#and i had no idea what i was getting myself into even

[finallychaoticeffigy]

Yandere murderer x reader

Liking the idea of a 6'6 man holding an axe who is obsessed with you chasing you down the forest

You barely have no memory of meeting him. You just remembered him dropping something and being the nice person you are, you helped him. You could make out the image of the huge man blushing like a tomato as he stuttered the word 'thank you'. You smiled and continued on walking.

Then it all began, the killings. Strange things start happening around you. You lived a pretty normal life in your 19 years of living. So the sequence of events clearly startled you. Your college classmate who insulted you, died. Your aunt who said mean things about you, dead, and many many more people who did you dirty was strangely murdered in some gruesome ways. The police who investigated things told everyone that it was done by the same person.

The rumor about the murders quickly spread like wildfire. Everyone was afraid. Some people don't even want to go out anymore. Everyone...except your friends who probably have nine lives suggested that you all camp in the middle of nowhere.

"What ! Are you crazy!! Boy didn't you all hear about the murders going around?" your friend Sam pointed out

"Pfff... Come on , we're gonna be fine.... It will be a fun experience i promise " Fin said as he dropped an arm around her shoulder as she blushed, clearly flustered

"yeah I'll come too" Alex said nonchalantly clearly unbotherd as he played with his phone

"O-ok fine... Only if Y/n will come" she said and removed Fin's arm around her. Those two clearly liked each other,,, everyone can see with their eyes closed except themselves.

I mentally slapped myself. "Fine" i sigh "But if we felt like something was wrong we'll immediately get the hell out "

"Good... It's settled " Fin again declared as he clapped.

+++++++++-----------+++++++++++-+

It's now evening... You all gathered around the fireplace as you talked about random stuff. It's pretty fun, you admitted.

" Having a great time?" Alex asked as he sat besides you

You nodded and gave him a small smile

"There's only two tents... Two people will obviously have to share " he explained

"It's getting late... Maybe we should all call it a night?" You stood up

"Sam let's share the ten-"

You cut Fin off "Hey... Sam will share it with me, were both girls "

She glared at you "I'll share a tent with Fin , Y/n go share yours with alex ... It's not like it's anything new"

"What does that supposed to mean?"

"Oh come on you're a slut...... It's not like it's a secret" she casually said and took Fin's hand.

You gasped at her words... How dare she? You're a freaking virgin for gods sake. You never even held a guys hand romantically before.

You were about to throw those words out when a man appeared behind them. A very tall man standing about 6'6 raised an axe hitting her neck.

You all froze as her head rolled to the ground. Blood spurted out spraying Fin. Her headless body dropped. He didn't stop. He began to hit her body multiple times .

"HOW .....hit .....DARE... hit ....YOU! " He shouted angrily.

Fin suddenly lunged at him with a metal chair. "YOU ASSHOLE" he hit him but he didn't even budge.

His attention turned to him. He raised the bloody axe he was holding and hit him.

You finally let out a scream . You felt Alex's hands pulling you away as you both ran for your lives.

"W-what was that" you shakingly mumbled, branches hitting you as you ran fast.

"Y/n it is exactly what we saw. Now we need to go to the place where we parked the car and get the hell out of here. "

"Y/n ! Baby come here ! Come back !" You felt shivers as you both turned around and saw him chasing you both.

"Run fast !" Alex said panicking

"No ! Don't touch the hands of my Y/n ! She's mine ! " he growled and you screamed .

"I'll kill you! You bastard! I'll fucking murder you just like your useless friends! "

He suddenly disappeared and you sigh in relief thinking you had lost him.

You both hid under a large tree catching your breath. "Fuck" Alex cursed, you looked at his hands still holding yours, shaking.

"Is it still far? The car? "

"Unfortunately Y/n I don't know anymore... It's too dark . I think we're lost" he said as he pants

You suddenly shrieked as the same axe that had killed your friends flew at Alex hitting him at his chest.

You got up and began running again crying. You're feeling very scared, tired and out of breath. But you don't stop , if you did he'll catch you.

It's too dark and quiet. You suddenly bumped into something. Please let it be a tree. Please. You prayed quietly. Don't let it be him please.

His arms wrapped tightly around you like a snake. You felt him sniff your neck and proceeded to lick you. You can't see his face but you can feel him smiling.

"My Darling Y/n. You're finally mine, Let's live together and forever now....Hmm?" He cooed and licked your face.

He picks you up and begins telling you how much he loves you and adores every little thing about you.

You're tired and you're feeling dizzy. You felt yourself slowly passing out because of exhaustion and at the touch of this monster holding you.

"I love you so much Y/n . You're only mine"

[museofzia]

stop being afraid of your confidence

one of the problems i had when i began reality shifting was that i constantly believed that my confidence of "i'm going to shift tonight" will end in disappointment. however, this didn't just go for self assurance, but also other aspects.

i would spend most of my time researching, not to learn new things, but to reassure myself. i didn't believe in myself or the information i was receiving as well as i wished to.

my completely false narrative that everything has to go one way to work properly was what held me down. instead of making my current mindset and preparing my comfort to move forward, i constantly tried to change, believing that all i need to shift is far from who i actually am and what i have.

idolization

maybe there's that one influencer who posts shifting content that shares information and experiences, and you envy them. heavily. the truth is, no matter how much you try to follow their advice and shift in the way that they do, you'll always be reminded that you don't know them. their intention is likely to help you pick up some different advice and experiment with what you have, but if your immediate instinct is to try to integrate into their routines and headspace instead of employ yours, you're putting in more unnecessary work to adapt a mindset you don't even know the half of. sounds tedious, right?

doubt

doubt can be rooted into past misinformation, unlikelihood, people doubting you, and more. the thing about doubt is, most shifters do almost anything to try their best to get away from it-- the biggest thing is, suppressing it. DO NOT DO THIS. suppressing your feelings will let them grow in an untouched area of your mind; allowing these feelings to nurture and stick to every new piece of information you have will eventually intoxicate the open-wonder you have to new ideas. instead, begin to find out where this doubt lies. is it in yourself? is it in shifting as a whole? if it's in shifting, then begin looking into not only shifting, but relating topics. multiverse travel in buddhism, the multiverse theory, astral projection, quantum theory, quantum immortality, and more. these are not the exact same as shifting, but fall under the same idea of travel between multiverses. these relating explanations and theories will help you put the dots together. if your doubt lies in yourself and what you are capable of, realize that this isn't a situation of moving houses-- you are able to shift anytime and anywhere. you don't need a comfortable bed and 2L of water to shift your awareness. you don't even need a script. it's a matter of assuming and settling in. you are in your desired reality, just as much as you're in this one.

a need for routine

know- you don't *need* a full blown method, meditation, or routine in order to reality shift. you don't need to know exactly how your room will look, how you will look, how your house will look-- it's nice to know these things, but they aren't completely needed. when you take a nap, you automatically assume that you'll wake up in the same space, same reality. you don't think anything of it. assume you're waking up in your desired reality. as you close your eyes, simply acknowledge and regard your desired reality as the reality you're going to be in. think of when you'll wake up, and where. understand the process, there is no almost. the biggest thing is, this reality won't feel new or unfamiliar. because it isn't. you're just as fond of that reality as this one, because you've grown up in there too. that reality is yours.

do not nurture a mindset of common doubt. it won't help you. you deserve to shift just as much as the next person.

you're not special.. you shift too.

Love, Zia

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Good boy gone bad- H.HJ

Today is the equivalent of Valentine's Day in my country and I wrote this funny fluff fic to celebrate. A special thank you to my girl @jehhskz for giving me this incredible idea. I hope you like it 💜 And also have a nice day with your boyfriend Hyunjin 🤭

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: suggestive, supernatural and magical stuff, munch! Hyunjin

Alexa, play Good Boy Gone Bad by TOMORROW X TOGETHER

The lights are low. Not because you're trying to be romantic, but because everything bright, it hurts. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor of your apartment, in yesterday’s hoodie, surrounded by the wreckage of your evening— an empty takeout container, an untouched glass of wine, and the poodle your ex gave you last Valentine’s Day.

Prince.

 Fluffy, white, ridiculously spoiled. And the only one who hasn’t left.

"You're all I got now", you whisper, reaching out to scratch his head

He yawns with that squeaky sound of his, then rolls over, showing you his belly like he knows exactly what comes next. You give in, of course you do, rubbing gentle circles on his stomach until his little paws twitch and he lets out a sigh like he had a long day.

"Don't look at me like that", you murmur, flicking a stray piece of lint from his fur. "It’s not my fault I wasn’t ‘ambitious enough’, you say flatly to no one in particular. Then you glance down at Prince, "That’s what he said”

You scratch behind his ears. He yawns.

"Not passionate about my goals. Not the kind of person he could ‘build a future with’ "

You let out a heavy sigh, "I work. I pay rent. I live… I just didn’t live the way he wanted me to"

Prince snuffles and rolls onto his side, now demanding back 

"He wanted me to quit everything and follow him to Seoul. No plan. No job lined up. Just… pack up and support him. While he ‘figured it out’ "

You look at Prince.

"You, my fluffy bastard, are what he left behind when I said no"

You stroke a hand down his little spine. Prince shivers, sighs, tucks his nose into the crook of your elbow like he knows this is the only kind of affection you’re getting tonight.

"I told him I couldn’t just give up on everything. That I loved him, but I couldn’t abandon myself for him. And he said I already had”

You laugh, bitter, humorless

"And now here I am. Three weeks for Valentine’s day. No plans. No boyfriend”

Prince licks your chin.

"Except you"

You blink down at him, emotionally exhausted.

"My ex dumped me and left me with a poodle who refuses to eat unless I hand feed him roasted chicken breast"

You sigh, whispering into his fur, "At least I have you”

Prince curls deeper into your lap like you were just one. You love how warm he is, how he fits perfectly against you— how he stayed.

You love that it makes you feel a little less alone.

Then, suddenly, your phone starts buzzing

 Incoming call: Quokka 🐿️

You groan but swipe to answer, “What?”

“OK LISTEN, before you hang up…”, Han’s voice explodes out of the speaker, “I may have unlocked the universe of infinity love”

“You bought another cursed item off the internet, didn’t you?”

“I invested, Yn. There’s a difference. This is artisanal craftsmanship with metaphysical properties”

“Oh, like that energy activating incense for ‘better blood flow down there’ you bought on AliExpress last year?”

“Ok, first of all, it had 1.2k reviews and a video testimonial”

“You said it only made it worse. Very legit”

“I was under a lot of stress, so obviously it blocked the energy flow”

“Sure”

“But not this one, Yn. This one, it came with a sparkly handwritten note. In blue glitter glue, so it’s legit”

Prince lifts his head and blinks at your phone. You stroke his back, waiting for what’s coming.

“It’s a love candle! But like, not a regular candle, a summoning candle. Like for attracting hot people”

“You mean… a spell for getting laid?”

“No! I mean like a soulmate magnet. A pheromone booster for your aura. It came from, like, Russia? Or was it Chicago? Well, somewhere magical”

You close your eyes and rub your temple, “Han, are you high again?”

“No, but I did almost pass out from the fumes when I lit it. Also, small detail… the wax made my dog horny. He’s been humping the couch for about fifteen minutes”

You pull the phone away from your ear, consider hanging up, then put it back, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re single, obviously! And miserable! And being held hostage by a demonic stuffed animal with a superiority complex”

You glance down. Prince is licking his paw with complete indifference.

“I think it could work for you”, Han continues, “The candles are colorful. You like colorful things. Mine is shaped like a torso, and I think one of the nipples fell off in shipping but that could be symbolic or whatever”

“I’m hanging up”

“WAIT, LISTEN! Just… light the candle, and picture your ideal man. Like… a nice guy. A hot guy. Someone with a big dick”

“Goodbye, Han”

“THE CANDLE WORKS!!  I lit it last night at 11:11 pm, prime manifesting hour, and boom. This morning? My barista asked for my number”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“I’m not. She said, and I quote: ‘You smell like confidence and testosterone. Can I have your number?’ You know I definitely don't smell like that ”

You glance at the half empty wine bottle on your coffee table, “This is the weirdest call I’ve had in weeks”

He’s grinning through the phone, you can feel it, “You’re welcome. Want me to send you the link?”

“I’m not summoning sex demons for Valentine’s Day, Han”

Han scoffs, “They’re not demons if they’re hot and promise giving you back massages”

“Goodbye, Han”

“Don’t blame me when I’m happily cuddling after sex and you’re still watching Netflix with your dog”

“Enjoy your haunted candle”

“Oh I will. And so will my barista”

And with that, you end the call.

Prince blinks at you. You blink back.

“Don’t you dare turn into a human just to prove him right”

•°. *࿐

Later that night, after you've eaten both your dignity and an entire sleeve of cookies, your phone buzzes with a text from Han.

Quokka 🐿️:

 [Sent you a link]: www.getlitgetlaid.com 

 You're welcome 😉

I lit another candle and now the barista gave me a free muffin   

That’s foreplay, Yn!!

You stare at the link then you stare at Prince. He stares back.

You whisper, “This is stupid”

But you click it anyway.

The site loads with sparkly gifs, pink pop ups, and a massive banner that said:

💘 GET LIT GET LAID— SPARK YOUR SOULMATE 💘 One candle. One night. One stupid hot decision.

There’s a category list with candle names that range from “Mommy issues” to “Sugar daddy” to “Loser trapped in a hot body”

You narrow your eyes, “Han needs help”

Scrolling through, one product makes you freeze.

It’s titled:

VALENTINE #08: Sweet Venom

You start to read the description, already regretting:

🧸 Smells like gummy bear and sin 💦 Notes of grapefruit, bubblegum and fake innocence ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Dimples – Boyish grins – Soft flirting – Oversized hoodies – Shy glances that secretly know exactly what they’re doing – Possibly: men who giggle when they kiss you 🚨 Caution: side effects include blushing, butterflies, and delicious makeouts.

The candle wax is bubblegum pink, sprinkled with red glitter and shaped into a gummy bear wearing sunglasses

“Jeongin”,  you mutter.

 It’s literally Jeongin in candle form

Prince lets out a long, judgmental sigh through his nose. You look at him.

“I know, okay? It’s dumb. But I haven’t made out with anyone in three months and this one promises me to attract a shy hottie and smells like candy!”

Prince gives you the kind of slow blink cats usually do when they’re plotting murder. Then, to make his opinion perfectly clear, he dramatically gets up from your lap, trots over to the corner, and purposefully pees on your favorite fuzzy slipper.

You gasp, “Prince!”

He makes unbroken eye contact the entire time.

Later, as you clean up the disaster, you whisper, “Too bad. Candle’s already on its way”

He barks once in protest or even jealousy. But at this point, that candle is probably your best shot

•°. *࿐

It arrives in a suspiciously pink box.

You're in your pajamas, a messy bun on your head. Prince circles your feet with low grumbles, like he can already see the disaster.

Inside there's bubble wrap, glitter confetti, and a folded card that says:

💘 "For lonely hearts and delusional fools. Good luck, sweetheart" 💘

You blink at it.

Beneath the card sits the candle— chubby, bear shaped, glossy, and pink. You lift it and immediately get hit with the fruity punch of grapefruit and sugar scent. Prince snorts, clearly not liking it. 

You're gonna light it up anyway.

When the match strikes, the wick catches instantly. The flame flares pink, then settles into a low glow.

You whisper, “This is ridiculous”

The candle crackles, like it has something to say about your skepticism.

You sit with it for ten minutes but nothing happens. No naked boys materialize from the void, no romance falls from the ceiling. Just pink light and an increasingly suspicious scent clouding your tiny apartment.

You blow it out.

That night, you dream of dimples and gentle hands that hold you tightly against a solid chest 

•°. *࿐

You sit in your microbiology lecture the next day, twirling your pen, trying to forget the cursed candle and your pissy poodle.

Someone slides into the seat beside you.

“Hey”, says a soft voice.

You turn and there he is— Jeongin. Oversized hoodie, sleepy eyes, and the kind of lazy smile that makes your heart twitch like you’re allergic to calm.

“Hey”, you say trying to pretend you didn’t light up a magic candle to him last night.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Hum… so, exams are coming and I’m, like, failing bacteria”

You blink, “You mean microbiology?”

“Yeah, that. Can you maybe help me? Study, I mean?”

You stare at him. His lips curl up. Dimples. Soft. Boyish smirk. Your brain almost short circuit immediately.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You lit the candle and Jeongin just asked to spend time with you. To study ‘bacteria’. Romance is dead, but of course you want to spend hours talking about bacterial structure and infections with this man.

“Yeah, okay!”, you say, “When do you wanna start?”

“Tonight? If you’re free?”

You swallow, “Yeah, totally. My place?”

“Sure”

“Great, I text you the address”

“Cool”

He winks before he leaves, leaving you completely breathless

•°. *࿐

The books are closed. The last flashcard is discarded  between pizza boxes and your empty soda cans. You're both sitting on your bed after hours of bacterial cell walls. Close. Way too close. Jeongin’s hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and he keeps watching you. The kind of look that could knock the air out of your lungs if you let it.

“I think I get it now”, he says, voice a little raspy from talking for so long, “About bacteria. And maybe about... you”

You blink, “Me?”

His hand touches your knee, carefully. You don’t move.

“I thought I was imagining it”, he says, thumb brushing small circles against the fabric of your joggers, “But I don’t think I am”

Your voice is barely a breath, “Imagining what?”

“That you want me to kiss you”

The tension hangs between you. 

“You were never ‘failing bacteria’, were you?”

He smirks, lazily shaking his head as a ‘no’.  You lean forward, hesitantly, but Jeongin doesn’t waste time. His lips catch yours in a kiss that’s hungry from the very first second.

He kisses like he’s been holding back the whole time— deep, slow, full of heat that crawls up your spine and makes your fingers grab his hoodie like you were trying to pull him even closer. If that’s even possible. You feel him shift closer, one hand sliding behind your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs to feel every inch of you.

Your teeth graze, lips part. The sound he makes isn’t soft— it’s needy.

His mouth trails down your jaw, before returning to your lips again— urgent, wet, dizzying. Your heart races, your mind spins as he lays you down.

Jeongin’s hands slide beneath your shirt, and your breath hitches when he mutters something filthy against your skin.

You know you should stop, your dog’s still in the room but you think, “he’s just a dog”, and he’s curled up quietly at the foot of your bed like he always is. Right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

Because the second Jeongin shifts above you, one knee nudging between your thighs, hips pressing down to close the space between your bodies— there’s a sudden blur of a bark and a ferocious growl followed by a:

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

You jolt upright just in time to see your little white poodle, Prince, with his teeth sunken to Jeongin’s ass. His ears are back, eyes wild, tail puffed up like a pissed off cotton ball.

“Prince!!” you shriek, grabbing a pillow and throwing at him, “LET GO!”

“I think he broke skin!”, Jeongin mutters, stumbling off the bed, hand clutching his butt, “Why is your dog like this?!”

“He’s never done this before!”

“Well, and I am not in the mood anymore”

“Jeongin, wait!”

“I call you”, he says as he stumbles to the door with his dignity in ruins, muttering about rabies shots.

The second the door shuts, Prince hops smugly on the bed, circles once, and sits like nothing happened.

You look at him with a piercing gaze 

“Prince” you say slowly, “Did you just bite someone because they were on top of me?”

He snores and then, like he has no shame, he crawls into your lap, lays his head on your chest, and lets out the most satisfied sigh you've ever heard.

•°. *࿐

It’s been three days since Prince ruined your make out session with Jeongin.

