#grafic nails

[helium-ox]

Hey thats me !!

[cherubispunk]

CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world! 

playlist 

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

[otomes-world]

"Under fantasy disguise" part Pomefiore (1)

Fantasy AU “Under fantasy disguise”: world lore (prologue) heartslabyul savanaclaw octavinelle scarabia trigger warning: some self hate, reader in really bad state (but there is nothing grafic), barrely edited text.

At some point, the clouds flying past completely erased the idea of time and space. Slowly brightening sky marked the beginning of a new day. The lump in throat, the approaching nausea and self-loathing merged into one large layer, settling like a burden in your chest. A heaviness that radiates unpleasantly throughout the whole body.

You wanted to pry open chest if only it could give at least a little peace of mind.

However, the much-desired peace would not come. The subconscious told you, or maybe you yourself understood that you couldn’t let go of the situation. Frankly, what happened - all at once - was not your fault. It wasn’t, but selfishness and the banal desire to survive stuck needles into such a subjective concept of conscience, which you didn’t even suspect. When you live in a world of technology - when you don't have to make tough decisions - the world seems simpler.

You didn’t know where the carpet was going. Perhaps it was simply obeying your unspoken impulse to get away. Anywhere. To a place where it will be at least a little easier.

However, during the time you spent in this world, you managed to come to terms with the thought: it won’t get better. The further you plunged into unfamiliar lands and got to know its inhabitants, the harder the blow to your mental health. At some point you thought that the happiest time of your forced journey was wandering in the mountains.

Taking a shuddering breath, you froze abruptly, noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Something flew past at incredible speed. Glancing briefly at the sleeping cat, you clenched your fists, your nails - or what was left of them - digging into the skin of your palms. The pain helped calm down a little and focus on surroundings. A moment and something flew by again, this time very close.

It didn't seem to you.

Waking Grimm up with your left hand, you tried to look down. The carpet did not slow down, and therefore it was difficult to try to see anything. The barely brightening sky did not help at all. Suddenly the fabric shook and you felt something cold millimeters from your other hand. Imagining the worst, you looked down, noticing the thin scratch on your skin and the arrow.

Everything inside you suddenly stopped.

Heart began to beat sharply, making already labored breathing difficult. The mind tried to come up with a solution, an escape, something, but apparently the third arrow was the last warning. The last one before something incomprehensible collided with the carpet, paradoxically sobering and frightening at the same time. Intuitively stretching out your hands towards the sound of meowing, you realized in horror that you were falling down. The carpet, which had saved your life several times, was flailing in the air, trying to extinguish the flames that were engulfing the fabric faster and faster.

You closed your eyes and prepared to fall. The sharp blow, it felt like it, knocked out the remaining oxygen on the branch, as did a further fall onto the wet grass. The pain darkened vision. You wanted to scream, but you didn’t have the strength to unclench teeth and utter even a sound. Bent over, you still clutched Grimm to your chest, simultaneously trying to think about something good.

Heartslabyul still caused waking nightmares, but there were incredibly beautiful roses there. Flowers. Pleasant baking aroma. The softly shining sun.

A slow, careful breath literally created a storm inside. The lungs protested, the muscles tensed to the limit. It would be so easy to close your eyes and plunge into darkness if it weren't for the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. Your attacker was still somewhere nearby.

Sitting up with an effort of will, you could hardly resist so as not to fall back. Your side was burning, and the notorious stars were flying before eyes. What kept you from giving up was the realization that the breathing of the cat, limp in your arms, was becoming weaker. The fear of being alone in this world turned out to be enough of an incentive to go against everything: fate, a tired body and, possibly, broken bones.

A rustling sound came very close, and you tensed, preparing for the worst. Having spotted a dry branch nearby, you wondered how much time and effort it would take to grab it. There was a rustling sound again, and this time the steps took him by surprise, but a child appeared from behind the bushes. Even in the semi-darkness, you noticed his light gray hair and pointed ears. Gradually, two more appeared behind him: one with burgundy strands sticking out to the sides and a gloomy expression on his face, and the second, ready to fall asleep at any moment.

The very first, apparently the main one of the trio, took a step forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture, "How are you feeling? How many fingers am I showing?"

You just shook your head, closing your eyes. The voice of reason insisted that you had to run, but fear for Grimm did not allow you to take even a step..

"Us.. can.. help.. you.. "you didn’t recognize your own voice. It sounded so quiet and muffled that you doubted whether you were heard. Your throat burned, but you opened your mouth again to repeat the request as many times as necessary.

"Dominic, it’s not a good idea to bring someone you don’t know home, is it?" The gloomy child spoke, and for a second you again started to panic. "If we bring everyone we meet and cross, we ourselves will soon become the King’s target."

King? That's all you needed. Previous territories also had heads, but facing the “royal family” sounded much more terrible and problematic

"..only a night.. I can.. stay in the forest.. only Grimm.." It seemed like torture to pronounce every word. Your vision was blurry, but you were obliged to hold out.

“Another guest won’t be such a problem,” Dominic answered. "Can you get up?"

No. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to get up. You couldn't even lie to yourself. You didn’t even have to answer, the main one came up and extended his hands to the cat. With trembling hands, struggling not to pull them away, you allowed the cat to be taken away

"Groom, stay and look after last one. Shelpi and I will go get Neige"

The one who was called Groom grumbled without ceasing, but still approached you. Watching the children disappear among the greenery, you allowed yourself to relax. At least Grimm was safe.

"Hey. Hey! Come to your senses!"

You felt someone shaking your shoulder, but you couldn’t make out anything else. Only at some point did you hear someone’s worried voice, but you couldn’t make out what exactly he was saying.

You came to your senses, then fell into oblivion again. Voices, sounds, light caused dizziness and rejection. The only thing you remembered throughout the entire chaotic state was that pleasant voice and someone’s warm hands.

"You woke up!" Someone voiced it before you even realized it yourself. It’s just that at some point you stopped distinguishing between reality and a dream, but it seems that this time you were definitely in reality. "Wait, I'll call Dominic"

This name fluttered familiarly in memory. That's right, that was the name of the bright child. Following with an unfocused gaze the young man - although now in your eyes he was just a colored spot - who quickly rushed off somewhere, leaving you for a minute.

