that Logan was expecting to hear. “For what?”

“For taking care of me and Laura. For making me smile and laugh. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this relaxed… like I’m not surviving, but… living. You’ve been a big part in that. And I just need to thank you.”

Logan thought he could melt right there. Everything he had ever done for you was always worth it, but now he felt like it was worth it times a million now. He was actually helping, making a positive difference, and it was for you.

“You’re, uh, welcome,” he mumbled, nervously. “But it’s all really no big deal.”

“It is to me,” you responded.

The two of you stood there, a thick awkward silence falling between you. Neither of you knew what to do or say next. Logan suddenly broke the tension by clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck.

“We should, uh, get home,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” you nodded. You took a step forward and winced.

Logan was quickly at your side, a hand to the small of your back. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Are you hurt?”

“I guess that I shouldn’t have ran like I did. Haven’t done that in a while.”

“So you’re in pain?”

“It’s not bad, Logan. I can— ah!” Logan swept you up into his arms and headed into the apartment complex. “I can walk.”

“Not until we get some medicine in you, darlin’.”

You sighed, allowing yourself to relax against him. It wasn’t worth arguing with him. Logan carried you to your apartment.

“I need you to put me down now, Logan,” you said. “I need to unlock the door and I don’t want to worry Laura.”

“Fine,” he huffed.

Logan set you down but kept a hand on your back. He leaned over and pushed the door open as soon as you unlocked it. Laura was working on the laptop at the kitchen table when the to of you walked in. She had taken to staying up, waiting for you, too. 

“Hey, mom,” she greeted. “Logan. Thanks for getting her home safely.”

“No problem, kid,” he responded with a nod.

“I’m not a child, you know,” you commented, rolling your eyes. “But I am tired.” You turned and set your hand on Logan’s arm, rubbing your thumb against his jacket. “Thanks again, Lo.” You turned and walked to Laura, kissing her head. “Goodnight, kiddo.”

The two watched as you disappeared down the hall and into your bedroom. 

“Do you need anything, kid, before I head out?” Logan wondered.

“I heard the two of you,” she stated quietly.

“What?”

“The window was open. I heard the two of you laughing.” Logan nodded, opting to remain silent to let Laura continue. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh before like that… But… be careful. Don’t hurt her.”

“I’d never do that.”

“That’s what my father said, yet he still did.”

“What do you mean?”

Laura sighed. “Please don’t tell her I said anything… He left her and took Charles when he had his first seizure… Mom told me that he promised that she’d never be homeless like she was before everything. She ended up homeless and alone until she found him again… All I’m asking is for you to not make promises that you can’t keep. Don’t make promises and then walk away. She won’t be able to survive it again.”