You still wake up remembering the look on Jeongin’s face. A little turned on. A lot confused

But life moves on, and so do your dating ambitions.

You’ve just finished vacuuming glitter from Jeongin’s candle out of your rug when your phone buzzes again.

Quokka 🐿️ :

How’s microbiology boy 😏

You: 

He got scared off. Prince bit his vibe off…

… and his perfect ass

Quokka 🐿️ :

LMFAOO

Damn, I hate this dog

Try another candle 😌Rebound power unlockedStop falling for muscle gods.

You roll your eyes and type back, “go away”

Quokka 🐿️: No ❤️ Go to the website Do it for the plot

Get one for a comfort boy.

You stare at the link for a full thirty seconds before clicking it again. 

You scroll past “Short kings”, “Bald and bold” and “Tight gym shorts”

Then you stop.

Because this one. This one is pale yellow, shaped like the Sun with a glistening label that reads:

VALENTINE #15: Sunshine Soulmate

🌞 Smells like honey tea, ginger and laughter 🤗 Notes of chocolate cake, kindness and cinnamon ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Gentle souls who bring you flowers for no reason – People who laugh at your worst jokes – Long nights with deep conversations – Someone who actually listens – Possibly: forehead kisses and hugs that feel like home 🚨 Caution: You may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

You whisper, “That’s… Felix” Felix, your neighbor. The guy who laughs when Prince humps his leg in the elevator, whose voice is deep but still soft as sunrises

You buy it. Heart pounding like a teenager in love.

Prince gives you that slow, side eye as if to say: what’s wrong with you?

•°. *࿐

The evening the candles arrive, you shut your curtains and pull Prince to your lap. You open the box, press your nose into it and inhale. 

You light it.

The flame burns in a gentle yellow, rippling across the living room like sunlight on water.

Prince barks once, looks at you. You wrap him in your arms. He hides his head on your shoulder, tail thumping.

Beside you, the candle crackles in soft tones

“I don’t know why I’m doing this”, you whisper, “Felix is… he’s out there. Probably doing small talk with old ladies at the grocery store line” 

You brush your fingertips along Prince’s fur, “And I’m here wishing he liked me. Not for muscles. Or dangerous smirks. Just… for real, warm, comfortable company”

You laugh weakly, “Instead, I am here like a desperate loser. Stuck on stupid candle magic and a dog who won’t leave my lap”

You blow out the candle and Prince snorts with satisfaction.

You lean your head back and close your eyes wishing it works this time 

•°. *࿐

It’s the day after you lit the candle.

You’re in your apartment, dressed in your emotional support hoodie,  trying to figure out if  cereal counts as dinner, when there’s a knock at the door.

Prince immediately loses his entire mind.

You stagger to the door, hair messy, wearing socks that don’t match. You open it to see…

Felix.

Golden hair, oversized cream knit sweater, a smile that curves like a sunrise, freckles scattered on his cheekbones like a constellation. He’s holding a large tupperware container in one hand, and in the other a movie DVD.

You blink, “Hi…”

“Hey”, he grins, “I made cookies. Movie night? You, me, and…”, he peeks over your shoulder, “Prince. If His Royal Highness is free”

Prince wags his tail like he understands what Felix said, then bounces in excitement.

“I, huh…”, you swallow, “That sounds really nice, actually”

Felix’s smile grows, eyes doing that crinkly thing that makes your stomach fold in on itself like origami.

 “Then come over. Comfy clothes are mandatory”

•°. *࿐

You arrive minutes later with Prince and a bag of chips. Felix opens the door and Prince immediately trots in like he owns the place.

You follow after him.

The apartment smells like vanilla, sunshine and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. There are string lights over the couch. A fluffy blanket fort in the corner. The screen is already paused on the movie menu.

“You seriously still use DVDs?”, you ask.

Felix shrugs, “They’re nostalgic”

He hands you a cookie and gestures for you to sit. Prince climbs onto the couch like he pays rent and plops between you and Felix. 

You roll your eyes, “Prince, really?”

Felix just laughs, “It’s okay. He’s protecting his princess”

You choke on a cookie crumb.

Felix chuckle— warm and contagious. He pats the couch beside him, “Come on. I won’t bite”

You settle in, shoulder brushing him. Prince lets out a grumble, but accepts his fate. 

As the movie plays, you pretend to focus. Felix smells like clean laundry and he keeps laughing at all the dumb lines, and every time, your head turns toward the sound like it’s a magnet

Halfway through, your fingers brush while reaching for the same chip. Neither of you pulls away. He glances at you. You glance at him and the tension grows heavier

“You’re warm”, Felix says, soft like the rain outside 

You whisper, “So are you”

And then, very gently, his fingers lace in yours.

Prince snorts loudly and ruins the moment, of course, but Felix just grins and presses his shoulder into yours. He’s warm and sweet, and you feel like the candle was right: you may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

Even better? Prince is behaving.

Not just behaving like sitting quietly, he's actually snuggled against Felix’s side, tiny chin resting on Felix’s thigh, tail wagging lazily every time Felix absentmindedly scratches his fluffy fur

You almost tear up from the relief.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, “He likes you”

Felix grins, flashing that sunshine smile, “He’s adorable. So chill. I thought he didn't like me”

You look at Prince, who blinks innocently at you, “Yeah, me too…”

You start to relax. Maybe this time it’s different. Maybe Prince has matured, maybe he has accepted he can’t be your only source of affection forever. 

When the screen goes dark and Felix kisses your cheek, thanking you for coming, and walks you both to the door. You feel suspiciously hopeful.

Until twenty minutes later.

Your phone buzzes.

Felix 🌞:

So…

Not to be weird but….

 I think Prince left me a present

In my gym bag

Like a solid one

Like a Number Two  

Your jaw drops.

You:

OH MY GOD FELIX I’M SO SORRY!!! Please say you didn’t put your hand in there

Felix 🌞: 

I didn’t But he looked me RIGHT IN THE EYE before you guys left I thought it was affection It was a threat

You sprint to your room and throw open the door. Prince is stretched luxuriously across your bed, tiny paws crossed, eyes closed like a cat sunbathing.

You whisper, horrified, “You pooped in his bag”

He doesn’t even flinch.

“Why?! You liked him!”

He opens one eye, blinks, yawns and turns away.

Yeah, you probably will die single because of him.

•°. *࿐

It’s been four days since the incident with Felix

You’ve blocked the memory of his hands on your waist and the sound of his laugh as the movie played. You’ve told Han you’re not buying another candle. He insisted anyway

Quokka 🐿️: Girl they have one called “Moonstruck” 

That shit it’s POWERFUL

You roll your eyes so hard you almost pull something. But later that night, curiosity wins. Again. As always. You find yourself scrolling through Get lit, Get laid, one leg on the heater with Prince drooling on your thigh.

You scroll until you see it.

VALENTINE #20: Moonstruck 

🕯️ Smells like lavender, rosemary, paint, and quiet mornings 🎨 Notes of melancholy, watermelon and pink glitter ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Artists who see the world sideways – People who cry at concerts – Loud laughter in silent rooms – Boys who write you poems – Possibly: a guy who really loves you, kinda needy and clingy 🚨 Warning: lighting may cause a sudden urge to talk to the moon

You frown. There’s no face you associate with it. No crush. No worthy idiot.

Just... an unexplainable certainty that you should buy that damn candle..

•°. *࿐

The candle arrives three days later in a box that smells like moon dust.

You light it that night. It flickers purple and gold

Prince hops on the couch, circles a free time, and flops dramatically into your lap with a grunt. You stroke behind his head as you whisper, “You realize this is your fault, right?”

Prince snorts.

“No, seriously. I used to be fine. I had a relationship. An almost stable emotional state. A carpet without candle dust”

He yawns, jaw cracking.

You sigh, laying your head back, candlelight dancing across the ceiling.

“You’re the one who scared my dates away. You. A chaotic dog with judgmental eyebrows and a spirit full of vengeance”

Prince blinks, like he was waiting for you to finish your dramatic monologue

“I’m going to die alone,” you say gently, cupping his face. “Just you and me, buddy. And someday you’ll bury me in someone’s backyard next to your long lost squeaky bones”

Then he licks your nose. You laugh softly, burying your face in his fur. 

The candle flickers. Something in the room shifts. Not loud. Not bright. Just a breath of something different.

You fall asleep on the couch like that.

Prince curled at your side. Candle burning low. Dreams thick and golden behind your eyelids.

As you sleep, a shape stirs on the floor.

But you don’t notice 

Yet.

•°. *࿐

You wake up with a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Not the clatter of paws on tile. No collar jingling. No soft whimper.

A human noise.

You sit up, disoriented. The candle’s completely burned down. Your phone says it’s 3:42 am.

You grab a blanket and tiptoe into the hall.

“Prince?” you whisper, heart hammering.

Then you see him.

A tall, completely naked man rifling through your fridge like he lives there.

His back is to you at first, but then he turns, very casually, sipping from your carton of chocolate milk with a smile like this is the best day of his life

You scream.

He drops the milk.

“WHAT THE FU… WHO THE HELL… WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!”

 “You asked that candle to bring you someone who really loved you. So… surprise?”

You take a full five seconds to connect the dots. The familiar shape of his lips. The floppy hair. The weird sparkle in his eyes that you always said made him look like he knew your secrets.

“…Prince?” you whisper again, backing into the wall.

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Technically, I’m Hyunjin. But yeah. You kinda wished I turned into a human”

You stare at him. “You were a dog…”

“Your dog” he says, stepping closer, still naked, “And now I’m something even better”

“Why are you still naked?!”

“Because pants weren’t part of the wish, obviously"

You’re still in shock. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out as you try not to stare at the way he’s standing there like he isn’t naked while drinking choco milk in your kitchen.

Hyunjin takes one last unapologetic sip straight from the nearly empty carton. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lets out a satisfied sigh like he just finished a fine bottle of wine.

“You’re gonna need to buy more of this, by the way”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He shakes the carton, upside down, “It’s gone. Like. All of it. I was thirsty” 

Then, thoughtfully, he concludes, “I think it’s my favorite thing about being human so far”

“You…” You gesture wildly at the mess of milk dribbled on his chin, the open fridge door, the nudity.

“You drank my entire carton of chocolate milk naked at 4am?!”

“And it was amazing” he says, eyes twinkling, “but also kinda sad, because now there’s none left. So... maybe write it on a list or something?”

You inhale. Exhale. Pinch the bridge of your nose, “You are literally a magical dog who turned into a man because I lit a cursed Valentine’s candle. And your priority is…”

“Chocolate milk”, he finishes happily,  “And pants. Eventually”

You sigh so hard your soul leaves your body for a second, “I need to go lie down”

“Bring me a glass of water?” he calls after you. “I think I’m still a little thirsty”

You just ignore him.

•°. *࿐

You wake up hours later, head pounding.

For a minute, it’s peaceful. 

Maybe it was a dream. A fever dream. The wine, the candle, the stupid wish— maybe it all blurred together and created the world's most chaotic hallucination.

Then you hear it— a soft hum coming from your bathroom followed by a voice calling out sweetly

 “Ynnie… I’m ready!”

You stumble  to the bathroom, push the door open and immediately regret it.

Hyunjin is standing in the tub, completely naked again. Hair fluffed, cheeks glowing, a towel barely draped over one shoulder

“Took you long enough, lady”

“What… are you doing?”

He blinks, all innocent, “Waiting for you to wash me”

Your brain malfunctions, “I… what?! You’re a man now! Wash your own damn self!”

“But you always bathed me”, he tilts his head, lips curling into a pout so automatic that it has to be a leftover reflex from puppyhood.

 “You use that nice strawberry shampoo. You talk to me while you scrub behind my ears. And you give me a towel hat after”

You gape at him, “Hyunjin”

“I even set everything up!” he says proudly, gesturing to the row of bath products you specifically use for your spa days, “I want bubbles. And the scalp massage thing you do with your nails”

He pauses, grinning wider.

“I’ll wag my tail if it helps convince you”

You slam the door in his face and shout through it,  “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCHING MY EXPENSIVE MASK”

From inside, he calls back sweetly, “You’re still gonna brush my hair after, right?”

You groan, “I regret meeting Han in the first place”

You press your forehead to the bathroom door and sigh like you’re in a tragic k-drama.

“No”, you mutter to yourself, “You are not giving in. You’re not brushing his hair. You are not washing a grown man in your tub just because he used to be a poodle”

And then, the door creaks open.

He pokes his head out. Hair dripping, wet strands falling over his flushed face. And his eyes— those big, dark, round eyes— look up at you like you just kicked a puppy.

“Yn…”

You swallow hard 

“I don’t know how to rinse the bubbles out without stinging my eyes…”, he says softly, pouting already, “You always helped me…”

You blink, “Hyunjin, you're literally 1,80 now”

He nods, “And helpless”

You try to hold back. You really do but then he whines— a soft, high pitched whine— and tilts his head the exact same way he did back when he wore a collar instead of a smirk.

 That’s the end of you.

You sigh and push the door open wider, “Move over, prince of manipulation”

His face lights up like you just gave him a treat.

You kneel by the tub, grabbing the showerhead and your strawberry shampoo, muttering under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this”

He leans forward immediately, elbows on the edge, chin in his palms, a grin curling his lips, “You love it”

You glare at him.

He sticks out his tongue.

You dump water over his head.

Then you reach for the conditioner, “You're lucky you're pretty”

He grins, “I am, huh?”

You gently work the conditioner into his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp. He melts instantly. He closes his eyes and lets a pleased little sound slip out of his throat, one that makes your chest tighten.

“I used to love when you did this”, he says, “Even when I was just… Prince”

You blink, “Yeah?”

He hums, “You were always so gentle. Careful. Like I wasn’t just a dog”

You pause, hands still in his hair, “You weren’t just a dog to me. You were like my best friend. Even when you acted bitchy”

That makes his lips part slightly, eyes opening to find yours.

He sits up just a little, water dripping down his chest, “You know what I didn’t like?” he says after a moment, more serious now.

You wait.

“When strangers touched me. Like, on walks. People always think dogs want to be pet, but sometimes I hated it. I only liked it when you did it”

Your heart thumps once, sharp and loud.

“I hated the vet”,  he continues, “and when you left the house for too long. I hated when you cried and I couldn’t do anything but nudge your hand with my nose”

You look down, “You always stayed beside me, though”

“I couldn’t not. You are the person I love the most”,  he says, voice catching a little with the weight of that truth. “Even then, you were mine”

The bathroom fills with soft steam and silence. You rinse the last of the conditioner from his hair, fingers lingering just a little too long at the nape of his neck.

When you look at him again, he’s staring at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Something human, vulnerable

“Do you still want me?”, he asks, voice quiet, unsure for the first time.

You don’t say anything.

You just reach for a towel, help him sit up, and whisper

“Let’s get you dry first, Prince”

•°. *࿐

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your fridge door slamming and a tragic gasp.

You stumble into the kitchen to find Hyunjin— still only in one of your oversized hoodies, hair a fluffy mess— standing barefoot and betrayed.

He turns, horrified. “You didn’t get more chocolate milk”

You blink. “Good morning to you too”

“I dreamed about it last night”, he whines, “I woke up tasting it. You promised me”

And like a fool, you drag yourself the shopping mall looking like a tired single parent and return with two gallons of chocolate milk, a new phone with a pink glitter case, a comfy set of sweatpants and sweatshirts, socks with little chocolate milk cartons on them and in exchange, you got a custom contact in your phone saved as:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑

By noon, he’s curled up on your couch, sipping from a bendy straw, scrolling through his phone while making soft noises every time he finds an emoji he likes. 

“Why does this one look like you??”, he says, holding up 🐸

You finally stand in front of the hallway mirror, curling your lashes and adjusting your dress.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asks casually, mouth full of banana bread you didn’t even see him open.

“Out” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“To see another man?”, his tone is suddenly more icy.

You sigh, “It’s just a date, Hyunjin. You’re fine. You’ve got snacks, Netflix, a phone…”

“You’re leaving me alone on my second real day as a human?”

“You spent all morning watching dance compilations on TikTok. I think you’ll survive”

He narrows his eyes, “I bet he's not even that cute”

You grab your bag and keys, “Stop being jealous”

“You’re being reckless!”, he shoots back, arms crossed,  “You just got new clothes and now you’re going to let some muscle boy take them off you?”

“Oh my God. You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t need to!” he says. “I know you. And I know you like when someone is clingy and follows you around the house and licks your cheek to make you laugh”

“HYUNJIN”

“What? Too honest?”

You point to the couch, “Stay here. Don’t pee on anything. Don’t text my friends. And don’t sabotage this date, it's my last chance”

He sulks dramatically, curling up like a cat, muttering, “I hope he's allergic to fur”

You leave anyway.

But as you wait for your Uber, your phone buzzes.

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Fine. Go. But I hope his hugs aren’t as warm as mine Also we’re out of Nutella Also I miss you

You roll your eyes, ignore him and tell yourself, “Just one more date”

But you already know Prince is going to ruin it somehow

•°. *࿐

You were watching a movie at Changbin’s place— just the two of you, a blanket, snacks, and something cheesy playing in the background. He’s got one arm slung casually around your shoulder, his body warm and solid beside yours. You’re relaxed, comfortable, almost sleepy.

Until your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Changbin glances down first, just instinct. He's in the middle of reaching popcorn, and the screen lights up so bright it catches his eye.

Immediately, he frowns

“Hum… who’s Prince Hyunjin?”

Your blood runs cold. You reach for the phone but it’s too late.

He reads the preview out loud:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Baby, I want to taste you so bad I'm losing my mind. 

Come home and let me be on my knees for you.

The air goes thick.

“Changbin, wait… I can explain…”

“You have a boyfriend named Prince Hyunjin?!”

“He’s not… he wasn’t… he used to be my dog!”

Changbin blinks, “That’s… somehow worse?”

You bury your face in your hands, “He was a poodle, okay? A fluffy little spoiled brat named Prince. But then one day he… he just turned into a human, and now he thinks he owns me”

Changbin just stares at you, “You’re telling me your ex poodle is now sexting you and calling himself Prince Hyunjin?”

“You think I’d make that up?!”

You phone buzz one more time

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Tell this dude you’re with to keep his hands off you unless he wants to lose them

Your thighs are mine.

Changbin slowly stands up, hands in the air like he’s surrendering to your craziness, “You should… just go. Before I get bitten. Or murdered by your shapeshifting, possessive ex dog”

“Bin, please, you have to believe me…”

He backs away toward the door, voice full of sarcasm, “No, no. It’s fine. I just need some time to… process”

He opens the door. And you can’t do anything but grab your purse and leave,

“I… call you?”, you try one last time

“Nah, you don't have to. Bye”

And then, he shuts the door on your face

You sigh and presses your forehead against the cold wall, picking up your phone 

You:

HYUNJIN. 

WHAT DID YOU DO???

He replies immediately:

I always get what I want

•°. *࿐

Your place is quiet when you enter. A low hum comes from the TV still on, playing some cartoon.

And on the couch, curled up sideways, limbs long and tangled, face buried in the cushions— is him.

Hyunjin.

He’s in your favorite hoodie. The one you wear when you’re sad or sick or just need to feel safe. It swallows him, sleeves bunched at the wrists, the hem covering his hips where his bare legs stretch out toward your coffee table.

One hand clutches the sleeve. The other clutches an empty spot on the couch like he reached for you in his sleep.

You stand there for a moment, just watching the ridiculous boy who used to bark at your guests now dreaming under the colorful lights of Adventure Time.

