#head has been perpetually exhausted so

[daemonhold]

finally finished my barrage of early shifts so its vidya games for the time being

[booksflowersmoonwings]

you ever get sick and tired of thinking about how sick and tired you are of being sick and tired?

anyone have cute art of asra (the arcana), shino (naruto), or john doe (uncanny valley game) they feel like sharing?

or gush about something cool they just finished creating?

I dunno could use some. goodness.

[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader

Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play

Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.

Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.

Warnings: NSFW, Blood, Vampire Kink, Overstimulation, Crying, Light Choking, Dirty Talk

You and Astarion had always had an arrangement.

To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.

That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.

It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.

You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.

You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.

But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…

Still, you were never going to force it. 

So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.

Until that changed.

When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.

A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.

Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.

But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.

When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.

Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed  as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.

Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.

There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.

You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.

“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.

“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”

“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”

He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.

His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”

Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.

His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.

“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”

Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.

His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”

Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.

That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.

After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.

He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.

“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”

You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.

He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.

When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.

You had thought about this moment too often.

What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.

He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.

“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”

You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.

A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.

“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”

“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”

He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed. 

“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”

You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.

It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.

“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.

He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”

His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.

“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”

As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.

“Astarion…”

“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”

Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.

“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.

He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.

“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”

“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”

“Astarion please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Bite me harder.”

“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.

“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.

You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.

“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”

You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.

Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.

He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.

“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.

Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.

It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.

“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”

Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.

“May I, pet?”

All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.

“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”

With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.

You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.

“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”

He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.

And still his words didn’t cease.

“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”

He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.

“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.

“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”

“Can’t - I can’t…”

“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

“Astarion.”

“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control. 

“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”

It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.

You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.

Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.

“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”

Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.

And he was right.

You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.

It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.

“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”

Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.

Fear.

“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”

You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.

“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”

The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk. 

“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”

“Astarion.”

A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.

When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.

Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”

He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.

He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.

When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.

You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.

“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”

“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”

“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest. 

He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.

“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”

You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, my darling.”

One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. 

You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!

[moonstruckme]

could i request poly!marauders with reader who has trouble sleeping/insomnia pls? it’s so frustrating not being able to sleep and seeing everyone sleeping and then having a raging head and being exhausted throughout the days,,, just want someone to make the nights a little less stressful :((

Sorry for the long wait sweetness! Thanks for requesting

modern au

poly!marauderes x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You want desperately to know what time it is. With the blackout curtains covering the windows and the digital clock stowed away in the drawer of the nightstand, it’s impossible to guess whether the sun is rising outside or if it’s only an hour past when you went to bed. You honestly have no idea. It feels like you’ve been lying here for an eternity, willing yourself to relax, but in your experience it’s equally likely that ten minutes have gone by. 

It’s that much worse with your boyfriends snoozing all around you. You envy Sirius’ open-mouthed snore. You feel trapped. You want to be sleeping with them but you can’t, so you want them to be awake with you, but waking them would be cruel. When you’d first gone to bed James had held you up against him, but it hadn’t taken long after he’d fallen asleep for him to roll over, unconsciously abandoning you between his and Remus’ backsides. Remus is a light enough sleeper that you know he’ll wake if you try to get out of bed, so you’re stuck here, staring into the formless black of your room, not knowing how much longer you have to endure it. 

Eventually you sit up on your elbow, reaching over Remus to check the time on your phone. Your hand is arrested just above the nightstand. 

“What,” Remus’ voice is croaky. “What’re you doing?” 

You don’t answer, knowing an honest one will only earn you a scolding. Remus rolls over and takes you hand with him. You can just barely see the outline of his head in the darkness, but you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. 

“You know it’s only going to make things worse,” he says quietly. 

“It's worse not knowing,” you whisper. 

Remus sighs, rubbing his thumb into the meat of your palm. Some of your apprehension eases just from having him awake with you. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His voice is barely a murmur, but you can feel James starting to stir at your back. “I still think we have to try what the doctor said for now, okay?” 

He pushes his warm palm flat against yours, coaxing a small “okay” out of you. 

“I can stay up with you.” 

“No,” you say, despite the selfish voice in your head going Yes!. Remus needs more sleep than the rest of you to begin with, and you’re more accustomed to going without it than he is. “That’s okay, you should sleep.” 

You’re bracing yourself for his denial when James rolls over behind you, one big arm wrapping around your front. 

“Hey,” he slurs, “where’d you go?” 

You smother a laugh and Remus makes a similarly amused sound, likely guessing what had really happened. He reaches the hand not holding yours over your head to pet James’ hair. 

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you say softly. 

“Stay put this time, hm?” James replies fondly, giving your middle a squeeze. “Y’supposed to be on cuddle duty.” 

This time you can’t suppress it, and a little giggle escapes you. “Sorry,” you say. 

Remus hums in gentled remonstrance, you’re not sure at whom. 

“You’re all being terribly loud,” Sirius groans, and then there’s a shape leering over James’ head, doubtlessly glowering down at the three of you. “Why are we awake?”

“Someone couldn’t sleep,” Remus murmurs. 

Sirius makes a whiny pitying sound, reaching over James to paw blindly at you. You inhale when his perpetually freezing fingers fumble at your collarbone. James saves you, clasping Sirius’ hand in his own. 

“What else is new,” you try to joke. It comes out sounding more glum than you’d like. “Sorry I woke you guys.” 

“No, don’t be, angel.” James’ hand finds its way underneath your sleep shirt, thumb stroking the skin just above your navel. “We’d rather be awake with you anyway.” 

Sirius makes a sound like he could disagree, but his slender fingers burrow into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way he knows you like. You bear the cold for his sake. 

“There’s no point in us all being awake,” you say, though you’re nearly purring from all the loving. “S’not your problem.” 

Sirius tsks. “We’ve been over this, doll. Your problems are ours, too.” 

You hum like Yeah, I know. Sirius takes in a breath like he might say more, but Remus comes to your rescue. 

“Do you want one of us to rub your back, dove?” 

That sounds amazing, actually. But you’re not sure if it’ll help, and you don’t want to put your boyfriends to work if there’s no promise it’ll do anything. “That’s okay,” you say. 

“No, come on.” James is already turning you in his arms. He cozies up to your front, big palm splayed out over your back. “We’re supposed to get you relaxed, right?” 

You nod, and his chest feels warm against your cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep, though.” 

“That’s okay,” he replies readily. “Let’s just give it a try, yeah?”

You hum, acquiescence inlaid with guilt. From behind James, you hear Sirius chide you quietly (“Stop that”) and you know he’s heard it. James likely does too, but he ignores it, big palm beginning to move in broad, slow circles on your back. You try to help as best you can, relaxing into his hold and shutting your eyes. Even so, you grow tenser with frustration the longer it doesn’t work. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Remus murmurs behind you. His words brush over your nape like a caress. “Relax. Listen to his heartbeat.” 

You nestle your face closer to James’ chest, and he increases the pressure on your back as if to keep you there. You can hear the steady bump-bump of his heart as well as feel it against your cheek, and something about it has a tranquilizing effect on your own. It creates a beat to match the rhythm of his hand gliding along your back, steady and unwavering. You can hear your own breathing matching up to his, Remus’ too. Distantly, you become aware that Sirius is snoring again, but the thought dissipates half-formed. Your limbs feel warm and soft as wax. 

You don’t notice James moving until his lips come down on the top of your head, his palm still wearing its same track into your back. “Love you,” he says. 

You think you echo the sentiment, but you’re too far gone to know for sure.

[stevie-petey]

stug stug stug pleaseee i would LOVE to see something where bug is comforting steve maybe he had a fight w his dad or j in general. i’m so excited for season 4! but obvi take your time j know that we’re all very excited bc we just know that you will blow us away with your writing!!

really missin happy steve and bug so im writin this <33

enjoy !

"i dont think it looks that bad."

"youre a terrible liar, y/n."

"im not lying!" but the way your voice pitches gives it all away, and steve knows it.

"im ruined." he drops his head into your lap, burying his face in the flesh of your thigh. partially because hes mourning the loss of his hair, but mostly because he adores your thighs and revels in them whenever he can.

steve is in mourning. he can be as selfish as he wants when it comes to your thighs. its his god given right as your boyfriend.

knowing what hes doing, you shove steves face away from your thighs, though not unkindly. youre still shy around him, his touch against your bare skin foreign after only a month of dating. steve is gentle and patient with you, he understands that youve never really been in a relationship before, so he takes his time with you.

secretly, you adore how gentle he is. how cautiously he skims his fingers over your waist or how softly he breathes against your neck. it makes everything easier, lighter, for you. to be loved so tenderly without any falsehood behind it.

lost in your honey warmth of love for steve, your fingers tangle through his hair. that is, whats left of it. steves chest faces you, the hem of his shirt has lifted slightly during his complaining. soft skin spills out from underneath, revealing a plush tummy. with a mind of their own, your eyes draw down the lines of his abdomen. a low hum stirs in your own stomach.

"are you seriously checking me out right now?" steve taps your nose with his finger, snapping you out of your daze. "i mean, here i am, the love of your life, mourning the loss of beautiful hair that was taken from us too soon, and youre drooling over me."

you flick his forehead, he scrunches his face, and its familiar and lovely. "i wasnt drooling, i just wasnt listening to your dramatic despair."

steve gasps, hand over his chest. "my hair was murdered!"

"honey, only like, two inches were cut off."

well, more like three, but you wont tell him that.

somehow one of the kids, almost certainly mike, left their chewed up gum on the counter top of family video when they visited earlier today. they came in like a storm, turning the place upside down before you, robin, or steve could even stop them. apparently dustin had wanted a new movie, will was bored, lucas wanted max to go outside, and el forced mike to join because shes never seen a movie store before.

the wreckage they left behind for such simple reasons for even entering the store in the first place had astounded you.

then, because steve is always perpetually suffering the consequences of the partys actions the most, had dropped his head down onto the counter top in exhaustion as soon as they left.

right in the same spot the gum had been left.

never before have you ever seen steve crumble to the floor quite so suddenly. it was comical, really. the way he shrieked in horror while you and robin watched, neither having any idea what had just happened.

which leads you to now: consoling steve as you comb through his newly cut hair.

"what, are you implying two inches isnt a huge amount of length?" steve raises an eyebrow at you, teasing, and you blush furiously. sparing you, he doesnt point it out and instead changes the topic. "i hate those little heathens, i really do."

"how do we know one of them is the gum culprit?"

"because theyre cursed little shitheads who always mar my appearance one way or another." then, as an afterthought, steve adds, "plus that wheeler kid has a weird obsession with watermelon gum."

again you try to defend the kids, even though you know it was most definitely mike. sure, he shouldnt have left his gum on the counter, but it was funny. "and how do we know it was watermelon gum?"

"i could smell it when robin was cutting all my hair off, angel."

"and yet youre as handsome as ever!" you press a purposely messy kiss atop of steves head, blowing slightly into his face and making a dramatic kissing sound when you pull away. anything to distract him from realizing it was all mikes fault.

gotta protect the little shithead somehow.

steve shrieks, reminiscent of the shriek from earlier, and shoves you away as he wipes at his face. "ew!"

"how dare you wipe my kiss away, steve harrington."

"you spit on me!"

"lovingly."

steve rolls onto his stomach and throws himself onto you. now its your turn to shriek as he throws his weight on top of you, tackling you onto his bed. luckily his parents arent home, otherwise theyd have some very horrified questions.

"steve!" you land with a soft thud on his pillows, and he smiles up from above you. hes all proud, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and his eyes shine with adoration for you.

hes beautiful. you cant believe hes yours.

"youre supposed to be comforting me, angel!" steve presses himself down even more, rendering you unable to move and wiggle away from him. you squeal when his hands find your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tickles you. "i mean, im wounded here!"

you squeal with laughter as his hands attack you, mercilessly, yet gentle nonetheless. "s-steve! stop!"

"not until you apologize to my hair."

"your hair?" more laughter rips from your chest, ribs aching.

"mhm, tell my hair that its still handsome. his feelings are hurt." steve buries his nose into your neck, causing you to giggle even more, and the sound encases his body and reminds him of everything good and lovely.

you try to pull away, but steve has you pinned. "youre-ah! youre such an-an idiot!"

"that doesnt sound like an apology, y/n."

finally giving up, you force out an apology in between breaths of laughter. "i-im sorry! your-your hair is handsome!"

steves fingers leave your sides, but he pulls you deep into his chest and collapses upon you. he nuzzles into your neck, wraps his hands around you, tries to meld the two of you into one. "much better," he mumbles into your skin.

"your hair really is handsome, you know." you draw circles into steves back, breath slowly returning to normal. fingers finding his hair once more, you play with the strands and massage his head with your nails. "youre handsome. two inches lost or not.”

"really?" steve lifts his face, looks down at you, preening at your words with an unusual shyness.

you bring your hands to his face, holding it with all the love you have for him. "the handsomest."

lips find lips, and soon the two of you get lost in each other as you inevitably always do.

[odilelajolie]

Hunted, Ch. 1

Summary:

Several years after escaping FBI custody, Cooper Adams has quietly settled in a remote Vermont town. He's a monster in remission--his violent urges lay dormant.

But when he catches sight of Alice, a traumatized 18-year-old girl, a new form of predatory darkness overtakes his demented mind. Young and achingly vulnerable, she's a lost soul as alone in the world as he is.

Alice needs the care of a proper Daddy, and as soon as she stops resisting, Cooper knows she'll accept the special kind of love he's been saving for a special little girl like her...

Ch. 1: Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

As far as Alice could tell, it would be yet another ordinary night in a long sequence of ordinary nights at the Sugar Maple Diner. 

Though it wasn’t as if she entirely minded. There was a strong part of her that actually took comfort in the familiarity of it all, the mundane routine of her small, simple world, regardless of the fact that it was rather dull most days. 

Dull meant safe—and safe was a good thing, especially for someone like her. 

Alice absently rotated her sore neck and shoulders as she made her way into the cozy, 50s-nostalgic restaurant, offering a friendly wave to the owner, Mr. Andrews, one of the only people in town who still bothered to interact with her. Not only had he given her a job when everyone else had refused to hire her, but he and his wife had even opened their home to Alice on occasion for a glass of lemonade, or tea and cookies, or a holiday meal. 

Alice rarely accepted these invitations from the elderly couple, always fearful she’d inadvertently exhaust the goodwill they generously harbored for her. But she appreciated their kindness, an increasing rarity for Alice, so she was always happy to volunteer whenever they needed help with little projects around their house to express her gratitude in return. 

Alice idled near the jukebox just beyond the hostess stand to see if Mr. Andrews would return her greeting, but he was busy behind the bar serving beer to a group of chatty truckers, and clearly didn’t have much spare time to say hello. 

Shaking off the brief, sharp pang of loneliness, the aching desire for someone—anyone—to talk to her, Alice headed straight for the break room to change into her uniform—an old fashioned pale pink dress with a white apron. She secured her hair in a high ponytail, and exactly five minutes before six p.m., she returned to the main dining room for her shift, forcing a smile on her face. 

The hours elapsed in the same, slow fashion they always did. The dinner rush—if merely five parties of no more than four people across three hours could be called that—consisted of the same group of Tuesday night regulars Alice had been waiting on for nearly a year now. Alice no longer bothered with trying to introduce herself, much less engage in small talk with her tables, for the town locals had long made it very clear ever since her return that they had no interest in speaking with her. So instead, Alice remained small and silent as she scribbled orders on her notepad, taking up as little space as possible as she refilled drinks, cleaned up spills, and delivered steaming plates of comfort food from the kitchen.

And she did all of this with her head perpetually lowered, so that no one would have to suffer the unnecessary discomfort of looking at her. 

By ten o’clock, the restaurant was deserted, and the only other employee remaining was Ted, the largely wordless cook who kept to himself even more strictly than Alice did. Alice generally took her own meal break around this time when it was just the two of them twiddling their thumbs until closing, silence broken only by the rockabilly and Doo-wop melodies sung by the jukebox. But before she could write down her request for a cup of soup and a half-sandwich, losing herself for a few moments to the croons of Elvis Presley—wring my faithful heart; tear it all apart; but love me—the door chime cheerfully rang, signaling the arrival of a customer. 

Alice gulped at the intimidating sight of the new arrival, and he was definitely new—she surely would have noticed him around the tiny town before now if he were a local. He was almost as broad as he was tall—and he was frighteningly tall—with the build of an elite athlete, like a champion MMA fighter, his long limbs hard and big and savage. The charcoal sweater and dark jeans he wore actually seemed to struggle to keep his toned muscles contained. 

He had thick, silky hair the color of dark roast coffee, and a closely-shorn mustache and short, angular beard. He was a very handsome man, perhaps in his early-to-mid forties, but when Alice finally met his eyes, she was instantly rendered breathless by a powerful, inexplicable sense of sheer terror that seemed to seize her by the throat, and choke her. 

Shadowed by a prominent brow bone, his inky, hooded eyes were disturbingly dark. Chilling. They reminded Alice of the eyes of a shark. Fathomless. Cold. 

Predatory. 

“Hey there…can I get a table?” 

Unlike his frightening eyes, the velvety timber of the man’s deep voice actually inspired an equally strong sense of comfort—relief—causing the paranoid internal alarms within her body to faintly recede. 

Alice was rendered profoundly unbalanced, nearly on the verge of collapsing to the floor from the whiplash of such opposing instincts.

Perplexed by her body’s strange reactions to the stranger, Alice quickly nodded and dutifully lowered her head. She reached for a menu and silently beckoned the man to follow her, her shoulders arched nearly all the way to her ears as she timidly guided him to her favorite booth by the windows with the prettiest view of the forest.

He followed her with slow, heavy foot falls, and Alice nearly caved in on herself when she was directly confronted with just how much bigger he was up close as he slid into the booth with athletic, equanimous movements. 

Even sitting down, he was huge. 

Alice placed the menu on the table once he appeared settled, and reached into her apron pocket for her notepad and pen, waiting expectantly for him to provide his drink order, as all other customers automatically did upon sitting. 

But when he didn’t speak after several moments, Alice shyly raised her head, and was surprised to find the man gently smiling at her. 

He looked even more handsome when he smiled—

“There you are,” he said warmly, his voice triggering a sudden influx of delightful tingles throughout her weary muscles. “How are you doing tonight?”

Too stunned to speak, Alice felt hot blush rising to her cheeks in embarrassment. 

How long had it been since someone had asked her how she was? 

Seemingly sensing her unease, the man continued, “Sorry—you probably don’t want to talk with an old man like me,” he said ruefully, and Alice was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. This handsome stranger was being more sociable with her than anyone had in months, and she was messing everything up. “Would it be possible to order—”

“I’m A-Alice,” she interrupted shakily—awkwardly—cheeks boiling at the mousy sound of her own voice. 

To her relief, the man’s smile only widened, and there was a flicker of playfulness in his eyes, somewhat tempering the otherwise unnerving quality in his dark gaze. 

“That’s a very pretty name,” he replied. “I’m Cooper.”

Cooper. Alice repeated the name in her head. It sounded strong and masculine.

She quite liked it. 

“Put us together and we’re rock stars,” he added. Alice frowned in confusion. “I…I don’t follow—”

“Alice Cooper?” Alice shook her head, and Cooper released a slow sigh. “Ahh…don’t mind me—I’m betraying my age here. He’s before your time.”

“Oh. Okay.” Alice swallowed hard. “Umm…w-welcome to the S-Sugar Maple Diner,” she offered, remembering she needed to do her job. It had been so long since she’d been required to introduce herself to a customer that Alice was quickly finding she was woefully out of practice with the basics. “M-may I get you something to drink, sir?” 

“Well I was taking a look at what you have on tap, but I notice you don’t have a bartender right now,” Cooper mentioned. “And I suspect you’re not quite old enough to legally go behind the bar.”

“Yeah…the bar closes at nine on weekdays. Mr. Andrews—he’s the owner—he already left for the night, and he usually handles that stuff.” Embarrassed, Alice tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Call me Cooper.”

“I’m sorry, Cooper.”

“So, how old are you?”

“Eighteen—but I’ll be nineteen next month.”

She wasn’t sure why she shared that detail. It certainly wasn’t as if her upcoming birthday made her seem any less young and pathetic. 

“Ahh…definitely too young to pour alcohol.” Cooper softly chuckled, his deep-chested rumble pleasantly tickling her ears. “In that case, how about a nice cold glass of Coke?”

“Would you prefer a frosted glass or ice?”

“Ice, please.”

Alice wrote down the order with a nod. “Coke with ice, coming right up.”

She began to turn on her toes to prepare his soda, but then he spoke again.

“So what do you recommend here?” Cooper asked. 

“Recommend?” Alice repeated slowly. “You mean…to eat?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alice realized what a stupid response it truly was.

The townsfolk’s collective avoidance of her was clearly not entirely to blame for her poor conversation skills. 

Of course he was asking her what to eat. She was a waitress. It was her job.

Mercifully, Cooper didn’t poke fun at her idiocy. “Yeah, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?” he asked. “If you were to join me for a meal, what would you order?”

Alice squeaked, “You want me to join you?” 

Cooper’s eyes widened, and he appeared even more shocked than she was. “Well, I was speaking hypothetically, but…sure! Why not. Care to join me?”

Alice thought she might actually pass out from embarrassment. 

Not only had she forgotten how to have a normal conversation, but she’d forgotten all about basic social cues. Sarcasm. Hypotheticals. 

Cooper was being friendly. Nothing more. He didn’t actually want to spend time with her—he just had good manners. 

“Umm…I’m really not supposed to…” Alice trailed off, nervously biting her lip. 

Unperturbed, Cooper shrugged his mountainous shoulders. “Perhaps some other time then.” Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and added in a conspiratorial murmur, “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.” 

There was an undeniably patronizing quality to his warm baritone, but it wasn’t condescending in a negative way. The lilting way Cooper spoke was gentle, daresay caring, the low pitch of his manly deepness perfectly matched with a bright, uplifting enthusiasm.

Cooper spoke to her the way Alice remembered her own father used to speak to her—as if no one else in the world existed. As if she were important.

As if every word she spoke were the most brilliant thing ever to be uttered in history of the world, and he couldn’t get enough. 

Cooper had a…Dad voice, the kind of voice that felt like a warm, clean blanket fresh out of the dryer. 

He had a voice of absolute safety—a voice that made her feel brave. 

Like she could do anything. 

“I recommend the deluxe cheeseburger with fries,” Alice said, unable to contain her giddy smile. “Ted makes the best in town.”

Cooper kept a careful gaze on Alice through his peripherals as he chewed and swallowed the mediocre cheeseburger, though he made sure to provide plenty of appreciative grunts and moans throughout his labored consumption for the girl’s benefit. 

He’d been patiently watching her for nearly a year now. It wouldn’t do well to worry the skittish thing when he was so close to finally making her his, for little Alice was a painfully insecure, highly sensitive girl. She was pitifully naïve and defenseless, lonely and desperate for affection.

She was perfect—and finally ripe for his taking. 

When he’d originally made the decision to settle down in the middle of fucking nowhere, Vermont after several years on the run, he’d simply planned on living quietly for whatever remained of his existence. The monster within lay dormant—at least for now—the compulsion to destroy and dissect no longer eroding what little remained of his sanity. The urge had been a sickness, a magmatic fever, burning so hot in his veins it was boiling him alive. Cooper knew quite well it would have killed him eventually. 

But now, his insides were…cooler, warm instead of blisteringly hot, and the dark, animalistic impulses currently thrumming through his body were far less bloodthirsty in nature compared to his prior proclivities. 

Perhaps he was in remission. 

He’d spent more than forty years keeping the two opposing halves of his psyche strictly separate, diligently compartmentalizing every aspect of his life down to the most minute detail, but when he’d caught sight of this tiny angel of a girl almost ten months ago—so sweet and innocent and frightened and alone—Cooper was leveled, and struck with an epiphanic clarity.

Perhaps the separatist approach to mitigating his dangerous urges no longer served him. 