Logan was taken by surprise. He clearly didn’t know your whole story, which was fine, but he had put your husband—the other him—on this pedestal. Though it was clear that he had even let you down at one point or another. He wasn’t going to let himself to the same thing.

~~~

“Alright! I’ve got the popcorn!” Wade exclaimed as he plopped down in the chair beside the couch. 

You were already sitting down, curled up with a blanket with Laura on one side of you. Logan walked into the room and noticed that there was an empty spot on the other side of you. He wanted to sit by you but he didn’t know if he should.

“Peanut!” Wade shouted as he reached over and patted the open seat next to you. “Saved you a spot.”

Logan’s eyes flickered your way to see you already looking at him with a soft smile. Tension eased from his shoulders as he walked over and sat beside you. He squished himself into the arm, trying not to overcrowd you.

“I’ve chosen the best movie for tonight!” Wade continued. “It’s a love story. There’s a bit of time travel. And a handsome hunk of a man.”

“What’s the movie?” You giggled at Wade.

“Kate and Leopold.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s probably trash,” Laura commented. “Wade never picks good movies.”

Wade gasped dramatically, hand falling over his heart. “You wound me, Little Wolf! I only choose masterpieces! And you will see that this is no exception.” 

Wade quickly clicked the movie on and flipped the lights off. You glanced over at Logan, noticing that he seemed to be awkwardly pushing himself into the corner. You leaned over.

“I don’t bite,” you whispered.

“What?” Logan’s head snapped to look at you.

“You’re sitting so far away. Relax. I’m not scared of a little touch. Here.” You tugged at his arm and he moved closer to you. Then you untucked the large blanket that was laying on top of you and Laura and laid it on Logan’s lap. “There. All better.”

“Thanks,” Logan muttered.

The four of you fell silent as your focuses fell to the movie. You were enjoying the movie, but you couldn’t help but think that the actor playing Leopold—Hugh Jackman—was cute.

“Hey!” Wade suddenly interrupted. “Don’t you think that that Hugh Jackman guy looks like our Peanut here?”

“Oh my gosh,” you mumbled, eyes widening.

“What?” Logan questioned, confused. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Yeah, okay, he has less hair in this and is definitely skinnier, but the two of you could be twins!” Wade continued.

“I’m sorry, Lo,” you said, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m afraid Wade is right.”

“See!”

“Whatever,” Logan scoffed. “Just watch the movie.”

The movie continued with Wade’s comments here and there. Your eyes began to grow tired and your bead began to bob. Logan noticed. His arm slipped onto the back of the couch as he leaned close to your ear.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he whispered. “Just relax and fall asleep.”

“I’m not tired,” you mumbled, words slurring.

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle quietly. “Bullshit. Just lean back and fall asleep.”

After a moment, you nodded and allowed yourself to lean against Logan. It didn’t take long before you were sound asleep against him. Logan kept his arm along the back of the couch until your body began slipping and he quickly wrapped his arm around you to keep you still. You needed your sleep, Logan knew that, and he wasn’t going to allow anything to get in your way.

You slept through the rest of the movie, snuggled into Logan’s side. When the movie ended, Laura got up and moved to stand in front of you.

“I can take her,” Laura offered quietly.

“I got it,” Logan responded. He carefully maneuvered you into his arms and stood up. Laura led the way as Logan carried you to bed. He tucked you in and pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well, doll.” 

Logan walked out, wishing Laura goodnight, and headed for the roof. He lit a cigar and let it sit between his lips. It was beginning to dawn on him that the emotions he was feeling and the thoughts he was having meant that his feelings for you were growing more romantically. Logan didn’t want to push you into something, especially as it was clear that you were still dealing with the love and loss of your husband. Your wedding ring never left your finger and the dog tags rarely left your neck. He also hated the idea of losing your friendship. The two of you were finding something new in your friendship and Logan was enjoying it. 

Despite whatever may come of Logan’s emotions, he knew one thing for sure. Logan wasn’t going to walk away from what he found here with you, Laura, and Wade.

~~~

Logan was tired as he trudged into the apartment after work the next day. When he opened the apartment, Logan found Wade preparing his weapons as he stood in the center of the room with his Deadpool suit on.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan asked.

“I have a possible lead on something that could help our Little Flame,” Wade stated, focusing on his task to prepare his weapons.

“What? And you were just gonna leave?”

“Awe, so glad to know that you’d miss me, Peanut. But I did leave a wonderful note on your pillow with a few pictures of me just in case.”

“Wilson. What did you find?”

“Nope, my lips are sealed.” He pretended to zip up his lips and throw away the key. 

“Well then just wait and I’ll go with you.”

“No can do, Peanut. You need to stay with Little Wolf and Buttercup. They need to be watched over in my absence and you, though you are not that qualified, are the only one I trust.”

“Fine. Can you at least tell me what you’re chasing after?”

“You can’t get their hopes up. But I’ve been doing some digging and I’m going back to the TVA. There are more Y/N’s out there and at least one of them has to have dealt with a similar issue. I’m gong to do my research and see what can be done.”

“Wow… that plan’s not terrible.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, Peanut.”

“Keep me in the loop.”

“I will try. And don’t let our Mama and Daughter Duo get into too much trouble. I won’t be long.”

“Good luck, Wade.”

next chapter >

[peachyprophets-blog]

DROWNED LOVE, LET ME SEE YOU AGAIN (Finale)

Epic x Reader

CW: Yandere themes, attempted suicide (only mentioned), death of the main character, PLOOOOT

Description: you have forgotten your past with Odysseus and Penelope, but you still have an empty place in your heart. You have tried several times to throw yourself off the mountain and find peace. And when Odysseus wakes up on Calypso's island, a sudden thunderclap sounds that briefly shakes the world...

