#in the words of mary. he is such a loser

[yangjeongin]

HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2024): hyunjin in every letter... ↘ D-10 | UNFORTUNATE EVENTS

[lasats-are-lovely]

Eugh, can all the boring people complaining about having to watch rebels to understand Ashoka in the Star Wars rebels tag pls fling themselves into the sun?

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴���𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[julietsbody]

divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 

and he stuck true to that, until you came. 

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 

he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 

but he was here, and so, he prayed. 

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 

is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 

on reaching the place, 

he said to them, “pray that you 

will not fall into temptation.” 

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 

“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 

“why don’t you show it to me?” 

absolution; 

formal release from guilt, 

obligation, or punishment. 

or.. 

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 

“tell me what you want.” 

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 

 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 

[moonstruckme]

Remus is the type to keep a rubberband or a scrunchie on his wrist for his s/o

I believe that he started keeping it when sirius's hair got long in 4th year and he used to forget a hair tie everywhere.

When remus started dating reader he began keeping one particularly in their favorite colour but never let anyone know.

I can just imagine reader at a house party going around asking each girl for a rubberband cuz she forgot hers and he just pulls one out of nowhere and hands it to them wordlessly (or just holds his wrist in front of them and their eyes light up)

Would be awesome if you write smth abt this <3

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: alcohol, reader has hair long enough to tie back

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 560 words

Remus’ eyes track you as you ping-pong around the party, stopping to talk to people for only a handful of seconds before finding another target. He’s not trying to be a creep, but you’ve reached a stage of the night where a bit of supervision is necessary. Your eyes are alight and your smile comes easy, and when you pivot and a bit of punch sloshes onto your hand you don’t even notice. 

You go from Lily, to Sirius, to Marlene, to Alice, back to Lily, and then aim for the kitchen. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” Remus intercepts you, setting a hand on your shoulder and steering you discretely away from any potential refills. “Having a good time?” 

“Mhm.” You grin up at him, distracted by the movement of his hand up your shoulder to cup the side of your neck. You shrug and tilt your head, squishing his hand between them, and Remus indulges you by poking your dimple with his thumb. You giggle, delighted. “I’m looking for Mary. Have you seen her?” 

He thinks for a moment. “Not lately, no. Want help looking?” 

“Sure.” You catch at his other hand with both of yours, intertwining your fingers messily. “I just need to ask her something.”

“What’s that?” he asks as you start to tug him towards the kitchen. 

“I’m sick of my hair.” You blow a piece of it away from your face, vexation twinging in your features. “I wanna know if she has a hair tie I can borrow.” 

“Oh, wait.” He stops, pulling you closer before taking his hand from between yours. “Hold on a second.” 

You look up at Remus curiously, not protesting when he turns you around by your shoulders and begins gathering your hair in his hands. He takes care to comb the errant strands around your face and the nape of your neck up with the rest, confining it all to a loose ponytail. 

“S’that alright?” 

“I didn’t know you carry a hair tie,” you murmur, almost to yourself, as you go towards a small mirror mounted on the wall. “Remus!” Your voice goes up an octave, elated. “It’s my favorite color!” 

“I know,” he says, a bit smug. It only worsens when you spin around and throw your arms around his waist. Remus hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and you tilt your head back, chin digging into his sternum as you beam up at him. 

“You’re so good to me,” you gloat. “How long’ve you been carrying that around for?” 

“A while,” he says vaguely, because Since you told me your favorite color makes him sound like a loser and in your current state he’s not entirely sure you wouldn't start crying. “I’m used to having one for Sirius anyway, so it was really just a color adjustment.” 

Your eyes go all soft and smitten, your bottom lip jutting out a bit even through your smile. “You’re the sweetest boy I ever met,” you tell him, sincerity coating your words like honey. 

Remus rolls his eyes to dodge the compliment, opting instead to take your face between his hands and squishing your cheeks together. You let him without complaint, your smile going mushy. “You make me do sweet things,” he says. 

You hum like you know the truth but you’ll let him get away with it anyway.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Talk Too Much

Pairing: Remus Lupin x loud but shy!reader

Cw: college!au, fluff, kind of friends to lovers, obliviousness by Remus for a while, drinking (mentioned), smoking (cigarettes), I think that’s it

Wc: 2.2k

You’re a loudmouth. Through and through. Of all your friends, you honestly think you and James would be the ones to never shut up or run out of words.

That is until Remus transfers into the school and infiltrates your friend group and suddenly you find the words can run out.

It’s not on purpose.

It seems to take you over purely by coincidence- the way your throat gets dry and your tongue seems too heavy to form the words you want to get out when Remus seems to be paying attention to only you. His gaze isn’t unwelcome- that’s the entire problem.

You like the feeling of being what he looks at, but it feels too good, too natural.

His honey eyes that are just lightly flecked with green, and his sharp jawline that’s adorned with silvery scar tissue that somehow makes him even more handsome.

He’s also always got a cigarette to fiddle with.

You’ve only seen him smoke twice, and had been mesmerised by the way his cheeks hollow and how he blows the smoke out and it seems to curl around him like it’s unable to obey his exhales in the opposite direction.

He reminds you in a way of Charlie Dalton and Stephen Meeks.

Fctional characters who Remus seems to emulate in his confidence (from Charlie) and a sort of confidence that’s self-assured yet mild at the same time (a mix of the two) and that in itself makes you fall a little more for him.

It’s overwhelming- this attraction to him. It confuses you and has you tripping over words in your head, far less for if you voiced them and all that was heard were clunky excuses for sentences.

What makes your sudden bouts of silence obvious is the fact that your friends have caught onto you.

It’s not like it’s exceptionally hard to decipher either- you’re not really good at being subtle.

You suspect James and Sirius are taking bets on when it’ll all be too obvious for everyone to walk around it and you desperately hope that it takes months while simultaneously hoping it takes only weeks.

Remus notices the way your body freezes when you realise you’ve caught his attention in your storytelling. In his mind, it’s because you don’t like him.

The way you shrink down and suddenly go silent the moment his eyes set upon you, the way you remain quiet even though he sees the way the corners of your mouth twitch with something to say.

He thinks he’s put you off somehow, especially when the second he’s gone a little ways away to get a drink or get his lunch, you seem to perk right back up and dive into storytelling once more.

It bothers him so much he asks Sirius about it- a mistake in itself, because Sirius only pokes fun at his friend.

“If you can’t realise why she goes silent the moment you stare at her Lupin, I can’t help you.” Sirius walks off leaving Remus even more perplexed, moreso when he hears Sirius says, “How’s he so thick for someone doing so many higher classes?”

It bewilders Remus for weeks, your always sudden vows of silence and then your equally sudden broken vows.

You’re all at a house party when it comes to an almost end.

You’re dressed pretty like always, a skirt that hugs all the places Remus longs to touch and a top that shows a sliver of your stomach and Remus catches a glimpse of jewellery hanging in your navel.

Your ears have a pair of hanging bat earrings, and your necklace is your standard one- he’s sure he’s never seen you without it.

You’re smiling and laughing with Marlene and Mary as you walk in. Remus wants to figure out why you dislike him so, he desperately wants to change your sour opinion of him. He’s going to at least try to do so tonight, if you can stomach looking at him.

“C’mon losers,” James’ loud voice is unmistakable, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven.”

Remus is only approaching when he hears your teasing,

“Are we taking a blast back to Year 9 Jamie?”

James nods, “Yeah we are, and would you look at that you and Lupin are up first.” You’re sure there’s an evil little grin on James’ face when you look up and find Remus standing there in his soft brown sweater and jeans.

You can smell a little of the cigarette he’d smoked before coming in, but mostly you smell his citrus, pepper and amber cologne.

It’s heady and you swear your brain gets a little drunk on it.

“Get going you two,” Sirius teases and you sigh standing.

Remus’ mind is reeling, wondering how he’s going to get back at Sirius and James and the rest of your friends that he knows are in on this too.

Out of ear shot of your friends as you both go to the nearest room, Remus says lowly, “You don’t have to come in. I’ll just tell them we talked.”

You look up at him, eyes wide and Remus takes your surprise as a moment to admire you up close. He counts three beauty marks near your right eye, another on your neck just under your chin, and one on your nose. He’s distracted by you for a good long while that he doesn’t register you’ve spoken till he sees you walk into the room and gesture for him to follow.

It’s tense, a silence neither of you are sure how to break.

You think Remus is the most gorgeous man to be placed on the Earth, and Remus thinks you find him repulsive.

You watch Remus climb onto the bed, his long legs crossed at the ankles as his back presses against the headboard.

His casualness makes him look even more attractive and while you’re aware that you’re staring at him, you can’t make yourself stop.

‘Now or never,’ he thinks to himself before asking, “Have I offended you somehow?”

There it is, laid open and bare. The question hangs in the air, like the most tantalising yet foreign fruit you’ve ever seen.

“No?” It comes out like a question. One Remus takes as a chance to explain.

“It’s just that you’re always talking or telling a story with the others, and as soon as I’m near earshot you go silent and you can’t meet my eyes. So I’ve been thinking that maybe I’ve offended you, and I just wanted to say sorry for if I did- directly or indirectly.”

Remus’ attractiveness has been upped by a thousand- you’re sure all the love deities are having a laugh at your hopelessness.

You can’t meet his eyes now, even as you sit on the bed, so close to him that your biceps brush each other’s. “You haven’t offended me.”

Your voice is much softer than he’s ever heard it. Remus thinks this must be the softest you’ve ever spoken in your whole life.

“I haven’t?” he asks and you shake your head. Hazarding a glance at him, you find Remus leaning his shoulder down, his chin tucked as his eyes roam your frame.

“N-no,” your stutter gives you away slowly. “You’re just different from the others.” It’s not a clearer explanation, but the gears are turning in Remus’ head all the same and you can tell.

“Different how?” Remus doesn’t want to assume anything and that’s what causes the gears to come to a screeching halt.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Remus has never seen you this unsure. Everything you do is with confidence and ease, like you were just made to walk, talk and move the way that you do. Like it was as easy as breathing.

Maybe it’s the way you take your time to consider your words, or the way you fiddle with your clothes or even the way your breathing changes as he leans just a bit closer that makes Remus smile a little.

“Will you look at me for a second, darling gwerthfawr?” The softness of his tone and the way his accent changes to something a little more melodic makes you more jelly-like than you usually are in his presence.

“Hm?” you hum and Remus smirks. Silvery slithers of scar tissue moving with his mouth and making him look wicked in a way that has you falling a little more in love with him.

“Why don’t you like looking or speaking to me?”

Remus doesn’t let you turn away, doesn’t let you tuck your cheek to your shoulder as you deliberate what you want to say. No, instead, the menace holds your chin and stares at you, holding your gaze and making your brain cloud even more as his cologne and attention wash over you.

“I like looking at you,” you admit shyly, the confession coming from your lips with hesitation. Like Remus will be repulsed by the fact that you like looking at him. “But you make me nervous.”

The words are suspended in the quiet of the room. All there is the muffled sounds of the party going on in the living room, and then yours and Remus’ breathing.

“I make you nervous?”

Sirius and James burst through the door, wide smiles that turn into shocked smirks at your positions.

“Well love birds, sorry but your seven minutes are up.” Remus staggers in letting your chin go, but when his fingers slacken, you leave the room, belly in knots in the almost wordy confession.

“So, how’d that go?” James asks him as you bend the corner- he’s sure that Lily and the other girls will be doing the same with you.

Remus flops on the bed, “Nothing that concerns you two gits.” His mind is racing with possibilities of finishing this conversation.

Sirius boos, “After all that planning to get you two in here and snogging each other’s faces off, that’s the thanks we get?” Walking out with James who’s shaking his head.

-

“But you make me nervous,” repeats in his head for days. He’s not dense by a mile, but Remus has a hard time figuring out what about him makes you nervous.

Sure he’s tall and a little serious, but he’s not as intimidating as he’d first thought Sirius was. Remus doesn’t want to turn to his friends, sure they’d tease him endlessly for being ‘thick,’ and then more than likely tell you and that would just make you even more nervous to look or speak to him at the very least.

What Remus does do, is consult the best person he knows that will give him impartial advice; books.

There’s always a book for any occasion, so he delves deep. Behavioural analysis books, books on people with social anxiety (which he doesn’t think you have because it’s just him that gets the selective mutism) and even at the end of it, he turns to romance novels. Something must stand out.

It comes to a head when Remus comes to the library when you’re busy typing away at your essay. You feel the presence, the warmth of his pepper and amber cologne as he pulls the seat out beside you.

Remus doesn’t say a word as he sits down. Instead, he pulls out his laptop and begins typing at the same essay prompt you’re working on.

You’re hyper aware of everything he’s doing- every breath, every sigh, every harsh backspace and enter.

Remus doesn’t seem to be half as affected as you are and it has you whispering, “What are you doing here, Remus?”

He hums, tapping his forefinger near the touchpad. He finishes his sentence and then turns to you. “Working on that essay due tomorrow.”

You frown, lips pulled downwards as you think of your next words. “You know what I mean, why are you sitting beside me?”

Remus sighs, head hanging off the back of the chair. “I want you to not be nervous around me anymore. I also want to know why I make you nervous.”

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry.

Remus turns to look at you and the amber lighting of the library makes his skin look sunkissed and supple. His honey and sage eyes blink owlishly at you, no sign of rushing you along for an answer.

That was something you had learnt while silently watching Remus. He’s always actually listening- not just listening to respond.

