#idk what i want it to look like all i know is it looks bad

[mariasont]

hey girlie, first of all absolutely adore all of your hotchie fics no one writes him as well as you do!! second of all i am dying to read bimbo!assistant! x hotch smuuuutt (only if ur comfortable, pls ignore if not!!) i feel like that would be the only time hotch would have her completely and utterly speechless (idk why but i literally cannot get hotch w a breeding kink out of my goddamn mind!!!!!!) anyways hope ur having a fab day, and thank u for feeding us over the last few days 😘

Space Between Distraction & Indulgence - A.H

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader want’s aaron’s attention. aaron wants to finish his case notes. too bad for him, you always get what you want

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit stuff going on here, fingering, p in v, no condom (bc we trust hotch is responsible but you shouldn’t be), dirty talk, hotch is a boob man sorry not sorry, after care with a side of psychoanalysis bc he can’t help himself

wc: 6k (got a little carried away my b)

a/n: thank u sm for requesting ugh!!!! u all r going to give me a god complex if you keep talking about how i write hotch LOLOL i love u sm hope u like the fic!!

Saturdays with Aaron had a way of making time feel like something slippery and golden, something you could almost touch before it vanished between your fingers. The mornings stretched long and languid, a lazy kind of indulgence that should have felt endless, but somehow, with him, it never was.

You woke up late. Very late. The kind of late that made you blink at the clock in mild disbelief before flopping back against the pillows. And then there was the warmth. Not just the heat of the blankets, but something deeper, something winding low in your belly.

Oh. Right. The dream. You swallowed, biting your lip as if that might make the memory dissipate. It wasn't outright filthy, but it had been suggestive enough. Annoying. Frustrating. Embarrassing. It was the kind of thing that made you wish Aaron was still in bed.

He wasn't, of course. That would require Aaron Hotchner to do something reckless and irresponsible, like relax. If he wasn't keeping the country from total collapse, he was finding something equally as urgent to fix, probably buried in reports right now, coffee in hand, eyes scanning the page like national security depended on it. And maybe it did. You didn't know.

What you did know was that you'd been circling him all afternoon, orbiting like some needy little planet trapped in his gravitational pull, and he still hadn't acknowledged you. A small part of you—one you didn't want to name—had hoped he'd notice you by now. That he'd glance up, see you, reach for you. But he hadn't. And that was okay. Really. You weren't needy. You weren't desperate.

But you noticed him. You always noticed him. And this version of him, the weekend version, was particularly hard to ignore. The casual clothes, casual for him, anyway, stomped all over your ability to think straight (not that you had much to concentrate on in the first place).

The grey crewneck he had on stretched across his shoulders, molding to the shape of him like it had been made for him. His jeans, worn in all the right places, settled on his hips in a way that made you feel like a pervert just by looking.

Even his hair had you practically drooling. Not messy, of course—Aaron Hotchner didn't do messy—but it was softer than usual, a little mussed, like he'd dragged his fingers through it one too many times without bothering to fix it.

It made him look almost touchable, like someone who should have been stretched out next to you on the couch, letting you mess it up even more, not hunched over a pile of paperwork like the case files were going to disappear if he blinked.

His forearms flexed every time he turned a page, his muscles shifting subtly every time he moved. You didn't even realize how blatantly you were staring until his fingers skimmed up to his jaw, scratching absently at the stubble there. Because now all you could think about was how it would feel under your fingertips, under your lips, under—okay. Enough.

The magazine in your lap was technically open, fingers flipping through glossy pages filled with designer gowns and scandalous headlines. Normally, you'd be all over it, sipping coffee as you devoured the who wore what and who was caught with who. But today, you weren't really reading, you were just holding it, turning pages for the sake of it. Something to occupy your hands while you definitely didn't stare at Aaron.

He had started keeping these around after you mentioned, offhandedly, how much you loved them. You hadn't even meant it as a suggestion, but the next time you visited, there it was—sitting on the coffee table like it had always been there.

He hadn't spared you so much as a glance since you walked in—not even when you'd practically drifted past his desk, close enough that he should've felt you there. He had mumbled a good morning, sure, but his eyes never left the page, his attention locked onto whatever was in that file.

You sigh—loudly. Pointedly. The kind of exaggerated little huff that normally earns you at least a glance, maybe even a what's the matter, sweetheart?  There was no reaction today. He just flipped another page, one hand smoothing over the text, the other tapping against the desk like you were completely invisible.

You toss the magazine onto the table—just a little too hard. Then you stretch out on the couch, shifting just enough that his button-down rides up, baring more of your thighs than should be considered decent. The air against your skin makes you hyperaware of what isn't there—only your favorite panties. The tiniest scrap of fabric between you and absolute obscenity. If he so much as glanced in your direction, he'd have the perfect view. But he doesn't.

You sigh again, softer this time, just enough to sound absentminded, like you're not trying to get his attention (even though you absolutely are). As you push yourself off the couch, you stretch a little, giving yourself an extra moment to watch him. You make your way toward him, steps slow, letting the hem of his shirt brush against the tops of your thighs as you move. His fingers flex against the page.

You settle against the edge of his desk, bracing yourself on your elbows, making a very intentional point of pressing your tits together. It's the kind of thing that should be subtle—just a natural consequence of your posture.

Months of Aaron have taught you more than just the way he takes his coffee or how he organizes his files. You've studied him—memorized him even. And one thing has become crystal clear:

He's absolutely a boob man.

You realized it gradually—the subtle stiffening of his posture whenever you leaned a little too close in the office, the way his fingers flexed when your blouse had just a bit too much give.

Then, when you started dating, it became even clearer. His hands never just grabbed—they claimed, like he was making up for all the times he couldn't touch.

His voice would go low, reverent, when he murmured, so pretty, sweetheart, his thumb brushing over your skin like he needed to feel it. And your bras—he had thoughts about those, much to your surprise. Which ones were his favorite. Which ones he hated because they got in the way.

But it wasn't until months later—when he had you spread out beneath him, his mouth hot and urgent against your skin—that he admitted it. His voice was rough, breathless, his grip tightening as he groaned, been trying so fucking hard not to look at these for years. And then, just to prove it, his mouth sealed over you like he had years to make up for.

"Do you need anything? Water? Coffee? Maybe lunch?"

His eyes lift—quick, practiced, almost indifferent.

Almost.

Because before they settle back down, they pause, just for a fraction of a second, right there. Right at the collar of his button-down, where the top buttons are hanging loose, where your skin is warm and soft and practically begging for attention.

But then, before you can revel in it, he's already looking back down. "No, I'm fine, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, actually contemplating throwing his stupid case file out the window. He's either knows what you're trying to accomplish and ignoring you on purpose or he's just that focused. You weren't sure which was worse.

You shove off the desk, but you don't step away. Instead, you step closer. Your hands find his shoulders first, sliding down to his chest as you lean into him, pressing against his back. The shift is immediate. He goes still, his spine going ramrod straight, like his brain has just caught up to what's happening.

Your shirt is paper-thin, your nipples are pressed right against him, and unless he's suddenly gone completely numb, he feels it.

You sink against him, letting your chin rest on his shoulder, breathing him in. Gods, he smells good. Clean, sharp, like something expensive.

You recognized it as the cologne you bought him. The one you picked, the one you dabbed on his wrist in the middle of a department store and grinned, telling him, This. This smells like you. This is the one.

Your fingers skim over his collar, your nails just barely catching against the heat of his skin.

"What are you working on?" You let the question drip from your lips, your voice all honey, sweet, but not innocent.

Aaron hums low in his throat. "Case notes."

"That's boring. Is there anything I can do to help? Your assistant is very willing to be of service."

His fingers pause and your stomach flips. But then, before you can savor it, he moves. His hand finds yours, slow, gentle, lifting it with patience. He presses a kiss to your knuckles, featherlight, frustratingly chaste, before setting your hand back down like you're some good little thing that's been successfully pacified. And then you catch it, the tiniest twitch of his lips.

"Thank you, honey, but I've got it under control."

You make a noise, half scoff, half petulant whine, and shift your chin against his shoulder, angling yourself just enough to shoot him a pointed glare. "You always say that. What's the point of having such a capable assistant if you're not going to use her?"

"Hmm. So that's what you want? For me to use you?"

"I don't know. Is that an option?"

Aaron's laugh is low, the kind that rumbles through his chest without much warning. It's never loud—it doesn't have to be—but it still manages to send your stomach into a ridiculous free-fall.

"There's just some stuff I need to finish up."

You groan, letting your forehead drop to his shoulder, arms squeezing around him like you can physically hold his attention. Like you can will it away from the pages in front of him and back to you where it belongs.

"Is that your way of telling me I just have to sit here and be patient?"

Aaron's pen doesn't pause. "Mhm."

You huff. "And you think I'll be able to do that?"

His answer is immediate. Too immediate.

"You've survived this long," he says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I think you'll manage."

"Fine," you say after a moment, stepping around the chair before sinking into his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you, but he doesn't. He never does.

You shift until you're settled, one leg draped over his, chest brushing his. His breath stutters—just a little, just enough to tell you that he feels you. His fingers flex against the desk, pressing harder into the wood, tension rolling through his back as he goes perfectly still beneath you, like he's waiting to see what you'll do next.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you hum, arms draping easily over his shoulders as you sink against him. Your cheek brushes his, lips just close enough that if he turned his head, just a little, you'd be right there. "You said you had to finish working. Don't let me stop you."

A slow inhale, a slight tilt of his head, then—his pen moves again, like nothing's changed. Like you haven't changed anything. You exhale against his skin, hiding your smirk in the crook of his neck, fingers idly tracing slow, featherlight circles along the nape of it. He's humoring you, and that's fine.

You let him pretend for a while, content to exist in the space between distraction and indulgence. You shift in his lap, weight pressing into his just enough.

His body reacts before he does, muscles tightening, his breath slowing like he's thinking too hard about not reacting.

"Sit still."

"I am still," you reply, the words light on your tongue, but the slow curve of your hips tells another story.

"Sweetheart."

You lean in, close enough that your noses brush, your forehead pressing to his as your lips part ever so slightly. "What? I'm not doing anything."

Aaron's breath comes out sharp, ragged, the sound scraping its way from his throat like he's been holding onto it for too long. His chest pushes against yours, every inhale pressing you closer, every exhale heating the space between you. He leans back, just enough to create the smallest sliver of distance.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, savoring the friction that sends a shudder through you, tightening every muscle in your body with anticipation. The feeling sparks through you, sharp and intoxicating, sending heat pooling in your stomach. His reaction was subtle, the shift of his jaw, his hand brushing against the desk, like he doesn't trust himself to touch you yet.

His gaze drops, heavy-lidded, to where your bodies fit together, the rise and fall of your breath syncing with his.

His hands land on your hips, thumbs pressing in, not enough to stop you, just enough to remind you he could if he wanted to. When his eyes meet yours again, there's no rush, no immediate reaction. You knew exactly what it meant and what usually followed, he was just waiting for the moment you tip the scales too far.

"Do you want to tell me what exactly it is you're trying to do?" he asks, his voice low, the kind of tone that makes you forget your own name for a second.

You push against him again, grinding just enough to feel the press of him, the heat of him, and god. His fingers dig in—tight—like he's trying to stop you, but you don't miss the way his breath catches, the way his grip falters for half a second. Your fingers curl into his shirt, and suddenly, you can't remember what your original plan was.

You shift forward, your body molding to his, your breath fanning against his skin as your lips brush his ear. Your teeth scrape, light, but not accidental.

"I'm just feel a little... overlooked." Your fingers tighten where they rest, nails digging in just enough to make sure he feels it. "Is it so bad that I want your attention?"

His grip tightens, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips with a kind of warning you'd be stupid to ignore. The heat of his palms seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, scorching into your skin like a brand.

"You have my attention." You don't believe him. Not really. You press your lips into a pout, brow furrowing just slightly. "But if you keep moving like that, I might now be so nice about it."

Your hips shift, an instinctive little squirm, testing to see if you can push past his hold. You can't. "I can't help it."

"You can't help it?" he repeats, almost thoughtful, like he's turning the idea over in his mind. "I think you can. You just don't want to."

You want to argue, you really do, but nothing comes out, only a sharp inhale that never quite makes it into words. Because he's right. He knows he's right.

The little noise that escapes your throat is purely instinctual, frustrated but breathy, like your body is already conceding before your mind catches up.

"I told you to stop," he murmurs, but the way it sinks into you, the way it wraps around your ribs like something stretched too tight, tells you exactly what kind of trouble you're in.

He mirrors you, crowding in, his breath skimming your ear. His palm presses into the small of your back, slotting you back into place. "But you don't listen, do you?"

You shake your head without even meaning to, the deafening roar of your pulse making it impossible to think clearly.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower, turning darker, more intimate. His hands flex as if to remind you of the control he holds. Then his lips graze your jaw, his breath fanning over your skin. "You push. You test the boundaries. And then you pretend to be shocked when I hold you to them."

His fingers slide down, dragging over your thigh with an almost excruciating slowness. He pauses to squeeze there.

"First, you sprawled out on the couch—" his thumb sweeps over your skin, "like you didn't know exactly how that would look."

Your breath stutters, catches, knots itself into something tangled and messy as his hand moves, sliding higher, pressing firmer, stopping just shy of where the ache blooms.

His eyes darken, the heat behind them smoldering with something deep, something that settles like fire in the pit of your stomach.

"Then you leaned over my desk, practically shoving these—" His hand moves before the words fully land, cupping the curve of your breast. His thumb rolls over your nipple. "—right in my face."

Your breath catches, your hips lifting, your thighs parting like you're meant to be touched. Like you need him there. But he doesn't give in. He just moves lower, slow and taunting, until his palm covers the heat between your legs, pressing lightly over the thin fabric of your panties.

His fingers flex, testing. Feeling.

"And now this," he murmurs, and gods, his voice, his voice, is like a razor wrapped in velvet, smooth and cutting all at once. "You squirm and pout like you don't know exactly what you're doing. But I know better, don't I?"

The words settle in your spine, and suddenly, you don't feel like you know what you're doing. Like you're the one pulling at a thread you don't quite understand, but it's already too late to stop. A shiver rolls through you, bone-deep, leaving your muscles lax, your body melting into his like you were always meant to be here.

"I'm sorry," you murmur so quietly, you're not even sure if he hears it. "I just... I wanted you to notice me."

Aaron's hum is low, deep, almost amused. His thumb finds your jaw, sweeping along the curve of it as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I noticed you. I always notice you. In fact, you're all I ever notice." His hand slips away from where you want it most. "But if this is the only way you know how to ask for my attention, sweetheart, then I think we have a problem."

Your grip on his shirt is useless, you're clinging to him, to anything, but he's the one in control. His hands settle on your hips, demanding, guiding you over the hard line of his cock, forcing you to take the friction, to feel every inch of him through the layers still between you.

The friction is blinding, sending heat licking up your spine, setting every nerve in your body on fire. Your legs tremble, a sharp, choked sound escaping before you can stop it, and you clutch at his shoulders, nails sinking deep into muscle as pleasure coils tight and insistent in your belly.

"Aaron," his name slips from your lips, high and uneven, like it costs something to say it. Your head bows, forehead pressing into his shoulder, hands trembling against his chest. "I wasn't trying to be bad. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"No, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You didn't think, did you? And now look where that's gotten you."

His words should sting, but they don't, not when his hands are so gentle, smoothing down your spine like he's soothing something raw inside you. And then his voice, warm and promising, settles over you, "But I'll take care of you now."

And gods, you need him to. He's so hard, the thick length of him pressing against you through denim and cotton, teasing, tormenting. Everything burns—your skin, your stomach, that deep, pulsing ache between your thighs. Your head swims, feverish, your mind caught between more and please and I can't take this. But he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want to keep going, you'll take care of it. Go ahead."

Your hands move with the kind of urgency that betrays just how badly you need this, need him. Your fingers trail down, brushing over the tight muscles of his stomach, and it's almost enough to make you dizzy, just touching him, just knowing what's waiting for you beneath layers of fabric.

The button of his jeans fumbles beneath your fingers before finally popping open. And then you're pulling him free. He's thick in your hand, burning hot against your palm, and something about that, about feeling him like this, for you, makes something feral sink its teeth into you.

And then he finds you.

His fingers slip under your panties, gliding through the obscene slickness there, and you don't mean to react so violently, don't mean to moan so loud, but it rips out of you before you can stop it.

"Oh, honey," Aaron murmurs, almost thoughtful, like he's just now realizing the full extent of your undoing. "I didn't realize you'd gotten this worked up."

Like it's an observation. Like it's fascinating.

His fingers push, stretching you open, teasing just the right spot, and you jerk against him with a sharp, strangled moan. Your grip around him tightens, your strokes turning sloppy, uneven, desperate.

