#i think i have to sell my soul now

[seokminfilm]

i squealed like a madman when i saw 1800s britain au

Ꮺ cold ice, cinnamon smiles // lee seokmin

dokyeom x gn!reader, 1.6k words

tags: 1800s britain au, christmas au, ice skating, fluff, meet cute, strangers to lovers, seokmin is the 3 c's: cute and clumsy and chivalrous

warnings: none

notes: merry christmas everyone ^_^

summary: winter is a harsh time of the year, cold and merciless, but what happens when you meet a boy who has a smile warm enough to melt the coldest of ice?

When the weather gets cold enough, sometimes the river Thames will freeze over.

It’s utterly delightful, because it allows you to take out your skates, dress up as warm as possible, and spend several hours on the ice that had once been the river, breathing in the bitingly cold air and sighing in content.

This year, it's right on Christmas Eve, so it means there's the gentle, warm scent of cinnamon and nutmeg wafting through the air from the Christmas fairs set up along the river, as people skate over the recently-frozen surface, spending some time before their cherished holiday out on the ice.

There’s the chatter of children as they slide delightedly over the ice, the laughter of teenagers as they slip into each other, even the fond chuckles of adults as they help each other stay upright.

Your parents are out on the river somewhere, too, skating hand in hand, in their own world away from the shrieks and laughs of the public. 

It’s sweet.

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back, gliding effortlessly across the river, cheeks stinging with cold but your mind feeling blessedly content when—

“Oh, do watch out!”

Your eyes fly open just in time to see a flurry of brown wool collide with you, and your hands shoot out almost instantly, staggering back a little to catch the person who had barrelled into you.

The stranger yelps, stumbling into your hold, and it’s a good thing that you’re a decently good skater because otherwise this person would have sent you both flying across the ice.

“Sorry, sorry, oh good Lord, I’m sorry,” the person apologises profusely, leaning out of your arms as soon as he gains his balance, brushing his hair out of his face with a finger, eyes wide and earnest and apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to just slam into you like that.”

You smile, ready to brush away his apologies, because really this could happen to anyone, but as you look properly at the stranger, your breath hitches in your throat.

Dark, soft hair falling into big, gentle eyes. Warm twinkles in his irises and winter-ruddy flushes of red on his cheeks that make him look like some sort of delicately crafted doll, and when he smiles shyly, it's like a ray of white gold light spilling over the grey landscape of winter.

This man is beautiful.

And he’s still apologising, over and over, and he’s brushing down the sleeves of your coat, checking that you’re okay, and you want to laugh a little because goodness, it seemed that this stranger was cute and beautiful.

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” you say, resting a hand on his arm to stay his fretful movements, smiling. “It’s okay, I’m completely fine.”

The man pauses, looking at you with worried eyes. “Are you sure?” he says. “You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

He goes back to patting you down again, and if it were any other man, you’d feel outraged at how he’s touching you so easily like this, but his hands are nothing but a gentle pressure over your arms, your shoulders, and the concern emanating from his touch.

“I’m okay, truly,” you say, laughing a little. “I’m strong,” you add, when he looks at you disbelievingly. “My mother has been teaching me to skate since I was little girl. We have a lake in our estate, you see, and in the winter, it always freezes over.”

His eyes widen at your words. “E—estate? Are you—oh, dear, which Lord is your father?”

He looks panicked, eyes widening even further and face falling in fear that he’s damaged the precious child of some haughty and terrifying aristocrat, and it’s so painfully adorable to you that you laugh again, shaking your head.

“No, no, nothing like that. My family and I are just… reasonably well-off,” you say. He still looks like he doesn’t believe you, though, so you stick a hand out. “I’m Y/N. Just plain old me, no fancy titles or anything. I promise.”

The man looks down at your hand, and then up at your face again, and something about your faintly smiling expression must convince him you’re telling the truth, because he grasps your hand firmly, eyes shining.