He shifts in his sleep and murmurs your name, crackling your chest open. You walk over, slowly, and crouch beside him, gently stroking back his hair.

"Yn…?" he whispers, eyes still closed.

"Yeah”, you whisper back.

He blinks once, then opens his eyes.

“Did he kiss you?”, he asks quietly, voice hoarse from sleep

“No”

“Good”, his lips curve into a sleepy smile, “I wore your hoodie so you’d think of me”

“How could I forget you, my prince?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your fingers, “Then stay here with me. Forever”

You nod, and curl onto the couch with him. His arms find your waist instantly, nose pressing to your neck. Right there in his arms, the weight of another failed date all thanks to Hyunjin’s relentless mischief, seems to fade a little

You sigh deeply, “You know what, Hyunjin? I give up”

He perks up instantly, “Hum?”

“I’m yours” you say, voice soft but firm. “I’ll spend Valentine’s Day alone and it’s your fault for ruining every single date I try to have”

Hyunjin’s little chest puffs out like he’s won the grandest prize. Then, almost immediately, he sulks, lowering his head and giving you a pout that’s impossible to resist.

“Come on… just one kiss. On the lips. You can’t resist me forever”

“Hyunjin”, you say softly, shaking your head with a gentle smile, “No. Forehead kiss only”

You lean down and press a warm, tender kiss on his forehead, feeling the soft brush of his hair. He grins so bright that you know you’ll never escape being his, no matter how hard you try.

Before you can pull away, Hyunjin’s hands catch your face, and with a cheeky grin, he steals a bold, lingering kiss on your lips. It’s soft but demanding, warm and possessive all at once.

When he finally pulls back, his grin is pure mischief, “See? Told you I always get what I want”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You’re impossible”

Hyunjin just snuggles closer, tail wagging like he owns your heart. And honestly? He does. 

At the end, maybe all the love you needed was right by your side this whole time.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks and loves notes are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere, @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy, @jeonginsleftcheek, @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world, @hyunles , @lexlikesbts, @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold, @teenagepeterpan, @hangonhyunjin, @yxna-bliss

[former-incel]

Being labeled as "smart" is likely one of the reasons why I became an incel.

If you take away my math skills, I easily would have been in special ed as a child. I easily would have been labeled as "too stupid to amount to anything".

But because I'm good at math, I was labeled as "smart". The idea that I could struggle with anything mentally was nonsense to most people. Because I crave validation, I wanted to believe it. And I did believe it for quite some time.

I was made fun of regularly, because being autistic made me the "weird" kid everywhere I went. And when I complained about being made fun of, people would often reassure me that anyone who doesn't like me is just jealous, and that when I'm an adult, I'll be rich and those who made fun of me will be bums.

And I believed them. I didn't even try to be liked. I didn't even try to care how my actions affected people. I just assumed that if anyone doesn’t like me, it's because I'm smart. Many TV shows I watched, in which children who are smart are disliked, upheld that belief. I pretty much became exactly what you'd expect if you took the biggest idiot you can imagine and convinced him that he's smart, which often happens with conspiracy theorists.

In 6th grade, I had a teacher who at the time I thought was my favorite, but now I realize that he was possibly the meanest teacher I've ever had. He regularly humiliated the children who got bad grades. He compared them to me, saying that I'm going to be making six figures while they're working some low paying job. It felt good having a teacher praise me like that. I didn't notice how much of an asshole he was being because I wasn't the target. I began to crave that specific type of praise, in which others are put down and compared to me.

Naturally, people hated me for being conceited. And I continued to believe that they were just jealous of how smart I am.

In 7th grade, my math teacher didn't give me the same praise that my 6th grade teacher did. She actually had a problem with my conceited attitude. And I couldn't figure out why that was happening.

When I got to high school, and I started to find girls attractive, I decided that I wanted a social life. And since I spent years believing that being smart is why people didn't like me, I decided that I didn't want to be smart anymore. So I started proudly getting bad grades, openly having a nonchalant attitude about school, and finding creative ways to get detention. Of course, this didn't cause people to like me. They just thought I was a complete moron on top of being an asshole. They thought I was weirder than ever.

I don't expect that most incels would have had this exact experience, but there are likely some parts that many incels can relate to. For example, being made to feel "special", and being made to treat the people who I have the most in common with as my opposition.

When I stopped acting like I'm special and allowed myself to not be "smart" (but without exaggerating how stupid I am for attention), I realized that while I'm clearly different from the average person, there are plenty of people who I have a lot in common with.

[rooster-the-love-of-my-life]

Idiots At a Wedding pt2

Summary: Pretending to be Bob's girlfriend in front of his family has tk be easy right? Right...??

Pairings: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of family trauma, crying, kissing, Bob

A/N: omggg you guysss!!!!!! You're the absolute best, o wasn't expecting to get so uchlove from all of you, so.than you very very much much for this. Also I'm very sorry if anyone of you hasn't been tagged, I've been trying to tag yall but I can only have 50 tags per post, so I'll have to find a different way to tag you all. If any of you know how please do tell me, I could really use your help. Anywhoo, enjoy reading and don't be a stranger.💞💞

series masterlist || part 2

After spending an hour trying to make yourselves look presentable, you and Bob made your way downstairs to the party. The house was already packed with people, and more were yet to come. As soon as you reached the last step, Bob was whisked away by Mary and Jeff, leaving you standing alone in a corner.

"Ah, there you are." Annies sweet voice flooded your ears. "Where's Bob? He left you all alone already? I swear that boy need a lesson in how to treat a lady."

"It's fine." You replied. "He wouldn't have left me alone if he didn't know I could handle myself in a room full of strangers."

"Oh, I see you're one of us." She nodded cryptically. "I always knew he would go for someone like you."

"What does that mean?" You asked.

"What my dear sister means to say is, you're an extrovert too. Just like the rest of the Floyd family." Another sweet voice broke into your conversation. Looking at where it came from, you found it belonged to a young woman, who had now slung one of her hands on Annies shoulders and was leaning against her. "Robby's the only one of us who's an introvert, for a moment we all thought he was adopted, but alas, that quite shy boy is all ours. I'm Lucy."

"Ah, the bride to be. Congratulations." It all clicked finally as she engulfed you in a classic Floyd hug as well.

"You're even prettier than I expected." She said, as Annie agreed with her loudly.

"Oh please, have you two seen yourself." You chucked, slowly becoming red. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what did you mean by he would go for someone like me?"

Both the blonde sisters shared a knowing look with each other before Lucy explained. "Bob is the quiet one of the family, as you may have noticed. He was the one who stayed inside and read a book while the rest of us played football or did some loud thing. We always knew he needed someone to bring him out his shell, someone like you."

"And from what I've seen till now, he seems to be really comfortable with you. More than with anyonelse else." Annie finished, both looking smug.

If you weren't blushing before, you sure were now. You knew how different you and Bob were, anyone with functioning eyes did. But you had no idea you had any sort of effect on him. Maybe you two really were great actors. If so, this performance alone was enough to earn you an academy award.

The night continued, you stuck around with Annie who showed you around the house and introduced you to everyone all the while asking you about your work and the navy. After a few hours, when it was nearing dinner, Bob finally found you.

"Hello ladies." He said, walking up from behind you, casually planting a hand on your waist, catching you off guard. "Hope my sisters aren't annoying you darling."

Darling? Where did that come from? Regardless, your heart did back flips upon hear the nickname slip so casually from his mouth.

"Oh not at all." You replied, looking up at him. "In fact they've kept me really entertained with all your childhood stories."

"Oh dear lord no." He groaned loudy, his head falling down and landing in the nape of your neck. "Why do yall hate me?"

"What kind of sisters would we be if we didn't tell her about all the times you've peed yourself as a child?" Lucy teased.

"The nice kind." Bob mumbled, lifting his head a little but still keeping his chin resting on your shoulder. "But don't you both worry about anything. I'll tell her every embarrassing thing about yall before going to sleep tonight."

"Is that your idea of pillow talk Robby?" Annie joked, instantly making her younger brother regret saying what he said. "If so, I must say I am very disappointed."

"Now, now kids." You jumped in, knowing how flushed the man behind you must have gotten. "Be nice, I've got all week to see you three fight. Don't ruin the show just yet."

All four of you shared a laugh, when Mary called everyone for dinner. The entire party filled into the big dining room where homemade food was spread out on the table.

"Bobby, I might just kiss your mother." You whispered, mouth salivating at the sight of good home cooked food. The navy had it perks, but good food was not one of them.

"Be my guest." He chuckled. "But just beware, she might never let you leave."

You were about to say something else before you were interrupted by Mary clearing her throat.

"As most of you might know, today's the first day of the wedding celebration for our dear Lucy and Peter. And as out family tradition says, the newest couple in the room has to share a kiss. So come on yall." She finished, as both you and Bob looked around the room to see which couple was going to be the one kissing.

All the while, the entire room had turned towards the two of you and was watching you expectantly. It took a while for you two idiots to realise just who Mary was talking about, and as soon as you did, Bob quickly spoke up in defense.

"What? Ma. Come on, it's Lu's wedding."

"Yes, but Peter and I have been together for three years. You two have been together for only six months." She replied quickly, smirking.

"But-"

"No no, no ifs, no buts." One of Bob's many aunts jumped in. "Tradition is tradition, honey. Now come on, give your girl a kiss."

While Bob was trying to get you two out of this situation, you were stood next to him absolutely frozen. You had agreed that you might have to kiss and show a little affection out in public, but you didn't think it would be so soon. Even though Bob put up a tough fight, he couldn't put off his family.

He leaned down to your height, and slowly planted a soft kiss on you cheek, earning groans from everyone.

"Come on man." Someone shouted. "You kiss grandma Ruth better than that."

"Yeah Robby, I wouldn't be shocked if she left you for kissing her like a teenager." Someone else shouted as the whole room erupted in loud laughter.

Turning your head to your left, you were met with Bob's crimson face. Through all the howling and laughter, all you could think of was how horrible this must be for him. He never liked being the center of attention, ever. So having about fifty people urging him to kiss you might just be his worst nightmare.

Without a second thought, you placed your right hand on his left cheek and turned his head towards you. You took a step closer and got up on your tiptoes to reach him. Slowly, you leaned in with closed eyes until your lips landed on his. Bob was caught off guard for a mili second, but he quickly put his hands on you hips and brought you in closer, engulfing your mouth with his own.

From the moment your lips touched, you felt as if your whole body was on fire. You had done many things that pumped adrenalin through your body, heck you flew plane for a living. But none of it even came close to what you felt upon kissing Bob Floyd.

Bob kept pulling you in closer, as if he was afraid he would wake up from a dream if he let you go. But when he head the loud hooting around him, he finally came back to his sense and realized he was standing in the middle of a dining room and not alone with you. Though it did feel like it from the moment you touched his cheek.

You two pulled away, breathing heavily, yet still holding on to each other. You were just about to pull away completely when Bob learned in and gave you a short sweet kiss, making your heart leap right out of your chest.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Someone exclaimed over all the commotion. Your entire face was red and you were breathing heavily, staring right at the ground as Mary urged everyone to take their dinner.

Next to you, Bob was sure he had died and your kiss was what had greeted him into heaven. But neither of you had time to even look at each other before plates were thrust into your hand and food into your plates.

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

The bedroom was awkward to say the least. After dinner, which seemed to stretch out for an eternity, you finally trudged back into Bob's childhood bedroom, silent and red faced, both thinking about the same thing.

You slipped into the bathroom to get ready for bed and to get your giddy heart to stop beating so fast while Bob changed his clothes outside, reminding himself it was all just for show. All it'll ever be.

By the time you came out, he had already slipped under the covers and turned off the lights. Due to the lack of light, and your clumsiness, you bumped your foot into one of the dressers hard.

"Ow." You whispered, bending over because of the pain, cradling that foot while hoping on the other to keep standing stright.

"You okay?" Bob asked, voice gruff, followed by the rustling of sheets.

"I'm gonna need your help navigating the room Bobby." You whispered, trying to hide the pain in your voice.

"Oh shit sorry." He mumbled, turning on his bedside lamp. "I forgot it's your first time here."

"It's alright." You limped over to the bed and sat down, still cradling your hurt foot.

"Does it hurt too much? Should I get ice?" Bob fussed, serious faced, as you turned around to look at him, and boy was he a sight for sore eyes. His hair was messy, the kind of messy you wanted to run your hands through and mess up more. He wasn't wearing his glasses, sleep was evident in his eyes and his muscular torso was on full display.

Another thing learned about sweet, mysterious Bobby. You thought to yourself, trying not to blush to hard at the sight of him.

"I'm fine Bob, it's just a stubbed toe. I'll survive." You said, noticing how his expression hadn't changed. "And if I don't, I have you to nurse me back to life."

"That you do." He chuckled.

"There he is." You said, getting into bed as well. "Thought I'd lost you for a second."

"I was just worried." He replied, sliding in as well, laying face to face with you.

"You fuss over the stubbed toes of all your friends or am I just special?" You joked.

"You're just special." He answered without skipping a beat. You two laid in silence for a few moments, lost deep into each other eyes. But the big yawn that left your mouth ruined the moment.

"Go to sleep." Bob smiled at your scrunched up face, extending his arm to turn the soft yellow light off. "I'll see you in the moring."

"See you in the morning Bobby." You whispered through another yawn.

"Night sweetheart."

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

Morning came quicker than you wanted it to. Sunlight poured through the windows and the shrill chirping of birds took over, as you moved your blanket up over you head and turned the other way in an attempt to block out the sunlight. You were expecting, half hoping, Bob would still be sleeping next to you, but all you found when you stretched your hand was an empty bed. His side of the bed was already made, with his blanket neatly folded.

Of course he made his bed as soon as he got up, you thought, learning another thing about him.

You were in half a mood to stay in bed for a bit longer and laze around, but the smell of fresh pancakes mixed with the sound of laughter got you up on your feet within a second. You quickly got dressed and headed downstairs, where you were greeted by the Floyd family already enjoying breakfast.

Annie was sitting at the table laughing at something Lucy had said, with Andy playing in her lap. Mary was over by the stove, flipping pancakes with military precision along with Jeff who was cooking the bacon. And then there was Bob, who was standing at the end of the counter, pouring everyone orange juice in mismatched cups. His hair was sweaty, face flushed, glasses foggy, like he'd just come back from a run.

"Morning." You said loudly, announcing yourself. Everyone's head turned to you and a chorus of 'good morning' rang through the room. "I see you're still keeping up with your runs." You commented, walking closer to Bob.

"Can't give Hondo the pleasure of thinking I've gotten slow, now can I?" Bob replied, laser focused on pouring the juice.

"Right, throw me under the buss, why don't you. I won't be supried if I can't run a meter after eating your mom's food." You sighed, thinking about the delicious meal you had last night and the one you were about to have now. "Mary, you have magic in your hands, pure magic."

"Well thank you darling." She said, picking up the plates with the pancakes and heading towards the table. "At least someone here appreciates my cooking."

"Oh come on ma, we've been having your food for ages." Lucy argued.

"That doesn't mean you can't compliment a woman once in a while." Mary looked at her children with a pointed, teasing look.

"Don't worry marmie, as long as I'm here, you'll always have someone to compliment your cooking." Jeff chimed in, placing the bacon on the table and then placing a soft kiss on Mary's cheeks, the same way he would with his mother's.

Your heart melted upon seeing this. The way they all had accepted someone new into their family, loved him like their own. You could only hope you would get this in your life.

"That makes two." You added, smiling at the matriarch who returned it with the same vigor. "You need some help?" You asked Bob, who was finished with his task.

"If you won't mind." He replied, looking down at all the cups there were to carry. Without wasting another second, you both jumped into action. A minute later, all of your were seated on the table as plates of food were being passed.

Once everyone was settled in and already gulfing down the breakfast, Mary spoke up, breaking the silence.

"You know, I never asked how you two met?"

You head snapped up instantly, as did Bob's. There was a slight excitement in his eyes, the kind that comes when you see a question you already know the answer of in a test.

"Well we both-" Bob started, but was stopped by Lucy.

"I want to hear it from her." She said, looking at you intently. "Women always know how to tell a story, with exact timelines. Men don't."

"Well," You stared, placing your cutlery down gently in your plate. "We were both assigned to the same special task force a year ago. After the mission we were all asked to stay back, and that's when we got together."

"Oh my god, you're even worse than him." Lucy groaned.

"Come on, give us something more. We can't live on breadcrumbs." Annied chimed in.

"Details, dearie, details. Give us the details, tell us what you thought of our Robby when you first met him." Mary urged you, after your vague reply.

"Okay, um. I first saw him at the bar where the whole squad generally hangs out, the hard deck." You started, smiling fondly at the memory of that night. "He was sitting in a corner, drinking ginger ale and eating peanuts, while everyone else was playing pool. I was a little late-"

"As always." Bob added, giving you a teasing smile.

"Only five minutes late." You corrected, rolling your eyes playfully. "I didn't see him at first-"

"Cayse you were busy arguing with Hangman." He butted in again. "A usual occurrence."

"Will you let me continue?" You huffed, as Bob raised his hands in surrender, motioning your to go on. "When I finally did see him, he offered me his peanuts-"

"Which you took a handful of."

"Bob." All women on the table screamed.

"Sorry, sorry."

"And I've liked him ever since." You finished, knowing in your heart that the last part wasn't a lie.

"Aww, ain't the sweet." Mary gushed. "Now, tell me who asked who on a date?"

You shared a knowing look with Bob across the table and spoke before he got the chance to. "Mary, do you think your son would ever ask someone out first?"

The whole table erupted in fits of loud laughter, as Bob sank into his seat.

"You didn't ask her out?" The older woman gasped. "Why?"

"Why? Mama, have you seen her?" The answer slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. It was true of cousre, he was always afraid to talk to you cause of how pretty you looked at all times, but he never meant for it to come out like this.

"Our little Robby, smitten like a kitten." Lucy teased, pulling at her older brothers cheeks, who swatted her hands away.

"As cute as this may be, I still think it's wrong you didn't as her out." Mary voiced. "Your father taught you better than this."

"What do you want me to do now mama? Were already together." Bob replied.

"Ask her out." She suggested.

"Mary, that's completely unnecessary." You chimed in.

"Nonsense. My son should know better."

"Yeah Bob, ask her out." Annie nudged you slightly, a cheeky grin taking over her face.

"Ask her out Robert." Jeff was in support of the ladies as well, smirking wildly at his brother-in-law.

"Ask her out, ask her out." Lucy chanted childishly. Even baby Andy started babbling as if he was willing his uncle to do the same.

"Alright, fine, fine." Bob sighed and sat up straight in his seat. You were as red as a tomato by now, finally understanding what Bob had meant when he said his family was a little too much. He said your name softly, looking right into your eyes.

"Darling, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Happily."

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

The rest of breakfast was a blur. Conversation flowed easy, love and warmth busted through the table and all you could think of was how fun it must have been growing up in such a family. A family who accepts you just the way you are, you didn't need to change, didn't need to be perfect to earn their love, all you had to be was theirs and they loved you. Oh, how you wished you had a family like that.

After breakfast was done, you were helping Lucy with the dishes all alone in the kitchen when she asked you your plans of the day. You were about to say it would be to do whatever was asked of you, but she had plans of her own for you.

"Well, whatever they are, cancle them." She announced, sitting up on the kitchen counter next to the dishwasher, where you were standing. "Cause I've decided to make you one of my bridesmades. Annie the made of honor, obviously. I was down one girl and one of Peters friends had to sit out, but not anymore now that Bob has got you into our lives."