Closing your eyelids, you tried to focus on the present. You weren't abandoned in the forest, that's a plus. The attacker didn't show up yesterday, or maybe you just weren't found. The questions “Who” and “Why” remained unanswered. It would be possible to close your eyes and not chase your tail, as before, but your intuition suggested that this time it would be different. That this was just the calm before the next storm. But you no longer had the strength to look for shelter so as not to be carried away to the mercy of fate.

A quiet knock brought you back to reality. It was strange, the young man didn’t seem to lock the door. Opening your eyes slightly, you squinted, trying to make out the newcomer. As you thought, it turned out to be the same child. Next to him stood someone your age - maybe a little older or younger - with a friendly smile. The corners of your lips slightly twitched upward, but they couldn’t become the same full-fledged smile.

"Are you feeling better now?" Asked the child, who continued speaking after a nod from you. “You’re probably still confused, so I’ll try to speak more slowly. My name is Dominic, my dwarf brothers and me have been living in this forest for a very long time. And this,” he pointed at the young man, “is Neige. Although you may already know him. Let me know what happened to you?"

"…if.. I knew.. someone attacked us while we were flying on the carpet.. we turned over and fell, Grimm.. Grimm! Where is he?" An attempt to sit up abruptly was unsuccessful, causing more circles under the eyes and weakness. A brunette who appeared next to you prevented you from turning over and falling out of bed

"Your friend is okay!" The dwarf immediately answered hastily. "He, like you, needs to rest. But you need to do this first. During the fall, you broke a rib" you immediately touched your burning side. “It will take time to heal.”

Having given a short thank you to him and the boy, as a sign that you were already feeling better, you began to hastily rebuild your plan of action. It was impossible to linger, but on the other hand, going in the current state was no less stupid. You understood that the fall could not have happened without something - there was a limit to luck and the capabilities of the human body - but the awareness did not brighten up what was happening.

"Do you know who could have attacked you?“ The young man asked softly, holding out a glass of water that had come from nowhere. However, you weren't complaining.

“No.. No, this is my first time in these lands,” after a couple of sips it became easier to speak. “We were flying… yes, we were flying,” you strained your tired memory. "…someone shot! I remembered the arrow!" Looking hopefully at Dominic, you saw a worried look. As if he realized who exactly attacked you and the Grimm. For some reason, you doubted whether it was worth finding out the truth. "This is not someone from the royal family, right?"

You tried to laugh, but it sounded pathetic even to your own ears. For some reason, the duo didn't appreciate your joke.

“It might have been Rook,” you frowned, another new name. “He works as a hunter and serves Vi,” the young man tried to keep the conversation going with the same light laugh, which came out better than yours. However the impression he made was the same - he did not inspire confidence.

“Vi?” You asked carefully, afraid to confirm your fears.

"Exactly, you don’t know. That's what I call Vil, he is the king of these lands. We saw each other quite often at the castle!"

You were doomed. You could see the world literally crumbling before your eyes. This is exactly what was needed for happiness. Purely to confirm what you already suspected, you turned to Dominic, "What is the probability that… how did you call him, Rook?.. Reported everything to the king?"

Silence was a convincing enough answer.

Despite the chance of being discovered, you remained in the dwarves' house. It was inspired by the hopelessness and persuasiveness of Neige, who took upon himself the responsibility of your personal doctor. Although this was too strong a word, the process was still more led by the chief of the dwarves. Gradually you got to know the others.

Groom and Shelpi were part of the company that day. Although the first one was rude and hot-tempered, you couldn’t call him bad. It just took some getting used to. Shelpi was his opposite. A dwarf with a perpetually sleepy look, although you could understand him. In your current state, all you wanted to do was sleep.

There were four more gnomes: Timmy, Toby, Snick and Hop. You saw Timmy only from afar and only in someone else’s company. Perhaps he was just nervous around strangers. Toby was a sweetheart whose memory failed him more often than usual. Hop was a classic example of a cheerful child, and Snick's specialty was his perpetual allergies.

Watching their noisy but cheerful routine was a pleasant change from the nightmare that was happening in your life before. Nevertheless, you remembered Heartslabyul’s experience and were in no hurry to relax.

The more time you spent in their friendly company, the stronger the feeling of guilt grew. Understanding that they would come for you. Now or a little later didn't matter. Just like how many troubles befell the cat’s head for the company. Asking to take care of Grimm was another breaking through the ceiling called “selfishness,” but… that incident made it clear that problems were pouring down on your head more and more often. Their consequences were becoming increasingly difficult to correct.

Living with guilt was unbearable.

So much so that you were unable to look into the eyes of your faithful friend, who has literally gone through thick and thin with you, and you decided to leave him.

You didn't even hope for forgiveness. Deep inside you understood that this was just an attempt to come to an agreement with yourself, a struggle for the opportunity to hate yourself a little less. Looking at the recovering cat, this thought took root more firmly in consciousness.

The pathetic excuse “it will be better this way.”

Gradually you were allowed to take short walks. Your side still hurt, as did the wounds on back, but the fresh air helped to distract you and not drown in self-flagellation. The only activity for which you always had the strength.

Hoping to find your things, you tried to find the crash site from memory. It was stupid, especially since those trinkets were of no value. To some extent, they simply gave an imaginary sense of belonging. Reminders of your home world, which seemed farther and farther away day by day.

Moving aside the branches, you were finally able to find the desired clearing. It was like all the others, but some internal awareness did not allow you to pass by.

Check and leave.

Simple plan - simple implementation. Searching among the bushes without bending down was another challenge. Having sat down, you rose to your feet again with great difficulty, the shooting pain in your lower back made itself felt every time you tried to find your treasured things.

Breathing heavily, you leaned your hand on the trunk of a nearby tree. A little break won't hurt anyone, that's for sure in your condition. Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the clearing once again, making mental notes of where the bag might have been thrown.

There was not a soul around, or at least it seemed so. Perhaps over time you became too suspicious, but at the moment you could not leave the feeling of being watched, no matter how stupid it may sound. Who could be in the deep forest, right? Unless… who attacked you and the Grimm that day. You tsked and took another breath, trying to calm down.

