#before searching for eden

[hakusins]

eden... <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[vagueconfusion]

III and IV playing together + a lil headbutt; from the first Chicago ritual of the Teeth Of God Tour [05/15/2024]

Video taken by saraweddle on TikTok

[harmonyludwig]

BABEEEEEEE

There's something magic about you

Something so tragic about you

Don't you agree?

BABEEEEEEE

There's something lonesome about you

Something so wholesome about you

Get closer to me

[sangre]

real gamers rememer this

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

The Sin of Lust - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You confide in Lucifer about just how unsatisfied your husband, Adam, is leaving you. Lucifer decides to show you a whole new, much more pleasurable side of things, a side that leaves you wanting even more of it.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Cheating (Reader is cheating on Adam w/ Lucifer), Side Adam x Reader, Religious themes, Religious guilt/shame, Cunnilingus, Masturbation, Fingering, P in V sex, cream pie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, SMUT, MDNI, this shit is depraved in a good way 😊

Your favorite spot in the whole of Eden was a small clearing no different from the rest of the garden. It was hidden away just enough that your husband, Adam, didn't know of its existence; making it your little getaway spot. You'd come here often, especially on days like today; days where Adam was more annoying than usual.

It was your duty and sole reason for creation to serve him, and you were trying your best to show thanks to your Lord by fulfilling your purpose, but it was growing harder and harder every day. Adam wasn't a bad person at his core, but he was insufferable in more ways than one. He was arrogant, felt he was better than you simply because he had a dick, and constantly treated you like you were useless unless it came to sex.

Sex with your husband was okay, and that was all it was, just okay. It wasn't horrible, sometimes it felt nice, but Adam always left you unsatisfied; longing for something more that you couldn't identify. That's how it was last night, and that's how you were sure it'd be again today. That's why you retreated to where you were now.

You sat on the soft grass, basking in the comfortable silence that came with the lack of your husband's presence. All days were nice in Eden, but today was even more so; with the sun bathing you in the perfect amount of warmth and the melodic chirping of birds filling the air. You wished it could stay like this forever, but you knew all good things must eventually meet their end.

Sooner than later you'd have to return Adam, knowing that if you were gone too long he'd come looking for you. You were dreading it, to say the least. Maybe you could pretend to be sick tonight? Or maybe you could go to sleep early? Or maybe you—

"Adam's looking for you, y'know."

You turned your head toward the voice, spotting God's most beautiful angel himself: Lucifer. You had hoped you would see him. The Lord's angels weren't supposed to mingle with humans in the way Lucifer had always mingled with you; your meetings had always been a secret that you two kept under lock and key, both of you not wanting to know the outcome of his fellow angels, or your husband, catching you two.

"Lucifer!" You exclaimed happily, looking up at him as he hovered in the air, gorgeous ivory white wings holding him up. You opened your arms, and he came down, warmly embracing you. He tilted your chin up before pressing a loving kiss to your lips; it felt like it had been years since you last kissed him, even though it had merely been days.

"I missed you." He said, affectionately tucking back a stray lock of your hair. "Heaven's not the paradise it's supposed to be without you to be there with me." You smiled at his comment before the words he said earlier finally sunk in.

"Adam's looking for me? Fuck, I've been away too long." This was bad, really bad. You had never been gone long enough for Adam to go searching for you. He was going to ask questions, and you knew you couldn't answer them, at least not honestly.

"Don't worry, I 'helpfully' suggested he go in the opposite direction," Lucifer reassured you with an almost mischievous grin. Relief filled you, he had bought you more than enough time. "Thank you, Luci." You smiled, sitting back down on the grass, patting the spot next to you. Lucifer joined you, holding your hand in his after he had sat.

"I know you like your time away from Adam, but you've been away from him longer than usual. Is something bothering you? Did he do something...?" Lucifer questioned, voice soft and laced with concern. You nervously bit your lip, unsure of how to approach the topic without being too overwhelmingly blunt.

"I...." You began, pausing to take a deep breath, almost embarrassed by what you were going to say next. "I don't want to have sex with him, not today. Or ever." You admitted, shame filling you.

You were meant to fulfill your Husband's desires, it was why you were created. You already felt guilty about avoiding him today, along with your boundary-pushing relationship with Lucifer, so to finally verbalize how you had been feeling felt like you had just sinned in the worst way imaginable. You were failing to fulfill your sole reason for living.

"He leaves me unsatisfied, yearning for something more. I know it's selfish of me, I know it's downright sinful, but I wish that I could feel the same amount of pleasure Adam feels for just once in my life, even if its not needed for me to get pregnant." You refused to meet Lucifer's gaze. The angel had always been a good-intentioned rule-breaker, but at the end of the day, he was still an angel. One of the beings meant to carry out your creator's will, and your creator willed that you be submissive to your husband and birth his children.

Lucifer must be disgusted.

The last thing you expected was for him to begin pressing gentle kisses to your neck and collarbone, something you weren't entirely unfamiliar with, just not from him. It was the same thing Adam did to signal he wanted you, albeit Adam's kisses were much more hurried and sloppier; nowhere near as delightful as Lucifer's.

"L-Lucifer..." You breathed out, letting him lay you down and begin kissing lower and lower, all the way until his head was at your thighs. He placed his hands on them, but before he did anything, he looked up at you. "May I?" He asked, catching you off guard.

"W–What?" You stuttered in response. Your only other experience was with Adam, and while he knew that 'no' meant 'no', he was certainly more commanding than Lucifer was being right now.

"I need to know that you want this," Lucifer explained, lightly kissing the outside of your thigh. "I'm not him. You don't need to feel pressured into anything. I want you to be the one who feels good for once, yeah?"

You hesitated. Kissing Lucifer was one thing, but this was another; there'd be no going back from this. It felt wrong, it was wrong, but at the same time your desire for the man who made you feel things your husband never could was quickly overtaking you. You didn't just want this, you craved it. You needed it.

"Show me, Lucifer," You finally said, giving in, spreading your legs for him. "Show me what I've been missing out on." Lucifer placed a kiss on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your wet sex, before diving in like an animal starved. The feeling of his tongue licking at your cunt ignited a newfound ecstasy within you, your legs beginning to quiver not too long into it.

Your hands gripped at the grass beneath you, only got him to grab them, leading them to his hair. You grabbed at it instictively, pulling at the locks, eliciting a low moan from him; the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you.

"Lucifer!" You cried out, feeling him sucking on your clit. You slapped a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the lewd noises escaping you; as if it would lessen the sin of the act you were committing. His mouth left your needy pussy, his fingers replacing it soon after.

"No no no," He cooed, using his free hand to uncover your mouth. "Let me hear those sweet sounds you're making. Let me know how good you feel." You threw your head back with a pleasured whine as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot deep within you that had you seeing stars.

"Fuck—Your mouth, use your mouth—" You gasped, pulling his head back down, guiding him to where you needed him most by tugging at his hair. His fingers continued to fuck into you while his tongue lapped at whatever it could, the angel becoming drunk on your taste. His hand left your cunt, joining his other hand in locking your thighs in place as your legs trembled from the sensation of him going down on you.

"Close—So fucking close! Don't stop!" You pleaded. The impending feeling of orgasm was something you had felt before, but never before had you reached its climax; at least not until now. With one more 'come hither' motion of your lover's fingers, you were cumming for the first time in your life, your toes curling and a primal noise leaving you. He helped you ride out the waves of your orgasm, licking at your drenched sex, drinking up the juices of your climax until you couldn't take anymore, pushing his head away in a desperate attempt to escape the growing overstimulation.

Lucifer pulled away, eyes half-lidded and filled with mixed satisfaction and lust, your slick covering the corners of his mouth and fingers. He made a show of licking it off, moaning at the taste as it reached his tongue.

You let a content sigh, coming down from the absolute ecstasy you had experienced just moments prior. The feeling of contentment didn't last for long as you saw the bulge in Lucifer's pants; a sight that reignited the desires you had started with. To say he had done a good job would've been an understatement, but after finally witnessing just how amazing sex could feel, you knew you needed more.

You crawled into his lap, straddling him as you kissed, tasting yourself on his lips. You grinded down on him, and he separated from the kiss to let out a small groan. You continued your movements, feeling his cock growing harder through the fabric of his pants.

"Wait," He told you, placing his hands on your forearms in a signal for you to stop. You halted your actions, eyes widened in worry, and a blush creeping onto your face; scared you may have done something wrong. Did he not want you...?

"Hey, relax," He soothed, rubbing your arms comfortingly, taking notice of how you tensed up. "Do you want this? You're not obligated to return the favor or anything like that." You nodded in response. It was true, you wanted him more than anything. "I need you, need you so much." You rubbed down against him once more. "I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me."

He smirked at your words, he had waited far too long to hear you say that. How many nights had he spent fucking into his hand, pretending it was your tight pussy, a hand clamped over his mouth so he wouldn't be caught by his fellow angels? To hear those words, so lewd and sinful, spill out of those perfect lips of yours sounded like music to his ears.

"I'm here to fulfill every single desire you have, honey." He purred, moving your hands down to the waistband of his pants. You pulled them down swiftly, his cock springing out. God, it was a sight to behold. You bit your lip, already imagining it inside of you; the leaky tip parting your folds, teasing you before finally thrusting in, the thickness of it stretching you out, and the length reaching that same sweet spot his fingers had touched earlier. It was everything you had ever wanted.

Your hands rested on his shoulders as he lined the tip up with your dripping cunt, giving you the honor of actually putting it in. You sunk down, sliding it in with ease. You moaned at the way he stretched you out, just as you imagined he would. His hands found your hips as you began to bounce on his cock, moans leaving you both.

You used him like you would a toy, something he had no problem with. You were lost in your own lust, focused purely on your pleasure; just the way Lucifer wanted it. There were no expectations placed on you except to put yourself first, to feel good for once. Lucifer wanted you to use him, and so you did.

"Fuck yes!" You cried, increasing your pace, the sound of skin on skin filling the air. Lucifer cursed, holding onto your hips hard enough to bruise. He moved one to your clit, rubbing at it, finding enjoyment in the way you threw your head back in ectasy at the combined sensations.

Your orgasm was sudden and caught you by surprise, your body trembling as it coursed through you. Your climax triggered his, and he spilled into you, warm cum filling you deep.

You pulled him in, lips finding his, pouring all of your love and passion for him into the kiss. You continued to kiss him sweetly as both of your orgasms subsided, enjoying the feeling of him still buried inside of you. That itch for more still resonated deep inside of you, and you were determined to satisfy it, even if it meant giving in to more and more of your sins.

Lucifer laid you down, lips never leaving yours as he began to move again; the same lustful urges having overtaken him as well. A second round turned into a third, and so on. You continued until you couldn't anymore, exhaustion being only what remained, and the day turning to night. All good things must come to an end, and eventually you bid Lucifer farewell.

Although you ended up bathing away the physical proof, your sin still remained as you returned to your husband.

"Where the FUCK have you been!?" Adam shouted upon seeing you, and you only ignored him, moving past the man and towards where you slept. Lucifer had awoken something within you, something equal parts liberating and devious. He had shown you a new world of possibilities, and you were more than ready to continue indulging in them.

The sins you had committed during your day were just the first of many, and you couldn't have been happier.

[sugurouge]

— my favourite pain : blade x f!reader

contains! — mdni: DARK CONTENT, smut, angst, toxic + unestablished relationship, jealousy, mentally unstable blade, minor hunter/prey, reader is being carried around, possessiveness, manhandling, physical abuse (strangulation & hair pulling), marking, irrational behaviour, praise, petnames (pretty girl), there's a backstory to explain certain reasons to their behaviour — 5k words

summary: a tale about blade's very own paradise he deemed himself undeserving of. his best intentions harboured rotten fruit, fuelling resentment that tore them apart. until weeks later, a mara-struck blade is out to finish what they've started.

You haven’t seen Blade in weeks, yet he remains plaguing your mind like an ever-looming presence—a forbidden fruit you crave more than you would ever dare admit.

At the same time, you’re also the traitor who called the Cloud Knights on him: it was a desperate, vengeful act born of being once more used for salvation, drained of all the kindness residing in your heart to help calm the hurricane in his mind.

For long, he had done the same thing—appearing uninvited, expecting you to welcome him back into his personal Garden of Eden: the tender warmth of your hold. Forcing you to pity a selfish man who robbed you of the chance to find lasting love when he claimed your heart. He made it clear he wanted nothing more than those fleeting encounters, never trespassing the line that would make you lovers rather than acquaintances.

But your heart wanted something different.

He never touched you indecently, never did what you craved for him to do—only held you in his embrace, lips ghosting along your neck and chest until the drumming of your pulse paled in comparison to the need between your thighs.

But nothing ever happened. Once morning came, Blade was gone, leaving only the icy gift of loneliness in his stead, until the Mara welled up again.

The abomination returned to your doorstep time and time again.

You ruminate about Blade as you pour your cup of tea, wondering if the Cloud Knights truly managed to imprison him again. Is he rotting in the Shackled Prison once more because of your pettiness? The only thing you’re certain of: you’d be the first person he’d kill if he ever escaped.

However, the gust of air kissing the back of your neck and creeping beneath your night robes tears you from those spiralling thoughts. It causes chills to creep down your spine as you cautiously glance over your shoulder, scanning the darkened room awaiting behind the comfort of your dimly lit kitchen.

You’ve grown accustomed to searching for said criminal in crowds, used to meeting his red eyes in places he should never set foot back in. But this is the first time the feeling of being watched greets you in your very home. Blade had always been polite enough to knock before. But back then, you hadn’t yet betrayed his trust either.

Trying to focus back on your tea seems like a good call, to finish the preparations and retreat to the safety of your bedroom—away from the eerie open spaces and dark corners until sunrise. If it wasn’t for your shaking form locking you in place. The stiffness in your shoulders deepens as the hairs on the back of your neck stand and a bead of cold sweat trickles down your spine.

You hear him—hear the skilled footsteps of a hunter stalking its prey, hear the scraping of his blade along the floor—and silently, you pray to the Aeons for a quick death.

Perhaps, if you believe it all to be a bad dream, you can escape this situation, can wake up and blink away the nightmare while tucked into the warmth of your bed. So, your eyes press shut in terror, hands balling into fists as your survival instincts scream for action.

The sound of his weapon hitting the floor shatters your fragile hope and frees you from your stupor. It forces you to turn around upon the first touch of bandaged hands on your skin. But your wrist is caught before your palm can make contact with his beautiful, haunting face. Blade greets you once more with those familiar, empty eyes tearing through all your walls in a matter of seconds.

He looks worse than ever. The past weeks must have taken a terrible toll on his already fragile sanity. You’ve never seen him this conflicted, never witnessed so much pain etched into his features.

The Mara has struck again, and again, feeding on him relentlessly.

How much of the man he once was remains? The thought almost makes you forget your circumstances.

It’s no surprise that he managed to escape the Cloud Knights again. Those feeble guards could never keep him under control—no one can. Unlike the sickness coursing through his very being, tainting him, dragging him deeper into despair with every strike.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking of you, couldn’t stop yearning for the comfort you provide. He knows he’s hurt you, knows he’s taken advantage of you and robbed you of all that is good. But how could he act selflessly when you’re the closest thing to the sweet release he so craves? In you, he imagines himself embraced by peace, by calm, by freedom from all this hatred—since the nothingness he longs for won't open the gates for him. What a sweet fantasy.

“No, no, no…” Blade murmurs in response to your attempt at violence while his fingers grasp your chin, effectively allowing him to savour the tumultuous rollercoaster of emotions reflected in your worried expression. “You’re not going to rat me out and hurt me,” he mutters, bumping the tip of his nose against yours and cooling your heated cheeks as a low chuckle escapes him. Your body stiffens at his unnerving affection. “I can forgive you for calling the guards. I know I’ve hurt you; I am hurting you—”

“Then stop.” You’re quick to interrupt, eager to regain some fickle sense of control, unfortunately, your eyes betray you. Blade’s brows crease as he seems to stare straight into your soul, as though he is already lost in you. “But I need you,” he mumbles against the soft flesh of your lips before his head dips lower, his kisses branding your neck. Strong arms wrap around your waist as your palms desperately push against his unmoving chest, trying in vain to remain resolute in your decision to cast him out.

You want more from your mortal life than to be a charging station for a criminal.

But the protest of calling his name turns out to be a futile effort as your voice comes out as nothing but a soft plea, a gentle moan born of his selfish deeds.

You fill Blade with an uncountable amount of pride when you melt into his embrace like you’ve always belonged, claiming a space he holds only for you. His hand reaches beneath your clothes, a fingertip tracing the length of your spine until you arch into him ever so perfectly. He witnesses the shivers coursing through your body as his ragged breaths drag you back to a hell you thought you’d escaped.

Any protests you clung on to are discarded. Any scream stuck in your throat as his heaving chest rises against yours while sultry whispers of sweetness lure you down a path of despair. “I need you more than I want to,” the confession vibrates low against your skin while strong hands take hold of your thighs to effortlessly lift you off your feet, pinning you against the nearest wall to allow for a quick ridding of your silk dress. “I need to have you whole—all of you.”