Perhaps the only way for him to survive was by reconciling his infernal hungers, once and for all. 

When Cooper had escaped FBI custody—doubling his body count in the process—he’d been forced to accept that the closest thing to real human connection he’d ever been able access, his family, was lost to him forever. He missed being a husband. He missed being a father. 

But when he saw Alice, he realized he could still be both.

She was as alone in the world as he was, an isolated little girl shunned by nearly everyone around her. At merely eighteen, she was young and exceedingly vulnerable, in dire need of a loving authority figure to guide her and keep her safe. 

And yet, she was also a woman. Barely legal, but a woman nonetheless, and a mouthwatering one at that. Alice was a tiny thing, shorter even than Riley was when he last saw her, her petite body a tight little package of soft, untouched femininity he was growing more and more ravenous to taste.  

Cooper had always been partial to blondes, and his little Alice was a natural platinum. A “baby” blonde. 

Sweet little baby blonde with her pretty baby blue eyes—

With her milky skin and delicate features—not to mention those pouty pink lips just begging to have something hard shoved between them—Alice could look like a porcelain doll one moment, and a sex kitten the next. She was an undeniably gorgeous girl, not yet aware of her erotic allure, and under different circumstances, he knew she could have had any man on his knees begging to fuck her.

Fortunately for him, the entire town thought she was batshit crazy.

And Cooper was certainly not one to be put off by a little madness—

“How’s your dinner?” Alice asked sweetly from a few tables away. She’d been refilling ketchup bottles and rolling silverware for the last twenty minutes or so, responding beautifully—albeit awkwardly—to his subtle prompts for casual conversation.

Cooper wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and made an exaggerated show of patting his stomach. “You were right—this is the best burger I’ve ever had,” he lied smoothly. “Excellent recommendation, sweetheart.”

The girl’s cheeks instantly flooded with pretty pink blush—she likes being called sweetheart—and she shyly lowered her head, but couldn’t resist looking back at him mere seconds later with a demure giggle.   

Good girl. She found him attractive. 

His depraved plans would be much easier for her to adapt to with her sexual attraction already engaged—

“Can I get you anything else, Cooper?” Alice asked. She sounded hopeful. 

His left eye twitched at her use of his first name, one of the few…ticks beyond his control, as a small spark of violent rage kindled deep in his gut, leaving a sickly metallic taste in his mouth. 

The urge. 

Cooper was suddenly overcome with a vision—a lucid hallucination, really—of marching directly to where the girl stood, and shoving her to the floor so quickly the air would be knocked out of her lungs. He saw himself tearing off her clothes and wrapping his big hands around narrow torso, and squeezing, hard enough to crack her ribs, before mounting her like a beast in the wild, ready to take his quivering bitch in heat. He wanted to feel her small, supple body struggling beneath him, his scared, mewling kitten desperate to free herself by any means necessary.

He wanted her to scream. He wanted her to cry.

She was so fucking tiny he’d absolutely crush her with his size. Cooper was already far bigger than most people, but compared to his little girl, his sweet little nymph, he was indestructible, as vast and powerful as a god. 

He could do anything he wanted to her. He could violate her beyond recognition.

He could fuck her within an inch of her life—

Realizing he’d zoned out far longer than intended, he released a sharp exhale to snuff out the ember of fury, reminding himself that it was perfectly okay that the girl was calling him Cooper—for now. 

She’d be calling him Daddy soon enough. 

He forced himself to smile, carefully schooling his features to the affable façade he used specifically for putting people at ease. 

Like clockwork, the girl visibly relaxed. 

“Just the check please, sweetheart.”

Hunted Ch. 2: Dream A Little Dream Of Me

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58229851/chapters/148279471

[facefullofsadness]

psychopathic but it's okay

band!au (lsfm girlies but in a band and y/n is the 6th member)

guitarist!yunjin x bassist!y/n

prompt - you and yunjin are always arguing and after one argument, the latter has had it with you

content - smut (choking, degradation, overstimulation, slapping, handcuffs, cunnilingus, fingering, tribbing, multiple orgasms, jen kinda forces you into it), angst (harsh language, toxic, arguments, yelling), fluff if you squint hard

wc - 4405

author's note at the end :)

how many times just in this week have we argued already? I can't remember.

to say yunjin and I were toxic would be an understatement. it could be something wildly insignificant, but it wouldn't matter, we would be at each other's throats.

like last week when she told me to get the receipt for the takeout I ordered with kazuha and I forgot it. more like zuha did, but obviously, it was my fault because yunjin said it was.

and throughout this entire week we had been shouting at each other. any small inconvenience or misunderstanding, you name it, we argued about it. misplacing a hairbrush, accidentally eating someone's share, taking the wrong person's keys, showing up late to a meeting or practice. it was exhausting.

I can't even recall the last peaceful moment I had with this girl. it's been months of this dreadful and perpetual conflict that seemed to emerge out of nowhere, but it made me resent her in a way that I hated her guts.

I absolutely despise the way she thinks, her cocky attitude, her nonchalant responses, her dismissive demeanor, she drives me fucking insane.

which leads me to this moment, yelling at each other because she's playing ahead of the band.

"jen, play slower. you're fucking 2 seconds ahead of everyone else," I grumble, frustrated.

"oh whatever y/n, you try playing this shit. all you do is play the same bass line for 3 minutes straight," yunjin rolls her eyes back at me.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting it to escalate, especially with the members around, "just play slower."

somehow, we moved on and all continued to practice. but this asshole never fixed her timing issue.

"yunjin, play slower!" I interrupt our practice again to yell at the girl.

she snaps her head at me, "fuck you y/n! I'm literally trying."

"but you're not though? because how are you still fucking off beat when we've been practicing this shit for weeks?!"

"oh my god, give me a break. you're so stuck up, sorry if I don't practice till the break of dawn everyday like you do. unlike you, I actually have a life, I don't have time to be a bratty perfectionist like you."

out of the corner of my eye, I see our youngest eunchae start to wanna speak up, but our leader chaewon stopping her from trying. with that, all the girls leave the room quietly as my blood boils at the words the raven-haired girl is throwing at me.

"I'm fucking stuck up? imagine having a career, THE dream job, and not even trying. you act like I don't have a goddamn life either jen, it's not my fault that I'm not lazy like you are."

the taller girl slings the guitar off her shoulder and aggressively puts it down before stomping up to me.

"I don't wanna hear your bossy mouth utter another word about my work ethic bitch. you're only so fussy about this because you don't have anything else in your life to look forward to."

"your sorry excuses are no use anymore yunjin. stop acting like you're the best when you're no better than an amateur, you're literally only here because there was no one else."

"did you want that to sting? sorry princess but that only works if it's the truth, we both know you all need me here. without me, you're nothing."

I clutch the strap of my bass and swing it off my body, immediately grabbing the collar of yunjin's shirt and pushing her back into the keyboard piano, making the stand shake.

"listen to me and listen fucking well. I can make you leave the band and you can act like it doesn't matter to you but I know you'll be devastated. I know you're just a scared little girl, too intimidated by the outside world to actually quit. you may not be scared of me which is why you don't try, but I'm exhausted of you trying to have power over me when you're just a weak sorry bitch who your parents are ashamed to care for anymore."

I struck it where it hurts because not only did I not care about if she would loathe me for my words, but I wanted it to.

suddenly, I'm being manhandled until my back falls against the couch in our practice room, yunjin's weight pressing me down. my hands struggle to push her off and break free, but her stronger grip grabs both of my wrists and pins them above my head against the arm rest of the sofa.

"fuck off of me jen!" I yell at her, body wriggling under her own.

her free hand suddenly takes hold of my neck and squeezes, forcing my throat to let out a struggled squeak and breath.

"shut the fuck up whore! I'm so tired of your yapping!" the girl above me growls and tightens her hold on both my wrists and neck.

I look up at her with fear growing in my eyes, and I can see the pure rage on her face. I'm incapable of moving my arms and hands free of her iron grip, and it steadily gets harder to breathe as I feel her nails, though short, dig into my skin.

"you're insufferable. you think I'm a weak sorry bitch with no power over you, huh? let me remind you otherwise since you're too braindead to remember how strong I am."

yunjin's gaze is wild. the fire in her eyes has no sign of calming and the clench in her jaw as she lowers her face towards mine doesn't release any tension. but as she nears herself and comes unfathomably close, there's no denying the lust that clouds her dilated pupils.

as my breathing becomes impossible and I get lightheaded, my senses increase and I can hear my own heart pounding in my ears. I can also hear her shaky breath and feel it reach my face. her knee in between my thighs presses against my core and I release a choked whimper.

"I'm gonna treat you like my own sex toy and you're gonna want me to fuck your brains out after I lay waste to your body. you are gonna be my fuck doll and you're gonna love every second of it, you hear me? dirty little slut."

I'm simultaneously terrified of the intensity and escalation of the situation, but I'm also unbelievably horny at this point. the ache in between my legs grows hot and I feel it start to throb with the way her knee digs deeper into my core.

"I can't..." I manage to choke out, pleading with the darting of my eyes focusing on her face and between her intense glare.

yunjin eventually releases tension on my throat, and I can breathe again, oxygen slowly enabling itself to run through my lungs again. the lustful stare never wavers, however, and both of our gazes are fixed on each other's eyes.

"I don't care if you can't take it, I'm gonna make you."

with that, she moves her hand, once choking my neck, and grasps around it, fingers clutching my nape, her head diving in to begin leaving sloppy kisses trailing my jaw downwards. the pressure on my airways is gone, but my breath still stops in my throat as her mouth kisses, sucks, and bites harshly at my neck.

"w-wait... don't do t-that..." I stutter, telling her to slow down or stop.

"shut the fuck up." she growls aggressively against my ear, "I'm gonna have you however I want."

there's no room for protest as I feel the hand on my neck trail down my collarbone and between my breasts, her finger circling around my right boob and going inwards, finally pinching the nipple at the middle.

"nghh.." the noise in my throat releases on its own.

"my little slut, so easy to use. why else wouldn't you wear a bra under such a mesh shirt? you wanted this so bad, didn't you?"

the treatment of my boobs and nipples harshens as she's suddenly slapping her hand against them, watching as they jiggle under my thin shirt. I yelp out in pain, still feeling my core rush with wetness.

"you're wearing too much," yunjin scoffs.

her hand pops open all the buttons of my shirt and fingers return to harassing my hard buds. my body struggles under her again as her tongue drags along my neck and across my collarbone, the sharp bites of her teeth occasionally making me tug at the harsh grip at my wrists again.

the noises of her mouth on my skin are so wet, I can even hear her heavy breathing and small moans escape, intensifying the pleasure building in my lower stomach. I can't help but release a deep groan at one of my abused nipples being enveloped by her needy mouth.

"f-fuck.. no, s-stop- ahhhh..." I try to get out.

my words are drowned out by the sounds of my whimpers growing louder and the slurping of my tit in her mouth. my eyes struggle to keep open, watching her tongue flick around my bud, yunjin switching to my other boob, repeating everything all the same.

"can you stop moving? god, I'm doing something here and your flailing is infuriating." she let's out a frustrated huff before detaching completely from my body, reaching for something underneath the couch.

my hands are free for a second before I feel cold steel capture my wrists, cuffing them together and securing them on a pipe against the wall.

"so much better." she states satisfied before bringing both her hands to slap both of the sides of my boobs.

I let out an unstable shout at the stinging pain that followed, and it only continued as she grasped at my chest with both hands and kneads at them needily.

"jen... please, ahhh.." I whimper out.

"huh? what was that y/n? you need to speak up for me." she continues her abuse on my tits as my eyes water.

"it hurts..." I manage.

"oh is that so? too bad I don't really care. after all, if I were weak, it wouldn't hurt so much right?" yunjin says in a mocking tone.

her hands become aggressive, dragging themselves down my body and grasping hard at my waist, squeezing my thighs, before landing a harsh slap on my ass, one side, then the next.

"yunjin ah! please! fuck, it hurts..."

"a powerless little girl like me shouldn't be able to harm you, right y/n-ie?"

fuck you huh yunjin.

my eyes are still squeezed shut as I feel her start to unbuckle my pants and zip them down, taking my jeans off of me. my core is absolutely throbbing with desire, panties soaked.

she places a finger at the hem of my underwear, dragging the digit down, trailing my mound, to my aching clit, through my leaking entrance, then pinching the material and letting it snap back into place, warranting a shiver down my spine at the feeling.

"I should've known a whore like you would be drenched after all that. you kick and whine about how much it hurts but look at how much you fucking love it."

it's hard to argue with her when the anticipation to feel her relieve my desire grows stronger the more she messes with me.

"don't worry darling, I'll ruin you perfectly."

I feel my panties get pushed to the side before a hot and wet muscle is felt at the base of my entrance trailing up slowly, until there's a hard suck at my bundle of nerves.

"fuckkkkk ahhhh!!!" I let out an involuntary scream at the feeling.

god it feels so good, my eyes squeezed shut as her onslaught of eating me out continues, hard and fast. she bends my knees and forces my legs apart, holding my thighs so she has free reign of my pussy.

"mmm, it's in the way," I hear her mumble before a loud tear is heard, assumedly from my panties.

I could care less when she sucks hard with her mouth over both my clit and hole, tongue darting between circling my bundle of nerves and digging into my pussy. I tug hard at my restraints, wanting so badly to grasp her luscious dark hair and push her into me.

my hips move on their own, trying to grind against her mouth, but they fail when yunjin's hands push my thighs apart again and she wraps her arms around them, hands on my waist. I force my eyes open and look down at her, what a sight.

her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful. so unlike the rapid and desperate licking, sucking, and moaning coming out of her sinful mouth. the grip on my waist is firm but so gentle, her thumbs rubbing softly against my skin. she only takes a hand off of my waist to run fingers through her hair, pushing it back to have all the room she needs to indulge in my waterfall. yunjin definitely craved this more than me.

moans continued to slip out of my mouth, fueling her on.

"you're so delicious, this pussy is mine," I feel her mumble against my lips though still audible.

"fuck me jen, more more more, ahhh, yes, keep going just like that, oh my god!!!"

I was about to shut my eyes again until she looked up at me. through half lidded eyes, it almost looked like they were completely black, pupils so blown it was hard to tell if she was human. the desire was so fiery in her eyes and looking up at me only drew her in further, digging her face into my pussy.

her tongue dug impossibly deep into my hole, flicking wildly inside of me, making me arch my back in immense pleasure. her nose rubbing against my hot clit contributed to the build up of my impending climax.

the hold on my waist tightened, securing my hips down to the sofa, her eyes closed again as I shut my own as well, the noises coming from a mixture of my leaking pussy and her lewd slurping were indescribably orgasmic, the desperate moaning slipping from both of our mouths were borderline embarrassing if it weren't for our soundproof walls covering the sounds of sin.

"jennifer oh my god fuck fuck please, shit. b-baby... I'm, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum sosososo hard..." I rambled.

I heard as I continued to incoherently mumble anything that came to mind as I felt her grip on my waist start to hurt, nails digging into my skin, making my lower half impossible to move.

"give me your cum now, let me drink you," yunjin says with the sexiest most raspy voice I've heard from her.

a low moan from deep in her throat against my pussy vibrates against my clit, her tongue thrusting into my hole repeatedly at insane speeds. it was so overwhelming and more than enough to launch me over the edge.

my vision disappeared, my body shook viscerally, my mouth fell open and loud screaming came out of it as I orgasmed with so much pleasure. I felt my pussy gush cum into yunjin's expectant mouth, her tongue continuing to flail in me. I struggle hard against the restraints still, feeling my wrists sting with every tug. I can't think straight, my body shaking with every wave of pleasure that runs through me.

I fall limp, my head shaking left to right and mumbles coming out of my mouth. yunjin calms her pace and gives kitten licks up and down my slit, lapping up any other juices I released that she missed. her grip on my waist loosens, and they caress my sides carefully. she makes her way up to meet my face, planting abnormally soft kisses in her wake, her hands softly caressing my red skin. all the slap markings, all the bites, all the hickies, all the nail marks, spots red, spots bloody, her touch eases the pain.

"y/n..." she whispers against my ear, making me shiver.

I can't even open my eyes as the exhaustion hits me hard. I hear her mess with the pipe and cuffs around my wrists before I feel my hands fall against the arm rest again, freeing my arms finally. yunjin picks both of them up and places gentle pecks all around both wrists, slowly spreading her comfort across my entire body.

"jen..." a croak somehow comes out of my mouth.

"baby..." her voice, gentle...

"are you okay angel?" she whispers loud enough for me to hear.

my heart stops beating but resumes at the speed of sound after a moment.

I can't respond, and so she comes closer to my face and cups my cheek with a careful hand, intently observing my expression and condition. I feel her thumb softly caress my bottom lip and her stare fall onto my slightly open mouth.

"I.. I'm..." I can't form another word as the exhaustion catches up and my eyes fall shut.

every other sense of mine is alert, I'm still fully conscious, but my eyes refuse to open, they simply can't. I feel yunjin come closer to me then suddenly small kisses tracing my jaw, lips against my ear.

"you can rest y/n-ie, I'll do the rest."

wait, what?

her hand that was once on my face trails down my body, tracing over all the marks again, before her slender fingers slip between my folds, causing my entire body to jolt.

"jen?!" I shriek out, my hands flying to grip her arms.

"shhh, just relax. I told you already, you're just my little sex toy, I need to get my usage out of you."

fuck, I should've known she was feigning generosity.

I had no time to respond as after gathering enough of my cum from my last orgasm, yunjin swiftly slips two fingers into my tired cunt.

"FUCK!" I scream out.

my body reacts on its own, shaking against her warm body leaning against me.

"you've got another one in you, don't you?"

her pace picks up quickly, my pussy burning at the speed. suddenly, her thumb rubs harshly against my overstimulated clit, causing me to cry out.

"t-too much! please!" I sob into her shoulder.

yunjin's body hovers over mine, holding me close. one of my hands gripping her arm pumping in and out of me, the other clutching the back of her shirt, my face wet with tears flowing in her shoulder, melting into her neck.

"you should've thought about that before you talked shit huh?"

"I- I can't!"

"I already told you I don't fucking care y/n, how many times do I have to say it?"

I feel my own tears stain the taller girl's shirt as her fingers ram into my abused hole over and over again, pulling out all the way just to slam back into me again. I scream intensely when a third finger is added, immediately hitting that euphoric spot inside.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I chant between every pump of her swift fingers.

"you truly make the perfect little cum slut don't you?"

"jen, ah, ah, ah, please, fuck..."

"what is it baby? feel it coming again?"

I moan out an incomprehensible 'yes' in response, to which I feel yunjin smile against my forehead, planting a sweet peck.

"beg me angel, beg me to keep fucking you until you cum."

my eyes roll back into my head, tears still spilling out and hands gripping for dear life. even if I wanted to beg, I don't think I'm physically capable.

her fingers still inside of me, stopping her movement on my pussy entirely, even on my clit. I whine loudly in response, legs shaking and grip tightening on her.

"no no please yunjin, I- I need you, I need you to keep fucking me. I need to finish, I need your fingers, I'm so close jinny, please please, god please let me cum. I can't, I can't take it, it hurts, it hurts so bad, jen oh god please, don't fucking stop. I need you to keep going, please don't stop now, please please jen-"

my rambling is interrupted by her fingers pounding into my cunt once again, with impossible speed, making my throat strain with another uncontrollable scream of pleasure.

"let it go, give it to me y/n. I want to feel it gush around me again, I need to feel your body fall apart."

and just as quickly as it started, it ended. an explosion of euphoria ripples through me again, I feel goosebumps form on my skin as I moan deafeningly, my fingers sinking into yunjin's body and holding on for dear life. her fingers continue to get sucked into me, clenching hard onto her long digits as she rubs my clit still.

"yes, that's my girl, give it all to me."

my body is shaking, with every subtle touch yunjin does to me, it reacts. my mouth stays open as I can feel the saliva drool out, my eyes barely open but it's no use, it's not like I can see anything clearly.

"your body is just meant for this y/n, I was right. my perfect little angel, the best fuck doll for me."

her fingers slip out of me and I grunt at the loss of fullness. out of the very small field of view I have, I watch as she sucks the juices off her fingers, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor, licking up each of them one by one.

"you're doing so well, but baby..." she leans in and mumbles against my lips, "give me one more."

there's no room for resistance as she moves to get into position. what a menace huh yunjin is. she already knows I'm fucked out of my mind that I'm physically incapable of doing anything. I've always been really sensitive and she's using that weakness against me ten fold.

I try my best to pay attention to what she's doing, watching as she slides her shorts and panties down her legs, the two articles of clothing absolutely soaked. she gets on top of me again and lifts one of my legs up, wrapping it around her waist, her straddling my pussy with her own, interlocking our legs.

"it's finally my turn. fuckkk..."

she moans out as she starts to grind her pussy against mine. every thrust makes my body jolt with overstimulation, I don't know how to take it anymore.

however, watching huh yunjin roll her hips against me, her hands placing my own on her waist, watching as she throws her head back and sweat drips down her long neck, my pleasure grows again. the woman looks ethereal riding me, using my body to get off, it's unreal how delectable watching her fuck me is.

"f-faster, h-harder, jen..." both of us look surprised when I manage to speak.

a sinister smirk crawls and spreads across the aforementioned woman's face, hands on my thighs tapping in approval, "of course darling, who am I to deny?"

and so she fucks me harder, so much harder. so much fucking faster. I immediately see stars and the squelching lewd noises of our sopping cunts fill my ears, accompanied by the pornographic moans from both of us. I feel the rhythmic pattern of yunjin's hips rolling against me with my hands on her waist.

I pull her forward against me, thrusting my own hips up into her, gaining leverage and screaming out in pleasure as our clits bump repeatedly because of this.

"fuck y/n! you're so good at this, don't... don't you dare give out on me right now, you feel too fucking incredible."

the girl above me has her head down facing my own, eyes screwed shut, face scrunched up looking focused, mouth hanging open. one of my hands feel up her body, trailing up her covered front and grazing her nipples, eliciting a groan to come from her throat. my hand cups her cheek and pulls her closer to my face, making her open her eyes and make eye contact with me.

we stare straight into each others' eyes, observing the expressions on our faces, memorizing the view forever. I hate this girl so much, I hate her with my entire being, but she's beautiful, she's goddess-like, and she's absolutely perfect in my trembling hands, looking into my eyes like I'm the only one in her world.

yunjin leans in to finally kiss me, plump and soft lips roughly clashing against my own. I desperately chase to reciprocate the passion she pushes into my mouth, forcing my tongue into her and ramming it down her throat, making her moan out. her mouth feels like heaven on earth as I melt into her delicious strawberry flavored lips, tongue and her saliva tasting like all the cum she sucked out of my cunt just moments prior.

her thrusts become sloppy and I feel my hole start to clench around nothing as we moan into each others' mouth.

"cum with me love, cum with me, please baby, I need you." her voice shaky and sounding vulnerable.

I open my eyes one last time to look up at her, eyes getting watery too. I take her bottom lip into my mouth and pull away with my teeth, letting it go with a pop.

"I'm cumming love, I'm cumming..." I warn her.

I pull her into me and hug her, embracing her tightly as she painfully grips my thighs, stilling her hips and feeling her warmth leak all over my pussy. I moan along with her, screaming out in blinding pleasure, my heat flooding both of our thighs and running down my legs, onto the couch under.

she collapses on top of me, her entire body weight covering me completely. I snuggle my face into her neck, placing soft kisses around every area I could reach.

"are you okay?" I ask softly into her ear.

I'm met with no response but soft breathing near my ear. I peer over to look at her face and she's out cold.

I giggle softly at the gorgeous woman sprawled out on top of me, legs intertwined, cum running down our legs, her lips bruised and red.