It was dangerous to return to the house: you didn’t want to let Neige and his friends down. Trying to escape in an unknown direction was reckless. You didn’t know these places, one wrong turn and Robinson Crusoe will appear in this forest. Although you doubted that this world had heard of him. The possibility of becoming a discoverer was not encouraging.

"Ma cheri! What a rarity it is to find such a beautiful creature in such a dense thicket,” a voice that came out of nowhere took you by surprise.

Turning towards the sound at a speed you didn’t know you were capable of, you saw a strange blond-haired young man.

“Are you… talking about me?..” You asked carefully, simultaneously looking for a way to escape. Now the suspicions no longer seemed groundless.

"Oui! Yes and yes! A triple "yes" is not enough to prove the sincerity of my words. How brave and reckless are walks in the wilds, where every animal and people poses a danger. I had already decided that knowledge, Fata Morgana, which had darkened my mind and revealed such a fragile angel in human form!"

He spoke a lot and not very clearly, sometimes you lost the thread of the story. In your best times, you didn’t like such conversations, let alone today. However, this was a good opportunity to look at the blond. He was wearing a cream-colored tunic, loose pants and a hat with a fluffy white feather.

It was necessary to come up with an excuse and as quickly as possible. Perhaps you would be able to wander around, wait for him to leave, and return home without consequences. However, this would be too loud a statement. If there's one thing life has taught you, it was not to think ahead of time.

"Thank you, I guess?.. Did you want something?" You decided to ask directly.

"Oh, that's right. Wandering among the flora and fauna, I found one interesting little thing,” he sadly shook his head while you did everything to prevent doubts from showing on your face. "Obeying the will of my heart, I am trying to find the owner."

Emphasizing the last word, he smiled, narrowing his eyes. The nature of the emotion that flashed through them made you shiver.

"Well, I wish you good luck in your search, sir.."

"Hunt! But you can call me by my name, just Rook,” digging your nails into the palms, you kept a friendly expression on your face through an effort of will. The blond raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, and then also calmly began to close the distance. "I don’t dare to hope that you have heard of me. However, like me about you. His Majesty, Roi du Poison, has been wanting to meet you for quite some time, and who are we to refuse him."

Looking ahead at the outstretched hand and the unshakable figure of - as Neige said - the hunter, you doubted that you had any chance of escape.

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[exodusmc]

Wolf and its sheep

Genre: smut, werewolf au, slight enemies to lovers 

Words: 2273

Paring: Werewolf Hoseok x witch reader

Warning!:Mentions of alcohol, blood(not grafic), fingering, pet names, slight degrading, biting, rough, unprotected sex(use protection), making out, doggy, breeding kink, knot

a/n: Would anyone want a smut series with different monsters for halloween?? Btw hope you have a great day :)

Gif is not mine 

“What the hell?!”staring at the mope of dark hair, filled with bad neon streaks, you hissed.

The boy only smirked, eyes trailing down your wet shirt. He spilled his drink on you and had the audacity to laugh. This is why you hated werewolves, especially the one named Hoseok. He had been the bane of your existence ever since you got to know him, that first day in highschool. Being a witch, you weren’t loved by everyone but oh god, you wished to not be the lamb to the wolf.

“Sorry sorry, didn’t see you witchy..”his looped sided smirk sent anger boling in your blood and if you could, you’d curse him right then and there, force him to turn into a chihuahua every full moon instead.

“Yeah right..”you wanted to scream mut at him but his pack was lurking around to your right, snickering like they always did. Fuck this guy and his friends, you hated them all.”I hope you can see further than your thick skull next time..”

Pushing past him, you purposely hit his shoulder, glaring daggers into his golden eyes. You knew from the beginning that you shouldn’t have come to the party but of course had Mina convinced you, even when you pointed out the extent of werewolves which would come. 

-

Two weeks later you were sitting in the library, reading some text about the half moon, when the chair in front of you was pulled out. Lifting your eyes, you instantly frowned at the brown hair with just a stubborn neon green strand left.

“What do you want?”poison laced your tone and Hoseok only laughed.

“Why? Can’t I just visit my favorite witch?”you had seen him smile before, something which seemed to soften his face, but every time he looked at you, would it only be a shit eating grin. 

“No.”

“Oh come onnn!”he whined softly, leaning towards you from his chair. You could see the bubbling mischief in his eyes, the dread  of what was to come making you swallow.”We are having a party on Friday and I want you to come. You’re free right? Or are there some blood ritual you need to do under the full moon? Curse a poor child?”

Frowning at him, you stood up from the wood chair, the friend keeping your aching legs company. Hoseok watched with amusement, lips partying to speak again but you left before he could take a breath, thinking about cursing him under the full moon. 

-

“Why won’t you gooo?!”Mina’s voice rang in your head, her sentence just an hour old. 

She went to the party, she was drunk, she had fun, but she wanted you to be there, she would never understand. Mina wasn’t a witch, only bearing fairy blood and not the kind which made you what you were. It also meant she didn’t experience the hate you received. Some blamed witches for turning humans into monsters but you didn’t believe that, no one could have that power. 

A knock on your door broke the spiraling late night thoughts you had, heavy eyes opening wide. 

Mina was the first name to cross your brain but she wouldn’t knock, probably scream instead. But if it wasn’t her, then who? The clock had just struck  11 pm and when you glanced out your window could you see the full moon in all its glory.

“Yes?”instantly was your whole apartment smelling like alcohol and something sweet.”Why are you here?  I thought I already told you no..”

Hoseok actually smiled sheepishly towards you, cheeks a little rosy, pupils slightly blown. His hair was wild, like he ran here, and his clothes were covered in some sort of paint. You were pretty sure he was drunk but you had read about werewolves getting the same effect from the full moon.

“I know but I’m here anyway..”his voice was lower than usual, pupils almost taking over his irises. It didn’t sit right with you, a feeling of dread spreading through your stomach. He would never do anything, at least you thought so…”And Mina said it was a good idea to visit.”

Why would she say that?

“I don’t believe she did that..”Hoseok frowned, leaning forward into your personal space. 