Blade feels nothing but greed when it comes to you. There is no space left for consideration, no room for manners after the time he had spent alone again—not when you look like his personal angel. A sinner Blade has been for centuries, a criminal, a wanted man ever since he returned to this world instead of passing away when he consumed life itself. Yet never, in all this time, has the Mara affected his feelings in such a primitive way.

His lips ravage your skin as he presses himself into you, seeking solace in your warmth, your racing heart, the drumming pulse he can feel beneath his kisses. Every trace of friction is claimed as though it’s his right, as though you truly are his.

Lust clouds your better judgement upon the passion you’re drowning in. Blade floods over you. The fighting spirit you once held is beaten by desire. By everything you wanted from Blade for so long. Too long, all you had was his embrace, but now, tonight, you’re swept away by his need until you can no longer swim against the tide.

Hold onto him.

Your arms find their way around his neck and shoulders, allowing yourself to pull him closer into you and listen to his sounds of satisfaction. Your fingers thread through dark locks, tugging sharply at the roots—just how he loves it, you realise upon the smirk on his face, upon the raspy moan as his hips jerk forward against you. “Careful what you wish for now,” he warns, the words nothing but another breathed sensation against the shell of your ear.

But all you care about is how close he is, how warm he feels, how intoxicating his scent is.

You hum in bliss as your nose trails along his neck, lips brushing against his sharp jawline. The embrace tightens as though you never want to let go. “I only ever wished for you,” you whisper. The sweet words coat his lips like honey as they meet yours in a deep kiss, threatening to steal the very air from your lungs.

A gasp of surprise fills your chest as Blade lifts you from the wall, carrying you through your home while his reckless lips taint your skin. He paints you as his possession through the sting of his teeth against your skin, suckling and licking as if he could taste your pulse if he dug just a little deeper.

You would never be able to admit that you’ve been entirely devoured by his gluttony. Mind and body all consumed by Blade. Even undoing his jacket proves a struggle as your fingers fumble with the buttons.

Blade could find amusement in your clumsiness if it weren’t for the irritation he feels upon walking into your door. Instead of opening it in one smooth motion, he presses you against the hardwood. You seize the opportunity with that old, stuck door, letting your legs wrap tightly around his waist, banishing any distance that once remained between your bodies.

A shameless moan escapes you at the feeling of his erection pressing against your tainted panties once more, the sensation so delicious and promising. And he rewards you with a throaty groan.

“Devil,” Blade groans at your attack. One more move like this and he’ll take you here if you’re not careful. “I need to feel you. I want to taste you, pretty girl.” At that, you grin—it’s the first pet name he’s ever used, and it’s utterly endearing.

“Then don’t make me wait, Mr Criminal.” You can’t refuse to open the door in his stead, fully aware he’s forgotten his earlier plans of carrying you to your bedroom when he can instead feel you fully in this position.

You steal the balance from his hold, catching him completely off guard as you let him stumble into the room. “Careful, Bladie,” you tease further, with a sudden discovery of bravery; mischief laces your soft voice, only to be muted by his advances as he hoists you up onto your dresser.

“Bladie?” he repeats with slight apprehension.

Yet the cheerful expression on your face makes him forget about the somewhat irritating spider that loves to use the same nickname. Why not let you have your fun? Why not lean into it? Why not join you? Blade thinks as he closes the distance, capturing your lips while carelessly brushing aside jewellery and picture frames once neatly placed on top of the furniture to create further room.

But you don’t have time to reciprocate his kiss, refusing his advances like he means nothing as you reach for the frames tumbling off the edge. “Don’t!” you cry in panic, barely managing to catch one before it falls. He watches in confusion as you clutch the frame to your chest like it’s your most prized possession. The reaction wipes the grin off Blade’s lips, leaving him wondering about the importance until, a second later, he snatches the item from your grasp.

Narrowed eyes drop to stare at the photo within—a picture of you with another man, a face he doesn’t recognise. Proudly standing beside the beauty Blade knows is a handsome man, a decent bit older than you, but age doesn't seem to be a concern to you.

What Blade doesn’t know is that this man is someone gone, someone who once saved you. Someone who picked you up from the streets and helped you grow into the woman you are today.

The envy seeps through his veins, bringing his blood to boil with frightening speed, causing his chest to feel heavy, until he shuts out any outside noise as raging questions of your loyalty and his hatred echo in his mind.

Who is this? What is a picture of some other man doing in your room? You’re his. That’s why he came back. For you. To finally give himself to you. But you…

The Mara always strikes in fragile moments, ready to reclaim him. Your hands, desperate and pleading, are brushed off like whispers in the wind. Your voice, frantic and trembling, is drowned out by the storm within him. You’re unable to penetrate the walls that are erecting around Blade’s body and heart.

There’s that familiar expression on his face again, one etched with dread and hatred. That same tell-tale sign you’ve come to recognise.

Calling his name offers no forgiveness, only anguish, as strong fingers snake around your neck, his fingertips pressing down until you’re gasping, until eyes of madness meet your scared gaze as he draws close. It feels eerily similar to the first time your foreheads touched—yet nothing like it at all. The moment holds no tenderness; this time, you fear for your life.

Blade has lost himself before, but never like this. Never in a way that truly hurt you. And hurt it does as he fists a hand into your hair, forcing you further into submission, exposing your near-naked figure to the brutal moonlight while the monster looms over you.

“Someone else?” A near unfamiliar voice questions. It’s nothing like the tender rasp you’re used to. The picture you had tried so desperately to protect shatters against the floor, erupting a sob from your struggling throat.

“Betrayed me for that…” he mumbles to himself, twisting the narrative in his mind, bending it to feed the hatred coursing through him.

His grip on you tightens.

It hurts. Truly stings how you’re being handled; the pain is as sharp as his accusations, branding you as a traitor. “No, Blade, please, just lis—”

Yet, your protests die as the hand around your throat tightens. A little more strength and he might snap your neck then and there. He can feel it beneath his palm—the frantic race of your pulse, your desperate attempts to swallow, your panicked fight for air.

Why is he hurting you? Didn’t he come here for salvation?

Blade stares down at you, the chaos in his mind giving way to something softer—something broken. His grip loosens, and the rage that burns in his chest starts to crumble, leaving behind guilt so heavy it threatens to crush him. His hands tremble once they release their hold, ghosting over your irritated skin in apology.

“You’re all I want,” Blade confesses, voice nothing but a whisper as he stumbles over his words. “What I came back for... does he give you wh—” His voice falters, unable to finish the sentence when your eyes lock with his. It was like a knife to the gut. In that fleeting moment, he felt every ounce of his confidence and ruthlessness crumble.

The air rushed in so sharply that it felt like new life was flooding your lungs, overwhelming you like the man who caused the pain. You gasp pathetically, your body trembling as you struggle to steady yourself—to comfort yourself.

“I’m not seeing another man.” The words follow quietly but firmly, as the pain you experience keeps your voice low. “I didn’t want to see anyone else.”

Blade’s entire being seems to cave in at that. The guilt floods him, pulling him deeper and deeper until it threatens to swallow him. His shoulders sag, his face contorts with an agony he can no longer hide. How had he let this happen? He had sworn to never hurt you, to never let his demons break what was left of the only good thing in his life. And yet, here he was, broken by the very thing he feared most.

He had failed you. Failed himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, not now, not when the consequences of his actions stare right back at him. His head falls against your shoulder, seeking comfort in your warmth—despite everything. Your embrace was the only thing that anchored him to this world.

His fingers tremble as they brush against your back, a futile attempt to atone for the chaos he’d caused. Your hands, though, cling to him. Even as you flinched, your touch remained unwavering.

"I'm sorry," he breathes. The confession is barely audible, heavy with sorrow that cuts deeper than any wound ever could. His forehead touches yours, the gesture so tender, so unlike the man he was just moments ago. "I'm so sorry."

The air hangs thick between you, but instead of pulling away, he stays close. His fingers skim along the curve of your face as though you might shatter under his touch. His lips, so often twisted into a scowl or smirk, brush against the corner of your mouth with a gentleness that takes you by surprise.

The madness that consumed him moments ago retreats into the depths of his soul, leaving a hollow ache in its place. Blade cups your face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streak your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” he repeats.

“Blade…” your voice is soft and fragile, and your hands come up to rest on his wrists. You search his eyes, the wild, unrelenting storm now replaced by a man drowning in remorse.

“It’s… it’s okay,” your voice cracks as you try to speak louder, and Blade's heart twists at the sound. The rasp of your words is like a slap to his face, a reminder of the damage he caused. “You didn’t do it on purpose,” you whisper while you seek comfort in the curve of his neck. Your fingers run shakily through his hair, offering him a softness he doesn’t deserve.

In that silence, a heavyweight settles between you, like a promise unspoken. He can feel your fear, the way your body stiffens ever so slightly against him. You are afraid. Afraid of him, afraid of what he can do. And yet, here you are, offering him kindness despite all.

It tears at him.

His mind fights with itself, battling the guilt, the regret, the shame. All the anger and pain he holds inside, all the monsters he refuses to face, melting away at the sight of you. The truth is clear: he needs you. You are the only thing that can silence the madness inside him, the only one who can put him back together.

“But I need you.” The confession slipped out of him, once again. It was more than a plea; it was the truth that had festered inside him for so long.

You pull away, your hands trembling as they push against his chest. There is fear in your eyes. He can see it. You are terrified of what he is capable of, terrified of what might happen if you let him truly have you. Yet, your body betrays your words, your fingers still fisting his jacket, holding him close as though you can’t bear to let go.

“You will find someone who does the same, better than me,” you say gently, but your voice wavers, a crack in your resolve. “Someone stronger.” He sees the doubt in your eyes, the inner struggle that mirrors his own. You don’t want to let him go, not really. But you are trying to protect yourself, trying to shield your heart from the man who has hurt you more times than you can count.

"Once more, let me hold you... just once," Blade whispers against your ear, his voice barely audible, trembling with the weight of his desire. "Again and again, forevermore. I don’t want anyone else."

His words are like a prayer. A plea. But it is his actions that speak louder as he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering.

"Let me make it right," he murmurs, his voice low, pleading. His hands glide down your body, carefully tracing the outline of your waist, your hips, your thighs. Blunt fingernails drag along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you always wanted him to be most. Your breath hitches, and the sound draws a low hum of satisfaction from him.

“Like nobody else,” Blade whispers, his lips ghosting over your collarbone as his fingers dip between your folds. “So beautiful.”

A gasp escapes you as he spreads your arousal, his movements deliberate, unhurried. He’s careful, near worshipful, every touch made to remind you of the connection you’ve always craved from him. His fingers pump into you, curling with each slow drag to find that spot that has you keening, your toes curling as pleasure courses through you.

Your thighs instinctively press against his sides, but he holds you there, caged between his chest and the wall, his eyes locked onto yours. Foreheads resting together, his gaze is searching, desperate, as though trying to memorise every detail of this moment before it slips away.

“Let me make it all up. Let me look after you. Let me…” He trails off as he claims your lips in a deep, searing kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, slow and intoxicating, before his teeth catch your lower lip, tugging just enough to make you whimper. The sound nearly undoes him, his resolve faltering as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

But instead of devouring you whole, he—ever so carefully—gathers you in his arms and carries you to bed. While his actions remain gentle, as if you might shatter if handled too roughly, his eyes roam shamelessly over your naked figure, addicted to every curve. Your back meets the soft mattress while he remains standing at the edge of the bed, as if contemplating whether to truly infiltrate your sanctuary.

If it weren’t for your hands reaching out after you crawl over to where he stands, to invite him in, they explore his body, gliding upward until you can shrug off his coat, the fabric landing carelessly on the hardwood—revealing scars that criss-cross his entire torso—evidence of battles fought and lost, of the pain he carries every day, of the brutal punishment he endured.

Your fingers brush over them, tentative at first, then firmer as you lean up to kiss each mark. The tenderness in your actions draws a sharp inhale from him. He watches you, his crimson eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that might leave you addicted to his attention.

Your lips trail lower, down his stomach to the waistband of his trousers, kisses shameless upon the effect you have on his body. But before you can go further, his hands are on you again. He hoists you effortlessly back into the bed, drawing a surprised yelp from you upon the sudden shift in position.

He looms above you, his lips finding yours again as his hand trails down your body, worshipping every inch of you. "You’ll have to behave, pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice tinged with warmth as he kisses a path down your body.

His trousers join the discarded cloak on the floor, and he drags his nails up your thighs, teasing, coaxing. His hands find the backs of your knees, parting your legs as he positions himself between them. “I’ll give you everything,” he breathes, “Everything I have to give.” Leaning over you, his long strands of hair fall around his face, framing his sharp features most perfectly. His strength presses you gently but firmly into the mattress, holding you in place as he leans in.

The stretch as he enters is slow, every inch of him pushing into you until he bottoms out. A shuddered breath escapes his lips once he stills, his forehead pressing against yours once more.

“I know, I know,” he shushes with a tender kiss to your forehead as you claw at his back, nails dragging ever so perfectly for him to struggle to remain still inside you. “You’re doing so well,” he encourages upon the whimper you let out, your back arching off the mattress upon the waves of pleasure you try to accommodate.

Blade can’t resist moving his hips, pulling back almost entirely only to stretch you anew, to feel you struggle to stay sane. Hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that speaks of both desperation and devotion. His body cloaks yours, his hair brushing against your skin as he leans over, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck. The weight of his guilt lingers in every touch, every kiss, every thrust, as though he’s trying to atone for the pain he’s caused.

The moon casts its silvery light through the window, illuminating the room in a quiet glow. Shadows dance along the walls as Blade moves against you, his body pressing into yours with every deep thrust. The rhythm he sets is steady yet intense, his movements precise while holding you close.

His touch is gentle, like you’re his most prized possession—sacred. Roughened hands, scarred and calloused, trace the curve of your waist, memorising the soft rise and fall of your body beneath him while whispering sweet praise that will remain in your memory longer than his presence.

“So perfect,” Blade murmurs, his voice low, barely more than a breath. The heat of it sends shivers down your spine. “So good to me.”

Your hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer as your bodies move together in a rhythm that feels perfect. His breath is warm on your neck, his lips ghosting over your pulse before trailing fleeting kisses along the line of your jaw.

The drag of his body against yours, the way he stretches you, fills you—each movement sends sparks of pleasure through your body, building until you’re breathless, lost in the haze.

But even in this closeness, even with his skin pressed so tightly against yours, there’s a shadow behind his eyes. A heaviness clings to him. You can feel it even as he murmurs praises against your skin, even as his hands tighten around your hips like he’s afraid to let go.

“Blade,” you moan his name gently, as if you could ground him here, keeping him from slipping away if you just showed him how good he makes you feel.

His lips claim yours again, deepening the kiss upon first contact for his tongue to move against yours, drawing a soft moan from you that only seems to affect him further. His hands take hold of your thighs as he thrusts harder, his resolve faltering over the sound of your voice, the way you breathe his name—it’s too much, and yet it’s not enough.

“Stay with me,” you murmur against his lips, though your words are muffled by his kiss.

His response is a low, guttural sound as his hips thrust harder, faster. He’s unravelling, his need for you dulling every other thought. Equally, the pleasure builds in your core, coiling tight until it snaps, until you fall apart beneath him, with him.

The way you tighten around him draws a shudder from his body, and he follows you moments later, his release consuming him as he buries himself deep inside you. His forehead rests against yours, his breath ragged as his body shakes with the force of it.

For a brief moment, everything stills. His weight on top of you grounds you in the quiet aftermath, his chest heaving in time with yours as your breaths meet in the space between your sore-kissed lips.

But the silence stretches, and the weight in your chest grows heavier. Even as his hands remain on your skin, tracing mindless patterns along your hips, he feels distant, like he’s already slipping away.

You lift a hand, brushing your fingers along his jaw to lure his gaze back to yours. “Blade?”

His gaze meet yours, and for a brief moment, his expression softens. But it feels safer to let his eyes fall shut, as if he were to try and shield himself from your influence, from the words you might say.

He presses one last kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment longer than he should.

When the two of you finally untangle, Blade doesn’t leave your side. Instead, he lies beside you, propped up on one elbow as his other hand brushes the hair from your face. 

“Sleep,” he commands softly, almost tenderly. 

But you hesitate, your fingers curling into his arm as if to tether him to you. “You’ll stay?” The question cuts through him like iron. He forces a small smile. “I’ll stay.”

What a sweet lie.

Yet, the exhaustion overtakes as his warmth surrounds you. You allow your eyes to flutter shut, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel safe. Blade, however, remains awake, his eyes fixed on you, drinking in the sight of you at peace. There’s a softness in your features that makes his heart ache. 

