#here’s to hoping I hit the sweet spot with the dynamics?

[youarewhatyoulove-blog]

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

OR

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with a gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

[cherubfae]

𝔯𝔲𝔫 𝔟𝔞𝔟𝔶 𝔯𝔲𝔫 || {𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔰}

Surely monsters of myths and folklore don't exist, do they...?

|| 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐅𝐀𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ||

tags: nsfw, smut, fem!reader, implied!plus sized reader (as a treat), Wanderer!Sylus, siren!Rafayel, werewolf!Zayne, kitsune!Xavier, predator/prey dynamics, breeding, ruts, monster fucking, porn with some plot, almost drowning (raf's)

a/n: this got away from me a little bit. I've been writing longer fics pretty much non-stop over these last two days and I'm in need of a little break once Halloween is over. I decided to try to take on too much with not much time before Halloween. it may not be the most cohesive, but I hope you can enjoy it! last fic is tomorrow!

Zayne

No, no, no, no. This wasn't right. This wasn't... He was supposed to be helping people. Not... Hazel-green eyes stared down at the lupine reflection, his face, along the river's surface; his maw dripping with warm, crimson blood. He let out a shuddering, mournful scream. But in this form, it echoed as a fierce howl. All he could do was run and run and run.

Zayne ran as fast as he could, massive paws thundering through the soft dirt. Something sweet and inviting calls to his hypersensitive nose, making him still and sniff again. Instantly, he takes off in the direction of the scent, quietly approaching a river. His eyes narrowed, like a vicious beast glinting in the shadows, as he neared your barely covered form as you bathed. The sight of you, his mate, was enough to calm his inner turmoil. He became weightless, his eyes fluttering as he lays his sight on you. His everything.

"It's dangerous to be out here in such a state and alone no less." He feels a slight sadistic satisfaction at your jolt, relaxing when you realize its him. His eyes follow the movement of your breasts, raking over the swell of them and how your nipples poke through the gaps of your fingers. "A beast might try to come stake his claim over you..." Zayne shifted back, his human form naked, skin stretched taught over fine muscle. His cock, heavy and long, throbbed between two powerful legs. "Why do you look at me so lovingly when you know what I have become?"

"Because it is still you, Zayne. The goodness in your heart. You are not the wolf that takes over." You stand, removing your shift and baring yourself to him once more. "No matter what form you take, I will love you always."

Zayne loosed a shuddering breath and he's hovering over you in an instant. There would be time to think of the consequences to his actions later. For now, while he still remained free, he needed you. He needed you more than the sun loves the moon. His mouth hot against your lips, swiftly picking you up and raking his hands possessively down your backside; gripping handfuls of your supple rear in his large palms.

"How lucky of a creature I am to have such a devoted and loyal mate." Zayne murmurs, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear. "I must worship you properly, hmm?"

Laying you down on the soft grass, Zayne enters you slowly. His cock, long and thick, stretches you out in the best of ways, hitting spots you could never reach with your fingers. Every inch of him is warm and throbbing, his hips rutting into you, his teeth gently nipping along your throat. "If you keep moaning so loudly, darling, others are gonna try to come and take you from me." Zayne silences you with a kiss, sliding his fingers down to caress your nub. "Better keep quiet then, hmm? Unless you want the whole of Linkon to know you're being bred by a werewolf?"

Zayne snarls as his hips pound at your ass, reaching an arm under you to pin you to him, your legs dangling off the ground slightly. "That's it, love... Take everything I'm giving you. Take it all..."

Rafayel

The water is cold, and your body is heavy. Your legs that had been rapidly kicking and treading water, slowed as your muscles burned with overexertion. The salty water made it hard to see. You doubted your crew mates cared you went overboard, left to be food for the sirens and whatever else lingered in the dark waters. Faintly, you heard the hauntingly beautiful singing; the song felt sad. The same that had accidentally sent you over, eager to hear it better you neared too close to the edge of the ship.

You were so tired; you weren't sure if you had it in you anymore. As you drift like a weightless cipher, your mind fading to the back, barely recognizing two strong, warm arms tugging you through the stormy, twisting tidal waves.

"Are you with me?" Fingers snap near your ear as you come to. Blinking at the low light, you faintly make out the blurred shape of a topless male hovering over you. "You were bleeding. I've staunched the wound. I thought humans were supposed to be at the top of the food chain. Why were you swimming during the start of a tsunami?"

Tsunami?! Your head snapped up, instincts kicking in to take shelter. Then you realized. You were already under the water. You were breathing under the water. Turning to look at your savior, it was then you realized the blue and magenta scales of a long tail laying lazily behind him. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

"Great. Just great. A human girl ruining my brooding time. Better be grateful I saved you. I won't do that for just anyone." The purple-haired male crossed his arms over his chest. He had interesting markings and jewels and scales marking his upper body and his face. "My name is Rafayel. Are you done staring or are you so stunned by my beauty? You look like a guppy with your mouth opening and closing like that." He gripped your cheeks, squeezing them together until your lips puckered out. Rafayel frowned. "You have a fever. Wait here, I'll gather ingredients for a salve."

You could only watch wide-eyed and weak as Rafayel beautifully dived into the small wave pool, his tail fins waving as he disappeared into the depths.

Over the next few weeks, Rafayel nurses you back to full health. You've grown immensely fond of this sassy merman. He was unlike anyone you ever met and it was clear he enjoyed the attention. Today, he was teaching you about Lemurians and how they differed from humans.

"These scales are beautiful. Especially with how they catch the sunlight." You admire, running your hand over the shimmering scales of his tail, feeling the strong muscle flexing beneath your palm. Leaning back in the warm sand, you and Rafayel rest your lower halves in the gentle waves.

Rafayel swallowed thickly. "I'm glad you like them..." His eyes widen as your hands curiously wander down his tail, getting too close to his slit. He catches your hand before you can touch him, making you jump. "That's a dangerous place to touch. You are only allowed to touch me there. No one else, little human." You met his eyes, drifting back to the opening, noting how clear slick began to drip from the slight opening. Then, it clicked where you were touching.

Emboldened, you look at him. "May I?" Rafayel looked like he was going to pass out and it wasn't from heatstroke. He nodded, his body like jelly as he guides your hand to his slit, gasping as you tenderly caress his puffy lips, coaxing forth two ridged pale purple cocks, dripping with precum the color of moonstone. Nearly the same color as his hair, his twin tips were pink, fading into a dark purple at the base.

"Well then, won't you thank me properly for saving your life?" His hand curled over the back of your neck and guided you down to his waiting, leaky cocks; both begging desperately for your attention. "Gods, I have never believed in Heaven but your mouth just may be it..."

Xavier

"Oof!.. What?" You look down to see what you tripped on, eyes widening as you take in the sight of several bushy grey-blond foxlike tails splayed beneath you. Reaching down to touch you them, you gasp as a clawed hand grips your wrist tight.

A sleepy voice grumbled behind you, an arm circles your waist and tugged you back into a warm chest. "You disturbed my sleep... That's rude." In a swirl of magic, Xavier pulled you onto his lap, his chest pressing to your back.

Twin grey ears twitch atop Xavier's head, the point of a fang peeks out from beneath his top lip as he stares unimpressed. "And it's rude to stare. Doesn't my star know any manners?" Xavier growled, leaning close to nip at your lips.

His warm, wide tongue flattens over your pulse point, licking a stripe up your skin. "It's been a while since I've been graced by a scent so sweet... I have never had the chance to act upon it. Will you indulge me, sweet maiden?" Xavier bowed his head over your shoulder, his fangs pricking your skin.

His hot cock slides between your clothed folds, soaking your underwear in his sticky pre. Your dress bunched together in his clawed grasp. Xavier makes no attempts to enter, just happy sliding himself against the thin cotton of your underwear, seemingly content with cumming over them instead of inside. He yanks your underwear taught, moaning as his wet head slipped against the rough fabric. Your panties practically translucent from your combined juices. Bucking your hips, you whine for more. "Oh, are you in a rush? We have all night, don't we? Why so eager to rush to the finale-- are you that desperate to have me fill you with my kits?"

Sylus

All you could see were two glowing red eyes within the shadowy tree line. They were impossibly high off the ground, meaning the creature who owned those eyes had to be at least seven to eight feet tall. A tremoring growl echoed as the creature breaches the darkness and towers over you, sniffing at the air.

"What a bold little rabbit to trample into the lion's den so willingly-- and during his rut no less." The beast-man circles you, large horns protruding from his head and curl backwards. Great, black wings are furled at his back. His skin is two-toned, half pale white and half-sleek and black as night. You couldn't quite tell what he was, too much like a chimera, his most dominant features resembled the visages of a crow and a dragon.

"Cheeky, cheeky..." He stepped fully into the light of the full moon. His form was massive and his horns only added to his already imposing height and build. Sylus circles you like cornered prey, his cock heavy and pulsating between his thighs. Lowering himself down to his knees, he tilts your chin up. "Tell me, sweetie. Have you ever been with an untamed beast like me?"

The grass was soft beneath your fingertips, curling them into the dirt as Sylus ruts into you with fervor. His heavy balls smack against your ass, one large, clawed hand covers yours, threading your fingers together. He took you like a lover; reverently, worshipping, like he never wanted to leave.

"If you want to scream for me, go ahead and scream. Let the whole forest know how good I make you feel. From this day forward, I will court you as my mate. You will never want for nothing again, sweetie."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[astayinwonderland]

“So this makes us what?” | fwb lee minho

pairings: lee know x f.reader

genre: smut | fwb trope | +18 minors DNI

requested by @kyungpenguin33 ˜ sorry this took forever to write, darling. i hope you like it <3

summary: you and minho had been friends for a while, but it all changes one rainy afternoon. now someone is jealous and can't really stand just being friends with benefits (college!au)

word count: 1.7k

warnings: biting, marking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (big no-no), minho calls reader bunny, slight argument, jealousy... lmk if I forgot something

Enjoy (;

His number 2 pencil snapped in his hand. 

Not that anyone would notice, especially not you. Your attention was somewhere else, better said, on someone else. Minho’s chest feels heavy as he watches how your deskmate puts his arm around you. Does he have a death wish? Minho shakes his head trying to calm down his thoughts. Of course, your deskmate didn’t have a death wish. He, like everyone else, is aloof about what goes on behind closed doors between you and Minho. The way you moan under his touch, how impatient you become when he teases you, oh, and the look on your face when he eats you out. 

It’s celestial yet sinful. 

Minho scoffs. What is so great about that dude anyway? You are way too much for him, you are the sunshine itself. You bring life into every situation no matter how difficult it is. It is hard for Minho to shake off these feelings, especially when you two are supposed to be just friends who fuck. 

It all started one rainy afternoon. Water poured heavily as you tried to focus on the movie Minho insisted you watch. It was ‘the best thing ever’, but although you tried not to hate it, the movie was incredibly boring and you rather be napping. Your eyelids feel heavy, drowsiness overpowers your body, and the next thing you know your eyes open to a very sleepy Minho. He is an angel walking the Earth, tortured, joyful, and beautiful. His head rests on your shoulders, his purple hair slightly covering his eyes as the two of you now lay on the very soft and cozy couch. Little drops of rain hit the window and your index finger lands on his perfect nose, then his perfect lips which are slightly parted. 

“What are you doing, bunny?” he asks. His eyes were still closed. 

Your heart almost stops as your body jumps, scared. 

Minho chuckles and tries to resume his nap, his head now getting cozy on the crook of your neck. You swallow hard, his breath tickles that very sensitive spot on your neck. No. You can’t think of him in that way. This is your friend, your friend. But when Minho plants a little kiss on the soft skin between your shoulder and neck, you are doomed. 

A soft moan involuntarily escaped your lips. 

Minho smiles, the corners of his lips going up. So he plants another kiss and another and another. His tongue ever-so-slightly tasting your skin, creating in you a euphoric feeling you hope never ends. His eyes land on yours, a silent petition to kiss you. There is no need to verbally answer him, you nod and your lips are on his. His lips gracing yours, feel like cotton candy, soft and sweet. You bring your face down to his and the moment his tongue touches your bottom lip the dynamic changes. 

Minho’s hands are quick and skillful to reach your hips and pull you on top of him. You feel his erection pulsating through his sweatpants as you straddle him, still not breaking the kiss. It feels so easy to strip off your clothes in front of him. For Minho is the same, he loves the warmth of your skin and wants to worship every part of you, but your eagerness is palpable and to him, pleasing you is now a must. 

Never in his life, Minho would have thought he would be inside you. Did he imagine it? Well, in all honestly he tried to stop himself any time his mind would go there. But fuck, he couldn’t, his will wasn’t that strong. However, now it is a whole different deal, you are here, riding him like a fucking goddess. The way your ass keeps bouncing up and down, your hips rocking back and forth. You drive him into madness, his brain can’t process how all this is happening. If he gets to have you, then let him be damned. 

You, on the other hand, feel the heat radiating from Minho’s body, your sweat mixing with his as your tongue clashes with his fighting for dominance. It is not the first time you have had skin-to-skin contact with your friend. You’ve hugged and cuddled a little bit before. But the way his fingers dig deeper into your flesh, encouraging you to keep going makes your pussy wetter and your moans louder. 

Skin-slapping sounds in crescendo, Minho positions his feet flat on the couch, changing your angle as he starts to fuck you, faster than the pace you originally set. Your broken moans are getting him hornier and making him groan, whispering your name as it’s the only word in his vocabulary. 

“Minho… fuck– faster, please… harder…” you whisper. 

And he obeys as he continues fucking you until your vision blurs. Minho feels the exquisite clenching of your entrance and he wants you to milk him whole, but that is not something he’s been allowed to do. So he focuses as hard as he can to make you cum first. Your eyes closed, muscles tensing as your nails claw his chest. 

“Fuck yes– ah! “ you say as you reach your high, laughing at the blissful sensation. 

Minho lifts you and you want him to cum so immediately your hand wraps around his beautiful, perfect thick cock and after a few pumps, he’s cumming for you. 

No words. The only thing that can be heard is both of your heavy breathing trying to go back to normal. Minho smiles. 

“I didn’t know you were such a menace in bed, bunny…” 

That sentence opened the door for endless sessions of fucking and resuming your everyday activities. No questions asked. To be honest you were too scared to and Minho seemed not to care about talking about it. Minho didn’t want to lose you and would not take that risk by talking about the friends-with-benefits thing and ruining everything. 

That was of course until he saw you with him—your deskmate. 

The class was not over, but Minho was too upset to keep witnessing another man’s hands on you. So he storms out of the class, curious eyes all over him as he doesn’t bother to excuse himself. This behaviour is not completely uncommon from him, but you just knew something was off. 

—-----------------------------------------------------

Snow falls lightly as the day comes to an end. Minho walks determined straight to his car, heart beating so fast he almost didn’t hear your voice from afar. 

“Minho! Stop… shit! Minho!” you ran as fast as possible to catch up with him. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“What’s wrong Min?” you shiver at the cold wind hitting you. 

“Nothing… go back to the lecture. Go back to your friend,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Friend? Wh-what? Wait… do you mean–”

“Yes, him… whatever! Just go back in there, you’ll freeze your ass out here.” 

Minho takes out his car keys and opens his car door but you are set on not moving. Your eyes can’t believe the fact that Lee Minho is jealous of a classmate. You don’t even like him like that, you only like Minho but he doesn’t know that. 

Since you are not moving, Minho gets in his car and you do the same shortly after him. 

“Shit… just go to class!” 

“Are you seriously jealous of him? He is just a friend… I am not fucking him!” you try to look him in the eye but Minho just looks away. 

“Yeah, I’m your friend too and we fuck nearly every night. Does he fuck you better than I do?” 

Your heart sinks because his words are harsh and hurtful. You try to get out of his car but Minho pulls you back in. 

“I’m sorry,” and his face is so close to yours that you finally see the Minho you love. So you delicately brush your fingertips on his cheek. 

He doesn’t say a word. His eyes close and now his hand covers yours. 

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” he pauses, meditating on what to say next. “But… I don’t want you to sleep with that guy– or anyone else.” Minho now looks at you, eyes anxious awaiting your answer. 

“I don’t want to sleep with him or anyone else, Minho.” 

“You’re fucking mine,” he cups your face and kisses you passionately. 

Suddenly it all feels like that first time you two kissed. It was deep, lustful, yet loving. Your hands entangle in his now-fading purple hair as you savour every bit of that kiss. His tongue diving into your mouth, swallowing your moans, and his hands keeping you in place. 

Your body moves and before your brain can process it, Minho has you on his lap. Driver’s seat pushed to the back so you can sit, your back against his chest. It doesn’t take long for him to undo his and your jeans when he is already entering you with his middle fingers tapping on your clit. 

His lips on your shoulders and back, kissing and licking your skin making you throw your head back giving him access to your neck. He knows your sensitive spot. Minho’s mouth marks your neck so beautifully, licking, kissing, biting, sucking, as you slowly bounce up and down his cock. Every little touch drives you crazy. 

“Mine,” he whispers, as he bites down on your shoulder now and adds more pressure to your clit, drawing circles on it. 

“Mine, mine, you’re fucking mine. No one else's,” he speeds up, making you cry in response. 

“Yours,” you reply. “Fucking yours.” 

“I want you to fucking use me, cum for me, bunny. I’m no one else’s but yours.” 

His words alone make you clench around him. Quickening your pace you chase your release as Minho’s free hand helps you up and down. 

“Don’t fucking stop, bunny, just like th- that… ugh… you’re the fucking death of me.” 

You feel how your climax triggers his, spilling his seed inside you and you collapse, head on the steering wheel. Once again silence, your heartbeat so fast you hear it in your ears. Minho holds you tenderly and kisses you softly. He carefully helps you up and to the passenger’s seat. You are about to open the door, but he stops you. 

“So this makes us what?” he finally asks. 

“Get out of the car,” you reply. 

The snow had stopped now and you go around the car and hold Minho’s hand, interlocking your fingers with his. 

“This makes you mine and I am yours,” you smile.

“Let’s go back to class, I think I have a new deskmate.” 

“Hmmm, I want to meet him already…” Minho smirks, the tips of his ears getting red. 

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

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨

I enjoyed so much writing this! This man be fucking with my brain BAD.

Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated 💖

[kingkatsuki]

— the ties that bind

I just needed to get this out of my system, because after catching up to Wind Breaker I got this idea in my head and I just hope it makes some form of sense outside the horny.

Endo would offer anything to Takiishi to make him happy, including you.

Pairing: Endo Yamato x Takiishi Chika x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, angst, toxic!unestablished relationship, power dynamics if you really squint, threesome, one!sided feelings (on yours and Endo’s part), dirty talk, m!masturbation, fingering, double penetration (cock and fingers in your pussy at the same time), creampie, cum eating, cunnilingus.

Word Count: 2.4k.

You’re not even sure if Takiishi truly loves you, or whether you’re just another pawn in his sadistic game of chess. Manipulating you would be easy anyway when you’re so desperately in love with him.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” His thumb tugs at your bottom lip as you instinctively tilt your head, pathetically offering yourself to him as always. The option is his to take, his decision as always, “Anything.”

“Yes, Chika.” And perhaps he likes you because you always tell him exactly what he wants to hear.

Takiishi smiles at that and indulges you. Taking pity on you this time as he leans down to capture your lips in a fiery kiss, cradling your jaw in one of his palms as you feel yourself leaning into his touch. You like it when he’s like this— it allows you to trick yourself into thinking everything is copacetic.

“Is that good?” His lips curl into a smug grin against your lips. Already certain of the answer, though he’d never want you to lie to him.

And it is good, the lustrous euphoria that clouds your thoughts and leaves you in a delirious stupor. His balls are snug against the swell of your ass as he works to carve your cunt into the shape of his cock. Grinding against you as the coarse hairs at his base tickle your clit and have you clenching around him, sharp nails digging into the base of his skull as you pathetically writhe beneath him.

“Oh, fuck,” You sound out, chasing his lips. His mouth swallows the sound as he repeats the motion, delighting in the way your walls clench around his cock, “Chika.”

Takiishi pulls back to watch you now, drunk enough on the pleasure that crystalline tears clump in your thick lashes and your lips pout in a needy whine. The sight is completely debauched as he reaches out to palm one of your bouncing breasts, catching your nipple between his index and middle finger as he squeezes softly.

“You really are perfect, huh?” He continues, shaping his hand against the curve of your chest, grunting when you clench around him in response.

He’s like a drug, intoxicating and so damn addictive that you can’t stop yourself from coming back for another hit. His hands scorch your skin as he palms your breast, rutting into your warm cunt as his cock curves towards that sweet spot inside you.

He’s nothing like the man that everyone else gets to see, the strongest man in Furin's history. When you have him like this it’s easy to convince yourself that he’s something more— this soft side reserved just for you as he holds you in his arms and tells you he loves you. Except, he’d never say those words to you, would he?

“Told ya she was,” Endo smirks from behind you, and you’re brought back to your sickening reality.

It’s his fault you’re like this, after all.

“I thought she’d make you happy.” He scoffs, and you’re reminded of your stark reality, the real reason why you’re here, “I picked a good one, huh?”

Takiishi doesn’t answer, but instead gives another rough thrust into your tight cunt. Enough to have you crying out as Endo shamelessly flops down on his side onto the bed beside you, resting his head on his palm as he reaches out to pinch one of your taut nipples. His cock bounced from the movement as you noticed the globs of pre beading at the engorged tip, an angry pink that flushed down the length of him. Swollen balls, bulky and ready to give everything they’ve got to give to the man in front of you. Endo wrapped a calloused palm around his cock as he gave himself a lazy pump, smearing the opaline moisture along his length for lube as he pressed his thumb against his slit.

“She was a good choice.” Takiishi grunts, readjusting himself as he curls his hands beneath your thighs. Changing the angle as your walls clench around him, admiring the scars and welts that pucker against his chest.

And Endo delights in the praise, as though it was directed towards him. When the saccharine look in Takiishi’s eyes told otherwise— his softened irises almost convinced you that he cared.

It’s always been difficult to ascertain when he’s being deceptive but just as he enjoys playing this twisted game, you’ve started to play too. Like a pawn whose only task is to protect the king, you’ve set your pieces up to guard your heart. Terrified to admit to him how you feel, although you’re certain he can tell. He’s always been perceptive, after all.

“I’d do anything for you,” Endo continues stroking his cock, squeezing his palm around the girth of it, “You know that.”

And once again, that’s your stark reminder that none of this is real.

Takiishi had told you he cared for you before. One night below the stars when you were alone together, sharing a split bottle of whisky as you felt the breeze whip at your ankles. He’d only allow himself to be vulnerable when there was no one else around, no distractions. Or as vulnerable as Takiishi was capable of being, you supposed. But you wondered if he’d say the same to Endo when he was in the same position, all doe eyes and soft smiles as he cups your beating heart in a calloused fist and squeezes tight.

Endo always said Takiishi was a blazing inferno that consumes everything it touches indiscriminately, without a care for others. And that was probably why you’d both be going down in the blaze. Fooling yourself into believing that you would be able to avoid the fire when you should’ve known it was destroying you from the inside.

“You like that?” Takiishi murmured, “You like me fucking you into the shape of my cock?”

But maybe you were just as sadistic as them, indulging in the pain laced with such frivolity. Letting them use you however they see fit, under the guise that they actually care about you— that they love you.

“Yes,” You whined, trying feebly to match his pace. Wanting to prove to him that you were the right choice, that you’d do anything to make him happy. It disgusted you how much you’d bend your back to appease him, how much you were willing to give of yourself to receive next to nothing in return. You could only blame the pleasure clouding your mind for so much before the lusty fog cleared to a haze of realisation.

“Good girl.” He liked that answer, he always did.