"Aaron—" His name tumbles out high and needy, your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

"I didn't mean to—" Your voice shakes, a hitched little gasp tangled between syllables. "I just—" Your breath stutters, heat climbing, overwhelming. "I didn't know what to do."

"You don't have to know what to do." His fingers slow just enough to let you catch his breath as he murmurs. "You just have to let me take over. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Your nod is frantic, almost mindless, as his words echo in your ears.

"Please." It falls from your lips like a confession, like you'd say anything if it means he'll give you what you want.

His fingers thrust deeper, and the shock of it rips a gasp from your lips, straight into his kiss. It's messy, frantic, all clashing mouths and stolen air, your breaths coming too fast to match his, like you're afraid if you let him go for even a second, he'll pull away.

Your grip on him tightens without thinking, your fingers flexing around his cock, but the sensation barely registers now, drowned out by the wetness pooling between your thighs, the slick drag of his fingers against your walls.

You can't keep up. You're chasing something that feels just out of reach, your hands leaving his cock, fumbling for something solid, something real. They find his face, fingertips brushing over the rough stubble of his jaw, trying to find yourself in him, in the way he's ruining you.

You kiss him like you can tell him everything that way, like he might understand the ache better through lips and tongues and the way your body trembles under his hands.

And then—he stops. His fingers slip free, and the sound you make is a whine, a protest, your hips tilting, seeking, trying to drag him back in. But he doesn't move, doesn't give you what you need, just smirks against your lips like he enjoys watching you squirm.

"You're so impatient," he murmurs against your lips.

But before you can protest, before you can tell him that yes, yes, you am impatient, please just give it to me, his hands tighten on your hips. And then—oh.

He lifts you, positioning you just right, and then, lowers you down.

The head of his cock pushes inside, and your breath catches, lips parting in a broken gasp. The stretch is devastating, inch by inch forcing your body to open, to yield to him. He's so deep, impossibly deep, and for a second, you forget how to breathe, how to think, your only thought being how does he even fit?

It feels endless, your thighs shaking against his as he takes his time, forcing you to feel every slow, torturous inch. Your body clenches around him, your nails dragging over his scalp as you bury your face against his neck.

"Breathe," he murmurs, voice thick, lips grazing your temple. "That's it. Let me take care of you. You just have to let me in, sweetheart."

"Okay, okay," you whisper, voice shaky as you bury your face against his neck, arms wrapping tighter around him.

His other hand moves, dragging up your spine before wrapping around your waist. And then—he presses deeper.

The air leaves your lungs in a sharp, punched-out gasp. He doesn't stop, doesn't let you breathe, just sinks in, stretching you open until he's fully seated inside you. Until there's nowhere left to go.

"That's it," he groans, voice tight, his mouth ghosting along your jaw. "So tight. So warm. Fuck, sweetheart, you know this is what you were made for, don't you?"

You try to think of something, something teasing, something bratty, something that might tip him over the edge, but your body betrays you, trembling around him, squeezing down so tight you feel him shudder.

"God, you're tight," he mutters, his fingers pressing into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. "I can feel every little tremble, every squeeze. You feel that, sweetheart? How perfectly you fit around me?"

"It's like you don't want to let me go. Is that what you want, honey? To keep me right here?"

Your body clenches down instinctively, like you're answering him without meaning to, and his breath catches for just a second before his lips curve against your skin. You nod, frantic, a little dazed, a little wrecked, and his chuckle is pure sin.

"Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back just enough to create the kind of unbearable friction that makes your breath catch, your body tightening like a bowstring.

"Every little sound you make drives me insane." His breath drags over your cheek, his lips just shy of touching, like he's teasing himself as much as he is you. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

You try to answer, you really do, but your lungs don't work properly anymore, your body focused on the pleasure threatening to snap at any second. Your fingertips tremble against his shoulders, your thighs quiver, and Aaron knows exactly what that means.

"That's it. I can feel you trembling, sweetheart. You're so close, aren't you?"

His words strike something deep, something primal, and the fire curling between your thighs roars in response. Your head tips back, your breath breaking apart as your hands scramble for purchase, fingers sliding to his face, thumbs brushing over the roughness of his jaw. You pull him into a kiss that's all hunger, all desperation, your lips parting to let him devour you.

He groans into your mouth, a sound that vibrates through your chest, and then his hips snap up into you. The stretch is suffocating, the sheer fullness of him sending sharp pulses of pleasure up your body with every deep thrust.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips. "You don't have to hold back. Just let go for me, sweetheart."

It crashes into you harder than you expected, knocking the breath straight from your lungs. Your moan catches halfway, tumbling out in pieces as your body convulses, clenches tight, gripping him in a way that makes him hiss through his teeth.

He thrusts deep, brutal, final, and then he's gone, his head dropping back as a groan tears from his chest.

He fills you in thick, pulsing waves, each pulse making your thighs tighten around him, making you gasp at how deep it settles. The feeling is overwhelming—the heat of him, the weight, the way his cock still twitches inside you, like he’s unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.

You're not sure where your body ends and his begins, your limbs heavy, useless, boneless as you slump against him. Your breath stutters, still uneven, every exhale pushing against his chest as the last waves of pleasure roll through you.

"You take every drop so fucking well," he murmurs. "Meant to keep you full."

His fingers press into your hips, just a little tighter, just enough to make you feel how deep he still is.

"Don’t move yet."

Your breath stutters, the words landing deep, something fluttering tight in your stomach.

"Just a little longer," he murmurs, his hands absently smoothing up and down your spine. His voice drops, lower, rougher—

"I want to make sure it sticks."

You shudder, pressing closer, your face tucking against his neck as everything—the fullness, every drop of his cum—settles in.

Aaron exhales, his chest rising beneath you, and suddenly, he shifts. His grip on your hips soften and slide up, like he can feel the way you're trembling against him. 

"Breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

You try, you really do, but when you inhale, it's a stuttering, gasping thing, barely controlled. Your thighs still shake, your body still throbs around him, and you can feel the way he exhales, like he enjoys this—enjoys feeling you like this, soft and trembling in his arms.

"Easy," he murmurs. One hand slides up your spine, cupping the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. "That was a lot."

You nod—or, at least, you think you do. Everything feels floaty, light, warm. Your head feels like it's filled with pink clouds. Your limbs feel soft, useless, like you're some well-loved doll that's been played with for hours.

He tilts your chin up, catching your gaze.

"You okay?" His brow furrows slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You blink slowly at him, lips parting, trying to focus.

"Mhm," you hum, then pause, frowning just slightly. "Wait, no—hold on."

His jaw tenses immediately, but you reach up, poking his cheek with a weak, clumsy finger.

"You didn't kiss me," you mumble, like it's the most important fact in the universe. "You're supposed to kiss me after, 'cause, like, you love me and all that."

Hotch lets out a slow breath, like he's holding something back. His head tilts, just barely shaking, like he's in mild disbelief of you. And okay, fine, maybe you do say a lot of dumb things. But this wasn't dumb. It was valid. It was scientifically proven that post-sex cuddles should include at least one (1) I love you and one (1) kiss, and you were simply holding him accountable.

"Of course I love you," he murmurs, like the answer is so obvious, so unquestionable, that it almost makes you feel silly for asking. And then he kisses you.

It's deep, drawn-out, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are. 

You're still in his lap, still tangled in the ridiculous, oversized leather chair, but you don't feel like you're anywhere. Not in his apartment, not even in your own body. Just floating, existing in between his lips and yours.

When you finally pull back, it's not even voluntary—just the sad, unfortunate reality of needing air.

"Wow," you murmur, your fingers lazily brushing over his jaw.

"Wow?"

"Mhm." Your tongue darts out, sweeping over the kiss-swollen curve of your bottom lip, like you're trying to catch what's left of him there, trying to savor it. "Like... I feel very wow."

A smirk tugs at his lips, but his hands don't stop moving, don't stop tracing, don't stop feeling. His fingers smoothed absently over your hips, up your spine, his palms blending into your skin. Like he's checking for something. Like he's making sure you're here with him.

And for a second, you think he's about to kiss you again. He looks like he wants to, his gaze flickers to your lips, his hands flex just slightly, his body leans in just a hair. But then his gaze flickers, his lips part slightly as if he'd just remembered something.

"You said something earlier."

You blink again, brain lagging behind slightly as reality creeps back in, still floating somewhere in bliss. Which you felt was a more pressing topic than whatever he's about to say.

Your face scrunches up immediately, like maybe if you look cute enough, he'd drop it. 

"I said a lot of things earlier," you rush out, voice a little too high, a little too hasty, your hand flapping vaguely in the air. "So many things. A real stream of nonsense, actually. I was just saying words, you know, as one does—"

You shift slightly, suddenly painfully aware of the position you're in, and he doesn't even blink.

"Aaron," you say, narrowing your eyes. "You're literally still inside me and you want to have a conversation right now?"

"Yes," he says simply, like of course he does, like this is completely reasonable, like you aren't still wrapped around him, skin warm and sticky from what you just did.

His brows furrow slightly, and his head tilts in that very specific way that means he's already pulling apart the words, unraveling them like a thread, and working through them with that brain of his before you can even begin to take it back. 

"You said you felt overlooked," he states plainly, like a fact, which you guessed it was. "If that was something you just said in the moment, we can drop it."

His eyes narrow, studying you like he already knows the answer. "But if you meant it, then I want to understand why."

Your mouth parts, ready to push out something easy, something light, something that won't lead to the very real, very terrifying act of actually admitting things.

He was serious. Not angry or annoyed. Just serious. And concerned.

You exhale, suddenly very invested in dragging your nails lightly over his chest, watching the way they disappear into the fabric of his shirt, how his muscles shift slightly beneath your touch.

"I mean... it's not a thing," you mumble, barely glancing up. "More like a thing-adjacent."

"Sweetheart." The firmness in his voice made your stomach flip. It's not a scolding or a warning, just his way of making you hear him. "I'm not interested in whether you think it's a thing or not. I'm interested in whether it's true."

"I mean, I guess... maybe a little."

His fingers flex, like he's taking that in. He nods once, slowly. "That makes sense."

Your brows furrow. "It does?"

"Yes," he states plainly, like it's obvious. "You pick up on subtle changes—even the ones I don't intend to project. And when I get hyper focused on something, I shut everything else out. Not just you. Everyone."

"It's a defense mechanism. A way to compartmentalize. It doesn't mean I don't notice you. It means my brain assigns the highest level of urgency to the task at hand, and everything else—everything outside of that—is temporarily shut out."

"When I do that, it makes sense that you would feel like I'm not paying attention to you," he continues. "Because in those moments I'm not."

Your breath catches. He says it so matter-of-factly, so plainly, that it almost doesn't sting at first, it just lands.

His grip tightens ever so slightly where his hands rest on your like he already knows how you're taking it.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to be paying attention," he murmurs, fingers brushing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. "It doesn't mean you don't exist in the back of my mind, even when I'm caught up in something else."

Aaron leans in a fraction, his eyes holding yours.

"Do you know what I did last night after you fell asleep?" he asks.

You blink. "Uh... sleep?"

He smirks. "Eventually. But first, I checked the thermostat. You always get cold at night, even when you say you won't."

Your face warms. "That's just—,"

"And before I left for work last week, I moved your car closer to the building because I saw you left your umbrella at my place."

"I—,"

"And when I'm out of town, do you know what I do every morning?"

You swallow.

"No."

"I think about what you're having for breakfast," he murmurs. "Not consciously. It's not something I try to do. It just... happens."

"You always eat something sweet," he continues, his thumb brushing over your jaw. "It's usually a pastry or something covered in chocolate. Sometimes cake, if we're being honest."

Your scrunch your nose again and he smiles.

"So, tell me," he murmurs, tilting your chin up. "Does that sound like someone who overlooks you?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Your heart aches—not the bad kind, but the kind that makes your chest feel too small for everything inside it. Because he's right. He notices everything. Not in the big, showy romance-movie ways but in the little things. In ways that matter.

You inhale a little too hard, blinking quickly, but the stinging in your eyes isn't going anywhere.

Aaron sees it immediately. "Sweetheart."

You shake your head quickly, sniffling.

"I'm not crying," you announce, even though your voice cracks on the last word, which kind of ruins the effect.

He smirks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you say firmly, poking his chest. "I just—I feel very loved and now I have to process that."

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Do you need time to process, or should I just assume you're going to be attached to me for the foreseeable future?"

Your smile is instant, automatic, the kind that takes over your whole face before you can even think about stopping it. Your arms tighten around his neck, fingers curling into his shirt like you have any intention of letting go.

"Oh no, you're definitely stuck with me," you declare. "Like, you might need to call someone if you ever actually want me to let go."

His smirk is instant. "You're saying I should alert the authorities?"

You nod sagely. "I mean, that would be the responsible thing to do. But by the time they arrive, I'll have already made a compelling argument about how you should just let it happen."

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you would."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11

taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

[fangel]

ohmygosh… you’ve done it (∩´﹏`∩)♡ my rambles ･⁀➴

i’d like to start with WHATTHEFUCKKK the concept alone is so good, so unique — I LIVE AND LOVE to find dark fics that are actually different from the ‘oh he’s a serial killer blah blah omg the nth scream slasher inspo blah blah’ NO GIVE ME PASSION, GIVE ME A MAN WHO IS TRULY LOST IN HIS WAYS W/ HIS MIND CRUMBLING IN ON ITSELF BC HES SO OBSESSED SO GONE !! GIVE ME REASON AS TO WHYYY HE IS A MESS !! you delivered that 🤍 !!

the way he has this dominance over her even without being there: picking out her clothes, specific preference to hair and makeup, surrounding her with his work--the dolls of her that can never quite be her no matter how hard he tries--aka the constant reminder of his afflicted obsession !!!! AHHH and she feels so has to maintain that perfection to keep his best interest to the point it's all she knows even tho disgusted !!!!

at first i was lowkey mad at him bc why are you spending all day trying to make a doll that looks like (me) her when the real thing is right at home !?!? but after reading i get it. he's just a sick fuck who is scared of the perfect love being gone one day. he's so desperate to hold onto the idea that he needs to preserve it, keep it forever. tbh.. #NeedThat level of obsession

okay ngl when she talks about the dolls and how they move and watch her etc i was like oh no she's gone schizo.. she's going crazy being cooped up at home with all those lookalike dolls -- BUT NO THEY'RE LIKE ACTUALLY MOVING ANDF SHIT?!?! wth and then i was like wait are they real people !? spirits !? THE HUMMING -- and then the missing girls that look like her on tv.. him being gone all the time.. okay i see you sunghoon. i know what you are

the dollhouse. just that. the dollhouse. how it depicts what's happening WOW ! such a cool twisted way to incorporate how she slowly puts things together. reminds me of until dawn with the dollhouse in the basement -- and more on the dolls, people or spirits whatever the hell, NO they are lil guardian angels trying to save her !! to warn her of what is really happening !!

the smut. HELLO???!/ the smut is a world in its own. absolutely insane but in a beautiful way. should i be scared? yeah, but i am Horny instead. break me apart !! mold me, shatter me, recreate me however you want just keeping fucking me with those glasses on dgasgfksgfa but fr... there's so much hidden tellings even in the smut. she's begging him to release that darkness he harbors onto her, telling him 'to do it' but doesn't realize the weight of her words and what's she's telling him to do. the way the darkness stirs in him, indirectly getting her permission to indulge on his twisted desires of having her as his REAL DOLL. crazy. all out of love they're both losing themselves yet getting what they want. (the audience stands and applauds)

"the experiment" and the dolls all being trial and error... fucking insane. i love everything about this so bad. his dedication.. his oath..

"Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. -- You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy."

⤷ LOVED THIS, i feel like this sets up the whole story right here.

It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart

⤷ the way that this is literal... at night in workshop with literal doll parts and in bed with her she's breaking apart under his hold. wow. also doll parts by hole mention !!

her in the beginning "These days, you just wanted to be." and then sunghoon in the end "It just is"

⤷ chefs kiss, perfect. idk what else needs to be said.

the concept reminds so much of an old rpg game called "mad father" i was OBSESSED with it when i was younger and you've allowed me to escape in a (loosely) similar world. ily for this

dear kipo, your attention to details and way of storytelling is so wonderous and amazing. you've captivated me in this horribly perfect lil world. such a fucked up, pretty story. you are so so talented!! i could dissect the whole story tbh but i need to stfu

one last thing hdfjakhfkas this is so long im sorry but PLEASE listen to this song. i've had the artist on repeat for like 2 weeks and this song reminds me of this story SOOSO MUCh pls tell me what you think >.<

anyways <3 i ate this tf up. ty for your service 🍽️ !!