“Because,” you start, eyes darting all over his face in search of any insecurity in it. “You always seem so hyper focused on what it is I’m going to say next and it flusters me.”

Remus’ face morphs into a smile, his lazy expression from before melting away as his eyes warm to your embarrassed whisper.

“So it’s not dislike?” He asks, hands itching to tip your chin up like he had the other night.

“Are you going to make me say it out loud?”

“Poor girl,” he feels much more confident now. Now that he knows for sure that you don’t hate him and that you might actually like him as much as he likes you, he can be a little more flirty.

His hand reaches for your wrist, thumb running back and forth around your pulse.

You scowl, more than a little bashful to have exposed your feelings to Remus. He doesn’t mind.

No, Remus feels over the moon. Enough so that his hand moves from your wrist and his forefinger hooks under your chin so you’re making eye contact again.

“I like you too. Just as much,” it’s his turn for a whispered confession and you hope to all hell that he can’t feel the thundering of your pulse. “Maybe more.”

You feel your body buzz under his attention. Remus leans in closer, “Let me take you out after this? We can go somewhere quiet and have a proper ‘first’ conversation.”

[okaysonny]

the group chat mishap ╏ vasco + j high

★ summary: vasco accidentally adds everyone to a group chat.

★ details: fluff, no reader, includes most of j high, spoiler free, takes place at the start of busan arc (531)

★ wc: 890

★ A/N: i'd really like some J HIGH SILLINESS i think we'd all like some J HIGH SILLINESS ptj can you please give us some J HIGH SILLINESS

vasco has a simple idea: create a group chat of unity for burn knuckles. a motivational space to keep the squad inspired. should be easy enough, right?

Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ created the group '🔥Burn Knuckles United🔥'

Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ BROTHERS. OUR BOND IS UNBREAKABLE. LET'S STAY STRONG TOGETHER. 💪🔥 Zack the Snack ??? Zoe Park <3 Huh? What’s going on? Vin$anity Why the hell am I here? Jace Park 🧠 …Vasco…you added everyone… Mira Kim 🌸 Oh, this is cute! Hi guys! 😊 ❤️ Liked by Zack the Snack Daniel Park :) What's this group for, Vasco? ❤️ Liked by Jay Hong Eli Jang 👶💖 Is this a Burn Knuckles thing? Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ YES. IT IS FOR THE BROTHERHOOD. 💥🔥 Jace Park 🧠 VASCO. YOU ADDED EVERYONE. THIS ISN’T JUST BURN KNUCKLES. Vin$anity LOOOL LOOK AT THIS DUMBASS Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) You should delete this group Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ NO. THIS IS OUR SACRED SPACE FOR UNITY Jace Park 🧠 VASCO. I TOLD YOU. YOU ADDED EVERYONE. THIS ISN'T JUST BURN KNUCKLES!!! AND YOU DON'T NEED TO TYPE IN ALL CAPS EVERY TIME. Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ IT’S FINE JACE. EVERYONE NEEDS UNITY Jace Park 🧠 THAT’S NOT THE POINT!! Zack the Snack …Since we’re all here, who wants to see a movie later? Mira, you in? Mira Kim 🌸 Sure! ❤️ Liked by Zack the Snack Zoe Park <3 I'll come too! Zack the Snack reacted with 💔 Vin$anity Wow…Zack's always finding an excuse to be with Mira. Pathetic Zack the Snack Says the guy who used to wear sunglasses inside Vin$anity They’re prescription! Zack the Snack LMFAO SURE Mira Kim 🌸 Just leave him Zack :/ ❤️ Liked by Zack the Snack Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) Alright, that’s enough

Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) is now a group admin.

Vin$anity What the hell? How’d you do that?! Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) It’s called being smarter than you Vin$anity Whatever. Just delete the group now Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) It's actually fun! I’m keeping it Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ BROTHERS AND SISTERS. LET'S NOT STRAY FROM OUR ORIGINAL PURPOSE. UNITY AND JUSTICE. Vin$anity UNITY AND JUSTICE 💀💀💀 Why am I still here? Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) Probably because you don’t have friends Vin$anity F YOU MARY Zack the Snack …Seriously Vasco, what are you talking about? Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ THE CREED OF UNITY. THE CREED THAT BINDS US ALL AS ONE. ❤️ Liked by Jay Hong Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ BROTHER JAY HAS SAID NOTHING. BUT I KNOW HE UNDERSTANDS THE IMPORTANCE OF OUR CREED ❤️ Liked by Jay Hong Jace Park 🧠 Oh my god Vasco Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ HIS SILENCE SPEAKS LOUDER THAN WORDS ❤️ Liked by Jay Hong Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ SEE JACE? HE UNDERSTANDS THE HEART OF A TRUE WARRIOR ❤️ Liked by Jay Hong Jace Park 🧠 Vasco…please stop Eli Jang 👶💖 …Maybe we can just use this as a general chat? It’s rare for all of us to be in the same group 😅 ❤️ Liked by Zoe Park <3 and 4 others Mira Kim 🌸 That's actually a good idea! ❤️ Liked by Zack the Snack Zoe Park <3 Yeah, like a J-High group chat! Vin$anity The fuck? Why would I be stuck in a group chat with you losers? Zack the Snack Then leave man Vin$anity Why should I? I don’t care enough about you idiots to bother leaving Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) You just click the top of the chat and press 'Leave Group.' It’s not hard Vin$anity Alright tech support

the notifications are relentless, pinging one after another. amid the chaos, vasco can’t stop grinning at his phone. sure, he made a mistake, but the chat wasn’t so bad. everyone was talking — together.

he taps the top of the screen, fumbling a bit as he types.

Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ changed the group name to 'J-High Squad ❤️💪'

Vin$anity Only you could come up with a cringey name like that 💀 Mira Kim 🌸 I think it's sweet Vasco! ❤️ Liked by Zack the Snack and Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ Zoe Park <3 Aww! J-High Squad! 🥺❤️ ❤️ Liked by Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ Daniel Park :) It's pretty cute actually ❤️ Liked by Jay Hong and Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ Eli Jang 👶💖 It's…nice? ❤️ Liked by Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ Euntae Lee 🐶❤️ IT SYMBOLISES OUR FRIENDSHIP AND STRENGTH! ❤️ Liked by Jay Hong Jace Park 🧠 Vasco! 😅 Friendship is great, but all of Burn Knuckles is here too. You need to make another group for them. Vin$anity Right, and I'm not part of your dumb squad Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) And yet you're still here Vin$anity Shut up fatass Mary Kim (Buy my new book 😉) What did you just call me?!

the chat continues to buzz with reactions, and vasco can’t help but feel proud. the name stayed, and no one left.

can he figure out group chat mechanisms? maybe he doesn't need to worry about that for the moment.

for now, he was happy. the technical stuff could wait until tomorrow.

A/N: this was a pain in the ass to format. buy mary's book 'how to get a guy to like you' ;)

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[pandj0ra]

ft. YANDERE LOSER.

Tw; gn reader, suggestive, size difference, mentions of edging,

Minors DNI, below this point below includes suggestive wording, disturbing content and nsfw parts and such.

Mari's Notes ; realll sorry i haven't posted in four days, i promise I'll pop these out more

➤ # masterlist

✎ YANDERE LOSER who can't seem to get your scent and touch to leave his mind.

✎ YANDERE LOSER who would lick the dirt on your shoes and lick your spit if you ever were to spit anywhere.(you must wonder wha goes in my head.)

✎ YANDERE LOSER likes it when you drag him somewhere private and do things that'll pleasure both you and him. He would bawl his eyes out to be inside you. Edging isn't much of a problem for him since he's used to it

✎ YANDERE LOSER who follows you every just to make you snap at him. He gets frequent nosebleeds usually when you yell at him. Also a growing erection.

✎ YANDERE LOSER hates it when your friends talk about your “relationship” you have with. He grits his teeth when you say 'it's nothing' or 'it's not like that'.

✎ YANDERE LOSER is the one for you right? Then why aren't you paying attention and bullying others?

✎ YANDERE LOSER who adores the height difference you two share. You can be short or tall he'll still fall head over heels in love with you.

✎ YANDERE LOSER who loves the way you change your demeanor. It could vary from dom, sub, or just wanting him to cuddle in your arms. He knows it's very wholesome.

✎ YANDERE LOSER who tries to dom you but you'll eventually get bored and dom him. Either way it still feels amazing even though he can't cum inside.

✎ YANDERE LOSER gets hot and bothered too much. Even if you think of him only as a sex slave, he can't get the previous sessions out of his mind. You do something to him.

[anyarose011]

Too Late To Turn Back Now {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: A dislocated shoulder, an insult to end all men, a few lies, going out to eat, and an unwanted revelation about Angus Tully. What a perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve-Eve.

Part 4 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of arm injury, mentions of underage drinking, minor harassment, and discussion of cancer.

This was one of the more lighthearted and fun as hell chapters to write, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 5.0k

Apparently, Angus Tully had gone on another adventure without you. One probably shouldn’t call it an adventure if he went to the chapel, and merely stared at the photo of your dead friend for hours on end.

“Do you think he was praying?” You asked Mary after she told you that while you were helping her make lunch.

“I think he’s just as religious as you.”

You scoffed. “He’d never become a priest.”

“You’d make a lousy nun.”

“I’d be a fun one.”

Once the four of you sat down to eat, your father tried to give you cookies you knew for a fact were given to you by Miss Crane. You also knew they were a week old at this point. Still, to spare your father’s feelings, you broke off a piece. You then put it in your mouth, nodding with a smile before bringing your napkin to your lips as if to clean them, when really you just spat the cookie into it.

Immediately, Angus asked to go to the bathroom, and you knew he wasn’t doing that, but you couldn’t blame him.

“I’m trying.” Your father shrugged, and all you and Mary could do was laugh.

You helped her was the dishes after that, and went back out to the dining hall, still seeing your dad sitting at the same table, alone.

“Everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes, just waiting on Mr. Tully.”

“You honestly can’t force him to learn today.” You scoffed, leaning against one of the chairs. “It’s Christmas Eve-Eve.”

“You always had lessons on Christmas Eve-Eve, and you didn’t complain.”

“I did.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Several times.”

He sighed. “I’ll let him out early by an hour; if you attend as well.”

“Never mind, let him rot.”

“I thought so.” He got up from his chair. “Where on God’s green earth is that boy?”

You watched him leave through the doors Angus took ten minutes ago, and as you were about to go into the kitchen to (lovingly) bother Mary some more, you heard shouting. Now of course, you were (and still are) a nosey bitch, so you had no choice but to also go through the doors leading out into the hallway. You heard Angus first.

“There’s nobody here, okay? Just us two losers, a grieving mom, and your-.”

His face and words fell once he saw you enter, and your father turned to see you standing in the doorframe, looking as if you wandered into something you shouldn’t have. Then, you threw on the attitude.

“What am I now?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

“Oh, wow!” You began with fake enthusiasm.

“I didn’t mean-.”

“-No, no of course you didn’t.”

Your father stepped in. “That’s enough from the both of you. Mr. Tully, I can forgive you for using the phone without permission if-.”

“-If what?” He interrupted. “No, let’s cut the shit: You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours.”

Of course, your father had detention slips in his back pocket, and of course he threw one up. “That’s a detention.”

Angus pushed past him, groaning and walking fast down the hall. You pursed your lips. “You really showed him.”

“Stuff it, Lady Macbeth.” He scolded, then called Angus. “You just earned yourself a detention, sir. Now, get back here!”

Angus looked back. “Being here with you is already one big fucking detention!”

“Son of a bitch, that’s another detention!”

In response, Angus knocked over a trash can, which caused your father to run like you’d never seen him run before. You should be ashamed that your first instinct was to laugh, but you weren’t and you still aren’t.

You should also have felt like a fool for deciding to run after them as if it were a game. Again, you didn’t feel like one then, and if you were to do it again as an old woman, you would in a heartbeat.

You saw as Angus tore off posters from the wall and would stop at corners just to taunt your father. Then, after running around more than half the school (you had no idea how much honestly, but it was enough for you), you stopped outside of the gym with the both of them. Even with Angus’s back turned, you knew he was contemplating the unthinkable.

“Don’t you even think about it, Mr. Tully.” Your father warned, panting from running. “You are a hair’s breadth from suspension. I’ll wash my hands of you, you hear me? Wash my hands.” Angus ignored him, stepping into the gym.

You followed your father as he kept going. “Stop right there, you know the gym is strictly off limits. This is your Rubicon. Do not cross the Rubicon.”

Angus took one look at the gym equipment, then back to the two of you. “Alea jacta est.”

He winked at you before springing towards the trampoline, bouncing off of it and over the balance beam. When his body landed with a hard ‘thud!’, you and your father were stricken with tense silence.

Which was then broken when an inhuman scream ripped from Angus’ throat.

Still, as your father looked on in horror, you said (being completely unbothered). “He’s faking it.”

When his screams didn’t subside, and you only heard them grow louder and he threw in more explicate language, your smile fell. It was when he got to his knees did you see how mangled his left arm looked, and you felt like you were going to throw up.

Angus Tully was one step ahead of you in that department, and that’s all we should say about that (not that he nearly puked on you; if anyone ever says that, they’re lying and should be shot on sight).

So, that was how, on the afternoon of Christmas Eve-Eve, you came to be standing outside of your father’s shitty 1964 Nova. You and Angus, who was crying while wearing half of his jacket, were shivering violently, waiting for your father to scrape off the car.

“Hurry up!” Both you and him would beg.

“I am hurrying!” Would be your father’s only response, and you saw his face grow redder every time either of you would yell.