He doesn’t leave a note. There’s nothing he could say that would make up for what he’s done, for what he’s about to do. All he can do is disappear, sparing you the burden of his sickness, his sins, his darkness. 

dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/anitalenia

[foone]

A world of friends

In the late 2030s, a research lab discovers how to travel to alternate earths. And what's even better, they've figured out how to best monetize it too: tourism.

See it turns out there's not a lot of variation. There's a nearly infinite number of earths, but it's not like you're traveling to an alien planet or Narnia. They're all pretty... Earthy.

And they turn that into a positive: all earths are similar, but the small differences are what counts. And they're always searching for worlds with interesting divergences from our own, as potential destinations.

Spend a weekend with Netflix on the world where Walter Disney became a little-known architect, and the face of children's media is completely different. Visit the world where the US Revolution failed, and most of the Americas remains part of the commonwealth.

Safari through the world where humans died out or never evolved, see the megafauna we weren't around to extinct.

The world where the planet's population is 97% Christian but they're also nudists because they associate nudity with the innocence of the Garden of Eden.

And if you're looking for a challenge, visit the world's where climate change has already melted the ice caps, the world's where the cold war went hot, the world where the first world war is also the last one, and it's still ongoing.

There's just one minor problem with their plan of setting up an industry to portal people to other worlds:

Someone else is already using it.

Their interdimensional tech relies on creating wormholes using a complex arrangement of superconducting magnets and there's a characteristic burst of neutrinos when the event horizon forms.

They have to monitor them to properly "aim" the wormhole, but their early work is thrown off by seeing spurious emissions coming from outside their facility, which they later realize are exactly matching their technology.

They're just seeing the wormholes from the other end.

They partner with a government agency, explaining their discovery, and express worry that the country (and the world!) may be getting infiltrated by an off world power.

They build sensors in major cities, and triangulate where the off-worlders are appearing, and follow them.

They seem harmless enough. Often skittish, taking lots of pictures, asking odd questions... These aren't security agents or an invading force.

They're just tourists. They're from another world's interdimensional tourism business. One that set up before ours.

But why are they here? What's so odd about our world among the trillions they have access to that makes them come here with cameras fully loaded with film and memory cards?

The security agents pour over surveillance tapes of them wandering around random cities, and finally spot (no pun intended) why they're here.

It's dogs.

The tourists are skittish around seeing people walking their dogs, they're taking pictures of corgis and greyhounds, they're visiting petstores and ignoring the cats and iguanas and tropical fish to go look at the most boring mutts, eyes full of wonder and fear and excitement...

One of the tourists is picked up by the security services, but hits their panic button and vanishes before they can be questioned. They leave behind a Daguerre Inc 2090 DSLR camera full of slightly blurry photos of dogs, and a pamphlet that fell out of their bag in the scuffle

The pamphlet is for this interdimensional vacation, and describes the weirdness of our world: The strange universe where humans somehow befriended wild wolves and let them into their homes and lives.

The pamphlet plays up the scariness of canines, showing Tibetan mastiffs and angry pitbulls biting into meat. Police dogs with titanium teeth replacements. There's very few pictures of chihuahuas and corgis and poodles.

So the next time you're at an animal rescue or a petting zoo, and you see someone looking on in fear and wonder at the amazing sight of a golden retriever puppy, their camera shutter clicking away...

Maybe ask them who the president is. And what year we landed on the moon.

And don't be too surprised if they answer "You mean the Prime Minister? It's still Thiers, right? I haven't been reading the papers much recently. And 1956, unless you're one of those pedantics who say it only counts if it was successful, in which case 1958"

(reposted from a twitter thread from 2022)

[inkedtae]

xiv. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. [M]

⎡She’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten⎤

chapter fourteen : the edge of us ⤑ ❝ you’re teetering on the edge of something dangerous and taehyung’s words are the only anchor keeping you from falling–or so you hope. ❞

⇽ prev. | masterlist | next ⇾

⌁ pairing; ceo!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; s2l, ceo au, sugar daddy au, angst, fluff, 18+

⌁ word count; 5.5k

⌁ warnings; dom!taehyung, daddy!taehyung, sub!reader, brat!reader, virgin!reader, daddy kink, corruption kink, aftercare, mentions of sexual activity, mentions of bdsm themes, and lots of angst

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

» prefer ao3? keep reading here

ও huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for the amazing new banner and a very giant thanks to jen ( @anobodyslove ) for beta-reading this until no matter how late it is and always being there for me. i love you babes 💕

The gym is quiet–save for the gentle trickling of rain, your panting and his groans. Taehyung’s fingers brush lazily along your back, tracing shapes you’re too dazed to decipher. Eye fluttering shut, you melt against him. You hold onto this feeling of utter contentment, even if you know it is fleeting, and let it engulf your fretful heart.

Taehyung’s deep, indulgent groan cuts through the comfortable silence. “​​Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Absolutely ruined. What am I supposed to do with such a messy little thing?”

You breathe a chuckle. Nestling against the crook of his neck, you press yourself further against him and let his sweaty, musky scent overwhelm your overstimulated senses. In this moment, you are his– you are completely wrapped in warmth and comfort. He trails his fingers along your spine, kissing your temple and lulling you out of your post-orgasmic state of exhaustion with quiet shushes. You allow yourself to forget the photos, the lack of labels, all the stuff he said to EDEN or his friends and just be his.

“So desperate, so needy—it's almost cute," he teasingly whispers before trailing kisses down your neck.

Steadying yourself against his shoulders, you lean back to meet his gaze. Playful indignation twinkles in his gaze. He presses his forehead against yours, nudging your nose with his own. You cannot help the soft moan that sounds in response, the gentle shift of your hips against his as you finally catch your breath.

“I can’t help it,” you admit in a whisper, voice still frayed with vulnerability. 

Taehyung’s gaze softens– or rather, sobers. You’re not sure if it was your words, the sound of your voice, or the unbridled sincerity in your tone, but he stiffens beneath you. His grip around your waist doesn’t squeeze you against him either. Whatever warmth you felt moments ago disappears, leaving nothing but the cold to comfort you.

Swallowing thickly, you part your lips to ask if everything is okay, but the words die in your throat, shackled by fear, panic and disappointment. He’s been so responsive the last few times he came with you, been so open and forthcoming about how good it felt– how good you made him feel. Is he pushing you away again? Are you hurting him?

Heart in your throat, you try to stop yourself from thinking the worst whenTaehyung rasps, “Neither can I.”

With a furrow of your brows, you study his gaze. You search for any notions of anger, sadness, or even mischief but can only find hardened sincerity. Is this part of his game? His words only leave you more confused and disheartened. You wonder if he is upset by this revelation. Perhaps he doesn’t like admitting that you have that kind of power over him, or that he is capable of feeling this way for someone. 

Taehyung holds you close as he stands up. Your eyes widen at his strength and you grip tightly onto his shoulders, suppressing a surprised squeal. You knew he was strong from the way he picked up the weighted bar with ease earlier, but that weight was evenly distributed. And while there were several other occasions where he effortlessly lifted you, he usually had a wall or tabletop to press the better part of your weight against. He’s never picked you up without support before this moment. You wait for him to grunt or groan, or for his features to scrunch in concentration against the weight but he never makes a sound or bats an eye. He just stands with you firmly in his grasp, then turns to set you down on the bench with practised ease. 

You squirm in his previous seat. Your eyes follow his brooding frame to the towel rack. His back is wide and strong, flexing as he rolls his shoulders back. However, it’s the faint red, jagged lines that captivate you. Biting your lip, you try not to moan at the sight–at the fact that you just marked him. You can even see the indents of your nails in his shoulders and biceps.

Taehyung turns back, holding a small, damp towel. He raises his brow at you as an amused smile plays on his lips. You know you must look absolutely enamoured, innocently peering up at him.

“Spread your–”

Your legs part before he can even finish his sentence, and Taehyung cannot hold back any longer. He barks a laugh before looking down at you with condescending pity.

“You’re so eager,” he teases. “Is one round not enough for you, Angel?”

You can’t resist playing into his game, slightly leaning back to give him a better look at the mess you made of yourself. “Why don’t you get on your knees and find out?” you ask, sure to keep your voice submissive despite the brattiness of your words. 

Even still, you expected him to bend you over the bench, gag you with the towel, and spank you until you’re raw… or perhaps you hoped he would. To your surprise, he does kneel in front of your spread legs. 

Taehyung leans forward, pushing your skirt even further up to examine your arousal-smeared thighs and swollen folds. A throaty goran escapes him at the sight. He licks his lips when your hips buck ever so slightly in response. For a second, you wonder if he might lean in and clean you up with his mouth instead. He is so still, so focused on the way you clench, you want to ask him why he’s hesitating. But then, he starts to wipe the stickiness from your inner thighs, slowly moving inwards towards your folds. His touch is gentle and soft and you tighten your jaw to keep from moaning under his touch.

“You’re not spanking me?”

“Do you want to get spanked?”

Heat floods your cheeks. You try and fail to fight off a guilty smile as he meets your gaze. Biting your lip, you tuck your chin towards your chest, attempting to use the loose strands of hair framing your face to escape his playfully assertive glare. You wonder if you should confess that being spanked is all you can think about right now. You want him to sit on this bench, bend you over his knees, and land open-hand smacks on your cheeks until you’re in tears and on the brink of another needy orgasm–one he will probably deny you from experiencing if you continue to act out.

That thought alone makes you pout.

“No, sir,” you finally whisper, succumbing to his dominance all over again. “I’m sorry.”

The corner of his lips twitch but Taehyung does not allow his smile to overtake his features at your submission. He doesn’t even praise you for being a good girl like he always does. Instead, he continues to gently clean you up. When he’s done, he sets the towel aside to grab your awkwardly bundled g-string and tights. He untangles them within seconds, making you wonder if he’s just good at everything or if he’s done this before. You’re too scared to ask, instead allowing him to dress you one leg at a time. 

“Apologies for the interruption, Mr Kim,” EDEN sudden voices, drawing your attention to the speakers on the ceiling. 

Taehyung helps you stand, continuing to pull your tights up as she continues, “Jimin would like to know if you and Angel will be joining him for breakfast. Jungkook made some vulgar remarks. Would you like me to relay his message?”

“For fuck’s sake, no,” Taehyung replies, finally pulling your skirt back down.

You try to stifle your laughter with a bite of your lip. Parting your lips, you’re about to ask Taehyung how he met someone as unserious as Jungkook when he adds, “Tell them to go out without us.”

“Jungkook has already made breakfast, Mr Kim. Would you still like me to–”

“Yes.”

“Certainly, Mr Kim.”

Your amusement falters. He didn’t even let her finish the sentence before replying, as if the speed of his reply will erase the fact that the food is already set and waiting for them. You stand motionless, studying his expression to find it unnervingly neutral.

Taehyung avoids your confused gaze, bending down to grab the soiled towel. As he tosses it in the dirty hamper by the sanitation station, you can’t help but wonder if perhaps your presence here is more of an intrusion than the wonderful surprise Taehyung made it out to be earlier. Guilt festers in the pit of your stomach again. 

“I really didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung reassures again. “They’re leaving.”

Your brows furrow. Watching him walk back to the bar he removed earlier, you cross your arms over your chest in a poor attempt to soothe your racing heart. You cannot help but wonder why he has been so insistent on them leaving since he realised you were here. At first, you thought he might have just wanted to get you alone to comfort you about all the crazy attention you’ve been getting. However, as you think about how he curved his friends’ questions and how he now has EDEN ushering them out of the building, you wonder if perhaps he does not want you to talk to them.

Maybe you’re overthinking it… Taehyung doesn’t say things he does not mean, especially to you. If he thought that you were intruding, he wouldn’t have told you otherwise when you first arrived. And if he didn’t want you to talk to his friends, he probably wouldn’t have taken you to Jimin’s show or even introduced you to him and Jungkook not even twenty minutes ago. He could just be protective– he did say that to EDEN, right?

There is no need to panic, you tell yourself. 

Taking a deep breath, you try to act natural and put your heels back on. “You know, I don’t mind them,” you carefully say, sneaking a glance at him as you put on your other heel. “They seem fun. I can see why you like them.”

Taehyung retrieves another towel after returning the weighted bar in place. You stand back to your full height and watch his back muscles tense as he wipes his face and neck down from his sweat. His sweat didn’t bother him before, when he was pressing himself against you and talking you through grinding against him.

He’s hesitating, you realise. Why the fuck is he hesitating?

 “Yeah, they’re good guys,” he finally replies. 

You take a step closer, your heels announcing your movement. Taehyung instantly discards his towel and makes his way to his water bottle. You stiffen, watching him avoid your stare– your presence. You wonder again if you should have not come, if you should have called. Did you say the wrong thing? Was the sex not enjoyable? 

Your heart constricts in anxiety and humiliation. You wrap your arms around yourself again, swallowing thickly. If he didn’t like it, why did he cum–lose himself in you the way he did? Why did he help you cum? It can’t just be because you’re friends– he clearly doesn’t treat Jimin and Jungkook like this. You wonder if all this is only for sexual gratification. Maybe he is just using you to get off and he has some sort of weird kink around helping you cum but not cumming himself. But he always says he never pays you for sex so how could both those things be true? 

You can’t do this anymore. The second-guessing, the passive aggressive behaviour, the cryptic responses– you’re done. You don’t want half-hearted replies, handsome smiles or captivating eyes. You just want him. You want his warmth and sincerity. You want everyone to know that you are the cause of it. The whole country is talking about you, looking for you, wanting to catch the briefest glimpse of you because they think you mean something to Taehyung. For a while, you thought you might have. But standing in this empty gym, with him effectively ignoring you as he takes gulps of water, you cannot help but wonder if anyone means anything to him.

Your realisation stirs the echoes of several distant memories on a swaying yacht in the middle of September. Mr Kim doesn’t have friends. He has obsessions and they never last, Marina once told you. You thought she was just jealous and bitter, and perhaps she was. But maybe there was some truth in her declaration. Mrs Gelardson then attempted to comfort you, including you into her generalisation of women Taehyung had bedded. She’s not fond of any of us, she said. Even now those three words, any of us, make your stomach churn with disgust and despair. You didn’t believe you were one of them then. However, the way Taehyung evades the topic of his friends, gives you pause.

Are you really just like the others?

Frustration bubbling over, your fists clench and jaw sets. Tears prick your eyes and you do your best to blink them back, but it’s no use. Soon, a pair of rouge tears fall before others stream down your face. Your stomach knots with misery, chest tightens under the pressure of the emotional storm roaring within you. What makes matters worse is that, in this humiliating moment of passive rejection and fear, you still crave his touch. One embrace against his strong frame and you know everything will be okay.

Taehyung snaps his head up at the sound of your sniffles. His once perfectly neutral features morph into concern. He takes a step towards you only for you to take a step back. 

“Don’t,” you firmly order, despite the impression of a heavy sob in your voice. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

You know what he means. You know he’s referring to the way he thrusted against you, but still nod your head, holding his gaze with conviction. “Yeah, you did,” you confess in the steadiest voice you can muster. “All you ever fucking do is hurt me, Tae.”

Taehyung scoffs. He shakes his head, as if he’s the one exasperated with your behaviour. “This again? Do you even hear yourself? All I ever do is hurt you? I–” he cuts himself off with a groan, clenching his jaw. “Stop twisting–”

“Twisting?” you question, voice trembling with anger. “What is there to twist? You barely say two fucking words to me about your life! You were just avoiding me two seconds ago because I brought up your friends and you wanna stand there and tell me to stop twisting things.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” he orders. His voice is tempered, but a soft impression of a growl still softly resonates in the room. 

Any other day, you would have whimpered at the sound and apologised. You might have even pressed yourself against him and buried your face in the crook of his neck, allowing his strong arms to hold you close and sweet scent to soothe all your worries. But the twinge of pain in your chest refuses to be pacified by the mere sound of his deep, dulcet voice any longer. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” you reply, raising your voice even more. “Not when you’re hiding me from your friends like I’m some secret whore.”

“When have I ever said that to you?” He questions, matching your volume. “When the fuck did you hear the words ‘secret whore’ leave my mouth?”

“Oh, are we going to stand here and pretend that your actions don’t speak louder than your stupid words?”

Taehyung does not take kindly to your sarcasm. He straightens, rolling his shoulders back as he glares at you. It’s not the same glare he gives investors or pitiful women who try to get his attention. It is a glare of pure, unbound rage. Eyes dark, jaw tight, he seethes with frustration, clenching his fists at his side.

You return the glare with every bit of conviction, every notion of pain within you. If he thinks he can intimidate you with nasty looks, he’s sorely mistaken. You will not be deterred this time– not until you get the answers you want. 

“All my actions have been selfish, have they, Angel?” he asks, stepping forward. 

You hold your ground, steeling yourself against the way he continues to use your nickname even while he is so obviously annoyed. You firmly plant your feet to keep from moving towards him, refusing to give into his sensual power. Tears continue to pool in your eyes as you watch him draw nearer. You do not waver your stare as your mind rages with profanities and the unforgivable realsation that: this is not fucking fair.