THE DOLLMAKER ˒˒ 박성훈 ▸  𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲!

you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore.

pairing ⸝⸝ park sunghoon 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦!

genre ⋆ 📓 ⸝⸝ established relationship, angsty & mature themes, smut, some fluff, husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic vibes, supernatural elements

warnings ⸝⸝ dark content, heavy dubcon, dollification, mentions of murder and kidnapping, really creepy dolls, sunghoon is actually insane lmao, heavy gaslighting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, heavy body worship, slow sex to rough sex and back to soft sex (you’ll see), manhandling, handjob, cumshots, clit stimulation, fingering, brief somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, mentions of oral (f. rec), praise, petnames (my love, darling, doll), hair pulling (m. rec), cockwarming, a lot of skinship, teasing, brief nipple play, mentions of aftercare, they are very very codependent, traditional marriage aspects

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but it’s finally here!! my first post on my new blog (that’s not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier… hehe enjoy loves!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 14.8k ❩    ╱    ❨ 𝓶. list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.

And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. You’d ask for nothing more.

But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where you’d be set alight with how well you presented yourself—with how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.

In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoon’s watchful eye. You loved how he’d dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you in—frills and lace. Loved how he’d fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasn’t up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compare—his perfect creation.

Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as you’re growing to hate the idea, you just can’t let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You don’t know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, you’re too scared to find out what that life entails.

So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes it—and you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.

You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didn’t know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.

Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didn’t even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girl’s dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.

It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasn’t quite right. Sometimes he couldn’t accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.

“You’re too flawless,” Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.

You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. “I don’t think I’m flawless,” you smile at him, “I’m just as flawed as everyone else—just as human.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoon’s eyes that you knew all too well.

“You’re flawless to me,” he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He captured them with a certain roughness—the type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.

You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. “You’re my muse,” he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.

You suppose that being so perfect wasn’t so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off of you—if it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.

Maybe it wasn’t perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotion—an act of love.

Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. “Please,” you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. “Please,” you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.

Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. “So soft,” he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldn’t anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.

He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.

Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoon’s thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. “Perfect,” Sunghoon breathed out.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he did to you every night—left you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.

In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasn’t there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didn’t look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldn’t help but feel was mocking.

No matter how often it happened, you’ll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about it—the two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.

You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.

What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.

“We’re here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, ma’am?” you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.

A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didn’t realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from home—something he didn’t do as often anymore. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world—the most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.”

You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. “The news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.”

Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. “This has been—” You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girls—six missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girls’ image.

Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?

You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didn’t. 

Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.

The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! “Oh!” you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. “Oh no,” you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.

Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.

It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a moment—at yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? “Fine,” you say, smoothing out your dress, “I’ll play along.” You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.

You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dolls’ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.

At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didn’t touch. Sunghoon didn’t even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. You’ve never even seen the inside of it… until now.

There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than you’ve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.

In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldn’t even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room you’ve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didn’t even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.

Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. “I don’t understand,” you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. “What does this mean? What is that behind him?”

There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You weren’t sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.

Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that look—that inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, “Do you understand now?” You still weren’t sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoon’s humming still filled your ears and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to convey—you could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.

You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.

Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didn’t mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didn’t dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.

You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. “Eat up!” you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.

His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. “Thank you, darling…” he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re never so jumpy.”

You’d been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morning’s encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you should’ve known that nothing gets past your husband.

“It’s nothing,” you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. “I guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that you’re home.”

Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words coming out muffled. “I know I've been working more and more lately and I haven’t had much time for you.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “Can’t you work from home?” you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Like you used to? You work so much and you’re always gone. I miss you when you’re not here, and in return I’m sad the whole day.”

Sunghoon’s black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. “I don’t have all the tools here that I do at the shop,” Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. “But, I might be able to work from here tomorrow… I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?”

You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didn’t work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoon’s face even larger this time. “I suppose that’s okay,” you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Yeah?” You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. “I love that sound,” he says, holding you closer. “I want to hear it forever.” He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.

Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. “Eat,” you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didn’t let you get far. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Your dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,” Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. “Do what I said,” you scolded him.

Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.

When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. “Those missing girls…” you started, finally finding your voice, “on the news… Isn’t it odd that they favor me?” Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. “I-I mean… how they favor each other. And I favor them too, don’t you think?” you continue. You really hoped that you didn’t sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasn’t started to drive you mad and see things that aren’t there—that aren’t true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anything—no emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon,” you said in the gentlest whisper, “What if I’m next?”

“Missing girls?” Sunghoon says, “I’ve heard about them. But, don’t worry—” he reached over to caress your cheek “—I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “No one but me will ever touch you,” Sunghoon muttered against your hair.

His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.

Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didn’t get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?

You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didn’t want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with you—didn’t want to risk him thinking that you weren’t flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm… Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.

Him touching you wasn’t something new—he always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, it’s normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didn’t know what the dolls’ game was, but you didn’t like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. He’d never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.

Slowly, you began to drift off—your body getting heavier and heavier in his arms—and you let sleep overtake you.

A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.

You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. “Enough,” you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. “I don’t know what you all want from me.”

The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldn’t keep doing this.

You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didn’t even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.

Sunghoon wasn’t in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasn’t in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.

You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasn’t there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasn’t in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dolls’ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.

You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll inside—the grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.

Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.

That couldn’t be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoon’s doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.

After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard something—humming.

It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.

Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.

What if Sunghoon wasn’t even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was him—that the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasn’t in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.

More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you weren’t seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.

You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.

The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen over—Sunghoon’s hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.

Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?

He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. It’s big eyes bored into you.

Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.

You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldn’t worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.

You’d be upset and worried, yes, but he didn’t have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.

A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoon’s footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.

With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, “Why are you out of bed?”

Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.

You sat up more. “Well, I’m not tired anymore,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoon’s hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. “No?” he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.

Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t tired anymore?” Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.

Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, “Yes.”

Sunghoon’s fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Fuck…” he muttered lowly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to seeing this, and it’s all for me to admire.”

He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer view—just like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. “Entirely,” you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. “It will always be all for you—I’ll always be all, entirely yours.”

You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husband’s watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasn’t even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldn’t decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonight—which one always won.

You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husband’s love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, you’d do anything for it—to keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.

Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasn’t busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.

Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours. “Like my own, personal little doll,” he continued, his voice low. “The real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.”

His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. “How much,” he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, “I’d do for you? How I’d do anything?” Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoon’s gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. “Do you?” Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time you’d blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. “And I love you just as much. I’d do just as much.”

“No,” Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. “The way I love you, it’s… cavernous. Deep and dark—pitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.” His hand trailed down to your chin. “It consumes me, my love for you. I can’t control it… I can’t control the things I’d do to ensure you’ll always love me. And you will… won’t you? Always love me?” Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoon’s body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. “I’ll forever love you. There’s nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.”

Sunghoon’s body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. “Good…” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. “Because sometimes… The thought of you no longer loving me… i-it drives me completely insane.” His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoon’s lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.

He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. “It makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see it—see how much my love for you breaks me apart.” With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. “My sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.”

Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoon’s pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.

It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldn’t even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.

You guessed that you liked being used—liked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.

He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoon’s mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. “Taking everything I give you so well, my love. It’s like your body was made for mine.” Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. “Do you feel good, darling?”

Sunghoon’s hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and he let out a laugh. “Please,” you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, “please.”

He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. “Please, what?” he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. “What are you begging me to do to you?”

You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you would’ve thought you weren’t breathing at all—instead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. “Please,” you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.

“No, no, no!” you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoon’s own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. “I’ll continue once you can tell me—” his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length “—what you want.” Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when he’d move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.

“Tell me…” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didn’t give him an answer. Sunghoon’s hands laid flat against the back of your thighs—right next to where you needed him the most.

“I… I-I want you…” you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. “Closer…” Sunghoon says through a grunt, “but, I’m going to need more than that from you, my love. Don’t you want to be good for me and do what I asked?”

A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock… see your pretty face as you cum around it. Won’t you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?” Sunghoon continued.

How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it all—saw it all. Enough with holding back—like he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didn’t feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?

“Do it…” you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. “I w-want you… to do it.” Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasn’t using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoon’s head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.

Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. “Do what?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.

You didn’t have to say anything else. Sunghoon’s hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoon’s warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it all—hand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.

His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldn’t tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.

Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. “You like being my doll, don’t you?” Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. “Don’t you?” he asked a little louder when you didn’t answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.

His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. “You know,” he starts, his voice no longer so low, “you really are truly flawless, doll. My muse…”

Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, “It angers me how much I can’t capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thing—the real you. It makes me… so angry…”

He’s pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoon’s wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.

Sunghoon’s pace is brutal, and you’re suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didn’t care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoon’s wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.

“S-Slo—” you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so you’d feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldn’t think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himself—at you—like you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you would’ve thought that you’d be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely weren’t trying to be quiet in the slightest.

Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. “Forever my perfect little doll, to bend—” he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half “—and to break—” he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him “—and to put back together and play with as I please.”

“Sunghoon,” you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didn’t get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoon’s cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Pretty dolls don’t cry.”

Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. “I love you,” he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.

Your hands moved from Sunghoon’s shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. You’d give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.

Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoon’s lips pull into a smile, “I love you so much.” He said it like it was a confession.

Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motor’s limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.

His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoon’s cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoon’s cock. You were a mess.

Over and over, three words came from Sunghoon’s lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I—”

Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldn’t move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldn’t feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.

Sunghoon kissed you again. “Stay here,” he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. “Absolute perfection,” he said under his breath before standing to his feet.

You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.

You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didn’t start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.

Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. “I could fuck you all night…” he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, “and into the morning, too.” His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. “But then we wouldn’t have the full day together, would we, my love?”

You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoon’s slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.

His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadn’t been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snail’s pace against your walls. “Are you sore?” he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.

You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldn’t ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. “A little,” you say.

Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. “I’m sorry, my love,” he says and his lips meet yours again. “Let me make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.

His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. “I’ll be gentle,” Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.

Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongue—acidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.

If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then you’d forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.

Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didn’t have to work, but it still wasn’t enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didn’t help.

It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.

You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. “The search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.”

The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.

Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didn’t want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.

You recalled the way the door to the room opened—the pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.

You didn’t really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoon’s doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoon’s books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.

In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.

The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didn’t even really know what was in front of you… It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.

You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didn’t look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even further—it barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.

Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.

The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.

The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully hum—the sound off tune and terrifying—did your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly… it hummed Sunghoon’s melody, the one he hummed when he worked.

Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girls—the six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.

You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.

The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.

Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his “experiment.” It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didn’t want to believe it.

Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasn’t who he said he was—that he was a kidnapper, a killer.

You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. “No!” you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. “No, this is all a misunderstanding—a mistake! Sunghoon wouldn’t do this… He isn’t that type of person!” You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.

Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creation—Sunghoon’s experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.

The dollhouse.

It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you… it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasn’t just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craft—no. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice… He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.

Sunghoon’s words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” You finally understood it now.

Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. “I’m sorry,” you cried, unsure if it even heard you. “I’m so sorry.”

You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didn’t even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.

Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. “This is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?”

Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. “I… I-I think my husband kidnapped those girls…” you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.

“Something scare you, darling?” Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine.

You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didn’t even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.

Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.

He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.

Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. “I thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when I’m here.” His voice was still gentle—soft—and it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.

You voice shook, “Y-You kidnapped those girls, didn’t you? Turned them into… into…” Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everything—the dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. “Into… what?” Sunghoon asks.

“...Into me!” you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoon’s hand tightened around yours. “You killed them… and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?”

Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. “They aren’t dead!” he says. “And I swear to you that I’ll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as… reborn.”

You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldn’t let you go anywhere. “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Was all of this—” you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen “—just practice for the real thing?” you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoon’s hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.

“No!” Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. “No… can’t you see? This—” he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls “—is a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.”

“A-And that experiment of yours—the missing girls? Behind the wall?” you asked.

“That… is my dedication to you—m-my oath.” Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didn’t believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.

You didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that you’ve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didn’t let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldn’t tell which one of you was more terrified.

His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. “Come… Come with me…” he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. “Please,” he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. “You know I’d never do anything ever to hurt you.”

Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. “I know how it looks,” Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. “But there’s no pain, no sorrow, nothing.”

It didn’t try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didn’t hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. “It just is,” Sunghoon continued. “And when it’s fully done, and completely polished, it’ll be flawless.” He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. “Like you are.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.

His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air you’ll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt right—it felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you now—like he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didn’t hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.

When Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they?

Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoon’s lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.

You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoon’s muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.”

You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how you’re in different clothes and there’s a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.

Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. He’s wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. “Are you here, my love?” Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they look—shiny. There’s slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and they’re the same.

You look doll-like.

Once you’re steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how it’s styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoon’s face, his eyes meeting yours.

His eyes are shining—completely full of love and pride. You’ve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.

“Perfect.”

[ kipo’s note . . . ] would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately… like hehe yes i’ll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (๑´ω`๑)

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @fancypeacepersona @deobitifull @tinycatharsis @strawberryshoujosundae

© jjunbug - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media or sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ final island (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x reader

tw : fluff; suggestive, tiny tiny angst, jealousy love island coupling, mentions of other celebs as cast,

fc : Jung HoYeon

a/n : I REALLY HOPE Y’ALL LIKE THIS, THIS IS THE FINALE OF LOVE ISLAND

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by user1, user2 and 2,465,926 others

loveislanduk AND THEY WERE DUNKED ! EP IS OUT NOW !

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user1 BAHAHA JUDE GETTING DUMPED IN WATER

user2 when yn was asked to name the most attractive guy in the island and she didn’t even take a second to respond to lando’s name -

user3 the episode was just yn ignoring Jude for the 100th time

user4 shout out to Lando’s partner, she knows he is taken and is respectfully maintaining her distance

user5 Lando and her are so cute friends

user6 can’t believe instead of grafting, the girl is giving tips on how to sneak to meet yn-

user7 JUDE CANT EVEN GET Y/N’S FAVOURITE COLOUR WHILE LANDO HAS LITERALLY MEMORISED “Pantone 1617-TCX Burgundy”

user8 can’t believe the finale is here 😭

user9 I DONT WANT THIS TO END

user10 just propose already lando

liked by user1, user2 and 3,126,927 others

loveislanduk MOVIE NIGHT BEFORE THE FINAL RECOUPLING

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user1 LANDO ASKED YN TO BE HIS GIRLFRIEND

user2 WHILE SHE PAIRED WITH JUDE -

user3 now this is what I am paying my bills for

user4 SHE SAID YESSSS

user5 the look on the girls- they are all so happy for her

user6 judes sulking so much

user7 as he should !!

user8 but fr, the way jude has been cheating, thank God is was all shown in the video

user9 the girl talk on thong size-

user10 the embarrassed faces of the girls 🔝

liked by user1, user2 and 2,365,245 others

loveislanduk YN CHOSE LANDO !!

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user1 we are going to pretend it was a surprise?

user2 he literally asked her out

user3 the tears of joy of finally being together

user4 NO MORE JUDE

user5 the hug made me feel good lonely i am

user6 they make me believe reality shows aren't that bad

user7 i swear they are going to win

user8 as much as they might win, i think the other couple might win

user9 true, they didn't have much drama ( THANKS JUDE )

user10 well at least they are together!!!

liked by user1, user2 and 1,347,378 others

lando that 50k is going to the bachelor party

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user1 THEY WON

user2 I HAVE NEVER SEEN LANDO CRY SOO MUCH

user3 THEY WAY LANDO IMMEDIATELY Kept THE BALL, SAYING HE CHOSE YN OVER MONEY

charlesleclerc welcome to the paddock yn!!!

liked by lando

user4 NEW WAG IN THE HOUSE !!!

user5 it was all over too soon

user6 LANDO PLEASE BUY SHIRTS

user7 yn, please buy him shirts

user8 I swear I have forgotten the last time I saw him with a shirt

user9 their height difference is cute, idk why people not talk about it

user10 YN IS TALLER THAN LANDO 😭

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sojuyn 4 months with my number 4

comments on this post have been turned off

let me know if you want to be added or removed to the tg!

permanent tg: @isotopemylove @chair-things @justaf1girl @nichmeddar @bibblemiluvr @blushmimi @nikfigueiredo @amz824 @ivegotparticulartaste @raizelchrysanderoctavius @freyathehuntress @piastri-fvx @sadiemack9 @ilivbullyingjeongin @cherry-piee

fic tg: @sweate-r-weathe-r @jxnellat @loveofmylife12 @budgetcupid @lilaissa @scorpiodiosa @wondergirl101ks @nichmeddar @hoeforlifee @urfavnoirette @lily-ann-b @okcurran @miniboast

@teti-menchon0604 @motorsportloverf1 @formula1-motogpfan

[adieutristana]

hii! could i request the arcane women comforting reader on her period?

of course! thank you for the request <3

b2b by charli xcx on repeat yuuuup

summary; headcanons of the arcane women comforting their girlfriend on her period.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, maddie

tags/warnings; menstruation, fluff, comfort, suggestive (jinx's section), reader has hell periods, mentions of poor mental health, can't think of anything else honestly

minors and men dni.

jinx;

✧.* idk why, but i headcanon that jinx is one of those super lucky girls who has really light 3-4 day long periods. basically nothing at all.