"I think I won this argument jennifer."

a/n - i'm just realizing that this barely had any actual band dynamics or anything and that makes me sad bc i love that shit so much. sob, oh well maybe another time (part???). my first idea for this concept was slow down by chase atlantic but then i switched it bc i feel like i could write a better plot for the lyric i orginally chose so stay tuned mayhaps in the future. anyways, hiiiii first post pls don't bully me tumblr is foreign land to me but writing is not though I haven't written in months 😙 enjoy first fic w my actual gf (like actually fr fr huh yunjin is my gf she proofread this-)

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* The Wishing Hole (Yandere x GN!Reader)

Warning!! This is not a romance, read at your own risk CW: LONG, Dead Dove, abuse, murder, trauma, manipulation, masturbation, mutilation, unhealthy relationships, obsession

"Have you heard about the hole?"

Part I

"It's right over here!" Miranda theater-whispered to her friends as she led them through the black woods. Their flashlights bobbed in the darkness, the only light visible to the trio of twelve year olds as they trekked through the thicket. (Reader) gripped onto their envelope tightly, fearful of leaving sweat marks on it.

They had been staying the night at Brian's house when Miranda brought up the hole. A local urban legend by that point, the story of a hole that granted wishes. Brian had chastised Miranda for believing a story so stupid, but still followed her and (Reader) when they snuck out to grant their wishes.

"How do you know where it is?" He nervously hissed.

"Abby's sister Rebecca has a friend who found it. Over here." Miranda spoke as though it should have been obvious why she knew where it was.

(Reader) could do nothing but hope. They hoped hard, over and over again, wrinkling the papers in their fist as the yellow light led them to their future. All they could do was beg the universe to grant their wish. For the hole to be real.

The trees thinned and opened, revealing a small clearing with a very deep hole dug out of the earth. It was a normal looking hole, but in the dark of a moonless night to a group of children, it was ominous.

Their muddy boots all stopped a good foot away from the edge. The ground didn't look stable.

After taking a shaky breath, Miranda threw her envelope into the hole, squeezing her eyes shut as she focused all her energy on the wish written inside the letter she tossed. Brian thought about arguing, calling out his friends for littering, but instead copied Miranda, throwing his wish in as well. (Reader) felt adrenaline shoot to their finger tips as the anxiety tried to rip through their veins and escape their skin. Their packet was thicker than either of their friends', and fell harder as they chucked it in with all their strength.

The only future (Reader) wanted was nearly impossible. It would take divine intervention to get that happiness. "What did you wish for?" Miranda asked Brian behind (Reader).

"I want to know what I want to do."

"That's it?"

"What'd you wish for?"

"A hot boyfriend, who's gonna love me, and marry me."

"Well, when you're trapped in a marriage with three kids, I'll be doing what I love every day."

Miranda groaned loudly, refusing to get into another argument with her best friend. She instead looked at (Reader) who was still focusing on the hole. "What did you wish for, (Reader)?"

Their eyes seemed to be seeing something the other two couldn't see. Large pupils fixated on nothing, still filled with enough anxiety to cripple an adult.

"Someone who loves me.."

"Ugh, not you too.." Brian's voice melted into the background, almost unintelligible in the dense air. The contents of the wish filled (Reader's) head to the point that nothing else could be heard.

• 15 years later •

Another failed date.

Dark rings permanently decorated the underneath of (Reader's) tired eyes. The perpetually single adult slid down against the wall, too exhausted to continue standing. There was nothing particularly wrong with the guy, but he just wasn't "the one" for (Reader). He was boring and awkward, rambling about his job and future plans, bragging about his hypothetical future fortune. Nothing he did was bad enough for (Reader) to guiltlessly label him a douche, but nothing about him was their type.

They pulled out their phone, looking at the dark haired man on their wallpaper for a second too long before opening up their messages with their date. (Reader) typed up a quick message to thank Rich for the date, but that they didn't see it going any further.

The phone was tossed to the side as (Reader) struggled to stand, grabbing a beer from their fridge as the phone began chiming from the linoleum. Texts rapidly coming in were ignored by (Reader) as they cracked open their first drink for the night.

His unread messages echoed through (Reader's) shoebox apartment.

The weary adult wondered how their therapist would react next week at their appointment. It wasn't realistic for an adult to fixate on a wish they had made as a child, but just like all those years ago, (Reader) knew deep in their bones that there was no happiness for them if they couldn't have that wish come true. Rich was attractive, in an average sort of way, with straight brown hair cut a little too short for the shape of his brow. He had nice lips, (Reader) thought, but couldn't imagine kissing them.

The beer tasted like lightly bitter water. Not a promising sign; it tasted like they would need something stronger. On the way to the living room (Reader) noticed their bedroom door had some dirt on the white paint, like someone had pushed it open with filthy hands.

(Reader) felt an anxious jolt to their system. A familiar pain they hadn't felt in a long time. They pushed open the door, timidly entering their own room like a stranger nervous to be caught. But the room was empty.

"So, how'd your date with Rich go?" Adam asked hopefully. The same trio of friends since primary school sat in their local diner. It was a monthly ritual, gathering for brunch to force themselves to keep in touch. They tried to hold the meeting every week, but with work scheduling it was impossible. Adam sat with his husband, Jon, across from Brian and (Reader). Everyone had changed so much as they got older, but that was to be expected. No one can stay a child forever.

(Reader) sighed before sipping on their milkshake. Adam knew exactly what that meant, and groaned, just as dramatically as when he was a child. His hair may be shorter, but some things stayed consistent.

"What was wrong with this guy?"

"Nothing!" (Reader) replied defensively. "He just... wasn't my type."

Brian pushed up his glasses. "Maybe you should lower your standards."

"Brian!"

"-I mean, it's good to have standards, obviously, but people are real people, not characters in a book. No one is going to match your description of a perfect partner, because people aren't perfect, ya know?"

(Reader) stole a glance at their phone, admiring the black haired man behind the time. "You can say that, because your wish already came true. Both of yours."

Both Brian and Adam looked ashamed and a little uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact and fixating on their meals. Jon almost went cross-eyed trying to understand what (Reader) was implying.

(Reader) stood, tossing a couple bills onto the table. "I have to go, I'll talk to you guys later."

"Okay, have a good day! Text me when you get home." Adam said warmly, hugging his dear friend tightly while trying to shape his face into a happier expression.

"I will. Bye."

Brian gave up a small side hug, grimacing.

Jon waited until (Reader) was out of sight before asking "Were they talking about that wish you guys made as kids?"

The bespectacled young man rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Yes."

"I know what Adam wished for, but what did you and (Reader) wish for?" When he mentioned Adam's wish, Adam rolled his eyes playfully and they nudged each other lightly. Their whole relationship was practically diabetic for Brian, who still after all these years didn't get the appeal in romance.

Brian adjusted his glasses again, clearing his throat. "I wanted to know what to do with my life." And he had found that calling. The summer before high school he discovered a YouTube channel centered around ornithology and sent him on a strange spiral of bird mania. His friends and family thought it was a temporary fixation that he would lose interest in after a year or so, but his newfound fascination guided him all the way through college, landing him in an animal husbandry profession taking care of cranes at (what Brian considered to be) a humane zoo. "(Reader) wished for someone to love them."

"Well, I believe there's someone for everyone. It takes some people longer to find 'the one' than it does for others, and (Reader) seems like a great person, so I'm sure they'll meet someone that fits their childhood ideal."

Although Jon meant well with his words he could see the discomfort on his husband's and Brian's faces, their eyes either focused on their drink or plate.

They never read (Reader's) wish.

But over the years the two friends had begun to piece together a picture of the kind of man (Reader) wanted.

It was a complete breach of trust, looking into a friend's past, going full internet stalker mode to investigate into the secrets (Reader) wouldn't divulge. And what they found...

Was a lot.

They didn't know how to open the conversation with their third musketeer, since the facts and speculations were all obtained without (Reader's) knowledge or permission, but if Brian and Adam were correct in their understanding of what (Reader's) wish was, they genuinely wanted to help (Reader).

They also knew where (Reader) was going. But even that was impossible to confess.

Because at that moment, (Reader) was in their car for their monthly four hour visit with the greatest man (Reader) had ever known. It was unfortunate scheduling, but (Reader) couldn't compromise the day for either party. Keeping in contact with their friends was important for their mental health (according to their therapist) but this meeting was more important to (Reader) than practically anything else in their life.

Metal fencing and high beige walls appeared through the trees like a fairy tale castle. Instead of an evil dragon guarding the entrance, however, there were armed guards. Still every bit of evil in (Reader's) eyes.

"Welcome back, Mx. (Reader)." The usual security officer greeted grimly. Before he could ask for identification, (Reader) already had it out. Although they had met many times throughout the past decade, it was still a formality required by law. The two filled out the necessary paperwork while only offering tight smiles. He opened the gate for (Reader) to drive in and park in the visitor's lot. (Reader) always felt the cameras on them whenever they entered this "castle".

Officers emptied (Reader's) pockets and scanned their body for metal. There would be no physical connection at all, but they still needed to take precautions.

(Reader) was led through the lifeless grey halls towards visitation. Each step made their heart race and fostered the smile on their lips. Approaching the room with squeaky broken stools and bulletproof glass relaxed their faux grin for a genuine tranquility. There were no other visitors at the time.

The stool creaked under (Reader) as they gently eased into the old thing, staring at the window. Shortly after they sat down, the man from their phone's wallpaper, now with more silver hair than black, shuffled in on the other side, smiling softly as he sat across from (Reader). They both grabbed the phones.

"Hi Dad."

His dark eyes with pupils so large that without direct light made them look black had deeply etched wrinkles decorating them that folded deeper as he smiled. When Donavon McElroy was arrested, the news outlets focused on his eyes like some kind of Kubrick film, fixating on how you could just see the evil in some people. It felt as though the only person in the entire country who could see how loving Donavon's eyes were was (Reader).

"Hey kiddo. I've missed you."

"I missed you too." There were only four hours of visitation allowed per month. "Have you been getting my letters?"

Greasy ringlets of hair tumbled to the side as he cocked his head. "They're still the highlight of each week." Donavon didn't blink often. Even though the lights always hurt his eyes, no matter how dim they were, he seemed like a mannequin, refusing to blink and miss a second of his precious child's face. "How have you been since our last visit? I know you said in your letters that you're still going to therapy, which is good, very good.. how's that going for you?"

(Reader) felt their smile dip a little. "Well, it's going. I don't really like my therapist, but I know it's just because I don't like what she has to say. Even if I change doctors, they'll still say the same things."

Donavon nodded understandingly. It was like that at first for him as well, receiving psychiatric treatment while in prison. "I didn't like being told that my line of thinking was.. wrong. I knew that logically my thinking was, of course, obviously wrong, but it didn't feel wrong, so having a.. professional tell me that was upsetting."

"But it's important that you continue with it. And I'm very proud of you for continuing with it."

(Reader) laughed. It was a sharp scoff of a laugh, but not spiteful. It filled their chest with hot lava to hear someone praise them for doing what they've been doing since they were ten years old. Because it was difficult. Even if (Reader) continuously told themselves that this was the bare minimum. It was still difficult.

"She has me out in the dating world." (Reader) slumped a little, only slightly enough that no one but Donavon could tell the change in their posture. "Which is.. not fun."

"It can be fun. Does that carnival still come? There used to be a traveling carnival, a pop up fair, that would set up in a parking lot of a small store in our home town, really cheap. That could be a fun first date. Tiny ferris wheel and gravitron. Elephant ears." The two adults smiled widely thinking about it, but neither of them were picturing it as a date. His smile melted when he realized this. "I wish I could have taken you there."

(Reader) imagined a different life, one where they were in his care instead of their mother's, eating pastries the size of their head and getting sick on possibly dangerous attractions in a small parking lot. Their mother never took them, but they knew which pop up fair he was talking about, riding past it on the bus many times in their life. "That sounds like it would have been fun.."

".. but like I said, dating can be fun. As long as your being safe." (Reader's) dad's smile bounced back. "What have you done so far that hasn't been fun?"

"Well, I went out for dinner. Guy named Rich. He was, uh, decent. Talked a lot. Mostly about his job, and goals."

"Sounds career focused, that's good."

"Eh.." They shrugged, eyes drifting.

"What was wrong with him?"

(Reader) sighed. "Nothing. He was.. competent. Seemed like a regular guy. He just.. wasn't my type."

Guilt began to crawl through the folds of Donavon's brain like bugs infesting his conscious. He knew it was all his fault. Everything. But if he said that out loud, (Reader) would deny it, argue and fight it. "Well, there are plenty of fish in the sea."

"There's also plenty of trash."

Donavon pointed a finger at his kid warningly. "There's also sunken treasure. Don't give up hope."

"I don't need someone to be happy.."

"That's true.. but something tells me that when you weren't actively dating around, you weren't being content with the single life, and that's why your therapist is having you go out there. That.. maybe you were still waiting around for something that you shouldn't have, instead of living life to the fullest while alone."

The two became uncomfortably silent. This happened nearly every month. "I just want someone who loves me."

Donavon swore he could cry at that moment. "I'm sorry for-"

"Don't apologize." (Reader) cut him off. "Don't apologize for being a great dad."

"I wasn't. I wasn't a great dad. I'm-"

"-don't-"

"-a monster, (Reader). Kiddo, please, just listen to me. I'm sorry for the things I've done. The way I went about.. I wasn't in my right mind.. what I put you through was not okay. It was not, and will never be okay." He leaned forward, wishing to break through the glass dividing them and hug his kid. "I'm so sorry."

(Reader) softly responded "You're the only person who ever loved me."

"And you deserve better than that."

'No', (Reader) thought, 'there is no better than that.'

"Let's change the subject, please." (Reader) closed their eyes, forcing away the tears. "We never have enough time, and I don't want to spend the entire day focusing on sad shit."

Donavon took a shaky breath. "Okay, kiddo.." he mulled over for a second what to talk about before cracking a smile, one wide enough to show off his missing canine. "Remember Eddy?"

"Your old bunk mate?"

"Yep."

"What about him?"

"He got stabbed."

The sentence was so short and sudden that it shocked (Reader) into snorting, bringing back their genuine smile. "What? When? What happened?"

From the door an older guard smiled sadly, away from view. Donavon was liked by nearly everyone, both by the guards and the other prisoners. It was always a shame, getting to know someone who was supposed to be an evil bastard, and learning that they were just a great man who needed help. Plenty of the older guards understood that (Reader) would forever look at them with disgust and mildly veiled hatred. Because Donavon was (Reader's) hero, and the guards were just wardens unjustly holding him captive.

Their conversation continued without pause, filling the empty room with sounds of parental love and warmth. The guard at the door loved being there whenever it was time for (Reader's) visit with their dad, because it really was an incredibly beautiful and emotional scene every time he was present, but he also hated being the one on duty whenever (Reader) came, because he had to be the villain to say "Time's up" when their four hours were over.

"Mx. (Reader). Donavon."

(Reader's) eyes drooped, darkening under the shadow of their eyelashes. "Already?"

"Unfortunately."

The guard had been there so long, he remembered when (Reader) was a child, and would cry and scream whenever it was time to leave, begging him to let their daddy out.

Donavon smiled comfortingly. "Thank you for visiting me, kiddo."

"Of course."

"Maybe in another decade they'll let me have physical contact visitation." Donavon chuckled, only half serious with his hopeful statement. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too. Don't forget to write."

"I never do."

They both stood up, hanging up their phones painfully. It was the worst time of the day. His chains shook around his wrists as he waved goodbye. He never hurt a single guard in his time incarcerated, but it was a formality, a requirement, due to the nature of his crime. It didn't seem to matter how good his behavior was. Even though the guards trusted him, according to the law Donovan was still to be treated as a monster.

After being guided back out of the room, through the halls, and out to the parking lot, (Reader) finally felt like they could breathe. The air that was stolen when the guard ended their visit with their dad was greedily sucked up outside the stifling building. They finally looked at their silent phone, seeing a dozen messages from Rich. Or, who's number (Reader) assumed was Rich, since they had deleted his contact as soon as they woke up that morning.

Most of the texts were pleas for a second date, or an explanation for what he did wrong. Some of them were insults.

(Reader) sighed, deleting the conversation and blocking his number before getting into their car, allowing tears to silently fall down their warm cheeks. All that they wished for was for someone to love them, and no one would ever love them like their dad did.

The drive back was just as miserable as it was every month.

And just like every month, the tears didn't stop until (Reader) pulled up to their apartment. It was a long day, where the good moments weren't long enough, and (Reader) was ready for another beer. It wasn't Sunday, but it was their Sunday, which meant that they couldn't stay up drinking all night.

But it felt as though they had just popped open their can when someone started pounding on their door, angrily and frantically. (Reader) cursed not being able to afford to live in an apartment that had a controlled door to the building, living in a cheap one that had the stairs on the outside of the building. Which meant that there were no security measures to prevent just anyone from coming straight to (Reader's) unit.

They set the alcohol to the side and made their way to the door. The banging only stopped when the person on the other side heard (Reader) unlocking the deadbolt. A slightly sweaty man with brown hair too short to be messy stood impatiently.

"Rich?"

The slightly younger man shrugged sharply, jutting his head to the side with an attitude as if to say 'No shit, who else?'

"Are you going to let me in?" He asked impatiently.

"Uh, no?" (Reader) furrowed their brow. "How'd you find where I live?" They were too confused to even be mad or scared.

"It wasn't difficult; literally everything is online." Rich responded as though (Reader) was a fucking idiot for even asking. The disrespect was shocking, a severe shift from how he acted during their date. He shifted abruptly as though he was going to charge (Reader), so they tightened their muscles, holding the door closer to their side, which earned an aggravated huff.

"What are you doing here, Rich?"

"Well, you owe me an explanation after you ghosted me after our date the other day." His tone made it sound so obvious.

(Reader) scoffed, almost amused. "No I fucking don't."

"I was the perfect gentleman on our date considering the circumstances, you and I had a good time, but then you ghosted me? And I just want to know why." The emphasis on the 'considering the circumstances' included a wave, motioning to (Reader's) body. (Reader) didn't know if he was insinuating that their body was a problem, or if it was their gender expression, or if he just had high fashion expectations that (Reader) didn't live up to, but the little hand movement finally ticked them off.

"Okay, you're done." (Reader) tried to close the door, but Rich was stronger than he looked, and effortlessly pushed them back into their apartment and entered. (Reader) didn't fall, only stumbled, wobbling to regain balance as Rich casually closed the door behind him, pacing his hands on his hips.

"So, what did I do wrong?"

"You mean before you broke into my home?"

"I did- don't be fucking dramatic, I did not break in. I just want to know, I just want to know what I did wrong."

(Reader) slowly backed up, mentally picturing the apartment behind them to figure out where their closest form of defense was. "Nothing. It just didn't work out-"

"BULL SHIT."

"-you weren't my type."

Rich stuck out his jaw, clicking his tongue. "That isn't a reason."

"Yes, it is-"

"That isn't a reason to be a fucking dick."

'How far behind me is my knife block?'

Before (Reader) could make a move their front door violently flew open again, slamming loudly into the wall. Both Rich and (Reader) whipped around at the jarring noise.

A man stood in the doorway.

His skin was so caked in dirt and muck that his yellowish skin was almost completely painted over. Long, black hair curled due to the oil, hanging down and sticking to his gaunt face. Between the shaggy locks black eyes glared unblinkingly.

"Who the fuck is that?!" Rich nearly hollered, retreating closer to (Reader) out of fear, unable to tear his eyes away from the modified weapon in the intruder's hand.

Warmth spread throughout (Reader's) entire body; the god of love releasing a cage of butterflies into their body.

"He's here to kill me."

Part 0

Eight year old (Reader) tugged on their oversized long sleeve shirt. It was rubbing against the bruises uncomfortably. Everything about their body felt uncomfortable lately.

Their mother was late again.

Mr. Haley sighed loudly for the umpteenth time, looking at his watch as though it was (Reader's) fault their mother hadn't picked them up yet. It was warm and humid, and the sleeves of (Reader's) shirt were sticking to their arms. Despite the heat, Mr. Haley wouldn't allow (Reader) to wait inside, instead standing at the entrance of the school under a tree. (Reader) was the last child at pickup, aside from the children outside on the field for after school sports.

"Is your mom working late again?"

(Reader) didn't answer, instead watching the man walking into the nearly empty parking lot who seemed to be staring at (Reader) and their teacher. They couldn't tell exactly from how far away he was, but he didn't get any closer, keeping to the entrance, partially hidden behind a sign.

"Do you have anyone else I can call? Grandparents?" His kind voice was strained, exhaustion melting his patience.

The man suddenly ducked away from view, and shortly after (Reader's) frazzled mother sped walked into the lot, storming closer to the building. (Reader) left to meet her half way in an attempt to calm her down, but their teacher followed.

"Good afternoon, Ms. (Name)-"

"(Reader), c'mon." As soon as (Reader's) mother was close enough she immediately spun on her heel to leave again, ignoring the teacher.

"Ms. (Name), this is the third time-"

"I know!" The woman snapped, stopping abruptly, causing (Reader) to bump into her side. "I'm sorry."

"-the third time this month."

"I said I know!" She whined, throwing up her hands. "I couldn't get out of work, it wasn't that long!"

"After school activities are almost over. It's been almost an hour-"

"Don't be a dick, okay, I'm twenty minutes late."

"School ended forty minutes ago."

She crossed her arms. "So not an hour."

"Almost an hour-"

"So not an hour."

Mr. Haley sighed in defeat. He tried again, however, he was interrupted by the woman grabbing (Reader) by the arm and dragging them out of the parking lot. Her nails dug into the scabs on (Reader's) arm.

She spat out curses towards the teacher as she dragged her kid down the road towards the bus stop.

"Fucking asshole- and I told you that I was working late!" She turned her frustrations on (Reader), squeezing their arm painfully before releasing them, making (Reader) lose their balance.

"I'm sorry, Mom.." (Reader) quietly apologized, already shrinking in on themselves, head hunching into their tiny shoulders.

"Jesus, stop flinching like that. You look like I beat you or something.."

It was true, she never hit (Reader).

She just grabbed them.

Grabbed them by the back of the shirt, the front of their collar, the arms, wrists, and all parents smack their kids on the back of their heads, that's not hitting. It wasn't her fault that (Reader) bruised so easily. She didn't even hit them.

The city bus pulled up to the stop.

"Kevin's coming over for date night, so when we get home, make sure to do all your homework in your room. I'll bring you dinner and some snacks, but the adults need some alone time, okay?"

"Okay?"

"Okay!" (Reader) loudly responded, wringing their shirt in frustration.

(Reader) liked their mom when they had popcorn nights, when they made a bowl of popcorn and sat down to watch a rented movie together. But most of the time? (Reader) hated their mother.

They hated the way she dismissed them. (Reader) never seemed to be a priority in the woman's life. It didn't even feel like she hated (Reader). (Reader) was just nothing. They didn't receive hugs when they were scared, didn't get kisses when they were sick. And it wasn't one of those cases where you can't remember a single good memory because you're mad; (Reader) couldn't recall a single time their mother ever said the words 'I love you' to them.

She said it to Kevin though.

When they arrived home, (Reader) immediately went to their room, closing the door and flopping onto their mattress on the floor. They didn't feel like doing their homework, and decided instead on a quick nap. It wasn't like their mother was going to check in on them and see how they were doing anyway.

Maybe their dreams would bring a nice family for them.

CRASH!

A loud smash of glass and something heavy falling onto the thin apartment floor woke (Reader) up. They didn't know how long they were out for, but the sun was still up. (Reader) nervously bolted off the mattress and onto their feet, teetering in the middle of the room.

There was a quiet choking sound that liquefied into a gurgle before silencing.

(Reader's) handle slowly turned and their door was softly opened. A terrified looking man drenched in blood stood in front of (Reader), gazing down at them with inhuman eyes. His eyes were wide, panicked, but glassy, red, and with pupils so enlarged that he reminded (Reader) of the ghost woman from a scary movie their mother had been watching. He tried to brush his black hair out of his eyes, never looking away from (Reader's). It was the most intense staring contest (Reader) had ever been in.

He was timid in his approach, crouching down to his knees as he got closer to (Reader).