 “Even when I take you out–”

“That’s for work,” you correct. “We have an agreement.”

“Even when I make you cum?”

You stiffen.

“Is that part of our agreement?” he mockingly questions, now only an arm’s length away. “You’re standing here crying and acting like I’m the fucking bad guy. I want you around, Angel. I want you all to myself.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, momentarily discarding the frustration it once held. His selfishness might be why he pushed his friends away, but it doesn’t not explain why he was avoiding your gaze before. He was being cryptic and distant when you brought them up. That is not the behaviour of someone who just wants to monopolise your attention.

Still, Taehyung must see your resolve wavering in your eyes as he finally towers over you. He doesn’t dare touch you yet, though. And for that you are thankful. You’re not sure you’d be able to completely reject him if he did.

“That’s not good enough,” you whisper. “What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

Another heavy exhale escapes him and he averts his gaze to the left for a moment. You tilt your head to force him to maintain eye contact– the same way he often does with you. He can sigh and purse his lips all he wants but he will look at you while he does so. He must–because if he is going to stand before you and act like his avoidant behaviour has not been damaging, then he will do so while maintaining your cold stare.

“I know nothing about you, Taehyung,” you continue, tone sharp but voice wavering. “Before I met your family, I had no idea what I was walking into because you never told me anything about them. I didn’t even know you had a niece and a nephew or two brothers or that your grandparents basically raised you. I’m not even sure if that’s true because you never explained anything to me.” 

Taehyung flinches.

Your lips twitch into a sneer at the sight, momentary satisfaction soothing your frustrated heart. Good, you think. You want him to feel the agony of never knowing, the tormenting thoughts of what this all means– if it even means anything.

Huffing softly, breathing jagged from suppressed sobs, you steady yourself to add,“But, you know all about me. You know about how my mother–” you cut yourself off to swallow a sob.

Taehyung reaches out to rest a hand to cup your face, but you take a step back with a shake of your head. He retreats with a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets instead.

Finding your voice again as tears freely stream down your face, you continue, “You know my mother’s addicted to painkillers. You know how she hurt me, how she blamed me for it. You know I don’t talk to my family anymore and they don’t care enough to call. You know I don’t have any friends of my own and that I hate work and I feel like burden on Mrs Chu, nearly every fucking day. You know everything about my life and all I know about you is that you build things and have money.” 

“That’s not–”

“Oh right, sorry,” you sarcastically shout, cutting him off, “You have some daddy issues but I barely even understand what they are because you refuse to talk about anything remotely personal.”

“I don’t owe you my past,” he shoots back, voice calm despite that bite in his words. “You don’t get to demand that like you’re entitled to it. You told me about yours willingly.”

You remember that day vividly– about four months ago. While scrolling through social media, you stumbled upon a post from an old high school friend. It was a repost from your older sister’s account accounting her pregnancy. Disbelief twisted in your gut as you clicked on her page. Wiping your tears, you scrolled through all the images of her new house, her trips with her husband, even the progress of the nursery. Each milestone was  a sharp reminder of the moments you were denied.

Your anxious curiosity hadn’t stopped there. You used her account to stalk your mother’s account, then your father’s–even your freeloading brother’s. They have all moved on with you, effectively shunning you from their lives just as your mother promised. No one called, no one asked, and no one cared. You had and will always be their greatest disappointment. You knew that when your mother neglected you, abused you. You knew that when your father pretended not to notice all your bruises and scars she left. You knew that when your lazy brother, who is all but one year younger than you, was rewarded for simply existing in a cis-male body. But looking at their social media accounts at that moment, you felt it deep in your bones too: you do not have a family anymore.

And when Taehyung called that night, you couldn’t stop sniffling or hide the pain in your voice. You told him everything, sobbing into the phone as he shushed and comforted you. 

You were grateful for his support at the time. You remember thinking he was the sweetest, most caring person in the world and all you wanted to do was curl up against his warmth. 

Now, standing before him, his audacity stings like salt in a wound. Suppressing a roll of your eyes, you breathe a humourless laugh. “Are you kidding me? You would not stop pestering me about what’s wrong.”

“You answer the phone upset and you expect me not to ask you what’s wrong?” Taehyung questions, a smile of disbelief playing on his lips. “Right, I forgot– I’m the asshole here. Next time, I won’t give a shit about you.”

“You already don’t!” You scream, voice slightly pitching. Blinking back tears, you ground yourself long enough to get it all off your chest. “What kind of person, let alone a friend– because that’s what we are, right?– would hide someone they care about from their friends? You were laughing with them! They’re obviously your friends, so don’t you dare deny it, Kim Taehyung!” You spit, standing on your toes in a poor attempt to solidify your own dominance.

Taehyung does not take well to your use of his full name. He tilts his head, tonguing his cheek only to tighten his jaw. “You have–”

“I’m not done,” you seethe cutting him off. You almost don’t recognise your own voice, so sharp and full of contempt.

He blinks and you swear you catch him shiver under the icy tone of your words. 

“If I meant anything to you, you’d stop pretending like I don’t exist in front of your friends. You’re not the asshole here but you’re treating me like you’re embarrassed to be with me?” you ask with just as much vehemence in your tone.

“Embarrassed?” He repeats, baffled. His shoulder previously slouched under your steeled gaze, square as he towers over you. “You’re my plus-one, Angel. Why would I drag you around with me if I was embarrassed to be seen with you?”

“You–”

“I’m not done,” he hisses, matching your previous tone. 

You curl inwards, lowering your chin towards your chest and peering up at him with tear-brimmed eyes. Taehyung’s strong resolve momentarily wavers at the sight. He slowly raises his hand as if he’s about to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear, but then lowers it– as if thinking better of it.

A quiet sigh of relief escapes your pouty lips. You’re not sure what you would have done if he touched you so gingerly. 

“I’m not embarrassed by you, Angel– I’m not,” he emphasises when you scoff. “I am not trying to hurt you, eithe– Don’t look at me like that.” He orders, voice gruff with exhaustion and annoyance. “I want you here with me– I want you here all the fucking time!”

“You’re so full of shit!”

The word tumble out of your mouth, laden with hurt and resentment. You don’t stop them, nor do you regret them, puffing your chest out and holding your head high. Tears stream freely down your face and you don’t try to blink them away anymore. Exhausted, you cannot handle another second of his half-truths anymore. 

Taehyung stiffens. His eyes darken in a way that is not greedy nor indulgent but rather sinister. He stands so still, so tall, staring at you with an intensity that makes your stomach twist with desire and fury. His face is a portrait of calculated calm, as though the heat in his gaze sparks with simmering anger. 

“Excuse me?” He quietly questions, voice so deep and tempered. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“Say it again.”

You shake your head. 

Taehyung raises a brow. 

You press your lips together to hold back a sob. It slightly breaks through a stifled sigh. You shake your head with more certainty, asking in a voice so frayed,“What are we doing?”

A notion of confusion settles on his features. “What do you mean?”

“What is this? What are we?” You finally ask, shakily inhaling.

The flaming wrath that once burned in his gaze slowly diminishes. His jaw slightly slackens, tension softening– upon your questions or the sound of your broken voice, you don’t know and can’t be bothered to care. 

Licking your lips, you swallow the lump in your throat, let out a trembling breath and conclude, “Taehyung, I am not your friend.”

“That’s not–”

“We stopped being just friends a long time ago!” You suddenly shout over him. With a gentle shove against his chest, you exasperatedly add, “You know that, don’t pretend you don’t!”

Taehyung does not budge even an inch from your shove. His chest is a wall of strength, which you regret to realise still makes your toes curl. You push aside your neediness, holding on tightly to your anger.

“Tell me what to do one more time,” he roars, “I dare you!”

Goosebumps prick your skin, despite yourself. You know he doesn’t respond well to being ordered around and that maybe, if you really want him to understand you, you should have approached this with a more level head. You should have calmly expressed your frustrations and not shouted or sworn. However, you’ve tried to be patient before and he always says he will be better only to disappoint you some other way. 

You can’t keep doing this. 

Letting out a loud groan of frustration, you push him again, not caring if he doesn’t move at all. “This isn’t a game, Taehyung. I don’t want this anymore,” you gesture between the two of you. “I want to know where we stand. I want to walk into a room with you and not have to worry about how to introduce myself or which lie to sell,” you grip onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his soft skin, “I want you! I want us!”

“Why would you even want that?" He shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

Your hands drop to your sides in defeat.

"If you think the media’s bad now, it’ll be worse the moment they know we’re anything more than friends,” he continues, “And don’t get me started on my grandparents. They'll expect every little detail about you.” 

The idea of being his grandparents prodding you, doting over you and accepting you as one of their own fills you with a warmth that makes you sick to your stomach. You swallow back the rising bile in your throat at the realisation that this reality of a serious relationship is ridiculous to him. He doesn’t think it’s worth it and you realise that every worry you have ever thought about him leaving, ending this friendship is suddenly materialising before your eyes. 

There is no use in holding back now, you decide. If you are going to walk away from this, from him, you might as well get it all out.   

“I want that!” 

“Why would you want to put yourself through that?” Taehyung asks again, his patience thinning with the sharpness of his baritone voice.

“Because I like you, you idiot!”

“I swear to God, Angel– Insult me one more time.”

An incredulous chuckle escapes your trembling lips. 

Did he just threaten me?

You just bore your heart to him. You told him what you want, hurt and furious and afraid of losing him. You confessed your feelings as best as you could. You told him what you want  and he threatens you because you gave him a well earned insult. 

Shaking your head, you take a step back. “You’re unbelievable,” you whisper, before turning towards the elevator. You don’t bother wiping your tears or fixing your makeup, not sparing him a second glance as you pick up your pace. You want–need to put as much distance as possible between you and him. 

“Don’t walk away from me,” he orders, following after you. 

Whirling back to face him, you summon the last bit of your rage from deep in your chest and demand, “Don’t tell–”

Taehyung closes the distance between you within two strides. He cups your face with a soothing tenderness that ignites shivers down your spine. His lips collide with yours without hesitation– combusting your heart with divine delight. For a moment, the world trickles away like raindrops on a foggy window, slow and then all at once. You cannot remember how you got here or what prompted this grand gesture or what your name is as he sears his own upon your lips instead. 

Soft and sweet, his hands trail down your body to your waist, pulling you closer against him. You melt into his touch, arching your back to mold yourself into him. Running a hand through his hand, you use the other to steady yourself with a grip on his shoulder.

Taehyung breaks the kiss with a quiet moan. His chest heaves heavily against yours, eyes searching. 

You furrow your brows. Licking your lips, you feel the heat his mouth left. “You…You kissed me,” you murmur. “Why–”

“Are you sure you want this?” Taehyung asks again. 

Confusion folds your features. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing yourself as humanly close as possible to him and fervently nod. “Yes,” you practically beg. “Tae, I want to really be yours. I don’t want to keep second guessing us anymore.”

He sighs, nudging your nose with his. ““I don’t either,” he mutters.

Your eyes widen at his confession. You wonder how long he’s been thinking about this– about you like this. “Why didn’t you say something before?” you can’t stop yourself from asking.

Taehyung swallows thickly. He licks his lips before replying, “I don’t know.”

You raise a brow. That’s not something Kim Taehyung often admits. Searching his eyes for deception, you inhale deeply and shake your head. Your noses brush, coaxing a small smile on his lips. You suppress your own at the sight, intent on waiting for a serious response. 

Sighing, Taehyung tongues his cheek. “I didn’t want to ruin what we have,” he finally confesses. “And I really did want to keep you to myself, Angel. I like the way you look at me when it’s just us.”

You shift against him, legs pressing tightly together. “And how do I look at you?”

A smile tugs on the corners of his lip, and he hovers them over yours again. “You look at me like you don’t know anything but me,” he rasps, voice thick with possession. “Like I’m the one thing you need and nothing else matters.”

You bite back your whimper, not allowing yourself to completely succumb to him just yet. You can feel his hot, minty breath panting against your parted lips and, despite the intense urge to feel his tongue pushing against yours in your mouth, you fight against kissing him again.

You cannot ignore your lingering doubts at the fact that he has yet to define what you are. If he simply calls you his friend again, you might throw your shoe at him in frustration. 

“So where does that leave us then?” you question. 

Taehyung brings a hand up to wipe away the last of your tears. He gently swipes his thumb under your eyes, removing your smudged mascara. “Together,” he whispers, “as a couple.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, struggling to contain its excitement. “So you’d be my boyfriend?”

Taehyung smirks at the label. Nodding, he hums, “That’s right, princess.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

[anticapitalistclown]

can I please request thigh riding Gitae pleaseee 🤤

sure! (lookism fans are fast af bc this man has only been present on two chapters and I already got 5 requests of him)

Thigh riding, Gitae x fem!reader smut scenario

warnings: exhibitionism, dry humping (not proofread)

You walked around in search of him, making some of his men turn their eyes as you walked pass, a delicious sight yet forbidden to taste, you were the apple of Eden's garden and Gitae made sure it got to all other men.

You knocked on his office door, his right-hand men opened it for you signaling you to come in, him leaving but not after scanning you up and down, you ignored it and approached Gitae, he looked more grumpy than usual "planning murder?" you joked and hugged him from behind "a few" he replied, his hands traced your arms "let me see you again" you did as he requested and sat on his desk, your dress was revealing, blame it to Mexico's summer weather.

Gitae sighed "if people could eat with their eyes my men would have a feast with you" you pouted at him "they're eating you with their eyes every day" he glared at you making you shiver, yet you were his darling for something "then don't blame me if someday they all turn blind" Gitae laughed at your joke "I don't care about how your men look at me, I just need you to focus on me" you sat on his lap and kissed his lips "just you" Gitae relaxed his back on his chair rest his hands tracing your thighs then skillfully lifting your dress up to your stomach, revealing the panties he bought for you, his feral wicked smile finally appeared, slowly he lowered the straps of your dress, undressing you and exposing your breasts to him, he looked at the window, beyond the plants that decorated it, Gitae had a full view of the house and so of his men who he perfectly knew were watching too "let's give them a nice view before I turn them blind".

His tongue always favored your right nipple sucking deliciously at it, his hand painfully pinching at your left, making you grunt from pleasure, you arched your back and grind against his leg, calming that pulsating feeling at your core, your moans echoing the room. Gitae noticed how you were using him from some relief, he smiled and rested his back again on his desk chair, you looked at him confused "do it" he pressed his thumb on your lips "if you want to get off so bad you better cum on my thigh" you sucked on his thumb and took off your panties, leaving them next to the stash of cocaine and over the counted money, his thumb pressed harder against your tongue showing his impatience.

Without any hesitation you started to grind against his thigh, your wetness soaking by each grind on his jeans, not that you could focus longer on the mess you were making on him, "focus on me" Gitae forced your face to look directly at his eyes, he inserted two of his fingers on your mouth for you suck, a lewd scene that had him amused for sure. You grabbed at his arm using it to steady yourself, your pace went faster making you moan harder you were feeling it, yet you couldn't reach for it, Gitae felt it, how your moans were more desperate and your pace slowed, he pulled his fingers out of your moth and left a chuckle, "can't cum yourself? even when just fucking my thigh and can't fucking cum?" you whined at his mockery "I need you to help me cum" you always knew how to boost his ego, his hands grabbed at your hips, you hugged him and with ease he moved your hips controlling your pace, to add more pleasure he bounced his leg making you whimper on his neck, the sounds that left your mouth were heard from outside the room, Gitae knew his men were jealous of the show you were giving, some curious eyes looking at you both from the outside, trying to be secretive yet Gitae already knew.

He kissed you fiercely, the bouncing of his leg causing more friction making your legs tremble, you were close "cum" he kissed your neck "cum, so I can fuck you" you moaned at his demand and made eye contact with him "I'm cumming I swear" your body tensed as you came on his thigh "well done, mi amor" he praised you and slapped your ass cheek "cumin on my thigh as a good slut" he lifted you and placed your back on his desk, all over his money, you heard the familiar sound of his belt unbuckling "gonna fuck you just as the slut you are".

[reignpage]

i saw this one tiktok of this couple with 2 different aesthetics and they each wear a jewelry piece that matches the others aesthetic and i was wondering do any of the modern au guys wear a piece or has an item that symbolizes their gf?