He doesn’t shake your hand, however, and adjusts his grip to delicately hold your fingers, bending down, making your eyes widen.

Gently, his lips brush against your knuckles, and he looks up at you with golden eyes. “Lee Seokmin,” he introduces, voice soft. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Heart in your throat, you can hardly take your eyes off of him as he smiles, a warm curling of his lips, warmer than the warmest cinnamon scent, glowing in the dim English winter light. Speechless, you watch as he straightens, still holding your hand, and he opens his mouth to say something before suddenly his eyes widen, and he tips backwards, a startled cry leaving his mouth.

Almost in slow motion, you feel yourself tug forward too, and the entire world falls to a hush as you collide into his chest, falling, falling, falling to land right on Seokmin as his back hits the cold ice of the Thames.

Seokmin blinks up at you, and his hair is a feathery soft mess around his head, the white ice giving him an almost angelic glow, and when his lips part around a soft “oh” you can’t help your gaze unintentionally flicking down towards the soft pink of his mouth.

And then everything hits you at once—especially the fact that you’re lying on top of him, in public—and you hurry to scramble off, cheeks flushing with more than just the cold.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, face heating up horribly fast, “I—Are you okay?” You hold out a hand to him, and after a moment of rapid blinking, Seokmin takes it, shakily getting to his feet with the help of your steady hands.

He really is rather wobbly on his skates. You wonder why he’s out here in the first place.

“No, goodness, I’m the one that’s sorry,” Seokmin says, and his cheeks are red too, redder than they were before the fall. “I’m so sorry for pulling you down with me.” He rubs at his cheeks, the action bashful and adorable as you worriedly brush ice flecks from his coat. “I really am rather terrible at skating.”

He looks down, embarrassed, looking rather like a dejected puppy, and you resist the urge to lean over and ruffle his hair.

Instead, you just hum, looking him up and down to avoid lingering to long on at the small pout forming on his face, lest you suddenly lose all self-control and try to kiss it away.

“I could teach you?” you offer. “Because luckily for you, I am rather good at skating myself.”

It’s honestly rather adorable how quickly he perks up at that, beaming. “Really? Oh, are you sure?”

You laugh at his eagerness, nodding. “Of course. We can’t have you colliding into any other people here, can we?”

Seokmin flushes, but his irises are shimmering awfully mesmerisingly, and as he smiles at you, you can’t help but do anything but smile widely back.

You’re about to say something when there’s a shout of your name in the distance, and you look behind you to see two familiar figures, waving and calling for you to come over to them. 

“Y/N, dear, it’s getting late! We ought to go home now,” your mother calls, and your heart sinks.

Seokmin seems to hear them shout too, because he chuckles a little regretfully, face falling, and he looks so sad that your heart squeezes painfully. “I suppose you need to leave,” he says. “It’s a shame I won’t be able to have my much-needed skating lesson from you.”

You turn back to Seokmin. “Wait, Seokmin—”

Before you can say anything, he grasps your hand gently, his fingers unusually warm despite the freezing temperatures that you’re currently standing in. And then he leans down (carefully, this time) and kisses your knuckles again, feather light.

“I hope to see you around, Y/N,” he says, and begins to shuffle away.

He doesn’t get far before you glide over and grab his collar insistently, almost making him fall over yet again.

He doesn’t, though, because you’re holding tightly, bringing his face close to yours.

“Meet me again,” you say, almost pleading. “Will you—will you please come here again tomorrow? I know that it’s Christmas Day tomorrow, and you’ll be spending time with your family but do you think you could? I… want to see you again.”

Seokmin’s eyes widen, and his face is so close that you can see the way his eyelashes flutter slightly, warmth spreading across his cheeks.

“Besides,” you add, flushing yourself, “I still need to teach you how to not fall for anyone else.”

It makes Seokmin laugh, a bright, ringing sound that makes you feel oddly giddy, and his face is crinkling into the most beautiful smile as he nods, still laughing.