Takiishi rewarded you with a particularly harsh thrust, as he pulled his hips back enough to drag his drenched cock from your silky depths before plunging it back in with a sudden rut.

“Her pussy sounds so fuckin’ wet.” Endo smirked at the lewd sound that filled the room, “She’s so noisy.”

“You always take me so well,” Takiishi murmured so softly, you’d mistake it for kindness. Smoothing a palm against your pelvis as he felt for his cock inside you.

“Yeah, and she likes it,” Endo scoffed, “Just look at her— you like being stuffed full, huh?”

He reached down to press two tattooed fingers against your puffy clit as you gasped in pleasure. Arching your back into his touch as Takiishi continued his rough pace, fucking you higher up the mattress from the ferocity of his thrusts as his red hair cascaded around him.

“Bet Chika’s stretching you out,” His fingers continued lower, spreading into a V on either side of Takiishi’s cock as they squeezed softly. The heel of his palm was now flat against your clit as you watched Takiishi’s eyes roll in pleasure, manicured nails digging into the plush of your thighs as he sought his high.

“This is the best gift yet, right Chika?” Endo grins, “Isn’t she the best gift?”

“Yeah,” Takiishi smiles down at you, and it has you falling even deeper, “You did good.”

Endo practically keened at the praise, a garbled sound akin to a whine slipped past his lips as slender hips bucked into his closed fist. And while Endo would say Takiishi is the king in this twisted game, you know him better. He’s like a rook, moving straight across the board to strike down every dispensable shield you’ve placed to guard your heart as he gets in through a hole in your defences.

“Fu-uck,” Endo groaned when he began to press two of his tattooed fingers into your warm, wet cunt above Takiishi’s cock. Feeling the stretch between your thighs as you writhed against tousled sheets, immediately clamping down in defence.

“Relax.” Takiishi smoothed a palm along your sternum, feeling the harsh doldrums of your heart as though on command you released the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

Feeling Endo wiggle his fingers inside you with glee as the pair moved in tandem, calloused pads hitting the spongy spot inside you with each flick of his wrist as the blunt head of Takiishi’s cock carved your insides into the shape of him.

“You’re so big, Chika,” Endo continued, a groan vibrating low in his throat as he felt you tighten around him, “Are you gonna cum?”

The question wasn’t directed at you but the coil inside you wound tight, leaving you teetering on the edge of your bliss as you waited for something to have you free-falling.

“Shit,” Takiishi rasped, practically curled over you as his hips jerked, his pace faltering as he felt the pleasure building between his thighs.

“Fuck,” Endo growled, a toothy smile spread against his cheeks as he pressed harder against your g-spot, “Fuckin’ cum for me.”

It wasn’t directed at you, but the command had you convulsing, dipping into a high crescendo as you met your climax. Your walls fluttered around the two men as pleasure consumed you. White spots blurred your vision as you barely made out the feeling of Endo ripping his fingers from your warm cunt and moving his hand, still soaked with your slick, to Takiishi’s heavy balls. Moulding them beneath his fingers as he worked to push him over the edge, sitting up on the mattress to get a front-row seat at the debauched view in front of him.

Takiishi was wordless as he came, a guttural grunt forced from deep in his chest the only sound as he fisted the sheets on either side of you. Endo’s hand still milking his balls as he pumped white, hot spurts of cum inside your spent cunt, coating your velvety walls with his release.

“You’re so pretty when you cum.” Endo cooed, watching as Takiishi pulled out of your pulsing hole. His cock glistened with your essence as you left creamy pearlescent rings around the base of his cock.

Takiishi pulled back to assess the gape he’d left between your thighs, watching your hole pulse as it pushed some of his spend out of your abused hole. His cock bobbed in the air as he readjusted himself, reaching out to swipe two fingers against your messy folds to push his load back inside you. Offering the digits to you after as he smoothed them against your glossy lips like a man offering someone a chance to sample the sweetest ambrosia. And you took it gratefully, rolling your tongue around his fingers as you tasted the bitterness of him.

“Clean her up,” Takiishi commanded, pulling his spit-soaked fingers from your mouth as he wiped them against the side of your cheek, “Then you can have my cock.”

Endo gave his cock a final tug before moving his sticky hands to your thighs. Slipping his palms beneath the curve of your knees to manhandle you roughly, as though you were nothing more than a doll. And in reality, that’s exactly what you were— a toy for them to play with when they both got bored.

Your aching thigh held upright as he pushed your ass in the air, your back off the mattress as he pressed the flat of his tongue along your creamy slit. Collecting the cum that your fluttering walls had pushed out of you that drooled down towards your asshole as he cleaned you up.

“You taste so good,” He groaned, greedily pushing his tongue inside your stretched hole to slurp at the mixture Takiishi left behind as his nose nudged your overstimulated clit.

It wasn’t for your pleasure, it rarely was when it came to Endo and yet he still managed to have your eyes rolling back in a matter of minutes as you trashed against the dirty sheets.

Takiishi sat back to watch like he always did, his cock still half-hard and glistening with your slick. Just another part of the vicious cycle that you found yourself in, match after match in a sick game where he always came out as the victor.

Your hand flew out to card through Endo’s messy hair when you felt his teeth nip at your folds in his urgency, crying out as he shot you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, baby,” He cooed, his voice laced with condescension, “I thought you could handle it.”

This wasn’t for your pleasure, it was for his. And yet he still had the coil inside you snapping as he forced you into another gratifying climax. Crying out as your entire body shook from the intensity, your nails stretching against his scalp as he pulled away with glee. Your juices drooled down his chin as he looked to Takiishi, not to you.

“It’s my turn now, yeah?” Endo licked his lips with glee, shamelessly ogling Takiishi’s cock, “You can fuck me, if you want—”

And once again you were reminded of the real reason why you were here, why Endo had picked you in the first place. Another twisted idea is to try and give Takiishi the best time of his life. To prove his love and devotion to a man who would never give him the same kind of reward.

The cloudy lust-filled haze that shrouded your mind now transforms into an almighty storm that has thunder and lightning crashing down around you. Ruining the perfect fantasy you’d concocted and convinced yourself was real.

For now, you were just another player in their sick and twisted game. Because they both want everything from you, but they give you nothing in return.

[gumiluver]

21&29 with nanami; like 21 for the beginning and reader is still shy especially when 29 comes into play :) fem reader pls 🥺

you don’t know just how heavy I fuck w this idea I’m so here for it!! hope you enjoy luv!! <3

prompt 21: "If you wanted me to fuck you then you should've just said so, love. No need to be shy with me—you're my everything."

prompt 29: "Ohhh fuck—baby...did you know you could squirt?”

lover <3: nanami kento x afab!reader

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18--minors will be blocked (DNI), wc: 1.7k

cw: smut, nsfw, pwp, afab!reader, praise kink, manhandling, dom/sub dynamics, teasing, squirting, pet names (love, baby)

an: requests still open! check out the guidelines here for more info :)

border credit: @/cafekitsune, pic credit: oh5629289 on pinterest

“How long have we been together now love—two years and you’re still so shy f’ me?” Kento questions you, peppering soft kisses along the nape of your neck. His burly hands move along the sides of your hips, one slowly trailing upwards to cup and caress your left breast while the other molds around your hip, pulling a whine out of you in the process.

“C-can’t help it Ken’…you make me so flustered,” you whimper, pulling from his grasp to shy away from his intense gaze. He’s quick to grab your chin tho, forcing your eyes back to him to meet his sly gaze. Your shy nature easily amuses his, loving how quick you are to break your composure and fall for his ploy.

“Is that so, love? What makes you so flustered, hm?” he teases, an uncommon occurrence that makes your empty pussy clench helplessly. You whine and shift around in his hold, wanting to break away from your lover's grasp to hide under the covers and save yourself from his teasing. Your thighs squeeze together, aimlessly hoping to satisfy the deep ache that’s settling in your cunt and, of course, he takes note of that.

Nanami has always been so observant over you.

Like how he knows when you’re holding in your pleasure filled moans—the little scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow gives you away.

Or when you try and sneak a quick orgasm in after he’s warned you to hold it—the way your pussy clenches his tip for dear life even after he’s stilled your hips makes your plans damn well known to him.

And even when you’re trying to hide how horny you are—like how you are now—he can tell; from the way you shy away from his touch and overt your gaze as if he were the apple of sin you couldn’t help but sink your teeth in.

And he fucking loves it. He loves getting to see your agitated and flustered state—it inflates his ego like no other. To see you, the most beautiful being he’s ever laid his eyes on, become so enamored and needy for him has him feeling like a fucking god.

“What is it, baby? You can tell me. What is it that you need me to do—say it,” he demands, pressing you deeper into the wall, grinding his hard cock into your clothed pussy. The moan that spills from you fuels Nanami’s head with even more sinful deeds he’d love to corrupt you with.

“I-I need…” you trail off, panting like a bitch in heat over how flustered he’s got you. You let out a small whine, feeling his left knee shift between your legs to press against your slick mound, rubbing his strong thigh against you to provide you with the pleasure your body oh so craves.

“Yes? What do you need love,” he whispers, moving the hand on your hip to place a light grasp around your neck, holding you steady and meeting your gaze.

“Ahh!! K-Kento please!!” you beg, unsure of what exactly it was you were even begging for—but nonetheless, you plead. The pleasure pulsating through your sweet cunt sends shockwaves, hitting deep within your soul and making you preen.

“Say it. Be good and tell me what you need,” he groans out, patience wearing thin at the feel of your heat leaking through your panties and onto his slacks. His tan pants presenting a wet spot on the thigh that’s pushed up to your cunt—how lewd.

“N-need you…in me…” you whimper out, shamefully closing your eyes to save yourself from the embarrassment that is begging for dick.

But fuck did it make his cock throb hearing it.

The second he hears your pretty plea, Kento makes haste in stripping you of your clothes and sprinting to the nearest surface he can find.

“If you wanted me to fuck you then you should’ve just said so, love. No need to be shy with me—you’re my everything,” he coos, hovering his hulking body over your smaller one. Sheepishly, you glance away from him to gawk at his toned body. Ripples of muscle decorate his form as his tanned skin glows a pretty shade of pink, no doubt from the sheer excitement coursing through his veins.

He brings a hand upwards to cup your chin again, wanting to make sure that your wandering eyes don’t miss all the fun that’s about to start, “keep your eyes on me love—don’t look away.”

His demanding tone a clear contradiction to his usually gentle demeanor, making your mouth fall dry and your pussy run wet. You nod quickly, making direct eye contact with your lover's hazel eyes, and the hum of approval he lets out makes you clench your thighs that are hung around his waist.

Slowly, he rubs the tip of his cock against your folds, carefully collecting the slick that escapes from your pussy to thoroughly coat his cock—all while gazing intensely at you. After all, he didn’t want to miss seeing your face morphed into that pleasure-filled look he positively yearns to see.

A whiny cry of his name pulls him back to reality, ripping his gaze away from yours to stare down at your entrance and fuck—what a fucking mess.

“Ohhh baby, look at you,” he groans loudly, smacking the tip of his cock against your soaked cunny. Lewd ‘plap’ ‘plap’ ‘plaps’ radiate against the room with the way his heavy cockhead smacks against your clit. You’re quivering now, moving your hips to avoid the torturous teasing that your sorcerer subjects you to.

And just as you were about to whine for him to just put it in, you felt his heavy tip catch against your little hole. Gasping, you frantically reach for his biceps, nails digging into the skin as he slowly feeds you his monstrous cock.

“Ha’aaahh—kentooo!” you cry out, unable to comprehend the sheer stretch that is his girth. Regardless of how many times you’ve taken Kento, or how long he spends between your thighs prepping you, nothing could ever mentally prepare you for the actual feeling of his cock splitting you open.

“I know baby I know—just a c-couple more inches, fuckk,” he groans, glancing up at you every so often to make sure you’re still being his good girl and watching everything he does, “being so good for me.”

It felt like eons have passed before Kento finally sheathes himself fully into you. But, as soon as he’s inside you, he’s quick to unsheathe and start up a brutal pace.

“I-I can’t!! Oh f-fuck—slow do-own Ken’!!” you whimper out, his sharp thrusts breaking up your sentence. He fucks you with a passion that rivals that of a warrior, composed and dead set on his goal of fucking you to completion. He wants to ingrain himself into your womb, wants your pussy to react to his touch, his voice—and his alone.

“Fuuuuck this pussy’s perfect for me love, keep your legs spread—yeaaa just like that,” he grunts, absolutely lost in a haze of lust and pleasure. He’s so pussy drunk on you that he doesn’t even realize just how far gone you are. His usually observant nature completely bypassed the way he could only see the whites of your eyes, how your body is shaking—convulsing even, and just how sensitive your body is slowly starting to feel. Your pussy’s fluttering ridiculously, spasming around his thick shaft so much so that it felt like his cock was getting massaged by your womb. The wetness of your cunt made the nastiest sounds, filling the air with a lewd atmosphere that screamed sex.

But something felt…different.

It felt…off.

You jolt upwards—or at least tried to, considering how quick Nanami was to push you back down, not wanting to let up on his precious girl.

“K-Kento it feels weird!!” you cry, pushing at his arms to try and escape his ruthless pounding, but it’s pointless—he’s got you caged in his arms, right where he wants you.

“s’okay love, let me make it feel good—can feel you squeezing my cock so nicely, fuuckk” he lets out an animalistic grunt, pressing more of his body weight into you to immobilize you. You let out a long, languid moan, the feeling of his tip proding in places you didn’t even realize he could reach was making you see galaxies rather than stars. But yet again, that same foreign pressure began to burn deep within your womb, almost as if you were going to explode.

“N-nooo, p-please!! It feels like I—ahhh—…feels like m’gonna…” you trail off, unable to formulate your words. You’re panting so much that all you could do was move your hands to his chest in a measly attempt to push him away.

“Gonna what, love? Gonna cum? Come on baby, give it to me—cum for me,” he grunts out, his voice going octaves lower—so much so that you could feel the reverb of his voice hit your clit. His thrusts move quicker and with much more vigor, aiming to push you over the edge. Sneaking a rough hand down to your mound, he maneuvers his thumb to find your pink pearl and circles it in that specific way that makes you go fucking crazy.

And that final motion was what came of your undoing.

A bright flash of white obscures your vision, and the sheer ecstasy that courses through your veins sends you into an early release that spills all over your lover's pelvis. Nanami’s eyes widen in shock, seeing the guttural force of your orgasm shake the literal wind out of you makes his pride swell like none other. He couldn’t believe it; who could’ve known that his perfect little angel could do something so…lascivious—so sinful.

“Ohhh fuck—baby…did you know you could squirt?”

an: the way this man makes me go absolutely feral…anyways, I hope you all enjoyed & requests are still open!! Please be sure to check the guidelines before you submit a request!! <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

[adventuringblind]

Celebratory Kissing?

Logan Sargeant X Reader X Oscar Piastri

Genre: Fluffy smut

Summary: Oscar gets his first win and celebratory activities ensue.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, switch Logan if you squint, subspace for reader and Logan (eventually), SOFT dom Oscar (a simp is what he is), oral (both receiving), fingers, unprotected sex (don't try this at home kids), Praise, oral fixation, marking/biting

Notes: Another request! haven't done a smut in a while. I might be a wee bit rusty...

Side note: I finished this mere hours after I had to put my dog down 😬

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

A sprint win is still a win. An argument she is determined to put to an end should Oscar tell her otherwise. This is an achievement and should be recognized as such.

Logan appears in front of her. His body absolutely gleaming with sweat and hair tussled from his helmet. "You look wrecked."

"The good kind I hope." She hands him the water she's holding, and he holds eye contact while trying to drink it. Only to fail miserably and dump it everywhere.

"It's about fifty-fifty. Half like Oscar just ruined you and the other half like you might be sick."

"Jokes on you, I probably am!"

She stares at the McLaren garage where Oscar has been swept off to. "Do you think he'll accept it as a win?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure yet." Logan crosses his arms and follows her gaze. "We could always convince him it's a win." He wiggles his eyebrows. The last part coming out quieter.

"But you two have to race tomorrow!"

"And I'm not suggesting anything crazy, I would like to be able to walk still. That doesn't mean we can't make it good."

She hums thoughtfully at the proposal. "He won't go for it."

"Trust me, he will." Logan takes his hand in hers and swings their arms back and forth. "We've been doing this for almost two years now. I think we can bring it out of him."