Luckily, he managed to (somehow) scrape it all off and you three piled into the car. Even though you were going to anyway, you father insisted you sit in the front (more than likely because he knew you and Angus would probably try to kill each other in a high tense situation, and who would’ve figured he was right).

“I was on thin ice already.” Your father panicked at you as he stepped on the gas to the hospital. “If Woodrup finds out, the facts won’t matter, he’ll make it my fault.”

“It is your fault!” Angus cried from the back of the car, trying to hold his mangled arm up. “You were supposed to be looking after me!”

“I told you to stop!”

“You said you washed your hands of me!”

“No, I meant it metaphorically!”

“Of course you meant it metaphorically. What were you gonna do, actually go and wash your hands?!”

Your father turned back to the road. “Unbelievable. Unbelievable, I said I will wash my hands, never once did I say it in the present tense!”

“I don’t know, Pontius Pilate.” You shrugged. “This Jesus guy makes a good point.”

When he hissed your real name, you nearly shrank into your seat. “I don’t need any more of this from you. You were the one to tell me he was faking it anyway!”

“You said that?!” Angus yelled. “Jesus, I knew you hated all men.”

“Not true.” You turned around to look at him. “I would’ve said the exact same thing about a woman, especially if I heard her screaming from your room!”

Out of all the times you made a man cry and left him speechless, this one was and forever will be your favorite (obviously he was crying from his arm, but you liked to think your comment also did that). Your father scolded you for your foul mouth, but it was 100% worth it.

There you three sat in the emergency room, waiting for over an hour for a nurse to let you in, when your father started monologuing to himself.

“This is the end. They’ll inform the school, who will inform your parents, and then it’s curtains. You’re gonna get me fired; you.” He looked at Angus, then you. “I hope you like sleeping in the snow, Josephine.”

“I love it more than life itself.” You rolled your eyes.

Angus grumbled. “I’m the one about to lose an arm and all you can think about is yourself.”

“Hey, he was worried about me.” You pointed out.

He turned and glared at you, and you actually felt bad for the first time that day.

A nurse soon approached you, handing your father a clipboard and pen. “If you could just fill this out, please. Admissions and insurance.”

Your father, hesitantly, begins to fill it out. It sounded like a joke at first, having to sleep somewhere else, but honestly what were you going to do? You and your father lived in the faculty housing ever since-.

“-Excuse me?” Angus asked the nurse as she was walking away. “Is there any way we could skip this whole insurance thing?”

“It’s just standard procedure.”

“I understand. But look, we were over at Squantz pond playing hockey, and I slipped on the ice.”

Your father whispered. “Angus, what are you doing?”

But he kept going, glancing at you for a moment. “Our mom told him not to take us, but I made him. Our folks are divorced, and we don’t get to see each other very often. She’ll be mad as a hornet if she finds out.”

The nurse still didn’t let up. “Okay, that’s your business. But we just have certain protocols.”

“Yeah, protocols.” Your father tried to warn.

Angus didn’t listen to either. “Please, we ever get to see my dad. It was my fault, all mine. I don’t want to get him in trouble.” He looked at you. “We can’t have her dragging him to court again.”

You shook your head, swallowing a pretend lump in your throat. “No. Last time was…oh god.”

He looked back at the nurse.  “Can we skip the whole insurance thing? We can pay cash. Right, Dad?”

What a sucker; it took you and Angus to do ‘Kicked Puppy” eyes for a minute, and she was brining the three of you in to the see the doctor in three.

When they were removing his shirt, they told him first look away from the arm, but they didn’t inform you.

“Is it that bad?” He asked upon hearing your audible disgust.

“Not the worst thing I’ve seen in a hospital.”

Your father slugged you, but not hard enough for it to hurt. Still, the whole thing was a blur as they popped Angus’ arm back into its socket. It was dislocated, not broken, and a part of you selfishly wish that it had been just to spare you from the disgusting noises. That and also Angus’s screaming, as if you hadn’t been objectified to that enough.

The three of you were leaving after Angus' arm was tied in a sling, when your father spoke up.

“Barton men don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Angus asked, readjusting his sling.

"Lie."

“Well, I had momentum.”

“Mhm,” he looked at you. “what’s your excuse?”

You shrugged. “I don’t go to Barton, and I’m not a man. Thank God, by the way, considering I hate all of them.”

Even though you said that sarcastically, neither of the men said you were wrong.

When you three made it to the pharmacy, and your father handed over the prescription, the pharmacist went to search for it. Angus lowered his voice, saying to your dad.

“You said that if Woodrup finds out, you and her screwed. So now he won’t find out.”

“What if your parents ask?” You questioned.

“Never going to happen. Trust me.”

Your father raised his brows. “Okay, then. This all remains entre nous. Got it? You know what entre nous means?”

“Oui, monsieur.” He smirked “Now you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Your father gasped. “Do not try to leverage me, Mr. Tully.”

“All I’m looking for is little thank you that I did something nice for you. That’s all.”

You shrugged, deciding you wanted a treat too. “It is Christmas Eve-Eve.”

Your father took you all out to ‘The Winning Ticket’; the classiest tavern within 50 miles. Classy being the less dingy, place in Barton. As your father and ‘Friend of Some Sort’ had a minor debate on underage drinking, you saw the last waitress you wanted approach.

“Miss Crane, as I live and breathe.” Your father sounded amazed as if he saw Aphrodite herself. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, hi guys!” She laughed “Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Well uh,” he gestured to Angus. “This is Mr. Tully.” Then to you beside him. “And this is-you already know my daughter.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “quite well. My niece knows her too if you can believe that.”

He laughed a little louder than he should have, and you wanted to crawl under the table and bang your head against the metal support until you split your skull open.

“Oh, and sure, I know you.” Miss Crane nodded to Angus.

“Angus Tully,” he smiled. “we met outside of Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet.”

“Well, I didn’t know about the ‘wrongly’ part. I just know that miss Hunham talks a lot about you when she visits.”

Aaand now you wanted to just take any of the silverware off the table (even the spoon would work) and stab yourself.

“Does she?” He teased.

You were quick with a comeback. “About how ridiculously annoying you are. I was baking cookies and Elise nearly crawled into the oven because the things I said about you were just too horrible for her to hear.”

“Now be nice.” Your father said.

“When have I never?”

The three of you ordered (after another discussion about alcohol and underage drinking with Miss Crane this time), and it did not escape you or Angus how your father’s eyes were still on her even after she left.

“Ouch,” Angus smiled. “you two have chemistry.”

“That’s the Percodan talking.” Your father pointed out.

“I don’t know, seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive.”

You gagged, not even having the will to come up with a good comeback, you were so disgusted. Thankfully, your father had one.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

You never gave it much thought; your father dating women after your mother died. He just never truly seemed that interested in anyone, and he said it himself, he never goes out. Still…while you do want him to be happy, the woman of interest is your best friend’s aunt-.

Angus pursed his lips. “May I at least go to the bathroom? Sir? “

“You mean the payphone?” Even when he saw Angus’ eyes darken, your father still was not stirred. “Jo March, accompany him, please.”

You sighed. “Why do I have to be his keeper?”

“Because I, Pontius Pilate, washed my hands of him, remember?”

With that being said, you walked with Angus over to the bathrooms, and waited outside with your arms crossed like a child being punished. After a few minutes, he came back out, and the first thing you asked was.

“How’d you lie so easily?”

He gave you a look. “When?”

“The hospital.” You clarified. “You came up with a whole story on the spot that was so convincing, you had a nurse wrapped around your finger within a minute.”

Angus shrugged, beginning to walk away. “You were honestly the icing on the cake.”

“Oh, thank you.” You spoke with sarcasm, following him. “But honestly, you-.”

“-Are you any good at pinball?”

Okay mister ‘Trying to Change the Subject’, you’d play this game (literally and figuratively). “Yeah, I think so.”

He grabbed two dimes from his pocket. “Wanna bet?”

“I guarantee you that’s all the money you have, so there’s nothing to bet.”

“Not exactly.” You both wandered over to the machines. “If I win, you owe me something, and vice versa.”

“And if I wanted you to get out of my life?”

“Done and done, but only If you win, which you won’t.” He put the dimes on top of the machine a guy was playing on.

“Sorry, kid. Next game’s taken.” The many said.

Angus furrowed his brow. “But I just put some dimes down.”

“Don’t care. My buddy’s up next.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“That’s how it works in here. Why don’t you go shoot the other fuckin’ machine?”

“Because I don’t want to shoot the other fuckin’ machine.”

You put your hand on his non-injured arm. “Angus, it’s fine.”

Before he could retaliate, the man lost the game, sighing. “Thanks for fuckin’ up my mojo. Kenny! You’re up.”

“Bullshit.” Angus shook his head. “I put my dimes down, so we’re up next.”

“What was that?” You both looked and saw ‘Kenny’, a drunk man with a hook for his right hand. Shit… “Hey, kiddies,” he snapped his fingers at the both of you. “my eyes are up here.”

His friend snorted. “Look at these fucking kids; spoiled little Barton boy and his prissy girlfriend.”

Not the first nor the last time you were a smartass to a man where it will almost get you killed. “I’ll have you know, gentlemen, he is not my boyfriend; he is the reason I hope every day I become an only child.”

“You know what?” Angus stepped in before Kenny could respond. “You can just take my dime.”

“Take it?” He taunted. “You want me to take your dime? Like it’s charity?”

“No, what I mean is, we could play together.” and let this be known that Angus Tully was not always great at thinking on his feet. “Yeah, you could be my left arm.”

“The fuck did you just say to me?!”

Flinching at his tone, you decided to actually use your brain, for once. “Oh my gosh, I think I hear Dad calling us.” You took Angus’ hand without thinking. “Come on Fitzwilliam, you fucked everything up as always.”

You didn’t care that two, pissed off men were following and yelling at you, you didn’t even care that you were holding Angus’ Tully’s hand and having him trip over his own feet as you pulled him back to your table, you just needed to get out of there.

“Papa,” you call out to your father. “can we go please?”

He hummed at your arrival (and the term of endearment, which you only use if something has gone array).  “Why?”

“Our favorite asshole got us in trouble.”

“Hey!” Kenny shouted at you and Angus. “Why’d you run off? We were just talking to you. Do they teach you manners at that school?”

Hook for hand be damned, your fight or flight instincts kicked in when he put his hand on Angus and you were about to be the reason he’d lose it. Then, Miss Crane stepped in.

“Kenneth, leave them alone, they just came in for some food.”

Still, he looked like he was about to charge the both of you.

Your father stepped in next. “Kenneth, is that right? I don’t doubt that he did something to offend you. It’s his specialty. Perhaps I could purchase you gentlemen something to imbibe, and we could let whatever this unfortunate incident is go the way of the dodo.”

“The what?” The first guy playing pinball asked.

“The dodo,” Angus said. “it’s an extinct bird.”

“What he’s trying to say is,” Miss Crane translated. “he wants to buy you guys a beer.”

It didn’t take long for the two men to consider it. Kenny nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Same here.” His friend agreed. “I’ll have a Miller.”

“The champagne of beers.” Angus smiled, nodding.

It was when everything final cooled down, and as the two men and Miss Crane left to get their drinks, did you notice you were still holding Angus’ hand. Which you let go of as if you were holding fire in the palm of your hand.

He went back to his moody self after that, as you were walking back to the car after finishing dinner (no connection of course).

“Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

Your father shrugged. “That’s one way to look at it. Here, catch.”

He tossed him the keys, which he caught. Your father continued his lecture, walking ahead of both of you.  “How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. They go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not.”

Angus glanced at you. “Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Except for Curtis Lamb.” Your father repeated his words when they stood outside the car.

“Were you ever in the military?”

“Yes, I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected-I have to get in over there.” He said after failing to open the door on the driver’s side. He walked over to the passenger’s (which you begrudgingly allowed Angus to have this time) side that Angus unlocked. “They made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

You opened the back door and slid into the seats, but Angus stayed outside, asking. “Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

Your father already was used to that question from you, so he didn’t even look scared when he hummed his approval.

“You smell.” He got into the car. “And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

He didn’t even wait for his response before rolling the window down anyway. Before you could say something snarky to defend your father, he spoke first. “Trimethylaminuria.”

Angus furrowed his brow. “Huh?”

“Trimethylaminuria.” He repeated. “Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.”

“Wow…your whole life?”

Your father nodded.

“No wonder you’re afraid of women.” Angus said your name, glancing back at you. “How did he marry your mom?”

Your jaw dropped, and only inaudible noises came out at first before you settled on. “I’m too sober for that conversation.”

“For the record,” Your dad interrupted, stunned. “I am not afraid of women, and you shouldn’t be asking a girl personal questions after insulting her father. Jesus.”

Angus nodded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Getler says I should give more consideration to my audience.”

“Who’s Dr. Getler?” You asked.

“My shrink.”

Your father decided to jump in. “Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a good swift kick in the ass?

He scoffed. “Okay, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure, just one thing.”

“Just one?” You and your father questioned.

He nodded, preparing for the absolute worst, but it never came. Your father merely turned back to the front, started the car, and began to make the long drive back to Barton. You weren’t even out of the neighborhood when Angus then asked.

“Fitzwilliam?” He looked at you. “What kind of name is that?”

Your father snickered. “That’s what you called him?”

You shrugged. “The guys thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, but he’s really awkward and looks like he wants to kill himself every time someone looks at him, I had to.”

“He strikes me more as a Hamlet.”