"Oh Lucy, are you sure?" You asked, overwhelmed with how much this family had welcomed you. "It's your special day. I don't want you to feel obliged in any way to add me to your bridal party. I'd be more than happy to sit and watch the ceremony."

"Oh please, I might not have know you for too long, but I've grown really fond of you. Part of it cause I believe you truly are an amazing person. The other part is cause of how you are with Bob. I know he's my older brother and he's supposed to be the one looking out for me, but ever since we were young, it's always been the opposite. He's always been the quiet one, the easy target for most people, that's why we were all worried when he said he wanted to join the navy. None of thought he'd make it through basic training, but here he is. We all always knew he need someone soft, someone gentle, someone who could help him tune the world out whenever it got too loud or mean. And I'm glad he's found that in you."

You couldn't stop the tears from forming in your eyes as Lucy spoke. Bob's whole family cared so much for him, they never tried to change him or stop him from being who he was, they just protected him the best they could. And now they put their faith and trust in you to do the same, to love him gently and unconditionally. All of this made you feel extremely guilty for lying to them. Here they were, opening their home and hearts to you while you were deceiving them every chance you were getting.

"Oh Lucy." You whispered and slung you arms over her shoulder as she leaned down to hug you as well. "I'd be honored to be your bridesmade."

"Good." She laughed as she pulled away. You saw that tears had begun forming inher eyes as well. "Now, I'm gonna go stop crying cause I don't want my face to be all puffy all day."

With that and a squeeze on you shoulder, she was gone, leaving you alone, crying in the kitchen. Everything that was happening just reminded you of how different your family was, how conditional. The more you witnessed the love between the Floyd's, the more your ind was flushed with the bad memories of your own home.

Though your tears and the echos of your past, you didn't hear Bob descend the stairs and enter the room. He saw you leaned over the counter with eyes closes, sniffling softly and he immediately dropped the wet towel in his hands down on the floor and ran towards you.

"Hey, hey sunny, what's wrong?" He asked softly. He had never seen you cry before, he doubted anyone from the squad had, so this caught him completely off guard. "What happened? Did you get hurt? Did someone say something? Did I do something?"

"It's nothing Bob." You turned you head tbe other way, not wanting him to see you cry. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're crying." He whispered, placing his fingers gently under your chin and turning your head towards his. "You can tell ne what's wrong sunny." He cupped your face and began wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"I just really like your family Bob." Your voice cracked in the middle of the sentence as more tears spilled out of your eyes.

" Oh honey." He moved his hands from your cheeks to the back of your neck as he pulled you into a hug. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and a little part of you was cursing you for being this vulnerable during this time. The part raised by your father.

"I'm sorry, you're supposed to be enjoying with your family, not watching me cry." You pulled away, much to Bob's dismay. "I'm sorry, just forget this ever happened."

"You know you can tell me anything right sunny, anything at all. I'm all ears." He said, trying to look into your eyes but you kept your head down, not having the courage to meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Yeah, I know." You sipped your hands from his grasp and moved past him. "I'll tell you some other time."

You moved to the stairs quickly before Bob could say anything else. Evey muscle in his body was telling him to follow you, to demand to know what's wrong and help you fix it. But having grown up around women had taught him it was better to leave you be for the moment. Even though his heart was hurting, he had to give you space.

Taglist:

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[webslingingslasher]

j!!!!! i was going through your masterlist andddddr:

“second, you still get nervous about making out with me. you're not ready for sex.”

does she ever feel rejected? like obvs he’s not rejecting her, but the constant no’s has got to get her at least once, on a day where she’s tired or down or whatever🥺

guess who’s back… back again…

‘i’m tired of you saying no, peter. i get you’re trying to be nice and ease me into it and i totally trust you and, like, isn’t that the whole point? it just feels like it’s never going to happen. why should i hang around with you when being by myself is the same thing?’

peter’s trying to find a way to let you down easily without hurting your feelings more but he doesn’t know how to. ‘cherry, all i’m doing is moving at your pace. it might seem like i’m not but i am. if you really want to take that final step, you need to initiate it. and im not talking about telling me to do it, you need to do it.’

it feels like you’ve had this conversation a million times and today, it’s getting to you. ‘but you always say that and i feel like when i try to start something, you shut it down. you claim i always get in my head but i think you’re the one who’s over thinking, not me.’

peter looks at you with raised eyebrows, like it’s a challenge. ‘what, you’re ready right now? like, this very second.’ you nod, it’s what you were trying to say. ‘to be clear, you want me to lay you down and fuck you right here, right now.’

‘yes, peter. that’s my whole point.’

peter’s chest caves with a deep inhale, you’re expecting hard boundaries and a talk therapy session. what you’re not prepared for, is peter getting out of his desk chair to stand in front of you at the edge of his bed.

‘alright. lay back.’

you blink at him wide eyed. ‘what?’ peter gestures for you to lay back, you stay frozen. ‘you said you were ready for it. so, let’s do it.’ he was supposed to say no, he was supposed to tell you why you should keep waiting and take your time, not say yes.

‘like, right now?’ peter rests his knee next to you on the bed, you scoot backwards, you don’t really recognize the look in his eyes and you’re not sure if you like it.

‘yeah, right now.’ peter takes his shirt off, you swallow tightly because your throat feels dry. ‘now yours.’ you take a second to think about it but you shed yours too. it’s not the first time you’ve been shirtless around him, not even the dozenth. but it feels different this time.

‘c’mon, scoot back. i need to be up here too, don’t i?’ you inch backwards until your head lands on his pillows, peter cages himself around you, loosely straddling your legs. without warning, he wraps his hands around the waistband of your skirt and pulls it down your thighs. the standing fan at the far end of his room coats your legs, your thighs form little pimples from the cold.

again, its not your first time in this situation, it just feels… different. peter’s not as gentle, it’s like he’s got a ‘get it done’ mindset. ‘woah, um,’ you’re cut off with a kiss. a harsh one. there was no easing into a make-out session, in one second peter had his tongue in your mouth.

you push at his shoulders for the surprise, he backs off and kisses your jaw. ‘are you excited?’ he talks against your skin between wet kisses, you suck in a breath but you’re not sure if excited is the right word. when you said you were tired of hearing no, you didn’t expect an immediate yes.

‘yeah, sure, really excited.’ you didn’t hear it in your voice but peter must’ve. all he did was hum and make his way back to your mouth. it’s not normal kisses or teasing touches, it’s not going to end at his fingers in you or his mouth where you crave him most. it’s going to end with him inside you. and that idea is… a little jarring.

your chest feels tight when he skims over you, you shift your weight underneath him, he grinds his hips into yours. your eyes pop open at the sudden appearance of his hand in your underwear, you even look down to make sure you weren’t making things up.

normally, he tells you what he’s about to do. he’ll talk slow and sweet, communicate how he’s about to touch you and where but this time it’s like you were expected to know what he was going to do.

you look unsure but peter brushes it off. ‘mhm, you must’ve really wanted this… you feel so ready.’ your breath hitches, it’s not anticipation, it’s a threat.

‘i- i do?’ even you could hear the panic this time. peter just nods against your neck. ‘yeah, i’m sorry i pushed it off for so long.’ peter rips himself away, his hands fumble with his jeans, they land somewhere behind him.

you wanted this. you need to remind yourself all you’re doing is ripping off the bandaid. you try to calm your heart rate but it’s almost impossible when peter’s boxers come off. it’s been awhile since you’ve got to play with him but your minimal experience is coming out… hesitant.

you’re unsure if you should grab him and attempt some foreplay. or maybe he’ll tell you if he wants something. but you should know what he wants, right? you shouldn’t be this anxious, you trust him. you like peter, you chose him out of everyone else, you should know if he wants you to touch him.

you try to focus on his expert fingers, his heavy weight, his skillful kisses on the crook of your neck but there’s a hard imprint against your thigh that’s never been felt before and you implode.

your eyes squeeze shut, you throw peter backwards by a hard push on his arms. ‘stop! stop, stop, stop, stop!’ you heave for air, the second peter’s halfway off the bed, you can finally breathe. you hold a hand over your racing heart, you keep a focus on his ceiling to ground yourself. it takes a couple minutes but your brain resets itself.

you’re okay, you’re still a virgin.

‘when i said i was going at your pace, i meant it, cherry. all those things i just ignored, the freezing up, the hesitant movements, your stress… those are the things i look for. i know it bothers you sometimes but i always want to stop it before we get to this point. it’s not fun for either of us, right?’

you stay quiet, you don’t like when he’s right. peter’s made the same joke serval times, how he knows you better than you know yourself and this just proved it.

‘and when those things stop, we’ll go further. scared and nervous are two different things and that wasn’t nerves, that was pure fear.’

your embarrassment comes out as anger. ‘so you forced me to stop you? you care about me so much you put me through that? what if i didn’t stop you?’ peter rests his hand on your leg, you’re brave enough to look at him. he put his boxers back on in the time it took you to settle your heart.

‘i wouldn’t have done anything you didn’t want to do. i would’ve stopped it, you know i would’ve, i’m not scared to. you should know that by now.’ he smiles at you, he feels like like an enemy now. ‘you wanted to know why i end it before it can get started, now you know.’

your eyes narrow at him. ‘don’t be a jerk.’ he shakes his head, ‘i’m not. i was trying to show you what i feel when you say you want more. sex is supposed to be fun and it’s supposed to feel good. would you have had fun or feel good if i kept going?’

you take a deep breath and mutter a no under your breath.

‘i wouldn’t have either.’ you soak in the quiet of the room, peter strains his neck to kiss your knee. ‘i’m sorry i did that to you. i just thought you’d understand it better if you went through it.’

‘well, i do now. so thanks.’ you don’t sound very thankful. ‘cherry, that’s not a bad thing. yeah, sex might sound really good in the moment but sometimes when it comes down to it, you want to back out. no harm, no foul. sometimes we just change our mind. it doesn’t make you immature or invalidate what you thought you wanted.’

‘or in other words…’ you look at him to continue. ‘horny brain isn’t your real brain. and sometimes we forget that until it gets too real.’

you remember this first time you ever tried to hook up with him, truer words have never been said. ‘that’s so real.’ peter grins wide, ‘it is, isn’t it? so, what do you say? keep doing things like we are?’

you think about it and find yourself agreeing. ‘yeah. i kind of like you stopping it, actually. then i don’t feel so bad about myself, i can just pretend it’s your problem.’

peter play gasps, ‘it’s my problem?’

you’re finally able to smile along, he never makes you feel bad. ever. ‘totally your problem. who wouldn’t want to bang me? i think you’re scared of sex.’

peter nods, ‘absolutely terrified. having sex with girls i like scares me, i always end up dating them.’ you fawn and give him shy eyes. ‘are you trying to make me your girlfriend, mr. parker?’

‘mm…’ he sounds like he’s thinking about it, you squeal when he pulls you closer to him by your legs. ‘that depends on how you answer, miss. cherry.’ you’re about to make a joke about how you could be mrs. parker instead but the words leave your mind at kisses up your right leg.

you’re scared to go through with anything real, peter’s scared to hear your answer. and until either are ready to leap into the unknown, kisses down below will distract you both.

[thinkerer24]

"I'm hungry, please"

From the dark smut prompt list (I'm going to hell, aren't I)

Heed the warnings !

SMUT 18+,CNC, bondage, overstimulation, begging, squirting (or is it pee?), safeword is present but not used.

You don't know how long you've been down here, but you're sure it's been a whole day at the very least. Your voice is sore from screaming; you can almost feel nodules form at the cords due to the friction they've been subjected to. Your lips are chapped and cracking painfully, the drool by the side of your mouth dried up long ago due to a lack of hydration.

You're breathing deeply, chest heaving up and down, up and down, and you're so so loopy from the constant barrage of orgasms. You can only see white at this point. Your wrists and ankles are chafed raw from the thick rope that's been keeping you spread eagle on the wooden table for the better part of the evening. The constant click click click of the machine between your legs had irked you in the beginning but now it's the only sound you can hear aside from the shlick of your overworked pussy. The thick rubber phallus attached to the fuck machine breached your walls in a constant, steady rhythm; no amount of begging was stopping it. Its stamina was unlike any human and maybe that's the lesson Simon was trying to teach you. You almost regret teasing him about his refractory period now.

Almost.

You know you fucked up, like, as soon as the words had left your mouth, in all honesty. You knew he was tired, you knew he couldn't help himself when he was snuggled up inside your tight heat. You knew he'd make it up to you later, as he always did. But you'd been pent up for the better part of the week, and Simon hadn't given you much attention for the better part of the whole month because some fucking politician somewhere made some stupid decision that had his whole team riled up, whatever, you don't know, really. He'd wrapped up the entire wahoo and reached your shared house dead in the middle of night, embracing your sleepy body so tight you thought you'd break. He slipped inside you without much prep and under normal circumstances you'd have pushed him away but the burning stretch felt welcome after this celibate interval. You were so grateful for his rapid pace; already imagining all the positions you'd put him in, when his hips stuttered as his orgasm washed over him.

If this was any other time, as you'd repeatedly said before, you'd have kissed him to sleep and taken care of yourself. You would have, really, pinky swear. But you don't know what came over you when you rolled your eyes and made a scathing remark at his...less than satisfactory performance.

"Is this all I get from you, old man? Maybe I should buy myself a few more vibrators. At least they won't disappoint me like you do."

You promise you hadn't meant it.

The fuck machine was a gag gift, something you'd bought in the spur of the moment to spice up your sex life (not that it needed any more spicing up, your poor heart) after you'd seen it in some porno. You were intrigued, the idea of Simon fucking into your cunt while the dildo plowed into your ass at the same time was intoxicating. You'd shown it to Simon as soon as you'd bought it and he...wasn't too pleased.

"Am I not enough, love?"

"What? No, Simon, come on, it's just a toy, I-"

"We're not using it, babe. I don't wanna share you. Especially not with a fucking... Machine"

It was simple. Final. You pouted a bit but you got over it pretty quickly when he ate you out over the kitchen counter, right beside the half opened package, mostly forgotten.

Until now.

Simon decided the best way to punish you for making fun of him was to tie you to the kitchen table, spread eagle and have that very same machine plow at your poor, weeping pussy for hours, not until you waved your white flag. The prospect was so exciting to you at first, you were basically vibrating with anticipation as he tied you down. You winked at him when he asked you if you were ready, and he had just chuckled.

Oh you naive girl.

Simon was always present throughout the entire ordeal, not speaking a word as you begged and cried and sobbed through your orgasms. He got up from his seat occasionally to pinch your nipples roughly, smacking it once, twice, just to see your big, pleading eyes cry up at him. You'd squirted innumerable times and Simon's greedy eyes swallowed it all, but never once did he turn off the machine.

"Please. Please, please Simon I'm so so sorry I'm never gonna do it again, I'll do anything I'll suck your cock, I'm Si-"

Your words tapered into a shriek as you come, again. You're sure you're all dry by now, all your squirt pooled up beneath your ass and making you all sticky but Simon grabs you by the throat and pulls you up to show you the obscene sight in front of you. Your legs were shaking in the bindings and a huge trickle of what you were sure was pee was trickling out of you and onto the bright purple dildo.

"You see that, baby?" Simon's rough voice flooded your neurons, his first sentence of the night, "You're all fucked out but you're still squirting for your old man. Is this what you wanted, huh? Wanted to be fucked allll night long? Yeah?"

You're crying by now, hot tears slipping down your cheeks and gathering by his fist that was wrapped around your neck. The pressure made you lightheaded and your eyes roll back again as his other hand reaches between your legs to strum at your puffy clit.

You think you black out due to the unexpected orgasm but oh, no, Simon's not gonna let you go so easy. He releases the pressure on your throat and you gasp, the roaring of blood in your ears bringing you back to reality. He's so close to you you can smell his sweat.

"I'm hungry, Simon. Please"

You don't know where that came from. You weren't hungry, not really, but you don't think you could've taken any more of this torture.

The words seem to break him out of the trance he's in, his eyes softening instantly.

"What's the safeword, baby?"

You shake your head, not wanting to cop out of the punishment (I'm a big girl! you're repeating in your head) but Simon understands you're being stubborn. As usual.

He sighs and finally, finally, turns off the machine. The jarring silence that follows makes your ears ring. He pulls the dildo out of your cunt slowly and you whimper but he shushes you through it. He lifts the toy in the harsh light and you can see it drenched in your juices, a thick ring of your cream coating the base. You blush, and Simon just grins as he throws it on the floor.

He'll clean it later.

Slowly, he unties you and rubs your chafed limbs until you stop crying. His big arms wrap around you as he lifts you and carries you to the shower. You're clinging to him like a post-it, and it makes him just slightly guilty about what he's done.

"Pizza?"

You just nod and bury into his chest. A slight smile works itself into your face.

Worth it, you think.

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

"So, this one was actually a rarity for me, because as I said in the previous question, I use a lot of references but for this idea I decided to not use any of it. Since I was planning for a more cartoonish style for it I knew I wasn't going to struggle that much with anatomy or be too harsh on myself about whether it is realistic or not. I also didn’t wanna... think too hard while doing this one, I tend to be very perfectionist when drawing so I tried to force myself to not look too hard at whether a line wasn’t that good, the coloring not perfect and instead just try to shut my brain off and have some fun. And I mostly managed to do that, I had lots of fun doing it. I wanted to go for a very cute, very silly look for it, Like I wanted it to look like it tastes like candy or something like that if that even makes sense, lmao. Which is my favorite way to draw hellcheer, because honestly it's what they deserve, considering their sad unfair fate. I had this idea for this drawing because one of my favorites things to draw is Chrissy kissing Eddie in the face and him looking all goofy and lovestruck while her lipstick is all over his face. I’ve drawn this so many times and I never got sick of it, but I was like “what if I did that but with Chrissy” and decided my girl Chrissy deserves to be one getting some smooch this time so that’s how the idea for this drawing came to life." - itsdancingquen This rec is for our Artist Highlights.

Our featured artist is itsdancingquen

Know a stranger things artist that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks!

a surprise kiss from the freak 💗

[xenosagaepisodeone]

I've seen what happens when people Get Worse. I've orbited a lot of people who Got Worse (especially online). If you listen to people who Got Worse it's all the same: they don't have consistent, meaningful social support, they've been hurt too many times and they can't open up out of fear that the next betrayal is going to drive the knife right through the artery, they end up spending too much time alone and develop secret languages, meanings, thought cycles completely inscrutable to anyone who has never had to rely on such rituals to survive, they get caught in a cycle of reopening and licking their wounds because the progression of time is so unrewarding and stagnant that the past is basically always the present, and the present is already the future, they become mean, they become strange.

some people might offer to help them but it's rare they ever know where to start, let alone exhibit compassion without grimace. admittedly, even for genuinely compassionate people, it isn't the easiest thing. if the person is someone who is stuck in their ways or doesn't know you, they don't really have a reason to be receptive to your help. "why should I waste my time on someone who is just going to become another memory of heartache? someone who will carelessly hurt and abandon me?" and such. an earnest attempt to help can feel like an attempted assault to them. at the same time, the meaningful interpersonal relationships that these people need will not survive if built on pity or fleeting self-gratifying feelings of "building" someone into your idea of a desirable person.

I don't know where I was going with this, but I always found it hard not to see myself as only a few degrees removed from these people. one or two safety nets separated from being completely trapped. unable to feel safe in not just the world but also my own body. a cosmological dead end. I stay away from habitually engaging in the obvious things can that make trying to change when you're at this point difficult (alcohol, drugs, etc), but if temperance is how you maintain stability in the face of rock bottom, you're basically already there, right? you're there and your body just hasn't caught up. maybe I'm just being dramatic because it's late. hows everypony finding the new deltarune chapters.