"Lo, I swear to god, if you get us in trouble, I will never let you hear the end of it."

~~~~~

She really shouldn't have been so shocked when Logan dragged her back to the hotel promising Oscar a 'surprise' for his victory. The Aussie had given them a questioning look, but just shrugged them off. A quick word about staying hydrated was thrown in there.

Now she's sitting on the edge of the bed, freshly showered and patiently waiting for Logan to tell her what his plan it. He's been digging through Oscar's luggage for the last five minutes mumbling about disorganization.

Finally, he pulls out the tightly wound coil of rope and makes a triumphant 'ah-ha' sound.

"You were looking for rope?"

"Yup!"

"And what are you going to do with said rope? Oscar is the only one with enough patience to manage any kind of Shabari-" Logan shuts her up by starting to tie the rope around her wrist.

"This okay?"

"It would be more okay if you told me what we were doing." She huffs in annoyance.

Logan rolls his eyes dramatically. "Figured I'd put you down first. Get you to that headspace that drives him feral."

She has to suppress the whine that threatens to leave her throat. "What about you?"

"One of us has to be coherent until he gets here. He can do what he wants after that. We just need him to see you first." Logan finishes the rope on her wrists, successfully securing them behind her back. "Not saying I'm not enticing, mind you. I just know how to put you down faster than the other way around."

Which - okay, Logan isn't wrong there. Oscar seems to hit the sweet spot with him where she can't. Not for a lack of trying, she just does not have the tone of voice that send her American partner over the edge. "Well played, Sargeant."

"I thought it was clever." She can't see him, still settled behind her. It doesn't matter. She knows he's smirking; can feel it in the open-mouthed kisses he's placing on her spine. It's ridiculous how much simple touch affects her.

"You slip so easily."

"Shut up."

It doesn't help that she's completely bare. Logan still has his sweats on, which only makes her feel vulnerable.

His hands trace the outline of her curves. They drag against the more sensitive areas with a nimble sort of ease. She lets out a happy sigh in response.

His teeth latch onto her shoulder. He bites and sucks a mark that will definitely be visible tomorrow. Logan's always had an oral fixation. Constantly chewing on the ends of his hoodie strings, chewing on pens and pencils, the sheer number of lollys in the house is ungodly. Oscar has used this to his advantage too many times to count. Zoom meeting at the number one offender.

Logan manages to bite all the way down her arm. He slips himself lower to get a better angle on her hips. Fingers bruise her thighs with an impossibly iron grip that he really doesn't need to have.

He attaches to her neck, spinning her around so face him. Logan slides his wet tongue from her throat to her lips. He shoves his tongue down her throat without warning. Successfully making it so she can't breathe; suffocated but only him. Only Logan and his stupidly nimble tongue exist in this moment.

He lets her breath again, only to push her backward onto the bed. Saliva drips all across her body as his tongue slides downwards.

Logan's is panting against her by the time he's finally in between her legs. "You're terribly wet, baby." He licks everywhere except where she needs him most. "Do you want my tongue? Are you going to be good for me while we wait for Osc?"

"I promise - please Lo, need you."

All sense of coherency leaves the second Logan's tongue starts lapping up her arousal. His hands grip her thigs to keep them spread apart.

Her hands would be in his hair if they could. instead, they grip the sheets underneath her. Anything to keep somewhat present. It doesn't work. Her mind is already swimming while the blonde moans into her core, teeth grazing her clit and driving her to the brink of insanity.

Her legs shake as his tongue slips in and out of her. She chokes out his name, on getting close to the point of no return.

He pulls away. Not fully, just enough to stop contact. Went tongue retreating through glistening lips.

IN the background, the sound of the door unlocking startles them both. Logan frantically strips the rest of his clothes in record time, helps her to the floor and manages to get them both into some kind of waiting position.

"I hope whatever you to are planning involves sleep at some point-" Oscar flicks the lights on and she can feel his eyes burning holes into them. "Please tell me you haven't been like this for the last hour?"

They shake their heads no as Oscar looks them over. He grabs Logan's chin and swipes his tongue across the American's bottom lip. "You taste like her. Tell me what you did."

"Got her ready for you."

"I can see that. She's staring at us with that look in her eyes." Oscar moves to her next, dropping Logan's chin and softly patting her cheek. She keens into his touch, aching for some kind of contact again. "Is this my surprise? A good night with two beautifully obedient partners?" His voice is soft with a hint of a condescending tone.

"Wanted to make sure you know that it's a win." There it is. He has Logan in the palm of his hand, whining and slurring his words.

Oscar looks like he might melt. "I think I've already won everything I need to. I have you two kneeling in front of me. That being said, you've got me worked up and it would be a shame not to take advantage of your wonderful surprise."

Oscar undoes the rope around her wrists and helps them up off their knees and onto the bed. "Nothing hard tonight. I'd hate for you to be sore tomorrow, Lo." He kisses them both. Hands gripping their chins and alternating who's mouth he's exploring.

It's heaven. The place with these two. The fuzzy, floaty feeling in her mind only registers them and their touches.

"You did good with her, Lo. Bet you're ready to go, yeah?"

It's the first time she's actually seen how hard the American is. Oscar strokes him a few times, slowly, thumb swiping away the pre-cum that had leaked out.

Oscar jams two fingers into her without warning. "Wow, you really did get her ready. Was this all your tongue baby?"

A third finger slips in. She's dripping liquid all the way down to his wrist. The pathetic whining sounds she's making are outrageous and should be embarrassing. She's to blissed out to care.

Oscar manhandles them to where he wants. Her body shudders as she accepts Logan's length, straddling over the top of him. "Come on, love. You want to make him feel good, yes?" She'd want to do anything Oscar tells her to, really, but she can't say as much.

Regardless, she rolls her hips and moans at the feeling. Logan's mouth goes slack, and Oscar takes the opportunity to slam his dick into Logan's mouth.

It doesn't take her horribly long to get close again. The skin on skin and roll of hips. The impatience of Logan as he tries to buck his hips upward in time with her.

"Osc, please." He crashes his lips onto hers and moans into her mouth.

He pulls away just a tiny bit and clasps a hand around her throat. "Go ahead, cum for be."

Logan slams up into her a few more times before he finishes. She lets herself fall into the abyss of white-hot pleasure. Brain only focused on one thing.

She can hear Logan coughing as Oscar slams into his throat.

It all ends too fast for her liking, and she looks at Oscar expectantly. Waiting and wanting for more.

Oscar pulls her off Logan and lays her body down on top of him. The Aussie take his time exploring their shivering bodies. The amount of concealer they are going to need tomorrow will be ungodly.

"This doesn't feel like the celebratory kissing I'd hoped for," whines Logan.

"Tell you two what: If I can get second tomorrow then I'll make sure neither of you can walk for a week." Oscar huffs. "Also, I'd appreciate it if we could refrain from calling it celebratory kissing."

"But it's tradition!"

"I feel like we've came a bit farther then just celebratory kisses..."

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok, 90s AU, Yandere!AU Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: 21.4k+ Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite 10 years of living in Harlem. Her world begins to shift, and she starts to lose sight of dreams and reality, and at the center of it all is Hoseok, a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of deja vu, but she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), main character (somewhat) death (graphic), graphic violence, reader slowly losing her mind, heavy religious themes in a large chunk of this, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, hard dom Hoseok, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, blood play, blood drinking, begging for life, extreme emotional manipulation, growling, over stimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), DARK ENDING, dubious consent (mind control/mood control/literally cannot leave Hoseok's presence), reader is severely mentally ill by the end of this, demonic possession, Stockholm syndrome, this is not a cute demon romance, read at your own risk, stopping here since there’s a lot just let me know if I missed anything A/N: After posting a teaser for this fic two years ago, I finally got around to finishing it! I’m still working on my smut skills, so I apologize in advance, but I hope you can get down with my favorite (and extremely evil) demon man. Happy Halloween (or, to my fellow Pagans, Happy Samhain)!

Prologue || Listen to the Playlist || Cross posted on AO3: here

Nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

July 1997

"How are you feeling?"

I sighed, pulling open another box. Unpacking was always the worst part of moving, like some cosmic joke designed to break you down piece by piece. Plates stared back at me from the box, and I clenched my jaw. The one on top was chipped—another thing on my growing list of replacements. I pulled it out and set it aside, determined to deal with it later. The rest of the plates went away in the cabinet. The broken one would be tossed.

"I don't know," I confessed. "Mom died. I'm everywhere."

My brother's hum of acknowledgment was all I heard. Miles had always been a quiet, distant sort, barely speaking to our parents. Their deaths hit him hard, but more so with Dad than Mom. Dad had been the stable one, while Mom was a relentless storm—never satisfied, constantly pushing, always demanding. To her, a doctor and a lawyer weren't enough. Miles had always seen her as aggressive, unyielding, and ever discontented. And Dad? Well, his complacency had its own way of grating.

Miles had moved to Oregon right after graduating from FSU, never looking back. We'd made the trek to see him a few times, but he'd never returned the favor. My stint in New York had mended our relationship somewhat. He visited frequently and spent his summers with me, and after Dad passed, he made a point to see Mom at least once a year. I didn't mind the trips to Portland; my Jacksonville home had become his family's vacation spot.

"So am I," he said, his voice betraying a hint of fatigue.

They'd been at each other's throats, arguing constantly, with his wife loathing Mom. Yet, I knew Miles held some affection for her despite their tumultuous relationship. He'd never truly made her proud, and that haunted him. I understood, but when I moved back home, the dynamics shifted. Mom used me as a weapon against Miles, making me the favored child, the one who came back. Miles was the ungrateful one who'd married the wrong woman.

Mom always blamed Trinity for Miles' "bad attitude." Dad knew better. I knew better.

"So," Miles shifted gears, "when can we come and visit?"

I smiled, "I'll be out there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. So maybe next summer?"

"That's a long wait."

I chuckled, "Well, Rory starts school this year and Trinity's pregnant. You're just as busy as I am."

I'd been the one with the most on my plate for years. Mom, a real estate agent, rarely left home, while Dad ran a plumbing company. When Miles went to college, I was knee-deep in medical school applications. During my residency, Miles was grinding through law school. When I moved back to Florida, I was buried in ICU shifts while he graduated and started his own practice. He met Trinity, and the two became inseparable. Mom despised her, but I saw how they brought out the best in each other. My career-driven life had left me disconnected, and while Mom reveled in it, I resented it.

Kids changed everything for them. Aurora was their miracle baby. Trinity had struggled with fertility for years, and when they finally had a child, it was as if their world had transformed. My brother was spent, and Mom's resentment boiled over. She was always bitter that they hadn't uprooted their lives back to Florida for the grandchild. By then, Miles didn't care. He'd made the trips for Dad but after Mom's cruel comments about Trinity's weight and their daughter being "too pretty" to be her granddaughter, Aurora never set foot in the family home again.

"Aurora is driving me crazy," Miles groaned. "She won't stop talking about the baby."

"As a big sister, I can tell you she's just being a normal kid."

"I know that," I could almost hear his eye roll. "I'm just worried. It's still early, and I don't want her hopes to get too high. Trinity's scared of another miscarriage."

It would be her sixth.

"Try to stay positive, bub," I bit my lip, surveying the cluttered room. I'd never finish today. "If it happens, it happens. But don't go into it expecting the worst."

"Between Mom and this…" He trailed off.

I understood his fear. Trinity was a few years older than me, and her anxiety was palpable. At 38, any pregnancy brought its own set of worries. Last I heard, Trinity was considering getting her tubes tied if this one didn't make it. The heartache was becoming unbearable.

"Hey," I kept my tone gentle, knowing that riling him up wouldn't help. "Keep your head up. Her next appointment is soon. Ensure she's sticking to bedrest, and you'll be fine."

"What if it happens again?"

My heart broke for him. Miles had always been the rock, the one who seemed unshakeable. Seeing him this vulnerable starkly contrasted with the angry kid he'd been in high school. Mom had pushed his buttons mercilessly, and I had vague memories of our squabbles, but they paled compared to the constant battles he faced with her.

I wondered if he ever grasped how I felt. He always thought Mom liked me more, but it was more about her being able to overlook me. While he fought for her attention, nothing I did ever really mattered. It was like a fog followed me, obscuring me from their view. Sometimes, it would lift, and Mom would acknowledge me, but then it would return, and I was forgotten.

"You'll get through it," I assured him.

We chatted a bit more. Aurora was excited about kindergarten and had picked out new uniforms. She was obsessed with Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, and her new backpack reflected that. She'd even given her Prince Wednesday stuffed animal to the baby. It was everyday family life, but the emptiness in my chest grew. I longed for laughter and the innocent joy of children in my home.

"Trinity's calling me," Miles said, his voice muffled by distance.

"I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too, sissy."

I smiled faintly, "Later."

He hung up before I could say anything else. I glanced around the room, eyes narrowing at the boxes that seemed to taunt me with their mere existence. All of them were my own—mainly books, a few other odds and ends. The sadness that gripped me was relentless. I'd always had the most demanding job, the tightest schedule, and the deepest insecurities. Miles was angry, and I was desperate to be seen, so much so that I followed every command without question. Now, here I was, alone, surrounded by regret.

Dating felt like a cruel joke. My time in New York had alienated me more than anything else. That fog of invisibility from my childhood had returned with a vengeance. Coworkers would barely look at me for over a second; people on the street seemed oblivious to my presence and dates. They always ended badly. They weren't evil men but would forget my name within seconds. It felt like I wasn't real, like I existed on some other plane.

The only person who seemed to remember I existed anymore was my brother and his family. Dad's Alzheimer's had robbed him of any memory of us before he passed. Mom, too incoherent at Hospice, never stayed awake long enough to acknowledge my presence. Sometimes, it felt like Miles would momentarily forget me, only for my name to pop into his mind at predictable intervals—like clockwork, only calling on specific days and times, usually if he was planning a trip. It upset me more than I could recall, but now I wondered why.

"This place won't unpack itself," I muttered aloud.

I'd talked to myself so much it felt almost normal. I knew I needed to make friends, that without connections, I'd end up as lonely as my father, but the idea seemed futile. No one saw me clearly. No one ever had. When I searched my memories for anyone who had seen me, I came up empty. No one had ever really seen me. No one ever would. Instinctively, I knew this despite the facade of normalcy I tried to maintain. I had a job, a family, a house. I wasn't haunted. Or… maybe I was just being childish. I was simply forgettable, unremarkable. This I knew.

"I exist," I whispered, the words reverberating loudly in the stillness of my apartment.

The silence that pervaded my life mocked me with its omnipresence.

"How the hell do you get lost in a bar?"

"It's a lounge, sha," came a voice behind me.

What a peculiar dream. I took a bite of my sandwich, returning to the rude awakening that morning. I rarely remembered my dreams, if I had them at all. But last night had been different. I'd found myself in a dimly lit room with a man I couldn't recall clearly, dressed in white and speaking with an accent I couldn't place. I woke up before anything significant happened. The dream had been woefully uneventful.

The floor was almost eerily quiet tonight. Aside from the constant beeps and monitors scattered around and George Gilmore in room 11 watching football, no one spoke. The nurses here seemed less lively than I was accustomed to, their faces vacant, their words few. I kept to my small office most of the night, avoiding their station.

We'd had one death so far—a patient with a DNR who suffered a stroke shortly after midnight. Another woman had been pronounced brain-dead an hour ago. We'd wait until tomorrow to pull the plug, so her daughter could say goodbye. I didn't count her in my tally. The night crew had a way of seeing me even less than the others, and I didn't like them much.

"Hello, Doctor."

I jumped, startled. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. My irritation took me by surprise. I wasn't typically agitated; my feelings were either muted or overwhelming. He pushed his hair back, revealing messy chocolate brown locks, and held a clipboard stained with dubious marks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly under my gaze. I was already weary of his presence. "I was told you were new and thought I should introduce myself before leaving for the night. I'm Damon Glass, one of the anesthesiologists."

"Y/N Y/L/N," I replied, my voice flat and uninviting. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiled, showing a gap between his front teeth that reminded me of my father's. It was a rare sight among people my age. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to me. Dr. Whitlock is on the floor, and I believe Morgan Fletcher is on call."

I nodded, appreciating the information but ready for him to leave. My distaste had faded, but I preferred brevity in conversations, especially with outsiders. I disliked the feeling of interacting with them. It was why I preferred dealing with the nearly dead; they rarely spoke, and when they did, I knew they'd be too medicated to remember much. The families were more accessible to handle than the ones back in Florida.

It was odd how my thoughts could veer into such morbid territories. Almost as morbid as my enjoyment of overseeing dying patients. It was not as macabre as my unbidden glee at my mother's death alongside my brother, but it ranked high on my list of flaws.

"Have a good night," I said, returning to my computer to refresh my emails.

Dr. Glass seemed to take the hint, leaving with an awkward smile and wave.

August 1997

I stood outside the door, the muffled sounds of grief seeping through the walls like a relentless, jagged current. The family's sorrow was palpable, a heavy fog that followed me down the hallway. I hoped to catch them in a better moment, but the cruel truth of this place was that better moments were rare. With a resigned breath, I raised my hand and knocked. The room fell silent, and a strained voice called out, allowing me to enter.

Elizabeth Fraiser had lived a life filled with grace and elegance. Once a dancer whose feet had carried her across Europe's stages, she met her husband in Paris and married him there. They had settled in New York, where her days of ballet had given way to a quieter role as a ballet instructor in Jersey. She had raised a family, and her pride in her children was as evident as her passion for dance. She spoke of them with a joy that contrasted sharply with the emptiness of my own mother's words.

Now, Elizabeth was in the late stages of lung cancer. Her family had clung to the hope of letting her pass away at home, but the relentless pneumonia and ceaseless pain had pushed them to make the difficult decision to admit her here. Her condition had worsened sharply today, and her family was struggling to cope with the harsh reality.

"Good afternoon," I said softly, a gentle murmur in the oppressive silence.

"Nice to see you," Elizabeth's oldest son, Elijah, managed a weak smile. We both knew he wasn't fond of doctors, but he tolerated me because I didn't overstay my welcome. "Mom's been sleeping for a while."

I stifled a sigh. Her body was crumbling, and delivering bad news was never easy. The small comfort was knowing she would soon feel nothing at all. We planned to increase her morphine dosage and withdraw all other medications. Her family would need to agree, but I wasn't too concerned. Mary, her daughter, had debated extending her mother's life with her brothers.

"We're really at the end, aren't we?" Mary's voice was strained, her husband's arm around her for support. Among them, she was the calmest, but the edges of her composure were frayed. Her eyes were red, testimony to her unrelenting tears. "Will she be in pain?"

I explained our focus on alleviating her suffering. She would be less coherent in the coming days but occasionally rouse enough to interact with them between doses. We aimed to ensure she had the utmost comfort and relief in her final days. The youngest Percy took the news hardest and had to excuse himself. I held Mary's hand, appreciating the warmth of human connection. I prided myself on my bedside manner.

"I know home care wasn't ideal for you," I broached delicately, aware of their crowded lives and young children. "But I'm offering it as an option. Respite care is also available, though I understand it was stressful before. It's worth discussing."

Elijah shook his head firmly. Mary hesitated, but her husband's reminder to care for herself and their baby swayed her. Percy's wife raised concerns about her own health, cementing the decision. Elizabeth would remain with us in her final days. It was probably for the best—she was too frail and in too much agony without constant medication.

"Let me know if you need anything," I said, glancing at the family. The nurses are always available, and I'm on call until six. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?"

"Mom needs a bath," Percy reentered the room. A nurse had come by earlier, asking if we were ready to step out. Let them know they could come in."

The rest of my shift dragged on. Other families were terse and uncommunicative, and their responses were minimal. I understood their grief, but it did little to ease my weary spirit. The nurses seemed as disinterested in me as ever. I had long since given up trying to connect with them.

The air outside was crisp, almost biting. I walked to the subway, the city traffic too maddening to endure. I'd trade bumper-to-bumper frustration for the quirks of the subway any day. Last week, a man in a bunny costume rapped at six in the morning. The week before, a man argued with his reflection in the window. Last night, an elderly woman beside me commented on my disheveled appearance, lamenting that men didn't like that and worrying I'd die alone. I barely remember if I responded. I hated talking on the subway; her parting insult had stung me.

Tonight promised to be different. I left the hospital later than usual, after two code blues and an injury report for a nurse. Overdue paperwork and an insurance squabble later, it was past eight when I left. My walk was short, and the wait at the terminal was OK, but the train didn't arrive until 9:30. When I finally boarded, the car was almost empty.

Then a group of men entered. They were rowdy, pushing each other, their drunkenness a stifling cloud. I almost moved when they sat too close, but I didn't want to draw attention. I could feel their eyes on me. I clutched my bag tightly, fingers brushing the can of pepper spray hooked to its strap. I was almost home. Just three more stops.

"Hey," one of the men called out. I ignored him. "Hey, you."

I hated the subway.

"Leave her alone."

That voice caught my attention. I knew it—or thought I did. When I looked up, I was met with a stranger, yet his presence felt oddly familiar. He was striking, with tanned skin and sharp features that made his brown eyes stand out under the harsh fluorescent lights. He took the seat beside mine, and I didn't stop him. The men were back to their raucous laughter, and I was forgotten. I relaxed slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed.

"Sorry about them," he said, his warm and soothing voice a gentle tenor that evoked a sense of nostalgia. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Something about him tugged at the edges of my memory, yet he wasn't a celebrity, and I was sure I'd never met him before. Perhaps we'd crossed paths on the subway? My brain was playing tricks on me.

"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you."

Despite myself, I stole glances at him. I had to remind myself to breathe when I ventured past his neck. He was slender, but there was a subtle strength beneath his clothes. If he noticed my scrutiny, he said nothing. He returned to his book, but I was convinced that his eyes were still on me when I finally looked away.

I jolted awake, my body wracked with shivers despite the suffocating warmth of the blanket. The room was deathly silent, save for the moonlight streaming through the window like a spotlight on a stage set for a performance I never auditioned for. I rolled over, trying to bury myself deeper into the cocoon of my blanket, but then I heard it—a voice, soft and faint, yet carrying an unsettling authority.

“Oh, Y/N,” the voice crooned, dripping with a sinister allure. “It’s time. Come to me.”

Confusion and dread clawed at my insides as I stumbled out of bed. The room was a far cry from my own—stone walls, thick and oppressive, casting shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent glee. The floor beneath my feet was icy, a stark contrast to the comfort of my bed. My nightgown, white and delicate, felt like a mockery in this alien environment.

This wasn’t my room.

The voice came again, seductive and commanding. “Y/N, come out, come out, now. I’m waiting for you.”

Compelled, I moved to the window. Below, in the moonlit expanse of the lawn, stood the man from the subway. His face was eerily illuminated, his head tilted back as if inviting me to join him in the darkness below. His eyes—glowing a brilliant gold—seemed to reach out to me, promising unspeakable things if only I would take the leap.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He raised a hand, crooking a finger in a silent invitation. It was as if an invisible thread was pulling me toward him. Entranced, my feet moved on their own accord. Barefoot, the cold stone beneath me was a cruel contrast to the warmth I’d just left behind. I wandered through hallways and passages that felt simultaneously foreign and intimately known, descending into the shadows where he waited.

As I emerged onto the lawn, his smile made me shiver. He approached, his fingers brushing the side of my face—teasing, tantalizing, yet never quite touching.

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “So very long. And now, now you’re mine.”

A fragment of my mind screamed in protest, shouting that I didn’t belong to him, that I didn’t even know who he was or why I was here. But a deeper, more primal force tugged at me, pulling me closer until I was nearly touching him. His presence was unsettlingly soothing, and I took a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze.

“That’s right, my lamb, come closer,” he coaxed.

An overwhelming longing surged through me—irrational, illogical, yet so profound that I couldn’t resist. I needed him to touch me, to make the connection complete. I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck to the moonlight.

He responded immediately, his fingers trailing along my throat, their cool touch sending shivers through me. I gasped, my body lighting up with each delicate brush.

“More,” I heard myself plead, pressing closer.

“Say it,” he demanded, his arms enveloping me in a possessive embrace. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. I’m yours.”

He cradled my head in his hand, leaning in. His lips were smooth against my skin, but his teeth were sharp as they pierced through flesh. I screamed as he drank deeply.

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, my hands clutching at my throat, searching for any sign of injury. The skin was intact, unbroken. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart that felt as though it might burst from my chest.

The lamp flickered on with a click, casting a harsh, unwelcome light that made me squint and shield my eyes. Grabbing my robe and a cup, I shuffled out of the room, the chill of the hallway hitting me like a slap. I closed the door quietly behind me, trying not to disturb the oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. The bathroom, bathed in the sickly fluorescent glow, was as deserted as I’d hoped.