✧.* so when you told her that your periods were long, and heavy, and painful, she was honestly taken aback. jinx was a bit puzzled as to how that's possible.

✧.* "but mine aren't that bad! are you suuure?"

✧.* she doesn't mean anything by it, she's just genuinely perplexed. sometimes it's difficult for jinx to put these kinds of things into perspective. however, the second she sees you doubled over in pain, clutching your stomach and whimpering in pain, her instincts kick in and she's rushing to your side.

✧.* "oh- oh, toots, are you okay?! what happened? why d'ya look so hurt?" she'd ask, crouching down next to you with panic evident in her voice.

✧.* "just... on my period," you'd strain. "nothing out of the ordinary. don't worry about me."

✧.* jinx absolutely will worry about you, though. she's by your side, asking you what you need. since her own periods are so mild, she doesn't know exactly where to start with this sort of thing. but she's doing her best.

✧.* she'll research! she finds out all about the cravings, mood swings, pains, and how to soothe all of those things. she nerds out when she gets to research anyways, but she'll go above and beyond to make sure her girl is comfortable and happy. as much as you can be during shark week, anyways.

✧.* the same day she finds you in pain, she's swiping things from shelves of pharmacies and convenience stores like no tomorrow. pain medicine, water bottles that she plans to heat up, chocolates, tubs of ice cream, blankets, lots of sanitary products. hell, she'll even burn a few dvds so the two of you can have movie nights. jinx doesn't do anything halfway, especially not something like this.

✧.* even more clingy than normal somehow. i imagine jinx runs pretty cold, but also has a lot of natural body heat, if that makes sense? she uses the guise of being your 'built-in heating pad,' though anyone can tell she just wants to be close to you and comfort you. she'll have both her arms and legs wrapped around you, nuzzling her face into the crook of your neck and peppering kisses along the soft skin.

✧.* "mm.. don't mind me, sugar. just wanna be here for 'ya, help you feel better 'n all that."

✧.* she's got such a sweet tooth, jinx might swipe a few of the snacks she stole for you while you're not looking... sorry. she can't help herself

✧.* will try to distract you to the best of her ability. movie nights as i said, as well as taking you around the streets of zaun (when you can manage to stand upright), gaming with you and purposely letting you win just so she can see your smile and hear your laugh.

✧.* along with the extra clingy thing, jinx will not let you out of your sight until she's absolutely sure that you're off your period. it's not that she doesn't think you can handle yourself, but she just worries so much. part of her knows it's irrational, but seeing you in so much pain eats at her inside, makes her afraid that she's going to lose you. even though it's just a natural part of your cycle

✧.* she's also read that other kinds of relief can be especially helpful for cramps, so you know jinx will be offering that to you if you know what i mean.

vi;

✧.* oh she's right there with you.

✧.* has the worst fucking periods known to man. it's like she's completely MIA as soon as it hits every month, she's just dead to the world. trust me, she understands.

✧.* which means that she can help you that much better! she knows firsthand what it's like and what works for her, but she also knows that it's not a one-size-fits-all situation. it'll take a bit of time, but vi knows what she's doing.

✧.* she's already got a stash of things lined up for you in her bathroom the day after you tell her you've gotten your period. panty liners, pads, tampons of different sizes. she doesn't even bother asking what you prefer to use, she just wants you to have the options depending on what you need at what time. only the best for her girl

✧.* fridge, freezer and cupboards are also full to the brim of your favorite snacks, the best medications. candies, chocolates, baked goods, ice cream, pain relief... all the good stuff.

✧.* don't even bother asking where she got all this stuff and how she could afford it, just let vi take care of you.

✧.* "shh, cupcake. that's for me to worry about. you sit your pretty self down and let me do all the hard work, 'kay?"

✧.* has heated blankets and water bottles ready for you at all times! the second she hears the slightest whimper of pain from you she's got the water bottle in her hand, instructing you to lean back so she can put it against your lower abdomen. she'll stay with you to make sure you're okay. she needs that reassurance both for you and herself.

✧.* vi is the type of lover who can't rest until she knows for sure that you're okay, regardless of how much you tell her that you're alright.

✧.* "i'm fine, baby. really, you don't need to worry about me." you'd say, though the way your face contorted in discomfort betrayed your words. "are you sure? you can't fool me, pretty. i know you're hurting. just let me help you. that's what i'm here for."

✧.* she also knows that insomnia comes with menstruation at times, so she'll make sure you sleep in her bed until you're off your period. holding you close, rubbing soothing circles over your back and stomach to help relieve some of the pain for you. don't worry about clinging to her, don't worry about how long it takes you to fall asleep or even the possibility of bleeding onto her sheets. vi just wants to make you feel comfortable, she'll take care of everything later.

✧.* doesn't let you do a damn thing for yourself. she almost treats you as if you're made of glass. it's not that thinks you're helpless, vi knows damn well just how fierce and independent you are. but she also enjoys taking care of you and knowing she's making your life easier.

✧.* "i'm on my period, not helpless." you'd protest, crossing your arms over your chest with a light pout. vi would chuckle to herself, playfully pinching one of your cheeks. "i know, i know. but i just wanna do this for you, okay? let me take care of you."

mel;

✧.* mel probably knows your cycle by heart after a certain amount of time being with you. not in a creepy way, but she's just that connected and attuned to you.

✧.* she'll come to you a few days before she knows you're due for your period, concern evident in her tone. "are you starting to cramp at all, dear?" she'd ask, or something along the lines of, "i know you're due soon. no discomfort? any cravings? you can tell me these things, darling."

✧.* she has a constant stash of things and she knows your preferences when it comes to hygiene products, snacks, medicine, all of your favorite comforts. she truly knows you like the back of your hand.

✧.* she'll be taking off work for you as well, as much as you protest and assure her that you're okay. realistically, mel knows sure and well that you're okay. but she still wants that time to be with you and make sure that you're comfortable and you're in as little pain as possible. it's more for her own peace of mind.

✧.* her own are honestly pretty moderate, not too bad but not exactly pleasant either. though again, she's attuned to your own senses and knows exactly what you need.

✧.* mel will be basically attached to you by the hip. she doesn't let you out of her sight for a second out of pure worry for you and your well-being. seeing you nauseous, craving the most odd foods, doubled over in pain, it hurts your girlfriend to even think about. she knows she can't outright prevent all of that, but it'll ease her mind to be there by your side.

✧.* mel doesn't insist that you take it easy, she knows that life goes on despite everything. she doesn't want to hover over you too much, but again, she'll be by your side. helping you run errands, walking you to and from work, watching from the sidelines as you do those little things that make you happy. painting, reading, writing... any of it.

✧.* it's a well-known fact that she loves to spoil you, so if you mention wanting anything at all, she won't even go out and buy it for you. she'll take you to the store with her and tell you to just buy whatever you'd like. no limits.

✧.* "anything at all, beautiful. let me treat you." "but mel, this is-" she'd shush you lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "too much? nonsense. i can handle it, you just tell me what you need. it pains me to see you so uncomfortable, regardless of how natural it is."

✧.* holding onto you so tightly, and you just know mel would give the best massages. literally anywhere that's sore, she'll massage for you with such love and care. her fingertips are a bit calloused and rough, but always so soft with you.

✧.* also runs you warm baths and even tosses in salts and flowers! they help her a lot when she's having period-related pains, so she hopes they'll have the same effect on you. she's happy to leave you to yourself, or sit near the edge of the tub and just talk to you. whatever would make you the most comfortable and happy.

sevika;

✧.* she's also got pretty mild periods, but she is very attuned to you and your senses. sevika can't exactly feel your pain and discomfort, though she knows how to ease it.

✧.* trust me when i say that she's got a good supply of things for you. all the sanitary products you could need, extra-strength pain medications, heated blankets, heat pads, snacks, the whole nine yards. uncomfortable and hurting? not on sevika's watch.

✧.* "just tell me what ya need, darlin'. you know i'll get it." she'd say, spooning you tightly while one hand rests over your lower stomach. you'd mumble light protests, but she wouldn't have it. "i know you're okay, babe. you tell me that enough. but i still wanna help, okay?"

✧.* so touchy and so clingy. sevika doesn't want to let go of you for a second, not if she can help it. whether that be holding you from behind while you move about the kitchen cooking, holding you close to her in bed, keeping an arm around your waist as you saunter around the lanes together, or brushing her lips against your forehead, she relishes that contact. especially when you're vulnerable like this.

✧.* she still has things to do. unfortunately, sevika's job isn't really one that she can take time off from, as much as she'd like to. but the second she gets off work, she's back home, by your side. your girlfriend is so loyal, so doting when it comes to you. a side of the usually gruff woman that's reserved exclusively for you.

✧.* she also won't hinder you from doing anything for yourself, the last thing she needs is for you to feel both excruciating pain and helplessness at the same time. however, sevika makes it clear that she's happy to take over whatever task you need if it gets to be too much.

✧.* you could be in the middle of a task when a cramp suddenly hits you, making you nearly fold in half and clutch at your stomach. "hey, what's wrong?" sevika would ask, cold metal against your shoulder. "cramps? come on, i'll take it from here. you go lay down."

✧.* do not worry about needing to ask for help with sevika. ever. she's more than happy to provide it for you, don't worry about asking for 'too much' or being 'too demanding.' you're her girlfriend, and you're on your period. there's no such thing as either of those with her.

✧.* "come on. you know whatever it is, i'll do it for you. so tell me," she'd pause, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow in that way she typically does, "what do you need, dove?"

✧.* also super attentive during sleep, would probably stay up just so that she can make sure you're okay and sleeping through the night. sevika is used to running on little to no sleep, thank her line of work. she'll try to keep it quiet, not let you know that she's observing, but she just worries. she wants to make sure you aren't suffering any bouts of insomnia. that, and seeing your peaceful expression during slumber is a plus.

caitlyn;

✧.* caitlyn gets it, she really does. one of piltover's strongest enforcers and officials, but struck down once a month by menstruation. something had to take her down a notch.

✧.* she knows exactly what'll help her, and she hopes it'll help you too. though she gives you options, since she knows you probably won't have all the same preferences as her when it comes to sanitary products, snacks, care, etc. cait will take her time so that she gets your routine down pat, before she eventually just has everything stocked in her home for when the time inevitably comes every month.

✧.* caitlyn is constantly checking in on you. she’ll ask you about every little thing, making sure that you’re not straining too hard, not in too much pain. you could be sitting on your bed, folding towels, and caitlyn would ask something like, “are you sure that’s not too much right now? if your back or stomach is hurting, i can take over.”

✧.* she’ll want to keep you at home with her on the days that are the hardest on you. the days where you’re groaning in pain, you can barely think straight from just how uncomfortable you are. when you’re an emotional mess from the mood swings and crying over a puppy you saw on the street. she wants to be there to comfort you and help you get back on your feet.

✧.* “shh… love, it’s fine. i know, that puppy was adorable.” you’d sniffle, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “can we get one, cait? please?” she’d chuckle quietly, letting out a heavy sigh. “maybe when i don’t have so much on my plate.”

✧.* she's on top of your every need. in pain? here's a bottle of painkillers. cravings? she's already got whatever you need. in the case that she doesn't, caitlyn is in the kitchen making something for you herself. she'll be damned if she lets her girlfriend go unsatisfied, especially on her period.

✧.* she'd be so doting especially when it comes to the pain, caitlyn wants to just hold you until all of the cramps are gone. realistically, she knows there's not much she can do besides offer a few over-the-counter methods. she's gonna have to wait until they run their course, but it doesn't make her want to cling to you any less. she wishes she could hold you and you'd feel the rest of the world melt away

✧.* "fuck, cait, it hurts," you'd whimper, clinging tight to the girl with your brows knitted together. she'd softly hush you, her one hand slipping under the fabric of your top to run soothing circles over your lower back. "i know, darling. i'm here, it'll be alright."

✧.* cait would run you warm baths as well, she's at your side the entire times. she'll throw in flower petals and salts, maybe even a bath bomb if it'll make you happy. not only will it help ease the pain, but making you feel cared for in this time is of the upmost importance to her. yes, you feel gross, but you don't have to! look at the nice bath she drew you! she'll even help wash you off if you need it, or she's happy to just stay by your side and talk to you as you soak.

maddie;

✧.* maddie's own are pretty moderate, but she has a cut-and-dry routine she's stuck to as a teenager. works like a charm every time her period rolls around, so she hopes those methods will work for you. though, if they don't, maddie will immediately stop and regroup.

✧.* maddie i don't think would be super in tune with everything.. i apologize. she'll connect the dots after she sees you hunched over in pain or with a bottle of painkillers in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other, but she won't be able to pick up on it right away like some others might.

✧.* but that doesn't make her any less good at comforting you, let's make that abundantly clear. as soon as she catches onto what's happening, she's basically waiting on you hand and foot. maddie is devoted!

✧.* now of course, she's a junior officer. maddie can't be by your side as often as she'd like to, unfortunately. she likes her job, but sometimes she curses it for holding her back from her girlfriend in times of need.

✧.* so she second she's allowed off the job, she's swinging the door open with a bag full of snacks to make her presence known. "i'm home, darlin'! where are ya?" she'd announce, glancing around the empty space before her eyes land on you. "oh, there you are. here, i brought these back! sorry, i know i was gone for a while, but i'm here now, yeah?"

✧.* however, you'll have to ask for a lot of what you need. maddie knows that you're independent and capable of helping yourself, so she doesn't want to assume unless she knows for sure that you're incapable of it because of pain or discomfort. that's one of the things she doesn't really budge on. if you're able to voice what's bothering you, she'll be more than happy to be of help!

✧.* also really, really good at distracting you. she'll put on movies, plug in cassettes of your favorite albums, talk to you for hours on end about nothing and everything simultaneously. maddie figures that if she can take your mind off of it, that's better than just waiting out the discomfort.

✧.* she kinda sucks at cooking. sorry.. but! she'd still make sure any cravings of yours are filled. freezer is packed to the brim with ice cream, and she's got lots of sugary treats for you in her cupboards. i also would imagine she lives basically smack in the middle of piltover, next to a lot of vendors and convenience stores. so on the off-chance she doesn't have something you need, she's already on her way to grab it for you.

✧.* "i'll be right back, okay? just running around the corner. rest assured."

✧.* also so cuddly especially when it comes to being in bed with you. she's already clingy, but you might have to pry her off of you when you're on your period. she hopes you wouldn't want to, though, not when she's got her legs wrapped around your waist and her head nestled into the warmth of your neck.

[organic-bloodbath]

Hiiiiiiii. Could you do a Salesman fic?

I would love to see one where his usual calm and powerful energy is lost around the reader, as he's just enamoured with her. Like no shame, he is down bad and the reader is just flustered and lowkey confused cause they haven't known each other for long.

Idk if this makes any sense to you (up to you if you make it smut i don't really mind)

Teach Ddakji to me

The Salesman x American!Reader

Summary: You play Ddakji with a man at a subway station, but the game brings you two much closer than either of you were prepared to.

A/N: I'm not sure how well i was able to follow the request of how he behaves around the reader but this is what i got ;-; hope you still like 🫶🏻 (i'm so deep in love with this psycho i've been giggling during every other paragraph)

♡♡

You rushed down the stairs in the subway station, only one minute until your train was going to leave. You weren't going to make it, but you had to try.

The doors were closing right in front of you and you wanted to scream and let out several different curses, but you didn't want to draw attention on yourself. Your day at the college lectures had just ended and all you wanted to do was to get home, have a dinner and rest.

You heard noise behind a corner, as if someone was slamming something on the floor. You went to see what was going on out of curiosity.

Two men were standing there, the other one tall and dressed in a grey suit, the other one a lot shorter and dressed in a simple hoodie and loose jeans, a worn out cap covering his messy black hair. Suddenly, the man in the suit slapped the other so hard on the face that the man's head turned to the right.

They slammed blue and red squares on top of each other over and over again, and it ended in the man in the suit slapping the other almost every time. Once in a while he handed to the man what looked like a bill of money. You had never seen anything like that happen anywhere and were confused.

You got a notification on your phone, a text message from your classmate.

"Join us for studying and then a dinner? A new restaurant opened nearby, we'll go and try it tonight," she messaged.

"Another day, i don't feel like going out tonight," you replied, getting a thumbs up emoji as a respond.

You put your phone in your pocket and turned around, almost having a heart attack and jumping a step back when you saw the man in the suit standing mere inches away from you, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

"Enjoyed the show, i hope?" he asked and your eyes widened. Fuck, he had noticed you stalking the two of them.