“Of course,” he says, that gorgeous smile lighting up his entire face. “Of course, I’ll meet you here. You can teach me to fall for you only.”

It makes you blush, but when Seokmin leans in, tilting his head and pressing a brief kiss to your cheek, it has you blushing even harder than you even thought possible, eyes widening as the pressure is there and then gone, replaced with Seokmin’s bright eyes and his bright smile and his bright voice, gradually moving further away.

“Tomorrow,” he promises as he begins to shuffle away again. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”

You watch him go, giving him a shy wave, before finally he disappears amongst the crowd of people. Heart beating unusually fast, you turn to go as well, and the ruddiness of your cheeks is not just from the cold.

Giddy, you think of Seokmin’s lips on your cheek and your knuckles, of his fingers holding yours.

It makes you smile. Looks like you have a Christmas date.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[lady-quen]

Hello Guild Wars 2 community! A new poll has dropped! 🐦‍⬛

(At least, hopefully new, lol.) I'm curious, which blessing did your Commander get on their first/canon go through the Raven Sanctum in the story mission "The Invitation?" Choose and tell me in the tags why they made their specific decisions :)

Compiled explanations from the wiki below for ease of access:

The trial choices in order:

Save the wounded man or save the healers

Save the spell tome or save the historical record

Save the queen or save the prince

Blessings:

Blessing of Daybreak

"When the fear of beastly claws and a child's pain is made sharp by the knowledge of elders, we make no mistakes. But do we grow?"

Healers -> historical record -> prince

Grace of Dawn

"When wisdom is favored in all things—a healing hand, a text of old, a beloved queen—we lose the sharpened sword of the truly bold."

Healers -> historical record -> queen

Consecration of Morning

"We seek to destroy monsters with sharp claws and icy breath, but do we protect ourselves from the beasts shaped like us, who prey on the young and vulnerable, who seek to rule us?"

Healers -> spell tome -> prince

Invocation of Midday

"When we flee from the things we fear most - the teeth of beasts, the storm of a dragon, a change of power-we risk running backward."

Healers -> spell tome -> queen

Supplication of Midday

"We favor the skill of healers and the wisdom of elders over the uncertainty of the future. But the young take chances, and the young push us forward."

Wounded man -> spell tome -> prince

Consecration of Evening

"We long for the comfort of a healing touch, an ancestral word of wisdom, a leader we know and trust. But comfort is fleeting, and with it comes inertia."

Wounded man -> historical record -> queen

Grace of Dusk

"We sacrifice so much—safety from the claws of death, knowledge of the ages, a steadfast reign—to propel ourselves forward. But if we move too fast, do we risk the inability to stop?"

Wounded man -> spell tome -> prince

Blessing of Twilight

"We try so hard to do the right thing. We heal, we protect our people, we preserve stability. But we cannot control how the winds of fate may shift, and a tight grip can sometimes hurt more than it helps."

Wounded man -> spell tome -> queen

[sysig]

Party (group) party (celebratory)! (Patreon)

[afterartist]

Is

Is hazbin hotel basically just the adult equivalent of Monster High??

[bramblebrine-art]

rook is my full caster elden ring pc. i have elden lord lore, but my fave version of him is as an npc.

artificial shadowbound of the black moon, is a nightfolk originally created by the eternal cities. when he was reborn as a tarnished, he was horrified to find that allegiance hadn't faded.

he fronts as a neutral scribe, observing and recording the change of the age, in actuality he is compelled to advance ranni's ambitions and is seeking an escape through miquella's experiments in thwarting outer gods. 

in the end, his autonomy is stripped, and through him the eternal cities finally gain their lord of night.

the npc version has him as the one who writes the item descriptions. your lord can save him from servitude to the eternal cities by finding the "rook doll". destroying it allows him to die as himself, but if you have miquella's golden needle you can insert it, sparing him and granting him free will.

idk if i'm set on it, but i think its kinda sad but kinda cool that as a lord, his only path is the doomed one. he can't escape without the help of strangers who may never involve themselves. the only way out for him is if you win instead.