I filled my cup halfway with water from one of the sinks, then leaned against the cold, sterile tiles, watching my reflection in the mirror as I took slow, deliberate sips. The dream—the one that had shaken me awake—felt so unnervingly real.

I traced the line of my neck with trembling fingers, the blue vein just beneath the surface. What kind of twisted message was my mind trying to send me with that nightmare? It had been a full-on gothic horror—a relic of some crumbling English manor, not the kind of place I ever imagined myself visiting, unless I was buried in a pile of classic literature.

And him. The monster. Even now, as I closed my eyes, I could still see his face—a blend of dark allure and cruel beauty. His eyes, oh, those eyes. They’d held me in thrall, made me willing to surrender to any demand he made. I could almost feel his cold touch, see his smile that promised both ecstasy and agony.

Wasn’t the whole vampire-mother-stuff supposed to be a metaphor for sex? Maybe that’s what my subconscious was trying to shove in my face—sex, or the glaring void where it should have been in my life.

I studied my flushed reflection, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to shake off the nightmare’s grip.

The man sat next to me again. It had been a week since I last saw him, and my body still reacted to his presence. Today, I admired his chiseled jawline and elongated face. He was an exquisite oval with a strong profile. This time, he caught me looking and smiled shyly.

"I'm Hoseok."

The name sent a shiver, stirring something familiar and unsettling. I quickly brushed off the uneasy feeling. It was probably my own insecurity.

"Y/N," I replied, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

He resumed reading, and I focused on crocheting a stuffed rabbit for my nephew. Miles had called that morning to update me on Trinity's appointment. The toy wasn't perfect—far from it—but I wanted to give it a try.

"How would you feel about dinner?" Hoseok's voice broke through my thoughts.

I paused my knitting. "I enjoy dinner. Who doesn't?"

He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that made me blush. "Cheeky."

I bit my lip, unsure if it was a compliment. I felt a pang of embarrassment, struggling to maintain my composure. The first date I'd been asked on since undergrad, and I was fumbling. Miles would have a field day.

"Would you like dinner with me?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Hoseok's laughter resonated deeply within me, and I felt a jolt of warmth as he slid closer, his knee brushing against mine. He was impossibly warm. Instinctively, I shifted away, uncomfortable with his proximity. There was something off about him, an unsettling vibe that I couldn't quite place.

But then he smiled, and that soft, disarming grin evaporated all my doubts. He was dazzling. My eyes fluttered shut as his cologne enveloped me, weakening my knees. I had to remind myself to breathe. He was captivating.

"Do you like Italian?" he asked, his voice deeper now.

I nodded, struggling to steady my breath. Panic and embarrassment churned within me, but I couldn't ignore the physical response. My mind was flooded with inappropriate thoughts of Hoseok, vivid and intrusive. I gasped, feeling a flush of heat I hadn't experienced in a long time. 

"Does two weeks work?"

Snapping out of my daze, I looked at Hoseok and nodded. 

"I'm off on the 27th."

He smiled, and I stared at his teeth longer than necessary. They seemed different—sharper, perhaps, with redder gums. I blinked, reassured that they were just as I remembered. My sleep deprivation must be getting to me.

"Meet you here?"

We agreed to meet at six. I'd catch the 5:30 train to ensure I arrived before him. As the subway pulled into my stop, I waved goodbye and stepped out, only to realize I hadn't asked him where we were going. The thought lingered until the following day.

The voice is louder now, sharper, as if it’s cutting through the fog of my half-sleep. “Y/N? I’m waiting for you. Come to me now.”

I hear it, feel the tug of it dragging me towards him, but fear clamps down on me like a vice. My bare feet are numb on the cold, wet grass as I stumble through the twisting maze of hedges, trying to escape the invisible force that pulls me like iron to a magnet.

My breath hitches, coming fast and uneven, as I sprint around corners, the long white gown tangling around my legs and tripping me up. I’m not sure anymore if I’m searching for a way out or if I’m trying to find him.

I turn another corner, my ankle twists and pain shoots through my leg as I crash into an open space—a small, white fountain sits in the middle, surrounded by benches.

Through the flickering light of the moon dancing on the water, I see him. Not a figment of my imagination, but there he is, standing as he promised, waiting.

Hoseok walks towards me with a slow, deliberate grace. He bends, lifting me effortlessly from the mess of my tangled gown and into his arms. I feel a peculiar sense of completeness as he sits on a bench, cradling me like a precious artifact.

“Were you bringing me your gift? Or were you trying to run from me?” His voice is soft, almost tender, and yet it cuts through me. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes. I’m lost, adrift in confusion.

I’m mesmerized by his flawless beauty. My fingers move of their own accord, reaching towards his face. That smile returns, and I see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“You may touch me.” His lips part slightly, and I press my fingers against them. His tongue flicks out, wrapping around my fingertip and drawing it into his mouth. Before I can react, I feel a sharp bite.

I gasp as he licks the blood that wells up from the small wound. “A small treat,” he murmurs. “That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

I find myself nodding, helpless under his gaze.

He licks my finger one last time, savoring the taste before swallowing. “They told me you’d be extraordinary, worth every moment of waiting. Yet, your taste is beyond anything I ever dreamed.”

My body reacts to his words and his touch—still innocent but making my skin feel like it’s stretched too tight, like I might explode. I let my head fall back, exposing my neck to him as his tongue traces a path up the sensitive skin.

And then he bites.

I bolt awake, heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest. I fumble in the dark, reaching for the light switch, feeling profoundly alone with Rose away for the weekend.

I throw off the covers and stagger to the mirror, desperately checking my neck. There’s nothing there, no sign of the bite.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I grab a blanket and a book, and huddle in the hall lounge, surrounded by the harsh light of every lamp and the incessant flicker of the television, trying to drive away the lingering shadows of the nightmare.

September 1997

I eased into my seat, the familiar weight of my bag pressed to my left side and draped an arm over it as if to claim it for my own. It was the first night off from the relentless grind of being on-call since mid-August and the first real night out in years. I’d never been much for the party scene, and medical school had only sharpened that aversion. The last time I went out for drinks was nearly six years ago, a fleeting memory of bar hopping that I’d abandoned early, too exhausted to keep pace with my friends.

Tonight, however, felt different. There was a nagging sense that I was misremembering that long-ago night, like a foggy half-remembered dream where something vital was missing. My life in New York had become a blur of medical texts and sleepless shifts, the grueling 24-hour days erasing the finer details of my existence. My final year had been a carousel of discomfort, but the specifics eluded me, lost in exhaustion. Perhaps a creep of some sort, some misguided doctor with a name I couldn’t quite grasp—maybe that’s what had soured my memory. 

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to find Hoseok’s contact. The old SeaTAC was still a relic of the past, but I clung to it out of stubborn habit. Despite its age, it was a lifeline to the outside world, a way to escape the pager’s relentless beeping. I longed for the day when I could toss the landline, but the cost of cell phone minutes constantly reminded me of its importance. With his endless chatter, Miles made sure I burned through those minutes with alarming frequency.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice was silky, a comforting balm after a long stretch of clinical detachment.

“Hey,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just got on.”

“See you soon,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. I could almost picture the smile on his face, and it made me smile in return. His words seemed more benign over the phone, starkly contrasting the intensity of our recent encounters. “Save my spot.”

The car was beginning to fill up, Friday night revelers claiming their space, making it nearly impossible to save a seat. I promised I’d try, even as I felt the crushing inevitability of the crowd. His chuckle was soft, almost intimate. 

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

I bit my lip, the endearment both flattering and unsettling. A tiny voice in my head cautioned me, even though Hoseok had never used his terms of affection demeaningly. The voice grew louder when he wasn’t around, whispering warnings I couldn’t entirely dismiss. It was strange, this constant inner debate.

“I’m going to hang up,” Hoseok said, his voice a sensual murmur. I moved the phone away from my ear, puzzled by the seductive undertone. Was he implying something more?

Was I expecting more from tonight?

“I’m running up my minutes,” he laughed, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

“Oh,” I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. “Sorry. See you in a bit.”

The recurring dreams of him were becoming a distraction. My nights were plagued with vivid, unsettling fantasies, leaving me restless and frazzled. I wiggled in my seat, pressing my thighs together to quell the unsettling arousal. Reality would surely disappoint, no matter how compelling he seemed in my dreams. I resolved to hold off on sex for now. I didn’t want to tarnish his allure with premature intimacy.

“Why did you want to be a doctor?” Hoseok asked, his fingers entwining with mine.

The wine started hitting, and the night air was crisp against my skin. Hoseok was the perfect gentleman; the evening was a beautiful respite from my routine. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, and sighed.

“I wish I could say it was for noble reasons,” I said, my voice tinged with melancholy. “In truth, I just wanted my family to notice me. I thought graduating medical school would make them see me, but it never quite worked out that way.”

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully beside me. I turned my gaze away, feeling a strange mix of comfort and sadness.

“None of us are perfect,” he said after a pause, his voice low and contemplative. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and my choices haven’t always been noble.”

I leaned closer, savoring his warmth and intoxicating scent. Despite my fatigue, the night felt lighter, almost magical. He was mesmerizing, and I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected. 

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said with a soft grin, snuggling closer.

“Well,” he said, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his side. “You haven’t had me all to yourself yet.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a curious blend of fear and delight. The night had been a rollercoaster of emotions—enchantment and apprehension intertwined. Hoseok’s smile was disarming, melting away my unease, but I made a mental note to reflect on my feelings once I was alone. He seemed almost too perfect, and that nagging pit in my stomach grew again before vanishing. 

“I don’t want the night to end,” Hoseok whispered, his breath warm against my ear as we waited for the train. “I’m having such a good time.”

I smiled, “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine longing.

“Soon,” I promised. “I’m getting the next few weekends off now that the other fellowship student is starting. My supervisor is trying to get me off every Saturday.”

“It’s a good thing my boss is flexible,” Hoseok purred, causing my heart to race. “Otherwise, I’d never get to spend time with you.”

I wanted to be annoyed by his clinginess, to remind him I wasn’t his girlfriend, but instead, I found myself grinning. His words made me feel seen and appreciated. Despite the anxiety he sometimes stirred in me, I was eager to be close to him. He looked at me so intently that I was willing to overlook my reservations. Maybe it was just butterflies?

“Where do you work?” I asked, trying to divert my thoughts.

Hoseok was a bartender at a speakeasy in Manhattan, where he’d worked since it opened. He had hinted at it throughout the evening, teasing me with its obscurity. 

“It’s a smaller place,” he said amusedly. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me,” I challenged, my heart pounding strangely.

“Dauphine.”

The name hit me like a jolt. Images of dimly lit corridors and crimson hues flashed in my mind. I was sure I’d never been there, but the name stirred a disquieting sense of déjà vu. The dream from July, the man from my dreams—there was a connection, but it eluded me. 

As we stood in the bustling, well-lit area, I edged away slightly, unsettled. Hoseok was a charming gentleman, but the name “Dauphine” had ignited an inexplicable dread. Despite his humor and warmth, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something—or maybe I was just afraid of what I might find.

I stole a furtive glance at him, and it felt as though I’d known him far longer than the scant time we’d spent together. His face was oddly familiar, like a recurring image in a dream half-remembered. I had met him before, somewhere.

“No, you haven’t,” his voice cut through the night like ice. It was cold, detached, far from the warmth he’d shown me all evening. A shiver snaked down my spine, and I forgot to breathe. His grip on me tightened as though sensing my legs would buckle beneath me. “You’ve never known me before.”

The fierce scowl on his face startled me. His eyes, glowing with an eerie golden light, seemed to burn through me. Everything about him felt otherworldly like he was something less than human. A fragmented memory of a man sitting alone at a bar surged up, only to dissolve into nothingness.

“I am Hoseok,” he whispered, his voice weaving a heavy spell over my senses. “I am your boyfriend. We’ve been together a long time, and we’re in love. You just tripped and hit your head.”

A sudden jolt of pain made me wince and try to pull away from him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was deceptively tender, and I sighed through the pain.

“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “Does it look bad?”

Hoseok’s grin was unsettling, a blend of fake sympathy and amusement. 

“You were lucky this time. Just a barely noticeable red mark.”

I chuckled at my own clumsiness. I wasn’t usually this awkward, but my heel caught on a pavement crack. I gingerly rubbed my ankle and was relieved to find it unscathed. Even my heel had survived.

“Jeez,” I said, looping my arm through his. “I completely forgot what we were talking about.”

Hoseok’s smile broadened, clearly enjoying my disoriented state. I rolled my eyes and reached over to gently tap his chest. He responded by sticking out his tongue, which only made me scoff at his childishness.

“We were talking about work,” I said.

I nodded as if on autopilot. “How’s the bar?”

Hoseok worked at a swanky speakeasy in Manhattan, though I was trying to remember its name. Despite being together for what felt like ages, I had never been there. I was never one for bars, while Hoseok reveled in the place’s gothic charm. The name eluded me again as I tried to recall it.

“Tae’s excited,” he chuckled. “With Halloween around the corner, business will pick up.”

I hummed, my thoughts still lingering on the name. I had thought his boss was Tristan, but I must have misremembered. I shrugged off the nagging thought.

“You should stop by the bar,” I heard myself say, sounding oddly mechanical.

“Sounds fun,” he replied, his tone laced with a predatory edge.

Looking back on that night, it’s almost laughable how easily he swayed me. The way he possessed me was undeniable; soon, he would own every inch of me. Those dreams of him were his twisted way of showing love—how much he craved to touch me, to keep me bound to him. It’s sick and vile, and the thought of what we’d become makes me nauseous, yet to him, it’s love. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders.

I remember leaning into his side, kissing his cheek as if I was floating. His presence was intoxicating. Even now, I can feel the ghost of his touch and his body's heat. It’s a twisted sort of longing I have for him. This place is cold and dark without him, without his reminders of how much he cares and wants me to scream for him. Here, time stands still, and life continues in a strange loop. I can’t say whether I’m alive or dead, but I know it no longer matters. Once I entered this world, my life ended and began anew. Hoseok made me feel both alive and dead simultaneously.

And as I write this, my heart aches for him. My fingers tremble at the thought of him returning to claim me again. The pain he inflicts makes my heart pound and my stomach clench. I miss him.

It both sickens and excites me.

October 19, 1997

My bones groaned and cracked like ancient floorboards beneath my weight as I fought to catch my breath. Sweat slicked my skin, and I began patting myself down, half-expecting to find something tangible to anchor me to reality. My surroundings slowly came into focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above stung my eyes, but their sterile brightness offered an odd comfort. I was at home, cocooned in thick blankets that had twisted themselves around my legs. The bed beneath me creaked with the effort of supporting my restless form. I sighed, flopping back down, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still clung to me like a shadow.

The dreams had become relentless, evolving from vague echoes of past terrors into something far more insidious. These weren't fueled by mere fear but by an overwhelming, consuming desire that felt dangerously close to swallowing me whole. The weekends were the worst, and after seeing Hoseok, they had turned almost infernal. He was always there in my dreams, his skin smooth and flawless, his deep brown eyes burning into mine with an intensity that left me gasping for air.

Every time I closed my eyes, his image flickered behind my eyelids like a dark, seductive film. The scenes always ended the same way: I would climax, my body convulsing in a fevered rhythm, while I looked up to see his face contorted in ecstasy. His deep, guttural groans would reverberate through me as his grip tightened on my skin. He would finish inside me, and my spent body would collapse beneath him. He would drape himself over me, showering my chest with tender, lingering kisses. The setting varied—my bed, a chilling, unfamiliar void, or a dimly lit lounge—but the conclusion was always the same.

With a sigh, I fumbled for my phone, my fingers brushing the cool surface. An email from Hoseok awaited me, and a smile crept across my face despite the haze of exhaustion. He was the epitome of a perfect gentleman—never pushing beyond my boundaries, never demanding more than I was willing to give, always accommodating his schedule to mine. Even in matters of intimacy, something many men would aggressively pursue, he always respected my pace. In the hectic blur of the past month, we hadn’t had a moment alone. He hadn’t even broached the topic. As I thought about it, I couldn't recall the last time we'd been intimate outside of these dreams.

From: Hoseok Jung Subject: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 03:05   To: Y/N Y/L/N Good morning, love, I'm sorry for the early message, especially since this is one of your rare mornings off. I hope I didn't wake you. I'm heading home from work and couldn't stop thinking about you. Taehyung is throwing a simple Halloween party this year, and luckily, it falls on a Friday. Would you like to join me? I think it could be a lot of fun. I love you. Hobi

I grinned and began typing my reply.

From: Y/N Y/L/N Subject: RE: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 04:15  To: Hoseok Jung Hobi, Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I was tangled up in strange dreams and was deep asleep when your email arrived. Sadly, I doubt I'll fall back asleep anytime soon, so I plan on catching up on Buffy or Beyond Belief—whichever's on. Hopefully, I won't get stuck with reruns of Seinfeld, not really my thing. Lucky for me, I'm working mornings this week. I'd love to come to your party. Call me when you wake up. Love you, too. Y/N Y/L/N, M.D.   Palliative Care Physician, New York-Presbyterian Hospital

It barely registered that, to my knowledge, I had never said "I love you" to him before. I had never really pondered the oddity of our relationship. My memories of our time together were a disorienting blur, but I never questioned it. It wasn't entirely my fault—he had ensnared me, body and soul, and any unresolved threads might make it harder for him to maintain control. Regardless of our tangled history or how elusive it seemed; I was simply glad he wanted to see me at that moment.

I lay huddled in my bed, my body a coiled spring of anticipation, each nerve ending tingling with the foreboding that had stalked me all day. His voice had been a persistent whisper, a sultry hum that turned my name into a haunting lullaby. It was a melody wrapped in an insatiable longing, a caress of words that promised more than I dared to imagine.

Tonight, I wanted to resist. I tried to muster the strength to ignore the insidious pull, that relentless tug drawing me toward him like a moth to a flame. The very idea of defying him churned my stomach with a nauseous dread. But the threads of his influence were woven so tightly around me, it felt like trying to escape from silken chains.

Then it came, cutting through the murkiness of my thoughts like a scythe. His voice, now sharper, more insistent, shattered the fragile veneer of my resistance.

“Y/N. Come to me now.”

With a sudden jolt, the pretense of defiance evaporated. I threw off the blankets as if they were chains, leaping out of bed and flying through the darkened hallway. My feet barely touched the ground as I hurtled down the stairs, each step propelled by an unrelenting force, dragging me inexorably toward him.

He waited for me in the foyer, bathed in an eerie glow that made him look like an apparition from a fevered dream—or perhaps a nightmare. His smile was both welcoming and chilling, a promise wrapped in malice. When he took my hand, his lips brushed against my fingers with a cool, electric touch that set my entire body aflame.

The intensity of my reaction embarrassed me, but he tilted my face up to meet his gaze, shaking his head with a look of almost pity.

“Your blood knows what it wants, my lamb. You must let your mind follow.”

My face burned with fierce heat, but the compulsion pulling me to him was too overpowering to resist. He guided me through the meticulously manicured gardens to a secluded alcove framed by dense, sculpted hedges. He seated himself on a bench, drawing me onto his lap with a practiced grace that made me feel both cherished and helpless. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, never left mine, promising secrets I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Are you ready, my lamb?”

Without a second thought, I bared my neck to him. The desperate craving for the bliss and torment of his bite had consumed me completely; waiting was no longer an option.

He lingered, his tongue tracing a tantalizing path along the delicate skin of my throat. The sensation was almost unbearable, and I found myself begging with a voice that sounded alien, strained.

“Please.”

And then he bit.

I shot awake, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. I had fallen asleep hunched over my desk at the hospital, my neck stiff from the awkward angle. Rubbing away the ache, I cursed the book that had plagued me with such vivid nightmares. I needed to talk to my brother again; this couldn’t be anything but a cruel trick of the mind.

The glowing digits on my alarm clock mocked me with their late hour. I stood up, stretching and feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. I changed into a t-shirt and shuffled toward the bed, determined to banish the lingering unease.

As I passed the window, something froze me in place. I looked down into the parking lot and saw him standing under a flickering lamppost, his gaze locked onto mine with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

It was Hoseok—or at least, it looked like him. But the resemblance was grotesquely twisted. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, a sickly luminescence that cut through the night like a malevolent beacon. His skin was peeling away in ragged strips, as if he were shedding himself like a decaying husk. This was no longer my Hoseok. He was a creature of nightmares, a monster forged from my darkest fears.

My fingers clung to the windowsill as I stared, my body paralyzed by the overwhelming urge to run to him, to give in to the magnetic pull of his presence. I watched as his lips moved, shaping a single word that seemed to echo through the chill of the night.

“Soon.”

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the vision to vanish. When I opened them again, the parking lot was empty, the lamppost casting its pallid light over a sea of unmoving cars. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, snatched my blanket and pillow, and stumbled back to the on-call room, desperate to escape the sinister call that still haunted the dark corners of my mind.

October 28, 1997

"What should I do?" the nurse asked, her name slipping from my mind like a shadow lost in the night.

"Give them some space," I replied, my gaze fixed resolutely away from the room across the hall. Elizabeth had just passed away, her DNR a cold, ironclad barrier that left no room for last-ditch efforts. Her family needed their final moments with her while we waited for the body to be transported. Mary was still wailing into her husband's chest, and Elijah looked like he'd been dragged through a storm, barely able to stand. Percy stood like a marble statue, his eyes glazed over while his wife clung to him. The sight of Percy’s frozen, unseeing expression twisted my gut in a way I couldn’t ignore. It reminded me too much of what I feared—and I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of grief.

"Should we get them out of the room?" another nurse asked, her thick southern drawl hinting at Memphis. "Seeing her like that can’t be good for their mental well-being."

I shook my head. "Let them have their last moments in peace. Offer condolences and check on them regularly."

I fiddled nervously with my ID card, the familiar unease gnawing at me. My wounds from the day seemed too fresh. Miles surfaced in my thoughts again, and I resolved to call my brother on my way home tonight. Hoseok wasn’t working tonight, so he wouldn’t join me on the subway.

"I'm going to check in with 211," I murmured, watching Percy leave the room, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "I’ll be back in 5-10 minutes to see if the family needs anything. Just make them as comfortable as you can."

"You got it, doc."

The subway ride home was a silent affair. My headache throbbed like a relentless drum, and my stomach churned uneasily. The day had been heavy with more deaths than usual. Elizabeth’s family had eventually calmed down, but their kindness on their way out hadn’t eased the knot in my chest. I knew their pain intimately.

I called my brother as I made my way to the subway. Despite his complicated feelings about our mother, he was always supportive. The conversation ended abruptly when Aurora entered the room, demanding his attention. Miles had never truly understood my emotions; I doubted he ever tried.

The short walk home from the subway was a blessing, though the cold night air bit at my skin. I was grateful for the proximity of my apartment, but the streets were alive with noise—tourists laughing, gang members shouting outside their apartment complexes. I was relieved to escape the chaos, though my street wasn’t entirely free of foot traffic. My old apartment in East Harlem had been more of a hustle, with late-night carpooling with a coworker whose name eluded me. I knew it started with an 'A,' but the memory only worsened my headache. I set the thought aside for another time.

After selling the family home in Florida and vacation properties scattered across the country, I’d managed to buy a house on Astro Row at 100th and 30th Street. It was an old building—too expensive for its size, and initially, it seemed far from beautiful. But over time, it grew on me. I loved the brownstones, the front porches, the grand trees, and the quiet streets. I couldn’t imagine leaving. Even the renovations I’d planned were postponed. The charm of the old place had won me over, and I’d made peace with its quirks. I even got along with my neighbor, a small but welcome relief.

Tonight was quieter than usual, and none of my neighbors seemed awake. I missed the old man at the end of the street who used to sit on his porch, sipping coffee and waiting for dawn. It was nearly 4:30 AM. I shrugged and continued; my mind focused on the comfort of my bed.

Fumbling for my keys, I cursed quietly when my pockets were empty. My purse, a cavernous mess of clutter, swallowed everything. As I dug through it, a sudden burst of laughter behind me made me freeze. Two women strolled down the sidewalk, their laughter echoing off the walls. They were both stunning, their pale skin glowing under the moonlight. One of them locked eyes with me, her gaze piercing through the darkness. She looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew me.

"Hello," she said, her voice as light and tinkling as a bell.

"Hi," I replied, feeling strangely off-balance.