Heat radiated from him, reaching for your exposed skin. You swallowed too hard, heart picking up speed and if Hoseok would have had ears, they would have flickered towards you. He heard it, no doubt, but you could still keep your mask. Can’t he just leave?And maybe stop making your heart rush at lightning speed…

“But she did and I think you aren’t as mad as you try to be..”he was fast, like every other werewolf, soon standing inside your apartment, back against your gaping form.”I think you can’t hide anymore..”

Turning around, the door closed and you were pressed up against it. His normally brown eyes glowed red and when he smirked were canines shining sharp. The moon fell over him, his breath mixed into yours. 

“Tell me Y/n…can you hide? Can my little sheep run?”you gaped at him, gaze rolling around his face, the confiance which painted every feature.

“H-Hoseok what are you doing?”you tried to sound mad but your voice came out breathless, a shiver crawling down your spine when he lifted a finger to stroke over your jaw.

“I’m claiming what’s mine…”leaning forward, his lips placed a wet kiss on your jugular, sucking ever so softly. You felt his teeth scrape against your skin as he moved up to your ear.”I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time baby…let me have a taste, yea?”

You were getting lost, eyes losing focus as his voice seemed to set you in a trance. This wasn’t the annoying Hoseok you knew, this was a predator catching his prey and you were it. 

“Tell me Y/n…can I have a taste?”he moved away, left you cold and aching, but Hoseok refused to touch you before you said yes, only glaring you down. 

“Y-yes..”his smile was wide but there was nothing gentle about it, hands slowly creeping up your arms until they found hone right under your ear, thumbs lifting your chin. 

Hoseok kissed you, hard, pressing you against the door until you thought it would break. He seemed rushed, lips moving fast like he starved for them, tongue messing with your own. There was no time to breathe, not as your hands moved up to his soft locks. You tugged on them, scraping his scalp, electing low grumbles from his chest. Hoseok was absorbed with the way you felt, fingers traveling to your pajama covered legs.

You suddenly remembered that you weren’t really prepared for this, wearing not so sexy underwear but at the same time…you didn’t really think Hoseok would come bursting through your door and start making out with you. 

“Jump..”his low growl made you break from the kiss, legs falling around his hips while his hands squeezed the flesh of your butt. He smirked, licking swollen lips. Why was he suddenly so hot?”Such a good kitty, listening to everything I say..”

He moved across the room, letting you stare at his neck and peeking collarbones, the sweat forming on his hairline, but you didn’t get to kiss him. Hoseok was determined to make you want him as much as he wanted you.

“You’re my pretty girl, right?”your back dropped onto the not so glamorous bedding you slept on, Hoseok between your thighs and eyes still glowing. He was fighting the wolf but it would be worth all the time it would take. The possessiveness in his voice gave you  butterflies when it probably shouldn’t, heat spreading to your cheeks. His fingers snaked down to your nape, grabbing the hair so you had to arch your back. A breathy moan escaped you when you felt his teeth against the front of your neck, a growl coming deep from his chest when he spoke again.”You’re mine..”

Somewhere in your head, you knew he would mark you but the lust had taken over, left you a mess of his hands, his breath, his mouth. Hoseok could smell you like never before, mouth nipping at the flesh of your no exposed shoulder. He was losing patience and tore the t-shirt you had on, smirking like a devil, like a wolf, at your perky nipples. 

Dragging his fingernail down the valley between your breasts, eyes on you,  Hoseok smirked. The strong willed witch whom he played around with, whom he annoyed, was falling apart under his hands. 

“Here…”he whispered in your ear, hand resting on your stomach.”Here will my puppies be…”

Goosebumps scattered around your body, breath picking up as his fingers slid further down. You were warm and dripping, feeling so small under his moon lit figure, but it felt good, it felt like you could melt from your bones if he touched you. 

“You’ll be a good girl and take them, right?”his breath fanned down your neck, heavy and hot. Hoseok was staring at the skin over your collarbone, staring at the untouched flesh where his mark should be.”You’ll take them all..”

You had been so distracted by his mumbles, by his nipping at your earlobe, you hadn’t noticed his hand slipping into your bottoms. Not until his finger dragged across your pussy, collecting the pooling wetness.

Hoseok felt it, he smelled it. It was intoxicating to say the least, the way you screamed for him without using your words. The simple curle of his fingers in you managed to get the real sounds out of you. 

You gasped out a moan and saw stars the more he coaxed your orgasmn to come closer. A squealing sound left your pussy, something you didn’t have time to be embarrassed by, but it made him hard in his pants, the wolf in him howling. 

Leaving you on the edge of pleasure, Hoseok ripped your pajama pants in two, forcefully parthing you slightly trembling thighs. His mouth watered at the sight you were, teeth growing sharper as his nails pierced your skin. It made you exhale loudly, back arching just a little. He smiled at the way your body was so ready for his cock, his knot to sit deep inside of your pathetic pussy. 

“Oh can’t my little kitten wait? Does she want my cock and puppies so bad??” the moon made him crazy, eyes gleaming red like the blood dripping down the inside of your thighs.”Look at you…leaking all over your bed like a little slut.”

He growled, made your lower stomach combust in need. You whined at his teasing, at the way he so painfully dragged out time. The fact that you could be full now but weren’t made you annoyed. However, Hoseok flipped you around and before you could protest again, did you feel the head of his cock dragging between you swollen folds. He hissed himself and let go of all the control, letting out a final exhale before he bottomed out in you. You could feel him so deep, almost kissing your cervix, but it felt good, it felt amazing. All the anger you fely for him was gone, replaced by your high moans as he moved in and out, replaced with searing hotness. Hoseok could see wetness shining on your thighs, mixing slightly with the blood. It made his wolf growl mine. You were his and nobody else’s, his to hold, his to destroy. 

Your arms were shaking so bad you could hold yourself up, chest falling down onto the sheets. Somewhere along the line had Hoseok ripped his own clothes off, dragging his hands up your sides until they found your neck and hair. He forced you to sit up while keeping his speed up, cock pistoning in and out of your poor pussy, making you feel so good. 

“G-good girl…taking me so well..”he groaned by your ear, squeezing lightly around your neck while you bounced up and down. You were reaching the end, eyes blurring and back arching borderline painfully.”You want it, right? Want all my cum..”