[kunasthiast]

Yo! My two braincells keep thinking of how Sukuna would keep telling his girl to just remember her rainjacket as its gonna rain but she keeps brushing him off "Nah Im not gonna melt! I can handle it!."

Then end of day walks in soaked and running a fever🤣.

Last words of his before she passes out on the couch was "Told you to just take your rainjacket and umbrella...dumbass."

Yet he still loves her lol.

I adore your work and followed you!!!

okkk first of all tHIS IS SO CUTE !!! ty for sharing this with me omg i’m obsessed !! sukuna absolutely would nag about that damn rainjacket like it’s a life or death mission and then still be the one making soup and drying your hair with all the love in his black little heart 😭💔

hope u don't mind that i HAD to do a little ficlet for it (tysm for following too ily!! xx) belowwww:

--

“baby, bring your rainjacket.”

“it's just drizzle, 'kuna.”

he glares at you from the driver’s seat. “did you even check the weather?”

you lean over, kiss him on the cheek. “no worries, my tingles say it's gonna shine later. i’ll text when to pick me up.”

“i swear to god—”

“'kay, thanks, babe! love ya!”

sukuna slaps the steering wheel as you slam the car door and bolt.

this godforsaken pilates gym.

it’s your mom’s friend’s studio, and it’s halfway up a fucking hill like it’s trying to escape capitalism. a ten-minute stair climb, one way in, one way out. no drive-thru. no shelter. just stairs. and leg day.

you don’t even glance at the clouds.

one hour later.

you text sukuna “pick me up in 15 ily” with ✌️ and 💦 emojis.

and yes, you're already soaked.

he gets there five minutes late and sees you walking down the stone steps like a wet paper towel in human form. your leggings are clinging. your hair’s dripping. your face says “i’m fine.” and your immune system says “perish.”

“jesus christ,” he mutters, throwing the passenger door open. “you’re dying.”

“i’m FINE,” you rasp, crawling in like a wet cat. “i’m totally good.”

“you look like a drowned church rat.”

“okay rude,” you sniff. “but like...kinda.”

“i told you. i told you to bring that fucking jacket, dumbass.”

“yeah well,” you mumble, curling into the seat, “those are for cowards.”

he hits the gas. “and now you’re sick and stupid.”

“shut up.”

he rolls his eyes so hard it should’ve been audible, one hand already cranking the heater toward you.

“next time i’m shoving that damn jacket in your bag myself.”

you sniff, already curling up like a sick little croissant (what even is that visual ?? just a soaked croissant ??!).

“love you too, sunshine,” he mutters.

"you're too bossy," you retorted.

“tch, shut up and sneeze in the other direction.” as he continues driving back to your house.

--

a/n: hasdhsahda lol sorry this is not proofread but that idea was just so cute tysm again <3333

[cheekytv]

unsacred place - a. f. x f!reader MDNI the hot stranger arthur sees everytime he goes to the library finally makes a move and somehow ends up between his legs... under the table.

pairing: arthur frederick x f!reader genre: smut, MDNI! warnings: public setting, handjob, blowjob, cum swallowing, mentions of penetrative sex wc: 1.5k a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @pretendyoucantseeme!!!! i love you so damn much and i hope you enjoy this little one shot of arthur doing one sho- ok, ok i'm gonna stop myself there. anyway... i love you! and i am so, so happy i met you. you make my life better. mazel tov my baby.

the library was a sacred place for arthur. had always been the one place he knew he’d find peace and quiet. in here he could always concentrate on his work - no matter if it was an essay or a paper or even just the final edit of a video if his walls at home seemed to creep up on him. 

and then you started showing up. 

glasses propped on your nose, blouse straining over your cleavage, skirt so short he could see your ass cheeks when you bent over. 

concentrating in his sacred place became harder and harder (and so did something else). 

he never talked to you, only watched you from afar, feeling like the biggest creep on earth. but how could he not? and why had no one else noticed how extremely inappropriately you were dressed for the god forsaken library?! arthur felt like he was being pranked. 

whenever he spotted you walking in, same old short skirt and tits almost falling out of the way too tight blouse, hair a mess of curls he couldn’t stop imagining his fingers curling into whilst that pretty mouth of yours was wrapped around his cock. it was bad. he was bad. and he left the library with a raging erection every single time. 

what arthur obviously didn’t know was that you were very well aware of him. while shy and not the type of girl to pick up a fine looking man in the library normally, you didn’t mind the game. the first time you had stumbled into the library, you had worn an outfit you had felt uncomfortable in the whole day. choosing the wrong blouse, skirt somehow having shrunk in the washing. 

and then you had felt his eyes on you. his gaze had undressed you right then, had made you feel wanted, desired. you suddenly didn’t feel uncomfortable but sexy and your ego skyrocketed. 

the next time you walked into the library, same type of outfit on, you were more than just a little relieved to see him sit at his usual table. he never noticed your knowing smirk. and you never went over to him to do something about it. 

until today. 

arthur is sitting at his usual spot when you walk in. head lowered and concentrating on whatever book he is reading. you chew on your bottom lip, knowing full well this has been going on for far too long. perhaps today should be the day to change it. talk to him. even though you are quite aware, neither of you is really interested in just talking. 

before your nerves get the chance to take over, your legs bring you over to his table and you sit down next to him more confident than you actually are. 

arthur’s head shoots up and his eyes widen when he spots you. 

oh fuck. 

it’s harder than he’d like to admit not to immediately look at your tits. 

you smile.

“hi. i’m y/n.” you say. he swallows and blinks a few times. right, he should probably say something back.

“h-hi. i- uh, i’m arthur.”

“nice to meet you, arthur.” you lean forward slightly, more than contempt with the confidence taking over completely now.

“even though, i feel like we’ve known each other for weeks now, isn’t that right?” your voice is low in his ear and he feels a shiver running down his spine in the best way possible. his cheeks flush and he shifts on his seat, nervously laughing.

“i- uh, what do you mean?” he knows exactly what you mean. he has no idea why he is even asking. 

you chuckle lightly, letting your eyes roam over his pretty face.

“oh, i think you know what i mean.”

your hand finds his knee, squeezing it slightly. he jerks, eyes back to widening. 

“you- what-,”

“tell me to stop, arthur, and i will.” you tilt your head and let your hand wander further up his thigh, voice still low. arthur is sure he’s about to have a heart attack. 

there aren’t many people around on a saturday morning, thankfully, but it’s also not like there is no one there. he knows two med students are in the further back and the librarian is at the desk at the front. 

“we- we just- we just met, i- i don’t even know anything about you.” he rambles on in a hushed voice, but his eyes speak different volumes - and so does his cock.

“what do you wanna know?” your hand squeezes his thigh before moving even further, fingers reaching his crotch and feeling the very obvious excitement going on within him. you can’t help the smirk on your lips.

“i- uh, just- wh-whats your major?”

“journalism.” you press down softly on his crotch now and arthur hiccups. 

“fuck- fuck, okay, uh, d-do you have siblings?”

“an older sister.” you manage to open his zipper and button, hand slipping into his jeans, wrapping around his cock still hidden by his briefs. his hips shake and his hands grab the edges of the table.

“n-nice, v-very nice, thanks for sharing.” 

“yes, i am a very nice girl. now, be quiet, arthur, we don’t want anyone catching us, hm?” you look around for a second, happy to notice no one is seated anywhere near you. without giving it any more thought, you slip under the table, positioning yourself between his legs. 

the heart attack is imminent, arthur thinks. his cock is throbbing painfully at this point and he dares to look down, watching you free him from the restraints of his briefs. when you spit into your hand and wrap it around his cock, he thinks someone shot him in the head. 

“bloody hell.” his head falls back and you get to work, beginning to jerk him off quickly, tongue licking over his leaking tip. arthur has absolutely no idea how he’s supposed to stay quiet. 

his fingers dig into the wood of the table and if his nails had been just a little longer, he is sure he would have left marks. arthur’s pulse is spiking up, vision going blurry as he stares at the elegant ceiling of the library. 

your hand picks up speed and your mouth fully wraps around his tip, sucking and licking at the sensitive head, revelling in the way his legs shake. how badly he must want to thrust up into your heat. quickly, you sink down deeper on him, hand getting replaced by your mouth, taking him all the way until his tip hits the back of your throat. arthur coughs to hide the moan he’s been holding back.

the hottest girl in the world is currently sucking my cock in the fucking library. what kind of porno did i stumble into?! 

arthur knows he won’t be able to last long, not with the tension and the sheer danger of the situation. if you get caught, both of you could be banned from the library. it somehow makes it all the more exciting. and when your tongue presses against his shaft as you deepthroat his cock, arthur thinks maybe he doesn’t even need the library. if he could stay down your throat forever he would be the happiest man on earth.

your throat restricts around him, which is bad considering you’re in a very quiet place. the sound of your wet heat around arthur’s cock echoes through the halls of the library and you stop for a second, hoping it wasn’t too loud. you wait for a few moments, ears concentrating on any other sounds, but when there are none you slowly move back, beginning to bop your head on his cock. 

“shit.” arthur breathes out, head falling back forward. he sees you around his cock now, the way your mouth moves on it, your eyes meeting his as you do. it must be the single most hottest thing he has ever seen. arthur brings one of his hands down, finally fulfilling the fantasy of curling his fingers in your hair while you suck him off. with his mouth dropped and his eyes glossy, he watches you take him over and over, tongue and cheeks pleasuring him like they’ve never done anything else. 

his hips shutter underneath you and he can’t keep himself from thrusting up, can’t help that the second his cock slips down your throat again his balls tighten dangerously. 

“g-gonna cum, f-fuck.” he stutters as he comes, hot, white spurts of his essence gushing down your throat. you swallow it all like an absolute champ, eyes filled with tears whilst his cock is snug in your throat, vibrating with every spurt. 

when he’s done, he collapses back into the chair, chest heaving. and you let his cock fall from your mouth, wiping it with the back of your hand before happily climbing back onto your seat.

your eyes meet arthur’s again and the shy smile on his lips is enough to make you giggle. 

it’s safe to say, fifteen minutes later, you’re bent over the sink in the man’s bathroom with a hand pressed to your mouth as arthur gives you the best dicking of your life.

oh, how much you love the library.

____________________

taglist: @pretendyoucantseeme, @abbwhite08, @clarkeysbedchem, @liz140569, @clarkeyscvntymullet, @formulaal, @happyclifford join my taglist!

[cipheramnesia]

The end of childhood is something that's burned pretty permanently into my brain. It happened at the end of summer when I was about 11 years old. I returned to school, and felt like I had missed some kind of assigment. Somehow everyone other than me and a couple of my friends had got together and decided only basketball was cool. You had to show how good you were at running or jumping or putting things together on the asphalt and scoring points (pretty impressively sometimes). But anyway no one told me I was supposed to be in basketball bootcamp so I showed up and was immediately placed into the uncool basket selected for general mockery and all that jazz. So that feeling of having no idea why everyone I knew had become different and everything I liked was now officially lame just stuck with me. I was so very confused. I still don't know what happened if I'm honest - how everyone self selected and just knew it, but I didn't.

Anyway, none of those guys knew they were bullies, and I grew up from a nerdy boy to a big tiddy horror chick. So it goes.

A few years ago I heard a song called "Boys Will Be Bugs" by Cavetown. It wasn't the kind of music I usually listened to, but it resonated with me intensely. It felt exactly like I felt back then, it was dead on my childhood feelings. I was like yeah, this song really speaks to me and my childhood experience, especially with the context of being trans femme and taking a really long time to come into that, being a weird boy that liked bugs and was what they'd call sensitive or artistic. Yeah. Sometimes I like stuff a little off my own personal beaten path. It's good to do that kind of exploring.

Anyway, more recently there's this weird like, some music is for girls and some music is for boys (trans edition). Kinda similarly confusing to being 11 years old and discovering everyone had picked sides I didn't know existed, and apparently "Boys Will Be Bugs" is supposed to go on like the boys side (trans version), so I don't know. That's a weird thing to learn three decades later, just when I was starting to enjoy all the girlypop music I didn't get to listen to in the 80s, because it was on the girl's side (cis version). And it's been like pretty cool spending the last decade or so of transition like yeah, I'm finally free from the social shackles I put myself in. I can listen to the grindiest industrial noise all the way out to the pinkest of bubblegum pop and anywhere on the map. Music is about what you like and trying to find new stuff and expand your experience and all that. It's pretty cool to feel unconstrained, even if that stuff was in my head and imaginary.

But so anyway, I'm rambling. It's just a strange feeling that the things I feel and experience and enjoy and relate to as a woman end up on the side of another imaginary line that says I don't have those experiences. I mean, now at least I recognize that sort of thing as being some kind of trap other people put themselves in. So it's fine, I guess. I still feel like I got left out of the Official Trans Woman mailing list but that's like, y'know whatever, I've been left off the mailing list socially speaking my whole life so nothing new here per se. It's like a two nickel situation, this whole thing with people I know deciding there's a line and picking a side. It's weird that it happened twice, and worthless.

[simplyhale]

bed chem t.b. (18+)

tim bradford x fem! reader

summary; the anniversary of tim's divorce didn't have him in the happiest of moods, that was until he laid his eyes on you across the bar. who knew the two of you could have great bed chem?

notes; dividers are by @uzmacchiato l this is an amazing collab that i was able to do with the lovely @sleepymissy ! she had gotten a few asks about doing tim one-shots inspired by sabrina's short and sweet album and asked if i wanted to collab on one where i wrote the fluff and she did the smut. thus is how bed chem happened ! it has been an absolute blast and it turned out pretty cute if i don't say so myself. missy kept the smutt very normal and sweet so no crazy warnings besides the normal, wrap it before you tap it, etc. and who knows if yall really enjoy this then we might do another?

words; 4771

“who’s the cute guy with the wide blue eyes and the big bad mm?”

— 𝜗𝜚 * ｡⋆ ˖.

Tim Bradford isn’t an easy man to cheer up. 

Most know by now just to not bother him, allowing Tim to take it into his own hands with how he’s always done it; getting over it by not caring about it, or pushing it to the deepest part of himself possible. 

And in almost every case, it was the latter. 

But now, there is currently a third option that is making its way to him.

Lately, Lucy and Angela had been noticing Tim’s extra grumpiness, and after much going back and forth - and the fact that Nyla had searched it up - they came to the conclusion that it was the year anniversary of his divorce getting finalized. 

So, the two rounded up anyone they could and decided that what Tim needed was a night out at the bar.

Lucy is starting to worry that this actually is a bad idea. 

Maybe he isn’t ready yet, maybe he doesn’t like all the new attention either- Tim never truly likes a lot of attention on him, but damn, he’s especially quiet tonight. 

“Do you think he hates this?” 

Bailey, Angela, and Nyla heads turn to where Lucy’s big worried eyes are looking- a small seat away is Tim nursing a mid-strength beer in front of him, people-watching, of course.

“He seems like his normal self,” Angela waves her hand as she takes a sip of her drink. 

“He’s been on the same beer for the past thirty minutes.” Lucy tries to clarify, only to huff when Nyla just shrugs her shoulders, clearly not thinking too much into it. 

Bailey places her hand onto Lucy's shoulder, “If you’re worried about him then go ask him. If he wants to leave then let him. Don’t overthink it.” She explains, a reassuring smile planted on her face before she goes over to where both John and Wesley are throwing darts.

Picking up her drink, Lucy takes a long sip out of it, trying to buy enough time to fully work herself up before poking the bear.

“Hey Tim!” She slides into the empty seat next to him, not even getting a glance. “Look, if you aren’t having a good time you can leave. I- well, me and Angela…no, I roped her into this.” She shakes her head. “What I mean is we all know what today is, and just thought that maybe you would want a night out…” She draws out her last word at the realization that he isn’t paying any type of attention. Her words quite literally are going through one ear and out the other.

Following where he is currently staring is a duo on the other side of the bar, glancing back at him to see that he’s mindlessly tapping the bartop—keeping his eyes steady on you. 

She knows it’s you because when you take down your hair, slipping the black hair tie around your wrist, he stops tapping the bar and hitches his breath—almost as if he’s putting all his concentration onto you and you alone.

“Or…is it because you want to leave the bar with the hottie in the sheer dress?”

“What?” His head practically snaps towards her at the mere mention of you, the tips of his ear starting to redden.

Lucy presses her lips together, trying and failing at hiding her smile, excited to see she was wrong and he is actually moving on. “Why don’t you go and talk to her? Maybe give her your number and see what happens?”

Tim thinks about her words, looking back over to where you’re now laughing at something your friend had told you, now secretly hoping that it’s him making you laugh just to see you smile like that again; the type that reaches the corner of your eyes. 

But…maybe he doesn’t deserve to hear your laugh, to be the reason for your wide smile. Maybe he actually isn’t supposed to move on now. He could now go at least a few months without thinking about his failed attempt at a marriage, but with that crash and burn of a relationship what’s to say that his next one wouldn’t end up the same way? 

The only question is…how long would it take before it would happen? 

He couldn’t do that to you- bring you into a cluster fuck you never even knew had happened to begin with.

“I’m gonna give her your number!” This sentence, plus the sight of Lucy hopping off the stool and strolling towards you, nearly sends Tim into cardiac arrest. 

“Don’t you da—” 

Though it’s too late, because Lucy is long gone, and she watches your friend lean in towards you before walking off in the direction of the bathrooms. 

Now’s her moment to play matchmaker. 

Smiling sweetly as she takes your friend's place, earning back from you as you tilt your head curiously towards her. “Uhm, hi! My friend over there was too nervous to actually come up and talk to you. So here I am!”

You slowly turn your gaze to a very flushed Tim, who is giving a panic death glare mix towards Lucy. But, once he realises your eyes have landed on him, he smiles like an idiot, giving a small nod. 

He quickly knits his brows together, why did he do that? 

You chuckle lightly, quickly scrunching up your nose before turning your attention back to Lucy who is, once again, failing at hiding her excitement. “And I take it that you want me to write down my number?”

She nods her head, shifting her weight onto her other leg, “Yes — if you’re okay with that. I can promise you that he isn’t a creep. He's more like a…big softie.”

You laugh at her words, staring at her for a moment. 

You can’t explain why you know to trust her, but you feel deep in your bones that she’s right. No red flag is being shown to you at this moment.

Besides, if anything bad were to happen, you’ll just block him and be done with it.

Reaching over the bar, you take one of the white paper napkins along with a discarded pen, writing your name down followed by your number. 

Once you finish the small love heart written next to the last digit, you hand it to Lucy and watch as she practically skips back towards Tim's direction. 

Dropping the pen back behind the bar, you fiddle with your neck lace, awaiting for your friend to come back. 

That’s when your phone buzzes, face down on the counter top. 

You halt, somewhat hoping it’s the guy that you’ve just given your number to. 

Only, you’re met with disappointment when you realise it’s your friend. 

BESTIE <3

hey girl! so sorry to cut our night short but i’m gonna head home just got a bad wave of cramps :(

You respond to her, telling her to let you know when she made it home.

Wait, a minute-

Why are you so disappointed it isn’t the random man you haven’t even said a single word to?

Placing your phone back onto the counter face down - the photo of your cat shining through your clear case - you begin to reach for your glass, but your attention is brought back to your phone as it buzzes again. 

And again-

-And again. 

You nearly choke at what you think is your friend- is she okay?

However, you’re proven wrong.