To anyone who didn’t know anything about Shakespeare, that would be a compliment. To you and your father specifically, it made you laugh. Of course Angus Tully would be one of the most overdramatic characters in theatre.

“Seriously,” the boy in question said tiredly. “who the hell is Fitzwilliam?”

Your father shook his head. “My advice, Mr. Tully? Brush up on the classics; Pride and Prejudice would be a good place to start.”

None of you had the strength to do much more that night besides spending time in your rooms before bed. It was as you were a few chapters into Little Women, did you wonder.

“Why were you and my dad yelling at each other this afternoon?”

Angus looked up from his copy of Popular Mechanics to see you in the doorway once you asked that question. You both were both just wearing your pajamas and socks; outfits you had only seen each other in for either a short number of times, in dimmed lighting, or with jackets over.

It felt different this time…stranger, even.

“Hello to you too.” He greeted, setting the magazine down.

“Well?”

Pursing his lips, he didn’t look at you at first before saying. “I was calling a hotel.”

“Your mom’s?”

“No, one in Boston.”

“Why would you…?” The look on his face said it all. That look of regret and pity that you didn’t understand what he meant right away. “Oh…”

You wanted nothing more than to have said it with disgust, but it was disappointment that laced the word. Then, with a mix of anger and even hurt.

“Am I that insufferable to be around?”

He shot his head up. “What? No.”

“Seems like it.” You scoffed, beginning to pace around the room. “What happened to ‘Friends of some sort’? I asked you if we were fine because I felt like you’d gone quiet, and you said we were. I get it; you asked me to tell you the craziest thing that happened to me, and I should’ve just said ‘I got slightly drunk at a party’, not everything. You barely tell me anything about yourself, and then I just go and throw out the shittiest things that have happened to me. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry-.”

“-My father’s dead.”

Nothing could’ve gotten you to shut up faster.

It caused you such a shock, that you sat down on the bed beside him, staring at him. His gaze changed in a matter of seconds; when he first told you and you looked at him, you’d never seen anyone surer. Then, as shock settled into you, discomfort did for him. You let the quietness between you linger for a moment, terrified of your own response.

“I…I had a feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were expecting him to immediately respond, but he didn’t. You debated on just sitting in the silence, or crawling back into your room and pretending this didn’t happen, when Angus finally spoke up.

“I was thirteen, he was…really, really sick for some time but then it just happened so fast and…I don’t really like talking about it, I’m sorry-.”

“-No, I shouldn’t have pressured you-.” You relented first, and ff the circumstances weren’t bleak, it would be funny how you both spoke over each other.

“-You weren’t, you told me something about yourself and I should’ve-.”

“-You aren’t in debt or some bullshit to share anything with me-.”

“-I just haven’t really told people that before-.”

“-Your arm wasn’t the worst thing I saw in a hospital.” You decided to break the loop, and it was successful. “My mother was sick too and…” You chuckled, but felt tears prick your eyes all of a sudden at the thought. “God, she’ll haunt me for this, but she was so skinny the last time I saw her…Cancer. She and my dad were debating on if I should see her like that before she goes, and I won the argument in the end that, yes, I needed to say goodbye. I’m glad I did, no, that’s not what I think of when I think of her but…it scared me. I was eleven.”

He nodded, listening without interruption; a skill that seemed he only acquired during these small moments of vulnerability. Well, you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself vulnerable; you were merely answering his questions truthfully based on your experiences (of course; no vulnerability whatsoever. You didn’t open yourself up to others outside of your father and Mary, why would you to Angus Tully?)

“I went to the chapel before anyone else woke up and I just couldn’t stop staring at the picture of Curtis Lamb…I can’t even say it got me thinking about death or anything like that I just…I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I felt weird and wanted to run away.”

“I get that.”

“I’m sorry for trying to get a hotel by the way,” he apologized again. “if that matters.”

You gave him a smile. “It does.”

For the first time in a while, you thought you saw him smile too; a genuine one, mind you, not the shit-eating grin he often gave you and everyone else. It was then you decided to get up and head to bed, bidding him goodnight. Then, again, you stopped in the doorway from another thought.

“What were you going to call me?”

“Huh?” He perked his head up.

“When you were crying about being stuck over here for Christmas?” You alluded. “You and my father are losers, Mary’s a grieving mom, but what am I?”

His eyes drifted in thought, then back to you. “‘Your know-it-all daughter.’ That’s what I was gonna say.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling as you backed out into your room. “I do know all, Angus Tully.”

You couldn’t see his face anymore when you went to your bed, but you heard his sarcastic ‘Goodnight’ with him saying your full name, and your chest felt lighter than it did the night prior to talking with him.

…What the hell was happening to you?

You were giddy, you giggled to yourself about nothing and had to hide your mouth under the blanket so Angus wouldn’t hear you in the other room. For a moment, when asking him what he would’ve called you, you wanted him to say ‘pretty’. So much shit happened that day, but the one thing, the one thing that your mind goes back to is taking his hand, and not letting go until you realized-…

…No…

No…

Oh, what the fuck?!

Oh god!

Once you were happy about having a newfound crush on Angus Tully, and now you were in absolute agony.

What a wonderful way to spend Christmas Eve-Eve.

[corruptedcaps]

The Devil in the Details

Tasha had been working at her new job for nearly a year now and found it desperately hard to get promoted. She was smart and great at her job but the office slut Victoria always took credit for her work. Tasha didn’t speak up for fear of repercussions from Victoria and her two equally bad friends Marie and Lisa. She knew if she kept at it eventually the higher ups would notice. Tasha knew Victoria and her bitchy cohort were bad but not evil.

That changed when one night after working late at the office she overheard them in a disused conference room preparing to do some real evil. Satanic ritual evil. They had moved the table and chairs to one side and drew a pentagram on the floor. Kneeling in the unholy symbol was the queen bitch herself Victoria.

"Are you sure about this Vic? This seems a little too much even for us." Said Lisa starting to question their plan.

"Dont back out now loser, once I summon the demon and he makes me a succubus then I'll enslave our little CEO to do my bidding and we will run this place. You two will have a place by my side and can have all the money and cock you want." Victoria replied. Lisa and Marie looked at each other and smiled, liking the sound of what they were hearing.

"Now let's chant so our new lives can start." Victoria said with a wicked smile and the three began to chant in a language Tasha had never heard before. Tasha had snuck into the room and was hiding behind the mound of tables and chairs. She took out her phone and began recording. She didn't believe in magic or demons but knew this sort of thing would be worthy of a firing so she needed the proof.

As the chanting became louder Tasha felt a chill in the air then suddenly the candles surrounding the pentagram blew out. A blast of hellfire erupted in front of Victoria and there appeared a demon. He had long black horns adorn his red head and a pointed tail floated behind him with almost a mind of its own. The three women bowed before him in reverance.

"Why do mere mortals summon I, Zepar demon of lust, greed and power?" The demon snarled.

“I seek magnificent power my lord. I wish to have my body and soul corrupted into that of a succubus, one fit for an evil queen. I will be your conduit on earth for you to receive the souls of the innocent so you can grow powerful and return to earth as king.” Victoria said. Zepar looked her up and down for a moment, seemingly intrigued by her offer but then let out a deep and dark laugh.

“I have no doubt that is what you desire but my dark magic chooses the host, not the other way around. However I do detect one of you mortals are worthy of my gift. Only the one the magic chooses will become my succubus queen, the others must serve her. Do you agree to my terms?” Zepar said with a mischievous grin. Victoria smiled back at him. She knew she was the one worthy of his power. Her two friends were pathetic next to her.

“We of course accept your terms.” Victoria said. As the words left her mouth, a surge of dark energy pulsed through the room, causing the floor to tremble and the air to thicken. The candles reignited with an eerie, blue flame, casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. Victoria's eyes gleamed with anticipation as she stood, facing the demon with unwavering confidence.

Zepar extended his hand, and a swirling vortex of black smoke began to form in his palm. "Let the ritual begin." He commanded, his voice reverberating through the room. Tasha, still hidden behind the mound of furniture, felt her heart race. She knew she had to do something, but fear paralyzed her. Her phone continued recording, capturing every sinister word and action.

Victoria stretched her arms out wide, waiting for the dark magic to take her but to her and everyone's surprise it suddenly shot across the room to Tasha's hiding spot.

The black smoke enveloped Tasha, lifting her off the ground. Her body convulsed as the dark magic took hold, reshaping her form into something otherworldly yet darkly beautiful. Her eyes turned a deep, mesmerizing violet, and her tits grew fuller. Her nails elongated into elegant, sharp points, painted obsidian black and her hair cascaded down in long, dark, straight waves. Her lips became plump and enticing, a deep shade of crimson.

At first, fear gripped Tasha's mind, her thoughts a whirlwind of panic. What was happening to her? She could feel the dark magic coursing through her veins, twisting her mind. But as the transformation continued, the fear began to fade, replaced by a strange sense of superiority. This power, this strength, it was exactly what she needed to finally rise above Victoria and her cronies.

As she embraced the darkness inside of her now, two small red horns grew painfully out from the top of her head. The pain was now comforting to her, it made her feel more alive than she ever had been before.

Her boring work clothes ignited and disintegrated, replaced by tight black latex that clung to her newly transformed figure, accentuating every curve. She landed gracefully, exuding an aura of seductive power that made the air around her crackle with intensity.

Zepar's gaze shifted from Victoria to Tasha, who moved to the demon’s side with a smirk. "It seems the darkness has chosen." He declared, his voice filled with a sinister glee. Victoria's confident smile faltered, replaced by a look of shock and disbelief.

"No!" Victoria screamed, her face contorting with rage. "It was supposed to be me!" She lunged towards Tasha, but Tasha raised her hand, sending a wave of dark energy that knocked her back.

"Your ambition blinded you, Victoria." Tasha said coldly. "The power goes to the one most worthy. Me."

Tasha looked down at Victoria, Lisa, and Marie, her violet eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and newfound authority. "Kneel before your queen." She said, her voice resonating with an eerie power.

Lisa and Marie, too frightened to defy this new Tasha, immediately dropped to their knees. Victoria, seething with fury, reluctantly followed suit, her eyes blazing with hatred.

Zepar turned to Tasha, a satisfied smile on his face. "Now, my succubus queen, you shall serve as my conduit on Earth. You will gather the souls of the innocent and corrupt them into weapons for our upcoming war. Once you have, I will return and together we shall bring chaos to this world."

"I look forward to your return my king." She said, her voice purring with affection for the demon as Zephar leaned in and the two kissed deep and long.

Zepar let out a dark, triumphant laugh before he vanished in a swirl of black smoke, leaving behind the lingering scent of sulfur.

Tasha stood tall in her new form, the room now filled with an eerie silence. She turned her gaze to the three women before her, who were still on their knees, trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

Tasha's lips curled into an evil smirk. She could feel the power coursing through her veins, the dark magic making her feel invincible. She took a step closer, her heels clicking ominously on the floor. "Before you can be worthy to serve me, you need to be punished. You must learn your place, and I will ensure you never forget it." She declared, her eyes gleaming with a sadistic pleasure.

With a wave of her hand she conjured an enormous strap on that wrapped tightly to her hips. Waving her other hand, dark tendrils of magic shot out, wrapping around the three women, binding them in place. "Let's begin with you Victoria." Tasha said in dark glee.

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural characters I wish were never created or just overstayed their welcome

*Disclaimer: it's gonna be a lot of fan favorite characters. if your fav is in the list, don't mind me.. it's just my opinion.. you don't have to take my word for it.

Let's start easy, characters that overstayed their welcome

Meg 2.0: Meg 1.0 was amazing but Rachel's Meg fell flat. Didn't have the same cruel zing that Nicki brought

Castiel: you knew this was coming. His character only made sense until he exploded in the water reserve in S7. That should have been the end of it

Gabriel: his death at the end of season 5 was so amazing. He finally died for something he believed in. It was righteous. They ruined it by bringing him back

Lucifer: he was really good until they gave him this clownish character in the later seasons. He only made sense until they brought him back to kill Amara. Everything else after that was pretty annoying

Becky: didn't need her in the last season. Nuh-uh!

Characters I wish were never created

GhostFacers: sorry, were they supposed to be funny? Didn't chuckle even once. They were so annoying and did nothing for me

Bela Talbot: no seriously, why was she there apart from stealing the colt from the boys? She was narcissistic and selfish

Archangel Raphael: sorry, I could never take this guy seriously. He wasn't terrifying at all

Dick Roman: I ain't buying that he was introduced for anything other than dick jokes

Cole Trenton: this loser! He was lame, his vendetta was lame. What was he supposed to do?? Piss off demon dean? Newsflash, he was always pissed

Asmodeus: I only remember him for two things - his white suit and shedim but other than that what else??

Back from dead Mary Winchester: she added more punch when she died in the first season. She was never there for Sam, hell, she wasn't even around for Dean. She didn't add anything to the story

Sister jo: she was so annoying. God! She was another Bela Talbot but with angel grace and like all angels she was a douche

Kaia/dark Kaia, Claire Novak, Patience, Donna hanscum: ughh!

AU Bobby and Charlie: one word: why?