Hoseok was close as well, mouth kissing featherlight on your shoulder, prepping the place where he would bite. He could feel your walls give a final squeez, milking him for everything he got. His teeth pierced your skin and you screamed,  pain and pleasure becoming a big mess of emotions. Hoseok came as well, arms holding you up, resting over your chest. Cum pumped into you, so much so a little bump formed over your lower stomach. 

You weren’t completely there when his knot grew, keeping the cum in your quivering pussy, but Hoseok was. His body fell onto your bed, trying to hold you up until you laid on the messed up sheets. He was breathing hard, watching your chest rise and fall, staring at the wound on your shoulder. You were his now but he was yours as well. 

Hoseok really didn’t think this through because if you rejected him…it would hurt worse than hell for him but you would be fine. He really fucked up..however, at the same time was he happy to finally have you. The wolf was done with pretending and playing, he just wanted to have the one the moon choose for him. 

Tomorrow, he thought as he covered you and himself, tomorrow will he care but tonight are you his and he is yours.

[huearmy]

Not My Friend.

Summary: Yoongi is a ordinary house cat hybrid with an ok life and a huge crush in his ower’s friend. Even if Y/N always treated him lovelly and as an equal he is all insecurities and thoughts of  rejection about being a hybrid, without imagining that the feeling can be reciprocal.

Pairing: cat!Yoongi x human!Reader

Genre: FLUFF, angst,  slight smut.

Words:  3737.

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: not grafic description/mention of sex.

gif is not mine.

Yoongi was kind of pissed, slightly upset... Absolutely stressed. The lights and loud music of the club did'nt help,  the drunk people ingnoring him, dancing around him as if he don't exist, neither. Is unusual for him feel so bad about being who he is, but today is a day that everything screams that he is less than everyone and it won't change. He brought the last swig of his drink to his lips, sad that he could'nt get another one alone, and for the sake of his pride he would'nd ask to Namjoon.

Is also unusual for Yoongi to argue with his friend and brother Namjoon, but today is a day that things got ugly. "You know that I love you hyung. For me we are equals, but is not like this for others. Even if my friends like you, they still seeing you as my pet.". It hurted. Hurts. Because is true, and Yoongi knows it.

And it hurts so... so bad... Because for a second he belived otherwise.

The discussion started when Yoongi thought he could share with his friend the feelings he have for you. You, the pretty human friend of Namjoon, the girl who is usualy at their house with no reason, the one that give the greatest pets ever and whose conversation is so good that he wouldn’t mind that you definitely lived with him. It took too long, but when Yoongi figured out his interest in you being a really romantic thing he was so happy he couldn’t keep to himself. 

“What do you think, Namjoon? How should I tell her?”

It's obvious to Yoongi that the negative reaction of Namjoon was caring, he knows his friend well enough. It wasn’t his intention to freak out and smash Yoongi heart.  He is trying to protect me. He told himself for the hundredth time, fighting against resentment. He discarted his plastic cup in defeat.

And there was you. The reason of his frustration. Oblivious at his issues, dancing with your friends. Namjoon's friends. Not his friends. His stomach droped.

Yoongi sighed. He can't just not stare at you. You are so beautiful to him, feeling yourself while dancing with your eyes closed, your pretty hair swinging around your delicate shouders, hips moving with the music naturaly - because you love dancing even if you are not goot at all. Another music started making you jump and sing. He almost can smell you now.

If he wasn't a scared cat... A hybrid cat... He would be dancing with you, talking in your ears, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you close, maybe kissing you... not only picturing it in his mind. But he is a pet, not a normal guy who you would like to flirt with.

He sighed again. He  remembering clearly when he first meet you two years ago.

____________________________________

Namjoon was a freshman in college, excited with everything new, the new apartament, new city, new knowledge, new friends... Every day he would enter trough the door, drop himself on the couch and speak his day out. Yoongi would listen, commenting on a thing or other once in a while. Your name was present in most stories, or the stories were about you. "I was trying to makes myself clear to the philosophy teacher when this girl spoke. She conclued my trought and argued for herself shuting up the teacher.", or "Remember that girl? Her name is Y/N and we get coffee together today. She is amazing, dude.", and "Y/N made an asshole cry today, seriuosly, she is beautful. She have that 'I don't give a fuck' atitude, you would love her, hyung". And Namjoon was right, as always.

It was on a day that Yoongi was feeling clingy and dependent of Namjoon's full attention but he was supposed to do a project with you in your place though. So insted of cancel with you to spend the day watching Netflix with Yoongi, the younger boy opted for bringing the hybrid to your apartament too.

“Dont worry, hyung. Y/N told me to bring you. Actually she was anxious to know you, she likes cute things you know...”

“Shut up.”

The poor cat was hating every second of it till you opened the door. You treated him as a old friend, greeting him with a genuine smile e tight hug.

"Enter you both and make the home yours. I bought snacks... And! I used that drive you gave me, Joonie, and already started the dissertation... You can revise if want to. It won't take so long as we through, then we can get fat cuddling on my couch."

Yoongi get unsure with you straightforward behavior at the time. But your focus was to finish your and Namjoon's work so he could get Netflix and cuddles as much as he wanted. You made coffee with cream when he said he like it and listened his complains about Namjoon breaking everything.

“Seriously is his third classes this year and we are in May.” Yoongi grunted making you laugh.

"I noticed it! Joonie always talk about you repair skills, though." 

"What else he talks about me?"

You laughed throwing your head back. You both were alone in the living room, sharing a blanket.

" A lot of things!” You said “That you are savage but actually a baby... That you are a good roommate to live with... And if I ever need a a good pianist, sincere advises, or help to hide a dead body, you are the man..."

"Oh..." 

He didn’t expected the two of you to talk much about him.

"And what Joonie told you about me?" You rested your chin in your palm. He take some instants to answer, and as if his brain are of jelly, it went terrible.

"He said I would love you."

Yoongi expected for a rispid response or for you to change the subject, or at least you’d laugh, somethig like it, but no. He would learn later how unpredictable you can be sometimes.

"And do you?" You asked in real interest, looking into his eyes. His cheeks turned pink, and you by instinct brought a hand to his hair and ears. You cooed "Sorry, Yoongs."