(its so funny to imagine gojo bright ass with the most gothic bracelet on💀)

gojo wears a chastity belt whenever he misbehaves. IM KIDDING or am I? no gojo takes random shit from her, just whatever goes well with his outfit cause he likes to match her. so sometimes it's one of those cross necklaces, sometimes it's lace bracelets. he has a t shirt of Gomez and morticia, he wears that often. he also has a keyring he got Lego to make just for him, of a goth bride and a snowman with sunglasses. he got it as a joke and showed reader, reader laughed and really liked it. you can imagine his face, brightening impossibly and a grin growing till it hurts, and he never goes anywhere without it

geto's reader gave him a stuffed dragon. he has it on his desk in the office. geto also often uses her scrunchies since he forgets his own hair ties. also one day, he saw her scribbling absentmindedly on a post it note, some little symbol and he got it tattooed. didn't even really think about it. it's on his collarbone. he thought getting it on his heart is too cliche and cheesy and he's obvi too chic for that. reader kisses it right before she goes down on her knees. that always makes his cock harder

choso has a sketch of her he keeps in his wallet. they also swap rings pretty often. hers are small so it just about fits on his pinky but for an anniversary gift, reader went to a ring making workshop and made one for choso, they jokingly created their own logo or family crest (don't ask me what it looks like I am not an artsy person lol) so the ring has that on it. he keeps it on a chain cause its closest to his heart even tho it fits his fingers

toji has newspaper clippings of reader's work. he keeps them in his car. he has a picture of her sleeping on his chest on his lock screen. he gets her to leave a lipstick print on every new basketball, on his new jerseys and shit. he considers it lucky.

Nanami's reader gave him a personalised lab coat with their ship name embroidered on the chest. he loves it. she leaves boudoir pics of her in his pockets for him to find. she thinks it's funny. he tells her off but he always searches his pockets subconsciously. he has the whole cheesy boyfriend starter kit. picture of her on his desk, in his lock screen, in his wallet etc

sukuna still wears her hair tie. he never goes anywhere without it. he wears it underneath his Rolex. one time some guy pointed it out and tried to reach for it, he did not hesitate to break that guy's arm. he also kept her President of Eden's Student Council nameplate. he has it in his desk drawer. and he kept her diary, even has that crumpled piece of paper framed in their bedroom lol

[doomssoiree]

DAYDREAM SERIES(txt ver.)

❤︎ ────living through five daydreams with five dreamy boys.

── pre-ordering daydream series…

DREAM #1:

(수빈)soobin. hold me down.

TROPE: office romance, boss + assistant, co-workers to lovers

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, slice of life

I was wondering, could you hold me down?

── SOOBIN BEGINS to realize he has more than a tiny infatuation for you after you take care of him and his morning hangover, prompting him to visit unannounced in the evening to sort out his feelings with you. little did he know, that would land him in a tub full of bubbles with you.

delivered.

DREAM #2:

(연준)yeonjun. say yes to heaven.

TROPE: introduction by hookup, strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, vacation romance

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, angst

say yes to heaven, say yes to me.

── AFTER A wild night out with your friends, you wake to find a pretty stranger in your bed, only dreading what could have happened between you two the night before; fortunately, the stranger doesn't give you the chance to regret and wallow in self-shame, quick to bring comfort to your sorrows.

delivering…

DREAM #3:

(태현)taehyun. eden.

TROPE: friends to lovers, musician + lyricist, hurt/comfort, forced proximity

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, angst

heavenly father, I know I'm stuck in my ways, searching for a brighter day.

── A STRUGGLING musician finds himself in a depressive state during a tough time in his career, in the midst of finding a new lyricist and unable to find inspiration for his album. on the way to a venue for a concert, he meets you, a gorgeous barista with a passion for singing and a book full of unused lyrics. he convinces you to help him write for his album and later finds himself stuck in your apartment due to fans and a delayed flight, creating a spark between the two of you.

delivering…

DREAM #4:

(범규)beomgyu. kiss of life.

TROPE: strangers to lovers, fated lovers, vacation romance, opposites attract

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff, mild angst

there must have been an angel by my side, something heavenly from above, that led me to you.

── BEOMGYU SAVES you from nearly drowning after you friends thought it was funny to throw you in the water, prompting him to steal you away and make you spend the rest of your vacation with him. the five days spent alone with him creates sparks and romantic tension that can only be defined as fate.

delivering…

DREAM #5:

(휴닝카이)hueningkai. pigment.

TROPE: friends to lovers, photographer/painter + musician, roommate romance, artist becomes the muse

TAGS: nsfw, smut, vanilla, fluff

I would color every moment; make it feel like it's forever.

── HUENINGKAI FINDS that you always settle for being the artist and never the muse, so he decides to make you the muse by writing a song about you and hold a little concept photoshoot. as he captures each moment, he finally realizes why you like being the artist so much, because as he focuses on making each photo perfect, he realizes just how divine you truly are.

delivering…

THANK YOU for pre-ordering the daydream series, I hope this package finds you well!

── ciao belle❀

©doomssoiree

[mybelovedwoo]

sound of love pt.1

hongjoong x f!reader

fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, work rivalry/ wc: 4.1k

warnings: arguments, alcohol, kissing

note: this is part one of my first ever hongjoong fic. hope you all like it!! part 2 is coming soon. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics, you can apply here!

Hongjoong masterlist - Main masterlist

The music store was a haven for audiophiles and professionals alike, a labyrinth of aisles filled with the latest equipment and vintage treasures. Hongjoong navigated through the store with purpose, his mind set on one specific item: the latest model of a high-end speaker that had been receiving rave reviews. It was the final piece he needed to perfect his home studio setup.

As he approached the display where the speakers were usually showcased, his heart sank. Only one speaker remained, perched precariously on the edge of the shelf. Quickening his pace, Hongjoong reached out to grab it.

Just as his fingers brushed the box, another hand darted out and seized it. Hongjoong looked up, startled, and found himself face-to-face with a young woman. She was about his age, with determined eyes and a firm grip on the speaker.

"Excuse me, but I believe I saw this first," Hongjoong said, trying to keep his voice polite but firm.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her expression unyielding. "And I believe possession is nine-tenths of the law," she replied, clutching the speaker tighter.

Hongjoong's frustration began to bubble up. "Look, I've been searching for this model for weeks. I need it for a project that's due soon."

"So do I," she retorted, her tone equally firm. "I've been saving up for this, and I can't let it go now."

Their argument drew the attention of other shoppers, but neither seemed to care. Each was determined to walk away with the speaker, and neither was willing to back down.

"Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement," Hongjoong suggested, trying to inject some reason into the conversation. "I'll pay you double what it costs."

The woman's eyes flashed with defiance. "It's not about the money. It's about principle. I got here first, and I need this speaker just as much as you do."

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Okay, how about this: I really need this speaker for a client project. If you let me have it, I'll owe you one. I can help you with your project, whatever you need."

The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, her expression softening slightly. But then she shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I have my own deadlines to meet. I can't afford to wait."

Before Hongjoong could respond, she turned and walked towards the checkout counter, the speaker still firmly in her grasp. He stood there, stunned and speechless, watching her retreating figure.

"I'll never forgive her," he muttered under his breath, watching her leave the store.

-

Days turned into weeks, and the incident at the music store remained a sore spot for Hongjoong. His colleagues at the producer team had noticed his mood but thought it best not to pry. That was until the day their boss, Eden, introduced the newest member of their team.

"Everyone, meet Y/n, our new producer. She's exceptionally talented and will be a great addition to our team," Eden announced.

Hongjoong's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Y/n stood before him, the same girl who had taken the speaker. Their eyes locked, and recognition flashed in Y/n's eyes too.

"You?" they both said in unison.

Their colleagues looked between them curiously. "Do you two know each other?" one asked.

Hongjoong quickly composed himself and shook his head. "Only in passing," he said, forcing a polite smile.

"Yeah, just in passing," Y/n echoed, mirroring his expression.

Eden, oblivious to the undercurrents, continued with the introductions. "Y/n, let me show you around," one of their teammates offered, sensing the tension between Hongjoong and Y/n.

Y/n nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm evident as she followed her colleague around the studio. She marveled at the advanced equipment, asked insightful questions about ongoing projects, and eagerly absorbed every detail of her new workspace.

As they passed the recording booths, the sound mixers, and the editing bays, Y/n couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was where she belonged, and she was determined to make a mark. She took mental notes of everything, from the placement of the soundproof panels to the state-of-the-art software they used.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong watched from a distance, occasionally catching glimpses of Y/n's genuine excitement. Despite his initial resolve to maintain distance and rivalry, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about the person behind the fierce determination he had encountered at the music store.

Finally, they arrived at the main studio room where the team often collaborated. It was a spacious area filled with instruments, computers, and a massive mixing console.

"And this is where the magic happens," their colleague said with a smile. "You'll spend a lot of time here."

Y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement. "This is amazing. I can't wait to get started."

Eden stepped forward, clapping his hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, team, let's get back to work. Y/n, feel free to dive in and ask for help if you need anything."

As the team dispersed, Y/n found her designated workstation and began setting up her equipment. She was eager to prove herself, not just to her new colleagues but also to herself.

-

In the following week, Hongjoong and Y/n navigated their roles within the producer team with a mixture of competition and cooperation. While they maintained a professional demeanor during work hours, their interactions were often laced with subtle challenges and occasional disagreements.

"Y/n, I think this beat would sound better with a different tempo," Hongjoong suggested during one of their collaborative sessions.

Y/n frowned slightly, considering his suggestion. "I appreciate your input, but I think the current tempo captures the mood we're going for," she replied, her voice firm but not confrontational.

Their colleagues observed their dynamic with bemusement, unsure whether to intervene or let the rivalry play out naturally. Despite their differences, Hongjoong and Y/n's combined efforts yielded impressive results, garnering praise from clients and industry professionals alike.

It had been over a week since Y/n started working with the team, and she was gradually finding her rhythm. As the team gathered for their daily briefing, the door swung open, and Maddox, one of the senior producers, walked in.

"Maddox! Welcome back!" Eden greeted him warmly. "Maddox, meet Y/n, our newest producer. She joined us while you were away."

Maddox's face lit up when he saw Y/n. "Y/n! It's great to see you here," he said, pulling her into a hug.

Y/n beamed and hugged him back. "Maddox, I've missed you!"

Their colleagues watched the scene with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Most of them assumed this was the first time Y/n and Maddox were meeting, given that Maddox had been away when Y/n started. Hongjoong, however, found himself feeling puzzled and somewhat uneasy at their close interaction.

"You two seem pretty close," one of their colleagues commented, raising an eyebrow.

Maddox smiled, not missing a beat. "Yeah, Y/n's incredibly talented. It's great to have her on the team."

The team accepted this explanation without further questions, assuming that Maddox and Y/n had simply hit it off quickly. Hongjoong, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to their relationship than met the eye.

As the day went on, Hongjoong found himself watching Y/n and Maddox more closely. They worked together seamlessly, finishing each other's sentences and sharing inside jokes that no one else seemed to get. It was clear they had a strong connection, and Hongjoong's curiosity only grew.

During a break, Hongjoong approached Y/n, trying to appear casual. "So, you and Maddox seem pretty close," he remarked.

Y/n looked up from her notes, her expression neutral. "Yeah, Maddox has been really supportive. It's nice to have someone like him around."

Hongjoong nodded slowly, not entirely satisfied with her answer. "You know, it's just... interesting how quickly you two have bonded."

Y/n smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Music brings people together, I guess."

Hongjoong didn't leave it at that. His frustration bubbled up, unable to hold back any longer. "Come on, Y/n. Don't give me that. There's clearly more going on here. People don't just bond like that overnight."

Y/n's eyes flashed with annoyance. "And why does it matter so much to you, Hongjoong? Why can't you just accept that we're friends?"

"Because," he snapped, "you're hiding something. It's obvious. And I don't like working with someone who isn't being honest with the team."

Y/n bristled at his accusation. "I am being honest. Just because you don't understand something doesn't mean it's not real."

Hongjoong took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Then explain it to me. What are you hiding?"

Y/n stood her ground, meeting his gaze head-on. "That's none of your business, Hongjoong. You don't get to demand answers from me just because you're suspicious."

Their argument caught the attention of their colleagues, who glanced over with concern. Sensing the rising tension, Maddox intervened, stepping between them.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Maddox asked, looking from Y/n to Hongjoong.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. "Nothing. Just a difference of opinion."

Maddox looked at Y/n, who nodded, her expression still tight with anger. "It's fine, Maddox. Just a misunderstanding."

Maddox didn't seem entirely convinced but decided to let it drop for now. "Alright. Let's focus on the work, okay?"

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged one last glare before turning back to their respective tasks, the air between them still charged with unresolved tension.

-

The next day, the atmosphere in the studio was tense. Y/n and Hongjoong did their best to avoid each other, focusing intently on their own projects. Their colleagues noticed the shift, but no one said anything, hoping the tension would resolve itself.

However, Eden had other plans. Late in the morning, he called for a meeting in the main conference room. As everyone gathered, Eden addressed the team with a determined look.

"Alright, we have a new project that requires immediate attention," Eden began. "It's a high-profile client, and they want something fresh and innovative. Y/n and Hongjoong, I want you two to lead this project together."

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged glances, both clearly unhappy with the arrangement but unable to voice their objections.

Eden continued, "I know you two have your differences, but your combined talents can produce something incredible. This is an important opportunity for both of you to show what you can do."

Hongjoong forced a tight smile. "Of course, Eden. We'll make it work."

Y/n nodded, her expression equally strained. "Absolutely. We'll get it done."

Eden clapped his hands, oblivious to the underlying tension. "Great! The client is coming in tomorrow for a briefing. I expect you two to be prepared with some initial ideas."

After the meeting, Y/n and Hongjoong stayed behind, facing each other awkwardly.

"We need to put aside whatever this is and focus on the project," Y/n said firmly.

Hongjoong nodded, though his frustration was evident. "Agreed. Let's just get through this."

They spent the rest of the day brainstorming ideas, their interactions polite but distant. The creative process, usually filled with excitement and energy, felt forced and mechanical. As the hours passed, the studio gradually emptied until it was just the two of them left.

Y/n glanced at the clock, then at Hongjoong. "It's getting really late. Maybe we should wrap it up for today and get some sleep. We can start fresh tomorrow."

Hongjoong looked up, irritation flashing in his eyes. "Are you serious? We have a lot of work to do, and you're talking about going home to sleep?"

Y/n frowned, taken aback by his tone. "It's not that I don't take this seriously. I just think we'd be more productive if we weren't exhausted."

Hongjoong stood up, pacing the room. "We don't have the luxury of time, Y/n. This is a high-profile client, and we need to deliver something exceptional. If that means staying here overnight, then so be it."

Y/n sighed, rubbing her temples. "I get that, but pushing ourselves to the brink isn't going to help. We need rest to think clearly."

Hongjoong stopped and faced her, his expression hard. "Maybe you can afford to take it easy, but I can't. This project is too important. If you're not willing to put in the effort, you can leave. I'll handle it myself."

Without waiting for her response, Hongjoong turned and walked out of the room, needing to clear his head. He stepped outside into the cool night air, taking deep breaths to calm his racing thoughts. He felt a mix of frustration and guilt, wondering if he had been too harsh.

After a few minutes, he decided to head back in, determined to push through the night. When he returned to the studio, he found Y/n's workstation empty. His heart sank, and anger flared up again. She really left, he thought bitterly. Just great.

He sat down and tried to focus on the project, but his mind kept drifting back to Y/n. Half an hour later, just as he was about to give up on any progress for the night, the door opened, and Y/n walked in carrying a bag of take-out food.

"I thought we might need some fuel if we're going to work all night," she said, setting the bag down and pulling out containers.

Hongjoong stared at her in surprise. "You... you went to get food?"

Y/n nodded, handing him a container. "Yeah. I figured we'd both be more productive if we had something to eat."

Hongjoong felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had jumped to conclusions, assuming she had abandoned the project. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have doubted you."

Y/n shrugged, offering a small smile. "It's okay. We're both under a lot of stress. Let's just focus on getting this done."

They sat down and started eating, the tension between them easing slightly. As they ate, they talked about the project, bouncing ideas off each other and finding new energy in their collaboration.

Hongjoong found himself increasingly impressed by Y/n's dedication and creativity. He realized that despite their differences, they could achieve great things together. And for the first time since their argument, he felt a glimmer of hope that they might actually make this partnership work.

As the night wore on, Y/n and Hongjoong found a rhythm in their work. They shared ideas, critiqued each other's suggestions, and slowly but surely, the project began to take shape. The food had revitalized them, and the earlier animosity was replaced by a shared sense of purpose.

Around 3 AM, Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, stretching his tired muscles. "I think we have a solid draft."

Y/n looked over the screen, nodding. "Yeah, it's good. We'll need to refine it, but it's a strong foundation."

There was a brief moment of silence, the intensity of the work finally giving way to exhaustion. Y/n glanced at Hongjoong, her voice softer. "You really care about this project, don't you?"

Hongjoong sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I do. It's not just about the work. It's about proving something to myself, to everyone."

Y/n nodded slowly. "I get that. I care too. Maybe we just have different ways of showing it."

Hongjoong looked at her, his expression less guarded than before. "Maybe you're right. Sorry for snapping at you earlier."

Y/n offered a small smile. "It's okay. We're both under a lot of pressure. Let's just focus on getting this done."

Hongjoong nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Agreed. Let's make this the best project we've ever done."