I know they added a lot of characters so Jared and Jensen could take some time off shooting but really these were the worst folks ever

[haetrack]

The Devil Says Hi - (LHC)

haechan x succubus!reader

wc: 8.4k (…😭)

genre: smut (minors do NOT interact!), little comedy, horror and angst

authors note: happy (early) halloween! as a little gift, i’ll be posting this early because i finished this faster than expected! i hope you guys enjoy and please leave feedback if you did!

general warnings: afab reader, religious themes (in the sense that heaven and hell exist), scratches and scars mentioned, summoning of a demon, open ending, in no way does this represent haechan

smut warnings under the read more tab!

warnings: unprotected sex, sub!haechan, dom!reader, oral sex (both receiving), handjob, humiliation and degradation, mentions of masturbation, edging, overstimulation, dirty talk, desperate and pathetic haechan, crying, cum eating, in general perverse themes (LOL)

To be fair, this wasn’t entirely his fault.

It’s finally near Halloween, and Haechan has some members over at his apartment just to hang out. Doyoung had promised to cook a meal for Haechan, and Johnny and Mark, being the people they are, forced themselves into this promise. Haechan didn’t really have an objection to them coming over, as schedules have been hard and they all needed a day off.

With the weather becoming cooler, Doyoung cooked a warm stew (Haechan’s favorite) for everyone to eat. Small conversations flowed throughout the meal, how Johnny was too immersed in his role again, how Doyoung bought a turtle plushie for Mark that Mark didn’t even want. They laugh at Haechan for his need to be taken care of in every sense. Haechan grows embarrassed, swatting them away while shoving a spoonful of broth into his mouth.

“Speaking of, ‘being taken care of,’ I was talking to Ten the other day.” Mark starts, and everyone groans at his sentence. Knowing how gullible Mark can be, Doyoung encourages him to continue while fighting back giggles.

“Ten was telling me about this, like, chant, I guess?” Mark continues, “It’s like one of those, like, creepy stories kinda.”

“Like Bloody Mary?” Johnny questions.

“Dude… you literally read my mind…” Mark reaches his hand out to Johnny, and Johnny proudly high fives him.

Haechan and Doyoung stare at the both of them, with Haechan glaring at Mark so he can hurry and finish his story.

Mark clears his throat, “Anyways, Ten said this chant thing would summon a demon.” A silence follows. “Specifically, a sex demon.” He finishes with a proud smile on his face and his pointer finger up.

No one says anything for thirty seconds.

“Who invited this guy?” Johnny laughs.

“If I remember correctly, you both invited yourselves.” Haechan deadpans.

Mark groans and slurps on his stew loudly. Haechan sarcastically comforts him, telling him to be quiet for five minutes so he can become funny again. Doyoung and Johnny laugh at their antics before Doyoung gasps out loud to announce the idea that just popped into his head.

“Let’s play rock, paper, scissors and let the loser do the chant!” Doyoung laughs at himself for such a good idea, and Mark’s nodding along to his line of thought.

“Then let’s record, too, for our fans. Like a mini vlog!” Everyone stares at Mark and his suggestion.

“What did I say about being quiet for five minutes…” Haechan comforts him again, patting his shoulder while Mark plants his head on the table.

“I say we just let Haechan do it,” Johnny grins, “he seems like he’d like it the most out of all of us.” Everyone but Haechan somehow mutually agree on this, and Haechan takes offense because what kind of freak do they take him for? He may like… some certain, specific things in bed but do they assume he would go that far?

Mark chimes up again, “I’ll send him the words he needs to say!”

“Don’t you dare send me that. I will literally throw your phone out the window!” Haechan immediately reaches for Mark’s phone and Mark deflects all of Haechan’s moves. While this is happening, Doyoung texts Ten to send him the lyrics for the chant Haechan needs to do. Johnny stares over Doyoung’s shoulder and smirks, waiting to see a text back from Ten.

Ten responds with an of course! because he’s Ten, he wouldn’t need an explanation for something like this. Doyoung copies the words and sends them to Haechan’s phone, all while Johnny’s snickering over his shoulder. Haechan hears his phone ding and immediately starts whining, knowing exactly what was just sent to his phone.

“Go ahead and do that for us once we leave.” Johnny smiles, and Doyoung laughs as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Once Mark finally catches up on what’s happening, he also ends up laughing and high fives the both of them. Haechan makes a face at the three of them, making a show of pushing his tongue into his cheek and smirking.

“I’ll only do it because I know shit like this is usually fake,” Haechan grumbles, which makes everyone laugh at him more.

Haechan wouldn’t exactly mind a demon to help him get off.

Everything finally settles. Conversation slows down, food gets finished, dishes get put away, and a movie gets put on. Doyoung dozes off a little while Mark keeps bothering Johnny with questions about the movie. Haechan is thinking to himself about the earlier conversation. So what if he’d call a sex demon?

His members' assumptions have no reflection on his true character. Yes, he may be a clingy man with a lot of needs, but that doesn’t mean he would call a whole demon to his home. He doesn’t actively talk about his sex life in front of his members, not that there really is one due to his lack of time. So maybe they’re just worried about their youngest member not being able to let off steam.

During the end of the movie, Haechan is debating between the pros and cons of potentially inviting a demon to his apartment to… fuck. Con: there would quite literally be a demon in his house. Pro: he can finally end his dry spell! This would give him an opportunity to finally step away from pathetically getting himself off to his favorite porn videos.

He doesn’t want to talk about how he has favorite porn videos. With how busy of a person he is, not to mention famous, he can’t just go out and find someone to have sex with. Especially now that he has his own apartment, he can do whatever he wants without the worry of being caught by another person. To say that he isn’t a little desperate to have something around him other than his hand isn’t a lie.

He sighs to himself, looking up and seeing that the movie had just ended. He looks around and finds Johnny getting up and stretching while Mark is gently waking up Doyoung. Haechan himself yawns and stretches while sitting down.

“I think we’re gonna head out already,” Mark says, sleepy. Haechan nods along to his words and walks them to the door.

“Don’t forget to call your lover from Hell tonight,” Johnny singsongs, which Haechan ends up just shoving him out the door.

Haechan will do what he wants. Which may or may not include inviting a demon over to have sex.

Haechan decides that maybe he does want to summon a demon.

He tries to convince himself that he’s only trying to summon a demon because he’s curious. It doesn’t have to only be for sex, maybe you guys can just talk? Can a human ask a demon how their life has been since they’ve been in Hell? Or is that inappropriate? How inappropriate of a question can that be if they’re a literal demon?

Haechan decides to see if he can research any of this.

He copies and pastes the words that were sent to him into Google to see if anything comes up. To his surprise, only a few articles and ugh, Reddit posts show up. The articles that show up are about other sex demons (which he now learns are called succubi and incubi), and only briefly mention the words that were given to him. He groans when he realizes that the Reddit posts might actually be of help to him.

To his disappointment, the first Reddit article that he clicks on genuinely does help him. It confirms that whoever he’s summoning is a succubus. You are one of the lesser known succubi, but apparently one of the more powerful ones. You have no preference in who you choose to be with, but everyone who tries to summon you should be warned.

Haechan reads this and thinks for a little bit. Would he really try to sacrifice his life in order to sleep with a pretty demon? Maybe. Plus, the post doesn’t even say if his life would be in danger if he were to summon you. Just a be warned. Maybe all he’ll get from this is some good sex and the best sleep of his life.

He decides to ponder on it a bit more.

He gets ready to go to bed. He does his small nighttime routine. He makes sure his door is locked and that everything in his apartment is turned off. He washes up and changes into his pajamas, which consist of a simple shirt and shorts. He stares at himself in the mirror, realizing that he could summon you right now if he wanted to. He instead walks out of his restroom and goes to lay down.

He scrolls on Instagram for a little bit with nothing really in mind. Although he’s trying to focus on this cover of a song he likes, his mind can’t stop wandering. All his thoughts are leading back to you. What you might look like, how you might talk, how you might feel around him. He feels a familiar feeling set at the bottom of his stomach.

With his mind running on impulse to just fuck and breed, he decides to get up and go back to his restroom. He stands in front of the mirror, memorizes the last of the words, and turns off the light. For good measure, he doesn’t lock the door in case he needs to run out. He turns his phone off and faces himself once again. He opens his mouth and begins reciting.

After he’s finished, he feels like his whole apartment feels quieter than usual. The air in the room feels colder, but his face feels hotter. He stands there for two minutes, waiting for you to crawl out his mirror and immediately start fucking him. Unfortunately, none of that happens and now he’s embarrassed, standing in his restroom half-hard.

Before he goes to leave the restroom, a chill passes through him. He brushes it off, assuming that it’s all just a coincidence.

You feel it. You feel so alive. Someone has summoned you.

It’s been awhile. You’re aware that out of most of your fellow succubi, you’re one of the least called ones. You don’t really mind though, you know that you’re the best at your job. Everyone that you get with begs to be with you forever, and you lead them on, letting them sit in the guilt of knowing they landed themselves in Hell. No energy or pleasure you get from sex compares to the look of guilt sitting on someone's pretty face.

When you had first heard this man summoning you, you could feel he was desperate. You could feel yourself tingle in delight at the thought of ruining this person's life. You watch him through your dimension looking embarrassed assuming that the spell didn’t work. How wrong he was.

You waited until he left the room. You waited hours more to make sure he was sleeping. Playing the long game was important to you. His desperation filled you with excitement. How much cuter could a human be? Would he beg for you, cry your name out, keep going until he knows you’re satisfied? Will he be willing to risk his life just at the possibility of being able to fuck you?

You decide it’s time. You open a portal to his world through his mirror. You slip through it and stand tall. You peek through the door to see him peacefully sleeping, not knowing that there’s an evil spirit looming around the corner. You step in, already feeling small waves of energy hitting you. He’s hard in his sleep. You want to laugh at how pathetic this man seems, and you’ve seen some pathetic men before.

You stand in the corner of the room, wondering exactly how to wake him up. You decide on giving him a small scare. You go through your plan one more time in your head before you start.

You start off with small taps on his bedroom door. You see him stir in his sleep. You tap harder and harder. He wakes up slowly, groaning before sitting up. You make yourself invisible, out of his sight. Before even checking his room to see what was producing the sounds, he looks down into his lap and sighs. He rubs a hand over the obvious tent in his shorts and squeezes.

He gets up and looks around. You tap on his door one last time, harder and louder than the rest. He snaps his head towards the door and stands there. After a few heavy breaths, he makes his way to the door. Sure that you’re out of sight, you head to his bed to lay down on it. You watch as he braces himself before opening his door, looking around to see if anyone was there.

He checks a little longer before accepting that no one’s there and closes the door. He turns around and sees you, laying right on top of the bed he was just sleeping in.

In shock, he falls back onto the door and scrambles on the floor. “How did you- what- who are you?” he sputters out.

“I know you already know what I am. Think a little harder, baby, you know what my name is.”

As if Haechan has known for all his life, your name flashes through his head. He lets it consume him, he can taste your name on his tongue. Your name repeats in his head like a mantra, and he whispers it out to you. You smile at him, “That’s correct. Now tell me, what exactly should I call you?”

He looks at you dazed, his body language shows he’s still nervous, but he responds with, “Haechan.”

“Don’t lie to me, pretty boy. That’s what everyone calls you, hm? Tell me the name that only I can call you.” You’re trying to see how easy it is to get him to trust you, to fall under your spell. As soon as the name “Lee Donghyuck” falls from his lips, you know he’ll be willing to let go of his entire life for you.

To make this more fun, you decide to move where he’s sat on the floor. You crawl over to him slowly, trying to build anticipation. The closer you get to him, the more energy you can feel radiating off of him. Poor Donghyuck, still so horny after being almost scared to death.

He shudders when he feels your breath on his neck, lips placed centimeters away from his skin. He whines out, nonverbally begging you to touch him. “How are you still so hard after having someone like me in your home? How desperate are you for this?”

He arches his upper body to try to get at least one part of his body touching you, apparently too embarrassed to admit that you’re right. He wasn’t expecting you to look so… humanly? You look like any normal person in a Halloween costume. A short, pretty dress adorns your body and horns sit atop of your head. You see he’s more focused on your body than your question, so you grab his chin in order to get him to look at you, “Answer my questions and I’ll give you everything that you want.”

He takes note of your gold, glowing eyes. “I- I want this. I want this so bad.”

You grin at how easy it was for him to get out of his shell in order to get some pussy, and you decide to tease him on it. “My baby’s so desperate to get his dick wet. Can’t wait to make you my little bitch,” you say before pulling him into a heavy kiss.

He tries to keep up with you, moaning into your mouth once you place yourself in his lap. Once he feels how warm you are on top of him, he breaks away from the kiss in order to wantonly moan out. You direct your kisses to his jaw down to his neck, messily leaving marks where you please.

He’s well aware that the one thing he shouldn’t do during all of this is let you leave marks where any one of his fans could see. Something inside of him tells him it’s okay, he’s yours, you’re allowed to do this to him.

You go to take off his shirt when his hands grab your wrists, his eyes looking at yours with uncertainty. You put on a gentle face, “Let me see all of my baby, I’ll make sure to ruin every single inch of your body.”

He subconsciously ruts his hips up to yours, and you can feel how hard he is. He’s a good size, and the thought of him filling you up nicely urges you to continue.

His hands shoot to your waist, but you rip them from your sides and force them on both sides of his body. You take off his shirt and you marvel at the sight of him. You can tell he’s feeling embarrassed, but his dick twitching beneath you begs you to praise him. “What a pretty body for such a pretty guy, you’re everything I could’ve ever asked for in a human.”

He lurches in to continue kissing you, and you happily reciprocate his desperate actions.

While kissing him, you begin to explore his chest with your hands. You run your nails along every section, feeling his skin jump underneath your touch. You bring your hands up to his chest and pinch his nipples. His whole body jumps at your ministrations and he whimpers loudly. You feel your body go hot, a reaction like this never failing to amaze you.