"..Hi." His voice was shaky and breathy. The man seemed to be overcome with an emotion that (Reader) didn't recognize. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes, yet he still didn't blink. He swallowed hard before continuing. "My name is Donavon."

(Reader) was in an odd trance, halfway between petrified and numb. "My name is (Reader)." They didn't know why they answered.

"I know." For the first time since entering, Donavon glanced away from (Reader), searching the room for something. There were no toys in (Reader's) room. "Are you a-" His face broke trying to find the words he needed for his question. "Are you a b-?" A- a-.."

"I'm a kid." (Reader) tugged on their uncomfortable long sleeve shirt.

Donavon smiled so wide that his face looked like it completely split in half. Tears ran down his face shamelessly. The pure joy startled (Reader). "You're a kid." He sniffed back his snot and wiped away some tears, still smiling so hard that his face was turning red and he looked like he was going to laugh. "You're my kid."

He pulled (Reader) into a hug.

It wasn't like the quick hug the school nurse gave them, or the hugs their friends at school gave them; it was desperate.

He squeezed them almost too tightly, his fingers digging painfully into their ribs as he breathed in their hair. But (Reader) didn't cry out or ask him to stop. Tears had begun to fall from their eyes as well.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. I should have been here. I should have been here." He started rocking (Reader) as he apologized into their scalp. "I didn't know about you, but I do now, and I'm here now."

(Reader) felt him kiss the side of their head quickly before he went back to whispering.

"I didn't know. But I do now. I'm so sorry."

It was too much, and it made (Reader) cry. They sobbed loudly, wailing into his chest as they returned the hug.

"I love you, (Reader). I love you so much. I don't know you yet, but I still love you. I should have been here for you, but I am now. And I am never letting you go. Okay? No one is ever taking you away from me."

Police sirens approached, screaming outside the building. (Reader) felt Donavon quickly reach into his back pocket, but he never let go from their right embrace.

"I never knew your mom. When I saw you with her last year, I - I tried to get into contact, but, but.. No one would listen to me, I had no proof.. I.. got a DNA test.. I -I'm your dad! I'm a father!" He started rambling, trying to explain things to (Reader), but they couldn't understand anything he was saying. And it didn't matter to them. He said he loved them.

(Reader) heard heavy boot steps and an officer loudly announce his presence.

"No one is ever taking you away from me again."

He was still only hugging (Reader) with one arm.

Someone entered the room, and a really loud sound hurt (Reader's) ears.

An officer shot Donovan in the shoulder, causing the knife he was holding to clatter onto the floor. He fell, releasing (Reader). They saw the knife and quickly put two and two together. But something happened in (Reader's) underdeveloped brain. It didn't matter that they had just met him. That man the police just shot was their dad. And he loved them.

"No!" (Reader) tried to launch themselves at Donovan to protect him, but their tiny body was caught by an officer.

"Don't worry, I've got ya!" The man tried to console (Reader), easily subduing their thrashing limbs, but his soothing voice didn't ease the pain in their heart, nor did it dampen the volume of their shrieks.

"DADDY!!"

The cop carried (Reader) out past the bodies of their mother and Kevin. Both were mutilated, lying naked near the couch in a pool of blood and spilt vodka.

Donavon was sentenced to life without parole.

He testified in court that the only thing he regretted was almost hurting his child. (Reader's) mother had taken advantage of him at a party years ago. Donavon had passed out drunk in the master's bedroom and woken up with his pants and underwear around his ankles. He told the court he didn't remember anything that happened, so although he suspected that someone had assaulted him, he had no proof and records showed that the police refused to help him when he went to report it.

It was a one in a million chance that Donavon saw (Reader) and their mother grocery shopping over a year ago, and nearly had a heart attack seeing a little kid who had his father's ears. Ears are just as unique as fingerprints, and to see a little kid with badly cut hair looking like a mixture of his father's baby photos and the woman walking beside them gave Donavon a sense of confidence that was borderline disturbing. He told the jury that he approached the woman with the intent of making polite conversation about how much alike her kiddo looked like his late father, but knew immediately that (Reader) was his, because when their mother looked Donavon in the eyes she recognized him.

"Before I could even say 'Hi', she grabbed (Reader's) arm and said 'Stay away from my child, Donavon.' I didn't even remember her face."

On the witness stand, Donavon admitted to breaking into their home so he could get access to (Reader's) DNA, stealing their hair brush. He also admitted to stalking the family, watching them as (Reader) openly showed signs of abuse. He called CPS multiple times, but nothing ever came of it.

Donavon repeated how time and time again law enforcement failed to help him get custody of his 'alleged' child, and that he had "snapped".

"I told (Reader) that no one would take them away from me again. Please, please I know I was wrong." Donavon pleaded the jury, looking past the lawyers and staring with his horrifying, never ending gaze. "Please don't put me away forever. I can get better, with help! I needed help! But my baby, my kiddo, they deserve better, please don't separate us again!"

Despite going to a decent foster family and receiving regular therapy sessions with child services, (Reader) had learned what true love was. The smiles their foster family gave them felt fake. No one could hug (Reader) tight enough to press their way into (Reader's) heart. Love was tears streaming down from the black coal eyes of a desperate father who just killed his kiddo's abusers. That was heroic. That was good. Just.

(Reader's) foster parents smiled at each other all the time, and said I love you multiple times a day. Then they divorced. Love was (Reader's) daddy, ready to kill (Reader) so they never had to be apart again.

The therapist with child services watched with a broken heart as (Reader) refused her homemade cookies. "Have you made any friends at school?"

(Reader) shrugged. They didn't see much of a point in friends. "There are these two kids I eat lunch with." Two kids who wouldn't leave them alone, no matter how much (Reader) ignored them.

"That's good! What are their names?"

"Miranda and Brian."

"Are they good kids?"

"They're weird. Brian wears glasses that make his eyes look super big, and Miranda wears a fedora."

"Well, I'll let you in on a secret. The weird kids are usually more fun to hang out with than the normal kids!" She winked while smiling, but it didn't phase (Reader).

"When can I see my dad?"

The therapist leaned back, looking up at the ceiling to control her inner turmoil before shutting her eyes. "I'm working on that, but it's very difficult. Mr. McElroy is in a lot of trouble for what he did."

(Reader) looked down at the drawing they had been making of them playing outside with Donavon. "I wish he killed me."

Part II

Warren had run away from home, again.

His left eye was swollen shut, and blood speckled the front of his t-shirt. The ten year old hadn't even done anything yet, but his father had had a bad day at work, and been drinking for a couple of hours by the time Warren was dropped off by the Saturday babysitter.

He ran into the woods, blinded by his tears and the swelling.

Because of the crying and injury to his eye, Warren couldn't see very well, and kept running even when he emerged from the trees into a clearing; running into a very deep hole.

There was a pain as his ankle popped, crashing at the bottom into the mud. Everything hurt, so he allowed himself to scream and cry as loudly as he needed. No one was going to come for him anyway.

And so he stayed in the hole and watched as the sun went down and the world went black. Even though he knew his father wouldn't come looking for him, he still wished he would. He wished someone needed him as badly as he needed them.

There was no moon that night, leaving Warren completely blind after the purple sunset left the sky. With his unusually dilated pupils Warren typically preferred the dark over the sun, but without the moon there wasn't enough light for him to see.

'Maybe, I should just spend the night in here.' The sad thought made him sniffle, threatening to release the floodgates again.

"It's right over here!" A loud whisper followed by feet tripping over branches echoed through the trees. Warren held his breath, suddenly afraid of being discovered. It wasn't logical to be frightened, but he was. There were strangers in the woods, and he was in pain and blind and alone. His heart beat in his chest like a war drum as people drew near.

"How do you know where it is?"

The voices belonged to children, probably around Warren's age, but he didn't recognize any of them. Most of what they said was too quiet to hear, until they arrived at the clearing.

"Over here."

The strangers stopped near the hole, but too far away to see Warren covered in mud at the bottom. Lights were illuminating the air, and Warren figured that they must have had flashlights with them. His eyes finally had enough light to adjust to the pitch black, and he watched a letter flutter into the hole, followed shortly by another letter, gracefully drifting in.

Then a thick envelope was chucked in, hitting Warren in the head, who had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from accidentally making a startled sound.

"What did you wish for?" Someone asked.

With that question, Warren realized where he was.

He grabbed the letter that had hit him, quietly opening it up as two of the strangers above him bickered. In the faint light he saw a lot of words, too many to read before they left, so he quickly scanned the page out of curiosity. His breath hitched when he saw a drawing of himself.

Black eyes and shaggy black hair.

Warren put the papers back in the envelope and stuck it in his pants. Someone approached the edge, and Warren caught a glimpse of hair and eyes. They didn't see him, but he certainly saw them.

"What did you wish for, (Reader)?"

"Someone who loves me.."

And at that moment, Warren believed in the hole that grants wishes.

He had no proof that the child looking down at him was the same child who threw the wish practically into his lap, but he knew that it was. Like fate, or magic.

After the trio left, Warren pulled his sore little body out of the muck, repeating (Reader's) name to himself over and over again as to not forget it. He didn't know how, but he knew that (Reader) was the one who's wish he had stolen. Warren limped home, easily sneaking in past his father passed out on the couch and up the stairs to the bathroom, where he locked the door.

He quickly pulled out the letter, opening it up in the light to read the wish in full.

"I wish someone would love me." Warren read quietly out loud, sounding out each word as his finger followed the sentence.

"He has to be just like my dad. Be - cause my dad is the only person who loves me."

"He has to have black hair and black eyes.."

Warren looked at his dirty face in the mirror, ignoring the purple around his left eye and focusing on his natural features. A proud smile crept onto his lips.

He went back to reading. "And his eyes should be deep.." Warren's own eyes were also deep set, making it look like he had bags under his eyes even after a full night's sleep. His ears started to turn pink. The picture was of the kid he saw at the hole with a tall man with black hair and eyes and a little guy who looked the same. He pointed at each person. "That's (Reader).. that's (Reader's) daddy... And that's.." he looked at himself in the mirror, tearing up with how hard he was smiling.

Someone needed him.

He turned the page over and his smile instantly fell, his blood freezing.

Pictures of bloody bodies covered the pages.

Page after page of dead people with the most intense things Warren had ever read followed the seemingly innocent wish. He hadn't been exposed to video games yet, his father didn't let him watch TV, and Warren ignored the other kids at his school, so he had never known violence outside of the terrible things his father did to him. And the words he read in that envelope were violent.

"True love is keeping me."

"If he loves me, he'll kill me."

"Don't let them take me away again."

"Together forever."

(Reader) was worried about the limitations of the wishing hole, so they felt they had to be very specific about their ideal boy. Which meant that they had to explain what love was. And to explain what love was, meant that they had to explain to the hole what their dad had done to their mother and Kevin.

It scared Warren.

But only for a moment.

He thought about the joy (Reader) would feel when they saw him for the first time, how their eyes would light up with love and adoration. In his mind, they would recognize him instantly, like their drawing come to life. Warren was their wish come true. And, in a way, (Reader) was his.

He slowly went back to his bedroom and hid the letter in his underwear drawer. The wish was like his most prized possession. Knowing that there was someone out there who needed Warren made him, for the first time in a very long time, feel hopeful for the future.

The next few years of Warren's life, however, were not pleasant in the slightest.

An anatomy book flew at Warren's face, connecting with his thin nose. He was now in highschool, and the abuse had only worsened.

"What the fuck is this?!" His father threw another medical book, terrified. In the past he used to throw and break things even though Warren's only crime was existing, but now even Warren could understand his father's disgust.

A rat laid on Warren's table, split open.

"I'm practicing.." Warren smiled, blood dripping from his nostrils.

"I should kick you out of the goddamn house!" The drunk man kicked a wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.

"If you do that, I'll go to the police."

His father's eyes widened. "The fuck you just say, you little psychopath?!"

The man was very nimble for someone so swollen from years of alcohol consumption, closing the distance between himself and his son before Warren had a chance to put up his hands in defense. Large, yellowed fingers grabbed a fistful of Warren's greasy hair and lifted his dangerously underweight body off the ground; high enough where Warren couldn't touch the floor with his toes.

"Think about it. You have no proof for the cops that I killed this rat, but I have all the proof that you hit me." To emphasize his point, Warren didn't wipe away the blood that was now dripping onto the rat carcass.

Black eyes that held no light stared wide and unblinking at the disgusting excuse of a man before Warren. His father looked about the room, which was now covered in articles about some murderer from years ago and medical texts printed off at the local library.

Warren was dropped onto his ass. "Fucking freak." His father mumbled before stumbling out of the room.

It wasn't until Warren heard the drunkard smash though the hall towards the staircase that he finally grabbed some tissue to shove up his nose. It had taken him years and years of hard thinking, but Warren had finally found a way to be (Reader's) perfect husband. It was difficult, but the solution was finally discovered, a way to make (Reader's) wish come true without killing them.

He thought he would probably drop out of school, but that didn't really matter to Warren. The young man already had a part time job, and his future career as a manager for a small corner store was practically set.

Candid shots of (Reader) laid under the box of tissues. While (Reader) had continued growing into an attractive young adult, Warren was stunted. A lack of nutrition gave his unnaturally pale skin a yellow tint, and he was so thin that some of his teeth were becoming loose. But it felt as though he couldn't waste even a second thought on anything that wasn't (Reader).

"I'm sorry, Mr. Whiskers.." Warren apologized quietly to the dead rat. "I didn't mean to kill you. I'll do better next time."

Every time Warren saw (Reader) out and about, he wanted to drag them behind a dumpster and fuck them till they bled. It took incredible restraint to stick to his plan and keep to the shadows.

Their wish, laminated, hung above his bed like a prayer, one that he read and worshipped every night before bed.

Warren's father didn't notice when he stopped going to his classes.

He also didn't notice the muffled screaming from the basement, when Warren evolved his experiments from rats to people.

It wasn't until the smell became unbearable that he finally sobered up enough to go down and investigate.

As he searched the house for the cause of the smell, the aging, dying man briefly wondered when the last time he had been down in basement was. Or, when he last saw his good for nothing son.

The stairs to the lowest level creaked under his shoes, and an anxiety he had never before known trickled up through his bones.

At the bottom of the stairs, a door held back the stench like a leaking flood gate. Opening the squealing door wafted a wave of nausea inducing gas right into the man's face.

"Hey, ew what the- hey freak! You down here?! What's that smell..?" His eyes didn't have time to adjust to the dusty basement light before Warren swung a wooden baseball bat with spikes towards his father's face. One spike went through his skull near his nose and another popped open one of his eyes. But his death was due to the blunt force, cracking his head open as easily as smashing a watermelon. The junkie strapped and gagged to the table silently screamed as their one hope for salvation died in front of them.

"I'm sorry about the interruption." Warren smiled, his eyes still and unwavering. The man who had destroyed his childhood and stolen his happiness laid bleeding out on the floor, and Warren didn't feel a single thing. It was strange, part of him thought that he would feel satisfaction watching his abuser die, but he felt nothing at all. Warren only killed his father because he had interrupted his experiment with the homeless person who looked amazingly like (Reader). The young man held up a belt. "Let's continue."

Warren didn't consider himself to be a murderer. What he was doing to the people he abducted was for love. There was no evil or hatred, and if he looked at it in a certain light, he wasn't really trying to kill them at all.

Moving to the night shift gave Warren more time to stalk (Reader) during the day. Just as he had predicted, Warren became a higher member of management, and even 'owned his own home' now that his father had tragically passed. Everything was progressing perfectly, because his entire existence was a wish come true.

It hurt, hiding in the booth behind (Reader) and their friends, hearing about how they had started dating at the suggestion of their bitch therapist, but Warren decided that it was good for their relationship. It proved to him that even after all this time, (Reader) still loved him and needed him. Every time a date failed to live up to (Reader's) expectations it further fueled Warren's fantasy of how (Reader) would react when he finally revealed himself to them.

The dates also provided Warren ample opportunity to look around their apartment. Like when they went on a date with some whiny loser his age. He wasn't even (Reader's) type. Their home was small and quaint, and taking pictures of it in extreme detail helped Warren learn how to decorate the room (Reader) would be staying in once they finally started dating.

Dating.

The idea of merely "dating" caused a painful strain in Warren's chest, but he knew that it was only logical to date before he proposed. At least for a month or so. Maybe a week.

Well, whenever he did propose, Warren knew (Reader) would accept, because Warren was their wish come true. There was nothing he could do wrong, because his entire existence was due to (Reader's) will.

He didn't even bother cleaning off the dirt when he scuffed up the bedroom door. There was no point, because (Reader) wouldn't ever fear or hate anything he did, even if they didn't know he was the one responsible. Because that was fate.

(Reader's) undergarments rested on top of the dirty clothes basket.

Even that was fate.

Because why would they leave their worn underwear in plain view, if not for him? His hands with dirt crusted nails stroked the garment, imaging that he could still feel the heat of (Reader's) body on them. Warren imagined how happy (Reader) would be to learn what he did with their underwear, in their bed. He imagined their eyes glowing like an angel's as their smile graced his filthy presence.

Because this was (Reader's) wish.

And soon, Warren would finally give them their happily ever after.

Warren had put in for a week of vacation at his work; their shared bedroom was decorated; and his supplies were hidden in a backpack in the dirt behind (Reader's) complex. It was like a fairytale, when the knight came to save the dragon from the prince.

Rich approached (Reader's) front door as Warren dug up his hidden tools. Mud covered his face and gloves, but he didn't mind. In fact, it was like a mask, where only his true love would recognize him. Warren knew that his dream would come true that day, but it was even better than he had hoped for. Prince Rich was there to harass his dragon.

He had hoped it would be this easy, and the universe provided. Fate was always on Warren's side when it came to making (Reader's) wish come true. All those lives lost to Warren's experiments were not wasted.

The annoying voice of Rich was audible from outside the building, but it was difficult to feel anything negative towards to poor bastard. In Warren's mind, it wasn't Rich's fault that he was born to be such a loser; it was fate's design for the man to be sacrificed.

Warren threw open the front door, scaring the shit out of the stronger looking man. "Who the fuck is that?!"

Then, the sands of time were fused into glass by the electricity between Warren and (Reader). Their expression looked relieved, just as Warren had always hoped it would. A smile stretched across the beautiful lips Warren often fantasized about kissing. Their cheeks pulled up in the most honest grin Warren had ever seen.

Tears of joy decorated their bottom lashes like glitter.

"He's here to kill me."

Rich put up his arm as though to protect (Reader) from Warren. Again, Warren felt no anger towards the man and his silly reaction.

The bat used to kill Warren's father restarted time as it aimed for Rich's skull.

(Reader) looked up endearingly at Warren, now sitting on their knees in a pool of Rich's blood. The man before them was everything they had ever dreamt of. His black eyes never left (Reader's), even as he bludgeoned their date to death.

It took all of (Reader's) will power to not shake in their seat. Excitement flowed through their veins so quickly that it sent involuntary quivers through their muscles. Everything that they had ever wanted was finally coming true.

"I've been waiting for you." (Reader) felt their chest tighten as Warren approached.

But then he dropped his bat.

Their smile twitched a little, but (Reader) tried to not let anxiety ruin their happiest moment. The dirty man slid a backpack off and started rifling through it.

"I've been waiting for you too.." A voice that sounded oddly chipper finally responded, echoing from a wide grin that showed off yellowing teeth with a few missing on the bottom row.

(Reader) smiled harder. "You're going to kill me?" It was phrased like a question, but it was more of a plea.

"No."

"What?"

(Reader's) smile cracked in half. The adrenaline in their system turned deadly.

Warren's smile didn't fade.

"But, you have to." (Reader) began to panic. This had to be the man they wished to life. He had to be there to kill them. It was fate. He had to! "Aren't you here for me?"

"Of course I am."

"Then you have to kill me! If you love me, you have to-!"

Warren dropped his bag, revealing a hacksaw. He held it relaxed in one hand, and held a belt in the other. "Do you know how selfish you are, (Reader)?"

(Reader's) mind went numb with confusion.

"I've loved you for so long, and now that I finally have you, you think I'm going to kill you?"

"I'm not going to let anyone have you."

"Not even death."

The End

The two story house was full of trash bags. Every room in the building was full of clutter and filth, except the master bedroom.

Warren came home from a long shift, excited to have his precious spouse in his arms.

None of the guards at the prison would listen to Donavon when he tried to convince them all that something was wrong. A child suddenly not visiting their murderer of a parent in prison was not reason to go to the police and open a missing person's case. Even the officers that liked Donavon couldn't do anything.

The bedroom decorated to (Reader's) taste was unlocked by Warren as he finally climbed through all the shit. He entered their shared home with a warm expression of pure love on his face.

"(Reader), I'm home!"

In the middle of the room watching television was a wheelchair bound (Reader). Their arms and legs amputated, sitting helplessly in a soiled diaper. A drugged up, lopsided smiled sleepily tugged the corners of their mouth up.

"Welcome home, baby.."

A/N: Sorry it took so long, happy to start writing again ❤️

[wandasreallover]

Obsession|mean! Wanda x reader

College au!

Warnings: swearing, wandas a meanie, reader has a boyfriend

The air in the dorm room hung thick with the scent of stale coffee and the tension that had simmered between us since the first day of freshman year. Wanda Maximoff, with her messy brown hair, perpetually smudged eyeliner, and a smirk permanently etched on her lips, was sprawled across my bed, flipping through a textbook with complete disregard for the fact that I was trying to study.

'You really think you'll pass Professor Barnes' class with that level of effort?' she drawled, her voice dripping with mock concern.

I slammed my notes shut, the frustration building within me like a pressure cooker. 'Just because you can breeze through everything doesn't mean everyone else can,' I snapped.

She laughed, a sharp, mirthless sound that echoed in the small space. 'Don't be so dramatic, darling. It's not like you're actually trying to learn anything.'

'Well, maybe if you weren't constantly trying to sabotage my every attempt, I would,' I retorted, my voice tight with barely-contained anger.

She shrugged, her green eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. 'Just trying to keep things interesting, love. You're so predictable, it's frankly boring.'

This was our routine, a constant back-and-forth that had become the soundtrack to our shared dorm room. She loved to torment me, to push my buttons, to make my already stressful college life a living hell. I, in turn, hated her with a fierce, burning passion that I refused to acknowledge.

Later that night, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my reflection a pale ghost against the dimly lit room. I was exhausted, my face lined with worry, my eyes perpetually bloodshot. Every interaction with Wanda chipped away at my sanity, leaving me feeling drained and defeated.

As if sensing my unease, she entered the room, her movements a graceful panther prowling through the shadows. She stopped in front of me, her dark eyes boring into mine, her gaze sharp and unnerving.

'Going out with your little boyfriend again?' she asked, a sardonic smile playing on her lips. It was no secret to anyone that wanda maximoff hayed your boyfriend but quite frankly i didn't care, i find it amusing how worked up she gets over me seeing him.

Despite this my heart skipped a beat, a wave of heat rushing through me. I had desperately been trying to keep any real confrontation surrounding him from her to a minimum as this was my small, fragile sanctuary amidst the chaos she brought into my life. Trying so desperately to avoid any comments which admittedly make me slightly insecure, slowly chipping away my self esteem.

'It's none of your business,' I said, my voice brittle.

She leaned closer, her breath warm against my skin. 'Don't lie, darling. I saw you. You were holding hands, all lovey-dovey.'

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. I thought i had been so careful, so desperate to protect this part of my life as far from her as possible, and yet, she had seen through my attempts at privacy.

'So what? Are you going to try to ruin this, too?' I challenged, my voice trembling.

She tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes. 'Ruin it? Why would I do that? I'm just interested, darling. Tell me about him.' despite her condescendingly sweet tone i saw through her, her facing plastered with a poorly surpressed smirk.

Unwilling to entertain her, her words hung in the air, a twisted invitation laced with an unsettling intensity. I felt a shiver run down my spine, a strange mix of fear and fascination coursing through me.