The other woman seemed perplexed. Her beauty was almost ethereal, with blonde hair as pale as her skin and eyes as dark as night. Her gaze swept over me with an unmistakable disdain, her teeth bared in a slight sneer. Yet, despite her apparent coldness, she was undeniably beautiful.

"How are you?" the first woman asked, her voice soothing.

"Fine," I responded, my throat dry. "And you?"

The nagging headache intensified as I tried to make sense of the encounter, a sense of déjà vu wrapping around me like a tightening noose. The women moved on, their laughter fading into the night, leaving me with a lingering unease that clung to me like the shadows of my dreams.

She studied me, her face a shifting canvas of emotions before settling into a look of genuine confusion. I tried to place her but struggled. There was something crucial I needed to remember, something just out of reach, but my mind remained stubbornly blank. A frantic urge to call Hoseok seized me.

The realization hit me like a cold slap. Why did I think I needed him? I tried to convince myself I could handle this alone. But deep down, I knew I needed him here. He could make this headache vanish, soothe the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

“What's your name?” she asked, her smile both disarming and unsettling, making my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.

“Y/N,” I replied, feeling dazed and disconnected.

“Cold night, Y/N,” she purred, her gaze never wavering. “You should get inside.”

I nodded absently, my words failing me as I fumbled with my keys. The blonde woman's giggle, filled with an eerie excitement, made me shiver. I wanted to retreat, to escape this strange encounter. I shoved the key into the lock, eager to shut out the unsettling night.

“Y/N,” the first woman’s voice halted me, her tone chillingly smooth. Neither of them had moved since they stopped. The blonde’s smile remained fixed, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet the other woman’s eyes. “Be careful out here. You never know who’s wandering around.”

I nodded, turning the doorknob, but her voice stopped me again.

“I work at a bar in Midtown,” she said, her words snagging my attention like a hook. I had always known she worked at a bar, but why was it important? “It’s called Dauphine. Ever heard of it?”

Yes, I wanted to say. That place haunted my nightmares, a dark shadow that clung to the edges of my memory. But I couldn’t piece together why. Hoseok would know. He’d make everything better. No, my mind screamed—he’d only make it worse. I couldn’t say how I knew this, but I wanted to listen to the little voice inside me tonight. Something was very wrong.

“You should come by sometime,” she offered. “We’re on 1st and East 54th in the far corner of the Diamond District. If you need anything, just ask for ‘Bootsy.’”

Bootsy…

“Are you okay with cherry liquor?” she asked.

I let go of the doorknob and turned to face them fully. I couldn’t meet either of their eyes. The sensation was all too familiar. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you know Hoseok? He’s my boyfriend.”

The blonde hissed sharply. Bootsy gasped, her face a mask of surprise and something darker, more shadowy. It was clear that Hoseok was connected to these people, tangled up with my memories of New York, the root of all my confusion. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

No, I shook my head. Was that what he wanted me to believe? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yes,” Bootsy finally replied. “I’ve known him for many, many years.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I slammed the door shut and locked it. The blonde finally moved, stepping away from Bootsy and muttering something I couldn’t catch. She disappeared down the street, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

“What’s wrong with me?” I muttered through the door, my voice tinged with desperation.

Bootsy’s response came through with a sorrowful edge. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, my headache pounding with such intensity that I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice breaking. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like I remember things but not really, and everything goes blank every time he’s around.”

Bootsy’s eyes, a deep crimson, darted around nervously. They seemed to glow faintly, like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, glossy and sleek. Bootsy wasn’t human. What she was, I couldn’t say. But she was somehow tied to the nightmares that plagued me, and Hoseok’s shadow loomed larger than ever.

“He’s a demon,” she whispered hurriedly, her words laced with a fear that seemed almost tangible. “I can’t tell you exactly what he’s done. I’ve never known him to keep someone around for this long, but whatever you’ve done to make him want you seems to have spared your life. You should have died back in ’92 with your friend.”

A friend? Someone else had been involved? Hoseok was a demon? The fragments Bootsy offered were like pieces of a shattered mirror, reflecting a reality I could barely grasp. I believed her, though. I had no reason not to. My memories felt like they were being twisted, distorted by Hoseok’s manipulations.

Then I thought of the creature outside of the hospital and felt my knees go numb. I hadn't hallucinated anything. It was real. It was him. Oh my God.

“We can’t talk for long,” she said, a look of pained urgency on her face. “He won’t sleep for much longer.”

“What can I do?” I begged, clutching my head as if I could squeeze out the pain. It was unbearable. “God, it hurts.”

“Nothing,” Bootsy’s voice trembled. “Hoseok wants you, and he’s never lost a game. It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do; he will win. Whatever you’ve been doing has kept you alive this long, but I don’t know how much time you have left.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me and dragging me under. I had been a pawn in Hoseok’s twisted game, my life manipulated by his cruel whims. What did he want from me? My body? My soul? The realization was suffocating.

“Go to Dauphine and find Taehyung,” Bootsy instructed, her voice carrying a chilling finality despite its almost maternal tone. “He had a soft spot for you back then. If you’re lucky, he might be able to change you, make you like us. That might be enough to satisfy Hoseok.”

Taehyung. The name cut through the fog in my mind like a beacon, easing the throbbing in my head, if only for a moment. He had haunted my dreams, his image vivid: a white button-up shirt, his gentle hands, his voice firm yet tender, saying he didn’t want to share me. He had left me in that bar, but the details were fuzzy—how or why I had ended up there was a blur. All I knew was that I was lost, and he had once been my guide.

She paused, her eyes darkening with a weighty empathy. “You’d be luckier if Taehyung agrees to end your life before the demon does. I wouldn’t wish this half-life on anyone, nor would I be glad to see you die, but those are your choices. I can’t guarantee you’ll make it through this.”

“What happened in ’92?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desperation.

Bootsy shook her head, her expression darkening with sorrow. “He killed your friend and tried to lure you away. That's all I know, and I don't have time to explain the rest. The sun’s about to rise, and your demon will be waiting for you to fall asleep. Don’t fight it. Let it happen. If he knows you’re aware of him, he might decide to kill you.”

It felt wrong to just let it happen. What would this mean for me in the end? Would knowing about his influence change anything? I couldn’t be sure, but if I wanted to buy myself time, I had no choice but to take the risk. I needed answers, a plan, anything to regain control.

“Y/N,” Bootsy’s urgent voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Your memories won't come back unless he wants them to. Let it go. Either way you'll be dead.”

With those final, haunting words, Bootsy vanished as quickly as she had appeared. The weight of my predicament pressed heavily on my shoulders, my impending doom looming like a dark cloud. I stumbled back to the porch, unlocked the front door, and sought refuge in the sanctuary of my bed. Bootsy’s grim mantra echoed in my mind as I tried to push aside my troubling thoughts about Hoseok, grappling with the uncertainty that lay ahead.

He appeared to me then, in a vision that was both intoxicating and horrifying. His eyes sparkled with a predatory thrill, his touch setting my skin ablaze, igniting waves of pleasure that crashed over me with ruthless intensity. His worship was ceaseless, his lips warm and insistent, as if trying to devour every shred of my resistance. I was swallowed by him, lost in a whirlwind of passion that twisted the love I once felt (at least, I believed I felt) into something darker, more insidious. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

Bootsy’s words had struck me like a death knell, sealing my fate in an irreversible descent. She had unwittingly set my downfall into motion, transforming innocent affection into a ravenous lust that consumed every corner of my mind. When I awoke late in the evening, the decision to call off work for the rest of the week came with a grim resignation. The struggle to stay awake was in vain; it was becoming starkly clear how deeply Hoseok’s control had embedded itself within me. The inevitable was no longer a distant threat—it had already begun to unfold, dragging me into its dark embrace.

October 31, 1997

I tugged nervously at my skirt, my fingers trembling despite the cool night air that should have been a relief. The address that had arrived this morning was burned into my mind, glaring at me from the top of the paper—Dauphine, the bar Bootsy had mentioned. My plans were clear: find Bootsy, get directions, speak with this Taehyung, and figure out my options. But the gnawing truth was unavoidable—no matter what I did, it felt like my life was already slipping through my fingers.

Sleep deprivation had become my relentless tormentor. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted down by leaden exhaustion, and my attempts to feign illness to dodge work had morphed into a grim reality. It was a battle to stay awake each day, and I feared that simply making it to this bar would be a Herculean task.

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to adjust the wig perched precariously on my head. I’d opted for a lazy Halloween costume—a half-hearted Cher from *Clueless*. The yellow plaid blazer was a thrift store find, the skirt a serendipitous discovery. But the wig made me look more like a grotesque caricature than a character. Frustrated, I yanked it off and tossed it onto the floor. I’d have to go without it.

Yawning, I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse back into bed. My cab was on its way, and I had to be ready. I gathered my essentials—purse, house keys, phone, and a spare outfit—preparing for a night that could very well be my last. I steeled myself for the confrontation, even if it felt like a hopeless, losing battle.

My daily struggle with myself had turned into a monotonous grind. My feigned illness had kept Hoseok at a distance, but it had only given me more time to spiral into despair over his influence. My mind was a battleground, where fragments of my past life clashed with the twisted desires he’d implanted in me. Every morning, I awoke to a gnawing need, a desperate craving for him that left me feeling sullied and repulsed.

I stepped outside and drew a shaky breath of the crisp night air. Calling my brother was both a comfort and a torment. There was a chance this could be the last time I spoke to him, and the thought tightened my chest like a vise. I fought back tears as I dialed his number.

“Hello?” Miles answered, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hey,” I forced a cheerful tone, though it felt hollow. “Still out Trick-or-Treating?”

“We just got back,” he said. “Rory wants to talk to you.”

My heart ached at the sound of my niece’s voice. “Hi, Auntie,” she said, her voice sweet as ever. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” I sniffled, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Aurora’s excitement was a bright spot in my darkness. “I was Katerina, mommy was Miss Elaina, and daddy was Daniel Tiger.”

“That sounds amazing,” I wiped away my tears. “What about your baby brother?”

Aurora’s voice took on a scolding tone. “His name is Corbin, Auntie,” she said as though I should have known better. “He’s still in mommy’s belly, so he wasn’t anything. Mommy’s giving him candy.”

I laughed, though it was tinged with sadness. “How’s your mommy?”

“She says ‘Hi,’” Aurora replied. “We got the best candy! A lady was giving out big Starbursts. Daddy’s letting me have all the pink ones because I’m special.”

“You are special, sweet girl.”

A painful thought intruded—would Hoseok make them forget me if I asked him? The idea was almost too agonizing to bear. He’d kept me alive for five years, a perverse form of flattery that I struggled to appreciate. My self-loathing deepened as I thought about the life I was about to leave behind.

“Daddy says I have to go,” Aurora pouted. “Bye, Auntie.”

“Bye, Rory girl,” I choked out, my voice cracking as the tears welled up. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Aurora’s sweet voice drifted through the line, a beacon of innocence in my storm of dread.

I gasped, the floodgates opening as I fought to keep my composure. “Impossible,” I managed to whisper, my throat tight with sorrow.

“Why?” she giggled, her innocent curiosity slicing through my resolve.

“Because,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I love you more than the world.”

Aurora’s laughter began to fade as she handed the phone back to Miles. The sound of her giggles and her mother’s laughter echoed in the background, a cruel reminder of the life I was about to lose. My heart clenched painfully at the thought of never hearing those sounds again.

“What’s up, sissy?” Miles asked, his tone tinged with concern.

“I was just heading out,” I said, forcing a tremulous cheerfulness into my voice. “Thought I’d call before my cab gets here. I’m leaving a little early.”

There was a heavy pause on the other end, a silence that spoke louder than words.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You sound upset.”

“No, no,” I hurried to reassure him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. “Just tired. You know how it is.”

“You sure?” Miles pressed, his concern palpable. He was always too perceptive for his own good, but he never pushed too hard. I hoped he wouldn’t miss me too much.

“I’m positive, Bubba,” I said, my eyes darting to the cab pulling up to the curb. “My ride’s here. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Call me later?”

“I’ll try to remember in the morning,” I said, attempting to sound upbeat despite the crushing weight in my chest. “I know it’s late for you guys.”

I closed my phone with shaking hands and stuffed it into my purse, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. The cab driver approached, his face a blur through my tears.

“Where to?” he asked, his voice a lifeline in the growing storm of my fear.

“1st and East 54th in the Diamond District,” I replied, offering a weak, strained smile.

“Dauphine?” The driver’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, a hint of something unsettling in his gaze. “Ever been there before?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to steady my breath. “I don’t remember it all that well. Guess I had too much fun last time.”

“Watch yourself,” the driver said, turning on the radio with a slow, deliberate movement. “That place is crawling with freaks.”

“Welcome to New York,” I muttered, more to myself than him.

He chuckled, his voice a touch too jovial. “Been here my whole life. My name’s Jimin. Call me if you need a getaway driver.”

The car rumbled with the low hum of R&B, Jimin fiddling with the radio as if trying to mask the creeping anxiety that gnawed at my insides. I mouthed the lyrics, trying to drown out the terror that threatened to consume me.

My thoughts were a twisted mess of fear and longing. The image of Hoseok, tainted by his manipulation, flickered through my mind. The desire to escape him was overpowered by the suffocating grip of my own confusion. Taehyung was my last, desperate hope—a fleeting chance at redemption. But deep down, a gnawing realization settled in I was already damned, teetering on the edge with no way back.

The mantra echoed relentlessly in my head: I miss him, love him, and need him…

I was spiraling, caught in a web of my own making, and the thought of facing what awaited me at Dauphine was almost too much to bear.

“We’re here,” Jimin's voice cut through the thick fog of dread that enveloped me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I muttered, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the cash. I handed him a generous tip, a feeble attempt to cling to some semblance of normalcy.

The alleyway stretched before me, a grim path between the upscale buildings of the Diamond District. It looked less menacing than I’d imagined, but its familiarity offered no comfort. Dim street lamps cast weak pools of light that barely touched the encroaching darkness. I hoped—prayed—that Hoseok wasn’t already here. The fading daylight gave me just enough visibility to navigate, and the murmur of voices outside the bar was a small, shaky comfort. I clung to the hope that these voices belonged to ordinary people, potential witnesses if I needed to make a quick escape.

As I approached, the group of people outside fell silent. My stomach churned violently, and bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face them; their gaze was almost a physical presence, making my skin crawl even though I never looked directly at them. A low, sinister snicker from one of them sent a shiver down my spine, amplifying my fear. I hadn’t even seen their faces, yet their mere presence was enough to make me quake.

The bouncer at the gate eyed me with a scrutinizing glare.

“Password,” he demanded, his voice flat and unyielding.

“I-” I stammered, my mind racing to recall the password Hoseok had given me. “Audubon.”

The gate creaked open, and I slipped past the security guard, my heart pounding like a drum. Despite my nervous bravado, the bouncer’s indifference did little to soothe me. Once inside, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, escaping the unsettling stares.

I gripped my bag tightly, knuckles white, and started searching for the bar. The interior was starkly underwhelming—plush couches and private booths scattered haphazardly, with red neon signs pointing to the restrooms. The oppressive red and black color scheme was heavy, but thankfully devoid of any overtly horrific scenes. I had no desire for strobe lights or dance floors; the thought of walking into a trap was more than enough to keep me on edge.

Navigating through the dimly lit space, I felt like I was moving through a maze. The long hallway ahead seemed to stretch into an abyss, the darkness intensifying with each step. The oppressive gloom and the eerie silence made my nerves jangle. The jazz music that had been softly playing in the background had faded, leaving me in a disquieting void.

At the end of the hall, the emptiness was almost a relief. The silence was oppressive but meant I wasn’t walking into a room full of hostile eyes. Perhaps this was how I’d met Bootsy—wandering aimlessly until she had found me and guided me out.

The bar seemed to stretch on forever, an architectural labyrinth that added to my growing sense of dread. I held my breath as the walls seemed to close in, my anxiety a tangible weight pressing against my chest. The high ceilings and claustrophobic spaces combined to create a sensation of being trapped. My heels clicked sharply against the linoleum, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. The place felt more like a mausoleum than a bar. Every step heightened my unease, and the hairs on my neck stood on end as I glanced around, trying to ignore the creeping terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling as it cut through the oppressive silence. “Is anybody here?”

The sudden sound of a voice behind me made me jump, my heart racing as I spun around with a gasp that morphed into a shriek. My balance faltered, and I slammed into the wall, scraping my arm against the rough surface. The sharp sting of pain was immediate and searing. I clutched my injured arm, the pain and the shock making my vision blur. I turned to face the figure who had startled me.

He stood there, his white button-down shirt contrasting sharply with the dim surroundings. His tall, lean frame was framed by broad shoulders, and his long fingers seemed to move with an effortless grace. But it was his smile that made my blood run cold—a wide, boxy grin that stretched unnaturally across his face, his eyes glinting with a mischievous, unsettling light.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed tone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I glared at him, struggling to steady my breathing and regain my composure. “It’s fine. It didn’t kill me, did it?”

He chuckled softly; a sound that felt more sinister than soothing. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his gaze dropping to my arm.

I looked down and saw blood seeping through a tear in my blazer. The sight of my own blood was like a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The pain, combined with the sight of my blood, pushed me to the edge. My hands shook as I raised them to my face, tears welling up uncontrollably. The enormity of my situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Everything felt chaotic; my life had been turned upside down, and the relentless pounding in my head was unbearable. I should have stayed home. At least Hoseok’s presence, while twisted, had been a semblance of comfort.

The despair was suffocating.

“Are you okay, sha?” His voice was soft, but his touch on my arm was disconcertingly gentle.

I laughed, a hollow, despairing sound. “Does it look like it?”

“No, you look upset,” he replied, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“You don’t say?” I snapped, rolling my eyes and jerking my arm away from his touch.

Despite my evident distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his smile lingering like a dark shadow. His pleasure at my discomfort was unsettling, and the aura around him felt eerily similar to the disquieting presence of those outside. His attractiveness was overshadowed by a deeply disturbing quality that made me want to flee. It was as if fear had paralyzed me, pinning me in place.

Suddenly, a chilling realization hit me. As I forced myself to examine his face more closely, I recognized him from the shadows of my past. He was strikingly beautiful in a haunting way, like Bootsy. His pale skin was almost luminescent, and his eyes, once hidden in the darkness, now revealed flecks of red that seemed to glow with a menacing, otherworldly light. They were mesmerizing yet horrifying, a dangerous allure that made my skin crawl. The spell he cast was broken as quickly as it had begun, and I struggled to look him in the eye again.

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?” His voice was a silky whisper that seemed to wrap around me, tightening with a sinister intent.

Embarrassed by my earlier outburst, I nodded slowly. My hope of finding help felt increasingly elusive as the night grew darker and more menacing. All I wanted was to escape, but the hope that things might improve clung stubbornly to me. Taehyung exuded a disorienting blend of warmth and menace, a mix of comfort and dread that left me feeling more lost than ever.

“I’m sorry for being snappy,” I said, my voice quivering as I wiped away a tear. “I don’t remember you all that well.” 

Or at all, my mind whispered in the encroaching darkness. The more I looked at him, the more I felt Hoseok’s oppressive influence tugging at my thoughts. Images of Hoseok’s touch, his voice, his eyes—each one flared in my mind with an insidious intensity. He misses you; he loves you, he needs you…

“Requiem was wrong,” Taehyung murmured, his fingers chillingly cold as they cradled my face. “You’re too far gone.”

“Who?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling and my head spinning. His touch was both numbing and intoxicating.

“Bootsy,” he cooed, his breath a mix of cotton and sweet pine needles. “She said you had a chance, but she was mistaken. My friend has already completed the bond.”

“W-what?” I whispered, dazed and confused. The throbbing ache in my head resonated with Taehyung’s presence. “What bond?”

“Maybe not,” he whispered, his proximity making my pulse race.

When his lips met mine, they were like ice, yet the jolt of electricity that surged through me made my knees buckle. His laughter was dark and twisted as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his tongue brushing against my lips. I mewled, clutching his shoulders as the electric sensation overwhelmed me. His groan sent shivers through my entire body, and the echo of Hoseok’s voice in my head was relentless. He misses you, he loves you, he needs you…

Suddenly, I shoved Taehyung away, gasping for air as a searing pain exploded in my head. It felt as if a sledgehammer had struck my temple. My vision swam, and I collapsed to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed uncontrollably.

“Poor child,” Taehyung crooned, kneeling beside me. His scent, soothing yet oddly comforting, did little to ease the tremors wracking my body. “I’m so sorry, but I cannot help you.”

“I’m going to die,” I sobbed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “The pain will lessen once you accept it; accept him.”

“What does he want?” I managed to choke out.

“Can’t you see?” Taehyung’s eyes glittered ominously in the dim light. “He believes he’s in love with you. It’s a pity, really. I want nothing more than to keep you, but I can’t risk angering him. He would destroy Requiem for revealing his secrets; she is my most cherished friend. Do you understand?”

Numbly, I nodded. I’m going to die. I miss him. I’m going to die. He loves you. I’m going to die. I need him. I’m going to die. I love him. He needs you. I’m—

“Your eyes look just like his,” Taehyung marveled, his gaze softening. “He’s bound to you in a way I’ve never seen before.”

As I stared at Taehyung, my vision began to blur, and the voices in my head whispered louder in the dark corners of my mind. Their weight pressed down on me, my eyes rolling back until all I could see was a void. When I came to, I was horrified to find vomit splattered across Taehyung’s pristine white shirt. His expression twisted in horror and pain as he watched me unravel.

A dark, malevolent presence loomed near, its acrid stench of soot and kerosene overwhelming my senses. My head throbbed as if it had been cleaved in two, and a grotesque, pecking sensation gnawed at my exposed, vulnerable insides. Taehyung’s icy touch against my rigid form offered little comfort as I lay helpless against his chest, terror seeping in with every passing second.

“There’s my girl!” Hoseok’s voice cut through the haze of despair, and just like that, the pain evaporated.

I exhaled, sinking into Taehyung’s embrace. His body felt like ice against my fevered skin, a chilling contrast that brought an unexpected relief. His cool fingers traced my scalp, their touch a soothing balm amidst the chaos.

“I hope you understand Bootsy’s decision,” Taehyung’s voice was as cold as his touch, carrying a weight of finality. “She thought you were still playing games. But she was wrong.”

A deep, resonant rumble filled the space, and Hoseok’s voice emerged from the darkness like a spectral echo.

“Requiem has every right to her judgment,” Hoseok said, his voice a smooth caress laced with menace. “If it were anyone else, I might not care. But Y/N’s suffering is a consequence of her meddling. I had hoped to keep her alive.”

“Why?” I croaked, the question barely escaping my lips.

“You’re my special girl,” Hoseok purred, his voice dripping with a twisted, cruel fondness. “So innocent, so malleable. You’re perfect.”

A strange calm enveloped me as I lay against Taehyung, the tumult of emotions and pain fading to a low murmur. Hoseok’s presence hung over me like a dark, oppressive cloud, his words a cruel mockery of the comfort I desperately sought.

Taehyung’s fingers moved through my hair with a cold, almost clinical precision. “You’ve been chosen,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. “It’s a rare bond that neither Bootsy nor I can undo. I wish there was something more I could do for you.”

My vision blurred, shadows of past anguish swirling around me. Hoseok’s voice echoed in my mind, a haunting lullaby that twisted my insides. “You’re mine, Y/N. No matter how you struggle, you are woven into my essence.”

The room seemed to constrict, the walls inching inward, shadows elongating and darkening. A biting chill settled over the space, the whispers of the damned intertwining with my deepest fears. I could almost see their forms, spectral and menacing, reaching out from the darkness.

I struggled to my feet, the world spinning dizzily around me. My head throbbed with a relentless ache, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. I stumbled away from Taehyung’s unnervingly composed presence, my eyes darting frantically for any sign of escape or salvation.

“Y/N,” Hoseok’s voice was a dissonant blend of soothing and threatening. “Don’t run from me. You belong here, with me.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, the overwhelming urge to flee battling with a stubborn thread of hope tangled in my despair. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, clinging to the faintest possibility of survival amidst the encroaching darkness.

I turned to Taehyung, my gaze pleading, desperate. “Is there no way out? Is there any hope left?”

Taehyung’s expression softened with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Try to enjoy your final moments.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the corridor, each step deliberate and foreboding. My heart leaped as a figure emerged from the gloom. Bootsy. Her presence was both a flicker of reassurance and a shadow of dread.

“I’m sorry,” Bootsy’s voice was a murmur of regret in the darkness.

I looked at her, then back at Taehyung, and finally at the encroaching shadows that seemed to reach out with a ravenous hunger. The weight of the choice, of my impending doom, pressed heavily on my chest, threatening to crush me under its gravity.