"Yea, um, sure," you said awkwardly. "Though i didn't know what it was, really."

Seeing his face now closer and him staring at you with his dark eyes made your heart beating faster and it wasn't only because of him scaring you for appearing out of nowhere. He was extremely handsome and the way he looked at you made you blush.

"You haven't heard of Ddakji?" he asked, but didn't seem surprised since he figured you weren't local by the looks of you. "It's a Korean game, want me to show you?"

"Sure," you said, nothing else to do than wait anyway. The man took the squares in his hands and offered you to choose one. You took the red one.

He explained the rules to you, it was simple. You only had to hit your square on the blue one and make it turn around, the upper side facing the floor.

It sounded simple but you were hesitant if you were actually able to do it. You threw it on the floor, aiming at the blue square, but it didn't move even an inch in any direction. You let out a frustrated groan.

"It's okay, very few people succeed on their first try," he said in a comforting tone and took a step closer to you, standing right in front of you. "But do you know what losing means to you, hm?"

You had a very good guess after seeing him and the other man play just a while ago.

"You're gonna slap me?" you asked with a grimace.

He smiled. Without a word, you felt a painful sting on your left cheek when he slapped you, not going any easier on you just because you were a woman.

"Jesus Christ!" you gasped and held your hand on your cheek which was definitely going to have a red mark later. You had never been slapped on your face and it hurt more than you thought it would hurt.

"My turn then," he said and grabbed his blue square from the floor. He slammed it on top of your red square and it immediately jumped in the air and landed on its other side on the floor.

He looked at you with the same smirk again.

"So what happens when you win?" you asked, crossing your arms. If you continued this game much longer, your face would be completely covered in bruises and you'd have a lot of explaining to do to your classmates.

"I get to use your body again," he said with a confident tone.

You closed your eyes and prepared for another slap, hoping that it would be the other one this time because your left cheek still hurt. When you felt a touch on your left cheek, you automatically winced a little bit.

But it wasn't a slap, it was a tender kiss. You opened your eyes when he had already leaned away and you saw a glimpse of kindness in his eyes this time. You felt your cheeks warming up and tried to avoid eye contact for a moment.

"Your turn," he said.

Your hand was shaking when you lifted the red square from the floor. You wanted to succeed, you had never been good at losing in anything, it was always about to start to piss you off if you didn't start winning too.

"Do you want me to help you?" he asked. You looked at him and soon he was right behind you, keeping an eye contact with you when he put his left hand on your waist and his right one to hold your hand which was holding the square. "Is this okay?"

He didn't put too much pressure on holding you, making sure that you gave him a permission for that. You suddenly couldn't get words out of your mouth, so you just nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat. He held you tighter now and instructed how it was supposed to be done. You had to have more force when you would slam the square down.

"Spread your legs a little bit," he whispered.

"What?" you gasped in shock.

"To get a better and more firm position when you throw it," he explained, his breath hot in your ear.

"Oh," you said, cheeks burning even more. You hadn't realized you were standing almost like a stick. He guided your hand up in the air in a correct position.

"Remember to let go of it at the correct moment, i'm going to aim it for you, okay?" he said and you nodded, now much more nervous than you would have been if you did this alone.

With this help, the blue square flew into the air and landed on its other side easily. You were excited of the victory, even though it was for his help, and a wide smile spread on your face.

To be honest, for a second you wished you would have failed on purpose, just to get his hands on you again - you didn't even care if it was a slap, kiss or something else.

He let go of you and you turned around to face him, already missing his touch.

"There you go," he said with a proud expression on his face. "Now, you can choose what to do to me."

You didn't hesitate for even a second longer, you immediately slapped him on his left cheek as hard as you could. However, you knew you didn't have as much as strength in your body as he did, so the slap must have stinged a lot less. His head didn't move even an inch and he only smiled.

Right then, the train you had been waiting for arrived and you took your bag from the ground. You weren't going to miss this train just because of wanting to have another round of Ddakji with this stranger.

He offered you money, worth of 100 dollars, and put them in your hand, closing your fist around the bill. You were about to refuse but he wasn't having it.

"Treat yourself a nice dinner tonight," he said. When you didn't answer, he nodded towards the train which was about to leave soon, with or without you.

"Thank you," you said. "Um, bye."

You made it into the train just in time and when you looked back at the spot where that man had just been, he was already gone.

♡♡

The salesman didn't want you to leave. He was absolutely mesmerized by you, you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. Your perfume and the smell of your shampoo still lingered in his nose, even after you weren't there anymore.

He would have wanted to ask you to stay, but he couldn't find the correct words and you were in a hurry to catch your train.

He hadn't felt like this of a woman in a long time and he wanted to find you again. To hold you again.

He didn't understand how you could have made this big of an impact on him in only under 10 minutes, but all he knew was that he needed to get to know you better.

♡♡

The next day, you arrived to the class and sat next to your friend.

"Oh my god, what happened to your face?" she gasped in shock.

Yes, there was a visible red mark on your cheek and you didn't have anything at home to cover it. You didn't really use any makeup either except mascara.

"Oh um," you started, trying to find some excuse. "It's my allergies and acne." You didn't have any allergies and hadn't had acne since you were 15. But you couldn't tell her the truth, atleast now that you didn't have time to talk much since the class was about to start.

And what were you going to say to her? A stranger in the subway station slapped you and you enjoyed it?

The teacher arrived and the noise of the door slamming closed interrupted your friend who was about to say something to interview you further.

♡♡

You walked down the subway station stairs again on your way home, just like yesterday. You had your headphones on, listening to random metal songs on Spotify and were texting your mum who catched up with you twice a week how you were doing. You were supposed to have a video call later today but she apparently had to work extra tonight, she was a nurse.

When you had reached the bottom of the stairs, you bumped into something and almost tripped back but managed to keep your balance. You looked up and saw the same man in the suit as yesterday, staring down at you with a smile.

"Hello," he greeted, not moving anywhere.

"Hello," you repeated and lifted your eyebrows, taking of your headphones. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," he said without thinking.

"Me? Why? How did you know i would be here?"

"I didn't. I only figured you might have the same daily routine and took a chance," he explained.

"Why did you want to see me?" you asked, confused but feeling butterflies in your stomach.

"I didn't have a chance to ask for your phone number yesterday," he said. "And i'd like to take you out."

"Take me out you mean murder or dinner?"

"The second option. I already finished the first task earlier," he said with a smile. Handsome and with a sense of humor.

"Fine, where did you plan to take me?"

"Anywhere you want. Are you hungry?"

"You don't even know my name," you pointed out.

"You can tell me your name and all about you on our date," he smiled.

"Aren't you straightforward," you chuckled. "Are you going to teach me Ddakji again?"

"If you wish so," he said.

You bit your lip, not sure if you should go somewhere with this stranger or not. You hadn't been asked for a dinner at a subway station before, though, so you could write it on your bucketlist and cross it out.

"Okay."

♡♡

He had taken you to a lovely dinner to enjoy local foods you had never eaten before. You rarely tried any new foods, always sticking on the ones you already knew you'd like, but now you had tried something different and loved it.

Now, you were in a park, nobody else in sight. It was already dark and you knew you had to go home soon if you wanted to get enough sleep.

You held the red square in your hand once again and aimed for slamming the blue around finally on your own.

Again, you weren't able to hit it. But you hadn't even tried properly and weren't mad about it.

"Damn it," you mumbled.

"You'll get there," he smirked, stepping closer to you.

He lifted your chin with his finger.

"Close your eyes."

You did as told and waited for the worst option, squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

You felt his lips press on yours, taking you into a slow kiss. He broke the kiss but didn't let go of your chin

"Do i have to play another round of Ddakji to do that again?"

You smiled and stepped on your tiptoes to reach him better, cupped his face and pulled him in a proper, deeper kiss. He instantly wrapped his arms around your waist to press your body against him tighter.

"Just so you know, i don't sleep with men on our first date," you said when the kiss was over, his hands wandering around your back they had almost reached your ass.

He moved his left hand to the back of your neck, keeping the right one on your lower back. He pushed his fingers through your hair, softly massaging your scalp.

"What is it about you that makes me so drawn to you?" he whispered, and you didn't know if the question was for you or just for himself. "Only two days and you've managed to make me absolutely addicted to you."

He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you felt blush creeping on its way to your cheeks.

He eventually walked you back home like a gentleman, not allowing you to walk anywhere at this hour. He had to make sure you got back home safely.

"Will i see you again tomorrow?" he asked before you managed to leave, gently holding your wrist.

"I have to study, i've fallen behind in couple of courses so i need to catch up," you said and his face fell a little bit. Surely he had other things to do in his life besides seeing you. "Are you free this weekend?"

His face lighted up again for your suggestion.

"For you, of course," he said and brought your hand towards his face, planting a kiss on your knuckles. "Goodnight, Y/N."

You went inside your apartment and silently closed the door, trying to do everything as quietly as you could, but then the lights were turned on.

"Okay who the HELL is that man, Y/N?!" your roommate shouted at you, making you jump and almost have a heart attack. It was so late you thought she was already sleeping, she was the type to be in bed by 8pm and asleep by 9pm.

"Um, well I-"

"That is the most gorgeous man i've ever seen," she said, still speaking loudly, and stepped closer to you and pointed you with her finger. "How couldn't you tell me you were dating a new man?"

"Well i only met him a while ago," you admitted.

"Still?!" she shouted. "You know i like boy talk and you never talk about your dating life! Oh my god, have you finally downloaded Tinder or something?"

"Ew, no," you shook your head.

"You're right, there's no way men THAT hot would still be on Tinder and not married," she said and then gasped. "Girl, he's not married, is he?"

"I sure hope he's not," you said and for a moment you were afraid he might be married. I mean, how could he still be single? Your friend always talked so much that you started to doubt everything you previously knew.

"Wait a minute, i'll get us some popcorn and then you're gonna spill everything," she said and without another word, she was already in the kitchen.

And you did tell her everything because my god you needed to talk to someone about him.

♡♡

A few days and several text conversations later, you were in his hotel room, and he pressed you against the wall, his right hand leaning on the wall right by your head.

He lifted your head by his forefinger on your chin to make you look straight into your eyes.

"How long are you going to stay in Korea?" he asked.

"What, are you going to ask me to move in with you or something? Plan a summer wedding?" you joked.

"If you want to," he said with a serious face and you truly wasn't sure if he was serious or joking. You hadn't yet found a difference between the two.

"Wait what?"

You hadn't dated any Korean men before so you weren't sure how fast they progressed in the dating life. Would it be normal to propose on the first week or ask to move in? Surely not.

He smiled. "I only ask because i don't want to have you only for a short while," he said and let his fingers wander around your shoulder, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"Well, i'll be here for atleast another 5 months," you told him and then pouted. "So, no summer wedding?"

"I'd have to buy a ring first," he smirked.

"It better be a real diamond too then," you chuckled, having seen the stacks of money he had carried with him, and pulled him into another kiss.

He was soon kissing your neck, leaving a mark on your skin, until your stomach growled and interrupted him.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "I thought you had eaten before you came here."

"Well, it's been a while i suppose," you said, not really remembering anymore when the last time was.

He stepped away from you and pulled out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"We're ordering food," he said. "What would you like to eat?"

He ordered Chinese food for you and ate it on the bed while watching some brainless comedy movie.

When the movie had ended, he went to the bathroom, leaving you to lay on the bed and making you to fall in your thoughts alone.

You had been in a relationship twice in your life, and in neither of them your relationship had moved on this fast. I mean, you weren't in an official relationship, you had been just barely hooking up, but the way he talked about you only knowing you for a few days wasn't something you had been used to at all.

In the U.S., it took guys several weeks to make any progress in relationships, atleast what you had seen and gone through.

Maybe you should slow down a little, take a step back and see what he really wants from you.

By the time he came back from the bathroom, you had fallen asleep. You looked so peaceful in your sleep, so beautiful even with your messy hair all over the pillow.

He came closer to you and pulled a blanket over you, the edge almost reaching your jaw. You stirred in your sleep, turning to lay on your side, but didn't show any signs of waking up.

He laid himself on the bed next to you and just looked at your sleeping figure for several minutes. He was afraid of getting attached to a woman so fast, in so little time, but he couldn't help it.

To him you were perfect, and he wanted to know everything about you that there was to know.

♡♡

A/N: If you want a part 2, please leave any requests you might have, i'm not sure where to go with this 🫶🏻❤️💙

[from-the-owls-nest]

mhm. what if you're too broken, in too tiny pieces, even the base too shattered to rebuild from. what if there's too little good left.

*swallow* that... that probably wasn't the most helpful answer. but I know what you mean. and I don't really have a fix or anything.

*drily, like, ironically* should probably clarify that the you in that first sentence meant me and just me. so. before you get any more ideas. because of course for Me that's Different! At least for my chaos brain tangles.

[ooc: Philosophy Below. idk brain ran away with thoughts call me if u find it /silly]

*silence, thinking over the words again* I don't know. All I can hope is that - that sentence from the movie Aria likes. When we can see no future, all we can do is the next right thing. the next little ray of sunlight. the next little moment of peace.

And if none of that is possible... Wait, and hold on, and look for them, and hope they come back soon. This is just my thoughts - my little agreement with myself. I gotta try the best I can, even if the best I can is a break from trying to recover. And then I'll know that Past Me did their best for me now and that I owe it to Future me to do my best for what they might become. Even if they weren't very successful. Like deciding that however I am right now is me too, and so I am all these things and parts, the good and the rough ones, and they all together make the full me. It's these nice little shortcut across the self blaming and infighting that take a long time to work out but help wherever they hold.

But like. I think I owe it my future self to hold on, and to get through the storms. Our past selves have come such a long way, and who knows where we'll go next, what our future selves and lives might be like. So like. I do think that new paths open up all the time, possibilities. Even if the ones now are all bad, who knows where we can still go. And the only way to find out is to try, and to do our best.

*they pull out their diary, and from the front a little calendar page* Look. I... It's one of these pages I'll keep forever and ever because I need the reminder, and give to others when they might need it. I don't know if it's right. I hope so. and I think the only way to find out is to try and hold on.

For me that's enough. That, little hopes, little good moments, even just the memory of warmth and hope and the knowledge that all that was once can come again - in different forms, maybe, but it can. *turning to lay it next to Will's sneaker*

*more silence* But. Well. That's really big thoughts, and hard to see when everything is so dark. Hm. okay just to throw some thoughts out. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to think about it, just... some ideas. Little windows into that maybe, whenever you're able to look.

what do the voices say? can they maybe be talked to, or be both a little right?

is there anything you wish wouldn't stop? or come back? any little thing. ignore realism and context all that. if you were playing make-believe, your own little world, what would it look like? if you want to we can take turns. I play that game regularly cause, well, bad memory, and i probably should start again.

and... does it have to be a *bad* hurt? like. yes. you're different. stuff happened, and it changed you, and that really really hurt. you might not be the same person as before. is that a bad thing? or, you said nasty. sure. right now it's raw and painful and doesnt fit yet. but... could all these little shards grow back together and become something scarred and mended, and different?

I hope they could. I'd really miss you - not you from before, you however you are right now and however you want to be. Idk doesn't make much sense but - people if they change are still that person, right? just... changed, by a situation or because they got to know themselves better or whatever. Like Butterflies. I'd like to see the next chapter, with you if you want or just knowing there was one for you.

Image Credit @thelatestkate and her website

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[hellsslibrary]

Mean! Rin bullying reader for their bad performance + pet play, reader has a collar on

You are absolutely disgusting. And people like you deserve absolutely nothing. At least until men start getting pregnant (quotes from God knows where day 2).

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : This was FUCKING awesome to write. What can I say... I love my bottoms cunty, you know.

!!Warnings: sub!gn!reader(because 'their'), reader's genitals and gender not specified so you can be anyone, dom!Rin (obvi), pet play, sex toys, blowjob, hair pulling, leash, kind of dacryphilia in your direction idk, humiliation from Rin, orgasm denial about eight unspoken times, foot humping......

"No. Don't you dare."

How many fucking times have you heard that come out of his mouth? How many times have you whined against his thigh when he stopped pressing his foot into where you needed it most? It was getting fucking unbearable every time he did it.

"R-rin... But it wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask with a slightly shaky voice and he just chuckles and grabs your hair, pushing his cock back down your throat, making you gag but obediently start swallowing it.

"It wasn't bad. It was horrible. And you need to learn your lesson about not doing that," Rin breathes out, looking at your pathetic face sucking on his cock and slightly tightens the leash on your neck, making you look up at him.

"Keep going, slut, maybe it'll get your brain back in place and make the rest of the grey matter work."

What the hell is he talking about? This is more likely to make you explode. Not only did he not let you cum, he didn't do it himself. And considering you've been sitting here for clearly more than half an hour, he clearly wants something from you, but what the hell? Besides the pleasure of you choking on tears and his cock, of course.