UNKNOWN

Hey this is Tim, was wondering if I could buy you a drink? No pressure, just some casual penetration … CONVERSATION! Fuckk I meant conversation

Pressing your lips together, you smile at yourself before replying.

YOU

Auto correct really knows how to make a penetration interesting…

Looking over at him, you watch as his expression grows from furrowed brows (had he made the wrong impression?), to his face lighting up just as your response comes through. And his smile only grows with each word he reads of your message, laughing and shaking his head lightly.

In that moment you know you have your claws in him, and when he glances up at you just in time for you to send a wink his way, well, that’s all the motivation he needs to get out of his chair. 

Watching him- Tim make his way from the opposite end of the bar all the way around to the spot next to you, you quickly down the last remaining sip in your glass as you rest your elbow on the counter. Using it to prop your face up. 

“I have to say that was a great first impression!” You shout over the music.

He laughs with a small shake of his head, “Yeah, I only use those on the special ones.”

Raising your brows, you tilt your head, “Oh, so I’m special?” 

His brows knitted before leaning in towards you, clearly not hearing what you had said. So you repeat yourself, which, in return, you receive the sound of his laughter again.

That laugh causes your stomach to flutter and your mind to race with thoughts that would make the devil blush. 

Looking around, you notice that almost two bus loads of people have funneled into the bar. Along with their chattering and music, there isn’t any way for you two to have a proper conversation- you know, the respectful ‘let’s get to know each other!’ before you climb into his bed. 

“Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?” 

Tim nearly breaks his neck from how fast he nods at you, mumbling over different ‘yes’s’ and ‘yeah’s’. 

Getting up and making sure to grab your phone before taking his hand into yours, you lead him through the crowded room. Walking outside, you two pass the smoking zone into a more secluded section where not a hint of being can be seen. 

You rest against the wall, and Tim finds his place next to you.

“Your friend is nice.” You start, moving a piece of your hair away from your gloss-coated lips, “A little bold, but nice.”

Tim huffs a soft laugh before he scratches the back of his neck, “Ah, Lucy…yeah- look, she thought taking me out to his bar would help me feel better.”

“Was she right?” You tilt your head, angling on your side into the brick wall as you scan his face.

Tim does the same, taking a step close enough that his warmth breath mingles with yours. His eyes drop down to the concrete, thinking. And for a moment, you expect him to reply with a ‘yes’, but-

“I don’t know.” Tim starts low., “It’s been a year since my divorce and it’s been…weird getting back out there, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything, and he must notice your overt silence because he quickly interferes. 

“Not that I’m still in love with her! God, no-” He winces, waving his hand around, “Nothing like that. It’s not like I hate her either, I’m happy things are over be–”

“You haven't done anything with anyone since the divorce…have you?” 

For a second he shuts his mouth, only for Tim to press his lips together before nodding in defeat. “How’d you know?” 

You shrug, “You’ve got that look- like you’re still trying to figure life out again.” As if you’ve known the type of person he is, you quickly hold your hands up, “Before you get defensive at all, just know there’s no judgement from my end. You’re safe to talk to me.”

And Tim might just believe that.

He takes a moment, trying to pick the right words so as to not scare you off, even worse: say something that would turn you off. 

“I guess I just engulf myself fully into work.” He sighs, “That way I don’t have to deal with…everything.”

“What do you do?”

There was the question he knew would follow up with.

“LAPD.” He doesn’t take his eyes off you, reading you with such an intensity. 

It’s the type of answer that makes or breaks people but seeing as your brows raise with a sense of excitement…mischievous, Tim might just be safe. 

“You know,” You start, unable to hide the smirk on your lips as you reach out and fondle with the hem of his shirt, “I’ve found that some secrets are better kept under lock and key.” Your voice is only a murmur, but looking up at him now, you can’t help but grin even wider as his skin - his stupidly beautiful skin - flushes.

Now he really trains on you, watching even the smallest of your movements- how you shift one foot from the other, even the hint of change to your breath. Even so he darts his focus down to your mouth as you lick your lips, then right back up to your wandering eyes.

So, you take another step up to him, getting a strong smell of his cologne, which might just knock you over with how strong it is- cedarwood, rosemary, musk. 

Reaching out for his hand, you slowly drag your nails up from his knuckles to his wrist, all the way towards his bicep. 

With your voice filled with lust, and lashes batting, you simply ask: “You wanna get out of here?” 

— 𝜗𝜚 * ｡⋆ ˖.

By the time you’re halfway into the door, Tim’s already onto you. 

Not that you’re complaining or anything, it is what you wanted after all.

With a hand grasping your waist, he’s pulling you into a kiss so soft yet so hungry- an emotion Tim’s been longing to feel since…forever. And maybe it’s the gloss still tinting your lips, or perhaps it’s the lingering champagne too, but God, you taste so sweet.

Without leaving the warmth of the kiss, Tim shuts the front door behind him, followed by the click of the door’s lock. Reluctantly, he pulls away, “A drink?” He asks into the midst of another selfish peck.

You shake your head, your breath still heavy against his as you meet his very own baby blues, “Tim,” You cock your head to the side, “Do I look like I want a drink?”

He takes a second to induce what you’ve said, his attention trailing from the heave of your chest, to your quick breaths, and your eyes- so needy, so true.

Fuck, the way you’re looking at him is everything he didn’t know he needed, and he’s obsessed.

“No,” He chokes, though a smile curves the edges of his mouth before he’s grasping one of your hands into his own, guiding you through the warmth of his home. “Ignore the mess, wasn’t expecting company of any sorts.” He murmurs, a shy blush showcasing on the high points of his cheekbones.

But ironically, it isn’t even messy. In fact, this may just be the cleanest house owned by a man could ever be. Sure, the odd dog toy finds its place on the floorboards, but with how homely you feel - especially when you see the light blue throw draped over his navy couch as you walk past it - you can’t help but smile.

“Please,” You turn to face him, and move your hand to wrap it around his bicep just as he begins to open his bedroom door. “Your home is beautiful. And plus, I’m focusing on…” You eye him up and down, just to really get your point across, "something else, y’know?”

“Oh?” And his voice is so fucking soft and endearing even as he raises his eyebrows when he glances at you before inviting you into his personal space. “You might have to spell it out for me, darling- got no clue what you’re talking about.”

Of course he fucking does, even when your palm gently pushes Tim down onto his own bed, followed by the gentle song of your laughter, “You! Tim, fuck’s sakes.” You shake your head, bending down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, "You’re nice to look at.”

And God damn, you aren’t wrong. Because by now, Tim’s widened his legs and he’s staring up at you with heavy eyes that are so inviting- and it would be incredibly rude to deny his offer.

Tim lets out a breathless chuckle as you take the leap when you hook one leg over his lap to sit on top of him and fuck, he’s comfortable. 

“Could say the same about you- that sheer dress is doing numbers on me.” He mutters, low and gravelly before reaching his right hand up to slide a single digit beneath one of your dress’ straps. 

The movement is tender- minimal, even, but oh, does it make you hitch your breath.

You peer down your body slowly, and a small smirk creeps up to your lips when you watch him do the same to the other neglected strap. Then, with a small grind onto the bulge Tim’s been fighting to keep sane for the last hour, you steer just a little closer to his face, “Take it off me?”

Tim wouldn’t have considered it a question, more like a demand than anything. But still, he lets out a shaky breath, “Fuck- yes, of course.” 

And he doesn’t waste a second before he’s guiding you to lay on the plushness of his mattress.

Sure, his bed is soft- but damn, was Tim softer. However, any thoughts are easy to fade away when he leans over you as he begins gliding your straps down with a touch so soothing yet blazing, and with every inch of skin exposed to Tim’s sore eyes, a wet kiss welcomes it.

Tim makes sure to look after you before he begins to undress himself- with an extra hand of care from you as well when he gives you the honours of unbuttoning his pants. Though you can’t stop yourself from halting in the motion of his zipper when you peer up just in time for Tim to tug his Henley over his shirt.

“Holy shit,” You breathe out, already feeling the pool of arousal soaking your thighs at the sight of his muscles flexing beneath the bedroom’s dim lamp, warming his skin to golden from where it stands in the corner. “Fuckin’ hell, Tim- you’re one handsome man.”

Fuck.

Something about you complimenting Tim with only a string of curse words is enough to make his neck redden. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he was admired like this. 

Of course, he knows he’s an attractive man; he’s worked his ass off to earn his toned physique and it’s evident in the stares and hushes of comments he’s received since the duration of being an officer.

But that genuine flush of adoration in your face is worth more than anything, and Tim knows from then on that you deserve the absolute world.

“Got nothin’ on you,” He gravelly replies back, biceps tensing as he finishes undressing himself, “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

And now it’s your time to blush heavily. Though, when you drag your eyes down from his baby blues, what may just be more intimidating than Tim’s words is his cock straining in his boxers. 

Jesus, it seems your manifestations that he was oversizedworked well- too fucking well.

With your mouth hanging low and wide eyes gawking, an ego-boosted Tim takes advantage of your silence by leaning close enough to your space that he’s hovering just over your silky-soft skin. And as he helps to wrap your legs around his lower back, the delightfulness of your perfume aromatises Tim’s senses- and he can’t help but inhale just an extra couple of seconds than normal to intoxicate himself in it.

When an act so intimate like sex comes into play, everyone has their own different niches. And if there’s something you’ve easily noticed by now with Tim Bradford, it’s that he’s a sweet talker. So when he mutters, “This okay, pretty girl?” as he begins to glide himself inside of you, you can’t but let out a shaky giggle in the midst of your breathlessness.

He pauses inside you, meeting your eyes, “What?”

“You just-” You squeeze his shoulders, partially out of reassurance and also to help soothe the stretch down below, “-you talk so sweet when you’re literally about to fuck me. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” Tim angles his head to the side, slowly pushing into you deeper until he bottoms out, his cock twitching in delight at the sound of your hiccup when his hips meet yours. “What’s wrong with that? Can’t imagine speakin’ to you any other way.”

Your heart flutters, “Didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.” And you sneak a kiss onto the corner of his lips just as you tighten your hold on his shoulders. Then, you whisper: “I like it.”

You may just be the death of Tim; your voice, your comforting eyes, your wide smile, your fucking smell, and now the warmth of your pussy as you engulf him when he finally starts to grind himself back into you. 

“God damn, baby-” A small groan escapes Tim’s throat, perfectly in sync to the faint sound of your moan when he begins to set a rhythm- nothing rough or fast, just intimate and kind. Something worth taking his time with. Something he can really appreciate.

Both of your lips meet once again in the midst of the heated moment, though it’s less polite when you’re fighting against the friction of movement when Tim continues to slide himself inside your plush walls, along with the gasps that often leave your mouths when each thrust hits that perfect spot.

“Shit- Tim,” You mewl out when he leans down to your exposed neck, providing attention to it when he trails erratic kisses to your skin, never once missing a beat to his pace. “Are you…fuck- are you free next week?"

You can feel his laughter vibrating against your skin, followed by the actual deep, shaky noise itself when he lifts his head up to stare at you, “Y’wanna do this again with me?”

Oh, how his esteem has blossomed. 

You grin cheekily, breaths and fragrances mixing together when you pull his face closer by the swift tug of your hand to the nape of his neck. “Why not? I’m sensing our-” You gasp when he fucks into you, “-camaraderie is great.”

Tim huffs amusingly, placing his forehead on yours- just in time to groan when he fucking feels your arousal coating him, and the sound of squelching from below, “Friends fuck each other, hey?”

“Well, we gotta start somewhere...” A particularly deep thrust has your breath hitching. You pull back, allowing yourself to look up at his heavy-lidded eyes before you blink. 

“Will you let a friend ride you too?”

Tim would have come right then and there if it wasn’t for the American presidents he was listing in his head.

“God damn- be my guest, darling.” He groans loudly, pulling himself out from you before he’s turning the both of you around. And you don’t waste a second before you’re crawling on top of him, finding comfort once again on his lap. 

Tucking your feet beneath his thighs, you begin to align yourself with the tip of his cock to your entrance, and Tim murmurs something about how ‘you’re gonna be the death of him’.

Then, as you engulf him inch by inch, your fingers press into his chest with brows furrowing in pure delight at the new angle.

Tim squeezes your thighs, “There you go,” He whispers, watching you in fucking awe, “just like that, sweetheart.”

You start slow, much like his pace before- intimate and kind. And as you fill yourself with his cock, his hands move from your thighs to your ass as he helps guide you up and down on him. All the while, he’s whispering praises to you while he cants his head forward to kiss each hardened nipple with his wet mouth.

“Doing so well for me,” He murmurs against your skin when he feels you clench around him, and keeps one hand sturdy on the curve of your ass when his dominant fingers brush back to the front of your body. Then, with a suck on his thumb to gather saliva, Tim lowers his wet finger on your neglected clit.

The following sounds of your pleasure is like music to his ears when his thumb moves in circular motions.

“Tim…” You draw his name out in an aching moan, and it only encourages him to flick your clit more just as you drive yourself harder onto him. “So, so good- shit.”

“You got it,” Tim then rises his hips up to meet yours, beginning a pace faster than yours that it causes your breath to catch, your hands grasping his shoulders tightly as he fucks himself up into you with such an intensity that you can’t even speak, can’t even breathe.

So instead, you lean down to kiss him, all teeth and tongue as you two moan to each hard thrust- and when Tim fastens his thumb to your clit, that’s when you feel it.

You pull back, voice shaky as you peer down at him, “Oh, I’m so close-” An admittance that Tim is so fucking delighted to hear from your pretty, ruby lips that still glisten with mixed saliva.

“I know, baby-” Tim huffs, muscles tensing with every glide of his cock that is pounded into you, “-I got you. Come with me, sweet girl.” 

And he keeps his promise, because when the touch of his fingers on your aching clit mixes so perfectly to the gentle lowness of Tim’s voice, it’s enough to make you fall off the edge- and he falls with you. 

Your name slips from his mouth just as a long moan escapes you, a hot fever washing through your head just when you feel the hot spill of his seed inside you.

“Fuck- that’s it, sweetheart.” He groans out, his cock twitching against the slow roll of your hips as you both ride out your orgasms.

Long exhales fill the warm air as you two finally finish and you can’t help yourself when you collapse onto his chest with a long sigh. 

Amongst the heap of clothes scrambled across the carpet floor, and bedsheets ruffled, the both of you lay peacefully in the midst of it all- dripping in sweat and sex and you’re still inside of him.

But none of that matters, not when Tim is so grounding; with his chest broad and cozy, and his heart thumping in rhythm to yours as you both breathe in sync, it all feels too good to not let go.

“So,” You start once your breathing steadies, finally lifting Tim’s softened cock out of you as you sit back up- but Hell, you’re not ready to leave his lap just yet. Then, you lift Tim’s left hand and take it into your own, fiddling with his long fingers delicately. “You didn’t say no to next week…”

Tim blinks down at your fingers playing with his and back up to your eyes- heavy, exhausted. He gently smiles, his heart beating in a way that feels right…feels domestic, “No, I didn’t.” 

Tim lifts his free hand up, brushing past your jawline until he meets the loose strands of your hair, and he gently tucks them behind your ear. His fingers halt by your face for a second, allowing his eyes to appreciate you before he slowly glides down to where the mess of your hair meets your shoulder, and he’s pushing the heap back to expose the curve of your neck.

He leans closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your collarbone, “I would love to see you again.” He admits quietly, stubble tickling your sensitive skin as he grazes his lips up to your jawline. He plants another kiss there, “And I don’t just mean seeing you for…this,” And finally, he moves to your chin where his lips linger on your face, only to reluctantly pull away so he can look up at you. “Let me take you on a date.”

You soften under his embrace, and a smile grows widely on you before you raise Tim’s hand your fingers had been playing with up to your mouth. There, you kiss his knuckles, and you faintly nod, “I think I’d like that a lot.”

And God, what a way to make a man feel better.

— 𝜗𝜚 * ｡⋆ ˖.

CHEN

sooo how did the date go? … helloooooo … oh OHH HEY TIM BE GETTING SOME ‼️‼️ 🤪😝🤩🥳 heh … good bed chem ?

[4ranghaes]

dirty mouth!myung jaehyun x reader [smut, fem!reader]

a/n: headcanon that jaehyun when he’s in a dom!mode just says the filthiest things to you. not even during sex he’s just shameless in his words all the time. he just wants to see you squirm and he’ll say anything to try and make it happen. pervert.

warnings: dom!jae, sub!fem!reader, reader has big tits (sorry not sorry!), he talks about the other members in a sexual way lmao

02:06 - “hey baby, what are you still doing up?” jaehyun cooed, walking into his bedroom after a late night practise, where you resided in his bed.

you quickly checked the time, biting your lip, “fuck i had no idea it was that late. oh, jae you must be so tired!”

“i’m okay,” he shrugged, a smirk taking over his face as you sat up in bed. your body covered only by a tank top and an old pair of lacy panties, jaehyun couldn’t get enough. “fuck, my girl, dressed so fucking pretty for me.”

you giggled at the sudden harsh words, “okay… so big boy’s really not tired, huh?”

“big boy?” your boyfriend repeated, smirking, “you think about my cock that much?”

you rolled your eyes, scoffing, “jaehyun—”

“hey, who do you think has the biggest cock in the band?” he posed the question to you, coming and climbing on the bed, kneeling over your body.

“i–i don’t— i’m not sure, jae—”

“fuck look at your huge tits, jesus, i can’t get enough of them,” he scoffed, “your body is so fucking gorgeous, y/n. i think about you all the time.”

you smiled, cupping his face, “i think about you too, jae.”

“yeah? not like i do,” he dismissed your comment, his brain taken over by thoughts of you and only you as he took your hand off his face, pressing a kiss to the skin before pinning it down to the mattress. “i think about you squirming under me. about you humping your tight, wet pussy on my cock. jesus, it feels so good, i think i might have the best pussy in the world, all for me. isn’t it, my girl? all for me. and your tits, my god, i could loose myself in your boobs. i think about motorboating them all the time. woonhak does too, you know.”

“don’t mention him now!” you exclaimed in shock, watching as your boyfriend lowered his head to your cleavage, leaving kisses on the fat. a quick tug on the material of your tank top had your boobs spilling out the material.

“don’t worry, you’re the only thing on my mind,” he spoke, voice deep, “what do you say, princess? you want my fat cock in your little hole? i mean… you couldn’t get enough of it this morning, could you?”

you whined, body squirming as his knees caged you in.

“answer me.”

“yes, jaehyun! please, i need your– i need your cock!” you responded, squirming of embarrassment.

“where?”

how could he talk like this and have no reaction?! you never understood. “i-in my pussy– please! just fuck me, jae!”

he smirked, licking up your cleavage before pressing a kiss to your lips, “good girl.” he flipped your bodies over so was laying on the bed, your thighs straddling his body.

“go on. i want to watch as you fuck yourself on my hard cock. god you make me so fucking hard it’s ridiculous, y/n. you don’t even know.”

[madsgotmadagain]

Writing Love letters:Yandere! Marko x Reader

Summary: You, a hopeless romantic, start to receive anonymous love letters in your mailbox. How sweet!It becomes less sweet, however, when your secret admirer starts to admire you a little too closely. And creepily. And may or may not be human but hey whose to say-

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: Stalking, feeling watched/paranoia, yandere behavior, blood, forced blood drinking/forced vampire turning, death of nameless characters, being held/pinned down, Marko cuts himself to feed you blood, mean Marko (he loses his temper, sort of apologizes?), cops being useless and snarky

If you catch any i may have not mentioned or tagged properly, let me know and I'll add them! I think this is mostly it though

Other important tags: Yandere/obsessive Marko, Italian Marko (uses of Italian pet names), reader uses she/her pronouns but body is not mentioned, oneshot, 8.3k words, this work is cross published on Ao3!!