[sporesgalaxy]

ok so you know how in my elaborate dp rewrite with silence alexander, that is constantly teetering on the edge of being its own thing, I wanted to add witches? <- hasnt talked about this in months. well good news I just solved witches

[gayangelcrimes]

hey. anyone ever think about 1x06 Skin. what if Dean died, but being in Dean's shape made something snap in the shifter's mind and it decided to take Dean's place for real. and it had absorbed enough of Dean's memories and personality that he was pretty much just Dean except Sam is more wary of him, at least for a while. (and John of course never notices that's not his real son.)

[eyes-of-nine]

posting them here like a proud parent putting drawings on the fridge LOOK AT MY CHILDREN AAAAAAA

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

You know I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel for extra credit in my assignments when I’m trying to pass-off my fursona as some kind of clever marketing strategy

[uncuteartist]

PLANNER. IS. GETTING. DONE. TODAY. GODDAMNIT.

And I'm starting the July/August one next week at latest. Not doing this bullshit again. If I want to change the format, I can do it for the September/October one.

Okay, Just typing that out is distressing. THE YEAR IS GOING TOO FAST.

[killuaisaprincess]

🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭

[jacks-wack-attack]

I literally just SCREAMED so loudly.

Dean is in the photo. Dean is in the FREAKING PHOTO.

Holy crap. What the hell. I think I just had a heart attack. I am hyperventilating

I need answers right now. Right. Now. 

Who do I need to sell my soul to, so I can get the answers? I will make a demon deal. Just give me ANSWERS

[capaldiera]

i gradually abandoned my young mulcahy secret relationship concept a while back bc the whole ends badly when they get found out thing was like.. no that's too much trauma for what im aiming for. like im not trying to give him life-changing ptsd from this he's got enough of that happening. but if it's a triple dog dare fast car twin sized mattress situation then that works

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I was looking for mikumas art so I could see it and found an amino post listing some stuff that they apparently include while drawing Fukase, including: point also has paw prints, Fukase's left eye Glows or is implied to, Fukase has a bigger version of point but they “Don't exactly look alive”, Fukase also apparently has a + symbol in his left eye? Oh and Point has a Point-sized hat to match Fukase's -🌟

oh yea!! almost all of these i've seen ya

here's the toe beans

i feel like the tiny vers of the hat has shown up in other illusts but i dont remember... here's one tho

and here's some closeups that show the plus in the eye... its kinda hard to see sometimes but it is there!

the eye appearing to glow might just be b/c of how mikuma uses contrast in their art, but i do love the idea of fukase's other eye glowing 👁️👁️💖

no idea abt the larger point though...

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Alt Rock to the Rescue

[Inspired by this art]

"...Alright, I might have an idea," John Constantine, who was seemingly busy texting someone for the past ten - or twenty, no one really counted - minutes, puts his phone away and snaps his head up.

The room falls silent. Superman blinks in surprise, Diana frowns slightly, and Batman's mouth is pressed into a thin, stubborn line. Flash recovers first.

"You have an idea?" He huffs a short, disbelieving laugh, "No offense, but I'm not sure a magic trick can help us against, you know, an alien fleet." He gestures to one of the screens on the wall, where said fleet is approaching Earth on live.

The rest of the Leaguers present don't exactly agree with him, at least not verbally, but the mood in the room shifts from tense, anxious alarm to an almost palpable annoyance. To be honest, no one was even sure why or how John Constantine of all people ended up in the meeting. It's not like JLD could actually help with an ongoing, massive invasion that was about to happen in less than three- Correction, less than two and a half hours. Besides, it's John Constantine. The man that never shows up unless outright bullied into submission.

The magician winces briefly and starts rummaging through his pockets under the weight of everyone's attention.