You carefully grab his hips, and when he doesn't show a negative reaction, you squeeze them, taking his cock all the way into your throat, trying to do it rhythmically, but it was obviously bad. Just disgusting. But you were enthusiastic, so it's forgivable, I guess.

"This isn't even half-baked. What the hell are you doing? Your melted brain doesn't even remember how to suck a dick?" Rin asks, pulling your leash incredibly hard, making you freeze with his cock in your throat, trying your best to breathe through your nose.

And then he pushes you away, making you gasp and look at him with half-open eyes, afraid of what else he might do, but he just raises his eyebrow and sits more comfortably on the edge of the bed.

You look at him confused, but then you look down at your underwear and well... You're just soaking wet. Not surprisingly, but still. Your cheeks flush and you whine as his foot presses there again, running up and down your crotch.

Your lips wrap around his cock again, causing him to gasp and grip the hair on your head. Your tongue slides along the length of it, tasting the salty pre-cum on its receptors. Your cheeks sink almost instinctively, adding to the stimulation, causing your own hips to move faster.

"Keep going. Make me come and I beg you," Itoshi whispers, seeming to take pity on you when he sees how disheveled you are. You sit back on your knees, sighing as his leg settles flat beneath you, allowing you to move as you please, rubbing your arousal against him.

Your hand reaches for his balls, twisting them between your fingers, eliciting a soft moan from Rin's lips. His hips buck, wanting to bury themselves even deeper into your mouth, and his back falls back onto the bed as he feels himself cumming in your mouth...

And you slowly pull away from his cock, realizing that you've been robbed of your orgasm. Again. You swallow some of his cum and spit the rest out, wiping your palm with a napkin and hovering over Rin.

"Are you okay?" you ask, running your hand down his cheek, and he slowly opens his eyes, looking at you and nodding after a few seconds, becoming aware of the world around him again.

"Yeah... Let's go shower," Rin replies, taking your collar off, letting it fall onto the bed with a loud thud, and then pushing you back and standing on the floor, looking at your disappointed face. "I'll finish you there, stop sulking."

Your eyes immediately brightened and you followed Rin, who was stroking his still slightly twitching thighs.

"You're acting like a dog," he whispers and rolls his eyes with a small smirk when he hears the fake and very exaggerated barking from you.

If I ever write a fanfic without something stupid, it won't be me, honestly.

[7-deadly-cats]

killing me softly (part one)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, very indirect subtle mention of sexual activities (no actual scenes), mention of drug usage (no actual scene)

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and y/n is paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if y/n wasn't awkward as hell and well ... if there wasn't her big fat crush on him.

word count: 2144

a/n: i haven't written this kind of stuff since like 8th grade (i recently graduated from university sooo yeah) but i kinda felt like it now and idk. there are so many smut involved fics on here (which isn't bad, i just need more softer slow burn stuff). not saying there won't be any smut in future parts hihihihi. also i have no clue how the american school system works (i'm from europe) so pls just accept this lol. and kelce's last name is statter bc apparently it was never mentioned in the show. anyway, this is for all my introverted and overthinking girlies (who may or may not be little freaks) <3

*****

Fuck my life.

That was the only thing on your mind as Mr. Smith announced the partners for the upcoming two-week art project. In pairs, you were supposed to create a reinterpretation of the Greek gods.

The assignment wasn’t the problem. In fact, it actually sounded kind of fun. But your partner? Yeah, that was the real issue.

Fucking Rafe Cameron.

Of all the people in this class, it had to be him. You didn’t even know why he'd chosen this class. Rafe was probably the last guy you’d expect to take an art elective—well, right after Kelce Statter.

He'd probably thought it was an easy class to boost his GPA. Rookie mistake.

Okay, whatever, it was just a small project. You could handle this.

NO, YOU COULDN’T, HOLY SHIT.

The thought of working with Rafe Cameron made your skin crawl. In all your years at Kildare Academy, you'd maybe exchanged two words with him—and that was only because he'd mistaken you for another girl.

"Y/N, right?" Rafe appeared at your desk at the end of class, a bored expression on his face.

Okay, okay, just act normal. Be nice. You nodded. "Yeah."

Rafe stared at you for a moment, like he was waiting for you to say more. His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he tilted his head. "Cool, okay. Let’s just meet up during lunch break and get this over with."

Did he seriously think you could finish a two-week project in one lunch break?

When he saw the look on your face, he raised his brows in amusement, his tone teasing. "What? You too busy?"

Your cheeks heated up as you shook your head. "No, lunch sounds good."

"Okay, then let’s meet after the fifth period." Before you could ask where you should meet him, he turned around and disappeared out of the classroom.

You frowned. This was off to a great start.

Just two weeks, you reminded yourself as you slung your bag over your shoulder and headed to math class.

On the way, you unlocked your phone to text your bestie Cara:

You shoved your phone away and tried to ignore the uneasiness creeping into your stomach.

You didn’t usually have trouble talking to guys but Rafe Cameron was a whole different story. Not because he was "too cool" or some dumb shit like that.

No, Rafe was just... intimidating. Not in that bad-boy, cringe Wattpad kind of way. It was something else, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

He wasn’t arrogant—he was proud. He was loud, but not in the annoying way Kelce Statton was. He wasn’t rude—he just said whatever the hell was on his mind.

He was just ... himself. And yet, somehow he wasn't. It felt like there was a lot more going on beneath the surface.

Maybe that was what made him so interesting to you. Sure, he had a nice face and a well-known name, no doubt about that. But more than anything, you wanted to know why he was the way he was.

Was he just a blunt person who didn’t give a fuck, or was there more to him than his looks and his last name?

So yeah, maybe a part of you was curious about him. But he had such an overwhelming presence, you wouldn’t even know where to start.

In the past, he'd had a few friends-with-benefits situations, but none of them had lasted long. And that was definitely a path you didn't want to go down. Under different circumstances, maybe you could but you've never even held hands with a guy, let alone kissed one or—yeah, no, not going there.

Okay, chill. Internally, you cursed Cara for fueling your delusions.

You had more important problems at right now anyway. Like math class with Mrs. Richman. And no one could claim you were a star student in that subject.

----

The lesson dragged on, your thoughts constantly drifting. After class, you were supposed to meet Rafe.

Rafe, who had PE right now.

Shit. You tried not to think about a sweaty, heavy-breathing, and—NOPE, NOT NOW.

"Okay, that’s it for today. Don’t forget about the math test next week. But for now, go enjoy the nice weather," Mrs. Richman announced, dismissing the class.

Your hands felt clammy as you got up to leave. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You headed to the restroom and washed your hands. Why were you so nervous about spending one lunch break with Rafe Cameron? Fuck you, social anxiety.

"Everything okay?" A soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. "You look kinda pale."

You turned to see the pretty face of Molly Crane. Red hair, cute freckles, and a super charming smile. She was one of the few Kooks (if any existed at all) who was genuinely nice.

You forced a smile. "Yeah, yeah, all good. I think I just ate something bad for breakfast."

Molly didn't look convinced. "You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Really, thanks, Molly. I’m fine now." With an awkward smile, you excused yourself and headed out—only to realize that, well… great, you and Rafe had never picked a meeting spot.

Brrrt.

Your phone had been buzzing since math class. Of course, it had been Cara.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and texted back.

Should you really wait in front of the gym? That felt weird af. But at the same time, you didn’t want to miss him and end up having an awkward conversation about it in the next art class.

The cafeteria would've been the most obvious meeting place, but would Rafe actually look for you there?

You pressed your lips together. Fuck it.

Heart pounding, you headed toward the gym.

Good thing your body totally knew how to distinguish between social interaction and actual danger.

When you arrived, you heard muffled voices of the boys inside, along with Coach Brown’s instructions.

Just breathe, it’s just one lunch break, you told yourself. Then again, this was probably how the next two weeks were going to feel.

You held your breath as the gym doors swung open, and a crowd of sweaty—oops wrong, freshly showered—boys streamed out.

You awkwardly stepped to the side, ignoring the curious glances thrown your way.

No sign of Rafe yet. A sick feeling settled in your stomach. Even worse than being here and having to explain HOW you knew that he would be here, would be explaining why you were standing there if he didn’t actually have PE right now.

But then relief washed over you when you spotted Kelce Statter and Topper Thornton. And right behind them—Rafe Cameron.

You tightened your grip on your bag. Okay, okay, I can do this. They’ll probably say bye to Rafe and leave for lunch now.

They didn’t. Great.

When Rafe saw you, something flickered in his gaze that you didn’t want to analyze. You expected him to just walk past you but instead, he headed straight toward you—with Kelce and Topper right behind him.

Just smile. No, not like that, you probably look like a creep. Oh god, okay.

"Hey," Rafe greeted you with a slightly puzzled smile as the three of them stopped in front of you. "I didn't expect you here."

In other words: Did you stalk me or how did you know I was here?

Kelce and Topper eyed you with amusement. This is so unbelievably embarrassing.

Blushing, you pointed at the gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Well, I saw you bringing a sports bag today, and PE is usually scheduled right before lunch ... so I just assumed you’d be here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kelce stifling a laugh. You wanted to disappear from Earth, no from this universe. No way anyone would believe--

"Right," Rafe replied with a lopsided grin. "I would’ve just waited in the cafeteria."

So you had been right. And you could've saved yourself this painfully awkward moment. G-r-e-a-t.

"Good thinking though. The faster we get this project over with, the better."

Shit, did Rafe just compliment you? Then again, why did the last sentence sound like he didn't want to work with you?

You smiled awkwardly. "Exactly."

"You're Y/N Y/L/N, right? Your mom owns Y/L/N Yacht Sales." Topper’s voice cut in, and you were grateful for the topic change.

You nodded. "Yeah."

Was that admiration on Topper’s face?

"Ohh, a business Mommy, I like that", Kelce said, and both Topper and Rafe eyed him with shaking heads.

Topper blinked at him annoyed. "Bro, shut the fuck up for once."

Kelce just laughed.

"My dad bought a Grady-White from you guys recently," Rafe remarked, and your gaze flicked back to his blue eyes.

Jesus, he wasn’t just looking at you—he was staring into your soul. If he was always looking at girls like that you'd gladly be his friends-with-benefits-girl.

You prayed to whatever gods were listening that you didn’t blush. "I remember. A 456 Canyon."

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitched up. "Yeah, a pretty model."

Your cheeks warmed, and either he didn’t notice, or he chose not to comment on it.

"Oh shit, that sounds like a boat party," Kelce chimed in with a grin and looked at you. "If I were you, I’d have thrown a dozen parties by now. So many possibilities…"

Rafe scoffed amused. "Good thing she isn’t, or her family would be broke by now."

You allowed yourself a small smirk.

„Hey, I’m just saying.“ Kelce raised his hands innocently.

Topper tapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. „Okay, dude, and I’m saying we’re leaving now before you say more stupid shit.“ Then he looked at you apologetically and turned his gaze to Rafe. „See you later.“

Rafe just gave him a short nod, his expression hard to read, before turning back to you with a tired smile as Kelce and Topper disappeared behind the gym. „So, you hungry?“

Why did this situation suddenly feel so… intimate? It wasn’t. Definitely not. There was absolutely no reason to feel weird about this. And yet—standing here alone with Rafe Cameron was… a lot. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—calm, focused, as if he was actually paying attention.

Or maybe it was the damn wet strands of hair falling into his forehead after his shower.

Get a grip.

You nodded quickly, trying not to overthink it. „The cafeteria has quinoa veggie bowls today. Or fries, if you’re not into influencer food.“

Oh God. Was that your attempt at being funny? Tragic.

Rafe’s lips twitched with amusement. „So, you’re assuming I don’t like quinoa bowls?“

Oh. Oh no.

Heat immediately rushed to your face, and you could feel your cheeks burning. Why the hell did you say that?

„No—I mean…“ You let out a nervous laugh, which sounded more like a weird cough. „Not that you wouldn’t like it, but you’re just more like—uh, not that I’m putting you in a box or anything, but you don’t seem like someone who… uh…“

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. „Someone who eats quinoa?“

You sighed. „Forget it. I’m just talking nonsense.“

„No, no, now I’m curious.“ His voice was amused, almost teasing. „How exactly do I seem?“

You swallowed. Shit.

„Uh…“ Your eyes flickered over him for a second—his broad shoulders, the damp strands of hair falling into his forehead, the fresh polo shirt fitting way too well against his body—oh God, wrong direction.

„I just meant…“ Maybe you should just stop talking and dig your own grave. You sighed and smiled awkwardly. „Okay, look, I'm sorry if you’re actually a secret quinoa veggie bowl advocate. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.“

Rafe laughed. Not in a mocking way—no, it was real, warm, which somehow made it worse because it only made you more nervous.

„No, no, I get it,“ he said, shrugging with an amused smile. „I guess I need to work out more if I’m giving off ‘fries guy’ vibes.“

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. „That’s not what—“

„Relax, I know what you meant.“ He cut you off, tilting his head toward the cafeteria. „Come on, you can keep judging me in there.“

I am the most embarrassing person alive, you thought, face still burning.

Still, you fell into step beside him, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter. Brain, could you please shut the hell up? Thanks.

It didn’t.

Because why did Rafe’s presence feel so overwhelming—in the best way possible? And why did his ridiculously good aftershave still linger in the air between you, like some kind of cruel distraction?

And most importantly—how the hell were you supposed to survive two whole weeks of this?

[genderqueerdykes]

I have PCOS and I’ve heard conflicting things about whether I can call myself intersex. I’ve seen people say that since it’s just a hormone thing, it’s not really intersex and since I wasn’t given surgeries as an infant about it, I’m not really intersex. I don’t want to step on people’s toes but I’ve also heard that since because I have hormone things that a majority of cis perisex women (I’m transmasc but all stuff online talks about cis women so) don’t have, I would be considered intersex. Sorry if this is weird, I’m just worried that if I started calling myself intersex, I’d be appropriating a label that doesn’t belong to me

PCOS is an interesex variation, you're all good! i also have PCOS :)

long winded ramble here but i haven't posted much about this before, and i have some thoughts

people who try to separate intersex variations between "hormonal" and "biological" conditions are gate keeping. that's another needless binary- many, many intersex conditions affect hormones in specific. you do not have to have mixed or ambiguous genitals to be intersex. hormone imbalances are more than enough. people who think that there's a difference between "hormonal" and "biological" intersex variations don't know what the word "biological" means, so you're free to disregard conversations like that

a lot of people are very misogynistic & intersexist and think that because there are women who pass and don't show any signs of their PCOS outwardly that they're "basically" or "just" perisex women. it really just comes down to misogyny and for some reason. idk i've met people who are... jealous of intersex people ? i used to know someone who was SO upset that they weren't intersex that they would go on long rants about how THEY should be able to call themselves intersex but not perisex women who "pass as perisex" because those people are "just perisex women and not real intersex people".

the ENTIRE REASON THIS PERSON WAS BEHAVING THIS WAY was because they wanted to call themselves a hermaphrodite. that was it. they wanted to use a slur they couldn't reclaim and were so fucking upset about it that they would bitch and moan about how a perisex cis woman with an internal teste who doesn't "LOOK" intersex shouldn't be able to call themselves intersex, but they should be able to do it because they "LOOK INTERSEX". like absolutely fucking unreal

like let's be real, this specific behavior is about misogyny, NOT caring about intersex people or furthering our rights & acceptance. people getting butthurt over PCOS being considered an intersex variation are raging misogynists & intersexists and its time we called it out. you can be intersexist if you're intersex. we are not immune.

like i've seriously seen people get so fucking upset that they can't use the term intersex for themselves that they take it out on other people. i've seen people who want to call themselves hermaphrodites so bad that they'll literally mock and harass intersex women who don't "look" intersex. it's disgusting. idk why people think intersex is like this Cool Exclusive Club but it's not. you're not stepping on anyone's toes by identifying as intersex if you have PCOS, a literal intersex condition, don't worry! OTHER PEOPLE are stepping on YOUR toes. you are intersex. i'm glad you took the time to ask! i just want to let you know that you do not have to take people's shit over this. PCOS is an intersex variation. people gotta learn to cope.

[ladybracknellssherry]

I’m kinda bummed at myself and it’s been bothering me that maybe it seems like I cared more about their interpretation of the media instead of how they interacted with people.

And it’s just been rolling around in my head for days.

What I really wanted to convey was that based on how they interpreted the media - always coming in with really rigid and really negative hot takes…seeming to use their hot takes interpretations of the media to express very thinly veiled problematic general views…and how they worded them and responded to anyone who responded with any amount of disagreement… maybe because I already knew about the shit-server it gave me that context to really see those things for what they were. But idk if that context should have been necessary. And these negative comments and overt bullying and vitriol at people with different opinions… as well as some high high amounts of self aggrandizement and this attitude that apparently seemed to some as just being “strong” or “confident” read to me like some pretty hostile narcissism.