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You thought the first couple letters were sweet, really. If anything, the first few were just the tiniest bit. They showed up in your mailbox one day alongside the other bills and ads shoved in there by your mailman. You figured whoever was sending them wasn't using the postal service, however. The letters were anonymous, no name or return address or even a stamp on the back. Just “mi amore” written on the back of the envelope, and a wax seal keeping it shut.

You didn't see them all until you got home from work that night though. Waking up late left now time to collect your mail before you scrambled off to work. It was all too perfect for him, though.

"A wax seal. How fancy,” You thought when you saw it. Flipping the letter back and forth before you walked back into your home with the rest of your mail. Tossing it all except for the letter onto the coffee table, flopping down onto your sofa. Despite the exhaustion from work that day, this little envelope was sparking your interest. Thus, feeling the all consuming weight of curiosity, you carefully lift up the seal and take out the paper inside. Feeling the toothy grip of sketchbook paper on your fingertips as you pull it out, starting to read.

.……..……..……..……..……..……..……..……......................

“Mi Amore,”

“Seeing you working on the boardwalk has become the highlight of my nights. Passing by you fills me with emotions I haven't touched in a long time. Seeing your smile as you deal with whatever customer is talking to you, even when they don't deserve it- Dio mio, what I would give to get you to smile at me. A real, genuine smile in my direction. I would actually die right then and there.”

“I'm writing to tell you I love you. You have become my sun, the light of my life, my purpose - Mio Sole, I am helpless to my heart. Impossibly attracted to you, struggling to hold myself back from trying to sweep you off your feet and take you right then and there. I need an outlet. So I thought, hey, letters.”

“I need you to know how crazy I am about you. Even if you don't know me right away, or don't feel the same right now, you should know. I would kill for you. I would die for you. And right now, I live for you, my love.”

“Forever yours,

Tuo ammiratore”

..……………………………………………………………………….

“... Oh, wow,” is all you can think to say. Your face flushing red, a small smile on your lips. You couldn't believe what you were reading. Sure, you had gotten a love note or two in school, but it was always the typical, ‘Do you like me yes-no-box’ note. Never had you ever received anything like this. A confession of pure, unfiltered admiration. It was so fantastical, a plot plucked straight out of a cheesy rom-com, or some modern day period film. And for a single, hopeless romantic, it was an absolute dream come true.

You had no idea what this would bring. You had no idea that, as you sat on your sofa, giddily re-reading your letter, making sure you hadn't misread anything, someone was outside your windows. Smiling to himself as he watches you, greenish-grey eyes bore into you, past your body, staring at your soul.

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And so, as time went on, you got more letters. Each as romantic and lovingly crafted as the next. You even got to learn more about your secret admirer; for example, he was a bit of an artist. Small doodles scrawled into the margins of the pages, little hearts and doodles of whatever he was talking about scattered around the poetic lines of devotion. Once he even stuck in a whole separate paper in the envelope; a portrait of you.

“I tried to draw you last night,” He explained at the end of his writing. “It came out alright, I think - better than I thought it would. You can only do so much when your only references are memories. Still, one day, I'll get to see you up close, and I'll find a moment to sit you down and draw you as well as I know I could.”

He told you small stories about him and his friends, who you learned he lived with, though details beyond that were obscured from you. You had no clue where they all lived, just the assumption that it had to be here, somewhere in Santa Carla.

He admitted at one point that he started telling them all about you. “I want them to like you too,” he had written. “Not in the same way, of course, but I want them to like you. And for you to like them. I don't know what I'd do if I introduced you all and you wouldn't get along. You're all way too important for me to give any of you up.”

You also learned that he wasn't one of your coworkers. Given you only really went on the boardwalk for work, you thought maybe your secret admirer worked alongside you. But after asking around, nobody had any idea what you were talking about, not letting out even the tiniest slip that could hint they were lying.

For the time being, you decided to just let it be. Reveling in the affectionate lines and messages thrown your way. Basking in the possibility of a blooming romance, positively smitten for someone you hadn't even met before.

But then things started to get a bit… strange.

The letters kept coming, yes, with their wax seals and poetic declarations of love. But alongside them, other sorts of lines were written. Small phrases or comments that made you read again, their context causing slight confusion or concern.

“I saw you dealing with some creep last night,” He wrote once. The words starting to indent themselves into the paper, signs that the author was getting heavy handed. “It took everything in me to not go in there and deal with him myself right at that moment. Make sure he never looked at or talked to you like that ever again.”

You remembered the guy he was talking about. Just another punk from a gang prowling the boardwalk, looking to start up trouble. Trouble just so happened to mean bothering you at work, trying (and failing) to flirt, looking at your body like you were a slab of meat. It was definitely uncomfortable, but you managed to deal with him fine enough until he and his gang left the store. Praying he'd move on and you'd never have to see him again.

And that's just what happened, miraculously. The punk never came back into the store. Hell, none of them did. After that night, it was as if they never existed.

You couldn't help but think about the letter when you walked past his missing poster. A part of you suspected if your anonymous admirer had anything to do with it - but you quickly brushed it off, chuckling to yourself.

No, it couldn't be, you insisted to yourself. People went missing all the time in Santa Carla, it was nothing new. The guy probably just got into some stuff he shouldn't have and shit went bad. Still, the idea amused you whenever you'd think it at the time. Your secret letter writer, a guardian angel, batting away creepy boardwalk men so you didn't have to deal with them.

If only you knew your guardian angel had fists and fangs coated in blood that night. Laughing violently as the punk’s screams muffled into choking on his own blood, then started to stop. Watching with glee as the life faded from his eyes, while the rest of his gang picked off the others. Really, he would've kept him around longer if he had more time. Make him really scream, break a few extra bones, rip off just a bit more skin- But the rest of the boys were already finishing up, and this guy wasn't going to last much longer anyways. Thus, he sunk in his fangs, sucking the delinquent of every drop of blood.

Dinner had never tasted so sweet.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Yeah, no, this was definitely getting weird. Like, really weird.

The letters frequency slowed a bit; you went from a letter a day to one every few days. You wouldn't really think about it too much if that was it. Unfortunately, it wasn't.You felt like you were being watched. Particularly, at night, though it didn't matter where. You'd feel eyes on you at work, walking to your car, driving back home - even your house wasn't free from the creeping feeling that you weren't as alone as you thought you were.

You tried to brush it off. Justify it as you just being too alert after that creepy conversation with the punk. But still, that was weeks ago, and you were still feeling eyes blasting into you everywhere you went. It felt like as soon as the sun went down, the eyes were back. Night was no longer just a time of day for you; it meant constantly being on edge, waiting for something - or someone, even - to take an opportunity to try something.

The letters weren't helping either. Small bits that made you tilt your head had evolved past just being peculiar. Now, the words on the page were just plain creepy, and definitely not helping your anxieties.

He talked about things you hadn't mentioned to anyone. Intimate details about yourself and your life you intentionally kept under wraps. Writing about your friends outside of work, about the places you drive past on your way home (you tried a new route the other day, the letters started mentioning the new shops and streets you drove past).

The letters you once saw as a comfort, a distraction from long nights at work, we're now furthering your fears. What started as a cute little way to work up the courage to talk to you morphed into what felt like stalking you.But it wasn't until this incident that you were positive that something was very, very wrong.

..……………………………………………………………………….

"Mi Amore,”

“I really missed seeing you at work yesterday.”

(You had called off sick the last few nights. Your fears got the better of you, so you told your boss you couldn't make it. She was disgruntled, but she took it, so you had been keeping yourself at home for a bit.)

“Walking by the place and not seeing you just- felt wrong. Hopefully by the time you're reading this, you're back to work and I'm seeing you normally again. Not that you not going to work is stopping me much."

"Regardless, just rest up, amore. You're going to need it once you're back in the swing of things. In the meantime, I'll just settle for having to take the ride out. But I do have to admit, you look really cute like this - wearing those baggy shirts and pants, your hair all messy and tangled, all sleepy all the time. Eventually I'll get to wake up beside you and see you all disheveled like that. Everyday. Forever. It'll be perfect.”

“Get some rest, amore,”

“Forever yours,

Tuo ammiratore”

..……………………………………………………………………….

You reread the last paragraph about ten times, confused and a bit anxious. You hadn't gone out in your pajamas since elementary school. Especially not to the boardwalk of all places. Where you worked, where people you worked with or god forbid your boss could see you? Absolutely not.

He shouldn't be able to describe your pajamas.

You tried to calm down a bit, think through this logically. He probably just assumed, right? I mean, plenty of people wear baggy clothes to bed - you weren't special for doing that. Especially considering right now, everyone you knew thought you were sick.

Still, the feeling of being observed still hangs in the air, definitely not helping your nerves. Trying to calm down, you walk over to the window, figuring some fresh air would calm your nerves. Maybe you knew you really just wanted to check for something. To be positive everything was fine and you were thinking too hard about a few dumb lines in a somewhat strange letter.

But it wasn't. You open your curtains, then your windows. Taking a breath, tired, half lidded eyes look over your yard. Moving them across the land, into the woods that surrounded your home.

That's when you see it.

It's only there for a few moments. You saw it, blinked, and it was gone. But it was there. Even but for a fleeting second, it was there.

A figure stood in your yard. A human figure, a person was in your yard, standing in the trees. Despite being covered in shadows, the pale moonlight managed to barely illuminate their face. Just enough for you to catch the knowing smirk on their lips and the dangerous glint in their eyes, which almost seemed to glow a sickly yellow.

Your heart stops, your skin paling as you quickly slam your windows shut. Running around your house, doing the same to the rest of them. Then drawing all the curtains. Then checking your locks.

That was the nail in the coffin for you. You called your boss again, asked to switch off the night shift. Again, she was annoyed, but she said she'd look into it. You may not get your full paycheck, though, since you were running out of sick days. You told her that was fine, and you'd be there once you got your new hours. You hung up.

Once you checked to see whoever was there wasn't there anymore, you calmed down a little. Enough to realize all this started happening after you started getting the love letters. That everything was getting creepier and creepier alongside them.

Thus, you stopped picking them up. At first, you wouldn't even touch them, letting the papers all pile up in your mailbox. But then they increased in frequency again, and it turns out letting mail build up wasn't practical when you still had bills and other letters coming in. So instead, you just threw them out as soon as you got them. Got all your mail, leafed through to find the important stuff, then tossed everything else in your garbage bin.

If you weren't reciprocal, he'd lose interest. That was the thought running through your head as you tossed envelope after envelope in the trash. That's what you thought when after a few weeks, the letters stopped coming.

If only you knew what you were doing.

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Marko was fucking pissed.

That's all he could feel as he wrote yet another letter; anger coursing through his veins. His grip on the pen so strong it felt as though it could snap in half at any moment. Considering the residue of dried ink on his fingers, it wouldn't be the first time tonight.

When you first saw him, he wasn't that upset. Easing you into his stranger ways of showing love was definitely the hardest part of his plan to get you to be with him. It made sense that you were a little freaked out. He just never thought you'd be this reactive.

You weren't at the boardwalk anymore. He and the other boys would walk past it on their way to cause havoc, and you weren't there. At first, he assumed you were sick. He sent his condolences for that. Went to make sure you were alright from a distance.

But days turned to two weeks, and you still weren't back. Eventually, Marko got up the courage to go inside and ask for you. And the cashier at the front desk (your work friend, he recognized), told him you weren't doing night shifts anymore. That you asked to be switched to the normal 9 - 5. Much to his confusion and slight betrayal.

Weren't doing night shifts? You asked to be changed? Excuse me? He thought he made it clear he wanted to see you at work. To you, he only got to see you in person at work.

He wrote to you about it. Vented his frustrations in the decision. Basically demanded you write something back this time, an explanation. Stuck it in your mailbox, along with several other letters you hadn't gotten yet (still faking sick, he guessed. You little liar.). And he waited. He waited a while. He waited until he got bored, cracked, and wrote another letter. Chuckling to himself as he drove to your place. God, look at you; cracking open his stubbornness with your own, baiting him into apologizing. God, he was whipped.

Then, he decided to hang back a moment after delivering your new letter; poke around a bit, see if anything interesting was happening around your home. It was night anyways, you were probably asleep. You wouldn't catch him. He had taken ‘poking around’ to mean, that night at least, you mean opening up your trash bin to see if you had thrown out anything neat. His usual smirk disappeared right off his face when he saw dozens of unopened letters staring back at him from the top of the bin.

You weren't replying because you were playing sick. You didn't know he wanted a response. Because you hadn't been reading his recent letters. You were throwing them away.

To say Marko was mad would be an understatement. He was livid. Fuming when he came back to the cave, quickly making his way to find a pen and paper. These past few weeks, he assumed you were just playing sick, but no. You were intentionally tossing all of his efforts and affections into the trash. You weren't even bothering to read them! You saw who sent it, and didn't even give him the light of day. After everything he said, everything he did for you, this was the thanks he got? The nerve! The fucking nerve you had!

“God damn…” he muttered, scribbling out the last few words before rewriting them. Not noticing the presence behind him until a hand is on his shoulder.

"Whatcha up to bud?” Paul's voice rings out throughout the cave, snapping Marko out of his rage-filled writing. Groaning, still upset, he turns to look at the other vampire.

"Writing to her,”

“Again?” Paul asks. Sitting down next to the curly-haired blond, tilting his head a little. “Didn't you, like, just get back from sticking one in her mail?”

“Took it back,” He huffed, looking back down at the envelope beside him. Then to the paper in front of him, glaring down at the words. “Changed my mind about some stuff. Got something else to say to her now.”

“Oh,” Paul starts. Sensing the tension in the air, he pulls out a cigarette, an offering. Marko's gloved hand pushes it away, shaking his head. “... did something happen? Your kinda-”

“I'm fine,” The shorter blond huffs. Finally setting down the pen as he reads over his paragraph, once, then twice. Satisfied, he stands up.

"You wanna come help me out with something?” He asks, back to smirking. Sensing the slight improvement in Marko's mood at the thought of this ‘something’, Paul nods. Watching Marko's smirk grow.

“Great, I'll go get David and Dwayne. Start up your bike. It'll be fun.”

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You woke at the sound of rumbling in the distance, confused and a bit grumpy. Glancing at the alarm on your nightstand, you concluded it was about two in the morning, which only added to your annoyance. What the hell is making that noise at two am?

It was bikers, you concluded. The sounds of revving and engines and wheels on the ground hinting at what was happening. Probably just some drunk bikers, going for a joyride too close to your house. Groaning, you just turn on your side, shove your pillow over your ears, and try to go back to bed.

But then the noises got closer. Then closer. Until the screeching of wheels and bike engines were ringing in your ears, and behind all of it, you could make out the howls of laughter from whoever was driving.

Your heart starts to race as you listen. What was happening? Why were these random bikers right outside of your house? You locked the doors before you went to bed, right?

A crash interrupts your anxious thinking; The shattering of glass. Followed by more hollering. Your blood runs cold.

Panic racing in your bones, you freeze. Listening with slight relief as you hear the engines and laughter fade into the distance. Unsure of what exactly just happened to you.

Cautiously, you move again. Rushing out of your room, making your way to where you heard the crash; the living room. Stopping, shivering when you see what was in there.

One of the large, main windows had shattered. Millions of tiny glass pieces litter across your carpet, and in the middle of it all, was a brick.A brick with paper tied around it.

You can feel yourself shake as you grab the brick. Pulling the string loose, you set the brick down on your coffee table, holding the paper in your hands as you make your way to the couch. Starting to read.

..……………………………………………………………………….

“Ok, that's it. I'm getting sick of your shit, (Y/n).”

The mention of your real name makes your stomach churn. Before this, he had always called you by a nickname, some term of endearment; mi amore, mio Sole, the whole shebang. The sudden use of your name is startling. Alongside the change in tone from the last time you had read from him.

“It was kinda cute at first. Seeing you all nervous, all jumpy - I liked seeing you squirm.”

“What isn't cute is ignoring me. Don't even deny it. I saw your trash.”

… shit.

“After everything we went through - everything I do for you - you think you can toss all my letters away? Like they all meant nothing to you? Like I meant nothing to you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You don't get to do that. You don't get to just walk away and pretend nothings been because I came on a little too strong and freaked you out a bit. I've been very clear about my intentions with you from the very start of all this; you're mine. I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”

“I'd do anything for you. You know that. I would die for you, I've lived my life every night for the last months thinking about you. Hell, I fucking killed for you! And you wanna back out now? No way in hell.”

“Obviously, we need to figure this out. Now. I'm done waiting for you to ‘be ready’. We tried playing this your way. Now, it's my turn.”“If you have plans tomorrow night, cancel them. You and I are going to have a nice, long talk about this.”

“ - Marko”

..……………………………………………………………………….

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You're screwed. Your actually fucking screwed. You have a crazy stalker who knows where you live, he's pissed at you, and he ‘wants to talk’.You're dead. You're actually, legitimately dead. He's going to come find you at home tomorrow, and he's going to kill you.You stare at the floor once you're done. The glass is still scattered across it. It's a miracle you haven't gotten cut yet.

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"What do you mean there's nothing you can do?!” You say, glaring at the officer across from you. The man sighs, taking another sip of his coffee as he looks you over.

“ma'am, for the last time, we don't exactly have a lot of evidence to go off of-”

“What more evidence do you need?! My window got smashed in! With this brick! The guy's name is on the note attached to it, for fucks sake!”

The cop just scoffs again, watching you slowly inch closer and closer to snapping. You had come to the station once you got off work, the safety of the sun calming your nerves enough to leave home. Assuming you'd just have to tell them what happened, fill out some paperwork, and the cops would catch your stalker so you could sleep easy.

Unfortunately, you forgot that the Santa Carla police force is utterly incompetent. You've been here for hours, and literally nothing has changed.

“Ma'am, we already looked for Markos in your system, we looked the paper and the brick you brought in,” the cop starts, his own voice indicating he was also on his last nerve. “And we've got nothing. Nobody named Marko, and the only prints on anything of that stuff was yours. There is literally nothing we can do with any of this information except maybe question you.”

“Are you seriously suggesting that I shattered my own windows right now?!” You hiss out. Regretting it when the officer starts to glare back at you. Picking up a pen from his desk.

"Of course not. But I am telling you that unless it happens again, or you have more evidence, we have nothing to go off of. And as you can see,” He grunts, gesturing to the mountain of papers next to him. “We're a bit busy right now. Dealing with missing persons. Real threats to people. So I think you should see your way out so we can get back to work, Ma'am.”

And that was that. You stormed out of the police station, cursing the justice system as you made your way to your car. Unsure what to do.It was ten o'clock at night. You were tired. But the idea of going home was absolutely the question. He would be waiting for you there. That was absolutely not safe. But neither was staying here, a sitting duck if he discovered where you went. If he was serious about seeing you (as you assumed by his writing), this was the one of the most obvious places to look. So, you drove out of the parking lot, unsure where exactly you would go.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Finally clocking out of work, the officer made his way to his car, cursing the name of the woman he was forced to speak with earlier. Sighing with relief once he was inside. Goddamn, that took way too long.

"God, women..” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. If that damn girl could just take no for an answer, he could be at home right now. Eating his microwave dinner, watching TV, going to sleep. That's all he wanted, but no. Good lord, did he regret his career choices. He signed up to solve crimes, but instead he was stuck leafing through inevitable cold cases and listening to random people complain about pranks.