"I said I might," he amends gruffly, getting a cigarette out of one of his pockets and sticking it in his mouth but not lighting it. Seems like it wasn't what he was looking for, though, because after that, the man keeps going through the various places on his coat, patting himself down. "I know someone who can deal with it. Granted, I already owe him a great deal, but he won't say no," he pauses and grimaces, "At least I hope he won't."

"I do not think it would be wise to call upon gods in our situation," Diana tries carefully, but John pays her little mind.

"Or demons," Green Arrow adds, crossing his arms on his chest, "I'm not selling my soul to get rid of some rocket ships or whatever they are."

Now, that makes the magician bark a laugh. Or, maybe it's the piece of lime green paper - a sticky note, actually - that he finally finds in the depths of his pockets.

"Oh, your soul's gonna stay where it is."

"Constantine-" Batman starts, but John cuts him off instantly.

"Mine will stay wherever it is as well," he reassures the man, "It's not that kind of entity." And with that, he promptly sets the green note on fire - green fire - and uses it as a lighter for his cigarette.

The next moment after the note is reduced to ash, there's a shift in the air in front of him, and, before any of the heroes have a split second to react, there are two people floating in the middle of the room, backs pressed to each other.

Two teenagers, to be exact. A girl and a boy, both of them so pale that their skin looks gray, and both dressed in grunge, like they just came from a rock concert. Yet, that's where the 'normal' parts of their looks end - the boy's hair is so white it looks blinding, and moves in the air slowly, undeterred by gravity, and the girl's hair is neon blue, her ponytail flickering up like a flaming torch.

The boy nearly topples over as the girl leans her back on him harder and kicks her feet up slightly. The movement is awkward, like both of them were taken by surprise by the sudden relocation, and maybe the guess about the rock concert was not so far from reality; there are drumsticks in the boy's hands, and the girl is holding an electric guitar in her hands.

"The fuck?.." The boy asks no one in particular, as the girl makes an annoyed groan and straightens up, still floating in the air. Her guitar makes an aborted sound. Meanwhile, the boy's eyes land on Constantine, and his whole face scrunches in disgust, "John, for the love of Ancients, I was in the middle of something."

The girl takes a look around while her friend is busy expressing his annoyance and elbows him in the side, "Oi, look, it's the whole Comic Con in the flesh here."

Green Arrow sputters. Flash makes a wordless but very offended sound. The floating boy looks around, taking stock of faces in the room, and the disgust on his face morphs into exasperation.

He turns back to Constantine, "Really? I thought I told you I want no part in your furry parade."

"Alien invasion," the magician decidedly doesn't address any of that, instead pointing his finger to the screen behind him. "Thought you ought to know," he adds, a bit of sarcasm bleeding into his tone.

"Ooh, is it my turn to be your world saving buddy, Phantom?" The girl perks up, turning around and draping herself over the boy's shoulders with a giddy laugh. Her guitar shifts to hang in the air on her side all by itself.

The boy - Phantom - rolls his eyes. Bright green, glowing eyes that definitely don't belong to a human being.

"If I had a nickel every time I had to save the world, I'd probably be able to buy myself my own guitar," he grumbles and looks back to Constantine. "Do I, like, have to? Right now? You know, I don't get paid for this bullshit, and the studio we rented for rehearsal has an hourly rate, so if we can postpone this for about an hour and a half, that'd be real nice."

"The fleet is only two hours away from Earth," Batman supplies suddenly, and, when both floating kids turn to look at him, adds, "I can pay for your next rehearsal. Or a few of them." Evidently, Phantom's comment about nickels struck a nerve. Or, maybe, the man just likes throwing money at any teenager he encounters. Who knows.

The boy blinks, taken aback by the proposition. But the girl grins, sharp and wicked, and shoves her drummer - if the drumsticks are to tell - in the side again.

"Hey, free studio. Better than the last time."