____________________________________

Thats right. You are nice to him... Gentle and kind... Always respectfull... You would enter his space and make him comfortable, or respect his distance when his not in the mood. Make silly things just to see his gummy smile and then pet his ears for hours. If any of your friends make fun of him you defend him and then make fun of them lighting the air. The fact of him being a hybrid never seems to bother you or changed the way you treated him.

He had hopes.

But he was just a pet... And you would never look at him the way he looks at you. Mesmerized by the club lights passing over your dancing body, changing color and pattern, he let himself sink a little more in self pity.

As if you could feel his dark troughts you opened your eyes and looked right trough his. His ears rose, tail moving unconscious behind him. You walked straight to him, concerned, ignoring every intoxicated person dancing in your way.

"What's wrong Yoongs?" You raised your voice because of the loud music. "Don't tell me that's nothing."

Yoongi licked his lips nervously. "I not feeling like partying. But Namjoon is having fun so I can't ask to go home now."

You seemed tipsy, he could smell the alcohol on you, along with that sweet perfume that you love and he hates, and your own scent that he loves.

You looked around, maybe looking for Namjoon, face thoughtful, wrinkling your nose cutely. Your tiny hand found it's way to his larger one, and instinctively he hold it tight. Yoongi love holding hands, especially with you.

Suddenly you smiled excited to him, getting closer to his face. So close he could kiss you...

"Do you want another drink?" You asked right in his ear, without get away an inch from him.

"What?" Yoongi asked, not understanding the purpose of the question.

Your smile spread devilishly.

"Dance with me, Yoongs. If you continue wanting to leave I'll get you home."

And then you were pulling him towards the dancing floor.

___________________________________

"Are you sure you want to do it?" His lover's voice got serious, eyes searching for his reassurance.

"I am." He answered not thinking twice.

His lover's smile were so pure and beautiful and genuine and happy that filled him of happyness too.

____________________________________

Yoongi woke up happy. He woke up in a bed that wasn't his. He didn't have to look around to recognize the room he was, the bedsheets were impregnated with your fragrance. The room was dark, the only light coming from a fissure between the curtains. He closed his eyes again, holding tight in a pillow and breathing deep. He still felt sleepy but couldn't stop his mind to revive last night.

You both danced and laughed and drinked and kissed. You made out in the club, in the Uber's backseat, in your couch...

He was naked on your bed. Things didn't stop in just make out.

Yoongi can remember clearly the view of your naked body in front of him for the first time, the lines of your silhouette, how it felt under his hands, so smooth. The way you took of his collar, never breaking eye contact, and then kissed him sweetly before riding him. How your fingers intertwined with his while he thrusted into you till you shake. Beautiful beneath him, repeating his name in moans in his soft black ears, nails finding it's way in his scalp. Your soft skin against his when everything you both could do was heavy breathing, too tired to even pull out of you. Praising him you kissed his lips again and held him close to your bare chest, playing with his hair the way he likes so much.

He never slept so well. Never felt so well with someone.

And then he realized... Where was you? Fully awake now, he searched for you under the fluffy blankets, finding nothing but your empty side of the bed. He slightly panicked.

His jeans were on the ground, beside your discarded dress, but his shirt wasn't anywhere to be seen. Would be a problem he wandering through your apartment shirtless? A ding caught his attention for a forgot cellphone under your desk chair. It was just a notification of low battery, but there were also  five calls and some massages from Namjoon:

[03:18 am]: hyung I'm sorry. rly.

[03:18 am]: where are you?

[03:21 am]:  I'm worried. call me back.

And then the phone died.

"Shit." He needed a charger urgent. Knowing his friend maybe he was already searching for Yoongi in hospitals, morgues and shelters.

He went to the door and suddenly stopped, hand on knob, the thought of calling Namjoon back totally erased of his mind.

You wasn't in bed with him unlike as Yoongi imagined his first morning with you. He should had woke with you in his arms, you would say "good morning" to each other in a meaningful way, then he would give little kisses in your whole face, treading to your lips to a real kiss, you would get embarrassed and hide your red cheeks in his chest... He woke up alone instead.

What if you regretted everything? You could awakened with hangover and regretted the one night stand. Or feeling awkward for sleeping with him... Or disgusted. And if you woke up and realized that you had sex with a hybrid and regretted?  It wouldn't be the first experience Yoongi of this kind. A disposable kink or drunken mistake... It would hurt...

No.

You are different. After the night you had together he could trust you.

Even if you don't feel the same as him... You wouldn't kick him out of your apartment... Or cut him off of your life...

Right?

"Stop being idiot, Yoongi." He told himself. "At least you have Namjoon to buy you beer in the worst case."

Music was playing in your kitchen, a amazing smell of eggs, bacon and something sweet come meet him in the corridor.  Yoongi found you humming happily, holding the door of the fridge open while searching for something.

"I'm running out of milk..." You whispered to yourself. Wearing a purple silk robe and your fluffy slippers you closed the fridge door without taking anything from inside. You did not heard Yoongi enter the kitchen neither expected him to hug you from behind, pulling your back against his chest, arms crossed in your waist. So didn't he. But you were so cute, with messy hair and being just your always self, his own scent still on you. His concerns gone, Yoongi couldn't help it unless be straightforward and reach for your touch.

You let out a yelp of surprise, grabbing his forearms, slightly sticking your nails on it. He chuckled softly at your heart rate speed up.

"Jesus, Yoongs... How are you so quiet?". You said with a hand on heart, already relaxing in his embrace.

"Sorry." His deep morning voice took you by surprise once more, spreading a shiver all over your body, making your silly mind remember the last night events, just to you get flustered. You were so chill until right now, damn. When you woke up facing a sound asleep cat, thigtly holding you close to him, you needed to hold yourself on to not squirm in excitement. Your fear was to make the atmosphere awkward between you two after being friends for so long. So you chilled up and planned to do everything right.

"You was supposed to be sleeping..." You scolded him, turning in his arms to face him, with red cheeks and pouting. "I'd take breakfast in bed for you."

Shock stamped up Yoongi's features. "Really?"