As freaked out as she seemed, he doubted it was a real emergency. Just some punks she pissed off screwing with her, he decided. It would all blow over, just like every other crime in Santa Carla did.

Unfortunately for him, the officer never made it home to his microwave dinner. He never even started his drive home. Just as he took his keys to the ignition, the roof of his car was ripped off. The cop himself was lifted into the air, the sounds of screaming rippling through the empty parking lot.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You don't know why you came here. You just drove wherever your instincts told you, and they took you here, to where it technically all started. Maybe it was the fact that the boardwalk was always crowded, the proximity to people a strange comfort.

Regardless, you're still not calm. The boardwalk was practically an all-night funfair, and it would eventually close. You didn't really know where you'd go after that; maybe you'd drive to a friend's house and ask if you could spend the night. Finally admit what you've been dealing with, get some actual help.

Sighing, you walk around, gazing into the windows of the various shops. The wood underneath you creaking as it always has, as it always will, forever. Carnival music floats around you, followed by laughter and then screaming.

Looking up, you find your legs have carried you over to the roller coaster. Watching the carts speed across the tracks, some people throwing their hands up, howling with joy. Others grip the steel handlebars until their knuckles turn white, eyes shut tight, maybe even trembling a little. Eventually, after enough staring, you find yourself walking into the line. Deciding to try and get your mind off of the letters and stalkers. Trying to ignore the paranoia haunting you.

Only to find that, once you reach the front, you need another person to even get on the damn thing. Apparently, going on carnival rides required friends now. Sighing, you roll your eyes, deciding to just go drown your anxieties in five dollar hot dogs and cotton candy, when a hand lightly grabs your shoulder.

“I'll ride with her. I'm alone too, anyways,” a voice pipes up next to you. Turning your head, your breath hitches at the sight of him.

He had curly blond hair, a small ponytail on the back of his head, not really serving any functional purpose. Greyish-green eyes and a smirk that would have anyone swooning, his manner relaxed. Hell, even his jacket had your attention; patches and pins and buttons and even fishing lures adorned the coat, eye candy for anyone who looked.

By god, he was gorgeous. Practically a living statue, like he was sculpted by pygmalion himself. Your cheeks flush, and you can hear your heart in your ears as he tightens his grip, looking at you before he lightly pushes you ahead. Before you know it, you're sitting next to him. Buckling up and gripping the bar designed to keep you in place.

“So, you come here often?” He asks, looking at you. Still smirking, giving his full undivided attention.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” you manage to croak out. Trying to keep your cool, to not humiliate yourself in front of the hottest guy you've ever seen. “I work here.”

“You do?” He asks, tilting his head as he looks at you, still smirking. A voice rings over the speaker system, reminding people to fasten their belts and not be stupid on the ride as it starts to move.

Smiling, you nod. Brushing hair out of your face as you look ahead of yourself. Watching as the mechanics of the ride pull the carts up a hill.

“Yeah. At this little tourist shop by the carousel.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I think I've seen you in there a couple times,” He says. Still giving you that knowing smirk, sending a shiver up your spine. It was strange, almost familiar. Like you've seen that same face before. Before you can question things too much, he goes on. “Me and my friends are kinda over there a lot. Caught a couple glances at you in there sometimes.”

That lets you relax a little bit. He's familiar because you've probably subconsciously caught glimpses of him every now and again. Much less weird.

The ride keeps pushing up the hill. You can feel your cheeks burn as you listen, feeling a little silly. “Ah, that makes sense. You recognized me from just a couple quick looks?”

"How could I just forget the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen?” He asks, making you burst out in laughter. He seizes the opportunity to wrap his arm around your shoulder, making your face somehow turn more pink. God, this guy, what was he doing to you? You were almost hypnotized by his charms, every move you'd brush off as cheesy and cliché feeling perfect in the moment. Every touch you'd be weirded out by a stranger doing not feeling creepy or perverted. Rather, it felt right, like his arm belonged on your shoulder. Strange, but for once, a good strange. And after the night's you've been having, you needed a good strange.

“Seriously, though,” he keeps going. Rubbing your shoulder a little, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know this seems sudden, but I feel like I just have to get to know such a pretty face. Let me get you a hot dog or something after this, yeah?”

Again, you're chuckling. God, this man was turning you into a giggling schoolgirl. It was so unlike you. “Already? I don't even know your name.”

He scoffs a little, looking into your eyes. “Sure you do, (Y/n). You just gotta think a little, don't you?”

His words make you pause, looking at him. Still smiling, though a bit confused now. Did you give him your name? You can't remember, your memory under the high of a hot boy flirting with you. “What?”

You watch as he throws his head back and chuckles, the noise coming out a bit more wild than the last few times. He looks back at you, but this time, it's different. The way he looks at you sends an all too familiar shudder down your spine. One you've gotten used to feeling when the sun went down; the feeling of being watched from the shadows. Except it's not hidden in the darkness anymore.

"God, you're really gonna be stupid tonight? Or are you just that Oblivious? It's Marko.”

“What?” The words slip past your lips again. The air grows more tense as your eyes go wide. Realization hitting you like a freight truck.

The ride stalls its movement as it reaches the peak of the tracks. You're high above the rest of the boardwalk, dangling on the edge of the drop. Marko just laughs again, each time he does it becoming more and more unhinged as he just smiles at you. Pulling you in a little closer.

“Hi Amore.”

The cart dives over the hill. You scream.

Marko just cackles, joining you with all too familiar cackling as the ride speeds on. You keep screaming in terror, watching him as you try to get as far from him as possible. Leaning onto your side of the cart, only for the speeding, winding turns to whip you both around into each other. As the wind blows against your face, your eyes water. You're not sure if it's from the ride or the fear in your body.

By the time it's over, your entire body is trembling. Marko just chuckles, re-wrapping his arm around you as he practically drags you out of the cart. “Aw, what's the problem, babe? Not a fan of roller coasters? You're shaking like a leaf…”

You don't reply, both because you already screamed your voice horse, and you're terrified of what he'll do to you if you do. He just keeps smirking as he helps you off. Ten minutes ago, his smirk was making you giggle and blush like a madman. Now, it was tainted. A brutal reminder that you just flirted with and rode next to your stalker, the guy who had been tormenting you for months before all this.

Before you can truly process what's happening, he re-wraps his arm around you, walking you away from the coaster. Rubbing your tense flesh, he keeps talking, almost as if he was taunting you.

“You're such a quiet thing, aren't you, Amore? Well, that's fine, I guess. Better for the moment, I think, anyways. Don't scream, don't try anything. I'm not gonna hurt you, you're fine. I'm just gonna take you home now, alright? We're just going home.”

His voice rings in your ear, whispering. You think he's trying to imitate comfort, but it just fills you with more dread. Holding you tight against him as you walk across the boardwalk. Back over to the carousel, across from your store, to the bike racks. He lets go for a moment, and you debate running. But he's already revving the bike, looking at you expectantly. “Get on, babe.”

It's not a request, and it's not an order. It feels closer to a threat. ‘Get on my bike or so help me god, i will hunt your ass down’. The expectant look in his eyes exemplifies this. Thus, slightly intimidated, you get on the bike. Begrudgingly bringing shaky hands to wrap around his bare waist, not wanting to touch him, but almost not wanting to fall off.

"I drove my car here,” you finally mumble. The only protest you've let out at this point, and you're starting to question why you've only just started. Was he somehow fucking with your brain? Maybe you were just too scared, too complacent. Marko just chuckles again. Taking a moment to rev his bike up loader, the motors screaming in your ears before he replies.

“You won't need a car where you're going, babe. Now hold on tight, don't fall off. I don't want to see your pretty little brains splattered on the ground.”

And as he starts to speed off into the night, you take his advice. Not wanting to have reckless driving on the fault of your stalker be the cause of your death.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

All things considered, this place was nice. The cave served as a much needed break after racing around the boardwalk. And the woods. And almost over a cliff. A part of you thinks he did that last bit on purpose, scaring you into grabbing onto him tighter as he cackled. Made you feel even more helpless as he took your hand and led you into what looked like, and what Marko mentioned to be, an abandoned hotel lobby.

You ended up on this stuffed couch in the middle of it all. Old and worn, yet simultaneously one of the comfiest surfaces you've ever sat on. Under different circumstances, this would've been the most comfortable you've felt in a while.

Unfortunately, you're only here because of him. And he's right there, next to you, staring at you with those piercing green eyes. You managed to keep some distance, leaning over the right arm of the couch while he leaned back on the left. After a moment, you feel a tapping on your shoulder, and glancing over, he's behind you. That damn smirk still plastered on his face.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asks, breaking the silence that had fallen over you both once you were in the cave. A Chinese takeout box in his hands, holding it out to you.

Cautiously, you peer into the box, half expecting another cheap scare tactic, like for the thing to be full of worms and maggots. But no, it's just rice. Plain, unseasoned, white rice and a spoon. He chuckles as he watches you, like he's finding your apprehension to take food from your stalker amusing. “Aw, don't gimme that face. It's not like its poison or anything, babe. Just some rice. Here, look,”

When he speaks, he lifts the spoon and brings it to his mouth. Eating a bite before holding the box back out to you, sticking the spoon back in. “Only rice, amore. Leftovers from the other night, it's perfectly fine. C'mon, eat. Have some dinner. You know you should.”

Slowly, you wrap your hands around the box, taking it. Sticking the spoon deeper into the box before getting some rice on it, putting it in your mouth. A small wave of relief washes over you when it doesn't taste like anything was wrong with it. It doesn't last long, still feeling his eyes on you, and then he starts talking again. To your pleasure, he stands up.

"Thirsty?” He asks, walking off somewhere. His voice continues, a subtle reminder he's still too close for you to make a run for it. Sounds of things clinking together intertwining with his words. “I'd imagine if you're hungry, you're probably thirsty. Luckily for us, we never seem to have a shortage of drinks around here.”

He comes back a minute later, two glasses in hand. Handing one to you as he sits back down next to you.

Once again, you into your cup. The liquid was red and thick, almost syrupy. The longer you looked at it, the more uneasy you felt. Something about this all was just… so wrong. You got taken to an unfamiliar location, alone, with the guy who's been stalking you for probably months now, and you're sitting around having dinner with him. Like some sort of fucked up date night.

"Um, I'm fine…” You mumble. Thinking about every opportunity he had to do something to your glass.

Again, he just chuckles as he looks at you. “Geez, you're somehow both the most and least trusting person on the planet, babe.”

“Considering your current track record, I think I have a good reason to not exactly trust you right now.” You say, scoffing a little. Staring at your reflection in the cup, cringing a little. God, you looked more stressed than you had first thought. One look at your face and somebody could instantly tell something was amiss.

Too bad there was nobody around to look at you. Nobody but him.

“Okay, I guess,” he shrugs, sighing a little, leaning back into the plushness of the couch. “But seriously, it's fine. I have no reason to hurt you now. Trust me, if I wanted to, I would have already. You're here, and you're mine. So stop stressing and just take a sip already.” Once he speaks, he drinks, shutting his eyes as he swallows. A satisfied smile on his lips as he does so.

Looking between your cup and him, you sigh. Cautiously, you lift the cup to your lips, taking a sip of the mystery liquid.

The realization and regret sinks in almost instantly when the drink hits your taste buds.

Your eyes shoot open as you cough the drink back into your cup. Choking and sputtering as you drop the glass, watching the dense red liquid sink into the carpet. Marko's hands move to your shoulders, rubbing, looking at you. “Woah! Hey, hey, you good? What's wrong? Does it not taste good?”

“... what is this?” You ask, looking back at him. He blinks, staring at you, then shrugs.

“Uh, wine? Some random bottle I found back there with the others. Why?”

You shake your head, leaning out of his touch. He's pretty good, for a liar. There's no way he didn't know. The taste of it is too distinct, that tangy metallic taste on your lips- you shudder at the thought. “I know what blood tastes like, you freak.”

The words hiss their way out of your mouth before you can think. And by the way his confusion falls into dark realization, you're right. A deep chuckle rings through the room, and he grips your shoulders a little tighter. “Well, guess you can be smart when you actually think, huh? Damn, guess we'll just have to do this the old fashioned way-”

He's interrupted by your elbow shoving into his guts. As he groans, his hands loosening, you take the opportunity to stand up. Running back, away from him, towards the entrance of the cave. Your brain on auto-pilot, only thinking about easy ways to get away from him, from this total creep who just tried to get you to drink blood.

However, just as you get to the stop of the steep entrance out, a pair of hands grab onto your waist. Making you slip, pulling you back down into the fray. Ending up with you on the ground, and Marko overtop of you, sitting on your hips to keep you there. He's different now, though.

The grey-green eyes are replaced with yellowing orange ones, with dark circles around them. His nails grew longer, now closer to claws than normal, human hands. And when he smirks, seeing you below him, you notice something in his mouth. Fangs. Among his teeth are now sharp, pointed fangs.

The very same eyes and teeth you saw all those nights ago, staring at you from the trees.

“Oh, you must be feeling real fucking clever now, huh?” He asks, head tilting before he laughs. His voice is more gravely, almost like he's hissing out each word, and his laughter sounds closer to howling, like a wild animal. “Too bad you're too slow. But don't worry, amore. I'll fix all of that right here, right now…”

You try to get up. You really do. Yelling and flailing around your limbs. He just grabs your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head, laughing harder. Your kicking is rendered useless with how he sits on top of you. The same terrified, helpless feeling from the roller coaster returning.

You watch as he shrugs his free arm out of his jacket. The fabric falling off his shoulder, laying against his back as he raises his free arm. “C'mon, quit moving. I'm doing this for you, babe. For us.” He says, staring into your eyes, that damn smirk coming back. It's terrifying how quickly he can switch up, from being livid one moment and all cocky and smug the next. “I love you. I've loved you since the moment I first saw you. And unfortunately, my patience for your shit has run very, very thin.”

As he speaks, he brings his wrist to his teeth. And you're left to watch in horror as he sinks his fangs into his own flesh, ripping a gash into his flesh. Licking his lips as he pulls away, the red liquid already beading at the opening.

“I need you, Amore. I need you like I need the air I breathe. The night I live in,” Looking at you, he tightens his grip. The smirk widening into something more sinister. “The blood I drink. And soon, the blood you'll drink, too. Now open up.”

The moment you process those words, the fight all comes rushing back. You scream, thrashing your head around, desperately trying to buck him off and wiggle away. He just groans and curses under his breath, gripping you harder, shifting his weight on you to get closer to your face. Before anything else, it's clear this interaction is just annoying to him. Like your refusal and protests to him trying to shove blood down your throat is nothing but a minor inconvenience, a bug he has to squish, a chore he has to finish before he can leave the house.

“Goddammit, (Y/n), don't- Stop fucking squirming and just let me-” He says, his voice laced with venom as he continues to try, shoving his open wound towards your face. You keep avoiding it, eyes shut tightly as tears well in them. Scorning yourself for ever leaving the house tonight, for not burning the letters, for even opening the first one he ever sent you-

“- Gotcha!” Marko smiles wickedly as he thrusts his wrist into your open, screaming mouth. The blood is coming out faster, thanks to the gravity of your head on the floor. For a second, you think of bite him. Only to end up with a steadier stream hitting the back of your throat due to the pressure, making you gag. Tears flow down your cheeks as the warm, metallic taste flows into your mouth. A sick feeling forms in your stomach. You want to throw up. Needing to get this syrupy shit out of your mouth, out of your body.

He stays like that for a few minutes, mumbling and smiling to himself. “Yeah, there you go, there's my girl… It's much better from the source, right? You don't want that nasty bottled stuff, sitting out for weeks… Don't worry, from now on, if you want a drink, you can just come to me and we'll get you some…”

Eventually, he pulls his wrist from your mouth. A few moments later, he gets off of you, instantly pulling you to his side. Hugging you, holding you as you both sat on the floor. Tears run down your face, the screaming having turned to soft sobs. He wipes your face, much softer than before. It somehow is just as scary, but you think you'd grow used to that.

“Aw, c'mon, babe, don't cry, you're alright. Look, I'm sorry I got a little mean back there, I just - I got frustrated,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Like that will make any of what just happened any better. “...This is just something I had to do. I had to make sure you can really be all mine forever, okay? Can't have mio sole getting old and dying on me, right?” He chuckles, rubbing your shoulder while he hugs you.

You don't respond. He sighs, moving to stand. Picking you up with him, cradling you in his arms as walks deeper into the cave. “... You're just tired, you need to get some rest. Your poor body's gonna be put through the ringer pretty soon… Don't worry too much, babe. You'll like being a vampire.”

“Vampire?” You mumble, staring ahead as he brings you to a curtain. Pulling it away to reveal a mattress coated in blankets and pillows. Setting you down in one corner of it, chuckling a little.

“Yeah, babe, vampires. Wasn't kidding around drinking blood. And soon, you'll be, too,” he says, pulling a blanket overtop of you. You shiver at his words. Again, he just laughs a little. “Don't think about it too much right now. We can deal with it tomorrow. Just get some rest, love. You're gonna need it.”

And with that, he presses a final kiss to your head. Watching as your eyes grow heavy, your body tired and loopy. The rush of everything catching up to you, all you can think to do is pass out on the cushiness of the bed. Sure, whatever. You'll deal with all this in the morning.

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And Woo! There it is! Its done!

Thank you everyone who waited patiently after I announced this fic and read to the end! Sorry it took kind of long, i kept getting stuck and getting busy and overestimated how fast I could work 😭

Overall im pretty happy with this! Somehow dispite being a oneshot its the longest thing I ever wrote? Ive spent so long on it, I cant help but to not hate it. Sorta just happy I didnt give up halfway through lol

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!! have a good day/night! :3

[zluckychap]

"dunk tank" behind the scenes

part 1: inspiration

ever since we first got teased of the possibility of killing painter, i have been sitting back and watching in amusement at the fanbase’s reaction to this information.

… and taking rigorous notes

there are people who are convinced that they’re never going to kill him. there are people who cannot WAIT to bash in his screen. and, there are the people who would like to spare him, but care more about getting the badge and aren’t afraid to admit it.

killing painter has become one of the most divisive topics in the fandom. case & point, this poll in the community server from back in April about which choice people would make, split almost exactly down the middle with “kill painter” winning by a mere 1%

if you take in the amount of people on the server who didn’t know this poll existed (myself included) as well as the people who play the game without being in the server, my guess is that the actual ratio of people who’d kill vs. spare painter is likely higher.

but keep in mind: the poll question is “would you kill or spare painter,” not “do you like painter or hate him.”

nearly half of the people who voted chose to spare painter, and the people who voted to kill him INCLUDES the people who are just doing it for the badge.

ok my point is that overall the fandom likes the guy despite how crazy we are about his death.

that got me thinking of the themes of Undertale, even more so now with the new Deltarune chapters out. the completionist instinct we have in Pressure is similar to what we have in Undertale, but that game fleshes it out more by giving it a name: Determination.

the difference is, Undertale doesn’t have badges for making specific choices. we only make these choices because we have to see what happens when we do.

in pressure, this is also true, except here our motivations are mainly driven by those empty badge slots waiting to be filled. doing these things for the experience, but also the reward

and it’s not hard for us to do annoying or harmful things to the characters to get the badges, because at the end of the day they’re fictional. yes, we love them, but all they can really do is whatever has been implemented in the game.

that got me wondering how these guys would react to knowingly being on the receiving end of our crazed antics. understandably, not very well. 

i had the idea of painter overhearing the players talking about the update, and that’s how the script for dunk tank started!

part 2 of behind-the-scenes coming later today