With a shuddering breath, I steeled myself. “I can’t let this happen to me,” I said, my voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t want this.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the darkness thickening. Hoseok’s laughter echoed through the void, a low, mocking sound that sent icy shivers down my spine. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be writhing on the floor if you didn’t.”

The shadows deepened, the walls closing in as if reality itself was warping to ensnare me. A cold grip tightened around my soul, a force dragging me back into the abyss I had fought so hard to escape. An aching chill settled below my diaphragm, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My head spun again, his voice a soft whisper in the recesses of my mind. I miss you. I love you. I need you…

Don’t leave me.

Taehyung’s expression hardened into one of grim resignation. “You’re already bound to him. The bond is too strong.”

As I fought against the invisible chains tightening around me, the futility of my struggle became all too apparent. The darkness swallowed me whole, dragging me back into the depths I had desperately tried to escape.

“Please,” I whispered into the void, but the darkness consumed my plea. “Please, no.”

Hoseok’s voice filled the void, smooth and victorious. “Welcome home, darling.”

The last glimmers of light vanished, leaving me in an eternal night, a prisoner of my own choices and the dark forces that had ensnared me. My mind fractured under the weight of the consuming darkness, and as the final remnants of my resistance crumbled, I faced the harrowing truth.

There was no salvation. No escape. Only the endless, consuming dark.

And in that darkness, I was utterly, irrevocably alone.

I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in this suffocating darkness—hours, days, months, or maybe even years. Time has become an abstract concept here, slipping through my grasp like the thin veil of reality that separates me from the void. The only link to the world beyond this prison is Hoseok, a ghostly presence who appears with a gleam in his eyes that chills me to the bone. His voice, carrying the weight of a thousand tortured souls, always asks the same haunting question: How are you feeling?

We were never friends. Each passing day has sharpened my memories into a cruel clarity. I don’t know where my physical body is—doubtful it’s anywhere near this place. The ink and paper I use to write materialize out of nowhere whenever I need them, appearing and disappearing like phantoms in my disturbed mind. This place defies all logic and reason.

Initially, I fought Hoseok with every ounce of my being. Each refusal brought excruciating pain that felt like it would tear me apart. My screams echoed back at me from the oppressive void, unanswered and ignored. Hoseok would slip into the darkness with a silent, predatory grace, his hot hands roaming over my shivering body before I even knew he was there. I would scramble away, howling and begging him to take me home, but he always left without a word.

Eventually, I gave up the fight. I accepted that escape was impossible, even though my soul still ached for my old life. The pain eased only when I surrendered, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent. They were filled with idle chatter about his plans for me. I learned he was a demon, and I was destined to become one too. The possession would erase most of who I once was, but when I awoke, we would be forever linked as master and shade. My freedom would only come after I took my first human life, but that day seemed impossibly distant. Hoseok savored every bite of my soul with a mournful delight.

What I felt for Hoseok wasn’t love—it was an obsession, a malignant force that had seeped into every corner of my being. “A natural reaction of a shade to its master,” he said. I was bound to him, and escape was nothing but a cruel illusion.

The first signs of my unraveling appeared when Hoseok vanished for days on end. In the infinite darkness, where time had no meaning, his absence was a torment of its own. Despite his power to bend reality, he chose to leave me here, dependent on his presence for any sign of change. I began talking to myself, my voice the only sound in the oppressive silence. I spoke for hours, my throat raw and hoarse from the effort, desperately trying to fend off the encroaching madness.

I felt like an addict in withdrawal. I don’t recall when hallucinations began, but soon I was conversing with a phantom chorus of voices. Deep down, I knew it was Hoseok orchestrating these illusions, but my fractured mind twisted reality into something I could barely comprehend. My hatred for him only served to cloud my already distorted perception.

As time dragged on, I grew weary. My speech turned into riddles, convinced I was a prophet receiving divine revelations. Raised Catholic, I had long drifted from faith, but the darkness reignited an obsession with God. I clung desperately to fragmented Bible verses. Hoseok, ever the manipulator, provided me with a Bible. If I weren’t so far gone, I might have questioned his uncanny ability to fulfill my twisted needs.

When I told Hoseok about my religious background, he laughed, and the darkness morphed into a cathedral. For the first time, there was something tangible to focus on during his absences. It was both a prison and a gift. The pews were filled with spectral congregants, and every day became Sunday. I feverishly wrote sermons, warning of the apocalypse. Hoseok attended with a devotion bordering on reverence, but he always left too soon.

The withdrawal pangs paralyzed me, but incessant talking kept the crushing loneliness at bay. I remember the first encounter after becoming accustomed to this madness. My body trembled with need, yet my mind remained alert. Each denial of release brought physical agony, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent and prolonged. My breakdown was inevitable.

On the day of my final descent, I felt his presence before I saw him. My struggle had reached its nadir. Despite my lingering hope for escape, Hoseok’s presence shattered my resolve. I became an all-too-willing participant in his dark designs. Even now, as I lie prostrate in my despair, I can’t escape the haunting reality of my existence.

The words of the prayer rolled off my tongue like a ghostly murmur in the dim, solemn church. Each syllable was a desperate plea, a sacrament of my crumbling faith:

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.”

“Body of Christ, save me.”

“Blood of Christ, inebriate me.”

This prayer was a twisted sacrament, a litany of sacred pleas that felt increasingly like cries into the void.

“Water from Christ’s side, wash me.”

“Passion of Christ, strengthen me.”

“O good Jesus, hear me.”

I bowed my head, eyes squeezed shut like a child hiding from monsters under the bed. My hands gripped tightly in a futile attempt to hold onto my sanity. I prayed not just for absolution but for a distraction, for him to stay away, for the sinful thoughts to dissipate like smoke in the sun.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, spectral and insistent, urging me to rise, to accept, to finally bend to its will.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the pulpit, my legs trembling. I focused on the Gospel before me, the rhythm of my breath, the rehearsed words of today’s homily. I could hear murmurs of anticipation swelling in the pews, bouncing off the stone walls like echoes of forgotten promises.

Did they know? Did they sense the darkness creeping into my soul?

To be honest, I was unsure if anyone was really there or if my mind was playing tricks on me. This place had a maddening ability to distort my perception. I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, offering a fleeting smile to the choir’s children—figments of my fractured mind. Their eyes, hungry for guidance, believed in my wisdom, though I felt utterly unworthy. Their gaze was a reflection of my own inner torment.

My eyes locked on a figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat, as I beheld him. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—an irreverent defiance slicing through the sanctity of the church. His gaze was a burning, unholy fire that cut through the darkness with unnerving clarity.

In that moment, the last vestiges of my sanity crumbled, leaving me exposed to the consuming darkness that had become my prison.

I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, and offered a fleeting smile to the choir’s children, who I no longer believed were real. My gaze wandered over the congregation, each face a testament to a faith I felt unworthy of. Their eyes, brimming with expectation, seemed to pierce through me, demanding guidance I could no longer provide. I questioned my own sanity, wondering if anyone in that room could see how profoundly empty I felt.

I once had everything figured out. Before this… before him.

My eyes locked on a single figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. There he was: jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—a casual defiance that sliced through the church’s sanctity like a blade. His legs were crossed, hands poised by his sides, eyes ablaze with a fire that seemed to burn straight through my composure.

No holy book in his hands, no righteous smile on his lips—just an unspoken, rebellious challenge. His presence was a magnetism that pulled me toward a pit of temptation and sin. I forgot my sermon. I forgot the vows and promises etched into my soul. The solemn pledges made to men of faith and to God. Promises I had written daily to stave off the creeping insanity.

Those promises now felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by him. His eyes, his lips, his rebellious aura—an inferno of forbidden heat that ignited a longing I could no longer contain. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to escape the searing image of him. Abs, legs, an all-consuming heat that seemed to draw me into its vortex.

When I opened my eyes again, the fire remained. A cough from the crowd jolted me back to the present. I tugged at my collar, the symbol of my childhood and a cruel gift from Hoseok. It used to offer comfort, a sign of belonging, but now it felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

The faces of the congregation were a sea of silent, unspoken questions. Their eyes bored into me, filled with unvoiced suspicions and judgments.

Shit.

My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the pulpit, trying to anchor myself amidst the spiraling chaos. The eyes of the congregation felt like spectral judgments, each one a reminder of my spiraling failure. Hoseok’s presence, fixed in my peripheral vision, was a constant, unsettling pull—a dark promise of chaos just beyond the edge of reason. It pressed heavily on my chest, a suffocating weight threatening to collapse my fragile sanity.

I forced my gaze back to the Gospel, attempting to focus on the familiar lines of scripture, hoping they would restore my fractured resolve. But the words on the page blurred and twisted, tangled in the storm raging inside my head. Each verse felt like wading through molasses, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple, mingling with the cold sweat already gathering at the base of my neck. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control, but the sound emerged as a strangled rasp.

The whispers grew louder, like rustling wings pressing against the walls of my sanity. My heart pounded like a funeral drum, each beat a reminder of my mounting desperation. I could almost hear the devil’s laughter, mocking my feeble attempts to maintain a façade of righteousness.

Hoseok’s gaze was unwavering, a predator’s gaze that seemed to sear through my composure. His movements were fluid, deliberate—like a hunter preparing to strike. My mind raced, desperately searching for an escape from this hellish vortex. I glanced at the crucifix behind me, its hollow eyes and outstretched arms now a pitifully inadequate shield against the encroaching darkness. The sacred symbol that once offered solace now seemed like a cruel joke, highlighting how far I had strayed from purity.

The murmurs of the congregation grew insistent, a chorus of impatient whispers that echoed like an unholy chant. The church, once a sanctuary, now closed in around me, its weight suffocating. I took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of my willpower. I forced myself to meet Hoseok’s gaze again, confronting the fiery rebellion in his eyes. He offered no sympathy, only a silent taunt that echoed my own guilt.

With a trembling hand, I reached for the microphone. My voice cracked as I began to speak, the words spilling out in a disjointed stream. I struggled to reclaim my authority, but with each passing moment, my grip on sanity slipped further. The congregation’s expressions shifted from curiosity to concern, then to alarm. Their faith faltered under the weight of my unraveling composure.

Hoseok’s gaze remained fixed, a dark star in a sea of light, drawing me inexorably towards his gravitational pull. My voice faltered, becoming increasingly erratic, reflecting the chaos within. The church fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rustling of the congregation’s uneasy shifting. I felt every eye on me, their silent judgment a palpable force.

My final words came out as a barely coherent murmur, a defeated whisper lost in the oppressive silence. I stumbled away from the pulpit, my mind a tempest of confusion and dread. As I retreated from the glaring scrutiny of the congregation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was stumbling towards some dark, inevitable reckoning. Hoseok’s gaze followed me, a constant, unsettling presence as I fled the sanctuary.

I collapsed into the shadows behind the altar, my breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed through the oppressive silence of the church. The darkness around me felt like a living entity, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, threatening to suffocate me. Hoseok's eyes lingered in my mind, their haunting intensity a constant reminder of the sin and torment that had become my existence. The certainty of my spiraling downfall felt inescapable, and every breath I took seemed to deepen my dread.

The pews had emptied in an instant, leaving the room cloaked in a suffocating silence. My heart pounded as I watched Hoseok move toward me. The man before me was no longer the mortal guise he had once worn; his true form emerged, dark and unnervingly compelling. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a shadowed hunger that quickened my pulse with a mix of terror and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Y/N.” His voice, soft and reverent, seemed to carry a sacramental weight that sent an icy shiver down my spine. There was a truth hidden in those syllables, a meaning only he understood. As his nearness intensified, confusion and fear danced across my features. His calm, deliberate hand cradled my cheek, the touch both tender and overwhelming. The heat of my skin seemed to beckon to him, an invitation that terrified and enthralled me simultaneously.

"You're so lovely," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that barely masked the wild intensity in his eyes. His touch guided me backward with a grace that felt almost otherworldly. The church seemed to dissolve around us, melting away into a space that was unsettlingly familiar—a fragment of my life from New York. The red brick of the two-story house brought a strange, bittersweet comfort, like a fragment of a life I had once known. It calmed my racing heart with its eerie familiarity. He led me to the front door, his touch both comforting and possessive.

The lock yielded effortlessly, and as we crossed the threshold, the gravity of the situation settled like a stone in my stomach. The house, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in with a menacing intimacy. 

"So perfectly lovely," he murmured again as he closed the door behind us. I stumbled back, my nerves crackling with an unsettling energy. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was something darker and more confusing. A part of me ached for normalcy, for escape, while another part was drawn to him with a desperate, confusing need. The line between terror and an inexplicable, forbidden desire blurred beyond recognition. I clung to the last shreds of my sanity, even as I felt myself unraveling under the weight of my own conflicted emotions.

"Why are we here?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of breathlessness and an unspoken longing. My heart pounded with a confusing blend of fear and desire. It was as if clarity had returned to me for a fleeting moment, yet I was still tethered to the confusion Hoseok had woven into my days. His promises of relief had begun to erode the pain, even as they wrapped around me like a vice. I remembered the dreams he'd planted in my mind, their seductive whispers blurring my sense of reality.

"I thought you might feel more at ease here," he said softly, his tone smooth and soothing as he followed me through the cluttered living room. Each backward step I took seemed to draw him closer, his presence an inescapable shadow. "Do you like it?"

I hesitated, glancing around at the artifacts of my past—family photos, treasured mementos, relics of a life that now felt so distant. The room was a museum of a future slipping away from me, and Hoseok's eyes seemed intent on taking it all. "Yes, I do," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. The room, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a stage for his dark play.

"I'd like a drink," I said, placing a hand over my racing heart. I clung to the pretense of normalcy, desperate to maintain some semblance of control. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a flicker of my old self. "Is there anything here? Surely you would... like one... as well."

Hoseok, having long since discarded any pretense of humanity, closed the distance between us with unsettling swiftness. His movements were almost too fluid, his presence too intense. His hands, warm and steady, framed my face with a possessive grace, his gaze fixed on the pulse in my neck, the rich, inviting blood beneath my skin.

"Oh, Y/N, my sweet, innocent little lamb." His voice, a velvety murmur, sent a shiver down my spine. His touch, trailing down to my neck, felt both magnetic and maddening. His eyes lingered on my flesh with a hunger that was almost palpable, a craving that seemed to consume him as much as it did me.

I trembled in his embrace, my conflicting desires mirrored in his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, my breath warm and trembling with a heady mix of fear and desire. His smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes as he encircled my waist, his touch moving possessively lower, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. The tension between fight and flight heightened the charged atmosphere, leaving me both desperate and disoriented.

His eyes traced the flush of my lips, a reflection of the flush between my legs. The scent of my arousal mingled with my anxious heartbeat, a call to the beast inside him. His senses seemed overwhelmed by the promise of my warmth, the floral sweetness of my skin, and the earthy musk of my desire.

"You don't want... a drink?" I stammered, struggling to grasp the situation, to find a shred of reason amid the chaos of my emotions.

"Oh yes, Y/N. I very much desire a... drink." His smile was amused, his lips hovering just above mine. The taste of his breath, mingling with his tantalizing scent, sparked a deep, primal hunger within me. I was alive with all these unfulfilled needs, caught between an overwhelming desire and a paralyzing fear.

I inhaled shakily, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. "What... would you like?" The question was a desperate plea for clarity, a tenuous grasp at the last vestiges of control in a world that had become a tumultuous blur of lust and dread.

A low laugh rumbled in Hoseok’s throat as he brushed his lips over mine, savoring the teasing trace of my flavor. "I want you, Y/N. I want to drink you." His honesty was laced with a raw, consuming need, a plea that mirrored the chaotic mix of longing and fear surging through me. It was clear he had no intention of letting me escape—not now. His tongue traced the corners of my mouth, and his body pressed against mine, making his heat seep through every layer of fabric that separated us.

I trembled, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The scents of my home—the cheap cotton sheets, synthetic pillows, and lingering traces of my perfume—led him with a haunting familiarity. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me with a purposeful stride, and placed me gently at the foot of my bed. The moonlight offered only a weak shield against the encroaching darkness that seemed to swallow us whole.

My heart raced, feeling like a delicate butterfly trapped in a predatory web. As he dropped his coat to the floor and drew me into a deep kiss, my earlier uncertainty dissolved into a raw, electric need. Each touch of his fingers against my body made me shiver, a mix of anticipation and dread coiling tightly within me.

The bed was unmade, its disarray a silent testament to my disordered state. His scent lingered in the tangled sheets and blankets as he lowered me onto them. My sweat-dampened palms gripped his hair, my fingers exploring the nape of his neck and shoulders. The buttons on his shirt came undone beneath my trembling hands, my desire growing bolder despite the icy grip of fear that clenched at my chest. His groan as his teeth grazed my throat made me arch my hips, pressing closer, driven by a need I couldn't fully understand.

My clothes fell away under his hands, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. His eyes devoured every curve of my body, his gaze as palpable as his touch. His mouth descended on mine, hungry and insatiable, and I was enveloped by him, lost in a swirling tempest of our shared desire. His touch became a language, one that read my body with an intimate knowledge I was helpless to resist.

As he explored my secret places, my soft sighs turned into desperate pleas. His searing touch brought goosebumps to my skin, but I pressed closer, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving me. I was caught between wanting more and the creeping dread of losing myself entirely.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice a dark promise. "I want to consume you." His words were a growl, a warning wrapped in seductive desire.

"Yes, I want you to. Do it. Take me," I panted, clutching at his shirt sleeve. My body spoke louder than words, arching upwards in desperate need. I knew I didn't fully understand what I was asking for, but the awareness was drowned out by the intensity of my longing.

His hands covered my breasts, his fingers finding my nipples. I gasped, pushing closer as his mouth found each tip, his low growl sending shivers through me. My heart raced beneath his lips, the rush of blood whispering of more delights to come. I arched again, my body twisting off the bed, craving more.

His mouth sucked at my nipple, his tongue flicking to heighten my pleasure. His thigh pressed between mine, the fabric of his jeans rasping over my nakedness, igniting a desperate heat. I moaned and bucked against him, my fingers digging into his arms as I convulsed beneath him, reaching the peak of my desire. The exhilaration of the moment was punctuated by the fear that clawed at the edges of my consciousness, a persistent reminder that I was teetering on the brink of something both irresistible and terrifying.

The climax left me gasping, trembling, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and overwhelming need. Each wave of pleasure only heightened my fear, and my body’s reaction seemed to betray my mind's desperate protests. His touch, relentless and insistent, found a rhythm that both seduced and terrified me. I cried out, unable to stop the sounds that escaped my lips, but a part of me wanted to resist.

I tried to pull away, my hand grasping his wrist with a frantic intensity. "What... what are you doing to me…?" My voice was a ragged whisper, trembling with a blend of confusion and fear.

He looked at me with a dark, hungry smile, his eyes alight with a dangerous fire. "Y/N, don’t lie to yourself," he said softly, his fingers curling in ways that made my body shudder. "You’re not overwhelmed. Your body is telling me you want this. You’re close to coming again. I can feel it."

My protests dissolved into incoherent moans as his touch stimulated a spot deep within me. The pleasure was a cruel paradox, blurring the line between ecstasy and dread. I could barely think, my mind clouded by the intensity of his actions.

"No, Hoseok, it’s too much," I whimpered, struggling to catch my breath. "I can’t..."

His mouth moved to mine, his lips teasing, his breath warm against my skin. "You’re a beautiful little liar," he murmured. "It’s not too much. You crave this. You know you do. Beg for it."

The force of his command broke through my haze of desire. "Please, Hoseok...," I gasped, my will crumbling under his dominance. My words felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop myself from begging. "Please, just... take me."

His satisfaction was palpable, a dangerous hunger in his eyes. His touch grew more urgent, driving me to the brink of madness. I was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body’s response only seemed to draw him closer.

The moment of his thrust was jarring, a mix of pain and pleasure that overwhelmed me. My body reacted instinctively, my hips rising to meet him even as my mind struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. The intense pleasure was intermingled with a profound fear, a dread of losing myself completely.

His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as though he were chasing an elusive climax. I was limp in his arms, my breathing ragged, torn between an unbearable desire and an escalating terror.

Despite my growing fear, I clung to him, my hands fumbling for some semblance of control. My kisses were desperate, seeking to anchor myself amidst the chaos. His touch was relentless, and every stroke seemed to heighten the conflict within me.

He pressed closer, his hands exploring with a possessive intensity. My body’s reactions were at odds with my thoughts, creating a tumultuous storm of sensation and fear. My mind raced, grappling with the realization of what was happening, but the pleasure was so consuming that it blurred the line between consent and coercion.

As the moment approached, I felt his breath on my neck, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his seductive veneer. The final act was a blur, my fear mingling with an overwhelming rush of sensation.

I was a walking paradox—caught between heaven and hell, life and death, sin and redemption. His presence was a fiery furnace, consuming me with the heat of stolen life he had been deprived of for so long. My body clenched around him, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to drive him to the edge of his sanity. His pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that painted the world in a chaotic blaze of colors.

“Hoseok, please…” I whispered, my voice a fragile breath against the overpowering cacophony of sensations. I wasn’t sure if my plea was for him to stop or to continue, a desperate cry from a place deep within me that I couldn’t fully comprehend. My fear was a gnawing presence, clawing at the edges of my desire, but the confusion of what I wanted and what I was willing to accept blurred together.

His eyes were dark with a twisted satisfaction as he sensed the last of my climax and my blood draining from me. The thought of taking me to the brink of death both exhilarated and haunted him. His grip tightened, and with a guttural snarl, he pulled away from my neck, his fangs retracting with a mixture of frustration and reluctant restraint. The rush of his thirst roared inside him, but he forced himself to temper his need.

I was an indulgence he wouldn’t be denied again, a forbidden pleasure he was determined to claim. He gently laid me back on the disheveled sheets, my heartbeat weak and fluttering. He licked the last drops of blood from my skin, his breath ragged and uneven. Each touch was deliberate, sealing the wounds with a final, lingering caress—a practical necessity for a demon who wanted to savor every part of me.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice a low, dark promise that vibrated through my core. “You are mine, Y/N. From now until death claims you, until I claim you.” His breath was warm and heavy against my face. My eyelids fluttered, barely able to focus, but his words penetrated my haze. “If any other man dares to touch you, I will tear him apart. Remember this, my beautiful little lamb. Remember who you belong to.”

“Hoseok,” I murmured, my voice a faint echo of surrender. His satisfaction was palpable, a twisted delight in my obedience and submission. He rose and slipped out of the room, leaving me tangled in sheets and blankets. From across the street, hidden in the shadows, he watched and listened, his gaze a persistent weight on my fragile state.

As dawn’s first light crept through the blinds, it painted the room in a sickly, eerie glow. I lay amidst the tangled sheets, each twist revealing new bruises and bite marks—a grotesque map of the night’s events etched into my skin. The aftermath was a haunting blend of pleasure and torment, an unsettling reminder of what had transpired.

Hoseok’s presence lingered in the room like a shadow that refused to lift. The darkness he brought with him clung to the corners, an inescapable reminder of the nightmare I had just lived through. My mind, once a storm of fear and confusion, now spun in a twisted acceptance—a deranged serenity that felt as liberating as it was unsettling.

The door creaked open like the groan of an old house settling into its own despair. Hoseok reappeared, his eyes still gleaming with that predatory glow, but now softened by an unsettling tenderness. He moved towards me with a deliberate grace, each step imbued with a dark reverence that made my heart pound with a blend of fear and reluctant desire.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that slithered across the room. “Do you understand now? You are mine, every inch of you.”