AN: This is the last part of this story, how do you like the plot? I hope you liked this fanfiction, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Part 6 Wake up!

PREV

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Emptiness filled you when you were torn from your dream. The dream was a paradise for you, you felt free again after such a long time. Free from the gods, free from the pain, free from the emptiness in your soul and your heart. But the dream shattered when delicate hands glided over your sleeping form and shook you awake. When you opened your eyes you looked into the face of the beautiful Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. "Oh my darling, you don't have to sleep out here," her voice rang out, filled with concern. With her help you slowly got up and yawned quietly, mourning your dream. But as soon as you realized where you were, the emptiness filled you again. It locked you in a loneliness that no god in the world could have filled. Aphrodite took you into the great hall, you were like a doll that only moved when someone pulled you behind her. Aphrodite didn't let go of your hand either, it had always been like this ever since you tried several times to throw yourself off the mountain. A god always had a hand on you, whether they held your hand, put an arm around your shoulder or waist, or carried you in their arms. Aphrodite pulled you next to her, and so the days passed in which you lived like a doll.

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Reader POV:

I sat at the window of the temple of Athena, the goddess who still treated me as a human. She was my favorite of all because she didn't force herself on me, I waited for her because she was visiting a mortal. When she came back there was a thoughtful expression on her face, as if something was bothering her. "Lady Athena?" I began, "What are you thinking about?" I completed my question. When she looked at me her gaze softened and a slight smile graced her lips before she answered me. "You know, I once had a boyfriend but we parted ways years ago," her voice rang out, she sounded so serious. "But now I know that I have to make it right again." She said seriously. I nodded at her, she told me about her plan to convince her father Zeus to release her friend. I was slowly becoming curious who this friend was, but she didn't really answer that question. I listened carefully to Athena's plans to convince Zeus. Once she mentioned the name of the friend she wanted to save, but the name sounded unfamiliar to me and I can't remember what it was. "I really hope you can free your friend, Lady Athena." I smiled gently at the goddess of wisdom, I felt most comfortable and understood around her. But she still couldn't fill the void, I knew that she was trying too and that made me feel very guilty towards her.

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On Ithaca the sun was high in the sky, suitors gathered in the halls of the palace and craved the attention of the queen: Penelope. Penelope had now waited 16 years for her husband Odysseus and her future wife (Y/N). She missed them both from the bottom of her heart but also had to be there for her people and her son. The Queen of Ithaca knew that something was wrong because her memories of (Y/N) were also blurry. It was as if something, or rather someone, was trying to destroy the connection the three had with each other. Penelope sat at her loom and continued weaving the picture she was working on and thought about the past but could only remember the time with Odysseus and slowly the memories of the young woman she and Odysseus once loved disappeared completely. Telemachus, who was standing in the large garden of the palace, stared at the statue of his father. In his hand he held a small book that was bound in leather. A diary of his father that he had found back then, in it was written everything about the woman who had followed him into the war after Telemachus was born, (Y/N) future wife of Odysseus and Penelope. For a moment, the young prince's eyes glowed gold. "Destroy it." A woman's voice rang out, and Telemachus tried to ignore it again like he had done for the last few months since he had found the book about (Y/N). He wanted to get to know her and love her like his parents did, but this person was against it.

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??? POV:

I had to prevent her existence from being passed on, and the little prince didn't make it easy. I had already robbed Penelope and Odysseus of their memories of her. And I was responsible for her forgetting her previous life. Now I just had to convince the Prince of Ithaca and everything would go according to plan. My golden eyes took over the prince's again and I finally had full control over the boy. As Telemachus I walked through the halls, ignoring his mother's suitors because I had to destroy this book. I came to a carmine and threw the book in there where I watched as it was destroyed in the fire, this filled me with satisfaction. "Telemachus, what are you doing?" I turned around in shock and saw his mother, the Queen of Ithaca, standing in front of me, looking questioningly into the fire. "Nothing mother, I'm just burning your suitors' letters." I answered and she nodded before stroking his head lovingly. "Thank you, Nyx," she said before turning away and disappearing back into her room. Shortly afterwards I left the boy's body and made my way to Hades, who asked me to do all this.