'I thought you didn't care,' I whispered, my voice barely audible, unprepared for the onslaught of any insults she may throw my way. However that doesn't come. A sudden silence descended upon the room, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator. Wanda stepped closer, her gaze unwavering.

'I don't,' she whispered back, her voice a low, mesmerizing murmur. 'But I do.'

Her words, spoken with an unusual vulnerability, sent a jolt through me. I looked into her eyes, the red depths swirling with emotions I couldn't decipher. Wanda is a mystery to me, despite all the time we are forced to spend together, never has she allowed herself to appear as vulnerable as she does now.

'What do you mean?' I asked, my voice a mere breath.

She took a step closer, the air growing thick with anticipation. 'I mean,' she said, her voice suddenly cold and barely a whisper, 'that I'm totally and utterly obsessed with you.'

The words hit me like a physical blow, leaving me stunned and speechless. I had been so focused on her antagonistic behavior, so consumed by the daily battles we waged, that I had completely missed the undercurrent of something else, something darker, something more intense. And now, it was spilling over, threatening to drown me in its depths.

'I see you,' Wanda continued, her voice a low hum against my skin, 'every time you walk by, every time you smile, every time you laugh. You're the only thing that matters, and I can't stop thinking about you.'

She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. 'I watch you,' she whispered, her voice laced with a strange, almost erotic, intensity. 'I watch you with him, and it makes me sick.'

I drew back, my heart pounding against my ribs. Her confession, the intensity of her obsession, the raw emotions swirling in her green eyes, it all felt so overwhelming, so terrifying.

'What do you want from me?' I managed to ask, my voice now trembling.

She smiled, a slow, predatory smile that sent a shiver down my spine. 'I want you,' she said, her voice a seductive whisper. 'I want you all to myself, and I'm going to have you.'

She leaned in again, her lips hovering just above mine. 'You're going to choose me,' she promised, her voice a dangerous murmur. 'And when you do, I will make you forget you ever knew anyone else.'

The air crackled with unspoken threats and suppressed desires, leaving me paralyzed with fear and a strange, unsettling fascination. I had no idea what was happening, what Wanda was capable of, what she intended to do with the power of her obsession. All I knew was that something had changed, the game had shifted, and the stakes had been raised to a level I could never have imagined.

A/n- i genuinely don't know how feel about this.

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

Ah, Star Wars fans. Once again perpetuating the Draco in Leather Pants trope to the point where we're all sick of it. Do I have to beat someone with the 'He's-Supposed-To-Be-Evil' Stick or something?

yeah. the acolyte itself as a show is straddling a line right now that, I'm sorry, I kind of don't think the Star Wars fandom at large is media literate enough to understand.

I've already seen a number of tiktoks and tumblr posts saying, "omg now I understand reylos," which besides being exhausting and annoying, immediately proves my point. There's obviously some differences between reylo and whatever osha/qimir is called within both production and the narrative, but overall what I'm baffled by every. single. time. is how weirdly everyone in the star wars fandom reacts to an attractive male villain blatantly manipulating a young woman.

I think the acolyte is clearly aiming for us to see and understand that Qimir is manipulating Osha. We know Qimir is clever. We saw him successfully worm his way out of being caught by the Jedi by playing up the "quirky sidekick" shtick. What I don't think a lot of the audience picks up on is just how smart he is. During one of his and Osha's conversations, he lets her suggest things and make assumptions, ie:

Osha: Where’d you get that scar?

Qimir: How do you think I got it?

Osha: Looks like someone stabbed you in the back.

Qimir: Someone who threw me away.

Osha: Your Jedi Master?

And then he doesn't correct her or elaborate. He lets her assume the worst. He lets her imagination wander. He's not interested in explaining because he knows the real story, whatever it may be, doesn't make him look as favorable as her idea. It's exchanges like that that are subtle examples of his manipulation, less obvious than the outright goading he uses against her when he gets her to admit she thinks of herself as a failure and that's why she left the Jedi.

There's also the earlier exchange:

Osha: He’s found me before, and his strength in the Force is very powerful.

Qimir: You think that’s his strength? That’s your strength in the Force, Osha. Someone ought to teach you that.

To a lot of people, that sounds like a compliment. But it isn't. Qimir makes a statement vague enough that successfully implies the Jedi have been lying to Osha about her own strength in the Force while also keeping just enough information to himself that he knows Osha will stick around to find out what he meant, instead of swimming to the ship he points out to her right after. And she does exactly that, continues to follow and engage in argument and conversation with him.

In fact, Qimir knows the more Osha talks to him, the more Osha even entertains the idea of talking to him instead of leaving, the more he can get inside her head. His naked swimming jaunt isn't him flaunting or showing off for Osha in some genuinely romantic way– it's yet another manipulation tactic. Though, if she is seduced, that helps him too.

Qimir purposefully makes himself into a vulnerable state in front of her to lull her into a false sense of security. He leaves his weapon with his clothes so she has the opportunity to take it; he is signalling to her that he is "completely" disarmed, though that is not true, since we know he is far stronger in the Force and in combat, and, perhaps, more cunning than Osha. His nudity forces Osha to acknowledge he is human, and Qimir benefits from Osha thinking of him as just a quirky, charming loner who's the victim of the Jedi, who offers her soup and disrobes in front of her.

The reason I know that none of this is genuine is simple. He goes back and forth between flat out acting as if he pities Osha ("Why do you love people who can only go so far?") but that doesn't get him the reaction he's looking for, so he bounces back to antagonizing her ("Why aren’t you a Jedi, Osha?) to finally, convincing her that she is similar to him ("I understand.") None of these things are actually Qimir trying to get to know Osha. Sure, he needs to understand her to manipulate her, but he'd do or say anything to get her to stick around and allow him to corrupt her further.

to me, Qimir is kind of the Star Wars equivalent to like a mimic species in the animal world. He's smart enough to know that in order to get what he wants, he has to act a certain way that isn't necessarily his real personality, and he can exploit Osha's (and anyone else's, for that matter) feelings by molding his personality and actions to achieve his goals so his victims are less likely to notice that he's using them.

The problem is that a big portion of the audience doesn't appear to recognize it, either. We know the rules of the Star Wars universe very well by now. Force Users this deep in the Dark Side cannot actually love someone. Sure, they can be obsessed with someone, but they cannot actually reciprocate feelings as the Dark Side corrupts them.

I've come to the conclusion that the majority of people watching Star Wars are not watching with the intention of picking up on any of this, despite the fact that the acolyte is actually doing it quite masterfully. They are paying attention to Manny Jacinto's muscles, and little else. You cannot argue or convince people who do not want to listen. They did not want to listen in 2017, when the reddest of red flags "You're nothing, but not to me," line was delivered, which had all the subtlety of being hit over the head with an anvil, and they are not listening now. If people are able to be gaslit by Kylo Ren into believing his victim card was validated, they will certainly and inevitably be gaslit by Qimir, who, so far, is much more cunning.

the acolyte even *plans* for this though, deliberately and suddenly cutting to the scene of Jecki's lifeless body, reminding the audience that Qimir is not the quirky, charming, harmless loner who he presents himself to be, but actually a man who we know to be capable of unspeakable acts of violence towards even children. at this point, I can't actually see any reason why the fandom continues to act like he is in love with Osha in any kind of genuine manner when it's so mind-blowingly obvious that he is male manipulator #1.

I think does a huge disservice to the story the acolyte seems to be trying to present at this point to be so blind with lust or whatever it is the fandom feels towards this guy that his own tactics have begun to work on them. it's actually so incredible that it makes me a bit ill. they may find him hot all they want, but for the love of Leia Organa's Star Wars at least recognize his tactics for what they are instead of also allowing yourself to be fooled!!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Unending.

Continuation of Undeterred.

Pairing: Furina x Reader (+Arlecchino) [Genshin].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Mentions of Consensual Sex and Melodramatic Lesbians. Live Dove: Tender and Sweet.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

 Furina had not been made to be loved.

It was an unfortunate truth she’d come to terms within the first decade of her being. As an archon, she’d received adoration. As a performer and a director, she knew appraise. She’d experienced things like love, things that came very close, but never love itself. Her creator had not loved her, no more than Focalors had loved any of the people she’d come so close to dooming, and even those she’d been close to as a goddess were no more able to love her than a member of the audience would be able to love a starring actress. And that was the way it should be, she was able to convince herself on her best days. There was no point yearning for things that could never be. What had she ever done to be worthy of love, in the first place?

“My lady?”

She didn’t stir at the sound of your footsteps, only leaning more of her weight onto the balcony guardrail and throwing the quickest, slightest glance over her shoulder. You were a sight – hair thoroughly tussled, discolored bruising in the shape of Lord Arlecchino’s teeth painted down either side of your throat, a robe of ivory silk pulled loose over your body – but she was sure that she was no better, herself. The insatiable exhaustion that seemed to drape itself over her perpetually was now paired with a distinct ache in her shoulders, a soreness at the base of her throat. It would be worse in the morning, although shame would’ve started to soften the night’s harsher edges, by them.

You didn’t ask before taking a seat next to her and thrusting a porcelain chalice into her lap. “More wine?” she asked, taking it up reflexively.

“Water,” you corrected, settling into place beside her. “I thought you might want to start chipping away at tomorrow’s burden.”

Only half-consciously, Furina found herself smiling. She’d always been fond of that side of the human mind – always so considerate, even when the slanted angle of your posture and the slight limp in your step made it clear you’d rather still be in bed. Gods, like her, were rarely so selfless.

Only, she wasn’t a god anymore. She’d never been, really – only an actress preforming the role of one.

She stopped herself before could spiral any further.

You’d rather be in bed, she retreated back to, instead. Furina was sure of it. That was where she’d left you – Arlecchino’s face still buried between your thighs, your hands balling at her silk sheets in pleasure. It was a good match – you and Arlecchino, two brilliant minds hidden behind cruel tongues and beautiful faces. She could only hope that, once you took your rightful place at the Harbinger’s side, you’d remember to write her a letter every now and then. “You really should start packing,” she muttered, absent-mindedly. “I think I remember Lord Arlecchino mentioning that her ship leaves at dawn.”

You hummed. “And where would I be sailing away to, my lady?”

“…Snezhnaya? That is, unless she has obligations elsewhere.”

Another hum, a quick shake of your head. “Snezhnaya’s far too cold at this time of year. If it were Mondstadt, maybe, but for Snezhnaya, I’m afraid I’d never be able to force myself off the boat. Fontaine’s climate is much more agreeable.”

Her lips quirked downward. “Don’t patronize me, I—” Her voice cut out, abruptly. It was a fight to summon it again, but she soldiered on. “I know her interest in you is genuine. You’d be a fool not to leave with her.” You opened your mouth, but she only raised her voice. “If you’re afraid of leaving me alone, don’t be. I—I can manage on my own, and—”

She grit her teeth, clenching her eyes shut. In an instant, your hand was on her shoulder, your side pressed into her arm, but she refused to let herself fall back into the familiar haven of your comfort. “And,” she managed, eventually, even if her voice was weak, her tone dangerously close to tipping into something suitably pathetic. “It’s not as if I’m an archon, anymore. You don’t have to keep pretending you like being around me.”

You let a moment pass by in silence, then another.

Finally, you said, “It’s true that Lord Arlecchino is very charming.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, just—”

“And her prowess on the battlefield and at the war-table can’t be overstated.”

“Well, it’s unfair to compare—”

“And I’m sure her salary as a Harbinger would make it so that I never had to lift a finger for as long as I choose to stay with her.”

“Alright, I never asked to you to do all that—”

 “But,” you went on, your hand falling onto her own and squeezing, gently. “I’m afraid I’ve already sent her away. I doubt it’ll last, but for the moment, she seems assured of my total and utter inability to reciprocate her affection.”

Furina couldn’t help but blanch. “You sent her—Why? She’s so handsome, and tall, and—”

“And I’m not in love with her.” You slumped against her, your exhaustion shining through your low-brewing mirth. “It’s awful, honestly. It’s a terrible waste, honestly. I’m afraid the girl who’s truly stolen my heart is far too oblivious to ever notice me.”

Her eyes widened. It was in turn to take your hand, now, to snap towards you – her fatigue instantly replaced with curiosity. “You’re in love with someone? Who? Why haven’t you told me?”

Your only response was a slight smile, an airy laugh. Your eyes darted up to meet hers, and Furina felt her cheeks start to burn. “Oh.”

“I know,” you said, with another breathy chuckle. “Like I said, it’s terrible.”

Oh.

It felt like a stupid thing to ask. It was a stupid thing to ask, but her hand was shaking by the time it found your cheek and her throat felt dry and it was all she could do to make herself say anything at all. “Can I…?”

She couldn’t finish, but she didn’t have to. Your mouth was already crashing into hers, the kiss more tender than any other form of intimacy she’d experienced that night, any other form of affection her immortality had ever seen fit to afford her. She felt tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes, something dry and choking begin to swell at the base of her throat, but she choked it down, melting against you.

Furina, the archon, had not been meant to be loved.

And yet, there was still a chance that Furina, the human, might turn out differently.

[sowoozoo-7]

I Think I Want to Marry You (KSJ)

Pairing: actor!Seokjin x stylist!reader

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, a lil bit of angst

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You've never put a label on your relationship with Seokjin, and you prefer it that way. But one day, he proposes out of the blue.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex but nothing explicit

A/N: In honor of Jin's return from the military, here's a fic I've been sitting on for the past few months. Welcome home, Worldwide Handsome 🫶🫡 Unedited and unbeta’d, and as always, would love to hear from you!.

The day you meet Seokjin, he walks you down the aisle. 

He arrives to the venue minutes before the wedding is supposed to start. When he steps out of the chauffeured black car, it’s like you’re seeing him in slow motion arriving at a red carpet, his hair swept back, suit tailored to perfection. Apologies drip from his lips like honey, for missing the rehearsal the day before, for almost being late today. 

Every inch the Hollywood darling, you want to hate him, but he introduces himself as if he’s not plastered on every billboard in town, gets misty-eyed at the vows, and actually remembers your name. When he busts into a goofy dance during the wedding party entrance at the reception, you can’t help but smile and wiggle along. 

“So anyway, every time I get to see the stars like this, I can’t help but think abut that one scene in the Lion King where Timon says they’re just fireflies stuck in the sky.” 

You’re lying flat on a trampoline, the voluminous skirts of your pastel-puke bridesmaid dress spread out around you. Weddings are exhausting, doubly so for the perpetually single, and triply so for industry weddings. The pressure to be gracious, to (barf) network, to make sure everyone looks good for the inevitable social media posts, all of it has your social battery dangerously low. You’ve done your rounds on the dance floor and you’ve hand one drink past your best friend’s two-drink limit. So you’ve escaped the reception and found the trampoline tucked in a back corner of the mansion’s extensive gardens, presumably for events with kids. Makes for a good hiding spot. It’s quiet and dark, the only evidence of a party the bass and cheers from the dance floor.

“What if they are?”

You push down your skirts to look at Seokjin. His hands prop up his stupidly handsome head, eyes on the clear sky above you. 

“Idiot. We’ve been to space. They’re big burning balls of gas.”

“What if they’re just really, really, really big fireflies really, really far away and we just don’t know it.” 

You think for a second, seriously considering it as a possibility. Then you shrug. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? They’re still stars to us. Untouchable.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

His expression is dead serious when you look over at him, and you place your hand in his. He takes it and places it over his heart. You feel his heartbeat under the layers of clothing, the rhythm steady. Your own heart picks up the pace as he looks at you, eyes serious, searching. 

“Not all stars are untouchable.” 

You scoff and snatch your hand away. “That’s the worst line I’ve ever heard.” 

He laughs with you, the trampoline shaking with the force of your laughter. 

An announcement interrupts the music, too muffled to make out, but a quick check on your phone shows you it’s time for the bouquet toss. The whole event is less a wedding and more of a highly choreographed dance.

“That’s my cue to go.” 

You sit up and crawl off the trampoline gracelessly. 

“Wait.” He scrambles to the edge of the trampoline. “Your hair is all over the place.” 

A static shock travels from his fingertips to your neck as he reaches for your hair. You jump and let out an involuntary gasp.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, as he smooths down your hair with careful fingers. Your traitor heart skips a beat. 

Once he’s done, you tug his suit into place, just so no one gets the idea that either of you have been horizontal. 

“Maybe you want to wait a couple minutes before coming back?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“What will they say, if they see Mr. Worldwide Handsome coming back to the party with a nobody like me?” 

“You’re not a nobody.” He sighs and leans back anyway. “But you’re right. Sometimes I forget about all of that.”

You look back just once on your way back to the dance floor. Seokjin sprawls out on the trampoline, looking up at the stars again. 

Another wedding, the second in as many months. It’s that season of your life where everyone around you is getting married, having babies, and hitting all the milestones, and all you have to offer is your job as a stylist. Your old classmates think it’s glamorous, to work with celebrities all day, but seeing the sparkle of endless engagement rings makes you feel like you’re far behind. On top of all that, your mother called you to catch up that morning. Her words echo in your head, reminding you that you’re still single and not getting any younger. 

And to add insult to injury, you’ve been parked at the singles’ table. At least there’s a familiar face. Seokjin, seemingly friends with everyone you’ve ever known, is there too. You’re glad he’s around. Saves you the energy of painful small talk with a stranger. 

Once dinner ends, you escape into the grounds of the country mansion-turned-hotel. 

There’s no one at the pool, and you slip your heels off to put your feet in the water. You consider canceling your RSVP to the next four weddings you have this year as you watch the light reflect through the pool. It’s not doing great things for your mood, to have love shoved in your face like this. Like the whole world is happy except for you. You’re happy for your friend, of course, she deserves this just as much as the next person, but you can’t help but be jealous of the stupidest thing: she’ll actually get laid tonight.

You’re in the driest spell of your life, what with project after project at work, long hours on set, and a demanding boss who thinks you can do nothing right. You don’t even have time to shower and eat, let alone swipe on Tinder for a hook-up. 

“Good god, I need to get laid.” The words escape your mouth along with a world-weary sigh. 

“Does shouting it at the heavens work?” 

Your hand flies to your chest, and you let out a squeak of surprise that turns to laughter. It’s Seokjin, who’s found you again. He takes off his shoes and socks before joining you at the edge of the pool. 

He cups his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. “Good God, if you’re out there listening, I need to get laid, too! Thanks!” 

His antics bring a much-needed smile to your face. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when he’s around.

“Wait, you’re telling me Mr. Worldwide Handsome doesn’t fuck? Car Door Guy isn’t drowning in pussy?”

“What a crass way to put it.” He heaves out a world weary sigh of his own. “But yeah.” 

“Shit, if I was as famous as you, that’d be my preferred cause of death.” 

“Fame is the problem.” He pauses. “I didn’t know you were into women.” 

“Labels don’t fucking matter. I’m into whoever is hot and thinks I’m hot too.” You drag your feet through the water, watching as the ripples extend to the other side of the pool and back again to you. “Are you saying you’re too famous to fuck? Like you’re too good for us peasants?” 

He laughs, a sad, bitter laugh. “Sometimes I can’t tell. When someone is interested for me, or for their own fifteen minutes in the spotlight. Sex is great and all, but there’s only so many times one can wake up to someone that just wants picture evidence that you’ve fucked.” 

He says this with the weight of a dozen stories, untold. 

You place your hand on his, curling over the lip of the pool. 

“For what it’s worth, I’d go after you for that sweet, sweet ass rather than any type of public attention.” 

He scoffs, but flips his hand over and tangles his fingers with yours. 

“So you think I’m hot?” He looks at you, his joking tone belying the intense heat of his gaze. 

“It goes both ways, bud. You gotta think I’m hot too if this is going to work.” You try to match his light tone, but heat rises to your cheeks. 

“Beyond hot. Beautiful.” His thumb strokes circles across the back of your hand. 

“What about the reception?” 

Without hesitation, he jumps into the pool. Your breath catches in your throat as he rises from the water, wet shirt clinging to his defined chest. He pushes his wet hair away from his forehead. 

“Aw, damn it. I’m all wet now. How could I possibly go back to the reception?” 

A smile spreads on his face and you can't help but smile back. He holds out his hand in an invitation.

You take his outstretched hand and he pulls you in. 

Honey, I know you don’t want to talk about it but—

“Then why are you bringing it up, Mom?” 

I don’t want to see you alone, and besides, what am I supposed to do with my retirement if I don’t have grand babies to take care of?

“How you spend your retirement is your problem.” 

 I raised you, all my myself, and I worked so hard, you can’t do this one thing for me?

“Mom, you’re being unreasonable.” 

I just want to see you happy, sweetheart.

“And you think marriage and babies is the way to happiness? It wasn’t for you.” 

You regret the words as soon as they’re out of your mouth. There’s silence at the end of the line and, for a moment, you think she’s hung up.

You were the greatest joy in my life, honey. I wouldn’t have traded that for the world. 

The quiet conviction in her voice brings a lump to your throat. 

“I can’t talk about this anymore, Mom. I have to go. I’ll see you next week.”

You set the phone down beside you and pull your knees up to your chest. The city sparkles in the night, holiday decorations adding glitter to the view from your fire escape. The fire escape is the best thing about your apartment, and you spend as much time on it as the weather permits. 

Just as your joints start getting stiff in the chill, your phone buzzes. You almost don’t check it, expecting more guilt tripping from your mother, but it’s Seokjin. 

WWH [19:34]: want to grab a drink? 

It’s been over a year since you first hooked up, and it’s been going like this:

Every time Seokjin travels to your city for work, he’ll text you, for dinner, for drinks, really any excuse. The first time it happened, you met him at his hotel bar, and ended up in his room that night. The following night, he insisted on meeting you somewhere near yours and wound up staying the night at your place. Since then, you meet him somewhere close to home on his first or second night in town, and he stays at yours for the rest of his trip. 

You [19:37]: I didn’t know you were in town

You don’t mind. Even though your apartment is barely big enough for one, it’s nice to have company for a few days. He cooks, claiming he’s never home enough to keep fresh groceries at his place and that he misses his own cooking. You believe him, with his filming and promotion schedule for three different films. When his trip coincides with the farmer’s market a few blocks over, you go shopping together, takeout coffees in hand. He makes friends with each of the vendors and leaves you with at least a week’s worth of leftovers every time. 

WWH [19:38}: last minute press thing

When you’re in public, he keeps his distance, but when you’re in private, he holds you close. In the bedroom, in the kitchen, in the shower, on the sofa. Claims he doesn’t get enough genuine human touch in his line of work. You scoff, but let him cling. You don’t get enough human touch either. 

He admits once during those quiet moments after sex, with only the streetlights illuminating your room, that your place actually feels like a home.

You [19:40]: take me somewhere nice this time

He’s your boyfriend in everything but name. Two spare sets of clothes in his own drawer, a toothbrush that lives permanently next to yours. You even got each other a gift at Christmas, and he sent you chocolate and a gorgeous dahlia bouquet on Valentine’s Day. You’re not official though. So it always starts with a text. 

WWH [19:40]: car will be there in 20. dress nice. 

The streets are icy, slippery wet where your heels meet the concrete. The bar Seokjin took you to was indeed very nice, with fancy cocktails and even fancier small plates that didn’t amount to much of a dinner. You’re unsteady on your feet and it’s going to take something greasy and carb-y to sop up all the alcohol in your system. 

You’re looking for a taxi, or maybe something to eat; you’re not entirely sure. What you do know is that you’re moving forward, which is keeping you warm in the icy wind blowing down the city streets. 

As you step confidently forward, your heel skids out from under you and the only thing between your ass and the grimy sidewalk is Seokjin’s hand around your waist. 

“Wow. If this was a k-drama, they’d film this from like, fifty different angles.” 

He laughs and steadies you as you get your feet under you. “Maybe we’ll see the Subway ads floating around here somewhere.” 

“Ooh, Subway sounds so good right now.” 

His beauty doesn’t catch you off guard as much anymore, but now, with the wind ruffling his hair and the cold bringing a slight pink to his cheeks, you’re mesmerized. Your hand comes to caress his face, cold against the warmth of his skin. 