I looked up at him, my smile a grotesque reflection of the twisted contentment that had taken root in me. It was not a smile of joy or freedom but a shadowy acknowledgment of a reality I could no longer escape. My old life had withered into obscurity, replaced by the suffocating reality Hoseok had imposed upon me.

“Yes,” I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips. “I belong to you.”

The truth of my submission felt like a heavy, warm blanket, pressing down on me with an oppressive weight. Despite the enormity of what I had given up—my freedom, my chance to reclaim any semblance of my old life—there was an undeniable satisfaction in surrendering wholly to him. The pain and loss had twisted into a perverse form of fulfillment, filling the void in my chest with a dark semblance of love.

Hoseok’s smile widened, a dark curve that spoke of unyielding possession. He reached out, his hand caressing my cheek with a gentleness that clashed violently with the ferocity of his claim. The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with a palpable tension, as if the very walls bore witness to my surrender.

“You will never leave me,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine with an unbreakable determination. “You are mine, forever.”

I nodded, the movement small and almost imperceptible, but it was enough. It was a surrender, a relinquishment of my will to the dark force that was Hoseok. He pulled me into his arms, and I felt my resolve melt away, my body becoming a canvas for his power, intermingling with the strange warmth of our shared connection.

As his darkness enveloped me, I felt a disturbing sense of belonging. In the shadows of the night, under his control, my fears and desires tangled together, creating a new reality that was both terrifying and intoxicating. In that moment, I understood there was no turning back. I was his, bound in body and soul by the twisted threads of fate and desire.

Hoseok’s eyes softened as he pulled me close, his cold skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of my own body. His embrace was a strange sanctuary, a place where I felt both ensnared and cherished. My mind, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, had slipped into a state of blissful madness. In Hoseok’s dark embrace, I discovered a twisted joy that defied all rational thought.

“I’ve given you everything,” he murmured, his breath cold against my ear. “We are bound now, Y/N. Forever.”

His words were a chilling promise that resonated through the marrow of my bones, a haunting echo that left me trembling uncontrollably. I clung to him, my grip a mix of desperate need and profound terror, as a disturbing form of happiness took root in the darkest corners of my mind. The loss of my old life, the sacrifice of everything I had once held dear, seemed like a fevered dream compared to the unsettling contentment I felt in his arms.

As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted and writhed, I looked at Hoseok with a gaze that was both adoring and disturbingly fractured. The vibrant world I had once known had dissolved into a distant memory, replaced by a nightmarish existence defined by the twisted love and passion we shared. My heart swelled with a love so profound it overshadowed any lingering regret, even as my mind spiraled further into chaos.

Hoseok’s final words were a chilling promise wrapped in disturbing tenderness. “Remember, Y/N,” he whispered softly, his voice a ghostly caress in the dim light. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.”

As the door creaked shut behind him, the morning light seeping in like a reluctant witness, I was left enveloped in the oppressive embrace of the darkness we had forged together. My smile, twisted and unnatural, reflected the bizarre, unsettling happiness I had found in the abyss. I was forever bound to the night, my soul tangled in the shadows of Hoseok’s dark desires.

The room seemed to breathe with the remnants of his presence, each corner cloaked in an oppressive stillness that mirrored the void he had filled within me. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of fragmented thoughts that raged in my mind. Now, there was only the echo of his words, the haunting promise of a future forever intertwined with his darkness.

I lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of our twisted union, my body marked by the evidence of his possession. Each bruise, each bite mark was a grotesque map of the new life I had been forced into. The pain was now a distant echo, overshadowed by the profound and disturbing contentment that gnawed at my chest—a contentment born of both surrender and madness.

As the minutes ticked by and the morning light grew stronger, I found myself replaying his final words in my mind, my thoughts fracturing with each repetition. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.” The truth of those words reverberated through me like a haunting mantra, a binding contract signed with my very essence, even as my grip on reality slipped further away.

There was no turning back, no reclaiming the life I had once known. I was irrevocably his, a willing participant in the dark dance we had begun. The thought brought a grotesque smile to my lips, a smile that spoke of a happiness found in the shadows, a contentment born of surrender and madness.

At least, I wanted to believe it was madness alone that made me forget how afraid I was.

October 31, 2024

The house had become an enigmatic beast, its former guise of normalcy utterly transformed. From the street, it looked like any other home—silent and shadowy against the midnight sky. But within its walls, it was something else entirely. The shutters were clamped shut, keeping out any unwelcome glimmers of daylight. The curtains, heavy with dust, obscured the outside world, making everything inside a surreal, dreamlike blur.

Within this labyrinth of darkness, the house seemed like a twisted echo of a familiar nightmare. The air was thick with the mingling scents of old incense and stale dreams, creating a heavy, almost intoxicating atmosphere. Flickering candlelight cast eerie, jittery shadows that danced and twisted, as if mocking my attempts at normalcy. Silence pressed down on me, almost alive in its oppressive weight.

Days blurred into one another, each indistinguishable from the next in a fog of disorientation. Hoseok’s routines had become my own, though I couldn’t quite remember how or when they had taken over. My existence revolved around small tasks—cooking, cleaning, and performing acts of devotion—that had evolved into a kind of ritualistic pattern. It was as though each action was a silent offering to the enigmatic darkness that had enveloped our lives.

When I glanced in the mirror, the person staring back was a ghostly apparition of my former self. My face, serene to the point of being unsettling, bore a look of eerie contentment. I was a wraith, drifting through my days with a confusing mix of dread and satisfaction.

As night fell, the house came alive with an almost palpable energy. Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming, filling the space with his dark, commanding aura. His arrival was always marked by the ritualistic locking of doors, a subtle reminder of his control. The sensations of pleasure and pain that accompanied his touch had become a surreal symphony, a haunting reminder of the path I had chosen.

One particularly cold night, as the moonlight filtered through the grime-covered windows, Hoseok and I stood together, looking out into the void. The world outside was a distant blur, an irrelevant expanse that felt disconnected from my reality. The sky stretched above us, a vast, unyielding black, reflecting the emptiness of my existence. We were bound together by something primal and deep, though its true nature remained elusive.

Time inside these walls seemed to warp and distort. The house, once a symbol of normalcy, had turned into a crypt of our peculiar existence. The outside world had faded into obscurity, replaced by the certainty of Hoseok’s presence. I had found a strange form of happiness in this eternal night, where the terror of the outside world had been replaced by the dark, enveloping comfort of Hoseok’s embrace.

As I settled into my favorite worn leather chair, the house seemed to pulse with anticipation for Hoseok’s return. My knitting supplies were spread around me, with a scarf for Hoseok in progress. I hummed softly, my heart beating with a sense of calm and eager expectancy, as if I were awaiting a beloved dream to resume.

I replayed our last conversation in my mind, Hoseok’s words lingering like a haunting melody. “An old friend is coming for a visit,” he’d said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “She’s good at dealing with werewolves.”

I couldn’t suppress a bubbling laugh, the sound rising unbidden. “Isn’t she the one Namjoon’s obsessed with?”

His kiss on my temple had been darkly tender, sending shivers of pleasure through me. “Clever girl. It will be fun.”

I teased him playfully. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

His laughter resonated through me, sending a thrill down my spine. “When have I ever been nice, lamb?”

“Nice to me,” I’d replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Very, very nice.”

Settling back into the leather chair, the hearth’s flickering light casting long, shifting shadows, I resumed my knitting with a serene focus. Each stitch felt like a small act of devotion, a testament to my growing obsession. I hummed softly, my heart a silent witness to the peace I had found in this twisted, eternal night. The lines between fear and love, sanity and madness, had merged into a strange, intoxicating tapestry that I no longer fully understood.

Hoseok said I was perfect. His praise was a balm to my disoriented soul.

I smiled, pushing away any lingering doubts about my sanity. I was fine. I was perfect.

Pager Codes:

110 307 - Go To Bar

209 - On My Way

08 - OK

420 - You’re in trouble

3011 - Be Careful

221 - Where are you?

419 - I don’t understand

100 - Come Back

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[somethingstrangeishere]

TW: leprosy

Baldwin IV with his mommy 🥺

She tries to cheer up her precious boy by doing something sweet for him.

"No, my dear, those bandages don't make you any worse! Please stop putting yourself down for how you look...Look, I made a bow for you! You're cute. I love you, Baldwin."

***

I don't know if you've ever had similar thoughts...I just felt like speaking up. Honestly, it's very hard to put my thoughts and convey what I'm feeling (I'm not a writer and also not a native English speaker), and to be completely honest, as I think about it, my heart hurts and my eyes water. So if you read this - thank you, and sorry for taking up your time. If not - well, I've eased my soul one way or another by speaking out.

***

My heart melts at the thought of a warm, understanding and trusting relationship between parents and children, and I also love the dynamics of family relationships. In this context, mother/son. I don't know, and no one knows anymore, about the relationship Baldwin had with his mother, whether they were close, but I'm not relying on historical reference, but on my interpretation and feelings.

For a good loving mother, her child is the best, the most precious, the most loved and desired. But life does not always turn to you and your child in a good way. Some people are unlucky - whether you are a king or a peasant, a sinner or a saint - fate does not care.

How does a mother feel when her son is mortally ill? Put yourself in her shoes. Just try it.

***

You hold your newborn baby in your arms. Here it is, your little bundle of joy, so tiny, so adorable... You want to give him all the best, now your whole world is him, your little angel!

Your son is growing up, taking his first steps, saying his first words. You dream about his future, you love him so much...

Time passes, you live in love and care for him. And you hope that it will always be like this - or as long as possible...

...Now forget about it.

Suddenly you are hit with devastating news - your son has leprosy. It knocks you off your feet, it chokes you, it tramples you into the ground, tears your heart to pieces. At that moment, as soon as you find out, you see nothing in front of you and hear nothing. Your mind is empty, and there is only one thought of your son, your treasure. Doomed, cursed. If there really is a God, why did he let this happen? Why your child? They say leprosy is a curse from God. Why curse an innocent child?!

Pain, despair, anguish. You want to weep, You want to grab your son, hold him close and never let go. You realise he's doomed. But he doesn't realise it yet.

As time goes on, his health gets worse. Your baby does not understand what is happening to him - he is scared, he is confused, he is waiting for your support and comfort. You smile at him, you give him everything you can - but inside your heart is pounding and tearing as if it were breaking your ribs. Every night you're choked with tears. Your son is your flesh and blood, you gave him life, you brought him into this world, you condemned him to this existence...

Time passes, you do your best, but it seems as if God himself has turned away from you. You pray to all the saints, you beg the Virgin Mary - she is a mother too, she must hear, she cannot fail to understand! But nothing changes.

Your son is growing up, and every year his condition gets worse. His skin is covered with leprosy spots. His eyesight is getting worse. He's always tired, he can't live without the help of doctors and medicines. He's rotting alive. People look askance. People judge. People see a monster. All you see is your angel. Every day you swear to love and care for him, swear you won't leave him...

***

A young 16 years old boy wins a battle. How proud you are of him! How weak his body is, but how strong his spirit. But he too has his moments of vulnerability...

...Especially when he fully realises he doesn't have long to live. He seems to accept it - or pretend to accept it...

How do you feel?

How a mother might feel when she realises that she may see her son die? Bury the one she brought into this world. To live to see that moment is something she doesn't want to do.

Thank you if you read to the end! I'm crying right now😭

[lumosatnight]

23 Fic Recs 2023!

This year has definitely been a year. I've devoured so many wonderful fics by so many amazing authors. Thank you @hprecfest for the super fun rec categories and for some fic inspiration! Here are 23 fics that I read and loved in 2023 (although some are quite a few years older) ordered by ship.

🌼 - fluff | 💔 - angst | 🔥 - smut

—

💫 DRARRY 💫

1. A post-canon fic

The Discreet Gentleman's Connection by pluto (gayrights420) [Drarry, E, 80.4k] 🌼🔥 I had the absolute pleasure of beta-ing for this fic, so when I say it is amazing, it truly is just that. Fast burn on the smut via Floo sex, slow burn on the in-person falling in love. Satisfying in all the best possible ways.

2. A fic that made me laugh

AITA for being "obsessed" with my childhood nemesis? by @rainstormradish [Drarry, M, 4.3k] 🌼📲 Draco on a reddit forum is hilarious just on its own, but the banter and formatting really bring this fic to life. Amazingly creative, had me in stitches!

3. A comfort fic

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered [Drarry, E, 12.0k] 💔⏳ An oldie but a goodie. I constantly find myself coming back to this fic and having my mind blown every single time. Time travel timey-wimey angst.

4. A fic with art

Dating Draco - A Visual Game by @itsphantasmagoria [Drarry, M, Video Game] 🌼🎮 This is a fic in video game form!! Amazing art and lovely story where YOU get to make the choices for Drarry's happily ever after.

5. A favorite series

The Journal of Dreadful Things by @lilbeanz [Drarry, G, 112k, WIP] 🌼📖 Hilarious, witty, AND COMES WITH ART!! Lilbeanz draws and writes a wonderfully delightful series starting from Draco's First Year. His characterization had me in hysterics. Book 4 is starting soon!

—

💫 COMMON SHIPS 💫

6. Fic with the hottest smut

Moonstruck by @prettyremus [Wolfstar, E, 3.8k] 🔥🐺 Found this gem while scrolling through the werewolf smut tag (don't judge me). I love the switch in dynamic with Sirius taming Remus's wolf through, ahem, rough sex.

7. An unreliable narrator fic

Sea of White by @dividawrites [Harrymort, E, 8.6k] 🔥🤍 Deliciously hot, creepy, and strangely sweet. Love their dynamic here, the unrestrained lust. Harrymort "die" and lose their memories, so, of course, then they bang.

8. A fic that made me cry

Far Apart, Far Away by @unmistakablyoatmeal [Hinny, minor Drarry, T, 1.6k] 💔💍 Infidelity angst has never been this good. I love the layers of emotion in this fic. Quick punchy sections that really pulled me in.

9. A Muggle(?) AU fic

Pleasant Hope by @ac1d6urn, @sinick [Snarry, E, 41.6k] 💔⛪️ Pastor Severus!! The angst, pining, and self-discovery in this fic is superb! I love the interwoven magic and detailed world-building of this little town.

—

💫 RARE PAIRS 💫

10. A fav amongst faves

The Last Trial of Peter Pettigrew by @sleepstxtic [Prongstail, M, 20.8k] 💔 🐀 Holy moly, this fic!!!! Is this my new favorite fic?? Possibly. The concept is brilliant, so creative and nuanced. The Peter character study using outsider perspectives is genius. Seamlessly balances canon and new scenes.

11. A pre-canon fic

Careless by @tax-onomic [Luther, E, 1.5k] 🔥🪞 Lucius/Arthur my beloved rare pair!! I am captain of the Luther ship, and Tax's fic hits all the right spots. The pining, the sniping, the prickly personalities with emotional vulnerability underneath! And all in the middle of a hot smut scene. Perfect.

12. A canon-compliant fic

Scottish by thepadfoots [Chedric, G, 749] 💔🌟 Lovely Cho character study focused around her Asian identity and the boy she loved.

13. A fic rated G (more like T though)

Lion-Hearted Girl by MinnieQuill (odainath) [Minmione, G, 4.5k] 💔🦁 I know the large age gap might scare some, but their relationship feels very organic in this fic. The setting is grim, but there is always hope in the darkness!

14. A fic rated T

You're So Vane by @patriceavril [Romelina, T, 6.8k] 🌼💄Romilda is so delightfully characterized, I was smiling through the entire fic. Angelina is the perfect foil (and love interest) to Romilda's attentions.

15. A rare pair fic (less than 2000 fics on AO3)

Snakeskin by @cntrl15 [Bellastoria, E, 3.7k] 🔥👠 Talk about a rare pair! Astoria/Bellatrix only has 2 tagged fics on AO3: this fic and the drabble I wrote based on it. But read this fic, and you'll see why I felt the need to write more in this universe.

16. A fest fic

Master of None by @nanneramma [Snormac, G, 5.5k] ���🧘 Severus is so wonderfully cranky, and Cormac is fine AF. The surprise pairing of 2023 that I never knew I needed and now I'm obsessed with!

17. An under-rated fic

Sun, Shadow, Shade by @naomijameston [Snuna, G, 700] 🌼☀️ Post-war fluff. Sunshine Luna is the perfect match for sullen Snape. A short and sweet fic for this underrated ship.

18. A canon-divergent fic

but somebody's gotta do it by nocturn [Pangulus, T, 920] 😄🧟‍♂️ This fic will make you say WTF but also huh, okay that totally works. The concept is WILD but Lyra executes it wonderfully. Pansy drags Regulus out of the inferi lake and they flirt a little while he gets de-corpsified lol.

—

💫 POLY SHIPS 💫

19. A dark fic

In his embrace by @loneamaryllis [Snarrymort, het!Snarry, E, 48k] ⚡️👀 Dark and dirty but so so good. A Voldemort Wins AU where fem!Harry is taken as prisoner. Snape's mindset as he tries to save her (and is forced to rape her) is so twisted and mesmerizing. Mind the tags!

20. A thought-provoking fic

Icarus by @thistlecatfics [Millvansy, M, 20.0k] 💔🍾 War trauma, addiction, codependency! This fic is messy with emotions but has a strong, beating heart underneath. I am in love with Parvati as she deals with Pansy's addiction and Millicent's denial — three beautiful, imperfect girls.

21. A holiday fic

A Time, Dark and Divine by @moonflower-rose [Dronarry, E, 17.0k] 🔥⛱ HOLY FREAKING FUCK!! The sexual tension in this fic is off the freaking charts. Drarry seducing Ron while on vacation in Portugal. Sign me the fuck up!

—

💫 GEN 💫

22. A favorite fic under 5k

The Scrunchie by @saintsenara [Lightning Era Girls, G, 4.5k] 💖👭 Such a lovely look into some of the female background characters, all following the path of a single scrunchie. Lisa, Padma, Parvati, Hannah, Sally-Anne.

23. A fic with an ending I can't stop thinking about

Through the Middlegame by @sandervansunshine [Astoria & Peter, T, 6.6k] 💔♜ Devastating, heart-wrenching, tragic. 10000% would recommend. Kylee has already heard me screaming in the servers about this fic. If I could get a fic tattooed straight onto my brain, this would be it.

—

💫 BONUS RECS! 💫

A podfic

Plenitude by @wilfriede, written by eldritcher [Amelmione, M, 14 min] 💔🥀 Amazing voices, amazing music, amazing ambience. Wilfriede really brings one of my fav Hermione/Amelia Bones fics to life in this podfic!

A comic

War Prize by @mrviran [Snegulus, Reggiemort, M, Comic, WIP] ☠️🐍 The panels are awe-inspiring. I am HOOKED on this comic. The murder and the TENSION. Ughhhhh so good. I am so invested in Severus's arc!!

A self-rec (completely self-indulgent)

For I Have Found Salvation by @lumosatnight [Snarry, E, 7.1k] 🔥✝ My first time writing Snarry! Priest Kink, church sex, and blasphemous religious imagery. Priest Severus is oh-so-tempted by Teen Harry. So fun to write and even more fun to go back and read as a guilty pleasure.

—

⚡️ Want more fics to read? ⚡️

Try my rec tag: #lumosinthelibrary

Year in Reading, b-day oneshots, WLW Library

[the-queen-of-hell-666]

Masochist

Kinktober 2024 - Day 24

Pairing: Brat!Wade Wilson x Mean!Dom!Fem!Reader

Kink: Pegging

Word Count: 900+

Summary: Wade likes it when you're mean to him.

Warnings: No plot just porn, explicit language, explicit sexual content (use of sex toys, anal sex, anal fingering, multiple orgasms, slight milking, d/s dynamics, dirty talk, teasing, marking, spanking, rough sex, aftercare), established relationship, fluff

a/n: Here is day 24! I wasn't sure what to write for this so I kinda word vomited on the paper but I hope it turned out alright! Hope you enjoy!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

You had Wade on his hands and knees as you worked him open for your thick silicon cock, that was strapped to your hips. The harness was secured around your lower half, perfect for what you two were going to do that night. You were two fingers deep in Wade’s hole, him a whimpering and moaning mess against the sheets as you pressed against his prostate. He was muttering meaningless words as you brought him pleasure, he had already cum once, his cum streaking across his chest and the sheets. You were enjoying listening to his noises of pleasure, your thighs clenching as he gave pathetic and needy whines. You had already soaked your black and red lace panties that matched your strap because you were so turned on by Wade’s noises. 

You spat on the fingers that were inside of him, making the thrusts slicker. He cried your name as you pressed against his sweet spot harder, “Such pathetic noises, Wade. You sound like a bitch in heat.” You chuckled cruelly, your free hand spanking his ass hard. 

“Mm, fucking hell, can’t help it. I’m so fucking sensitive.” Wade whined and grinded back against your fingers, his hands tugging at the ropes that were tied to the headboard, keeping his hands bound. “Oh my god.” He moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

“Mm, did I hit your special spot? You like the pleasure I’m giving you?” You smirked already knowing his answer as you slid a third finger into his stretched hole.

“F-fuck. M’ready, want you to fuck me. Wanna feel you in my fucking throat.” He groaned and yanked on the rope. 

“Patience, Wade. I wanna take my time with you. Like when you get all whiny and needy. Makes me soaking wet.” You purred as you leaned down and bit into his asscheek, making him gasp and moan louder.

“Y-you teasin’ bitch. Please, please, want your cock.” He huffed and grinded his hips back against you again, earning himself a hard smack to his inner thigh. 

“Watch your tone, baby. I could leave you like this all night. Just right on the edge, while you watch me fuck myself with the cock I was going to fuck you with.” You warned as you started to withdraw your fingers. 

“W-wait, no, no. M’sorry. Want you bad. Please, I want your cock so bad.” He whined and laid his head down on the pillows, biting into the fabric as you slammed your fingers back into his hole. You smirked and pulled your fingers out before spitting into his gaping hole and slipping the tip of your strap into his hole. He gasped at the stretch as you slowly worked your cock into his sloppy hole. “T-thank you. Oh, fuck, t-thank you.” He whined and tugged on the ropes again.

You gripped his hips tight in your hands and slowly started thrusting in and out of his hole, “Mm, that’s a good boy. You look so fucking pretty like this. My pretty merc.” You smirked and you spanked his ass before moving faster in and out of him. He let out moans and whines as the tip of the fake cock slammed into the spongy sensitive spot inside of him. 

You pounded in and out of his ass, spanking his ass hard, leaving handprints on his flesh that healed up in seconds. His noises grew louder, as the tip of his cock leaked pre all over his chest and the sheets. His cock twitched with each movement, begging for attention from you. You brought your hand around to his mouth, “Spit.” You ordered and he immediately spat into your palm, you reached around and wrapped your palm around his throbbing cock. You stroked him tightly, squeezing him from the base and up to his tip. He groaned and whined at the new sensation mixed with the stimulation against his sweet spot. He could feel his orgasm growing quickly with each thrust of the fake cock. 

“M’close. So fucking close. Wanna cum, need to cum.” He whined as his thighs shook with the effort that it took to keep himself up. 

You smirked at the neediness in his voice, “Do you think you deserve to cum? You did call me a bitch.” You mocked and spanked his ass again. 

He cried and pulled on the ropes again, “Please, m’sorry. I want to cum. I need to cum. Please, baby.” He whined and you chuckled and spanked him again, stroking him faster and tighter. 

“Cum for me.” You ordered and thumbed at his tip and he cried out your name and came hard. His thighs gave out on him as he shot his cum onto his chest and onto the bed sheets. You stroked him through his orgasm and you pressed kisses all over his back as he came down from his high. 

After you had cleaned him up, you two were soaking in a bath together. You were sitting behind him with him laying on your chest as you massaged his hips softly. “I wasn’t too hard on you, was I?” You asked quietly as he nuzzled into your neck. 

“No. You were perfect. I like when you get rough with me.” He hummed as he kissed on your neck, his muscles relaxing into the warm water. 

“Masochist.” You snorted and he chuckled and pulled away and kissed your lips passionately. 

“You love it.” He whispered against your lips. 

You nodded with a giggle, “I do.”

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 37!

another week, another list of brilliant brilliant fics <3 i hope you find some new favourites here!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings and some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading!

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

descendants of cyrano | letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/@letmetellyouaboutmyfeels | 55.3k | E

People have their characters romance each other all the time while playing Dungeons & Dragons. There's deep meaningful monologues and sometimes some crying. It's normal. "Normal" is definitely not the word for whatever Buck and Eddie are inflicting on the rest of the 118. i reread this for maybe the third time this week? idk the point is i've read it multiple times and it continues to be one of my favourite fics <3 the d&d bits are brilliant and i love buddie and the 118 friendships and everything!!

dreamverse | clairo_shade | 3.4k | T

If anyone asks—it’s Karen’s fault. That’s what Eddie is going to make sure is written on his gravestone when this colossal lapse in judgment ends with him burying himself six feet under. this is technically a double rec cause the sequel is also great!! fluff and humour is one of my favourite tags and this captures both perfectly <3

family (portrait) | ProsperDemeter/@prosperdemeter2 | 45.1k | T

realizing that the family that you need has been beside you all along. i love the family dynamics here, both the complex buckley family ones and the maddie & buck & jee & chim & eddie stuff. brilliant fic!

i'm hearing secret harmonies | Chash | 18k | T

When the firefighter walks into Eddie's coffeeshop, Eddie immediately knows two things about him: he's not human, and he's the love of Eddie's life. i love witch eddie so much!! the diaz family here is so lovely as well <3

life like a face between your palms | hattalove/ @hattalove | 9.6k | M

in which eddie is sweet, and buck is a little undone by it. sweet eddie my absolute most beloved <3 the tooth-rotting fluff tag has never been more accurate!

a place in the clouds | lesbianrobin/@lesbianrobin | 5.1k | G

the Diaz family make their way home. the ultimate eddie and chris moving to la roadtrip fic <3 i love their dynamic here so much!!

to hold you up | selfmythology| 4.6k| T

Five times Evan “Buck” Buckley cared for someone, and one time someone cared for him. i love the different friendships highlighted here and the buddie scene is so lovely!!

whatever you knead i'm just a massage away | znks/@znks | 3k | E

if your best friend doesn't reveal his secret physical therapist skills to help you out then what's the point what's the point indeed?? there's something so special and intimate about massage fics and this hits the spot perfectly <3

[readychilledwine]

Edgeplay

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

Welcome to the side of BDSM most people are very nervous about. Edgeplay is an umbrella of play types that tend to push the limitations of safety and emotional and mental well-being. This type of play can be triggering, so consider from here forward a trigger warning for this one-shot.

Edgeplay is not for the faint of heart. The types of play in this umbrella include consensual non consent, blood play, knife play, fire play, more extreme forms of rope play, breath play, impact play with implements that are faster to draw blood (studded paddles, kendo sticks, whips, canes, etc.), fire play, gun play, extreme temperature play, orgasm wrecking, and one of my very hard limitations, scat play and water sports. It is not uncommon for these play types to leave permanent reminders of play for years to come.