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The light shone brightly on the Queen of the Gods Hera. "Never once had he cheated on his wife," Athena's voice rang out. Hera, who immediately recognized that Athena was telling the truth, looked angrily at her husband. "Release him," her words sounded sharp and were aimed directly at Zeus. Zeus, who had been sitting completely relaxed on his throne until now, twitched his eyebrows. Had Athena tried to embarrass him? She shouldn't get away with that, she wants a fight? She'll get it. The clouds closed in before it started to thunder and flash loudly. When you saw the storm, you just stared up at the sky.

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Y/N POV

It was strange, my whole body started to shake but not out of fear. Poseidon, who was sitting next to me, put an arm around me to calm me down, but it didn't work. And slowly they came back, memories that had disappeared. Absolutely everything came back into my head like a wave and I stood up before I stared angrily at Poseidon, "You killed 558 men, you monster." I accused him. But before he could answer, my legs started running. I knew that I would never be able to escape from here and that there was only one chance. I could only escape from eternal imprisonment if I...

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Everything suddenly fell silent when a loud thunder shook the world. Odysseus, who had already been imprisoned on Calypso's island for seven years, raised his head when he heard that. Athena, who was supposed to be struck by lightning, stared in horror at your figure that had been struck by lightning. The world stopped turning and everything seemed bright to you. Your body felt an endless pain that didn't last long. The gods rushed towards you and Apollo was the first to reach you, lifted you in his arms and tried to heal you, but as soon as he put his hand on your body, it shattered into a thousand pieces that slowly dissolved into nothing. Your existence had been wiped out, at least for the moment. At the same time in the underworld, Hades sat on his throne, he could observe everything that happened on Olympus. He knew that the gods were beside themselves with anger and grief, but that was the only way he could save you. He had found out about you early on through his wife Persephone and felt sorry for you, so he had sent Nyx with the task of wiping out your existence. But he knew that now you would be able to live a life without all the pain.

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Y/N POV

I tried to open my eyes, everything was so quiet that it was already too loud for me. Every now and then I saw old, long-forgotten memories, my parents, Odysseus, Penelope, the war and more. Then I suddenly felt a warmth shining on my face and a loud noise. "What...?" I said in a scratchy voice before slowly opening my eyes.

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The morning sun was shining in the sky and filling the room of the girl with the (H/C) hair with golden light. When she opened her (E/C) eyes she found herself in her room again. She sat up sleepily and rubbed the sleep from her eyes that was still blinding her perception. When she forced herself to get up to turn off the alarm, she let her gaze wander out the window. It was a beautiful spring day and the sun was shining pleasantly on her face. She let this moment sink in and relaxed completely. The young woman went through the day she had planned in her head. When she opened her eyes she started to get ready, she put on a white long-sleeved blouse and simple black high-waisted jeans. She looked over at a shelf where her jewelry was, she took a gold chain with a sun pendant from the shelf. She had had this chain since she was born, it was tradition in the family that every member receives such a chain as a gift after birth. She also decorated her fingers with gold rings. After putting on matching sneakers the young woman looked in the mirror and nodded contentedly, in the mirror she looked at her desk and remembered that she had to slowly make her way to university. As she went to the desk she looked at a book, it was the Odyssey which they were currently discussing at university. The young woman loved history in every respect, but the Odyssey in particular had won her heart even if it seemed to her as if something was missing from it. Like a person who was never mentioned or was intentionally removed? As the young woman was packing her bag she stared at a fruit that had not been on the table yesterday, a pomegranate….