His hand covers yours as he looks into your eyes, something indescribable in his gaze doing funny things to your stomach.

“Marry me.”

“What?” You’re not sure you heard him correctly. 

“Will you marry me?” 

You laugh in his face. As far as you’re concerned, this is the best joke he’s ever made. You laugh so hard, you break away from his arms.

“Sure, why not? My mom already loves you. Maybe with a ring on my finger she’ll get off my back abut marriage and babies.” 

He accidentally met your mom a few months before when she showed up at your apartment building to surprise you for your birthday. Seokjin was graceful enough to treat her to a fancy day out on town. Of course, she melted for him and has asked after him every phone call since.

“Great! We’re engaged, then.”

“Ooooh, I’m a fianceeeeeeee.”

You wobble a bit as you do a little spin and he puts your hand in the crook of his arm to help your footing. You look at your left hand then, and notice something missing.

“But wait. How will other people know I’m a fiancée if I don’t have a ring on my finger?" You waggle your hand in his face. "How will I know not to fuck other people without a ring?” 

You don’t tell him you haven’t slept with anyone else for months now. 

“I’ll get you a ring.” 

“Okay yay!” You tuck your arm back in his but break away immediately as you catch a glimpse of the gleaming golden arches in the distance. “I! Want! Nuggets!” 

He calls you on a frosty Saturday afternoon to tell you he’s coming over for something important, that he wants to stay but can’t. He’s been shooting on location, and you haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks.

The trees have lost their leaves and the sun makes a weak attempt at heating up the city. You’re waiting at the top of the steps to your apartment building, debating whether or not to run in real quick to grab a more substantial coat. A large, black SUV pulls up, making the decision for you. 

Seokjin jumps out of the car, wearing a long camel-colored coat to ward off the bite in the air. He takes the steps up to the top of the stoop two at a time and reaches you quickly, his breath puffing up in the cold as he drops a kiss on your cheek. This is new, but not unwelcome. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“I can’t stay long, I have to get back to the airport soon, but I needed to deliver something.” 

“You could have sent somebody over.” 

He shakes his head. 

“I had to deliver this in person.”A ring box comes out of his pocket. He opens it to show you.“We’re engaged, right? You need a ring.” 

The ring nestled inside the box has a tanzanite stone framed with little diamonds. You’ve never been one to imagine your engagement ring, but this one is perfect. Delicate and beautiful. 

“Did you fly all the way here just for this? You could have waited a bit, I mean…” 

“I had a day off. Besides I wanted to see you.” He slides the ring on your left fourth finger and admires your hand. “There. I couldn’t until I wrapped. What if you had fucked someone else in the meantime?”

You wince a little at his words. You say such stupid things when you’re drunk. “You know I haven’t, and I wouldn’t.” 

He pulls you into a hug. You slide your hands around his waist inside his coat. 

“I know.” 

You want to stay wrapped in his embrace forever, his warmth shielding you from the cold, his warm, musky scent enveloping you. Too soon, he pulls back. Before he goes, he cups your face in his and pulls you into a kiss, sweet and tender. 

The paparazzi photos you see later make your heart ache. The two of you look so in love from the outside, like a real-life engaged couple should. 

Early the next morning, your phone rings. It’s your mom, wondering why she had to find out on the news that you were engaged?! Saying that he’s such a good man. And that she’s so happy for you. You don’t want to tell her you don’t think it’s real. 

You don’t tell anyone you’re afraid it’s just a joke. Not even Seokjin himself the next time you see him. 

He deviates from the routine, but only in that he comes straight to your apartment from the airport, no more pretense of asking you out for a drink before he stays a week. 

So you stay in this limbo, happy to pretend you’re engaged. It’s easy to pretend to be a happy couple when he’s around. Now when you go to the farmers’ market together, you can hold hands with him, paparazzi and passerby phones be damned. You don’t know if it’s real or not, but you enjoy it, and let yourself sink into the fantasy. 

When he’s not around, it’s harder to convince yourself, but you catch yourself smiling openly at your phone every time he texts you. And he texts you about all sorts of things, about his annoying coworkers, about a potential project he’s excited about, about what he wants to cook for you next time you see him. You tell him you miss having his cooking skills around. (It’s as far as you’ll go to say you miss him). 

The months pass like this.

At the end of spring, your mom starts to not-so-subtly hint that she can’t wait to meet Seokjin’s parents at your engagement party. You say you don’t have anything planned, that you don’t even have a wedding date in mind because you both have been so busy. You don’t tell her you haven’t even talked about the wedding with him at all. That you’re afraid that he’ll say once and for all that this is just a thing for convenience, to get the weight of the public’s eye off his back. 

He hears your end of the conversation one late-May afternoon. 

“Let’s do it.” His parents have been nagging him too. “Our families need to meet eventually.”

“How are we even going to plan this? I have a million things going on at work and so do you. When will we even do it?”  

“Just give me a list of who you’d want to be at the wedding, and what dates you have free in September, and the planner will take care of the rest.” 

The mention of the wedding has adrenaline pumping through your veins. It's the first time the word "wedding" has been uttered between you.

“How nice it is to have money.” You try to keep your tone light, cool.

“What’s mine is yours. You know that, right?” 

He’s standing across the living room by the big window, framed a golden sunset halo. You can’t quite make out his face, but you hear the weight of his sincerity in his voice. The bigness of it all scares you. 

“Time to buy a house and invest in the stock market, I guess.”

He just gives you a slow shrug. “If that’s what you want…” 

“I’ll look on Zillow and get back to you with estimates.”

You excuse yourself to the bathroom, and he doesn’t bring it up again when you come back. He just plays the movie and hugs you close like he always does. 

The planner makes it all happen. Invitations with hand-written addresses by an expert calligrapher get sent out, a venue overlooking the ocean gets booked. All you have to do is fill out a simple form the planner sends you. You pick your favorite flower, a color scheme, and your favorite alcohol for a signature cocktail. She even takes care of your dress, says you’ll have options ready on site along with a hair and makeup team. Money indeed. 

Summer passes in a blur and you almost forget you even have an engagement party. The only reason you don’t book in a work thing on that date is because Seokjin sends you a calendar invite for the party, blocking out the entire day. 

You pull up to the event alone, nose in your phone. A work emergency kept you at home sending emails all morning. Seokjin sent a car for you, told you he’d meet you at the venue later. You’re so engrossed in answering a nasty email from your boss’s boss that you don’t look up until you’re fully inside. It’s not what you expected. 

You thought there would be tables for guests, with a dance floor and maybe a little stage for musicians or a DJ. Instead, you’re standing halfway down an aisle, rows of chairs on either side of you. Dahlias, just like you asked, decorate the space, with fairy lights twinkling gently around the blooms. There’s an arch at the end of the aisle on a raised dais. 

You turn at the sound of your name. 

Seokjin stands at the entrance, looking more nervous than when he had to host an award show. 

“What’s all this?” you ask. You think you know the answer, but you need him to say it for you to believe it. 

“Our wedding. If you want it to be.” 

“What do you mean if I want it to be? This looks like a done deal.” You’re shaking a little, in the frozen stage of fight or flight. 

He approaches you like one would a frightened animal. 

“I mean exactly what I said. This could be our wedding, if you want it to be. We can change this back to an engagement party if you don’t want to. It’s up to you.” He takes his hands in yours. Red creeps up his neck to his ears. “I know you took it as a joke when I asked you to marry me, but I was serious. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

You look into his eyes, so tender and full of love, and know you have two choices. 

“I know marriage makes you nervous, because of what happened with your parents, and because you changed the subject every time I tried to bring it up. So I thought I would surprise you, show you how serious I am about you. But I can wait. We can change it all back if it’s too much, too soon. The staff are on standby.” 

Reverting back to an engagement party is not an option. Because you may lose him while you try to sort your shit out. He might walk away. And that would crush you. Because it’s like you’re missing a limb when he’s not around. Because his laugh is the best sound you’ve ever heard. Because, you finally admit to yourself, you love him. The way he’s looking at you, so unsure but full of hope, your walls crumble.

“It’d be a shame to put all their hard work to waste.” 

His smile rivals the sun. Your vision goes fuzzy as your eyes fill with tears. 

“I’m not changing my last name.” Your voice cracks. 

He brushes the tears from your cheeks, catching them as they fall. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“And I don’t have any vows written.” 

“I had them put some standard ones in your room. You can choose whatever you like. Or no vows, it’s up yo you.” 

“You thought of everything.” 

“I tried to.” He kisses you once, twice. “Now go and get ready. Guests will start arriving in a couple hours.” 

“Oh my god, I still have to choose a dress.” You use your palms to wipe your face and let out a watery laugh. “My mom’s gonna kill me for this. She’ll die of joy then come back to kill me.” 

He laughs and takes your hand to lead you toward the dressing room. You almost don’t want to leave him now, but he pushes you in the door with a little smile. The hair and makeup team are waiting for you, but you remember something at the last second. 

“Seokjin!” He’s halfway down the hall, but turns back at your voice. You run to him and wrap him in a hug. “I almost forgot. I wanted to tell you I love you, too.” 

His arms tighten around your waist and he buries his face in your neck. 

“I know, love. I know.” 

A/N: This fic came from a wild dream where–surprise!–I was getting married to Seokjin. I had to write it down, but it came across super creepy outside of dream logic lmao. Seeing it written down reminded me of all those AITA posts about people getting surprise weddings from toxic partners, which was not the feeling I had in the dream, so this is the result of that. Not included in the fic but featured in the dream: a coworker being a total hater about it, the rest of BTS (sorry).

©sowoozoo-7 2024

Please do not copy or repost. I do not crosspost anywhere else

[bloodylullaby]

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Word Count: 2114

Author's Note: Enjoy all the fluff

Life has been relentlessly knocking you down again. It seems like every corner you turn, there's a new challenge waiting to trip you up. Whether it’s the daily grind of dealing with difficult people who test your patience and resilience or the frustratingly mundane obstacles like hitting every red light on your commute, it feels like the universe conspires against you with a vengeance. These constant setbacks, big and small, accumulate, weighing heavily on your spirit and making each day a battle to stay optimistic and keep pushing forward. Despite your efforts to maintain a positive outlook, the persistent barrage of annoyances and hardships leaves you feeling worn out and defeated, as if you’re fighting a losing battle against an unseen force determined to test your limits.

These long, exhausting days have left you severely burned out. By the end of my workday, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the wall. Later, you’ll lie in the dark, gazing up at the ceiling, feeling overwhelming dread. This cycle perpetuates itself, leading to even more disappointment and disillusionment. The activities that you used to enjoy in your free time no longer bring you joy. Your creativity has ground to a halt, replaced by a paralyzing self-doubt that makes you question whether anything you create is good enough. The burnout has drained your energy and eroded your confidence and sense of purpose, leaving you feeling disconnected from the things that once brought you happiness.

Your isolation starts to intensify. Even though you’ve never been outgoing and preferred a night in over a night out, it keeps worsening. You haven't talked to friends or family in weeks, leading to the gnawing thoughts that you don’t matter. This isolation exacerbates your struggle to keep taking your medication—the very thing that helps you function like a normal human being. It helps your body produce the right chemicals so you can function and enjoy life. But what’s the point of enjoying life if everything you do only leads to more exhaustion? The loneliness, coupled with a lack of communication with loved ones, deepens your sense of despair, making it increasingly difficult to find any motivation or reason to continue.

Today has been no different for you. With a day off from work, you’ve been wrapped in a blanket like a burrito, mindlessly playing on your Switch. Your phone has been blowing up with messages from Noah, but you’ve been ignoring him, too drained to respond. You read his texts but don’t reply, and it’s starting to get to him. He’s used to your occasional isolation spells, but it’s gnawing at him now. Typically, you get back to his texts by the end of the day or the next day when you’re going through a rough patch. But this time, you haven’t answered him for a week. The guilt of leaving him in the dark only adds to your overwhelming sense of dread and exhaustion.

There was a knock on the door that made you freeze. You hadn’t invited anyone over, so the thought of someone knocking was nerve-wracking. Slowly, you get up, making as little noise as possible, and avoid all the windows to stay undetected. Looking through the peephole, you see that it’s Noah. With a confused look, you open the door and are greeted by his smiling face.

"Hey," he says softly, holding up a bag. "I brought some things for us to do today."

With a soft smile, you step aside to welcome him in. He heads to the living room coffee table and sets the bag down. Sitting on the couch, he pats the seat next to him and waits for you to join him before pulling items out of the bag. The first thing that he pulls out is two spa headbands. One is black goat horns, and the other is white kitten ears. Next, he pulls out face masks, nail polish, and a manicure set. He turns and gives you a broad smile. 

With a soft smile, you step aside to welcome him in. He heads to the living room coffee table and sets the bag down. Sitting on the couch, he pats the seat next to him and waits for you to join him before pulling items out of the bag. The first things he pulls out are two spa headbands—one with black goat horns and the other with white kitten ears. Next, he reveals face masks, nail polish, and a manicure set. He turns and gives you a broad smile.

“I thought we could have ourselves a little indoor spa day today,” he says.

The gesture touches your heart deeply. What did you do for life to grant you such a kind and wonderful human being in your life? Noah has always been the light at the end of the tunnel for you, but today, he is shining extra brightly. He puts the cat ears spa headband on you and the other on himself. When it comes time to put the face masks on, you watch him struggle to apply them evenly, spreading them all over his face and dropping a glob or two on his shirt. You smile to yourself as you put yours on.

Once everything is cleaned up, Noah sets up the manicure kit with the different colors of nail polish neatly lined up in a row. He takes your left hand and tends to your nails as you gently rest your head on his shoulder. You sigh in contentment, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over you as you listen to him hum and watch him tenderly take care of you. Each stroke of the polish brush feels like a small act of love, reinforcing your bond and reminding you of how lucky you are to have Noah in your life. Time seems to stand still in this moment of intimacy and care as you bask in the warmth of his presence and the simple pleasure of being pampered by someone who means the world to you.

As he switches to your right hand, he gently kisses the inside of your wrist before tending to your nails. You tenderly kiss his temple in response, prompting him to look up and smile at you. A slight giggle escapes you as you see him wearing his face mask and headband. Returning his focus to pampering you, you can't resist the urge to capture this precious moment. Grabbing your phone, you snap a picture, immortalizing the scene of love and care. With a smile playing on your lips, you set the photo as the background on your phone, cherishing the memory forever.

Once he finishes tending to your hands, he looks at you with pleading puppy-dog eyes, begging you to reciprocate the gesture and pamper him in return. With a soft smile playing on your lips, you reach out for his left hand, your fingers tracing delicate patterns across his skin as you begin attending to his cuticles. There's a tender rhythm to your movements, a dance of intimacy and trust as you gently push back the cuticles, ensuring every detail is tended to with precision and care. When needed, you delicately trim them, your touch feather-light yet purposeful.

Moving on, you take up the file, the soft sound filling the air as you expertly shape his nails. Each stroke of the file is deliberate, sculpting his nails with finesse as you bring out their natural shine. With a gentle touch, you then proceed to buff them, smoothing out any imperfections and leaving them gleaming with a healthy sheen. You paint each nail meticulously, ensuring every stroke is flawless and every curve is accentuated. After completing your task, you step back to allow him a moment to admire your handiwork. Impressed by the results, he leans in to plant a grateful kiss on your forehead, expressing his thanks.

He gently reaches out, his fingers tracing a tender path along your cheek before brushing against his own. "I think it's time to wash these off," he declares softly, his voice hinting of playfulness. You nod in agreement, and together, you go to the bathroom.

Once inside, he wraps his arms around you from behind, enveloping you in a warm embrace. With a mischievous twinkle, he reaches for his phone and captures the moment. You effortlessly remove your mask, but Noah struggles, getting some of it in his eye. You gently assist him, ensuring his comfort as you help him wash away the residue. Once his face is clean and dried, he gestures toward the bathtub.

"Wanna take a bubble bath together?" he asks softly, his voice carrying a hint of anticipation. You nod in agreement, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you watch him start the bath. With a sense of purpose, he moves to your sink, retrieving a container of Epsom salt. With careful measure, he pours it into the steaming water, the scent of relaxation filling the air as the salts dissolve, ready to soothe away the day's tensions. 

Once everything is prepared, you both begin to undress, shedding the layers of the day's weariness. Noah eases himself into the warm embrace of the tub, settling comfortably into the soothing water. You follow suit, slipping into the bath and settling between his legs. He starts to massage your shoulders. 

“You know I love and care about you, right?" Noah asked softly. You hummed in response, feeling lost in his touch. "Just remember, I'm here to catch you when you fall," he continued gently, kissing your shoulder. His words touched you deeply, and you felt a swell of emotion, tears forming in your eyes.

"Then maybe Hell ain’t so bad after all," you sang quietly with a small smile. He responded by wrapping his arms around your shoulders, gently pulling you back to lean against his chest. He kissed tenderly on the top of your head, his affection palpable. You both lingered in the bath for a while, basking in the warmth and comfort of each other's presence, letting the world outside fade away.

Noah helped you out of the bath as the water began to cool and gently dried you off. Taking your hand, he led you to the bedroom and seated you on the bed. He then rummaged through your dresser, selecting some comfortable lounging clothes for you. After you finished getting dressed, Noah positioned you between his legs and began to brush your hair. His touch was incredibly gentle, and he checked in with you over the slightest of tugs, ensuring your comfort and showing his deep affection and care.

Noah's gentle attention with the hairbrush gradually calms you, each stroke soothing and reassuring. After a few moments, he sets the brush aside and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Do you feel better?" he asks softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. You nod, leaning back into his embrace, feeling a profound sense of peace. The room is filled with a comforting silence, only broken by the gentle sound of your breaths.

"How about we watch a movie?" he suggests, his tone light and warm.

You agree, and he quickly sets up a cozy spot on the bed with blankets and pillows. As he puts on one of your favorite movies, you both snuggle under the covers, your head resting against his chest. Throughout the movie, Noah's gentle touches continue, his hands occasionally brushing your arm, back, or hair, ensuring you are still comfortable and feeling okay. His constant, tender reassurances make you feel cherished and safe, enhancing the moment's warmth.

As the movie progresses, you both become more relaxed, sinking deeper into the cozy atmosphere. The comfort of his touch and the familiarity of your favorite movie create a serene ambiance. After the movie ends, Noah turns off the TV, and the room becomes tranquil. He looks down at you with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the affection he feels.

"Ready for bed?" he asks gently.

You nod, feeling a peaceful drowsiness settle over you. Noah shifts slightly, helping you get under the covers properly before he joins you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close so you’re nestled against his chest. With the lights dimmed, the room is enveloped in a soothing darkness. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body lull you into a state of complete relaxation.

"Goodnight," he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

"Goodnight," you reply softly, feeling safe and content in his embrace. Slowly, you drift off to sleep, surrounded by his love and the comforting sense of being together.

[krysalla]

rack of his / pound of flesh

thomas hewitt x f!reader

word count: 5.1k

read on ao3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, cannibalism mention, blood, pregnancy mention, baby trapping (?), bad sex :(

It’s one of those insufferable days. The clouds are brewing in the sky with the sun still blazing behind them, creeping its heat into the moisture in the air. Even with the clouds, nothing stops the temperature from rising. What is it that they say about the frog in the pot? If you slowly turn the heat up, the frog won’t notice that it’s being boiled to death until it’s too late and its muscles are cooked away until they are of no use to him anymore. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day, you would share that same fate thanks to the Texas summers. Though, maybe it would be your own fault, you choose to be outside, rain or shine, to work the laundry. It’s easier for you, even if your hair and clothing are soaked in sweat and your whole body burns from exhaustion. You get to be on your own with only Luda Mae’s eyes glaring out the kitchen window, trying to drill a hole in the back of your head. 

Out here on the back porch, there is no bickering, no staticky TV to set your head ablaze, no one to answer to and no one to make cruel, lecherous comments about you. Sitting on the porch swing, a bucket of water between your feet, the chirping of the birds and your own singing is as close to paradise as you can get in the Hewitt farm. They all sequester themselves inside, hiding themselves away from the rest of the world in this decaying house. Out here, you think of your life before. You wonder how long it took for your mother to report you missing when you didn’t show up on her doorstep like you had planned with her. Has your sister noticed a gap in between her ribs, like you do, where you always kept a piece of her? You can’t remember what color your kitchen cabinets were or if your bedroom window faced east or west. You can’t remember the title of your thesis paper. Maybe you didn’t decide on one before you took off for the holidays. Did your advisor like your last submission?

It’s easier not to think of before and focus on the now.

You have a garden that you keep and a perpetual workload of laundry to do.

You’ve been working on one of Tommy’s shirts for the last five minutes, trying to rub the blood out of the cream fabric, but no matter how much you scrub or how much soap you use, the stain just won’t come out. You’d been hoping to save this one, it’s his best shirt. You sigh and drop it into the tub with clean water. It’s hopeless to even try and make anyone in this family look presentable. A sheepskin does little to make a wolf look friendly.

“Baby, come ‘ere!” Luda Mae shouts from the kitchen.

“Coming, mama.” You wring out the water in Tommy’s shirt and lay it flat on the seat next to you. 

You heft yourself off the swing and make your way inside. 

The air is just as thick, heavy and miserable and dank as it is outside. At least outside, there was a breeze. The air in the house is stagnant and reeks of sweat and blood and the scum of years worth of build up when Luda Mae had felt too hopeless to clean, before the Hewitt’s had come into their own. Now, it seems as though there is no way to get rid of the filth. No matter how hard you scrub the walls or how much bleach you use, the yellow tint won’t wipe away.

Luda Mae stands with her back to the counter, a large knife in hand. Behind her, you can just make out a cutting board and vegetables pillaged from your small garden. So much for a bountiful harvest. She pulled the potatoes and carrots from the ground too soon.

“Almost done with the laundry?”

You wipe your hands down the apron wrapped around your waist. A nail snags on a loose thread. Your hands are all dried and eaten up from the detergent. “Yes, mama. Just gotta finish wringing out the water and put ‘em out to dry.”

“Don’t bother putting them out on the line. A storm’s coming in. You’ll have to string them up in the family room.”

You tighten your jaw and quickly glance out the doorway leading to the room. Monty and Hoyt are out there watching TV. They make it so much harder to get anything done, especially Hoyt. Monty for the most part leaves you alone unless you block his view of the television or upset that pitiful dog that he keeps on his lap, but you can feel his eyes on you nonetheless. Hoyt will get in your face for no reason at all, just to scare you for his own kicks. 

You don’t school your twisted expression fast enough. She catches the contempt curling on your lip.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Luda Mae smiles with that wolf grin, laying out her trap for you.

“Nothing, mama.”

She comes close to you, knife still in hand, and even though you’re taller than her, she still has the presence to have you shrinking in on yourself. This little, old lady has just as much of a proclivity to violence as the men. She’s mean and cruel and you can’t help but wonder if she’s always been this way.

“You think you too good for this family, girl? Don’t insult me with ‘em lies of yours. All I gotta do is snap my fingers and my boys will fall right in line. You think you’re here because of my boy? I am the be all and end all of this house. Just one word and you’ll be next on the serving platter. No matter how much my boy thinks he loves you, you ain’t family.”

You hang your head like a scolded child, “‘M sorry, mama.” 

She coos and sets down her carving knife on the counter. It’s a complete one-eighty that leaves your head spinning and stomach knotting. Luda Mae holds your face in her hands and tilts your head back to face her. Gone is that terrifying look in her eyes. Now, she treats you with the tenderness of a mother with her child.

“I know you’re sorry, baby, but you gotta know the way it works. Don’t want to lose the only daughter I ever had.” Luda Mae runs her hands down your shoulders, over your arms, squeezes your hands. She can be very affectionate with you when the mood strikes her. Your skin crawls as she clicks her tongue. She chucks you chin. “Now, give mama a hug.”