You continue your attack on his nipples, and you begin to slowly grind on him. Slow enough to tease him and give him a taste of what's to come. Apparently, this deems too much for Donghyuck all at once and he cries out, “Please stop, I’m about to cum!”

This only spurs you on more, “Can my baby cum just like this? With just some touches and dry humping? Gonna show me how much of a depraved loser you are?”

He just lets whimpers out, hands gripping onto his shorts to ground him. “I’m gonna cum, please let me cum, I wanna cum so bad- please!”

You remove yourself completely from him, choosing to sit back on your heels to watch his already fucked out form. There’s tears in his eyes, his face and ears are flushed, and drool slips from his lips. Your eyes move down to his lap to see a wet spot in front of his shorts that you know did not come from you. There’s a thin layer of sweat across his face that makes him glow in the darkness of his room.

He looks up at you bleakley, and you smile sweetly at him. “You didn’t think I would let you cum that easy, right?” You laugh and he just squirms around in his spot, “Why don’t we move to your bed already? I promise I’ll treat you a lot better.”

You suppress your giggles when you see him walk over with his hands clasped over his bulge as if you weren’t just sitting on it. You lay back against his headboard, and beckon him to sit in between your legs. He sits with his back against you just a little too easily for a demon that he just summoned. He can feel your chest press behind him, which causes warmth to spread throughout his body once again.

You murmur against his shoulder, “My Donghyuck, why don’t you tell me what you need…” He hangs his head down low and whines. You can tell from the kind of person he is that he wouldn’t mind begging, so why isn’t he doing it now? “Do you really think you can be such a brat to someone like me? Hurry up and spit out what you want before I leave you here alone.”

He grips your thigh and looks back at you. You let his touch slide, curious as to what he’ll do next. He sounds ashamed of how his body feels right now, “It’s not that! I just… I don’t want to disappoint you with how fast I might cum…”

“My easy baby, the angels made you just for me… we have all night for me to take care of you… just wait.” You face him front again and you place a tender kiss on his shoulder.

“I’m not easy! I usually don’t cum fast but when you-” a gasp cuts him off as you take his hand on your thigh and trail it to his bulge. You start by making him palm himself over his shorts, whispering in his ear how big he feels and how bad you want him. You encourage him to continue while taking your hand away from his, bringing it back up to his chest. He tries to move his body away, but you force him back into place.

You slowly trail your fingers across his nipples just to get him sensitive once more, and he feeds into it. You see his hand move faster against himself, moving up and down and squeezing at the tip. How can someone feel this needy to the point where touching himself over his shorts was enough to get off?

You can tell he starts getting impatient, his usual habits from his own masturbation sessions begin to take over. You can see his eyes shut and his eyebrows furrow, his hand moves down to squeeze his balls to try to slow himself down. He lets out a drawn out moan and you whisper in his ear to slow down.

You can tell he heard you by the shake of his head, but he continues to get himself off when you’re right behind him. “I thought you brought me here to help you get off, but you’re doing all the work?” He nods again, his arm working harder to bring himself to an orgasm.

You’re honestly surprised, nothing like this has happened to you in all of your years. He throws his head back onto your shoulders and brings a hand up to one of his nipples. What an interesting human. His loud moans and whimpers are sent straight to your ears and you need to quickly shut him up.

You bring a hand up to his bottom lip to trace it. You whisper a suck into his ear and stick two fingers in his mouth. He responds immediately, mouth sucking and tongue licking the entirety of your fingers. You inwardly moan at the sight of him sprawled out over you, a sweaty mess of a man giving himself the utmost pleasure.

You can feel him get closer to cumming, energy radiating off of him to the point where you can feel it seep into your skin. An idea crosses your mind. Right on the brink of his orgasm, you whisper once more in his ear. “You’ll stop for me won’t you? You’ll wait for me to cum, too?”

He can feel you smiling, teasing him for long forgetting about you. He knows how pathetic he looks right now, getting himself off when there’s a literal sex demon behind him, but he can’t help it. A small part of him likes how he gets treated when he’s like this, getting made fun of for being so depraved. In normal circumstances, he’d let himself cum and move on. But tonight, you’re right there, your pretty voice telling him to wait.

Going against what he really wants, he chooses to follow you instead. He gives himself one last stroke before tearing his hands away from himself. He’s whining for you to help him, to let him get what he wants. There’s tears pricking his eyes you can tell he’s dangerously close to crying.

You coo at him, shushing him and telling him it’s okay. You sit up some more and bring his face to yours, kissing him and taking all that you want from him. “Are you ready to help me out, baby?” and he looks at you with an almost shocked expression. You raise an eyebrow at him, and sensing he might’ve done something wrong, he tries to explain himself.

“It’s just… I have gotten off yet and… maybe you can help me first?” You outwardly laugh at him, which makes him cower and grow embarrassed once again.

“This whole time it’s been about you,” you giggle, “and you still want me to help you!?” Never have you seen someone as desperate as Donghyuck. You’ve brought him so close to cumming twice already, and he thinks that he should still get even more. Someone never taught him that good actions get him rewards. Through his embarrassment, you see him grow frustrated. This is where things start to get fun.

“Well I summoned you here in the first place,” he argues, “so you should be the one listening to me!”

You tut at him, “I didn’t know my sweet boy could be so bratty. What would you do if I said I didn’t want to touch you anymore?” You challenge him, trying to see how hard you can push his buttons.

“I’ll just get myself off!” He immediately gets to work. His hand goes back down to his dick with rapid strokes. You can see he’s already worked up from before, breathy moans escape his mouth when he teases his tip.

You sit and watch with enjoyment. As much as he’s trying to show that he doesn’t need you, you can tell that he’s growing frustrated. Frustrated that it doesn’t feel as good as you, frustrated that you won’t sit on his dick already, frustrated that he’s been on edge for so long. He opens his eyes to see you watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to break. What really gets to him though is how he can see that you’re squeezing your thighs together, your breath growing heavy.

He whines your name out, and you’re ready to jump in. “You ready? I’ve been waiting for my Donghyuck to help me out.” You slip off your dress and lay back onto his bed. You spread your legs, showing him just how wet you’ve gotten from watching him. It’s like he immediately forgets what he was just doing and reaches for you. You smile at him, “You know what you did wrong. If you want to help me, you’ll sit right there until I tell you to.”

He’s about to complain before he sees you spread yourself apart on full display for him. He sits back on his knees with his hands on his thighs. You bring your fingers to where you’re most sensitive, ready to put on a show for Donghyuck. Even if you pretend that you didn’t want Donghyuck doing this for you, you would much rather have him in between your thighs doing all the work. You moan at the sight of him staring a hole into you, his hands gripped tightly on his thighs.

You taunt him, “I wonder how much you’d be able to help me out. When was the last time you’ve eaten pussy? Are you even good?”

You see his dick twitch at your harsh words and he forces his hands to stay put. He’s gasping for air, somehow already seeming fucked out. Despite his struggle for breath, he manages out, “Please let me help you… I’ll do everything you want me to…”

Grinning at his words, you respond, “Anything? Then come here.” Before he can properly react, you reach up and grab him by the hair. He lets out a high-pitched moan that satisfies every inch of your being. You place him right in front of where you need him most. He grabs both of your thighs in his hands and looks up at you with a dazed look in his eye, licking a strip from bottom to top.

He focuses on your clit, trying to gauge what makes you feel best. Once he finds a good rhythm, he burns it into his memory. He’s so messy, so desperate to get you off so he can get off. He brings a finger up to your entrance, looking up at you so he can get the go ahead. You pat his head, and he slides his finger into you. It’s tight, warm, and everything Donghyuck could’ve wished for. Thinking about how he’ll get to be in you spurs him on to be as good as he can for you.

As best as he can with a mouth full of pussy, he says, “Tell me how good I’m doing… tell me how good I make you feel…”

“Making me feel so good,” you gasp when his finger finds that sweet spot inside of you, “I want to keep my good boy all to myself.”

He whimpers at your words, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. You remove your hands from his hair and bring them up to your chest to fondle and toy with them. As much as Donghyuck wants to complain from the lost pressure, he looks up and finds something better.

Better than any porn he’s watched, better than any pornstar he’s ever seen, there you are, pleasuring yourself because of how good he’s making you feel. He has to take a few seconds away from you in order to gasp, unknowingly starting to grind against his bed. You manage to open your eyes to look down at him, his cheeks red from your thighs rubbing against them. His hair is disheveled from how hard you were gripping it. He feels like he’s been rewarded with a beautiful being laid on top his bed, waiting for him to continue.

He plunges one more finger into you, curling them inside you in order to prod against that spot. His tongue does small circles around your clit in order to get you to cum, and he feels like he’s getting you there. All that he can hear in his room are your breathy gasps and moans accompanied by his own moans and the sounds of eating you out. He feels as though he can cry right between your thighs, nothing in his life seeming better than being here right now.

You can feel pleasure radiating off of him. You quickly find the source: his hips desperately humping against his bed. You’re not quite sure if he’s aware of it or not, but you assume that he isn't if both hands are on you. Either way, the sight of him still seeking out pleasure spurs you on, bringing you right to the edge of your orgasm.

“Is my baby g-gonna make me cum? Is he giving me everything I need?” You let your hands fall back to his hair, pushing him as close as you can get him. He’s moaning into your core, fingers twitching inside of you as he tries to control his own thoughts. His thoughts are so loud you can hear them, begging for you to finish so he can hurry and fill you up.

You do just that. With one last suckle on to your clit, you arch up into the pleasure and cry his name out. He helps you ride out your orgasm, removing his fingers from you and lapping at your entrance. You sit up and look down at him, slightly pushing his head away before he can overstimulate you. He’s about to bring his fingers up to his mouth to clean them off, but you grab his wrist and shove them into your mouth.

How he would give everything up in order to feel your mouth on him. Your tongue separates his pointer and middle finger apart, and he can feel himself drooling a little. You take a peek at him, and his eyes are glazed over. Another time, you suppose. You take his fingers out of his mouth with a pop! and wait for him to respond. He's openly staring at his fingers, and you have to snap him out of his daze.

“Donghyuck, are you ready for your reward?” He nods frantically, his body feeling like it could explode at any minute. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“I need- no, I want you. I want you so bad that it’s physically hurting me.” he answers immediately with a whiny tone, He groans and you giggle at him. He’s been edged two (three if you count him being bratty) times, so he has to be willing to do anything. You decide to ask him the big question.

“Will you top?” He whips his head towards you with a shocked look. He has huh!? written all over his face. He was half expecting you to just pin him down to the bed and start riding him until he cries, but you ask him to do the impossible.

In normal circumstances, Donghyuck would happily agree and do all the work. He doesn’t mind being a service top every once in a while. But here… he knows as soon as he enters you, he might immediately cum on the spot. Knowing that he’ll feel your velvety walls around him while having to be the one that’s moving… he’s scared. But there’s an evil voice inside of him telling him how good it would feel to hear your voice telling him how pathetic he is.

You can hear his internal dialogue just by looking at his face. He tells you a small yes and you grin. You pull him into a kiss where you let him decide the pace. You want to get him confident in his moves, just so you can break it all down again. He pulls you onto his lap and holds the back of your upper thighs.

Seemingly feeling good with familiar territory, he moves you in order to get you to grind slowly on his thigh. You appreciate the effort and let a small moan escape your mouth. He takes this as a sign for him to move on. He slides you off of him and onto your back. He takes a moment to look at you laid across his bed, and if you were a real person, he thinks he would’ve fallen in love with you on the spot. You look so sweet despite the way you’ve been treating him, and all he wants to do is take care of you.

He’s taken out of his sudden love-trance by his twitching dick telling him he’s been on edge for too long. He takes a deep breath before moving on top of you.

“I’m ready for my baby to fill me up,” and you reach out to him to stroke his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch as if this is something you both always do. He remembers reading in a Reddit post about unprotected demon sex (which at the time he didn’t take seriously) saying that there should be no worries of pregnancy because of spiritual differences.

This will be the first time he’s ever gone in raw with someone. He’s nervous, but knowing that you have more experience than he does calms him down.

You reach up at him to plant a soft kiss to his lips, and he looks at you with determined eyes. He aligns himself up with you, and slowly pushes himself in.

He’s never felt like this before. The only way he can describe this feeling is like Heaven. Once his tip is in, he has to stop and take some breaths. His head falls to your shoulder and you try your best not to laugh. You moan softly into his ear and beg him to continue.

He stutters out a wait as he tries to get used to the feeling. He feels like his nerves are on fire. No matter how many times he’s cum with his own hand, nothing could’ve ever prepared him for this. He clenches his teeth and pushes in a little further.

He already feels like he can cum just like this, halfway in you. You watch him in his currently fucked out state, and you try to be patient, you really do, but he’s taking way too long. You bring your legs to rest atop of his back and bring him closer, effectively making him bottom out. This was unexpected for him, and with a loud moan, it’s taking every muscle in his body in order to stop himself from cumming too fast.

This is exactly what you wanted. He’s already shaking, his head planted on your shoulder. He’s drooling, mumbling incoherent words into your ear along the lines of so sensitive, feels so good. As much as you like seeing him like this, this isn’t just about him. You whisper in his ear, “You better start moving, baby.”

He all but whines into your ear, “C-can’t. You feel– fuck– too good. If I move, I’ll cum.”