This type of play requires a very deep connection and level of trust between dom and sub. Some of these activities can kill you, and in recent years, the excitement behind that statement has been romanticized to the point that they began their own subgenre of the spice and romance literature world: Dark Romance.

I will be honest, I was SHOCKED and gagged and then felt evil with how I planned this out, to have our sweet baby LuLu requested for this. It is more mild than had I gotten Azriel because I can not see Lucien being super into play that could leave him potentially scarred and I could not see him being the dom in a situation that would potentially scar his play partner. I hope you all still like it, though!

💕Peep the Valentines Day List Here💕

As always, NSFW below the cut

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Warnings - male sub dynamics, mommy kink, wax play, rope play, orgasm wrecking and edging, breathplay, use of safe word.

Something about Lucien was just so pretty when he begged. 

Maybe it was the pouty full lips. Maybe it was the whispered desperation. The soft look in his eyes was a plus, too. “Mommy,” you had denied him seconds away from an orgasm again. Lucien's chest had splatters of wax across it, his hair a tangled mess from pulling it constantly.

He has asked you to push him limitations. You were happy to oblige. “What color are you, baby?”

Through wet lashes, Lucien looked up at you, lip trembling slightly. “Yellow.” You began stroking his head. “Just need to cum.”

You tutted him. “Yellow means we slow down,” you began straddling his waist, holding the candle again. “Do you not remember your safe colors, baby?”

“I remember, mommy,” his hands moved to your thighs, gripping them tightly as that first drop if wax hit his abs. He hissed and squirmed, a whimper leaving his throat. 

“Did you forget your safe word?”

Another drop had him groaning, “No, mommy.”

You smiled, spare hand tracing his fingers, “Did you forget the rule about touching me?” He only whimpered in response as you flicked your wrists, and his hands were tied above his head. You had taken his one comfort and knew that limitations were about to be further pushed and possibly broken. “What's your safeword, baby?” You had set the candle down, sinking in to him inch by slow inch, watching the rise and fall of his chest before picking the candle back up.

“Red or Beron.”

“Do you need to use them?”

He shook his head, “Not yet.”

You leaned in kissing His pouty lips softly. “Would you like to start again?”

“Yes, mommy. Still yellow.”

You nodded, beginning to ride him slowly and tenderly while dropping wax on him occasionally. You were purposely aiming for spots that were already covered, so he didn't feel the full effect. You watched as he physically relaxed, whines becoming moans of your name, pleading for more. 

You bounced faster, hips moving in a rhythm you knew he loved. You began pouring the wax on exposed skin while your hand went to rest on his throat. 

You were watching Lucien closely, ensuring he was okay as you began to bring him back to his high. His beautiful face began to switch every so often, pleasure mixing with pain, and fading back to bliss. He was so close, and you wanted to give him a reward, allow him to fill your aching clenching cunt with his seed and then snuggle him and clean up. 

But something was preventing him from finding that bliss, from tipping over the edge. Your hand had moved from his throat, resting on his chest instead, but he didn't relax, falling back into whines and whimpers below you, begging softly. 

You went to set the candle down, one last drop of wax falling onto his collarbone area as you did, and it happened. “BERON!”

You  felt the room shift, stopping all motion. “I'm going to get off of you, okay?”

Lucien nodded, tears forming in his eyes as he did. “I'm sorry-”

You hushed him gently, moving to sit beside him and reaching to untie him. “Do not apologize to me. We tried a few new things, and it was too much. You never apologize for needing to stop, Lucien.”

“I just kept waiting for you to rip it away again, to stop and.. and you didn't.. but-” 

You began playing with his hair as his hands found your bare skin, feeling for comfort, squeezing plush flesh to regroup himself. 

“It's okay, Lu. You're safe.. I'm so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I wanted to try.”

You began peeling the wax off, praising him as you did. “What can we do to make you feel better?”

“A bath.”

“Then let's go take a bath.” You pulled him off the bed, walking him to the bathroom, and began running the tub. “Let's get this wax off. I love you, Lu.”

He smiled down at you. “I love you too. Also, never realized how quickly my father's name could kill a mood.”

“So fast,” you laughed.

He smiled harder, glowing softly at the happiness flowing from both ends of the bond. “So fucking fast.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

[prisoner-of-sin]

A Night of Passion [18+]

Langley x female!reader

Warnings: Langley has a dick, teasing, rough sex, minor interruption, power dynamics, female!reader, overstimulation, punishment, brief masturbation, orgasm denial. NSFW!

This is a pure thirst fic. I originally posted this on Ao3! I hope you all enjoy. Please stay safe out there.

Requests: OPEN

"Why are you being slow?" You whine as your head is shoved against the pillows. Langley chuckles, gripping your hips making crescent shapes in your skin–slowly moving you against her cock. Your impatience was adorable yet so punishable, defiance never settled well with her. She glides through your wet folds, teasing your entrance and settling against you. She grabs your hair, forcing you against her front–lips dancing on your damp neck.

"Why? I can be. You need to have more patience, Rookie. Here I am, making sure you are prepared and ready; yet you wish you were taken." Her hot breath feels scolding against your ear, she tightens her hold against your hair and hip–warning you to not wiggle around. "You think I wish to be slow? This restraint for you, comes like second nature but it's difficult to fight the urges. Your pussy leaks for me, begging to be fucked." She bites your neck, proving how she easily melts you into a puddle. You cry out from her words and action, trying your damnedest to not grind against her.

You get no words out when your front meets the bed again. Langley said this meeting would be quick, there was an 'appointment' coming to her apartment soon. Yet, here she was being slow and taking her sweet time. Time ticked by agonizingly as she lined up her cock, pushing it in briefly before pulling out and humming at your whines. You could slam yourself back against her, shaking both of you to core but unknowing of what she would do–makes you excited.

She was too slow, way too slow. Your thoughts jumbled together as she sinks her length entirely into you–one solid motion without hesitation. Every movement you tried was stilled by her, the way her fingers slid down your back; leaving the faintest lines as she settled both hands on your hips.

"Do you feel that? You're taking me so well," Langley questions, one hand moving to press into your womb. Your whines are a delicious nectar to her, she always craves more. "You can't keep yourself together, hanging on by a thread and ruining my sheets. I've only just started!" She chuckles, pushing against your womb to silence your building protest. It was until she slowly pulled out and pushed back in at a torturous pace. She won't crack under the pressure; you, on the other hand, will break easily. The burn felt amazing, she stretched you perfectly and hit all the spots inside of you perfectly.

"P-please!" You beg, trying to buck against her. She quirks an eyebrow before her hand slaps against your ass, having the flesh ripple as you gasp. Her hands hold you firmly as her hips snap against you, hitting one of the sweet spot within you; she was trying to end every ounce of you.

Langley seemed to have too much fun torturing you, uncaring about her own pleasure as her leisurely pace made you yearn for more. "Listen to yourself, whining like a pathetic little girl." She coos, mocking your every action with striking precision. She deliberately pulls out of your oozing cunt and fixates how your essence coats her pulsing cock. She bites her lip as you try to grind back against nothing, you are dripping and making a mess–uncaring of your own actions as your sanity slowly breaks. This game she was playing was nearly unbearable: you just wanted to feel her, to fuck you until you forgot everything but her name.

She was going to ensure your mind was nothing but broken, then finally caving in and giving what you desire. Your hips move instinctively, trying hard to seek her out but Langley's grip only tightens–nearly breaking the very skin as she imprints crescent indents. She effectively kept you in place; she will move when she is ready to, not you. You try not to whine, your fists ball into the silky sheets as your teeth nearly ripped open the soft flesh of your lip. Her hold loosens as her hands trail up your back, just to rake back down. She enjoys watching you squirm, begging to be fuck.

Langley's hips unexpectedly snap forward, cock buried as you gasp and hold onto the sheets. She wastes no time to pull back and set a bruising pace, one that has you speechless–moaning out as your brain slowly scrambles. One hand moves up your back and grabs the back of your neck, forcing you face down into the mattress, nearly cutting off your air supply as she uses you like a toy. The only noise echoing throughout the room are wet slaps and muffled moans.

Langley groans as your walls squeeze around her, pulling her even further inside if it was possible. The pleasure blinds them, each slap of pelvis meeting ass only spurs them along and begs for the sweet symphony of release. She gazes over your back, finally settling on your ass jiggling after every thrust; the way her cock disappeared and shines from your arousal–it was breathtaking.

"Rookie, you're mine. Do you understand me?" A rush vertigo hits as Langley yanks you back, resting her chin against your shoulder; ultimately halting all movement. "You were close, no? You gripped me so tightly, just as a whore should." Her whispers were venomous, but it left you whimpering–grinding against her desperately to get the orgasm you desired. She kisses your shoulder and leads them to your neck, a rare display of affection from the woman.

An unanticipated knock interrupts the passion between you two, warranting a sigh from Langley and a whine from you as she pulls out. "Fun is always interrupted, is it not? Don't touch yourself." She warns, gently pushing you down to rest against the bed as she walks away to fetch a robe. You roll over, squeezing your thighs together as you fight the urge to tip yourself into bliss.

You stare at the ceiling, imagining countless ways Langley could ruin you during the time she's absent. The way her finger spread open your puffy lips, circling the sensitive clit before slowly leaning down to engulf the same part into her lips. Or, how her cock could be slamming into you–ascending you to the heavens and refusing to let you have a moment of respite. Your hand slowly slides down to your folds, grazing over them as you debate to touch yourself.

"I hope you're thinking about me," Langley climbs on the bed and opens your legs, revealing everything to her. Her gaze leisurely locks onto yours before giving a brief smile. "Nearly touching yourself without my consent. I believe that deserves punishment." She moves to lay on the bed, head resting against your thigh. Her green eyes seem to glow as she starts her plan. You whimper as her tongue agonizingly laps over your outer folds, it needed to be more; the orgasm was being wished away from you as you were being toyed with.

You attempt to tangle your hands in Langley's hair but she swats them away, scolding you with a nibble to your clit. She incases your thighs with her hands, racking her nails down the flesh–goosebumps erupt over the same spot and spread further. Her index finger brushes over your clit–making you mewl and shift in the sheets. This was torture, her being so slow that everything was replaced with need and annoyance. You gasp as her tongue messily licks a stripe from the entrance to your clit, rubbing it as her tongue reaches its destination. She low-key moans as the essence coats her tongue. It takes all her might to not dive in more, like a pussy drunk fool.

"Hold it." Langley warns, latching her lips to your clit. You dig your hands back into the sheets, moaning loudly as your back arches; there was no way you could prevent your orgasm. There was a smile before she hollowed her cheeks and moved away with a soft lick. She gazes at the mess you've made before plunging two fingers deep inside of you. No noise leaves your lips, she curls them–assaulting the spongy patch to have tears rolling down your flustered cheeks. "Don't slip, you won't like it if you do." Your eyes were squeezed shut as you pant like a dog in heat; the temptation to bite your bottom lip was high, it would only warrant disapproval.

Langley shifts to undo her loose robe, her hand making way to her pulsing cock to relieve herself minorly. The wetness from your arousal earlier was present, but she found herself mixing the leaking precum into it. She hoped you slipped, the punishment in mind would benefit you both–only you would lose yourself completely, devoted to only her. It's what she craved.

You wanted Langley to stop moving her fingers, the squelch is followed by soft fap sounds echoed throughout the room. You were unbelievably soaked and you knew it, she always had this effect on you–at work or within the safety of her apartment. You wanted to wrap your lips around her cock, watch how she tried to keep a straight face but the grip on your hair gave it away. The small gasps that never went unnoticed. You could convince her later after being such a good girl for her.

"I…I won't..won't!" You manage to spill out. Langley chuckles and quickens her fingers, waiting patiently for you to crack. She hammers her fingers into you, spelling out how much you need to crack. Your knuckles are nearly white as you fought against your impending doom. The fast and brutal treatment lasted not as long as you wished for, she was pulling away entirely.

"N-no!" You beg, shivering slightly at Langley's breath on your thigh. She offered no words, her tongue slips from her lips and prods at your entrance. Your hands clutch her disheveled locks, rolling your hips against her mouth–trying to get the scale to tip despite the warning. She groans as you pull her hair, the vibrations unintentionally reverberating through you earning choked sobs alongside her new onslaught.

Langley's sheer willpower is strong enough to prevent herself from falling for self pleasure. You could beg her to indulge but bite back the very words, the moans and sobs were overpowering every other noise you could produce. Her tongue slips inside of you, savoring every ounce of slick pouring out. Your peak is quick to hit like lightning, vision blurring as the moans are heightened in pitch and volume. "L..Lan- ah!!" You failed to finish your sentence as she feverishly ate you out, the vigorous pace not once stopping despite you disobeying her demand and peaking into nirvana.

Your back arches as everything snapped and sweet bliss washed over you, your nails dog into her scalp making Langley groan. You slump back against the bed, exhausted and out of breath. You felt heavy, any movement made you twitch and her overstimulation only made it worse.

"I told you not to cum, poor thing.. You know punishment is coming?" Langley slowly moves back from your pussy, lips slick with your essence–her piercing gaze watching you. "Am I the only one who can make you feel this way? You're mine." She settles between your legs, hand gripping your chin as a smirk forms on them delicious lips; the possessive tone shooting straight through you. You look over her disheveled appearance, the blond locks messy from all your needy pulling.

"Mine.." Langley growls, rutting against you as she bends down and kissing the sweaty column of your neck. She bites down earning a deep moan from you, moving your hips to seek her. She licks over the mark, reaching down and holding your hips still. You tilt your head, giving her more access to produce multiple marks all over. She hums in approval, sucking and biting the revealed skin; purposely sliding her cock against your soaked slit.

"Yours, A-all yours.." You stutter as your breathing escalates, you want more but you have no willpower to admit such a demand. Your thoughts stop as Langley ruts against you, teasingly having her tip nudge against your clit. She pulls away enough to circle one arm around your waist, taking advantage of the fact you arched into her. Her eyes look over your neck before settling on your fucked out face. She leans down, capturing your lips in a breathtaking embrace, purposely sliding her cock against you.

"What should your punishment be?" Langley's hot breath remains on your lips. Your answer was immediate.

"Fuck me."

Langley chuckles, pausing her movements and kissing your cheek. "You've wanted that all along, didn't you?" You shudder at her breath tickling your skin, her lips never seem to touch you again. She refuses to give you want you wanted, instead she was implementing her own way to torture you. She loves to hear you whine and be compliant, seeing you slowly delve into the sea of frustration as she remains strong willed. She would not admit how much she wanted to see you sob as you struggled to keep awake, her thrusting so deep and brutal that you'd feel the ghost movements tomorrow.

"I hope you're ready to receive what I have planned." Langley kisses you one last time, sitting up before digging into her desires. You shudder at her tone dropping in octave, spreading your legs further apart to urge her to hasten.

This was going to be a long, tiring night. One of which you'll likely lose your voice and have to call out of work the next morning. It will be worth it, spending a night with Langley always is.

[mimikyuno]

my yuriful summer 2024 watchlist 🏖️☀️

now that i checked out the first episode of all the yuriful shows i was keeping an eye on, here’s my first thoughts and impressions

Mayonaka Punch

tags: comedy, supernatural, vampire

thoughts on episode 1: LOVED IT SO SO MUCH!!! i love the mc already she’s such a mess and i already love the dynamic between her and the raging vampire lesbian. my favorite from the ones on this list tbh!! need more cancelled youtubers and horny for blood lesbian vampires. also i have a weak spot for anime with adult characters who can drink alcohol and get wasted lol. WILL be watching EAGERLY.

yuri thoughts 🌸: the yuri looks solid!! there was verbal mention of lesbian romantic feelings. and as in most vampire shows, blood drinking is metaphor for sex but it’s made quite explicit in this one which increases the yuri score. the protagonists have already a v interesting dynamic im invested.

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: i love this one more and more!!! still my fave out of these 5 for some reason? i just like masaki and live’s dynamic a lot, i hope they kiss

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: only one of these im still watching lmao ep 9 and 10 were really good! i hope masaki and live make out by the end. yuki best girl

Na Nare Hana Nare

tags: sports

thoughts on episode 1: LOVE the colors and art style in this one! love that there’s a girl in a wheelchair!! love the brazilian girl who keeps kissing everyone!! the parkour girl is turbo autistic fr… also a ninja lmao. im v interested in this tbh!! will be watching.

yuri thoughts 🌸: im v interested in the possible yuriful dynamics, especially between the girl in a wheelchair and mc, and between parkour ninja autistic and tall girl. i think the brazilian girl and girl who follows her around are also supposed to be shipped.

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: yeppp turbo autism ninja is a huge lesbian i love her sm 💌. very sweet show!

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: on hold. it got quite boring at the ep 5 mark and i cant will myself to continue. might drop

Senpai was Otokonoko

tags: crossdressing, love polygon, romance, school

thoughts on episode 1: this counts as yuriful and i Will fight u on this. bisexual girl x closeted trans girl x closeted gay childhood friend love triangle? discussions of gender identity? yes pls. will be continuing it!!

yuri thoughts 🌸: makoto and aoi are cute 🥹

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: idc about whatever happens later on, makoto is a trans girl, episode 2 and 3 are an insane confirmation. even if she never breaks through her eggshell throughout the whole series, she’s trans. no like fr. i love her so so much and i hope she’ll be able to transition (either at the end of the series or afterwards). egg of the season 🥚🏳️‍���️

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: meh. dropped lmao

Shikanoko Nokonoko Koshitantan

tags: comedy, gag humor, school

thoughts on episode 1: “shiiiika 🦌!!!” okay y’all know i love me some gag humor anime but tbqh im feeling kinda lukewarm on this one. maybe it’s bc i had rly high expectations for this but idk most of the gags did not hit as nice as i hoped. tho some of them were brilliant (also looove the constant breaking of the fourth wall). not looking forward to the siscon character that’s gonna be introduced. will be continuing but might drop if i get bored. however i loved how they Did mention that only male deer have horns sooo… noko transbian 🦌🏳️‍⚧️?

yuri thoughts 🌸: the two protagonists have great yuri potential!! torako has already shown she’s a huge girl kisser and noko just keeps teasing her, which is a great dynamic imo. also torako’s va is hatsune miku’s voice provider, and we all know hatsune miku is transbian goddess so!

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: okay nvm i actually love this!!!!!! and the siscon character is such a caricature and parody of the siscon trope that i love her too (also she’s voiced by mafuyu project sekai uwu).

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: dropped lmao (gags got boring, i have seen too many similar shows)

VTuber Nandaga Haishin Kiri Wasuretara Densetsu ni Natteta

tags: comedy, otaku culture

thoughts on episode 1: once again maybe unpopular opinion but im not completely sold on this one. yes it’s fun, yes she’s unhinged, yes they’re all absolutely raging homosexuals BUT idk how to explain it but it feels very much male oriented. idk i think i feel this way bc it’s my personal pet peeve when otaku shows focus mostly on men as the intended audience (for example, when they showed her audience, all the viewers were men which like. they could have shown at least one woman who likes watching her videos yknow?). so anyway. at least it’s incredibly gay? and once again, love characters gettinf drunk lol. but idk i feel like this was made to ride the wave of hololive and get men on twitter to share funny clips idk. i like how they use actual vtuber avatars in certain scenes, and i get the vibe they’ll want to make these girls real vtubers, hence why we dont see what they actually look like but just their vtuber persona. will be checking out more ep but will drop if it gets too meh.

yuri thoughts 🌸: as mentioned, all the girls are RAGING homosexuals fr. asking about favorite lesbian porn scenarios to each other to possibly act them out. hello?!

(EDIT) POST EP 3 THOUGHTS: again nvm, i like this one too now lmao tho i’d rank it last out of these 5 tbh. but it’s so unhinged and deranged that it’s a super fun watch

(EDIT) ALMOST END OF THE SEASON UPDATE: the wii fit -like episode was the last drop. burnt braincells i’ll never grow back. dropped byeee 0/10

[mncxbe]

helloo could you do... spicy prompt 3 (car sex) with fukuchi... possibly... I need him

fav dilf mentioned i'm here to serve😳🫡 hope you like it nonnie♡

3 — Car sex

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: office dynamics, power imbalance, he's a bit mean, hair pulling

"Come on, darling, I don't have all day" mocked the man behind you, a large hand soothing the globes of your ass. You huffed in response, shifting your hips, trying to lower yourself on his cock.

What on earth made you think you could take him with no prep? God knows, but it sure didn't seem like a good idea now that you were barely able to take half of his dick in. But at least you were facing away from him so you couldn't see the shit eating grin on his face.

"You're almost there, sweetheart. Just a few more inches" he mused, but you could hear him suck in a breath when your hips came flush against his lap, his length fully sheated inside you. "There you go that's it move your hips like that" he instructed, aiding your movements.

You were damn lucky the car had tinted windows and no one could see you fucking yourself dumb on your captain's cock but if any of your colleagues were to come and check why Fukuchi was late for his speech and found you like this...

A harsh tug at your hair snapped you out of your trance as Fukuchi pulled your back flush against his chest. The new angle allowed him to fully hit your sweet spot, making your body tense up in anticipation "S-sir–"

"What's the problem, darling? Worried someone might see you letting me use you like the slut you are?" he taunted, bucking his hips up against yours "Everyone knows you're fucking me already. No need to be shy about it"

Your anxiety spiked at his words. Fuck, this could be bad, the last thing you needed were rumors about you making it to the hunting dogs because you were fucking the captain. Your performace was poor anyway and such a scandal could probably end up with you losing your position. "Did you tell?" you babbled out between huffs and mewls.

" 'course not sweetheart. But it's plain as fucking day. You latch onto me like a lost puppy. Swear you're worse than Teruko, at least she's got some dignity and doesn't let men have her way with her"

Despite his amused tone, his words struck a cord– were you really that bad? was it that damn obvious that you liked him? Before you knew it, Fukuchi lifted you off his lap and turned you to face him, a shadow of concern looming on his features. You really were so damn sensitive, always reading too much into things and taking everything personal. He wouldn't normally mind it, but he had a soft spot for you– he even felt bad for teasing you like that.

Caressing your cheek with his thumb, Fukuchi tilted your chin up, making you face him. "Hey, darling. Don't overthink it, just relax and let me take care of everything, ok?"

You nodded hesitantly, toying with the buttons of his uniform "Promise?" "Of course" he chuckled, his hands finding purchase on your hips again "Now, I can spare a few more minutes, so how about you ride me like the good girl you are?"

𐙚prompts closed

[winterwump]

Gun x goo x reader smut plzzzzzz love your writing ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

🎄🤍Happy-Poly Days🤍🎄

Author’s Note: Hello Hello!! Thx so much for the request. I really hope this is good cuz I feel rusty (even tho it’s been 3 months😭)

CW: 🚨BREATHPLAY/CHOKING🚨 (it’s mild tho), And very light BDSM dynamics

This was not beta read so if you see an error, just kindly ignore it pls!! Oh and, this is the position I had in mind when writing this 💦

ENJOY!!

You never thought that a poly real would ever work for you, especially with guys like Gun and Goo. If anything, you thought that the two were better off with each other. But here you are interlocked between their sweaty bodies. And you couldn’t say you hated it, because it was the most heavenly experience.

Gun had his hands firmly around your neck, depriving you of just the right amount while Goo kept up the ruthless pace he’d set as thrusted up into your needy pussy. The breath play just sort of happened. Gun and Goo liked it and it turns out that you loved it. And of course, you all loved breath play for different reasons. Each nastier than the next.

Gun liked choking you because he loved how glassy and lost your eyes became as you let your pleasure take over. Even if you weren’t staring back at him, which was most times, Gun would still hazily study how your facial expression would change as you were getting fucked- all the while whispered sweet nothings to you. Goo liked it for the simple-carnal reason that whenever you were getting choked, your pussy was tightest it’s ever been. Goo saw your vice-like grip on his cock as a challenge to see how long he could keep fucking you. And despite his impressive sexual stamina, the grip of your pussy made him crumble in the best way.

You loved being choked because: God, it felt good to just let go (ironically). While your pussy was throbbing and spasming around anything your walls could feel, the rest of you was so pleasantly lost in all the sensations (or lack there of them) that came with the frequent threesome that you three engaged in. Be it the way that Goo kept your G-spot perfectly stimulated, or the firm and dominant nature that Gun took on while coaching you an orgasm that would surely wreck you. And wreck you it did. Because even in your dazed orgasmic state you managed to hear about how you drenched Goo, coincidentally, at the same time he filled your insides. You could hear the two sharing a laugh, you always loved that sound.

.

The smell of a cigarette hit you first when you came back to your body. Looking around, you found yourself being securely held by Gun in a scene that looked borderline domestic.

“Finally you’re up. You good?” - He was giving you bedroom eyes which indicated that the night was far from over.

When you opened your mouth in a move to reassure him, you realized that your voice was nowhere to be found.

“Now you know she can’t speak yet, Gun” - Goo said with a smug laugh as he threw his naked self onto the bed next to you.

Choosing to ignore Goo in that moment, Gun used a free hand to gently bring your attention back to him - “That’s okay, you can nod right [Y/N]?”

And to that you gave a demure nod, your anticipation was evident even when your voice was gone.

“Good girl.”

I really hope you liked thisss. And kudos to you if you got the pun in the title lol. BYE!!