So looking at things like that, it had always been really distressing to me that other people didn’t seem to see it all for what it was. Like, those things were there on public display on their tumblr. Maybe not always as explicit as it was in their shit-server. But it was there.

So the media interpretations matter to me. I keep thinking about the time in a chat that I responded to someone talking about punk-rock and rockstar Crowley with “I HATE rockstar Crowley.” And it really upset some people. Someone asked why and I said I just don’t interpret his character as someone who would enjoy that sort of attention and life. And when it was pointed out to me how hostile that seemed, I immediately apologized to everyone. I apologized for using “hate” instead of a softer “I don’t like.” But you know what I didn’t do? I didn’t double down and not apologize. I didn’t say “I’m right and you’re wrong.” I didn’t make fun of the people who enjoy reading or writing that characterization/trope. I corrected myself with “BUT I understand we all interpret characters differently.”

And I’m not saying wow I’m a great person for that. I just think that’s a pretty basic decency appropriate response. And I still feel Bad for how I said it.

Which is decidedly NOT how moonyinpisces, saglaophons, and apparently vavoom-sorted react.

Okay. Even if I was just clearing that up for myself. I think I said it right this time.

reminder that good omens is a trans allegory before it’s a biblical one.

[boreal-sea]

okay sorry you don’t like the word Zionist I’ll come up with a new word and it’s weirdassbitch btw and guess whatZzz ummm yeah you fit the bill. I don’t know man 😭😭😭😭 the fact you’re only posting about gofundmes when it’s about Israeli hostages or only ever being like “okay yeah what’s happening to Palestinians is bad” in conjunction with “so about this anti semitism we’ve been having…” means you’re obviously biased you’re just biased and hey… hey holds your hand it’s okay ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ We can work through this… together *looks away shyly* also I’m like Jewish like by blood. I didn’t even have to convert sorry I’m laughing converts you’re valid but boreal I guess I’m just like…. Better than you at being Jewish? Idk btw and hey maybe the reason why antisemitism is rising is because you guys are all like yeah so we deserve Israel because we lived there 1000000 years ago and if you hate Israel you’re anti Jewish soooo yeah…. Yep maybe having being Jewish synonymous with a genocidal state isn’t smart idk just my thoughts. I think having Jews live all across the world is so beautiful it brings a tear to my eye… I think shoving us all in one place is gay as hell to be frank. Whwtagevrr. I was born in USA born and raised and my family came from Ukraine. I have zero claim to a plot of land 6000 miles away just because I wanna have a sick ass vacation home. maybe that’s why you converted I’m just joshing around it would be funny though if you went through all that just to build a cute little Resort on stolen land. I don’t know boreal. I think I’d just rather have my BLEGH :P, not a :•]

I have not posted a single gofundme for Israeli victims. I’m not sure why you’d make up that lie? Please feel free to look back in my blog as far as you’d like, you won’t find one. It’s even in my blog description that I do not reblog gofundme posts.

I do post links to organizations that directly help Palestinians in Gaza. I have done so fairly often. I don’t recall ever posting a link to aid organizations that only benefit Israelis.

Do I often talk about antisemitism and Gaza at the same time? Yes. These two things are inextricably linked. What is happening in Gaza right now wouldn’t be happening without antisemitism.

Am I biased? No more than the average human being on Earth. I personally consider the folks screaming “Death to Israel!” to be a lot more biased than myself, as I am simply calling for peace between Israel and Hamas. I wanted a peaceful solution from the beginning. You can even find posts on my blog right after Oct 7th where I compare Israel to the USA after 9/11 and state my fears that Israel will have a disproportionate reaction. I loathe the political posturing of both Netanyahu and Hamas and I hate that they both dragged this out so long. Netanyahu wanted this to look like Trump’s victory, which disgusts me. And Hamas allowed their people to suffer for over a year! They’re disgusting, too. Every leader involved in this conflict failed their people.

Our personal feelings about whether or not native people like the Jews “deserve” to live in their homeland is irrelevant — Israel as a country exists here and now. Though it does bring up the interesting question: do you think if the USA just waits long enough, native Americans will also lose their landback rights? How long will that take?

Jews don’t really live “all over the world”. Nearly half live in the USA, and the other half in Israel. This is because all the other countries were so violently antisemitic to the Jews living there the Jews had to flee. In fact, after Israel was founded, a lot of countries literally forced their Jews out under threat of death.

Jews still suffer from antisemitism all around the world, and did so even before Oct 7th. The increase in antisemitism since Oct 7th hasn’t exactly made diaspora Jews feel safe. “A country you’re not even a citizen of did a bad thing, so now I’m going to firebomb your elementary school” isn’t fertile ground for cooperation, is it?

I don’t agree with everything Israel has done. I don’t have to. I think it is a country in crisis that needs major reforms, much like the USA. But I don’t scream “death to America!” either. I live here. I want to make it a better place. I want them both to be better, to live up to the ideals they espouse. To be free, and safe, and prosperous.

I want Gazans to be able to go home. I want them free from the cruelty of Hamas, which has allowed its people to die and suffer since it took power in 2005 and refused to hold any more free elections. They are tyrants. I want Palestinians in the diaspora to come home, too. I want them to have a safe, prosperous country where their culture and children can flourish!

I want peace. If that makes me a “weirdassbitch”, then so be it. I’ve been weird my whole life, anon!

[acynicalsweetheart]

Dad Jimmy and daughter reader sitting in his lap at a family gathering (like a holiday or smth idk) while she tries not to draw attention to him (not so) subtlety groping her and grinding on her under the blanket. By the time he finishes, he thinks he got away with it without his daughter or anyone else noticing..😇

hai made it curly’s family gathering cause jimmy’s family is dead or deadbeat to me… omfg somebody lynch me i am so bad at following requests sorry. i did NOT see the part ab daughter reader not noticing gosh. anyway… very new to writing jimmy so it kind of really sucks.. read cws!!

content warning: 18+, dead dove do not eat, daddy-daughter incest, non/dub-con, etc etc

“Would you look at that? The couch is all full!” Curly exclaims like he is a fucking sitcom character. Kind of how it goes when he tries to make a joke. Painfully unfunny, that is. His family members sit there like lobotomees, squeezing out half-aborted chuckles.

Jimmy plays along just to spite you.

“Too bad,” he pats your cheek twice—hard, “looks like you’ll have to sit on daddy’s lap tonight.” 

The way the color instantly drains from your face is too good, looking ghastly within a matter of seconds. Curly’s entire family be damned, his fourtieth-something birthday be damned, Jimmy feels like fucking the life back into your corpse.

Right here and now, ideally. He has no clue where that thought came from but it’s welcomed. 

“I’m sure there’s… a spare chair or something I can use.” You look around frantically, eyes scanning the living room like Jimmy having you in his lap is a fate worse than death. They land on your savior. “Right, Uncle Curly?” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Curly offers you a quick glance, finishes setting up a shitty movie he for some very peculiar fucking reason wants to watch with his family and Jimmy, to celebrate his midlife crisis milestone. 

Uncle Curly likes you, sure, but he likes Jimmy better. Takes about half a brain cell to see that. 

Jimmy grunts when he pulls you onto his lap, partly ‘cause he’s nearing Curly’s age (old) and partly ‘cause his dick is already kicking up a fuss in his pants. 

He hopes you can feel it.

“Dad? What are you—what is that?” You whisper obnoxiously loud when he grips your hips, moving his own against your ass. “Oh my gosh, is that your—“

“Shut up.” He interrupts before you can finish your babbling, it’s like you want to get smacked. 

Jimmy doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just did it ‘cause he felt like it and now he’ll keep going. Wring every possible reaction out of you because goddamn this birthday party is fucking boring. Where is the booze? The real booze, not some pesky little pint of wine. Curly’s an alcoholic, isn’t he? 

“You’re so gross!” 

Gross? Jimmy hasn’t even fucking done anything yet. Typical stuck-up bitch you are. Like being within several feet of your vicinity is enough to warrant a restraining order against him, an anti-Jimmy movement of some sort. 

He’ll show you how gross he can really be. 

Arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from escaping, Jimmy fumbles with the blanket - purely ‘cause he doesn’t want Curly’s entire bloodline to see his dick - and heads for the zipper of his—

“Is everything okay over there?” Goldilocks interjects. 

You flail like a toddler two seconds away from drowning, teasing Jimmy by putting all that friction against his cock. “Dad’s trying to—“

Trying to what? Fuck you? Maybe. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jimmy pinches your cheek and you grimace. “Think it might be that time of the month for the little lady here, if you know what I mean.”

He hears one of Curly’s relatives snicker under their breath. 

Your mouth falls open, nearly gasping out of shock. “That’s—“ 

Jimmy knows exactly what you were going to say. That’s so not true! Dad, that’s so fucking mean and unfeminist and bla bla bla, patriarchy, oppression—

“Alright,” Curly’s turn to cut you off, speaking directly to Jimmy like he owns you. That’s right. “Just try to keep it down, yeah? Movie’s just started.” And that’s that. 

“Dirty fucking bitch,” Jimmy presses his mouth to your ear, talking directly into it to feel you squirm against him. “You want them to see, huh?”

“No…” Please. Your panties are probably soaked already, comes with being related to Jimmy—you’re all fucked up.

His hands slide up your bare thighs, feeling the skin prickling up underneath his touch. You kick your legs, nearly hitting some Curly 2.0 in the process. Jimmy keeps going till he finds your mound and he is right like always—you’re wet.

No time to waste, Jimmy creeps under your panties, shamelessly rubbing away at your sticky little pussy, the slickness mildly audible. You’re gripping his wrist so hard beneath the blanket that Jimmy’s surprised he can’t feel your nails break. 

“Dad,” it’s halfway a whine, halfway a whisper, “dad, stop.” 

You’re terribly quiet, not kicking up a big enough fuss for someone who seemingly wants him to stop. Jimmy sinks two of his fingers past your entrance, feeling you stiffen in his lap like you’ve never had anything up there before. Can’t be true, you’re sucking him in like a fucking vacuum cleaner. 

“No.” He picks up his pace, your cunt squelching around his fingers under the blanket, damn near talking louder than the actors in the movie. 

You struggle to contain your own noises, clamping down around his fingers already. 

“You wish it was my cock inside you.” Jimmy tells you matter-of-factly, nips at your earlobe. 

“Eww,” you whimper, a brat even when getting fucking molested. Who raised you? ‘Cause it sure wasn’t Jimmy. 

He doubles down, “you want Uncle Curly to see what dad’s doing to you?” You squeeze him tighter, cheek hot against his. Of course.

Or one of his sisters perhaps. He wants to say… Wavy? Maybe the old fuck casually hogging up two couch cushions that may or may not be Curly’s father. Jimmy should thank him, really, wouldn’t be feeling your pussy gripping onto his fingers for dear life if it wasn’t for him. 

“Quit acting like you didn’t want this,” Jimmy’s fingers find your spongy spot, hitting it over and over ‘cause he knows it’ll have you cumming around him. “You’ve just been aching for daddy to touch you here, haven’t you?” Is all it takes for you to snap. Dirty fucking slut.

The moans get stuck in your throat, teeth biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as you cum—soaking his fingers and his pants and Curly’s blanket. Jimmy doesn’t stop, grinning at your mortified expression. 

Jimmy pulls out with a sloppy squelch after you’ve come down from your incestual high. You’re still frozen, looking like that bitch from The Shining with your open, unblinking eyes and discombobulation plastered all over your face. 

One of Curly’s sisters, or his mother, shoots him a nasty glare. If she’s so disgusted by Jimmy now, she’d have a fucking heart attack if she saw the other guys at the trailer park. Jimmy may look like a hobo from time to time, nothing he doesn’t already know. Plastic whores and their plastic attitudes. They disgust him. 

Braindead freaks. Jimmy practically fucked his daughter right under their noses and they didn’t notice a thing. 

“Act up like that again and I’ll pull my cock out, stick it in your hole for everybody to see.” He wipes off your cum on your thighs, pulling his hands away to keep you wrapped up in his lap. “No blanket.” 

[i-dared-myself]

Skirt War

Requested by anonymous: Could I req a fic with the stray kids' ninth member being put in a short dress/skirt (you know those that don't look like it'll ride up if you move but it does and its annoying af??) for a performance with a dance dance - that she has to move around a lot and then she keeps trying to pull the skirt down but that piece of shit just keeps going back up. And she spends the whole performance playing tug of war with a bunch of fabric trying not to be indecent and humiliated. And backstage she feels shit bc she couldn’t dance well and looked pathetic and she's disappointed and frustrated and embarrassed and yk. Idk if this is understandable anymore

“Wow, Felix,” you say, “you look really good! The stylists worked really hard with this new set of outfits.”

Felix hums his agreement, adjusting his gloves. “Where’s yours?”

You glance down at yourself. You’re still in your normal clothes. “Ah, they haven’t called me back yet. I think they’re finishing with Seungmin now.”

Felix makes a small sound of understanding, reaching up to touch his hair. He stops himself and drags his hand back down to his side. “Should I dye my hair soon?”

You shrug. “Do you want to? Is your hair even alive at this point?”

You hear someone softly call your name, and turn before you head Felix’s response. A staff member is waving you over as Seungmin and Jisung walk by.

“Looking good,” you compliment them, smiling brightly. You’re excited for what you’ll be wearing for the performance.

So you’re handed the set of clothes that you change into. You don’t even get a chance to look at yourself in a mirror before you’re whisked away for makeup and hair.

You eventually step out, joining the others. It seems as if everyone else has finished with their own styling, and everyone looks great.

There’s one tiny little problem, though.

Your tiny little skirt.

Your shirt is amazing, and you can’t disagree with the fact that you look hot in it. But the skirt is as small as they get. You’re amazed that you’re even allowed to wear it.

You’re fairly certain it’ll stay in place during thr performance, but you really don’t want to take chances. So you do an experimental twirl, heart sinking when the skirt instantly flies up.

Hyunjin recoils when he sees you. “What the-“

“Watch it!” Chan warns, narrowing his eyes. He faces you, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh boy.”

You tug the material down, fiddling with it anxiously. “Is it that bad?”

Jeongin is averting his eyes, which does absolutely nothing to make you feel better. “Nope. It’s totally fine.”

“Did they ask you about this?” Minho frowns deeply, glancing out at the crowd between the curtains. The sound check is almost complete, so you’re running out of time to deal with this.

“No. I wasn’t aware that I’d be wearing this.” Your hands tremble. You feel sick with how short it is. You half believe you’re at risk of your most intimate areas just being on display.

Seungmin grunts a little. “Want my sweater? To tie around your waist?”

You consider it for a moment before shaking your head. “Maybe later. I don’t want it to look like I’m disrespecting the stylists.”

“But it’s fine!” Jisung assures you. “These aren’t our usual stylists, and they don’t know our boundaries.”

“But we also don’t want to start something with this event,” you point out. They stylists had come with the gig, and you didn’t want to disrespect them if you didn’t usually work with them. It might ruin any other opportunities.

“Positions, everyone,” Chan suddenly says. He gives you a pitying look as everyone files into their assigned places. “You’ve got this.”

You’re not as confident as he is, but you force a smile. You tug the skirt down one last time before bounding out onto stage.

The music starts up and you begin to dance. Every movement that involves legs (pretty much all of them) has the skirt flipping up. Felix is behind you for the beginning, and when you catch a glance of his face it’s bright red.

You miss a hand gesture because you’re adjusting the fabric again, and your stomach tumbles. The media is going to have a field day with this. Everyone is going to be talking about how unprofessional you are.

Positions are swapped, and then you’re next to Changbin. He turns his gaze away to be respectful, but it just reinforces the idea in your head that the outfit is bad. That you’re indecent.

You blink back tears as you stumble over yet another move, too busy holding the skirt down to make it to the next spot in time. You’re falling behind, mind focused on your decency and not the dance.

Then your lines come, and your voice cracks. You’re lucky enough that you don’t have to hold your microphone up, because you honestly don’t have a spare hand.

It comes to an end, and you all bow. You walk off stage, perhaps the most humiliated that you’ve ever been.

Changbin loops his arms around you, tying his sweater around your waist. You mutter your thanks and wrench your headset off. 

“Hey.” Chan gently grabs your arm and steers you back to the group. “Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You keep your head ducked, gaze locked on the floor. Your throat burns and you’re struggling not to cry.

Jeongin comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder. “I think you did great.”

You shove him away. “Well I didn’t! I sucked because of this stupid skirt! I let it get in my head, and now everyone’s going to be talking about it!”

Minho sits on the ground and takes your hands in his. He gently pulls you down to his lap and lets your cry against his chest. “Yeah, it wasn’t your greatest performance.”