With a sigh, you say, “That’s my job, pretty boy.” Your hands move up along his abdomen and up to his chest. Your thumbs trace each nipple before giving them a hard squeeze. His whole body suddenly jumps, his hips pushing himself deeper into you, and he cums. You feel warmth spread through you, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as you feel Donghyuck ride his orgasm out.

On his end, his eyes are tightly shut and his ears are ringing. He’s not sure how loud he’s being right now, but he knows he’s moaning. His hips move on their own, small thrusts into you that he’s unaware he’s even doing. He could die right now and still be the happiest man on Earth. Your warm walls envelop him, tightly sucking him in. He can’t help but grip harshly onto your hips, not caring how hard he does it. There’s nothing in his mind but you.

“Thank you… thank you so much…” Much to your dismay, he’s slowing down and you can feel him begin to soften in you. He couldn’t possibly think this could be over as soon as he’s cum and you haven’t. You grab him by the shoulders and force him to hold himself up once more. He’s still in his post-orgasm state, eyes dazed over and lips swollen.

You smile sweetly at him and you lightly slap his cheek to get his attention, “We aren’t done until I say we are.”

He looks at you confusedly before feeling you tug again on his nipples. His hips jut forward into you, and he lets out a loud whimper. “Just give me a s-second, please!”

You shake your head no and continue your attack on his chest. His hips keep moving on their own and you feel it, the perfect mix of pain and pleasure radiating off of him. “You like how much it hurts? You like showing me how much of a pain slut you are?”

All he can do is nod at your words as he pounds into you, the stinging pain of overstimulation bleeds into pleasure. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes, his arms are shaking trying to hold himself up. You’re so perfect, no matter the harsh words that fall from your mouth or the grip your pussy has on him, all he wants to do is please you.

He doesn’t know how long he can last.

You feel his tip hitting deep inside of you, the pleasure building up quickly inside of you. He continues to ram into you despite how sensitive he feels, either from wanting to be good for you or to make up for all the times he couldn’t have sex. You can feel yourself becoming undone, that spot inside of you being hit perfectly and your clit being rubbed messily by his thumb. Your nails dig into his back, leaving scratches and one symbol.

You’re about to cum when suddenly, he pulls out of you and cums on your thighs. His mouth is open, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed. Feelings of frustration bubble at the back of your throat but before you decide on anything, “Clean me.”

He shakes himself from his daze to look up at you, cheeks pink while a small what? escapes his heart-shaped lips. “You heard me. Clean up the mess you made.”

He stares down at your cum-ridden thighs and lets out a small whimper. Humiliation. Degradation. To have himself wrapped around your finger, made to do whatever you asked of him.

He moves down to your thighs and stares. This was his mark on you. He feels his body heat up, and despite having cum two times, he can feel himself getting hard again. This is what he likes most. He looks up at you through his eyelashes and he sees you smirking, clearly satisfied with how he can move past his own embarrassment to please you.

He darts his tongue out and licks. It’s not a horrible feeling, just… different. He can’t lie and say he hasn’t tasted his own cum after jerking off. But to have you here, laying on his bed while licking up your thighs, it’s something he would do over and over again if it meant keeping you here.

Once he’s done, you make sure he’s swallowed everything. You laugh at him for being such a pervert and you can see the effect your words have on him. He’s still hard. You can’t believe a person like him can exist, and you want to keep him forever to yourself. “Now that you’ve had your fun, I think it’s my turn now.”

With all the strength from the energy you’ve gained from his orgasms, you push him down onto his bed and straddle him. He doesn’t even look shocked anymore, willingly letting you do whatever you please. You line up his dick to your entrance and slide down. You can feel him a lot better when you’re on top, how perfectly he fits inside of you. You look down at him, his chest arched up and face scrunched up, “My perfect baby, made just to be my little sex toy.”

You start slow. This is all about you now. You grind yourself slowly onto him, feeling your clit rub deliciously on his pelvis. His hands are gripped onto the sheets, and you decide it’s finally time that he gets to touch you properly. You bring his hands up to your chest and his eyes shoot open. He looks at your boobs, and squeezes. In pure ecstasy, his hips push up into you on their own. What a simple man.

With added stimulation to your nipples, you begin to ride him. You almost pull out of him with just the tip inside before you slam back down. He moves his body in order to try to help you but you stop him. Instead of letting his hands rest on your boobs, you grab them by the wrist and pin them above his head. “I don’t need your help. All you were supposed to do was lay here and be my little toy, but you couldn’t even do that.”

He looks up to you with begging eyes. Instead of asking for forgiveness, his eyes beg you to punish him. You can only smile. You restart with a harsh pace to where only the sound of sex echoes in the room. Loud, incessant whines from Donghyuck fill the room, and the sounds of him only make you want to work harder.

“Are you gonna let me fuck you into Hell, let me fuck you so hard that you’ll land a spot right next to me?” He’s shaking his head no, but he’s stuttering out yes. He tells you how bad he wants to be yours, how good you feel. You see tears begin to slip out of his eyes which causes your own hips to move faster. You bend down to reach his face, your tongue slipping out and licking up his tears, “My baby tastes so good.”

At the feeling of your warm tongue on his face, he grips onto your horns and you groan. He can feel how wet you are, your slick and his cum from before slipping out of you and making a mess on him. He loves how this feels, being treated like gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. The messiness of it all, how mean you are, how much you seem like you couldn’t care less. It only brings him closer to cumming.

“You’re mine, you know that? You were made for me and only for me.” He moans out a yes, only yours, want to be yours and you just fuck him harder. He’s hitting that spot inside of you with such precision to where you consider keeping him forever.

“Let me stay with you,” he’s crying again, “I want to be with you forever.” You smile at him, trying to seem like you’re debating on saying yes. You don’t plan on answering him, waiting to see how he might fall apart without you.

“Please let me be with you, come live with me and I’ll let you use me whenever.” The thought of using him almost makes a yes spill out of your lips, and that scares you. When have you ever thought of being with a human?

You push this thought at the back of your mind and focus on the now. Donghyuck splayed under you, cursing and moaning how he never wants this to end, tears slipping out and hips jutting in you. He brings his hands up to your boobs again, groping and squeezing around them. “L-let’s cum together, wanna cum with you.”

How can you deny him when he asks so sweetly? “Whatever my baby wants, he can get.”

Hearing the sweet nickname, he fills you up and whimpers out an I love you.

He decides this time that he’ll focus on you, bringing his hand to your clit and rubbing small, messy circles into you. You wrap his arms around your waist and pull yourself to his face, kissing him. It’s messy, drool falling down both your chins, tongues moving without thought behind them. It feels so good, so intimate, that you can’t help but fall for his touch.

After you cum, you see that he’s passed out under you. You remove yourself from him. He’s still breathing, so no, you didn’t accidentally fuck him to death. You did take quite a lot of energy from him, though. You pick up his shorts from before and maneuver them back onto him.

When you heard him say I love you, it felt as if your world stopped. Did he mean it? Was he only saying it because he was so close to cumming? He did say that he’d want to be with you forever, and you can’t say that you would mind that. You have enough power to make something happen.

Before you go, you whisper into his ear, “Wherever you go, I’ll always find you.”

Haechan wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed. It feels as though last night never happened, only occurring in his dreams.

Despite how strenuous last night was for him, he doesn't feel sore or tired. He does feel pain on his back, but he’ll check on that later. One moment, he’s laying in bed feeling content, and in another, he feels alone. Even though he only knew you for that short amount of time, he feels more connected to you than anyone he’s known before. An unknown feeling of sorrow weighs in on him, knowing you don’t really exist in the way he wants you to.

Before he gets too sad at the thought of you, he gets up and walks to his bathroom. He does his little routine in the restroom, and before leaving, he decides to check that spot that’s hurting.

He turns around and lets his back face the mirror. On his right shoulder, he sees your initials scratched onto him. It’s freshly healed with a circle around it. Did you… brand him?

He’s filled with different emotions all at once. One, that’s kinda hot. The thought of him being practically owned by a demon, specifically you, makes the back of his neck feel warm. Secondly, he’s reminded of his previous sadness. You were right there with him last night, and there’s a big chance he’ll never be able to see you again. Third, which is probably the most important, he’s filled with dread.

He may or may not have said things last night that would’ve gotten him in trouble. Yes to being owned by you, yes to being fucked into hell, yes to meeting you in every lifetime. In his defense, he thought it was all dirty talk that usually happens during sex. He wouldn’t have known it was ever really, especially if he was pussy drunk. He can’t say he would really mind this happening, wanting to see you one more time.

Months pass. The scratches fade into scars that he tries to forget about. One comeback passes and he’s currently in the middle of promoting another. He’s with his 127 members this time. He remembers the day after you and him had sex, he told his members what had happened. Of course, they all made fun of him, assuming it was a wet dream. He grumbled to himself that he had proof, but it probably wasn’t best to show his members some demon scratches.

It’s one day after a schedule where him and his members are ready to go to their respective homes. He finds himself feeling more tired today despite the fact that they won at a music show. They all get ready to leave into their assigned cars outside. He’s aware that some fans will be waiting for them outside, so he shakes off his fatigue and puts on a bright face. They walk outside and hear their names being called out. He nods in their general direction. Until he hears one call of his name.

Not Haechan, but Donghyuck. He knows some fans call him by his real name, but this one feels special. He feels it course throughout his body, the sound of the voice getting stuck in his brain. He whips his head in the direction he heard it and sees you, standing behind a group of fans. You’re smiling at him, and he knows it's you. He feels it’s you. Your smile, your eyes, your voice calling out to him. It’s all too familiar.

“Donghyuck,” you whisper, “I’ve found you.”

a/n: this became way longer than i expected but i hope you all ENJOYYY i love my sweet haechan

tag list: @crzns

[in-my-feels-probably]

Getting drunk with sirius and seeing who can go the longest without touching the other

Feeling

Request: Getting drunk with sirius and seeing who can go the longest without touching the other

Hi! I love this request, it’s such a cute idea. Thank you for sending it in. Sorry it’s a little short. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, underage drinking, let me know if i missed anything)

—

“Merlin, get a room, you two!” James groaned, scrunching his nose up at the sight of you and Sirius. 

His voice was drowned out by the sound of your friends laughing as you covered your face. Your cheeks were burning, although that probably had more to do with the firewhiskey in your cup than the embarrassment from having all your friends snicker at you. Your friends were starting to feel the effects of the firewhiskey too, in a giggly haze. You were sitting on top of Sirius’s lap, his cheeks pink and his eyes glazed. His arms were secure tight around your waist, his cheek leaning against your arm. 

“Piss off,” Sirius laughed, looking up at you with a smile as he ran his finger under the hem of your shirt to trace his fingers along the base of your spine. “You’re just jealous. I’ve got the prettiest girl in the room.”

Lily, Marlene, and Mary feigned offense, though they didn’t take it personally. You did, however, slapping his shoulder. 

“Be nice! Don't say things that aren’t true so loudly.”

Sirius nuzzled into your side, gazing up at you with genuine adoration. “It’s true to me, my dear.”

Your eyes softened at his words, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. The girls cooed, making a fuss over the pair of you. The boys weren’t as easily impressed, however, groaning at the sight of their friend so love struck. 

“You’re ruining the game,” James whined, gesturing to your friends. “Pay attention, Pads. It’s your turn next.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “Good luck getting him to pay attention long enough to take it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius challenged, raising a brow. 

“It means,” Remus said, leaning in with a smirk on his face. “That you two can’t keep your hands off each other for longer than a minute, let alone long enough to sit through the entire game.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Lily grinned, gesturing to his arms secured around your waist. 

Sirius looked down at his hands, before looking up at you apprehensively. You smiled down at him, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. He groaned, lessening his hold. 

“You do make it hard, darling,” he said, releasing you. “But I will not be accosted by these two dickheads. What do you say? Can we make it the whole game?”

You grinned, promptly standing up from his lap. You placed yourself snug in between James and Remus, cooing when Sirius’s face turned into a pout.

“Don’t sulk, love. It is only temporary,” you said, smirking when your friends watched you with curious eyes. “I’ve got a game of my own.”

“Go on,” Sirius mused, already feeling himself wanting to reach for you. 

“We’ll beat their little game, that’s for sure. You lot can piss off if you think we’ll break that quickly.”

“We’ll see,” Remus said into his cup, taking a swig of his firewhiskey. “Five galleons on you losing, though. What’s your game, then?”

You set your hazy eyes on Sirius, feeling yourself warm as he looked back at you. It should be illegal for a man to look that pretty. It almost made you want to take back your proposition. But if there was going to be a game, it would be a game of your design. 

And you’d win.

“We’ll refrain from touching each other for the rest of the game. And after, we’ll see which of the two of us cracks first. Whoever caves and touches the other first is the loser.”

“Is there a consequence for losing? Anything at risk?” Sirius asked with eyes full of curiosity.

“Only your pride.” 

Your words made his grin widen, and he nodded, accepting your challenge. “You’re on, darling. I hope you’re prepared to lose.”

“In your dreams, Black.”

Mary grinned, clapping her hands together. “Alright! Let’s keep playing.”

—

You and Sirius worked together, successfully winning the bet your friends held against each other, much to their displeasure.

Amongst the sour faces, James was still grinning. “We may have lost our game, but one of them will lose theirs. I say Sirius caves first.”

“What? Why?” Sirius asked, whining. 

You laughed, patting James on the shoulder. “Thank you, James. It’s good to know someone believes in me.”

Marlene and Mary nodded, agreeing with James. But Lily shook her head, looking at you with uncertainty. Remus had the same look on his face. 

“You don’t think I can do it?” You asked, your question directed at Lily.