Your face reddened, suddenly the white wall was more interesting. "Really... I must treat you well."

You always treat me well, Y/N. Yoongi through to himself, but by your tone and the slight smirk in your adorable lips, he could tell the difference. "Ok.". He gulped.

"Since you are here... Sit." You said, getting apart from him. "I'll feed my Yoongs.".

Instantly he felt the loss of your warmth and contact, but at the same time he melted with the sound of your voice calling him "my Yoongs". Once you turned your attention back to breakfast again, he choose the chair next to the window, where there was sunlight and he could see the busy avenue  below - many cars going to somewhere, and people like tiny ants doing their own thing in their own lives, and the river running and shining below the bridge, on the other side was the park Yoongi like to go with you...  You were singing along with the music now, serving the table before him, your cleavage exposed by the robe - apparently you were wearing nothing else... Maybe panties too... He scolded himself, biting his thumb's nail to focus on something else, but then he noticed hickeys in the curve of your breasts and in your neck.

"Fuck." He whispered.

But in your not too large kitchen, you listened it clearly.

"What was it?" You let ou a nervous giggle.

"Nothing." Yoongi rested his elbows in the table, hiding face in hands. He couldn't handle look at you with the thought of biting and marking you and make you his and his only in mind. Last night he did so much effort to not do it without your consent, and even more effort to not ask, afraid of rejection.

You brought him back from his dreaminess, pulling him against you, petting his ears and hair. His tense body relaxed instantly.

"Did you sleep well? Need aspirin for headache or something?" You quietly asked, resting your chin on top of his head.

"No. I'm ok." He snuggled his face in the tender skin, scenting you.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. You hummed.

"Oh!" You frozed. "Namjoon is super worried about you...! Like... He called me twenty-four times and left thousands of voice mails and massages..."

He licked his lips.

"I need a charger to tell him I'm ok."

You pout.

"I already did it, silly. I told him you are here with me, safe and sound, and that I won't give you back till you get grumpy.". He smiled and you mirrored it. Then you got serious, tracing his jawline with your index finger. "He think you are upset with him... and you really was not ok yesterday. What happened?"

Yoongi gulped. He can be sincere with you.

"Namjoon can be an asshole sometimes. We argued, and I disappeared from the club, my phone is dead so..."

"It seems you are giving him the cold shoulder." You pointed.

"I'm not." He finally closed his arms around you. " I just forget about him when with you."

Your heart speeded up again, making him smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Due to his hesitancy, you added. "You don't need to."

"He told me to not expect too much from our... His friends. 'Cuz most of them only see me as a pet of him."

You remained silent for a moment, and then sighed.

"We really have some friends that are... Ignorants. And we can't do anything about it. But there's Hoseok and Jin who understand that hybrids aren't different of humans, and is obvious for me how much they like you."

"I know... I know." Yoongi pressed his eyes tightly. "We argued because... being an hybrid there's limits that I can't cross... At some point I'll be repelled, even by Hoseok, Jin..." He gulped again. "Even by you."

You pulled away, eyebrows joinig in irritation. Your words sounded offended.

"Seriously, Yoongi? After years knowing each other, didn't I make my positioning and support to hybrid clear? Or my affection for you? For heaven's sake...! We had sex. How can you doubt..."

"It wouldn't be the first time of being the fetish of someone that thinks I'm not a man at all." He interrupted.

You shuted up.

The angry expression faded away from your features, replaced by shock and then sadness. In your absence of words, Yoongi continued.

"I was afraid you would regret last night... I even through you would cut me off of your life, or at least kick me out of the apartment..." He let out a mockery laugh, not handling to look you in the eyes anymore. "You will be judged for sleeping with a hybrid. And I don't want it. Don't want you being treated differently by anyone...".

You approached again, taking his face in your tiny hands, lovely caressing his cheeks with your soft thumbs - just like last night, and he almost expected for you to kiss him. You were being soft and caring, but at same time, firmly make him look you straight in the eyes.

"I'm already judged, Yoongs. A lot of people think I'm fool and talk about me behind my back." The voice that reached his ears was so soft now. You opened a smile of pure pride. "And I don't give a damn.".

He couldn’t break eye contact, he couldn't dare to blink and lost a second of the sight of you.

"It don't matter for me race, gender, age, sexual orientation... If you have fluffy ears and tail or not. I'll love and respect everybody equally. At least I try, reading about and listening, and learning what I don’t know. You can always tell me what you are felling or where I’m failing..." 

You have beautiful eyes and now they were sad again.

"I don't care about what those...bastards talk about hybrids... And I'm sorry for your past experiences..." You took a deep breath. Thinking in someone having the opportunity of be with Yoongi and choosing to break his heart make you sick. "For me you are an amazing man.".

"These words mean the world to me, Y/N." Yoongi said in his breath, feeling belonging as never before. 

"You welcome, Yoongs."

___________________________________

A lazy saturday came along after this. You both spend all day cuddling in the couch, netflix on, or sharing earphones, and chit chating here and there. When the hunger came you ordered take out and decided who would get up and pay the delivery guy with rock paper and scissors. Yoongi lost it, but you got up anyways to pick plates and forks. And then you were tangled under the covers once more.

Hanging out like this is not unusual for you two. But it felt odd for Yoongi, different from before, like it was the first time. Sleeply observing you scrolling through your social media, Yoongi conclued that If having sex with you didn't ruined the friendship you have, expressing his feelings probably would.

But Yoongi wanted be in the same page as you.

You were watching a video on Instagram, not really focused on it, with your free hand playing with his hair, making him even more sleepy. You could feel his gaze on you, but besides the butterflys in your belly, it doesn't make you uncomfortable at all. 

"Y/N..." He said in his low voice.

"Humm?" Blocking the cellphone's screen, you stared back at him. Your nose at centimeters from his.

He took your hand, circulating his thumb in the torso of it in a caring way. The gesture not passing unnoticed by you.

"I need you to know... Even if it isn't reciprocal... Last night had a whole meaning for me. I like like you, Y/N."

You stated at him in silence for a moment,  making the whole world freeze. Before the conversation you both had in the kitchen that morning, Yoongi would be panicking, already regretting telling you such a thing. Now he just waited.