-

The next morning, the team reconvened at the studio. Hongjoong arrived early, as usual, feeling the weight of the long night but also a sense of accomplishment. He was surprised to see Maddox and Y/n arriving together, stepping out of the same car.

Maddox waved at Hongjoong as they walked towards the entrance. "Morning, Hongjoong! How's it going?"

Hongjoong forced a smile, trying to mask his curiosity. "Morning. It's going well. You two came together?"

Y/n nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, Maddox offered me a ride. We live close to each other."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and suspicion swirling in his mind. "I see. Well, it's good to be early. We have a lot to cover today."

As they entered the studio, Hongjoong couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. He had always been good at reading people, and the ease between Y/n and Maddox seemed more than just friendly. He couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something he was missing.

They gathered in the conference room for a quick briefing with Eden. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as they prepared to present their progress to the client. Despite the previous night's tension, Hongjoong and Y/n managed to put forth a united front, their collaboration bearing the fruits of their hard work.

Eden glanced over their work, nodding approvingly. "This is excellent. You two did a great job. The client is going to love it."

Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged a look, both relieved and satisfied. It was clear that despite their personal differences, their professional synergy was undeniable. After the meeting, everyone returned to their individual tasks, the studio buzzing with renewed energy and optimism.

The afternoon passed quickly as they immersed themselves in their work. Each person focused on their projects, the usual hum of creativity filling the room. Around mid-afternoon, Eden called for everyone's attention with a broad smile on his face.

"I've got some fantastic news, team," Eden announced, his excitement palpable. "The client loved the music you created, Y/n and Hongjoong. In fact, they were so impressed that they've asked us to produce an entire album for them!"

A chorus of cheers and applause erupted in the room. Y/n and Hongjoong exchanged another look, this time filled with mutual pride and accomplishment. The tension between them seemed to dissolve in the face of their shared success.

"That's incredible!" Y/n said, beaming. "I'm so glad they liked it."

"Me too," Hongjoong admitted, a genuine smile lighting up his face. "This is a huge opportunity for all of us."

One of their colleagues clapped his hands together. "This calls for a celebration! How about we all go out tonight, have some drinks, and toast to our success?"

The suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement from everyone. The idea of unwinding and celebrating their hard work was appealing to the whole team.

"Count me in," Maddox said, grinning. "We all deserve a break after the week we've had."

"Absolutely," Eden agreed. "Let's meet at that new bar downtown around eight. Drinks are on me."

The rest of the day flew by in a flurry of excitement and productivity. As evening approached, everyone began to wrap up their work and prepare for the night out. Y/n and Hongjoong, despite their previous tensions, found themselves exchanging smiles and light-hearted comments, the success of their project serving as a bridge between them.

-

By eight o'clock, the team gathered at the trendy new bar downtown. The atmosphere was lively, with music playing and patrons enjoying their evening. The team found a large table and settled in, the mood festive and relaxed.

Eden raised his glass, calling for a toast. "To Y/n and Hongjoong, for their incredible work and for bringing us this amazing opportunity. And to the rest of the team, for always giving their best. Here's to more successes and good times ahead!"

"Cheers!" everyone echoed, clinking their glasses together.

As the night went on, the initial formality gave way to laughter and camaraderie. Stories were shared, and everyone relaxed, enjoying the rare opportunity to unwind together.

Hongjoong found himself next to Y/n, and he took a moment to acknowledge their recent journey. "You know, despite everything, I'm glad we managed to pull this off."

Y/n smiled, taking a sip of her drink. "Me too. I think we proved that we make a pretty good team, even if we don't always see eye to eye."

"Agreed," Hongjoong said, his tone sincere. "Maybe this project will be the start of something good."

Y/n nodded, feeling a sense of hope. "Let's make this album even better than the single. We can really do something special."

As the evening progressed, Hongjoong noticed Maddox and Y/n sharing a quiet conversation and laughing together. The ease between them was unmistakable, and Hongjoong's earlier suspicions resurfaced, but he pushed them aside. Tonight was about celebration, not secrets.

The night stretched on, filled with laughter, music, and a shared sense of achievement. The barriers between Y/n and Hongjoong continued to lower, replaced by a budding respect and the beginnings of a friendship. As the drinks kept flowing, the team grew increasingly merry. By the end of the night, most of them were thoroughly drunk, including Y/n. Hongjoong, however, had only gotten a little tipsy, careful not to lose control.

Eden, who was also quite inebriated, noticed Y/n struggling to stay upright as she laughed at something Maddox said. He turned to Hongjoong, his voice slurring slightly. "Hongjoong, can you make sure Y/n gets home safely? It's dangerous for her to go alone."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, momentarily caught off guard. "Why me?"

Eden gave him a lopsided grin. "Because you're the most sober of them all, my friend. And someone has to make sure she's safe."

Realizing there was no point in arguing, Hongjoong nodded. "Alright, I'll take her."

Hongjoong gently helped Y/n to her feet, supporting her as they made their way out of the bar. Y/n leaned heavily on him, her steps unsteady.

"Where do you live?" Hongjoong asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

Y/n blinked a few times, trying to focus. "Not far... just a few blocks from here."

Hongjoong nodded, guiding her down the street. The cool night air helped clear his head a bit more, and he kept a firm grip on Y/n, making sure she didn't stumble.

As they walked, Y/n glanced up at him, her eyes slightly glazed. "You know, Hongjoong, you're not so bad."

Hongjoong chuckled softly. "Thanks, Y/n. You're not so bad yourself."

She giggled, the sound light and carefree. "I mean it. I know we've had our... differences, but tonight was fun."

"Yeah, it was," Hongjoong agreed. "And we make a good team. We just need to remember that."

They reached Y/n's apartment building, and Hongjoong helped her up the steps. She fumbled for her keys, eventually finding them and managing to unlock the door. Before she stepped inside, she turned to Hongjoong, her expression more serious than he'd seen all night.

"Thank you for walking me home," she said softly.

"Anytime," Hongjoong replied, meaning it. "Get some rest. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

Y/n smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Goodnight, Hongjoong."

"Goodnight, Y/n."

She closed the door behind her, and Hongjoong stood there for a moment, feeling a strange sense of fulfillment. The night had taken an unexpected turn, but it had also brought a new layer of understanding between them.

As he walked back to his own place, he couldn't help but feel that their rivalry had given way to something far more valuable: a foundation for a true partnership, and perhaps even a friendship. And with that thought, he looked forward to what they could achieve together.

-

The next day, Hongjoong walked into the studio, still feeling the lingering effects of the late night celebration. He greeted his colleagues with a nod, making his way to his workstation. As he approached his desk, he noticed a neatly wrapped present sitting in the center of it.

Curious, Hongjoong picked up the gift, inspecting the wrapping. It was simple but elegant, with a small card attached. He opened the card first, reading the handwritten note inside:

"For your hard work. I hope you like it!"

His eyes widened in surprise. The handwriting was unmistakable—he immediately knew it was from Y/n. With growing anticipation, he carefully unwrapped the gift. Inside was the very speaker they had argued over at the music store.

Hongjoong stared at the speaker, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He couldn't believe she had gone out of her way to get it for him. He picked up the card again, reading the note once more, a smile slowly spreading across his face. Determined to express his gratitude, he decided to find Y/n immediately.

He headed to the section of the studio where Y/n usually worked. As he approached, he saw her through the glass window, deeply engrossed in her work with her headphones on. Hongjoong took a moment to steady his nerves before stepping inside.

Y/n was so focused on her project that she didn't notice Hongjoong until he was standing right next to her. Sensing his presence, she took off her headphones and looked at him curiously.

"What's this?" Hongjoong asked, holding up the card.

Y/n's eyes widened, a flicker of worry crossing her face. She stood up, her hands clasped nervously. "I'm sorry, I thought you would be happy about it."

Before she could say more, Hongjoong closed the distance between them and kissed her, the action sudden and impulsive. Y/n's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the kiss, her hands finding their way to his shoulders.

Just as they were lost in the moment, the door to the studio swung open, and Maddox walked in. He froze, staring at them in shock and anger. "What are you doing with my sister???" he demanded, his voice rising in disbelief.

Y/n and Hongjoong broke apart, both of them turning to face Maddox. Y/n looked horrified, while Hongjoong appeared completely taken aback.

"Your sister?" Hongjoong repeated, his mind struggling to process the information.

-

(part 2 coming soon!)

[world-of-aus]

Hi, hello, and Welcome To today's Gym Thots

Feat. Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar Reader

On today's Gym Thots I bring you our favorite duo listen i run with whatever little inspirationi get nowadays and power through before i regret it hehe.. 🫢 okay bye 👋

The smooth granite of the island counter top is ice against her bare heated skin. Her hands search for purchase on the sleek top but find none, he offers her his hands instead.

“Soldat please,” she gasps, her heated cheek pressed against the cool top.

He shushes her with a wet kiss to her bare shoulder and a toe curling thrust of his hips. “I’ve got you Eden give me one more – just one more.”

She shakes her head with a cry, “I can't s'too much – please I can’t.”

He tuts at her, righting himself to stand tall behind her, “I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” he murmurs crossing her arms behind her. He grips them in one large hand, the other hand falling to her supple ass. The smack of skin on skin pierces the air, a cry tearing from her lips following.

“Please.”

“Shh I’ve got you baby, gonna make you feel so good.”

The soft caress of his skin on her skin alongside the slow shallow thrusts of his hips has her toes curling and pleasure building inside of her. The pleasure she swore she couldn’t bring herself to. A weakened murmur of ‘fuck’ tumbles out of her lips as she tightens the sloppy grip she has on the hand holding both of hers.

The low husky chuckle that builds in his toned chest has a tingle running up her spine. “s’that doing it for you Eden, does it feel good baby?”

Words weren’t processing in her head, the only thing on her mind was that blinding building pleasure.

“Can feel you squeezing me, come on now let yourself go.”

She lets out a pitiful whine, and he can do nothing but give her exactly what she needs. The hand that was kneading her ass slips under her, lifting her hips higher as he gets under her, fingers seeking out that sweet spot that will have her seeing stars every time.

“Fuck - oh god - please I – I’m so close,” she preens pushing back into him.

That throaty chuckle of his does nothing but aide in the build of pleasure, she chases her higher quicker, her body trembling with the need to come yet again.

“Go on Eden, take it, take what you need, come on this cock sweetheart.” He murmurs finger circling her clit in quick circles.

He can feel when she comes, he’s learned her body with how often they’ve filmed together now he knows how to please her. He knows what will have her seeing stars, screaming his name, so gone on his cock that he can take and take and she’ll still beg him for more.

“That’s it, good girl Eden you’re such a good fucking girl – fuck let me see you sweetheart.”

He manages to get you on your back, the granite counter cooling your skin further. You’re grinning up at him the prettiest fucked out smile on your lips, God he wanted to ruin you.

He reaches for you, and you so willingly go, your arms going around his broad shoulders, fingers sinking into his wavy locks as you pull his lips to yours.

“will you give me just one more, just one more Eden.” He murmurs breathily into her lips. “Just one more sweetheart promise.” She’s moaning her response into his lips, his aching member slipping into her slick channel once more.

Fuck she felt so good, so wet and tight for him, and he made sure to let her know just how good she felt as he fucked her to meet his end. He falls into the curve of her body caging her in with his strong arms, his cock dragging in and out of her, at a maddening toe-curling pace. “Give me one more Eden, come on my cock one more time and ill fill you up just the way you like,” he grunts, thrusts coming a little quicker, a little sharper.

Eden chokes on a moan as he changes the pace then, “please don’t stop, please don’t stop,” she gasps head falling back her fingers clawing at his shoulder.. “Been such a good girl for me Eden, so sweet for me like this – you want it, you want my cum?”

“Please Soldat – Cum in my pussy please.”

Her name falls from his lips in a broken string of prayers, his eyes rolling back vision blurring white as waves of pleasure crash over him. “Fuck that’s it - squeeze my cock come on baby cum all over it.” He moans as he continues to fuck up into you, harsh breaths falling from his lips dragging out both your orgasms.

He rocks into you till Clint closes in on the two of you for his money shot. She falls out of his embrace her body going limp on the cool counter top, a quiet moan bubbling past her lips as she settles.

Clint calls cut on set the workers around him coming to life as they move to get the set closed. Bucky hones in on her, his body bending over the counter to get in her space. He leans in till he’s pressing a wet kiss to her cheek, one that has her laughing her hands finding his.

“How you doing sweetheart?” he murmurs eyes solely focused on her.

“Good so good B.”

Her smile has his stomach swooping, “wanna get up, shower, get dressed, we can get a shake from the diner, I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

Her fingers run over his sweat-slicked hair, “thought you already had your dessert,” she grins teasing.

He laughs, “I’m a growing boy sweetheart, that was just a starter.”

“Carry me to the showers?” she questions.

She didn’t need to ask twice Bucky would do anything she asked.

[painted-flag]

From Eden, II - Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist (part three here)

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x velaryon!oc

✧.* warnings: 18+ minors DNI. fluff with hints of smut.

✧.* note: this is a continuation of this imagine, but can be read as a stand alone work. this is the first of many smaller installments going over events in Daenys' and Ben's life.

✧.* summary: With the coming preparation of her wedding, Daenys finds that she has few moments spent with Ben. Finally, after weeks, they can spend time alone together.

✧.*word count: 1.9k

Daenys sat on a plush lounging chair in her chambers on Dragonstone. The day was waning to evening and she was embroiled in one of her latest books; a Valyrian tome that went over flying strategies. In these pages of parchment, she searched for an escape from the stress coming down on her. Her wedding had arrived sooner than expected, and the plans for everything had begun to compound. 

The day marked three months since her trip to the Riverlands. It was a successful mission, as she managed to catch the eyes of Benjicot Blackwood. The need for a prominent hold over the Riverlands was secured, yet that previous stress had been replaced with a new one. The days she spent with him in bliss were replaced with hours of wedding planning. Monotonous tasks such as picking out flower arrangements and organizing various types of decor became her daily routine. Multiple barriers had blocked off any sense of relief. 

The first barrier was where the wedding would take place. Raventree Hall, while beautiful, would not be equipped to hold such a large retinue of lords and ladies on the scale required of a royal wedding. Naturally, it was set to be in Kings Landing, which Daenys immediately shot down. A day of unity and delight would not be sullied by the Hightowers. Thankfully, Rhaenyra used the excuse of her newly developed pregnancy to argue that she could not travel under such delicate conditions; which led to the ceremony being held at Dragonstone. Daenys, once again, was saved by her mother's aid. 

The second and final barrier was all the planning. Daenys and Jacaerys flew home from the Riverlands shortly after the engagement while Benjicot and his men made their way on land. The days spent without him were bland, but even when he arrived they were both being pulled constantly to various tasks. The day he arrived at Dragonstone, Daenys got to see him for half the morning and then was swept away to pick fabric for her gown - a task immensely more difficult than she had expected. 

It was frustrating - on both ends - to be so close to one another, yet so far. The only positive Daenys saw was how smoothly Ben had befriended her brothers. He and Jacaerys had already established a mutual understanding, but it developed into a friendship as they ventured around Dragonstone and the island. They both enjoy sparing and had a routine of meeting in the morning in one of the courtyards. Daenys felt conflicted about their forging brotherhood. It was gladdening but also drove her crazy with how Jacaerys loved telling embarrassing stories of her youth to Ben. The two men had occasionally teased her together, but she quickly - jokingly - threatened the absolution of their engagement. It was incredible how fast that managed to make Ben shut up. 

The next brother Ben bonded with had been Lucerys. While he and Jace connected over fighting, Ben’s more shy side established a sense of mutual respect between him and Luke. It was their joint interest in a book series of adventures written by a maester many years ago that sparked a conversation between the two. After that ice broke, other topics of discussion came easily. Daenys remembered that particular evening at a family dinner when they talked through almost the whole meal together. Afterwards, Luke had grabbed her hand before she left, and leaned in to whisper, “I like him and I’m happy for you, sister.” 

The little ones - Joffrey, Viserys, and Aegon - were the easiest for Ben to win over. He had packed some toys from the Riverlands, which were specially crafted figures of knights and dragons. Once given to them, they had immediately formed a likening for him. Whenever they would see Ben, their little voices would call out his name and ask if he could play with them - to which if Ben was not busy- he would agree. 

Her mother had been warmed to Ben before he arrived at Dragonstone. The information she got from Daenys made her more than content with the union between the two. Daenys had spoken about his interests and personality over lunches with her mother. She also spoke about how he treated her with kindness and unflagging nature to make her happy every day he could. She spoke of their time together in the Riverlands while omitting the more raunchy details. 

Daemon, however, had not revealed his thoughts on Benjicot. Another stressor that weighed down on Daenys. The two conversed multiple times and all seemed well, but the rogue prince did not reveal anything. They were pleasant conversations, but Daemon had always been good at concealing what he thought. 

Daenys stretched in her lounging position and adjusted the book. The day had been long and her body was sore. She spent most of it standing in her wedding gown as the seamstresses made adjustments, poking her occasionally with needles. 