That snaps Phantom out of his stupor, and he groans, "Don't remind me." With a weary sigh, he runs a hand through his hair and leans back in the air, almost like reclining on it. "Okay, fine, sure. Do you want them, like, away from Earth- um, this is Earth, right?" He turns to Superman, surprisingly, looking for confirmation, and the man nods, thrown off guard. The boy nods back and continues, "Or you want them blasted into oblivion, or what?"

"Whatever suits your mood, kid," John waves his hand at the screen as if making a welcoming gesture, "But all the aliens gotta go."

Unexpectedly, that makes the girl's grin even wider, and she reaches for her guitar, floating around Phantom and looking him in the face. The look she gives him speaks of mischief, and the boy seems to understand what she's implying before she as much as opens her mouth.

"Ember, no," he pounts a drumstick at her.

"Ember, yes," she wiggles her eyebrows, "Come on, your wail is boring as fuck as it is, why not spice it up?"

"I'm not wailing," Phantom scrunches his nose, "My throat will hurt for weeks."

Ember runs her fingers over the strings of her guitar, and it makes a comparatively quiet, vibrating sound. A few cords shoot out of the bottom of her instrument, like ones used to plug an electric guitar to an amp. She raises her eyebrows, still looking at Phantom, a silent conversation between them.

Then, the boy huffs and rolls his eyes, twirling a drumstick in his fingers.

"Fine."

The cords fly at him like snakes, aiming at his neck. None of the Leaguers watching the encounter get to say even a word as the metal pins insert themselves into the boy's neck, acting like some twisted kind of collar. Phantom doesn't even flinch.

Ember's guitar, on the other hand, reacts to the connection quite violently: it makes a high-pitched sound all on its own and then changes color from black and blue to white and green, with lightning bolts instead of flames for design. The girl's ponytail flares up higher as she softly murmurs in delight.

Then, she turns to the people around them and smirks, "Which way is the evil alien fleet?"

Flash wordlessly points his finger to the right and up. The girl nods in satisfaction, turning in the air so her guitar is facing that way.

"You might want to cover your ears," Phantom advises, a sly smile on his face and a glimmer of anticipation to his eyes. John Constantine follows that direction immediately, and, taking his move as the best course of action, the other heroes follow as well. Except Batman, who only narrows his eyes and looks at both teens in the air apprehensively. Phantom shrugs, "Or don't, I don't hold any responsibility for your shattered eardrums."

"Pick up where we left off, then," Ember tells him, and the boy blinks:

"Wait, I thought you'd just-"

[For some wholesome experience, put your headphones in and listen to 'KULT' by Jisaiah, grandson, and Steve Aoki]

But the girl has already started a tune, nodding her head to the rhythm of it and slowly picking up the pace. Phantom huffs, but doesn't protest any further, floating up as much as the cords allow him and spinning a drumstick in his hand.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

That the world's a fucking circus

That my life feels fucking worthless," he spits the words out with a sneer, slowly rotating in the air until he is hanging upside down. His eyes are closed, and his voice becomes more and more staticky with every new sound. The volume of Ember's guitar gets up, higher and higher, until the walls and the floor of the room around them start to vibrate.

Then, Ember's voice joins Phantom's, and the boy brings his drumsticks down on thin air, mimicking the moves. Only, even with the actual drums not there, the air around him ripples like they are, and they all can hear the beat.

"Maybe I should join a cult

At least they'll tell me it's not my fault

When it all comes crashing down

We'll see who's laughing," both kids pause, just for a beat, and Ember uses that split second to spin the volume knob to the max before strumming her guitar in one wide, sharp move.

"NOW!"

The sound wave is not only palpable, it's visible. A wave of toxic green ripples through the air, knocking everyone present - sans the two kids in the air - to the ground, and goes beyond. The screens on the walls flicker and turn off, sending sparks in the air, and the comms give off loud, screeching noises, and-

The following silence feels almost deafening.

Batman, unsurprisingly, is the first one to stand back on his feet and see a few of the screens come back online.

Just in time to see that same green wave of... sound? energy? power?.. decimate the entire fleet like a wet cloth over a chalkboard. One moment, the spaceships were there, and the next they are gone, wiped out of existence.