You wrap your arms around her back and push your face into her shoulder. You can feel the sting of tears, hot and angry, in your eyes and you will them to go away. You hold onto her tighter and she rocks you from side to side on your feet, cooing and shushing you with a spindly hand stroking over your hair.

“I love you, baby,” she says when she breaks the hug.  

“I love you too, mama.”

She kisses your cheek. “Now, go bring Tommy in from the barn. I’ll have dinner done soon.”

“Yes, mama.”

---

Anxiety is coiling deep in your stomach and you’ve only got until you reach the barn to shake it off. No matter how much he might worry and fuss over you, you know Luda Mae is right, at the end of the day if she wanted you dead, Tommy would follow her orders. He is a dutiful son after all and family–blood– comes first. Tommy is dangerous, but not to you, not without Luda Mae pulling his strings. There’s no way you make it out of this alive without her complete and total confidence or until she is rotting six feet deep.

What bond can compare with a parent and their child?

You look up at the sky. Luda Mae is right, there is a storm coming. The clouds are darker now and the breeze has started to pick up. 

The barn doors are wide open. It’s dark in the barn, cluttered with rusted over farm tools intermingled with suitcases and mountains of car parts and an engine that someone in the family had the intention to put back together again. It looks better than the last time you were in here– though it was much darker then. There aren’t so many hiding places. You wonder if Tommy has found your suitcase yet.

“Tommy?” you call out. 

You hear a rustling from the back of the barn followed only after a few short moments by Tommy and his heavy footfalls. He looks subdued, as close to looking happy as he gets, his shoulders are relaxed and his pace lazy as he makes his way to you. You watch him carefully. As much as you might hate it, you care about the man that has taken you captive. It’s wrong and you know that deep down, once you break free from this family, you will no longer have any tenderness for him. He’s treated you well enough since you stopped fighting every second you could. He keeps an eye out for you, always keeping you out of trouble, and when he has no work to do, trails after you like a lost puppy imprinting on the first kind soul to reach out to him.

There’s one other way to make it out alive.

You know what your saving grace will be, what will solidify you as a Hewitt and give you the reins to control Tommy, to end the ever present danger he presents to you. A child. You will give him a family of his own, one of his making and one that will come willingly. You will give him everything he has been denied. You will become mother and wife, madonna and whore, prey and predator. Luda Mae will have her reckoning.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You reach up on your toes to press a kiss to the leather covering his cheek. “Look how much work you got done. Very impressive.”

He huffs, quick and short, and bows his head in an almost bashful manner. You hem and haw and lay it thick with compliments as you walk around the mostly cleared out area. You really play it up for him and maybe just a little bit for yourself just so you can glean a smile out of him, no matter how small, and make blood flow to his cheeks. It will serve as an opening.

There’s a smudge of dirt on his forehead and that just won’t do. You lick your thumb. He gently swats at your hand, grunting low in displeasure, but you pay it no mind— he’s only pretending not to like your gentle fretting. 

“Oh, quit that bellyachin’ of yours. I wanna be able to see that handsome face of yours.” That earns you a small victory. You catch the crinkles at the outer corners of his eyes, right above the cut of his mask. His guard is down.

The wind picks up outside. You can hear the drops of light rainfall. 

“Do you love me, Tommy?” you ask quietly. You brush his hair out of his face, clearing up his eyes so you can see his answer. 

Your question takes him off guard, shoulders stiff and eyes wide. He looks around the barn, looking for something, someone. The Hewitts don’t talk much about before when you’re around, something you will never be privy to, but you can guess why he’s looking around for someone to come out from the thick, wooden beams to laugh and point and mock at him. Big, stupid, ugly animal. He’s not the average man and in a small town, you can only imagine not fitting into the norm can only have meant one thing for him: cruelty.

“It’s just you and me, Tommy.” You look conspiratorially around the barn with a sly smile. “I love you. Don’t you love me too?”

His eyes go wide, and you’re sure he believes you when he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of your hand. Maybe one day it will be true. For now you’re playing a game of survival. He pushes your hands away from his face and pulls you by your wrists until your chest touches his. Large hands pet over your back, your shoulders, down to the wide breadth of your hips and back up over your face. He creeps over you like a spider. He must be craving this, he’s never been particularly touchy with you, no thanks to Luda Mae who watches you like a hawk when the two of you are together. I won’t have any hussies in my home, she said to you when she stripped you bare of the clothing you arrived in. She threw your denim shorts and tank top and anything else in your suitcase she deemed inappropriate into the fire. 

You take a deep breath and slide your hands down to his chest and push him away from you. There is no force on earth that could get Thomas to move unless he allows it. He takes a small step back and whines, brow drawing down in hurt betrayal. You ignore his whining and make your way over to the cluttered workbench. The table top surface is a little too high for you to be able to push yourself up on, but you’re sure Tommy will be able to help you out here. 

You pick up the edge of your dress and pull it up, giving him a view of your leg, and crook the index finger of your free hand to him. “Why don’t you show me how much?”

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen as he follows the curve of your calf. The display you make of yourself makes him look hungry. You catch his tongue peek out from his lips and lick over them, there’s a sharp glint of teeth in there too. His steps are heavy as he approaches you and your stomach turns over. There’s no going back after this. You are making a permanent home in the belly of the beast. He won’t let you go after this, not when he will have everything he has been denied– love, affection, a warm, wet cunt to stick his cock in. You may not escape, but it will guarantee survival, especially if the fruits of your labor begin to show.

His hands fall on your hips and he lifts you clear off the ground. You shriek, holding tight to his shoulders. You’d been expecting it and yet it still surprised you. The strength of his arms give you something no man has been able to do for you. Even after he sets you on the table, you still cling to him, heart pattering in your chest from the anxiety of being dropped. He heaves you up as if you weigh nothing to him. 

He seems pleased with himself. 

It’s gotten so warm, it’s crept under your skin, crawling throughout your body.

You grab the wrist of his left hand and bring his fingers to your mouth. He tastes like sweat and grime. You lap your tongue around his index and middle finger, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. You suck and and suck, and you can feel saliva falling from the corner of your mouth as you work his fingers. It slides down his fingers, into the creases of his palm and to his wrist where your hand wraps around him.

“C’mon, big boy.” You suck in a breath and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “Show me how bad you need it.”

He grabs your thighs, his short nails bite into the fat of your thighs and he pries them apart, pushes himself further into your space, crowding you until you’re overwhelmed with him, hips aching as you accommodate his sheer size. Anything you were going to say, even if you could work out a word, is snatched from you when you catch his heady gaze, eyes dark and unwavering, waiting for any slight movement or any tell of yours.

You force his hand between your legs, fixing his fingers beneath your panties and rock against him. You moan loud and exaggerated, just to break him out of whatever spell you’ve got him under and get him to make a move.

He curls his fingers into the crotch of your panties and yanks at them. He tugs your underwear off, the cotton stretched out and the elastic useless. It gets caught around the tops of your thighs and Tommy manhandles you, moving your body like a doll to pull the offending garment down your legs and flip your skirt up for his own viewing pleasure.

You don’t have time to scold him. Underwear is invaluable around here, especially pairs that fit. Tommy drops down onto his knees and lands with a loud thud. It’s the last thing you expected of Tommy– you had a suspicion he really wouldn’t know what to do except to ram himself into you from behind like animals do. He must have seen this on one of the many gutter trash pornos Hoyt has on video, the fucking pervert.

There is no technique or finesse to what he’s doing. He just tears into you with teeth and tongue. He’s making a sloppy mess of you. 

You take the reins, knotting your hand in his hair and pulling him back from your cunt. “Fuck, just a little less teeth, Tommy.”

You push his head back into you. He listens. He drools against you, the only source of wetness that you’re sure you will need in time. You’re too stiff, too on edge to feel anything. There’s no grace in his movements, his tongue completely misses your clit and his lips are too rough against you. 

You grip his hair as hard as possible and yank him away. “That’s enough. I need you.”

With one hand, he does his belt and tugs his pants down enough to free his cock, and the other to pull your neckline down to expose your breasts. You look down at him. Your heart skips a beat and your lungs struggle for air. It’s a fucking beast, a lead pipe that will split you in two. You’ll die before you even get a chance to see your plan through. 

There’s no consideration on his end or he simply doesn’t know. He pushes into you with no warning and you cry out. The wind washes out the sound. 

You feel like you’re on fire, burning from the inside out with how he stretches you open. The pace he sets is brutal beyond belief. You lean forward, one arm draped loosely around his shoulder and push your face into his neck. It hurts with the minimal lubrication you’ve got, just his messy display of eating you out. You try to smother your grunts of pain against the thick column of his neck, you close your eyes and clench your jaw, trying to find anything pleasurable in this act. There’s nothing you can do now.

He doesn’t sense your discomfort, just continues pushing through it. He pulls you closer, big hands pawing at your back, fingers catching in the fabric of your dress, before he remembers your chest is exposed. His hands come circling around and even his hands are not big enough to hold your breasts in full. You look down at the flesh spilling out between his fingers and you moan. The sight turns you on more than it should.

The way he looks, hungry and wanting more, makes you act. You tear the leather mask from his face, your nails scratch his cheeks from the force of you fitting your fingers under the mask. He grunts. His face is ruddy and pockmarked from both his skin condition and his own self mutilation, his nose rotting away. His brow is heavy and thick and his eyes the darkest shade of brown you’ve ever seen. He’s beautiful and your heart lurches in your chest when the thought comes tumbling through you. It’s sick and you lash out against him, this is all his fault and you will make him pay.

You lay into him and bite down on his shoulder. Hard. Warmth overflows in your mouth, the tang of iron on your tongue and a bit of flesh stuck between your teeth. You smile into the wound you inflicted on him and lap at the blood pouring out of him. You’ve gotten your pound of flesh from him. 

He fumes, glaring down at you with a deep frown set into what is left of his lips and snarls, showing off the glint of yellowed, sharp teeth. You push your fingers into the bite you gifted him with, collecting the blood and smear his over his mouth, fearing no repercussions as he nibbles on the finger that breeches his mouth. He could very well bite it off, but he won’t. He won’t bite because to Tommy you’re family now and family ain’t meat. Meat is mean and angry. Meat is filth and stink and lesser than. Meat is a corpse wasted on a walking, talking sack of shit. He loves you and being loved makes you family. You are family, so you are better than meat.

He picks up his pace. The sound of flesh smacking is almost too much. You can feel yourself grow wetter and feel the ease he thrusts with. You choke out a moan. He pushes you down by your shoulder onto the messy workbench. Something digs into the middle of your back. You squirm against it, but he pays you no mind. He is busy positioning you exactly how he wants— your ass close to the edge of the bench, your legs wrapped around his waist, his weight resting on his forearms, leaving no room for you to escape. As if you could. 

Outside, the rain begins to pour with fervor. 

It’s all starting to become too much. His weight, the heat, the thick of him splitting you open. You clench down, hoping to encourage him to finish. You can’t take it any longer. There’s no room to breathe beneath him, what little air you can manage is punched back out of you with each thrust of his cock. The guilt and fear rearing its ugly head again. It’s been too long, you need him out of you, off of you. You dig your nails into the flesh of his back, scratching as hard as you can, leaving red welting lines down the planes of his shoulders. He grunts louder. He likes it, you think. 

This is sick, this shouldn’t be happening. You should be at home bickering with your roommates about who’s turn it is to do the dishes or tucked away in the library, scouring through the library catalog to find just the right book for your thesis. You would have already graduated if Tommy hadn’t yanked you by the back of your shirt out of your car. Your future was bright and full of potential and now you’re here, crushed under the weight of a man who kills without remorse, trapped by a woman who wants a daughter but will not value you the same as a son, and planning a pregnancy that will inexplicable tie you to this family, to this chapter in your life until death. You cry out.

He comes soon after and you feel disgusting.

He pulls out and his spend leaks out of you onto the dirt. You wipe your tears away and piece yourself back together into the character of hopelessly in love with the man who has taken your life from you. There’s no time to feel sorry for yourself. 

You grab your ruined panties from beside you and clean yourself up as well as you can. 

His blood has started to coagulate around your bite. He gingerly puts his button up over it, careful not to disturb the bite mark and start the bleeding over again. The last thing you need is Luda Mae questioning why he’s bleeding and what exactly you two got up to in this rundown barn.

Thomas offers you his hand, ready to help you down off the workbench, but you press your dirty underwear into his palm instead. He takes them eagerly, stuffing them into his back pocket. He’ll sniff at them later, keep them under his pillow and when he finally can’t smell you on the fabric, he’ll finally give it back to you for washing. It’s not the first time he’s hidden a pair of your used panties around for his own private pleasure. You’d found your blue panties mixed in with his clothing. The fabric was stiff and coated in white.

You brace your hands against the edge of the bench but before you can push off, his hands encircle your hips, gently lifting you up from the bench to avoid scraping the back of your thighs or your ass along the wood, and sets you down on the ground. His hands pet over you again, mussing up your hair in an attempt to smooth it, his fingers too big and gentle touch unpracticed. His fingers get caught in your hair and he frowns. You pull him apart from the nest he’s made in your hair with delicacy.

Are you supposed to hate him or love him? He’s the reason you’re here, why you are under the constant threat of butchery, but he treats you with such care even after he destroys you.

“C’mon, your mama will be wondering where we went off to,” you murmur.

The sky has turned dark blue, almost black, with heavy storm clouds. Hail the size of nickels and rain pelts down from above you—it takes only a moment before your dress is completely soaked. Lightning splits open the sky. The storm rages, wind blowing so hard it sends the rain horizontally. 

Tommy looks down at you, the skin around his eyes crinkling, and he presses his forehead against yours. You close your eyes. It’s so nice to be treated like glass after such rough handling. He takes your hand in his and your heart shatters. Why are you letting a few gentle touches turn you upside down? 

You are guided back to the Hewitt residence but the light flooding out of the kitchen window.

Luda Mae is full of accusations when you come back through the door, her eyes narrowed at you–always the first to be blamed. “What took you so long?” 

Under the weight of her stare, you feel like she knows exactly what happened, like she can see it on your face. You feel something trickle down your legs. You’re not sure if it’s rain water or cum. You hope the rain has washed away the scent of sex and sweat on your skin. 

You let go of Tommy’s hand and duck your head in supplication to Luda Mae. “Sorry, mama. Tommy was showing me all the hard work he did today.” 

“That so?” Luda Mae turns to Tommy and her whole demeanor changes. She smiles so wide and reaches up to cup his face. “You’re such a good boy, Tommy.”

“Go on and set the table, baby,” she directs you. “Let Monty and Hoyt know it’s time to eat. After that you can finish hanging the laundry. You gotta finish your chores if you wanna eat.”

You breathe deeply before giving her your best smile, “Yes, mama.”

“Now you go and sit down, Tommy. It’ll only be a minute.”

---

You’ve long stopped thinking about the implications of this child’s conception, it’s less than moral reasoning. They will not be born out of want, but of need for your own survival and assurance of your status as a Hewitt. You will have a leg up for giving Thomas a child and Luda Mae a grandchild. While it might not provide you with the status of matriarch, you will hold more sway over Thomas. Besides, Luda Mae can’t live forever. Once they are all gone, it will be easier. You will take the child with you and hope that they are young enough to forget about the Texas heat and the stench of blood.

Tommy presented you with a ring not long after that day in the barn. It didn’t fit right, nothing here does. It hangs around your neck on a delicate gold chain. Hoyt had hooted and hollered and went out, drunk as a skunk, with his shotgun and shot off two rounds. Luda Mae had been as happy as a clam–her boy was finally getting everything he deserved.

You wear the ring, biding your time. 

Luda Mae has let you move into the same room together. Privacy has given you more chances to try for this hypothetical child.

You wash out the blood in your underwear in the sink. It will catch one day and when that day comes, you will no longer be at the bottom of the food chain. You will be a prized bitch for breeding. What an honor to carry on the Hewitt name! 

You will suffer the sickness, the distortion of your body both temporary and permanent. You will endure hours of labor, blood and mucus membranes spilling out from you by the buckets, the shifting of bones and tearing of skin for a child that will come out too big for your body. You will put yourself through the wringer for just a taste of the power that will come from it.

Tommy has no idea about your intentions. It’s sweet almost how he doesn’t sense what you're doing and you almost feel guilty for using him this way, letting him soak up all the physical attention he’d been denied by other women, but he will be overjoyed at the results. Tommy will be a good father. He will teach them how to pluck a chicken clean, how to suck the marrow out of a bone, the proper way to cut an artery to drain an animal of blood, how to use every piece of livestock so nothing goes to waste–all the same things he taught you. He will love them fiercely as he loves his mother. He will be a protector. You’d never planned for children yourself and you have no warm or soft feelings at the prospect of your future child. This child is just a means to an end. Maybe one day you will grow to love it. Until then, you have other things to worry about. 

There is food to grow and laundry to do.

[roguehongsami]

Celluloid Scenes.

—★ pairing/s: professor!yunho x fem!student

—★ genre/s: smut, fluff, au

—★ synopsis: you're having difficulties grasping this chapter. your professor offers you extra classes, in which they end in the most unanticipated manner.

—★ content: teacher-student (late & early 20s, consensual), filming, pet names, oral sex, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (condomize), rough sex, degradation (barely), belt collar, breath play, creampie, cum eating, face fucking, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism.

—★ word count: 6k

—★ author's note: cliché plot but this is my first piece since i got out of my 4-year writer's block. xoxo.

* DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL. IT IS NOT REPRESENTATIVE OF JEONG YUNHO'S CHARACTER, PERSONALITY OR BEHAVIOUR. THIS IS SOLELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. *

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ lana del rey // cherry

Y/N has never had trouble with music theory. If anything, it was her favourite module. Never raked in a score below a 75%, even if it was a mock assessment that held no weight towards the final pass mark. Chapter 9: Time Signatures. It all went downhill from there. She had collected nothing but 35% and lower on all her mock tests. It was humiliating, to say the least. She was not comprending anything that wasn't in 4/4. This streak of perpetual failures was swallowing her whole, and the shame of it all had found residence in the crevices of her mind.

Professor Jeong Yunho sauntered towards Y/N's desk and laid a paper in front of her, facing down. Facing down. The shame is growing.

He wore a bored expression when he looked down on her, releasing an exhausted sigh, and said, "Ms. L/N, a word after class?"

He continued down the row, handing out everyone's mock tests. She buried her face in her arms on the desk, contemplating her next steps. She's made use of study guides, peer assistance, and even sourced help outside the school, but all she knew was 4/4.

Her friend, Aaliyah, hugged her and said, "You have the best ear in this class, and everybody hits a bump in the road sometimes. But I promise, you will get this before the official assessment."

"Do you know how many hours of prog metal and jazz I listened to, just to get another face-down paper?" She sat upright, lifting Aaliyah's weight off of her body, and whined "My spotify wrapped, Aaliyah."

"Wrapped is in five months. That's enough time to get Lana back at number one." Aaliyah waved her off absentmindedly. "Try blues. It is the mother of modern music, so the answers are in there somewhere."

Class came to an end. The hall started airing out as the students bid adieu. Aaliyah left Y/N behind as she found her way back to their shared apartment. Y/N remained planted in her seat, tucking away yet another inglorious mock test into her tote bag. How the earth could just open up and swallow her. Y/N made her way down to Yunho's desk, while he stood at the door sending off his last students for the day. Once the class emptied, he closed the door and sat himself on his desk, in front of Y/N.

"Your last few mocks have been quite... appalling. I'm not a stranger to failing students but this is certainly not your M.O." he dawned a disappointed look. "You're my star student, talk to me."

She pouted as her head hung low, "I've asked the other students for help and even went to the music store across town. It's just not clicking."

He furrowed his brows, concerned, "Is there something going on in your personal life that's hindering your progress?"

"Nothing I'm aware of, no."

"Be honest, Y/N. It's your last year and I wanna see you graduate in record time." one of his eyebrows arched.

"I'm telling you." her voice was high as she responded. "You think I willingly listened to Dream Theater just to make sense of the work? Emphasis on 'willingly'." She threw her hands up in exaggeration.

He let out a chuckle and mumbled, almost as if he was embarrassed, "I love Dream Theater..."

"You also love post eighties Metallica," she said, mockingly, "but I'll shame you another day seeing that I actually need help." she bat her eyelashes coquettishly.

With a wheeze, he said, "I won't dignify that with a response."

Yunho smirked as he made his way around the desk and sat down is his chair. With his body occupying the space, the chair looked more like a throne beneath him. He pinched the bridge of his nose, unleashing an exasperated sigh. He was trying to make sense of Y/N's little hiccup. As he pondered on all the possible causes of her lack of understanding in the material, silence blanketed them.

During what felt like a voyage to the moon and back, but was actually a minute, Y/N had entertained herself with the Spiderman action figure on Yunho's desk. It was a Tobey Maguire edition. Its limbs could be moved and it had built-in web shooters.

"Okay," he broke the silence, which startled Y/N. She sat the figure back down on his desk, "since you're a practical learner, I can only assume that listening isn't enough for you. So we need to get physical."

"I don't know what that means." she deadpanned.

"Another way to learn time signatures is using drums. Wooyoung is expecting a delivery of new drumkits for his class but they won't be here until the third, which is-"

Y/N cut him off and finished the sentence. "After the official assessment." Panic materialised on her face, as her mind convinced her that her failure was bound to compound.

"Exactly. Now," he leaned forward on his desk, grabbed a note and pen, and scribbled on it as he spoke. "I do have a drumkit back at my place. I can privately tutor you until we complete this chapter." He handed her the note with his address and phone number on it. "We only have two more mocks left, so let's bring your grade up before the official assessment."

Y/N's face beamed as she swiped the note out of his hand, and glanced at it with hope in her eyes. She let out a squeal, which made Yunho jolt out of his seat. He looked at her with much adoration in his eyes, proud that he had just given his student a second chance she assumed was not probable.

Official testing was Monday. Yunho tutored her Fridays through Sundays. On Fridays, Y/N would arrive promptly at his loft at 18:00 and leave at 20:00. On weekends, their sessions begun at 15:00 and concluded at 18:00. Each lesson was very much routine; Yunho would demonstrate a time signature on his drumkit, Y/N replicated it, he would play a song on the speakers, and she would have to identify the time signature.

With each passing lesson, her pattern recognition skills improved. She had went from identifying time signatures after a verse and a chorus, to half a verse, to thirty seconds into a song. Averaging 35% and lower on mocks became a thing of the past, hauling in a 50 and 68 on her last two mocks. Never one to score anything less than a 75, Y/N was growing accustomed to the idea of a 70 for this chapter. She was just appreciative of the assistance Yunho offered, which allowed her to absolve herself of the shame that had befallen her.

The lessons weren't without their own... complications. At least emotional ones, that is. Piddling instances of small talk ranging from casual topics such as movies and music transformed into hour-long personal revelations about dreams and desires. Having peered into each other's hearts and minds, and divulging their truths, they saw each other in a new light.

Behaviours taking up new form, Yunho would always steal glances of Y/N while she was doing classwork. He started wearing much stronger colognes with a sweet touch. Y/N became more mindful of the way she dressed, abandoning her usual sweatpants and tank tops for mini skirts and blouses. These changes did not go unnoticed; they saw but never spoke.

As she trode to the door, about to begin her trek to Yunho's apartment, Aaliyah called to Y/N with her eyes glued to the television. "Make sure you have your keys with you. I probably won't be here when you come back." Aaliyah's eyes landing on Y/N's form, offering a warm smile. "Have fun at your lessons."

She responded softly, with a shy smile dawning her face, "Got my keys. I'll see you at the show." she begun walking out the door but she quickly backtracked, remembering to say, "Also, please learn how to open the window after showering. It's humid when I step in."

She arrived at Yunho's loft a little bit past 15:00. When she arrived, he asked if she could wait for him to take a shower. She sat on his couch, watching the television. Starting to feel a bit unimpressed with what the television had to offer, she occupied herself with his drumkit, practicing everything she had learned in past few weeks. Yunho entered the living room and lessons went on as usual.