A low creak sounded from the corner of her chamber. The false wall opened and Benjicot stood on the other side with a mischievous smile on his face. Daenys shook her head as her shoulders moved up and down with silent laughter. She moved back to read her book.

Ben marched carefully into the room. He leaned over the chaise and wrapped his arms around her front, “And how is my lovely bride?” He repeatedly placed kisses on her cheek and temple, while purposefully making a loud smooch noise after each one. Daenys giggled while she clutched her book. 

“Truthfully I am exhausted,” She replied. 

Ben walked around and joined her on the chaise, settling behind her body. He stretched his legs and wrapped his arms around her middled and pulled her into the side of his chest. 

“I heard they finished your dress today.” His nose buried into the juncture of her neck as he placed soft kisses there. 

“After poking me countless times with their needles.” Daenys flipped the page of her book. Ben grabbed one of her hands and lifted it closer to him. His inspection spotted a couple of small scratch marks. He proceeded to kiss them one by one. Daenys soaked up the attention.

“And what has made you so affectionate today?” She questioned. 

Ben sighed and buried his head in her shoulder again. He let out a muffled groan. “It has been weeks since we spent time alone. I only get to see you for longer than a few minutes during dinners and those are spent with your family as well.” 

“You don’t like my family?” Daenys jested. 

“I love your family, almost as much as you.”

She sensed some motive behind his words, “You want something.” 

Ben lifted his head and looked as Daenys craned her neck to glance at him. He shook his head and faked innocence, “I have no idea what you are talking about, my love.” 

Daenys raised her eyebrow at him and that was more than enough to get an answer from the dark-haired man, “I miss you.” 

“I do as well. I have half a mind to cancel all the preparations and run to the nearest sept with you. Get it all over with.” Daenys huffed. Her free hand reached up to brush his chin gently. 

“Do not tempt me.” Ben leaned in to kiss her feverishly. It had felt so long since their last kiss. The past few weeks were full of chaste ones whenever they found little time alone with one another. The passion burned through her. Suddenly, all of the stress she had felt went away in mere moments. The comforting feeling of his arms that encircled her waist made her feel safer than any of the high walls and guards at Dragonstone. 

Ben moved around, only briefly pulling away from the kiss. He slid to the floor and on his knees while still moving his mouth against hers. He settled between her legs and Daenys pulled away, knowing what he was thinking. 

“Ben, you know how risky it would be to do that here?” 

“Dany, I feel as though I am a dying man wandering the Red Waste looking high and low for a drink to save me.” Ben feigned hurt, frowning in fake pain as though he was truly going through what he described, “My saving water just happens to be on low ground.” 

Daenys shoved the book off her lap and crossed her arms, “Do you think sweet words like that will work on me?” 

“They have before.” Ben, despite being on his knees, was still almost level with her face as she sat on the chaise. One of his hands brushed her ankle and slowly moved up her leg in a featherlight manner. 

“You’re insatiable,” Daenys observed. 

Ben leaned in to kiss her before he pulled away, “I know.” 

His hand, now resting on the back of her calf, squeezed. His other hand lifted the skirt of her dress and he quickly ducked under. Ben began to leave light kissed up her leg. His hands moved up quickly, brushing the plush inside of her thighs with his thumbs. His kisses reached the bottom of her right thigh when an abrupt knock on the door sounded through the room. 

Ben groaned against her skin, “I swear to all the gods that I will kill whoever knocked on that door.” 

Daenys ignored his words and responded, “What is it?” 

“The Princess Rhaenyra has called for an early supper, your grace.” A servant's voice sounded from the other side of the wooden door. Ben huffed and emerged from under Daenys dress, a look of displeasure on his face. 

“I will get ready by myself. Send word that I will be there soon.” 

“Of course, princess.” The two of them heard their steps retreat down the stone hall. 

Daenys looked at Ben and saw an intense frown had etched its way across his face. She nearly giggled at his expression. He looked like a spoilt child who had their favourite toy taken away. She cupped his cheeks and leaned in to kiss him. 

“It is not the end of the world, love.” 

“It may as well be.” Ben stood up and pulled her up with him, “Must we wait for the wedding to finally have time together?” 

“All you have to do is wait two weeks. After that, you may take me to Raventree Hall and nobody can disturb us anymore.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and carted her fingers through the hair at the top of his neck. 

“Two bloody weeks,” He kissed the bridge of her nose, “I must go before they find my chamber suspiciously empty.” 

Daenys laughed and leaned in to hug him. They both stood there for a few seconds, relishing in what would be the most contact they will have for many days. Ben rubbed her back and pulled away. 

“We will finish this later.” Ben’s voice gave no room for question. 

“I promise.” 

“Good.” Ben kissed her quickly again before retreating to the hidden passageway in the corner of her room. Upon opening the door, Ben sent her a wink and retreated into the small passage. Once he was gone, Daenys allowed her disappointment to wash over her. They only had a few minutes, and even then that was taken from them. It felt as though the gods were playing a sick trick on her. 

Daenys knew that the next two weeks would feel like an eternity.

_____________

✧.* endnote: this was a little rushed, but i managed to get this done between lectures. i do plan on leaning more heavily into smut, but i know my skills in writing that stuff are nonexistent so i need a little more time.

also, i seriously cannot thank you all enough on the amount of support given to the original imagine From Eden. it has blown me away. you are all amazing <3.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

Pairing:

Soft!dark!Thomas Shelby x Ada’s BSF!Reader

Summary:

Thomas was alone in his office with his thoughts, his regrets and desires after the night she was gone.

Warning(s): brief sexual themes. Tommy being down bad and obsessed with Reader. flashback in italics. Hints of violence. Minors, dni! Note: this is a mini series, so there will be one more part.

Word Count: 1.1k

It started out in the small kitchen after he came home from the war under the watchful eyes of his, the feeling that sent electroshock waves to his heart when she sat at the table as he came in.

It festered in the narrowed hallway after she left Ada’s room when there was no room for them to pass each other without brushing.

His obsession with her didn’t start small. It engulfed him like trees engulfed in flames, like wildfires. He watched her from afar, wanting and loving her from afar whenever he could. 

Then it became all too much the more sunrises and sunsets passed, his hands used to be the sole company of his cock in the middle of the night.

The sun was dimming below the horizon when he knew that it was Isiah when he knocked on the door quietly.

That was his signature knock, and based on the time that chimed on the grandfather clock, it was time for their meeting.

“Enter,” he called out, a soft thud was heard setting aside the glass tumbler on the ordinated desk he was nursing his emotions with. “What do you have?”

When he found out she had left while the streets were silent a night ago because his men reported back to him that she had brought the luggage with her into the vehicle.

That was when he knew, even though he did not have any evidence, but his instincts were rarely wrong.

Anyone who was a beggar in the streets would find remnants of broken shards of glass he had shattered that night.

“I found her, sir.” 

He raised his eyebrow, beckoning Isiah to continue with his statement.

“I was able to trace her to London. They stopped by a church,” he swallowed down the poisonous emotion at the mention of church. Isiah noticed it, but continued. “The preacher caved after I showed him a wad of money…” he trailed off, leaving the implication in the air.

They eloped.

There was a tic in his jaw, anger simmering in his veins, but he made sure to keep his expression empty. “Where is she at?”

“At Eden Club.” 

Of course, she thought he would stay away from his enemies’ territories unless he had a plan. Well, he had a plan and it involved her.

“Thank you, Isiah.” He said curtly.

“I’ll leave you to it.” With that, Isiah turned on his heels and walked out of his office. 

He waited until the door was closed with a soft thud before lifting the tumbler and chucked it against the wall with a curse under his breath.

Even when she was running, she could not escape from him forever.

He made an easy call, not expecting the foundation to crumble so quickly, so soon the moment she stormed into his office with ferocity in her gaze.

He had no intention of scaring her, making her realize that her best friend’s brother hadn’t seen her as Ada’s friend, instead he saw her as a woman. He hadn’t expected things to get out of hand so quickly, especially when his primal desire was to touch her in any way, the distance he permitted himself to have.

Fuck, even through the layers of clothing, her cunt felt glorious on the pad of his fingers and that noise that escaped from her throat sounded so…

Never he would’ve imagined that things would escalate.

Her husband was a threat to them, an obstacle that prevented him from being able to have her. All of her to himself. 

She was supposed to be by his side, not Edward’s. She was not supposed to be searching for a man especially when he was there, she was not supposed to use her husband as a reason why she refused to even see him.

It began to unravel whatever left of sanity he had.

And when all he had was sleepless nights induced war memories instead of having her, he drank those hours away with Irish whiskey held in a fancy crystal decanter that resided in his office. 

And if she was around, he never felt the need to drink more than his usual because he had her soothing his soul.

After what happened that day when she found out what he had done, he drank heavily since then because he could not get the look in her eyes out of his head.

Her glassy eyes welled up with tears that did not fall. The sight of them seared through him with pain because he never wanted to be the one to cause her pain, to be the reason why her beautiful eyes were holding a glint of devastating betrayal.

The stinginess of her tears meeting his heart, it was still throbbing, still aching, but all he could think about was he needed her to look at him. To only focus on him, ignore everything around her but him that was taking her away, that was keeping her away from him including herself.

He just wanted her to look at him.

Either way it would end up where they were at this moment.

He needed to remind her that she was his, no matter how far and how long they were apart. It still didn’t change the fact she was his until the end of time or whenever the world chose to burn. Whichever came first.

It had been a month since he had felt her lips despite he barely touched them with his and how he was bold in his approach with his touch. How he missed her. 

It had been a month since he had heard her voice since she ran out on him.

The moment he laid his eyes on her again in the kitchen two years ago, he knew she was more than the sun, the moon and all the stars in the universe.

And his brothers and his sister remained oblivious to what had just transcended in his soul. The longing to have her rose from nothing and it seared him like celestial fire branding him, marked him to love someone like her until death was ready to knock on his door.

Even at the risk of losing it all, he would not let that stop him. After all, he was a gambling man. He may have been selfish, but she was the only thing that kept him together. 

He closed his eyes.

“Oh.” Her eyes lit up. “Welcome home, Tommy.” He swallowed thickly as she whispered, peering at him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her beaming smile.

“Welcome home, indeed.” He murmured, looking down at her, unable to pull his gaze away.

The memory of her stirred a primal yearning within him, aching to be with her and keep her all to himself.

Opening his eyes, his hand already reaching for his weapon to place it in his holster.

He was going to remind her with a bullet in her husband’s brain, his upper lip curled in disgust and jealousy for the last time at the reference.

After all, time and tide wait for no man.

act i | ❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

act ii | ❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

act iii | ❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears a Suit

part Ⅱ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Mention of murder, Sexual harassment?, Explicit content, Curse words, Hot devil's son, Not proofread.

A/N: I tried my best, hope you enjoy.

A long night passed and the morning came. Well, if you can trust the clock. There were no windows at the Outpost for sunlight to penetrate the room, although even if there were some, it would not matter since after the bombs the sun disappeared behind a thick wall of fog. Fog of death.

I woke up with chills and sweat. Something haunted my dreams all night, making me shiver like a little lamb. Even though it was an unpleasant feeling, it added color to a pathetic parody of life that I have been having for the last 18 months.

Yesterday’s events bothered me. Moreover, they annoyed me. It was bright as day, that Langdon was messing with all of our minds, yet some part of my silly brain wanted me to believe that I was truly special. That he saw something, that no one else could.

I slowly walked to the bathroom. My bare feet touched the cold marble and I involuntarily shivered. I was tired. A mess. I washed my face and sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. Suddenly I noticed a motion somewhere behind, I turned my head and flinched. Snakes. They were crawling from the bath. Devilish creatures hissed showing me their poisonous fangs. I quickly ran out of the bathroom shutting the door behind me. What the hell? I caught my breath and sat on the edge of the bed. Are there snakes in my bathroom? I felt like I was going insane. Something cold touched my feet. Snakes. I jumped on the bed with a gasp. My closet and floor near it were full of them. They swarmed, intertwining with each other. Dozens of snakes. The other second I was already at the door, running to the hallway. Still barefoot in a white Victorian nightgown that Ms. Venable made us wear. I backed away from the room door and my back hit something soft. I turned around quickly, facing Michael Langdon's piercing blue eyes.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, preventing me from falling.

I stared at him for about a minute before words rolled out of my mouth.

“Snakes. There are snakes in my room.” My voice was hoarse, my fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket.

He was clearly amused by my state, studying my expression. Langdon chuckled, "Oh, really? Snakes, you say?" His eyes shone with a sly glint. I watched as he pushed me aside and glanced toward the room I had just run from.  

"May I?" he asked, and entered the room without waiting for my reply. I slowly followed him. To my horror, as we entered I saw nothing. Snakes were gone. Impossible.

“They were here. I swear to God they were here.” I mumbled looking around the room.

I noticed Langdon’s face contorted in hostility. 

“Don’t say such stupid words, Ms. Y/S. It’s unnecessary here.” 

I closed my face with my hands and sighed. Considering my appearance and edgy state, I totally looked like a mad woman. Nobody believes a mad woman.

“I believe you,” Langdon said, approaching me as if he read my thoughts. “Strange things sometimes happen. But it’s just… interesting that it happened in your room.” 

"What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my eyebrows, my gaze searching his face.

“You probably know that snakes have always been representing sin. It’s their main dignity. Servants of darkness… if you believe in symbols, of course.”

I let his words sink in briefly, my gaze drifting to the ground lost in thought. Snakes… sin… Snakes slithering in the garden of Eden… temptress Eve... I understood where he was going.

I huffed at that, scoffing. "Is that your way of calling me sinful? A corrupted soul? Please, spare me the Bible lessons."

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my comment, a playful smirk on his lips. 

"Oh, I'm not calling you sinful," he said, leaning against the nearby wall, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe. “But as you said it… it would be amusing to see you getting corrupted.”

I rolled my eyes. "Then what are you calling me?" I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of irritation. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to regain some composure.

Langdon chuckled at my defensive stance. His eyes gleamed with amusement. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached me.

"Are you always so feisty in the mornings?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I gulped as he came closer, a mix of annoyance and something else stirring inside me. His intense gaze made me feel cornered and yet, strangely… excited? My breath hitched as he was now standing directly in front of me, the space between us barely existent.

He raised his hand, a single finger tracing an invisible line down my cheek. "Or is it just my presence that gets you going?" he murmured, his voice dripping like honey.

The touch of his fingertip felt like a small electrical shock to my system. I tried to control my breathing, determined not to let him see me flustered.

"Your presence is hardly something exciting," I retorted, my voice a bit shaky. "It's more... irritating."

He smirked at my response. His finger trailed lower, down my jawline, and stopped at my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

“Well, as I recall it was you, who fell into my arms with fear, m?”

I hated how his words were effective. I hated how true they were. I hated myself for being so affected by his presence.

I tried to compose myself, my jaw clenched tightly. "I was just surprised," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but my heart was beating too hard for any nonchalance. “There were snakes all over the room.”

Langdon chuckled, his thumb left my face and he slowly started walking toward the door. 

"Indeed there were," he replied, casually leaning against the door frame. He seemed relaxed as if the topic was of no real importance.

I watched him for a moment, trying to decipher his nonchalant behavior. He was enjoying this, the way he was playing with me. The way he was playing with everyone. 

"Are you going to explain what happened here, or just act like it's normal for snakes to appear out of nowhere?" I asked, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.

Langdon chuckled at my question, that arrogant smirk never leaving his lips. "Isn't the mystery part of the thrill?" 

He walked out, closing the door behind me, leaving me again excited and annoyed. Silence engulfed the room after he left. I was left standing there, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind replaying the events that just occurred.

I sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with a thump. The silence was deafening, the only sound being the steady beat of my heart. I couldn't shake off the feeling of… anticipation. Anticipation for the next time I would see him. That son of a bitch.

I quickly dressed up and went to the day room. We didn’t have breakfast there. We barely ate at all. Some kind of nutrition cube at lunch and water. Balanced diet. 

No one yet tried to break the rules of the house that Ms. Venable had set, so when I entered the room almost everyone was already there. Same people, same walls, same music. I was going insane.

I took my usual seat, the conversations around me blending into a dull murmur. I felt suffocated as if I was drowning in the monotony. All I could think about was the next part of the interview with a representative of the Cooperative. 

Sanctuary could be a lie, who can verify that? All this can be a way to manipulate us. Even Ms.Venable was afraid, she didn’t trust him but obeyed. We were a flock of sheep in a pen with a hungry wolf. 

I was lost in thought when I noticed someone settling into the seat beside me. I turned my head to see Mr. Gallant.

"You seem lost in thought," he noted, his voice soft. "Everything alright?"

“Yeah, just… had an unpleasant morning,” I answered shortly, not wanting to tell him anything. I replayed all morning and yesterday's events in my head again and felt anger in my body. It made my blood hotter. 

He had no time to answer, as Ms. Venable walked into the room. Her presence immediately silenced the conversations. Her expression was stern, and she scanned the room with a critical eye.