-Peachyprophet

TAG LIST:

@doodle-with-rhy

[private-vampire]

I binged the last two days. I feel like such a failure. I can barely stand to write this down because it feels like admitting I'm every awful thing I already think about myself. Every time I tell myself, This is it. This is the last time, I end up here again-bloated, ashamed, disgusted with myself. I keep trying to claw my way out of this pit, but I just sink deeper. And what kills me the most is how I can't seem to stop. I don't even know if I ever will. My family doesn't make it any easier. They don't get it-they probably never will. They buy sweets all the time, like they're stocking up for some party that never ends. Chocolates, cakes, candy, pastries-it's like they're deliberately stacking temptation in front of me. I don't know if they're trying to sabotage me or if they're just that blind to how much I'm struggling. They see me eating it, over and over, but they don't say anything. Or worse, they laugh it off, like it's just me being me, like it's funny or harmless. They don't see me afterward. They don't see me sitting alone in my room, hating myself with every fiber of my being.And it's not even enjoyable anymore. The first bite might taste good, but after that, it's just this mindless blur of chewing and swallowing while my brain screams at me to stop. My stomach cramps, my chest tightens, and I can feel the nausea creeping in, but I keep going anyway, stuffing myself with things that make me feel physically sick. It's disgusting, and I know it, but I can't stop. It's like some part of me wants to keep hurting myself, like I deserve to feel this sick. Like I deserve to carry this shame. Afterward, I feel so bloated I can't even stand up straight. I feel like my body is rebelling against me, and honestly, I don't blame it. I look in the mirror, and I want to scream. I hate my face, my arms, my stomach. I hate the way my clothes cling to me. I want to rip them off, to rip my skin off, to escape from this body that feels more like a prison than anything else. I tell myself I'll fix it. I'll fix me. But I can't even go a single day without ruining everything.I want to be thin. Not just thin-I want to be so thin that everyone notices. I want them to see me and know, without me saying a word, that I'm not okay. That I'm sick. That I'm trying. I want to look so hollow and empty that people understand how much pain I'm in, because it feels like no one sees it right now. I want to be a walking cry for help. But instead, I'm this- this weak, disgusting mess who keeps shoveling food into her mouth and then hating herself for it. I don't know how to break out of this. I don't know how to stop failing. All I feel is this crushing shame and exhaustion, like I've been running in circles for so long that I don't even remember where I started. I don't remember what it's like to feel okay. I'm just so tired of feeling like this-so tired of being me. But I don't know how to be anything else. I don't know how to fix this, and I don't know if I ever will

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

I Wish You Knew…

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the tag list

You sat on the dull bed. Awaiting nightfall to come. You hadn’t eaten, the games made you so distraught you couldn’t bother to work up an appetite.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Young il asks you. Breaking you from your dead stare.

“I hate this place. I wanna go home” you look up at him with big, teary eyes.

“Baby girl” he said sweetly, sitting at your side. “It’s gonna be okay” he wrapped you in a hug.

“It’s not okay!” You cried loudly. “I’m stuck here. I hate it, there’s nothing here for me. I don’t even want the stupid money”

“Im here.” He says calmly. His heart took a hit, you said there was ‘nothing’ here, what was he then? Nothing? Or was he the exception? He ruled it as you were just emotionally distressed.

“Well, yeah. You. But nothing else. I miss my bed, I miss home”

“(Y/n)…” he sat pensively, what do I say? He thought. Do I tell her? What if she hates me, I’ll lose her forever… how the fuck do I make this better? Think, In Ho, THINK. He argued with his thought for too long. He sensed your emotions shift.

“Whatever” you say. “I don’t expect you to understand, you’re home anyways” his eyes widened. Did you know my secret? What do you mean “I’m home anyways” ? (Y/n) what the fuck do you know.

“(Y/n), I feel the same as you. I just don’t know what to say to make you feel better.” Young il replied. “I just don’t know -“

“You don’t know what to say. Yeah, I know. Same as every boyfriend I’ve had before” you roll your eyes gingerly as you lay back. Your stomach growling loudly.

“Pretty girl, have you eaten at all?”

“No. I’m not hungry” you turn away from him. “I just want to go home” he sighs, standing up and walking into the food line. He awaited his turn, peeking over his shoulder to check on you. He felt miserable… maybe getting you out was a good idea… you’re not eating, who knows if you’re really sleeping.

“Hey, can I get two of each, please? One of the other players… she isn’t strong enough to stand on her own and she needs to eat.” Young il spoke in a low voice. The masked men bowed quickly and handed him 2 of each item.