"I think you're ready for Monday's test." Yunho sat on the couch, right beside her, resting his arm behind her head.

Y/N turned her body to face him, crossing one leg over the other with her skirt riding up her thigh, revealing a black lace garter embellished with floral designs. His eyes danced between the garter and her eyes, not certain what was more mesmerising. She picked up on this and truthfully, her heart fluttered.

What Y/N never admitted to anybody, not even the big man upstairs, was that she always had the cutest little crush on Yunho. Since first year. These extra lessons only made her innocent infatuation inflate by ten folds. Conversely, Yunho was lured in by the praises that were sung repeatedly by Professor Kim and Choi. He would always find excuses to be in Hongjoong and Jongho's classes, just to hear Y/N either play guitar or sing. What truly trapped him was hearing her rendition of the 'Sweet Child O' Mine' guitar solo. A true beauty who could make a guitar sing as beautifully as she does.

"That 75 was looking very bleak two weeks ago. This chapter had me praying to gods I didn't worship." she grimaced as the words left her mouth.

He inched closer to her face, speaking in a low tone, "I knew you'd turn things around with proper guidance." He begun sliding his hand right up her thigh and tugged on the hem of her thong. "My star student." he whispered in her ear, sending chills down her spine.

He planted wet kisses on her neck, nipping her skin. A sharp gasp escaped her mouth; she impulsively grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and cocked her head back, giving him more access. He trailed multiple kisses across her neck, biting her skin along the way, marking her. She swiftly put herself up on his lap, straddling him between her legs. They shared a passionate kiss that only made their bodies radiate. The growing bulge in his sweats grazed her clothed sex, illiciting a sensual and breathy moan on her part.

They both knew what they were doing would warrant harsh consequences, should they ever be caught. In that moment, they cared only about what their hearts truly yearned for; each other's companionship.

"Fuck, Yuyu." she moaned as she would grind her clothed part against his bulge.

Yunho reached into her thong, separating her folds with his fingers. He was met with moisture. "Jesus, Y/N. You're already wet and we haven't even gotten to the best part."

In a flurry of motions, they were in Yunho's bedroom. He put her down on the bed and walked to the film camera in the corner of the room. He positioned it at the corner of the bed and begun filming. Hovering over her, he lifted her chin to make her face him.

Brushing his thumb on her cheek, he said, "You're gonna be a good girl for me, right?"

She hummed at his words, nodding in agreement. He leaned down to kiss her, unbuttoning her silk blouse as he went down on his knees. His hands snaked around her back, unclasping her bra, and cupping two handfuls of her mounds. His lips circled one of her nipples, licking and biting, forcing moans out of Y/N. He alternated breasts, abandoning one of them and leading his hand back into her thong. She was gushing.

With one hand still cupping her breast and his tongue teasing her nipple, he pulled her skirt off and proceed to remove her thong with his other hand. He exhanged her breast for her lips, longing for a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck in an attempt to keep balance. His fingers separated her folds once more, his thumb playing with her clit. She gasped into his mouth, making him smile against her lips, feeling ever so proud of himself. He slid one finger into her hole, thumb still on her clit. He started pumping in and out of her slowly. A second finger. A third. Pace accelerating.

It was nearing. The knot in her stomach reporting, her walls clenching around Yunho's fingers. He could feel it approaching, it was right there but he wanted to make her beg for her release. He broke their kiss and pulled his fingers out of her, a whine escaping on her end. With haste, he took his t-shirt off and positioned his himself between her legs. Trailing kisses inside her thighs, he grabbed the garter with his teeth and slid it off her leg. He laid her down on the bed, one hand playing with her breast and the other fingering her into oblivion. His mouth wrapped around her clit, licking and kissing it. Softly nibbling her clitoris here and there, causing her back to arch. Y/N had a tight grip on Yunho's hair, not knowing what to do with her hands.

"Yuyu, please, I'm so close." she let out a moan that was bordering on a sob.

He purposely ignored her, knowing it would make her fight harder to not cum. Her walls clenched tighter than before around his fingers, the knot in her stomach getting uncomfortably tight. Tears welling in her eyes, breathing laboured, legs shaking uncontrollably. She was coming undone. He was pushing her to her limit. He felt her every reaction but still withheld those words.

Her tears escaping, running down her temples. With each passing second, she was finding it difficult to control her breathing.

"Yuyu, please." she croaked. Her grip on his hair only getting tighter.

Letting go of her breast, he grabbed her wrist and squeezed it, signaling her to leave his hair, which she reluctantly did. He peered from beneath her.

"What's my name?" he spelled out. His fingers were dancing right there by her sweet spot. She was overstimulated, seeing stars. The stimulation was making the nerves in her body cause an immense level of discomfort because her release was being withheld.

"Yuyu..." she cried in between incoherent mumbles.

"Someone doesn't wanna cum." he scoffed, burying his face back between her thighs. His tongue continued to draw circles around her clit, his fingers only getting faster.

"Yunho! It's Yunho!" she cried after a string of nonsensical ramblings.

He removed his mouth from her core, fingering her even faster than before, delivering the final blow. Those magic words. "Cum. Now." he commanded her.

The knot in her stomach snapped. Without a second to spare, her legs shook violently. Short hitched breaths. Tears streaming down her face. The thick, white, creamy nectar leaking out of her sex, seemingly neverending, came in vast quantities. He laid right beside her on the bed, enveloping her in a hug as she rode out her delirious high. Kissing her forehead, singing praises in her ear, talking her through her orgasm. Her body presumably sensitive, Yunho gently positioned her vertically on the bed.

He planted a soft kiss on her lips and stroked her hair, as he hovered over, whispering, "Don't fall asleep just yet, princess. We're not done."

The bulge in his sweats was throbbing, causing him mild discomfort. He was ready to finally relieve himself, and his favourite student was there to make it happen. He left the bedroom, Y/N trying her hardest to not drift off. Yunho returned and he leaned against the doorframe, hands behind his back, taking in the image of every curve and crevice of Y/N's body. Appreciating the goddess that laid nude in his bed, hair covering her face, awaiting an imminent awakening.

"Tell me, Y/N. Do you ever think of me while you... touch yourself?" Yunho enquired. A dark look in his eyes, with a hint of mischief.

Y/N lazily propped herself up against the headboard. Heat arose in her cheeks, feeling embarrassed. "I really don't wanna answer that, Yuyu."

He walked to the bed, revealing a digital camera, a belt and handcuffs in his hands. He put everything down on the bed except the camera, and caressed her cheek. She leaned into his touch. She felt safe, as if he was exactly who she had been waiting for her entire life. He grabbed her chin and rubbed his thumb on her bottom lip. She instinctively opened her mouth and sucked on his thumb. Yunho positioned the digital camera over her face and photographed the moment.

"That's okay. Personally, I've been thinking of ways I could touch you once I got the chance. Find new, exciting ways to stimulate you." he pulled his thumb out of her mouth, a string of saliva lingering. "See the way you were crying when you came? That was beautiful." he leaned in to her, brushing her lips with his own. "That's what my star student deserves as a reward, for being so hardworking and obedient."

She nodded in agreement as she closed the gap between them. A very short but heated kiss. Yunho pulled away and began to position her. Her knees pressed into the pillows, with her wrists handcuffed to the headboard, he pressed his hand down her back to make her arch. He looped his belt around her neck and let it hang on her back.

Once he took off his sweats, he positioned himself behind her, spreading her legs a bit wider. His member was long and girthy, a large vein running along the base. His slit leaking profusely with precum. He took the tip of his cock and ran it between her folds, as he was pumping it to get it harder, still slick with her nectar. The tip slid into her entrance. He slowly begun stretching her out, proving difficult as she was tight and he was... oversized. With every inch he fed her, they both started shaking. By the time he bottomed her, they were sweating buckets. Both his hands on her hips, slowly, he started pulling out and thrusting in with a bit more speed and impact, grazing her cervix. As they both grew accustomed to the rhythm, he looped the belt around his hand, gently tugging on it.

Although she did not verbally say, Y/N enjoyed the way Yunho tugged the belt. Breathy moans bouncing on the walls with each pull. Yunho watched how Y/N's ass recoiled everytime he pounded into her; a sight to behold. He loved it. Slowing down the pace, he took camera right beside him and begun taking pictures of his cock inside her. He tugged on the belt so that her head would face the ceiling. Smile for the camera. He put the camera back down and picked up the pace. His arm snaking around her waist, rubbing her clit vigorously.

With Yunho still tugging on the belt, slowly beginning to cut her air circulation, but leaving enough room for her to breathe, he pounded even harder. Skin clapping. Laboured breathing. Grunts and moans. Her cunt squelching. All these sounds melding together within the walls. It was amazing. That knot in her stomach paid her a second visit. There it was again. She feared he would repeat what he did before.

She spoke with a slight rasp in her voice, "I- I- I'm gonna c-cum..."

He rubbed her clit even harder. "Not yet, my little cocksleeve. Just a little longer."

Her nerves were getting overworked, yet again. She started sob-moaning as she did her utmost best to keep herself from unraveling. "Yuyu, I feel like I'm gonna explode. Please!" she cried hysterically.

Yunho tugged on the belt, causing her head to cock backwards. "Just take it like the good girl that you are, okay baby? Don't be a brat." he groaned in her ear.

"Yunho, I'm trying." she cried.

He released the belt and stopped rubbing her clit. Grabbing either sides of her hips, he rammed into her relentlessly. "Come on, princess. Cum on daddy's cock." he groaned. Without changing rhythm, he grabbed the camera again. As he felt her clamp around his cock, she released. A beautiful moan leaving her mouth. A white ring started forming around his cock, and he photographed this glorious creation. Y/N rode out her high on Yunho's cock, with bits of her juices dripping out, as she waited for him to get his.

Yunho's hips moved erratically as his own orgasm crept in. The tension in his stomach vanished as soon as he came inside Y/N. His cock was twitching inside her pussy. He plastered himself on her back while he came, his arms snaked around her waist. Whispering praises and promises in her ear. Planting kisses all over the side of her face. Taking nips of her skin.

After a few fleeting minutes, he then took off her handcuffs. As he pulled his member out of her pussy, a white, thick stream made its way down her thighs. Some of it dripping on the sheets. He quickly cleaned her up, rushed to the kitchen to get her a glass of water, and changed the sheets. She was out cold as soon as her head hit the pillow. He truly drained her.

Yunho stopped the recording and put the camera back where it initially was; in the corner of the room. He snuck into bed, cocooning Y/N in his chest and planting a soft kiss on her forehead. She was a true beauty to behold. He was boasting.

Almost two weeks had passed since Y/N and Yunho's sexual congress. Y/N earned herself a 73 on her official test, the lowest she'd ever gotten. She took it with stride as the alternative could've been worse. That Monday of the test was the last time she saw Yunho. As soon as she completed her test, she left her script with her professor and sped out of class, not allowing an opportunity for him to speak to her to present itself.

Y/N got what she wanted for the longest time but she didn't know how to navigate its aftermath. She felt awkward, didn't know how to act. Afraid that Yunho would tell her that it was just a one-time thing. She did not want to hear that. However, Yunho was feeling regretful of that fateful Sunday. Not because of the sex, but because of how Y/N was avoiding him. He was gutted. Losing sleep some nights. Never having seen her in class since Monday's test. Worried of her whereabouts. She wasn't answering his texts nor calls. All he could do was wait until the next time he saw her.

Waldorf Music Academy was hosting their annual mixer, where final-year students were given the opportunity to socialise and make connections with industry executives and artists. WMA was a hotspot for anyone seeking an educated individual who could turn 'generally favourable reviews' into 'universal acclaim'; a magnum opus. Its alma maters ranging from musicians to teachers with their own practices to executives. Industry titans from all over the world could only hope to get an invitation.

She knew this mixer was a once in a lifetime opportunity and couldn't miss it. Her dream of being a songwriter and composer was right there. Y/N spent the whole week preparing herself. Looking presentable was a must. She would not have her moment marred by poor etiquette.

A red, low-back floor-length silk gown with thin straps that criss-crossed in the back, was her choice. Paired with white strapped heels and a white quilted clutch. Her ensemble was embellished with a pearl choker necklace and a 3-piece pearl bracelet with a gold clasp. Breathtaking was not a testament to how magnificent she looked.

Yunho was sporting a black suit with a black tie, a white button-up shirt, a black waistcoat and patent leather oxfords. A silver lapel chain connecting two rubies, hung from the lapel down to the front pocket. His look complete with ruby cufflinks.

The mixer was in full swing. Artists and executives, students and professors were interacting. Some students were lucky enough to exchange contacts with people could open up doors for them. As Y/N spoke with a few songwriters who were behind multiple 2010s pop and hip-hop hits, a longing Yunho was burning holes into the back of her head with his stare from a few feet away. In all honesty, he was enticed by her bare back. He was waiting to go in for the kill.

As Y/N concluded her conversation, she slowly walked away. Yunho took a few strides towards her. He discreetly touched her lower back, which made her gasp. She took a quick glance to her side and faced front just as fast. They walked aimlessly together, side by side.

"Princess, you look otherworldly." he whispered, enough for her to hear but for no one to catch on. "Who's attention are trying to get?"

Maintaining the same tone, she responded, "You look ravishing, Yuyu. But certainly not yours."

"I haven't seen you since your test and you haven't attended any of my classes. You're my star student, talk to me." he recited. That succint statement creating a déjà vu effect.

Her steps faltered momentarily at 'star student' before her step was restored. "I've been feeling under the weather so I thought-"

"Don't lie to me, Y/N." he gently grabbed her wrist and yielded their stroll. He gave her a grave look. "I know you've been avoiding me because Hongjoong told me you were at every guitar lesson." he let go of her wrist to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

She gulped and sighed, defeatedly. "I felt... weird, after we... you know... had sex." she gestured with her hands. "I started avoiding you so you wouldn't get the chance to tell me it was a one-time thing. It sucks because I..." she released a shaky breath. "think I have feelings for you."

"That's on me for not prompting the conversation sooner. But do you realise how worried I was? How bad I felt when you didn't answer my texts or calls?" he shook his head. "Y/N, you can't just disappear on me whenever you don't understand your own feelings."

"Approaching you with matters unrelated to school is difficult because I don't know where we stand."

From the inside of his jacket, he produced a gold ring with an obsidian stone. "I was planning on giving you this after class, once you got your test results. But you've been M.I.A. So I brought it with me, hoping I would see you, so we could talk about, I don't know... a relationship?" he said, suggestively. The look in his eyes was softer. "I'm a grown man. No games, I want something serious."

She took the ring in her hand, admiring it with wide eyes, "There's no harm in talking, right?" she slid the ring on her right index and looked up at Yunho. "I don't wanna get you in trouble, Yunho."

"Don't worry, princess. We'll only meet in my loft since it's in the inner city, away from campus. After your graduation, we'll be free." he smiled reassuringly.

"Thank you for being so understanding." she returned the smile.

"I booked a room in the hotel. Ten-oh-three. See you after the mixer?"

She nodded quickly. "Midnight."

The hall was slowly emptying as guests departed. It was quite easy for Y/N to slip out without anyone noticing. Yunho had already disappeared by 23:00. As she rode silently in the elevator, she was hoping nobody from school would see her. The idea of getting caught was brewing anxiety inside her. The doors opened and she was met with a giant "floor 10" silver lettering. She walked down the hallway and stopped before 1003.

After a few knocks, Yunho opened the door and pulled her in while snaking his arm around her waist. Locking the door, he bridal carried her and plastered soft pecks all over her face. Y/N was very giggly. She dropped her clutch on the coffee table. They laid in bed, with Y/N beneath him. He tucked hair behind her ears, and started stroking her hairline. She toiled with the hair at the back of his neck. A few moments of silence passed as they enjoyed each other's embrace.

He started kissing her sensually, cupping either side of her face. She returned the kiss enthusiastically. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist. He got up off the bed and took off his waistcoat and shirt. Grabbing her by the ankles, he dragged her to edge of the bed and put her legs on his chest. He took off her heels and started massaging her legs.

"Tell me, princess. How far do you want us to go?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Our relationship."

She pondered on her thoughts. Not wanting to be so vague that it planted doubt in Yunho's mind, but not so honest that she sounded desperate. "Right now, I'm okay with this. I don't wanna set expectations that could be beyond our reach. Let's just... go with it."

Y/N sat upright on the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. She gently tugged on his waistband, bringing her lips to his stomach. He shut his eyes and took in a deep breath. His hand played with her hair. She unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down low enough for his cock to spring out.

It stood long and hard in front of her face, grazing her chin. She took him in her hand and placed a wet kiss on the tip. As she wrapped her lips around the tip and licked it, she slowly begun pumping his shaft. He let out a shaky breath. Her mouth felt warm around him. She worked his cock all the way down her throat, stilling for a few seconds.

When she pulled him out, a string of saliva lingered. She pumped him again, looking him in the eye and saying, "Tell me you want this, Yuyu. That you want me." she licked her upper lip.

He groaned. "Fuck, I want you and more, baby girl."

She planted her mouth back on his cock, sliding down halfway and leaving enough room to keep pumping. Her tongue laved him, wetting his cock immensely. Sucking on his cock and creating a suction effect, that paired with the rapid pumping was driving him to imminent euphoria. The feeling was sensational for him, expressing his pleasure with multiple breathless moans and praises.

Yunho looped her hair around his hand and said, "Let out your tongue, princess."

Y/N laid her tongue flat and stopped pumping. She put her hands on her thighs as he started thrusting in her mouth. The walls of her throat felt like velvet around his member. The thrusts accelerated gradually and he was pounding hard. Try as hard as she may, her gag reflex betrayed her. She started crying. He was just too big for her. He stilled deep in her throat, holding her steady for a few moments. His cock was throbbing against the back of her throat. Shortly after, he pulled out, only leaving the tip in. He came in her mouth. She was sucking him, milking him dry of all he had. She pumped out as much of the cum as she could. All of his nectar collected in her mouth, some going down her chin. It was warm and tasted a bit salty, with a creamy consistency. She swallowed all of it. She peered up to him, doe eyed, wiping the residue on her chin with her thumb and licking it.

Yunho bowed down to meet her eyes and smirked. "You're such a pretty crier." he cupped her face, wiping away her tears. "My pretty little plaything."

Their lips crashed into one another, Yunho forcing his tongue into her mouth just to taste himself. She moaned into his mouth, squeezing her thighs together to stimulate herself. He grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head. Her nipples stood at attention at the feel of the slightly chilly temperature. Her lace thong was the next to be discarded. Tucking his cock back in his pants, he pulled away from her.

"Play with yourself." he said with authority.

She guided her hand down to her sex as she spread her legs open on the bed. As she held Yunho's gaze, she used the slick that had gathered in her cunt to lube her clit. She rubbed that little sensitive bud, slowly picking up speed. Her body temperature started rising. She slid two fingers into her hole, thrusting them. She knew she couldn't crest an orgasm without help, but that didn't stop her from trying. Her moans filled the room as she pleasured herself for her partner. Yunho took his cock out and started rubbing one out. He was so aroused by Y/N. It didn't take long until he was leaking precum and she was dripping arousal on the sheets.

"Don't you wanna help me out, Yuyu?" she said, almost out of breath. "I can't cum without you."

"Anything for you, princess." he dropped his pants all the way down to the floor.

He positioned himself between her thighs, running his tip through her slick cunt. The tip slowly stretched her out. Gasping into his mouth, she supported herself using his broad shoulders. He filled her all the way up and started slow stroking, getting faster as the rhythm smoothed out. Taking one hand, while balancing himself with his forearm, he had his hand on her neck. Applying pressure to her sides. He told her to open her mouth and he spit inside.

"Yunho, faster!" she begged.

Yunho was getting aroused with the way her breasts danced with every pounding. Her moans were the single most beautiful song he had ever heard. Her sweet cunt was only getting warmer and slicker. The unholy squelching as their hips moved in tandem. This was his heaven. He brushed against her sweet spot hastily. She felt the pressure build up in her stomach, and her walls clenching around him. She was going to crest it; sweet, sweet release. This time she was going to comply just to get a hit. Yunho's wasn't far either as he moved erratically inside her.

"I'm not gonna make you beg." he grunted. "Cum. Now."

"Fuck, yes!" she moaned with pleasure.

Y/N locked her legs tightly around Yunho. As the pressure in her stomach eased, her high hit her like a tidal wave. She dug her freshly manicured nails into his back. His cock spasmed inside her, releasing his second load of the night. Both trying to gather themselves, the ecstasy slowly subsided. Yunho slid his cock out of her and left a kiss on her forehead. She was brought into a bear hug in bed.

"I really love how you say 'Yuyu'. It's cute, adorable honestly." he kissed the top of her head.

She beamed as if hearing the most life-changing news. "I knew you'd love it. But you kept pretending like you didn't." she pouted.

"I was just teasing, princess. You get worked up so easily." he chuckled into her hair.

"You know, I love 'princess'. Makes me feel important."

"Because you are, and I intend on treating you like one." he cooed in her ear as he brought her hand to his face, and kissed the obsidian stone.

[a-dogboys-sweet-lovers]

neuvie cuddles? fem!reader pls :)

Whoops, I got carried away and this is a bit long! (?) Anyways, general tags: sfw - cuddles - f!reader - established relationship - Neuv is being a workaholic again - Neuv calls reader "princess" and "love" - half dragon form Neuv (I am but a weak man)

It's nearing midnight; you've been quietly reading a book alongside your perpetually-busy Iudex, who, predictably, is still working on reviewing some cases. You frown slightly: immortal primordial being or not, Neuvillette, too, needs a rest. Unfortunately, there aren't many people that he would listen to regarding this matter; fortunately, you, being his lover and confidante, are one of them. Still, you decide to choose an indirect approach.

-Neuvilette, love? - you call out quietly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He leans into your touch much like a cat, rubbing his cheek on your hand.

-What is it that my princess desires?

This is where you put on a bit of a show.

-I'm feeling so lonely... I know you're right here, but you're so busy all the time!

It's not entirely untrue; while you enjoy just exsisting alongside Neuvilette, quietly going around your day even if you two don't interact, you do miss the rare occasions when his attention is entirely on you and you only. Besides, he does need a rest, and as do you.

Neuvilette makes an apologetic face.

-I'm sorry, love, I know I've been paying less attention to you lately... What do you want us to do?

-May we cuddle for a while?

He plants a kiss on your hand and gets up, suddenly lifting you up into a princess carry, smiling slightly. You giggle, not quite expecting him to have done that. His rather impressive height and inhuman strength mean you practically weigh nothing to him, and he does carry you around a lot because of that, but somehow he still manages to surprise you every time he does.

-Do you want us to lay down, or...?

-Yes! To the bedroom, please, - you ask him in a mock-commanding tone, pointing towards your shared bedroom in a spoiled princess impression. That makes him smile wider. He carefully maneuvres you around all the doorframes and finally places you gently onto the big, soft canopy bed, taking time to shed some outer layers of his complicated outfit to enter a more relaxed state. Meanwhile, you fluff the pillows, making some sorts of a nest for you two. With an exhausted, but still somewhat content sigh Neuvilette plops onto the bed next to you and immediately throws his arms around you. In this position his head is on your chest, and you really want to pet him like an oversized affectionate cat. When you give in to your desires, you hear a purr - right. Dragons, it turns out, purr. Because Neuvilette sure wasn't perfect before. You smile, looking at your adorable lover, who under your hands on his scalp has relaxed into a semi-conscious state... Oh, wait, what's -

You feel something slithering against your leg, waiting to circle it. It feels strange,and at first you get startled - but then you realize: Neuvilette's tail. Your lover became so deeply relaxed in your presence, his human form shifted into a more natural semi-draconic form. And his tail wants cuddles, too. You giggle quietly, planting a kiss on top of your lover's head; your legs become entangled with Neuvilette's tail, and, fast asleep, he mumbles something resembling "my love", before his body goes completely slack against yours.

Well, you definitely don't mind cuddling him throughout the night, then.