Like he wanted to, you smiled. With your beautiful lips, warm eyes, and all your body too.

"I know, sleepyhead."

You leaned to him, he came to you too, no hesitation. And that's it. He was kissing you again. 

"We must talk about this reciprocity thing later." You whispered against his mouth.

Yoongi was kind of horny, slightly euphoric... Absolutely happy. 

___________________________________

So, I really hope you liked it, pls interact, tell what you think... I’ll be posting more if I have a good feedback, probably a witch!au with Jin :) kiss kiss pls I dont want to be insecure about it kiss kiss.

[satanlord666420]

Blood runs thick

Hello I like to write in my spare time so feel free to check out this writing. GRAFIC!! I'm still working on it there is a lot to be fixed a do still need to finish isn't but here's what I have so far. Message me with suggestions Around midnight, I stumble my way down my street chanting to the neighbors “i'm so drunk!” of course no one answers. I get to my front door and throw myself through the doorway, almost stepping on my cat. The damned thing blends in with the surroundings. guess shadow was a fitting name after all. I rip off my clothes and crawl into bed. I wake up to a vase breaking. That damn cat always is knocking my stuff over. I get up in a hustle to go clean it up. A quick glance at the clock and i see it's almost 3. I come up to the crime scene and start to sweep it up. A chill shot up my spine but the thermostat was at its normal temperature. I now notice that my back door is cracked open, which is unusual… Am i in a car? I feel motion but can’t see anything. I hear music too. I am in a car! How the fuck did i get here?! Is this a prank? A sudden slam on the brakes make me hit my head, sending a sharp pain up and down my body rendering me breathless. Light. I can see light now. But only for a second before i feel rough hands slip over my mouth and heavy breath on my neck. In an unfamiliar rugged voice, “don't fret sweetheart we're just gonna have some fun.” Panic and fear hits me as though i just got slammed by a semi-truck. i try to run but he has a tight grip on my arm, his nails digging into me so hard i can feel the blood trickling down. As i'm laying here all i can see is the top quarter of a door and a side table with an odd tray. The lighting is so dim i can't tell what is on the tray. The door opens and i feel the vibrations of the footsteps coming closer and closer. The man's face comes into view, the first thing i notice is a big scar going from the left side of his lip to the middle of his cheek. I look around for an escape. Theres the door i saw earlier but i have no way to get to it in my current situation.“ haha i love the fear in their eyes when they finally see where they are. Anyway since you're going to be here for a while let's get to know each other. The man pulls a knife and mutters "i'm going to do to you what she did to me." I gently feel the knife cut my lip to the middle of my cheek My names jeff, and yours is?” “Screw you!” An evil laugh escapes from his sinful mouth. He sounded as if he was satan himself. “Haha you're a fiery one arent you? I like it, however that's just not gonna fly around here.” He grabs one of the other odd instruments of torture from the table. “So let's try this again. What's your name sweetheart?” “Vanessa!” “Ah vanessa what a pretty name. I once went to school with a vanessa...she was a bitch. Do you like your life?” “Yes!i love my life! Please let me go!” “Awe that's so cute. You're begging, please do continue. It makes it more fun!” I begin to cry because i see no hope. Jeffs smile spreads from ear to ear. “Now that we know a bit about each other let's start the fun part! I feel a tear jerking pain across my cheek. A slap so strong it split my lip open. I can taste the blood in my mouth. Grabbing a scissor like instrument from the stand he reaches for my hand. I can feel the cold against both sides of my finger. A whimper escapes from my lips. pain. pain is all i can feel. Waves sending through all through my body. i scream. Laughter mixed with screaming radiates through the air. One finger after the next, chop chop chop. All i can do is cry and scream, scream till my throat is raw and bleeding. After im left with nothing but stumps for fingers he moves onto a hammer. Before i could even say a word… CRACK. Right into my knee, breaking through to the other side. At this point i can't scream anymore. The blood from my wounds falls to the floor and surround me in puddles. I feel his hand around my broken knee. He starts to wiggle it around and seemings mocked my by playing with it. He stared deep into my eyes as he did this. Nothing to say just a grin plastered onto his face. Now reaching for a clever, he stretches my mouth open and places something in it. I cant close my mouth. He reaches into my mouth and grabs my tongue. Slicing it off my mouth fills with blood i start to choke on it. Spitting and gasping for air i try to scream but all that comes out is gurgling.

[emaanch143]

AMAZING CHRISTMAS NAIL PAINT DESIGNE || NAIL GRAFICES

[spanacblog]

Idei Nail-Art Inedite pentru Toamna 2017!

Idei Nail-Art Inedite pentru Toamna 2017!

Vrei sa obtii un look original? Atunci inclusiv manichiura ta trebuie sa arate formidabil. Iti sugeram sa preiei cateva idei originale pentru a crea un model nail-art neobisnuit, care sa te scoata din anonimat fara prea mult efort! Semne grafice ca elemente decorative pentru manichiura ta. Ce aduc nou stilistii in acest sezon puncte de exclamatie – am depistat noul trend urmarind modelele…

[artzescape7]

Spring Pink by grafic-703 featuring high waisted skirts

Long shirt dress 1 990 ZAR - modcloth.com

Christopher Kane high waisted skirt 8 335 ZAR - matchesfashion.com

Essie nail polish 105 ZAR - beauty.com

[anapacquiao]

Just Pinned to Accesories: Grafic Design Nails, angelicakcool https://t.co/SGJOq8e3x8 https://t.co/J7gbnKATrA

[universodonna-official]

SUMMER MANICURE IDEAS: NAIL ART GEOMETRICHE E ASTRATTE

SUMMER MANICURE IDEAS: NAIL ART GEOMETRICHE E ASTRATTE

TANTI FANTASTICHE ISPIRAZIONI PER LA TUA NAIL ART GRAFICA! Abbiamo parlato spesso di Nail Arit Astratta e Geometrica quest’anno, due dei nail trend più cool che spopolano sui social da tutto il 2021.E per questa fantastica stagione estiva non sono da meno!Dalle french all’intera manicure, le decorazioni astratte e geometriche sono gettonatissime, con linee dritte e curve, forme rigorose o…

[nickiebascov-blog]