"Good morning," she began, her voice steady and authoritative. She leaned on her cane and raised her voice a bit. “Today we are having a special treat. Don’t be late for lunch.” She turned from us and slowly started walking away, her heels echoing through the walls.

“Oh, by the way,” she stopped for a second but hadn’t turned her head. “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Langdon is waiting for you in the interview room.” She said harshly as if his name was disgusting to her.

I could feel the eyes of the others on me as they turned their gazes in my direction. I stood up slowly, trying to seem unbothered.

The walk to the interview room seemed longer than usual, the silence only interrupted by my footsteps and my rapidly beating heart. I will beat this motherfucker.

I knocked on the door of his cabinet and entered. There he was, sitting on the table, as he was waiting for me in that position intentionally. His pose was casual but deliberate. His gaze met mine, a smirk on his lips.

"Ah, Ms. Y/N," he greeted, his tone mocking yet playful. "Sit down please." 

I tried to retain my composure, refusing to let him see any hint of my nervousness. I sat down in the chair opposite him, trying to maintain some distance, yet feeling the closeness of the cramped room.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice steady but cold.

“Well, It’s the second part of your interview-” He began but I interrupted him. 

"Cut the act, Langdon.” I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “This psychotic bitch with her ridiculous rules is already sucking our blood, I don’t want another arrogant dick here, who thinks he can intimidate us. We both know this isn't a real interview. Even if Sanctuary is true, selection is just part of your manipulation." 

Langdon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh really?" He stood from the table and slowly started to circle me, like a shark circling wounded man in the water. I instinctively followed his movements with my eyes. "And why would I come to the Outpost then?" He stopped behind me, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I felt my breath hitch as he came closer, his breath sending a shiver through my body. I resisted the urge to lean away, instead sitting ramrod straight in my chair.  

"You tell me," I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of the unease I was feeling. He continued to circle me, his presence making the room feel even smaller.

Langdon chuckled at my response, his footsteps echoing around me as he completed his circle. He stopped in front of me. Smile gone.

“You are scared. It’s okay to be scared.” His calmness filled my mind with anger.

“I’m not.”

He smiled and leaned closer, resting his hands on the back of my chair, boxing me in with his arms.

“Of course you are,” he chuckled. His gaze fixed on mine. “And you should be.”

His arms on either side of my chair made me feel trapped. I could feel the power radiating from his body, and I had to fight the urge to lean back. I inhaled his smell, expensive cologne. Sweet, yet bitter, he smelled like dominance. It was hypnotic.

His chuckle was almost mocking as if he knew the effect he was having on me. I raised my chin defiantly.

"Why would I be scared of you?"  I retorted, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “You are nothing more than the obedient dog of The Cooperative.”

As words rolled out my mouth, I almost immediately regretted saying them. His smirk faded, eyes flashed with irritation and something even worse. I felt fear scratching my heart.

"Careful," he warned, calmly. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you. You don’t want to lose it, do you?”

I swallowed hard, my bravado wavering under his intense gaze. His threat lingered in the air like a shadow, and I knew he meant it. 

"I'm not intimidated by your empty threats," I managed to say, without thinking. Dumb bitch.

Langdon chuckled darkly, and the sound made goosebumps rise on my skin. Before I could say anything, his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, not really choking me, but just enough to be a warning.

"Empty threats?" he repeated, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You think I'm bluffing?" His grip tightened slightly, causing a gasp to escape my lips. I could feel my eyes widen in panic, but I tried to maintain a brave expression. “Tsk, tsk, I can already imagine how nice it would be to cut out that pretty tongue of yours.”

I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips at his threat. His grip on my throat was strong, constricting just enough to make me gasp for breath. 

"You... you wouldn't dare," I somehow managed to squeak out, my voice sounding weak and fearful. 

“Oh you think your pathetic life costs anything?” he leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “I could stab your stomach and rip out your little heart with my bare hand and no one could stop me.”

His words stung like a physical blow, and I felt my heart race in panic. He was deadly serious, looking at me like I was nothing more than a nuisance.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please don't."

Langdon's hand tightened the grip around my throat. He smiled at my pleading, a cold, cruel smile. 

"Begging already?" he asked, his voice mocking. "And after you so bravely challenged me."

My hands scrambled to pull away his wrist, trying to loosen his tight grip on my throat. I couldn't speak, could barely gasp for air.

His smile widened at my futile struggle, he enjoyed playing. He leaned closer, his face inches away from mine. 

"This is what happens when you challenge someone with power," he murmured. "You get humbled."

I was unable to say a word, strangled by his hand, tears starting to well up in my eyes. The room started to spin, and my vision became disoriented.

“Still, have hesitation about my authority?” he asked, his tone almost soothing.

"N-no... no..." I managed to choke out.

His hand released its grip on my throat, allowing me to gasp for air. My body slumped against the chair, trembling uncontrollably. I took a moment to recover from his grip, my heart still pounding and my breath shaky. I felt smaller under his gaze, like a mouse trapped under the eye of a snake.

Langdon chuckled at my reaction, his eyes glinting with cruel enjoyment. "Pathetic," he said, the word dripping with derision. 

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and I knew he was relishing every moment of my humiliation.

Langdon reached out, his fingers gripping my chin tightly, forcing me to look at him. His touch was rough, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his voice as he spoke. 

"Now can you listen to me?"

I nodded weakly, my throat still sore from his assault. Langdon saw the fear in my eyes, and his smile widened at the sight.

"Good," he murmured, his hand slowly releasing my chin.

His gaze never left me, his eyes scrutinizing every reaction I made.

"You were smart enough to figure out the whole interview thing," he said, his tone casual yet calculating. "But you're not smart enough to know when to keep that pretty mouth shut." Langdon chuckled, a twisted sound that made me flinch. "Still, I appreciate the fire," he said. "Most of the other 'interviewees' are a little too... shallow, I’d prefer most of them dead by evening." 

His eyes never left mine, studying me intently. I tried to hide any emotion.

"They all tremble before the thought of going to The Sanctuary and willing to please me in any way. But you're…," he continued. "You're unfortunately not satisfied with just being an obedient pretty face. No, you have an attitude. And that, my dear, is your undoing."

“M’sorry.” I breathed out quietly.

"Apologies mean nothing," he said smiling. "The main thing is understanding how everything works. So tell me, did you truly understand the lesson here, or does your pretty little head need another reminder?" His tone was cold and condescending, making me feel even smaller. 

The fear that had subsided slightly came rushing back, cold and constricting - raw.

"No, no, I..." I stammered. "I understand." 

Langdon chuckled. "See, now that wasn't that difficult, was it?" he crooned, his hand reaching out to trace a finger along my jawline. His touch was mocking, a cruel gesture that sent a shiver of disgust through me and I diligently tried to hide it. It was hard not to move away. He seemed to enjoy my discomfort, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Now we can have a productive talk.” He said, turning away from me. “You have brains, I’ll give you that. So why not put them in use, hm?” 

I could feel a slight sense of relief as he turned away from me, but it was quickly replaced by a wary uncertainty. His change in demeanor was unpredictable, and I had no idea what was coming next.

"What... what do you mean?" I asked, my voice betraying my unease.

He began pacing back and forth in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're clever, resourceful... more useful from. And I hate to see potential go to waste."

He stopped in front of me, his eyes studying me intently. I could practically feel the gears in his mind turning as he weighed his words.

"But the problem is, you're stubborn," he said finally. "And that stubbornness leads to insolence."

He leaned in, his face mere inches away from mine. The smell of his cologne hit my nose again. Crisp and masculine scent.

"And insolence, my dear," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Is a trait I don't tolerate."

“I understand that.” I said semi-calmly.

“Oh, you are a quick learner as well.” he murmured. “Good girl.” His tone was still mocking, and I hated how the praise sent a flicker of warmth through me. I tried to remain stoic, but his words were starting to chip away at my defenses. 

He stepped back, his gaze still locked on me. 

"I have an offer for you," he said. "An offer that could benefit us both, if you play your cards right."

“What offer?” 

“I want you,” he began. “To work for me.” 

“Work for you?” I asked dumbly.

He chuckled at my confusion, enjoying my surprise.

"Yes, work for me," he confirmed. "You'll be doing research, digging up information on others, doing necessary tasks, anything I need. Think you can handle that, hm?"

“But… how?” I wasn’t expecting that offer at all. And how the fuck should I dig on others?

Langdon smiled at my question, obviously finding it amusing that I wasn't catching on.

"How?" he echoed. "You seemed smarter a few minutes ago."

He leaned against the table again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll be my eyes and ears, gathering intel for me. You'll tell me everything you see, hear or feel. And in return… I’ll put in a good word for you with the members of the Cooperative." 

I sat there, watching him silently.

He waited a moment, letting his words sink in. He was watching me intently, waiting for my reaction.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head," he began. "You're thinking about all the possibilities, aren't you? Life at The Sanctuary is heaven if you are friends with the authorities." He smirked.

He was right. The possibilities were spinning in my head like a whirlpool. 

But I knew there was a catch. People like Langdon never offered anything without expecting something in return. Something much bigger than collecting information. 

“What’s the catch?” 

He smirked at my question. His eyes were glittering with satisfaction, clearly enjoying his little game.

"Ah, are you always so suspicious or am I an exception?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“You think I shouldn’t be suspicious of the man who almost choked me to death a few minutes ago?” My tone filled with venom and I bit my tongue, afraid to anger him again.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it was just a friendly reminder” he said leaning closer to me, whispering. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that, you are bad at hiding it.”

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and embarrassment rushing through me. 

"Enjoy that?" I shot back. "Why would I enjoy being strangled by a sick psychopath?"

He smirked at my outburst, seemingly unfazed by my anger. 

"Now now, no need for name-calling," he said with mock hurt. "You can lie to yourself if it gives you comfort, but I saw the way you reacted, the way your body tensed, and the way your pupils dilated."

His gaze roamed over me in an almost predatory manner, making me feel exposed.

“Anyway, we have more important things to discuss than your sexual desires.” He smirked. “Accept my offer?”

His brazen, almost predatory manner was as infuriating as it was intoxicating. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I refused to look away. 

"Accept your offer..." I echoed, trying to sound strong. "You haven't exactly explained the full extent of this 'job' you're offering. I need more details before I can even consider it." I forced the words past my lip.

“It’s easy. You are loyal to me and I promise you protection. It’s always useful to have an intelligent, pretty head on your side.” he said, looking me up and down. “Before me, you were all alone among bastards, but now I offer you my hand and I really don't recommend biting it.”

“So I have to become a backstabber?” 

"No, my dear, you're thinking too low. You won't be backstabbing anyone. You'll merely be... helping me to form a new society. " He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Don’t tell me you are afraid of getting your hands bloody, I saw the way you look at Ms. Venable. You are bloodthirsty."

My eyes widened at his observation. I wasn't surprised he had caught on to my hatred for Ms. Venable, but hearing him say it out loud was another matter. 

"I'm not scared of getting my hands dirty," I said, my voice firm despite the shiver that ran down my spine. "I'm just not fond of being used."

Langdon sat on the edge of the table and smiled, almost genuine, he looked at me like I was a little kid.

“Come here.” he said calmly and beckoned me with the nod of his head.

I hesitated, not sure whether to obey his command or not. I slowly stood up and walked over to him, stopping a few feet away from him. It was crazy how he was radiating comfort and dominance at the same time. 

“Closer. I won’t bite.” 

I stepped closer and his hand reached to stroke my hair.

“You are special.” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he spoke. His fingers tangled in my hair, his touch both soothing and possessive. “You can achieve a lot or… stay here and rot with others.”

His words were like a cold bucket of water, snapping me out of the odd comfort I found myself in. I knew he was right, of course. Staying here meant settling for a life on the sidelines, living in fear and boredom. Or just die.

"You don't play fair, do you?" I said, my voice tinged with irritation. "One second you're choking me, the next you're stroking my hair and promising me the world."

"And why should I play fair, hm? Rules don't work anymore here, chaos has won." He leaned closer. 

I found myself smiling despite myself. It was probably still a shock. My mind couldn't keep up with what was happening. There was a dangerous charisma to him, an irresistible charm that I couldn't quite explain.

"That’s a convenient excuse for you to do whatever you want," I shot back, trying to sound defiant. "No rules means no boundaries."

Langdon chuckled again, his smirk widening. His hand slid down from my hair to rest on my throat again, his thumb brushing against my pulse.

"Careful," he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I might start thinking you're enjoying this a bit too much." I freeze. “And about the rules… I prefer bending them, instead of breaking."

I didn’t answer, waiting for him to continue. He smiled, clearly enjoying my reaction. His thumb traced lazy circles on my throat, making my pulse quicken involuntarily.

“You don’t want to die here, do you?” He whispered in my ear. “It would be a shame if such potential would remain undisclosed…” His hand moved lower, gently touching my collarbone. “In this body.”

His touch ignited a strange fire inside me. I desperately tried to ignore the way my body reacted to him, the way my heart raced and my skin tingled where he touched me. 

"You make it sound like I'm a ticking time bomb." My voice came out a little breathier than I intended.

"Oh, don’t sell yourself short, darling," Langdon purred. "You’re more like a grenade. A beautiful, deadly grenade.” His hand caressed my skin. “So… Do we have a deal, Ms. Y/N?” 

I stared down at the floor, then back at Langdon, my gaze calculating. After a few seconds I nodded. “Deal.”

“Wise.” He smiled. “Now let’s make that official.”

His left hand went to grab my waist, while the other reached out to take something from the table. Small dagger. I instinctively tried to pull back, but his grip on me was unwavering

“No need to be scared, little lamb.” He handed me the weapon with the hilt forward. 

“Official?” I echoed.

“Yes. Deal in blood.” His answer made my body flinch.

The cool metal of the dagger felt heavy and unfamiliar in my hand. 

“Aren't you afraid that I would stab you?” I asked him, trying to hide my fear.

Langdon chuckled darkly, liking the question. 

"You wouldn't dare," he said with absolute confidence. "You're far too smart and too… intrigued by me to do something so foolish."

His eyes glittered dangerously like he was daring me to prove him wrong. "And besides... I have a feeling you're far more interested in finding out what it would be like to be on my good side."

He directed my hand, in which the dagger was clutched, and leaned the tip against the palm of his left hand. “Cut.”

I watched in fascination and slight horror as the blade made a small incision in his hand, a thin line of blood forming on his palm. He didn’t even flinch, his gaze locked on mine the entire time. It awakened in me something feral.

“Now you,” he said, his voice low and steady.

He grabbed my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and guided the knife to my palm. The sharp pain was muffled by his lips on my cheek. The warm blood slowly pooled in my palm. 

He pressed his wounded hand against mine, the touch inflicted pain. The blood from his hand mingled with mine, the warmth and stickiness of it a strange and yet somehow comforting sensation. 

 "And with that..." he said, his voice hushed. "Our deal is sealed."

I felt the burning urge to press my lips to his. Without clearly thinking I leaned to his face, kissing him hungrily. He didn’t return the kiss, but didn’t pull away either. 

"Now, now, dear," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Don't get ahead of yourself. No need to complicate things…"

His gaze flicked down to my lips, his own curving into a smug smile. I was ashamed of my bold move and confused by his stubbornness. He was a man after all, wasn’t he?

"Complicate?" I repeated, my voice tinged with sarcasm. "Says the one who just made me swear a blood pact."

Langdon chuckled, amused by my attempt at irritation. "Ah, don't pout," he said, his hand moving to gently cup my jaw. 

"Just because I'm not giving in to your every desire doesn't mean I’m inaccessible.” He leaned closer to my ear. "But keep pushing, darling. I do love it when you act up, maybe next time you wil get lucky." He carelessly brushed his lips along my wound, making me whimper quietly, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment. God, he is killing me.

Langdon pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His hand left my jaw, and I found myself missing the feel of his touch already. I leaned forward, wanting him to touch me.

"Ah ah ah," he tutted, his voice mockingly chiding. "I can practically feel your eagerness, my dear. But I'm afraid I can't have you slacking off on our deal."

He gestured lazily to the door. "You should return to your routine. Can’t have Ms. Venable catching you slinking around here for too long."

I bristled at his order, but I knew he was right. I nodded grudgingly.

"Fine."

I started to walk toward the door, my wounded hand throbbing a little from the recent events. But before I reached the threshold, Langdon's voice stopped me.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

I turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

His eyes were glinting mischievously.

"A word of advice," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Try to control that urge of yours. It's going to get you in trouble..." He paused, his gaze roaming up and down my body. "Or is it already too late?"

“Check it yourself next time,” I answered boldly and grabbed the door handle.

I couldn’t see his face, but was sure that he was amused.

"I might just take you up on that offer." I heard his smooth voice, as I left the room. "Off you go, little lamb." 

I shut the door behind me and leaned on it with my back. Probably that’s what it feels like to sell your soul to the Devil.

Have a good day <3