“How is that supposed to help?” Jisung hisses out.

“But Stay loves you no matter what. And if they don’t, they can go suck it.” Minho strokes your hair. 

Chan clears his throat. “I might not have said it in those exact words, but he’s right. And from now on, I’ll make it clear to our managers and staff about our boundaries. Including those that we work with for the first time.”

You hiccup between tears, burying your face further against Minho. “Really?”

Chan hums. “Absolutely. And we have time to change before our next song, so why don’t you go to the stylists again?”

You sniffle and push yourself out of Minho’s grip. Seungmin gives you a reassuring smile as you wander off.

“Excuse me?” you hesitantly say as you approach one of the stylists. “Would it be okay if I got a different skirt? Or maybe some pants?”

He tilts his head, nose wrinkling. “Why? Is there a problem with it?”

“Uh, it’s just that-“ You toy with the material as you try and find the correct words. You don’t want to insult the man. “Dancing in this is very difficult. I don’t feel comfortable in this.”

He smiles mockingly. “Oh, really? Well it’s fine. It’s not even that short.”

“I just danced in it and it didn’t go that well.” You’re aware that you’re running out of time. You need to hurry up. “Can you please just direct me to-“

“Have you considered that maybe it’s just your skill?” he interrupts. He sighs and shakes his head, turning away. “But fine. I could find something else.”

You swallow thickly as you follow him.

Is it actually your own fault? Are you just not a talented enough dancer for these clothes? 

“Is this good enough for you?” The stylist holds up a new set of bottoms, and you wince. It’s even smaller than the one you’re currently wearing.

“Ready yet?” Jisung comes sliding in, eyes widening at the skirt being held up. “Wow, that’s small.”

“Uh, almost,” you weakly tell him.

Jisung’s eyes catch on your face and trembling bottom lip. His arms shoot out to wrap around you, and he pats your back. “It’s okay!”

“Are you wearing this or not?” the stylist snaps. 

“No, she’s not.” Jisung tightens Changbin’s sweater on your waist. “She’s wearing this and we have to go now, since we’re on in less than a minute. But I’ll be telling Bang Chan about you.”

The man pales. Having an idol complain about you was pretty much a death sentence, especially when that idol had as much influence as Stray Kids.

Jisung grabs your hand you the two of you dash out onto stage. You burst out and join the rest of the members, just in time for the music to begin.

This time it goes smoother. The sweater gives enough weight to keep the skirt down, and you’re able to focus on the dance. Your movements are fluid and well-executed, and you know even Hyunjin would be proud.

When you go backstage, you feel mildly more confident. You take a swig of your water bottle as Jisung tells Chan about the stylist.

Jeongin huffs, overhearing the conversation. “What an asshole.”

Seungmin hums his agreement. “A real dick.”

Chan holds up his hands. “Let’s watch the language, everyone. We’re professionals at work.”

Changbin snorts. “Right. If he’s a professional, why did he basically humiliate her?”

Felix hooks an arm over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I bet Minho will screw up soon and everyone will forget about today.”

Minho makes a sound of protest, narrowing his eyes. “Why me?”

Hyunjin wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Relax, it’s just an example.”

Chan calls the stylist over, who appears vaguely nauseated as he steps closer. He bows briefly to Chan before his eyes flick to you for a fraction of a second.

“I heard you had a bit of an issue with one of my members?” Chan blandly asks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry. “Were you the one who put her in that skirt? Were you planning for her to humiliate herself and get kicked out of the industry?”

“Yeah!” Jisung cries out. He’s immediately silenced by Minho.

“S-Sorry,” the man mutters. “I just- I’m sorry.”

“No, no, continue.” Chan arches an eyebrow challengingly. “You just what?”

“Bet he just wanted to see her in it,” Seungmin drawls. “Is that it?”

A bead of sweat rolls down the stylist’s forehead. “Well- It wasn’t that short!”

“Would you feel comfortable wearing it?” Felix chimes in. “Because I thought it was pretty short.”

“Guys,” you say. “Let’s just go home. I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Poor thing.” Hyunjin pats your head. “Wanna eat a whole bunch of ice cream with me?”

“Maybe,” you slyly say, walking with him to the van. You ignore the sounds of Chan still scolding the man. 

“If you ever need my sweater again, just ask.” Changbin comes up from behind you to poke at the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Are we just stealing these?” Jeongin questions once everyone is in the van. Everyone is also still in the performance clothing. 

Chan frowns. “Oops.”

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret

[littlemissshifter]

ummm idk how to explain this without sounding like a total debbie downer but the rise of fascism in the world really makes me doubt shifting for some reason like. why am i even here in such a shit fuck ass reality. does that make sense 😭 like maybe it’s just the fact that these situations make me feel out of control and hopeless like wdym there’s shit like human trafficking and nazis and genocide what the fuck.

idk what to do anymore and it scares me. it feels like my affirming isn’t enough and shifting is fake or something and i’m just dissociating from reality or something to cope with events happening in my country. 😵‍💫

hi! This is really important to talk about and thank you for bringing it up.

A lot of people can feel hopeless and lost with what's going around the world as a whole. We need to realise that these things exist and they exist in every reality. Not particularly the topics mentioned above, but the good and the bad. If even one or the other did not exist, there is negative in too much positive (eg being self sacrificial in the name of being kind) and positive in too much negative (people realising things need to change and stepping up to be the change they want in society).

I'm not saying these things should exist no matter what. I'm saying is that the good and the bad will exist anyways. Because the universe is all about balance and one without the other is non-existent.

You cannot change the ways of the world. But, you can change the ways of your world. Your reality.

Even if we all exist on this earth right now, we live in different realities. You're not only existing in this reality but in many others. The thing is you're only aware of existing in this reality. You can change that anytime. It is common to worry about the world, of how things are and what you want to do to stop it. You can do that as it is also the part of your reality. The world you look at is your reality. Now, you did not create 'this' whole reality. It existed before you were aware of it. Collective human consciousness created it.

You were 'born' or exist in this reality because you were shaped by it's beliefs. You played a part in it too. You were unaware then.

But, now you're aware. You can choose anything and decide it in your world. It will become true as reality is you. The only way to help the world as a collective is to help ourselves rise and become more. Become what we are truly as humans which is more than any physical event that has happened or is or will be happening in the 3D. This does not mean to stop helping people. But we need to help ourselves too by rising above the conditioning of the 'matrix' and knowing what we're capable of.

Again I'll say, let whoever runs the world run it, you just have to run yours.

[clemelntine]

Heartkillers ep 10 uncohesive stray thoughts

With screenshots cuz I take to many and I'll feel like that's wasteful if I don't at least use them for a post

God, this scene reeks of codependency. But like in a good way, yknow. In an evidence of love way. They just don't want to be apart because they care. And I guess cuz they're scared they won't see each other again.

I love Fadel and his consistent morals. He'd been silent, letting Bison get his anger and revenge, cus that is not his main thing, but as soon as he hears any word of deciet or lies, he's right on his feet getting involved.

Yeah that checks.

I have to wonder, tho, if Lilly is a poisoner, why were Fadel and Bisons' parents shot? And why would she train them with a gun instead of the weapon she know best?

That's not the unbelievable part dear. She seems very capable of all that. Look at what she made you do

Acting like some housewives worrying about their husbands away at war or some shit.

Imma be real with you. I wasn't paying attention for a bit, and I read this as "Why don't you try and top Fadel?" and I got a little hopeful for a bit.

We've got a comeback from the -two rings on one finger, no other jewelry- look from style. Love this energy.

For anyone wondering, the first time we saw this was in episode 6 when he was out drinking with Kant, so it might just be what he wears when he goes to get drunk with his buddy. Guess there aren't too many occasions for a mechanic to wear a mid finger index ring. It tends to get in the way a lot when moving (like manual labor). And if you dont wear a ring often, choosing to wear no other jewelry to make your specialty ring pop makes a lot of sense.

Sorry, I looked too deeply into that.

Lillys actress is so stunning. The discomfort and distaste on her face is so subtle but to perfect.

Oh, drama, Keen already knows about (one of) their lovers and tried to kill him. I wonder why he used a gun, tho. The only flashback/scene we saw of them pre assassin, while training, was to show that Keen was a worse shot than Bison and Fadel. Did he improve or was the reason he missed (only hitting styles arm, not killing him) because he still has bad aim.

Also, could the tattoo be Kants' work? It kinda reminds me of his spiderweb arm tatoo, but that doesn't mean its his style (he might not have done his arm one himself), so who knows, maybe they know each other, maybe they don't.

Fucking romantic loser, holy shit. He couldn't see gay people without thinking of his boyfriend

That's not something to be fucking proud of cassie

Nr. 1 god his hair looks fucking good like this

Nr. 2 Mister poetry over here, annoying piece of shit with his lovey dovey words

Ofc Style would instigate a cheer, like this is a cheersquad and not a murder operation

I really need him to stop mentioning it all the time, like he is proud of it or something

Oh, uniform kink. Interesting

Okay, I kinda feel bad for Keen now. Nobody seems to care about him (except Thanon ig, I hope nothing bad happens to him). Lilly didn't even care enough to use him.

Also, jesus Fadel, you're brothers. You've never put in even an hour of effort to ask about his day or some shit, rude. (I get that they are all just a product of Lillys creation but but this seems a lil excessive)

With the tattoos. That is quite a bold plan. There is like a 50/50 change they (rich ladies) are put off by the tattoos. Guess some might see it as an adventure and be into it. It's still a gamble.

Also like how does he know golfing, tho? Had he golfed before, or is Kant just good at improvising, because he looked quite knowledgable.

The way he has lowered himself to look up at her through his lashes, the fucking bitch. Once again using First height for storytelling. This time, Kant has lowered himself to make Lilly feel like she is above him and in control.

Idk if she is open-minded or if she could just smell the gay on him.

Ahw, he cares. Does he expect Keen to do that, tho? Like Fadel knows that he already tried to kill Style and has shot him. He doesn't seem likely to suddenly care about the wishes of his brother, who doesn't even care about him.

Not too sure what it means but i just noticed that Fadel has his whole head and neck angled up while Styles face is pointed to the front and he is just looking up with his eyes, through his eyelashes.

Maybe it's to show that Fadel is more confrontational while Style is more scared of Keen.

Oh, calling his bluff, cute. I dont remember if Fadel backed down when Bison pointed his gun at Style but if he did (i think so) that contrast shows very well how succesfull Lilly has been in driving them apart by making them all think Keen is less capable (mostly because she just didnt let him train)

Ofcourse he has to brag, has to lay out his success (he could have kept it to himself to use it for longer, but whatever, guess he expects to take him out right here, right now). Because Keen doesn't actually have any negative feelings towards Fadel (except maybe jealousy), he mostly just wants to prove himself to be capable. Even though he is holding the gun, it is Lilly who has her finger on the trigger. Without her constant critique, he would have felt the need to do all this. It's really her words that are driving Keen to do this, not Fadel (and Bisons) actions.

Yeah, and i feel like Keen should know that. Doesnt he know about her killing Fadels boyfriend, and he knows she wants Style dead as well, he has all the evidence he needs to see that Fadel and Bison dont have any more freedom or happiness than he does, just more tasks.

The continual cutting to Style while they talk about Fadels ex probably has to tell us something, but i honeslty can't read that much off his face. Is he jealous?

You're telling me Fadel couldn't figure that out himself. Even if he didn't think about it too much then (too sad or something), now with this new info he has about her, it shouldn't come as that much of a shock. She killed your parents and is trying to kill your boyfriend. It is not odd to think this patern is connected.

The desparation in both his eyes, his words, and his voice; it's fucking heartbreaking

Squished Fadel, perfection

Styles speech was a lil akward, but he got his point across and he has never really been a poet before. The honesty, although clunky, makes it seem more vulnerable and true, more like Style

Fav scenes

Fadel and Bisons emotional breakdown in the abandoned building. Omg the feelings..

Kant golfing was very cute.

Kant and Bison in the empty pool. Shit was stunning.

Fadel and Styles last scene. Maybe I just like Fadel crying and strong emotions.

For anyone wondering about my statistics, I took a total of 180 screenshots. 81 of Fadel and or Style, 58 of Kant and or Bison, 10 of Keen, 8 of Bison and Fadel together, 7 of Reurat, 5 of Lilly, 5 of more than two characters in a shot, 3 of Kant and Style together, 2 of Lilly and Keen together, and 1 of Babe

[ceslatoil]

Ghost Filbrick AU

So a few weeks ago I was in the group chat and I pitched an idea for a fic (not writing it anytime soon, I have enough projects on my plate for now!) and it’s about the Pines family visiting Ma Pines before she moves to an assisted care facility. Main idea is that Dipper and Mabel meet Filbrick’s ghost who is trying to hinder the move, and the family trying to get him to move on. Lots of family drama ensues.

I wrote like, a scrap of a script draft for it if y’all wanna read it below:

(Scene: The grown ups, including CARYN, STAN, FORD and COOPER, MABEL & DIPPER’s dad, are all up playing cards. CARYN pulls out the Tarot Deck)

Caryn: I call this one “Last Man Standing!” You put down a card and the other player has to put down either the same suit or card number. If someone plays a major arcana card like wheel of fortune or the star, they can switch up the minor arcana suit. If you play death or the tower, the other players draw four. Whoever has zero cards wins!

Dad Pines: Grandma I think you just reverse engineered Uno

Stan: Dad wouldn’t buy us more than one card deck, so we made due with Ma’s tarot.

Ford: I thought it was to keep you from cheating the deck

Caryn: Both things could be true! Now hush.

Stan: … Coop is everything all right with Dipper? It’s not my business but… he seemed pretty cagey with ya earlier.

Caryn: Cagey? The kid stormed out of the room in the middle of dinner! Granted it was *my* cooking, so I can’t really hold a grudge on that front. (*plays a card*) That’s The Fool, so we’re reversing direction.

Ford: … It just doesn’t seem like him.

Coop: … that’s been the norm lately, I’m afraid. I don’t think he’s handling the divorce well, with me moving out and I just haven’t been around as much since then.

Ford: Mabel told us in one of her letters you were in family therapy together?

Coop: We’ve had a few sessions, yes. She loved it, got along great with our counselor. I think she asked a few times about becoming a therapist someday! But Dipper doesn’t really participate much during the sessions. He just sulks in the corner, like he doesn’t want to be there at all.

Stan: He’ll get over it. He’s stubborn, but not the type to hold a grudge.

Ford: I can’t imagine any of this is easy for any of you.

Coop: Weirdly enough, me and Annie— uh, Annie and *I*— have gotten on better than ever. Divorce was the best thing to happen to our relationship, it’s like we’re finally friends again?

Stan: Divorce ain’t so bad, I’ve done it at least six times now!

Caryn: I thought about divorcing your father, but he died before I got around to it. Suit change.

Ford: when did Dad pass?

Stan: … ‘97.

Ford: … I see. (*silence*)

Caryn: … Let’s not talk about funerals right now. God knows I’ve been to enough of ‘em. I’m just glad one of ‘em didn’t count. (*pinches Stan’s cheek.*)

Stan: … me too, Ma.

Ford: … Last Man Standing

Stan: Like hell you are, you shit, draw four!

Ford: … that’s not the tower, that’s a Stan Buck!

Caryn: Don’t tell me you’re still making Stan Bucks! You know damn well that’s not how money works!

(This next part is self indulgent and idk if I’ll include it in the fic proper)

Caryn: Now Stanford… let me ask you a question. Why the hell have you been hiding your left hand in your pocket all night?

Ford:…. I don’t know what you mean— HEY!

(Caryn pulls his hand out of his pocket, examines his second ring finger)

Caryn: Stanford Filbrick why does it look like you have a wedding band on your finger?

Ford: …. (*sighs*) because I have a wedding band on my finger.

Caryn: AHA! Here we are moping about death and divorce and you sit on good news like that! Who is she? Who’s your wife? Where’d you meet her, what’s her family like, what does she do?

Ford:… I don’t have a wife. I have a husband.

Stan: The guy used to live in the dump and now he’s a millionaire inventor running for president.

Caryn: You married McGucket?! Me and the girls canvassed for him this year! Wait till I tell that Janine, that’ll get her to pipe down about her Chiropractor Son-In-Law for once!

Coop: I really like his policies on infrastructure, very forward thinking!

Stan: Eh, I’m voting third party. Nothing personal, I just don’t want a brother in law who’s commander in chief. It would make thanksgiving a nightmare.

Ford: You’re a felon, you can’t vote at all.

Stan: That hasn’t stopped me in thirty years!

Ford: So Ma, you’re… fine with—

Caryn: Sweetie, until this morning I thought two of my sons were dead and one cut all ties. I figured I deserved it. Sitting back while your Father gave you all grief for nothin. I told myself if I ever saw you again I’d take you as is, and I meant it.