When Young il returned you were still in the same position he left you in. Your eyes puffy and red. He looked sadly upon you. Oh (y/n), I wish you knew��� he thought to himself. I wish you knew the things I really did.

“Here baby” he passed you water. “You need to drink something, you need strength for the next game” you pushed his hand away.

“I don’t want it.” His shoulders tensed in annoyance.

“If you don’t sit up and drink something water, right this minute, I swear I’m gonna IV your ass and MAKE you drink water” he said sternly. You sat up. Your eyes bloodshot. You took the bottle from his hand, squinting your eyes at him as you did so.

God definitely sent you down as punishment. You were his girl, but you were a pain in his ass since he took you in. A lonely girl, who didn’t have a team. The 6 legged race was stressful, though you saved them time with your amazing gong gi skills as Dae Ho took on Ddajki.

“Now take a bite” he held out a spoon for you. You turned your head. “(Y/n), stop acting like a decrepit child and eat. You will die if you have no strength” he said pressingly.

“Fine.” You snatched the contain out of his hand. Scarfing down your food like you were never going to see it again. You glared at him as you handed the empty tin back to him. “I’m laying down now”

“(Y/n)” Young il said gently. He laid down next to you, his food forgotten on the floor. He held you in his arms. Stroking your hair gently. “I love you” he said.

“I love you too” you sighed gingerly.

Time skip: the middle of the night

“(Y/n)” young il shook you. “(Y/n), wake up”

“Hm- what?” You say tiredly rubbing your eyes.

“Come on, you’re going home.” He said. You stood up and followed as he led you out of the door. “Listen, you’re gonna go home and you’re gonna wait for me” Young il told you.

“How will you find me?” You ask as a pink man grabbed you.

“I will, I promise” young il said as you were being taken away.

“Wait! Young il!” You shouted frantically. “I said “fucking wait”” you punched the guard, forcing him to let you go. You ran to Young il. Jumping into his arms. You kissed him passionately, a tear falling from your eye. “You better get out of here alive.”

“I will. I promise you, I’ll meet you on the outside.” He said, kissing you back. Laying kisses all over your face.

“Meet me at 111 Dokseodang-ro Yongsan-gu, Seoul 04419.” You tell him. “Apartment 206”

“111 Dokseodang-ro Yongsan-gu Seoul 04419. Apartment 206” he repeated. “Got it. I’ll see you in a week at most” he kissed you one final time before letting you go. He smacked your ass as you turned to walk away.

“I love you” you shouted to him from down the hall.

“I love you more (y/n)” he shouted back. “I love you more than anything” he said quietly watching you turn the corner.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[moonkoiluv]

Moth!Bill Cipher x Ford Pines

Small drabble I guess cause I really really love what people have come up with for art 💛

TW: Death, not graphic but sad

Bill Cipher was reincarnated as a euclidia moth and doomed to live such a short life, only a few weeks. His whole life is spent near the old shack hoping to catch a glimpse of Ford.

But little does he know that the shack that once stood as the only protection against his chaos, stood as a symbol, housed the saviors of this realm, was now only a shell of what it used to be. Now it is merely a tourist trap, handed down to Soos and his family as the two Pines brothers made due on their promise and explored the world.

The small moth would flutter around the shack, looking for anyone familiar. Even the younger twins but they too are gone. Off on their own adventures. He would often look through the triangular window into the younger twins room, hoping to see a stray piece of ribbon or a chewed up pen. Something, anything to show that he wasn't alone, wasn't forgotten. But there was nothing. Just two empty stripped beds and dust collecting on the floor boards.

Eventually he started to get tired, his small body aging faster than he could handle. He wasn't scared to die, he already had before. All he wished was to see Ford one last time. His partner in science, the one who truly made him feel.

As the little moth lay on the steps to the shell of a shack, looking out at the sunrise he thought back to his life before. With Ford. Their meeting, being inside his head, working together, spending countless hours on Bills plan but spending countless more creating a human body to please the other man. Countless hours after that spent exploring the vast emotions of a human. The human body being held by the other as he recounts what happened to his home, how he destroyed it all. But Ford still stayed, he knew and he still stayed. Then the memories flashed forward to Bill betraying Ford, hurting him for his own selfish gain. All he wanted was his family back, to make right of his wrongs but in doing so he hurt maybe the only man who ever cared for him so deeply.