Ember laughs, leaning back and almost doing a backflip in the air.

"That was nice, dipshit!" She shoves Phantom in the shoulder, and the boy snorts, plucking the cords out of his skin and grinning.

"Yeah," he agrees with a smile, not even looking at the screens around, "Maybe we should try rehearsing in space next time. Sing to the stars and all that crap."

"Sing to the stars?" Ember raises her eyebrows mockingly as the rest of the heroes scramble to their feet, bemoaning their ringing ears. "Na-ah," she clicks her tongue and turns to Batman, "You still up for paying for our studio?"

The man just grunts in a semblance of affirmation.

"Sweet," the girl grins and offers Phantom a hand for a high five, which he returns instantly. "Cheers to the world being saved once again!"

The boy just rolls his eyes and turns to Constantine, "Next time, be a dear and text me before summoning, or I'm going to sell your soul to Morpheus, and who knows what he'll do with you."

John Constantine grimaces. "I did," he offers grudgingly.

But both unearthly teenagers are already gone without a trace.

[Edit: I want everyone to know there's ART now!!!]

[suiana]

I've been thinking about women lately so imagine yandere! sugar mommy 🤤🤤🤤

because i love ceoxpeasant, imagine you're some broke ass barista selling coffees in a tiny coffee shop that's on the brink of closing down. you're living from paycheck to paycheck, scrimping by and skipping meals just to pay the ever rising rent of this capitalist world you live in.

suddenly, you feel the trajectory of your life change when an obviously rich, gorgeous and... very well endowed lady walks into your establishment and gives you 100 dollars for a simple black coffee.

"um here's your change-"

"you can keep it darling."

you were stunned, obviously not knowing what to do other than to awkwardly keep the money back into the cash register as you turn around to make her coffee.

that was until she spoke up.

"you look pathetic. be my sugar baby."

"???"

you drop the coffee beans at her words, staring wide-eyed as she looks you up and down. her expensive suit fitted against her body like it was made just for her, the shining patek watch that glistened under the dim lighting of the store... more importantly, the stern gaze she had and the slight smirk as she leaned towards you.

you had never felt so... naked before. and she wasn't even doing anything other than moving her eyes and stance! wait, did she just call you pathetic?

"hahaha... um, funny joke-"

"i'll pay for all your rent and groceries if you become my pet."

"meow."

and that was how you found yourself leaving your old trashy job and life behind.

you found out that this lady was actually a successful business owner and was older than you were. just a little bit :3

your life had done a complete 360 and you were swimming in riches, going to expensive restaurants as you allowed yourself to be spoiled rotten by your beloved sugar mommy.

sure, some of your friends slowly started to distance themselves from you and you were confused because you did nothing to offend them...

but your sugar mommy told you not to worry about it. not when you had her.

so you listened. you didn't know what it was about her (her money) but you felt this strange urge to just listen to what she said. if she asked you to bark? you'd bark. if she asked you to crawl on all fours? you'd crawl on all fours.

until she made this ridiculous request.

"marry me."

did she actually love you? what? you thought this was just a mutually beneficial relationship you two had! like, you please her and she throws money and riches at you?? why is she asking for-

"hahaha... um, no?"

"funny way of saying yes, my love."

she stares ta you, eyes burning into you soul as you nervously shift in front of her.

gyatt damn what were you supposed to do? you couldn't disagree now could you? as much as you didn't want to marry her- wait what is she doing? why is she grabbing your hand and placing a pen-

"I've grown exceptionally fond of you, my dear. my heart belongs to you."

wait wait wait, what is she doing?! is that marriage documents?! stop stop-

"just the thought of seeing you with others brings me immense discomfort. so much so that i physically feel ill, darling."

her voice is like honey, yet her actions feel like claws digging into your skin as she forces your signature onto the paper.

"i am afraid i cannot let you go."

oh no, what have you gotten yourself into?