So here he lays, on the front step with the rising sun warm on his wings. He lays waiting to see the one man who truly cared for him. One last time. The shining sun was so so bright it was a blinding white. Here he lays, closing his eyes again for the last time, wishing he could see Ford just one last time.

°. •. ∆ .• .°

The Pines brothers returned to the shack just a bit past sunrise, ready to clean up the shack and host for the younger twins again. It had been a long time since the Pines inhabited the Mystery Shack, but this summer marked 5 years since the events of Weirdmagedden and they wanted to celebrate with a summer back where it all started.

Stan was grumbling about the pains in his joints and the brightness of the morning sun. It had been a long night for them both, docking the boat and the process of a car rental took far longer than either would like to admit. Ford chuckled to himself and listened to his brother, his mind elsewhere.

While Stan was grumbling away Fords mind was on Bill. It always was these days. Ever since Weirdmagedden that triangle and his stupid top hat hasn't left his mind. Though the triangle wasn't what showed up in his mind. When Fords thoughts drifted to Bill he could picture his face oh so clearly. The squint of his one eye, the dimple in his cheeks accompanied by the echoed sound of his laughter. Ford had seen another side to Bill that none of the other Pines got to see. He cared for Bill. After spending long nights together, bearing their hearts to each other how could he not? Bill had held him for long nights when all he could think about was how he abandoned his family, his twin. Bill had been the one who was there for him.

He loved Bill. In a strange twisted way. It was no longer the innocent, pure kind of love they had when Bill had first been able to kiss him in his new body. It was different now. A deep longing for who the man used to be. The man he used to be, not the deranged demon who tortured his family. He would never admit to anyone, barely even to himself, but he truly misses Bill, he longs for him.

As the Pines brothers took the steps up to the front door of the shack Ford was snapped out of his thoughts. He only looked down to hopefully avoid any stray nails or a weak board but was instead greeted with the sight of an oddly familiar looking moth. He froze and stared for what seemed like hours. The moth was dead, it had not moved but Ford almost wished it had. Wished it had fluttered around excitedly before showing who it truly was. But that was impossible. The moth was long dead as was Bill. Ford had seen the frozen statue himself, a frequent stop on his hikes through the forest.

Ford was snapped out of his thoughts once again when Stan called his name. He took one last look and went inside.

Later that night as everyone was fast asleep, Ford sat awake at his desk, hunched over his new project and moving delicately. He leaned back to stretch and let out a long sigh. Ford grabbed the object, walked to the corner wall and pulled down an old painting. Behind the painting was a crevice in the wall that contained small trinkets and photos. Photos of a younger Ford and a blonde man with one eye. Trinkets including jewelry, seemingly cursed or strange objects, and two rings. Ford placed the object into the hidden shrine space with a soft delicateness and smiled softly. Now in the center was the moth, pale yellow patterns with an odd eye shaped marking.

"Goodnight Bill."

°. •. ∆ .• .°

[lemonlilactea]

I didn't get around to writing much for silverv weekend so this is all ive got, for the intoxication/regrets prompt

He never really likes to see V get plastered. It reminds him too much of himself at his worst, when drugs and booze made him act out. No, didn’t make him, not exactly, but still. Hell, even though he’s the one who took the body on a joyride what feels like an eternity ago, it's one of many regrets. He wrecked his own body ten times over, V doesn’t deserve the same shit. They deserve better than that, better than him. The more their body breaks down, though, the more they grasp at any and all coping mechanisms, and too often now they’ll down a drink or two before heading to a gig. A few pills for the pain here and there, maybe an extra. Johnny hates it, hates to see the pattern form and knowing he can’t say shit because V will just call him a hypocrite and they’ll be right. He’s a self proclaimed sommelier of illicit substances, and he has no right telling them what to do with their body, while they still have it. The first few cigarettes he was simply grateful, but seeing empty packs on the floor of the apartment, the bloodshot eyes in the mirror? This is absolutely not what he wants, not what he even expected when they first met. They didn’t seem the type to fall into the same shit as him, because they were just…better. Weren’t they?