“I don’t think either of you can do it, but especially not you. You’re both ridiculously stubborn, but I think it’ll be you who caves first. You subconsciously reach for him after a while, it probably won’t even be an outright decision. You love him too much to hold out.” 

Remus nodded, agreeing. “All you gotta do is pay attention, Sirius. And do pay attention. I’m putting five galleons on you.” 

“I’ll take that bet. Five galleons on Y/N,” James grinned, holding his hand out for Remus to shake. 

They shook on it, and you rolled your eyes. Your friends had little faith in you. If they were getting money out of this, then you had to get something out of it, too. It’s not as if it would negatively affect Sirius. He had enough money that it wouldn’t matter how much he gave up. The only thing he’d be losing is his pride. And that seemed like a very fair price. 

“I think we should put money on it, Sirius. Whoever loses owes the other something from Hogsmeade the next time we go.”

Sirius had already begun wanting to give up the game entirely. He wanted you back in his lap, with his arms around your waist. But your friends were watching, and he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. 

He nodded, leaning back into the couch cushions. “You’re on, darling. Prepare to lose.”

Marlene looked between the two of you, nearly rolling her eyes. “You both talk a big game. Let’s play another round and see how it goes, yeah?”

You nodded, and everyone continued on, getting progressively tipsier. 

—

You had all had your fill, and by end of the second round, the girls were beginning to yawn. Lily rubbed her eyes, standing up from where she was sitting. 

“Alright, I’m off to bed. You’ll have to let me know who won tomorrow. Goodnight,” she said, waving to everyone as she began climbing the stairs to her dorm. 

Mary nodded, reaching for Marlene as she stood. “Us too, darling. I don’t fancy falling asleep on this couch for all the first years to see us in the morning.”

“Me either,” Remus said, clapping Sirius on the shoulder before standing up too. “Good luck, mate.”

James scoffed, standing up and clapping you on the shoulder as well. “You all have no faith. Good luck, Y/N. I better be five galleons richer in the morning.”

You saluted him, letting him pass you to go up the stairs. “Yes sir. I’ll do my best.”

“Attagirl,” he called down the steps, before you heard the sound of a door closing. 

When they were all gone, you turned to Sirius. He was looking at you with hazy eyes, a grin plastered on his face. Like it was second nature, you scooted closer to him, wanting to be as close as you could be without actually touching him.

He groaned when he noticed, dramatically scooting away. “Stop it! You’re not going to win.”

“Might as well give it up now. You know you’re going to cave first.”

Sirius pouted, and you smiled, watching him intently. He looked tired. You grabbed the pillow next to you, tossing it into his lap. You laid back, letting your head rest against it.

He tensed up, raising his hands. “Is this not cheating?”

“It may be,” you smiled up at him. “But I’m not touching you, and you’re not touching me.”

“Feels like cheating.”

You groaned, sitting up. “It was a joke, darling. The pillow is for you, you look tired. Lay down.”

He grinned, tossing the pillow into your lap and laying his head down. You tried to hide your smile, letting him settle himself. Once he stilled, he looked up at you with unsure eyes. 

“What is it, love?” You asked, making him sigh. 

“This is remarkably less fun without your hand in my hair.”

You let out a laugh, nodding. “I agree. Should we do something about that?”

He said nothing, only gazing up at you. You took this time to look at him, really look at him. He was fucking stunning. So pretty, it actually hurt to look at him. And he was looking up at you with hazy eyes and pink cheeks, so adorable that you felt like you could burst into tears just looking at him. You were seconds away from caving, when he drew you from your thoughts.

It was his turn to ask now. “What is it?”

You sighed, hovering a finger just over the tip of his nose. “You’re beautiful, do you know that? So beautiful.” 

Sirius flushed a deeper pink, stilling as you ran your finger mere centimeters above his features. You traced them in the air, starting with his nose before moving to his eyes. Then over his cheekbones, and down to his chin. As you skimmed over his lips, Sirius let out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. 

“Don’t make a fuss,” he said, raising a hand. “Just let me do this.”

Gently, he took hold of your hand, pressing your finger down to meet his cheek. He sighed in relief, and you smiled, beginning to caress his face in the way you were desperate to just moments ago. You ran your thumb along his cheek, feeling his skin under your touch. Sirius reached for your free hand with his, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m so glad you did that,” you muttered as he held your hand.

“Why?”

“Because if you hadn’t broken first, I was seconds away from doing it myself,” you mused, moving your fingers from his face into his hair. “It’s a bit pathetic that we can't go more than a few hours without touching each other.”

“I don’t think so,” he said, closing his eyes as you began running your fingers through his hair. 

“No?”

“No. I love you, why shouldn’t I show it?”

You smiled, bending down to press a kiss into his hair. “I love you…even though you lost.”

“Fuck off,” Sirius laughed, reaching up to grab you by the shoulders, pulling you down into him. 

You laughed along with him, shifting down so that you were both laying down on the couch. You wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, pressing your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, laying his cheek on top of your head. You relished in his touch, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“I vote we don’t fess up in the morning. I don’t want to give any of them the satisfaction. When they ask, we’ll call it a tie. Agreed?”

“You’d give up your bragging rights?” He asked, laughing when you slapped his arm. “Agreed, darling. Agreed.”

You leaned up to press a kiss into his shoulder, before settling back into his chest. “But I won…you’ll remember that, won’t you? You owe me something from Hogsmeade.”

You couldn’t see his smile, but you could hear it as he clutched you tighter to him. He stifled a laugh, feeling himself ease with you back in his arms. 

“Yes, my love. I’ll remember it.”

—

A/N - Hi! I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!

[ifyouknowmenahyoudontt]

i miss soft remus

i miss smart james and sirius

i miss lily

i miss peter being acknowledged as part of the group

i miss when regulus was only part of "sirius' sucky family"

i miss the marauderettes ( they will pry marlene mary and dorcas out of my cold dead hands ) instead of slytherin skittles

i miss lily

i miss the fics about the marauders just after a full moon taking care of each other

i miss the pranks on slytherins fics

i miss the fix it fics where they're older and look back on how they used to be and either cringe or laugh

i miss the godric's hollow before That Night fics

i miss lily

i miss the sirius and james being brothers fics

i miss the fics of sirius the night he was on the potters' doorstep

i miss the summers at the potters' fics

i miss lily

i miss when people knew that james and sirius were dickhead bullies but grew up to be great men

i miss when people talked about andromeda and alphard and all the other people who were important to sirius and cast off the black family tapestry

i miss lily

i miss the wolfstar fics where sirius told james and james tries his hardest to get them together

i miss the jily fics where lily walks into a room and the other three marauders start mocking how james talks about her when she's not around

i miss lily

i miss the fics where lily had to realize her friend was a death eater and james was there for her

i miss the fics where they all raise harry together

i miss lily

this is so insanely real. lily evans the woman that you see this loser fandom does not deserve you.

all of this.word for word.

[samfucker]

darlin's unempowered friend hcs :3 also masc darlin oc mentioned A LOT! (who's surprised)

his name is trevor o'connor. he's half korean (mom's side) and was born in northern ireland, belfast specifically, before moving to america around the same time that julius (darlin) came to Dahlia, so they quickly became friends because they were both new and had no clue what to do with themselves

he moved away because his mom abandoned him and his dad and his dad, tiernan, didn't really know what to do with himself and moved to america where his brother was. (tiernan is a triplet!) his dad eventually remarried to charlotte and is now extremely happy. trevor loves char!! he has younger siblings from her (that sounds weird? idk how else to word it) and she's overall just one of those mothers that radiate sunshine but does NOT play abt her kids

julius has a bunch of nicknames for him. It went from Trevor to Trev to T to TT (Tee-tee) then titty then Mr. Titty. It's like when you give your dog a nickname and then it escalates into something completely different 

neither of these dudes can walk straight. widawee. like they bump into each other or walk in front of each other and get mad like "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE FUCKING GOING, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??"

they were both losers... they were both pretty boys, but losers. like if they were extroverts and didn't have interests that were considered "weird" then they probably would've been more popular in school

before moving to america, trevor forgot to break up with the girl he was dating so it looked like he literally just disappeared. one time during lunch at school trevor did a big ol sigh like "SIGHH.... man i miss my gf.." and julius was like WHAT r u even talking about......

one time he buzzed and bleached his hair and julius called him eminem for a week and a half before trevor got mad and made julius dye it silver, and when it grew out he had those like tiny little spikes with dark roots and he thought he was the SHIT (he was.)

allergic to pineapple 

dyslexic

his favourite number is 8. julius' is 7. 

after being attacked by quinn, trevor never blamed julius

julius tried to cook for him when he got discharged from the hospital and trevor was like "what... even is this.." 

he didn't eat it. julius ordered him something and ate his creation himself cus he hates wasting food

monster lover, julius is a redbull lover

trevor is also a WHORE for a dr. pepper

one time when they were 14, they tried feeding a stray dog which lead to julius being bitten HARDDD like this dog held on for dear life. afterwards, they hopped on trevor's bike and went to marie's. halfway there trevor asked if julius was okay and julius was just like "are you serious."

they always argue over shit like soccer vs football, chips vs fries, scone vs biscuit, etc. all julius can say to defend himself is "im not from this country."

once he was caught in a lie and trevor replied with "i have an accent, you don't know what i said."

do not have a srs talk around these two. they'll make eye contact and lose their shit

julius wanted to start a band and trevor was like dude we have literally no friends what are you talking about

they used to cuddle platonically all the time, especially when all the quinn shit was going on

trevor has horrendous handwriting. julius makes fun of him when his own handwriting isnt any better, but he defends himself by saying you can read it and that's all that matters

julius : i made u a friendship bracelet :3

trev; thats gay

julius: ok fuck u damn give me it back

trev: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PLEAAAAAAAAAASE

trevor has a ginger little cat with one eye who's called pearce 

one time julius and trev's apartment building caught on fire cus of shitty wiring and julius had to sit outside in just baggy sweatpants and trevor was sitting out there on the curb in just underwear and a pair of slippers cus it was like 2am

julius: ur so annoyi-

trevor: UR APARTMENT BURNED DOWN!!!!!

even tho it was his apartment too and they literally lose half their shit to the fire

trevor's little sister made him mad one time and he told her the tooth fairy wasn't real

they worked together for a while and both got fired cus they both have anger issues and were also so unserious. like they'd end up on the floor with laughter mid shift.

he hated david for a long ass time. he'd refer to him as bitch boy. he loved asher tho and thought milo was a little too intimidated for a short guy (sassy man apocalypse.)

he has an eyebrow piercing and a few small tattoos, he's scared of needles but wanted to look cool

he didn't know about magic until he got attacked by quinn and was about to pass out from blood loss and he fully thought it was a hallucination. then julius came to him in the hospital like you'll never believe this...

EVER SINCE THEN, julius has no peace.

werewolf reaction pics. dog jokes. julius' birthday gift after trev found out was a squaky toy and on halloween he dressed up as the most cliche werewolf ever and said he was julius. (creds to aster). he used to call it transforming instead of shifting and julius would be like THATS NOT WHAT ITS CALLEDDDDDDDDDDDDD.

"man, im bored... wanna go play fetch?" "ur hairs getting long... i'll take u to the dog groomers." "do u want a pedigree??"

THIS IS KINDA WHAT TREV LOOKS LIKE!! (awooga booga *hearts pop out of my eyes and my tongue drops out of my mouth and rolls across the grounf like a red carpet)

also this pic (ik it doesn't look like my darlin oc or Trev) is so them

DAMN CAN I YAP!!!

tags - (i lurv u guys)

@achios @aurorialwolf @infinitelovewiithoutfulfilmentt @tgckceo @astrodude-87 @krashkitty @cozy-collins @professionallyyappinabtangst @porters-fangs @n0r

cus u guys eat up my hcs.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3399

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background/minor themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Series Masterpost for all chapters

2. Hazelnut Ganache Tart

Mary does sober up during her shift.

She feels kind of miserable, so she’s thankful that it’s a slow Monday. She’s also vaguely ashamed of how she’d shown up to work. It’s a new low, even for her. And then someone had seen her and called her out on it. It’s mortifying.

The encounter with Bucky preoccupies her thoughts all day, and she winds up burning a batch of croissants as she daydreams. She’s more careful after that, taking extra care with the assembly of her hazelnut ganache tarts.

Focusing on the intricate details of the pastries, on executing them perfectly, helps her to calm down and forget about the embarrassing encounter. For a little while at least. Alcohol would be better, and by the time she’s clocking out she’s already thinking about getting home so she can have the relief of a drink.

Or ten.

If anything, she throws back the first few even faster than usual, eager to wipe the memory of what’d happened that morning out of her mind.

Bucky, she thinks acerbically. What a stupid name.

And the nerve of him! To just assume those things about her. Has that loser never seen somebody hungover at work before? It's quite the presumptuous leap from that to … submissive.

‘Dominant’. Mary rolls her eyes. He could’ve just been making it up. Probably was. She’s certainly never met anybody who’s just come out and announced it the way he had. What a bizarre thing to do. It’s not like it’s something people go around broadcasting. It’s … well it’s a mental disorder, isn’t it?

They’d mentioned it in her Psych101 class back in college, but she’d dropped out before that semester was halfway through. Unable to help herself, she pulls out her phone and googles “Dominant,” then navigates to the Wikipedia page on “Dominant and Submissive Personality Disorder.” She winds up getting sucked into reading about it. But as soon as the article starts talking about the submissive subsection, she closes the browser in discomfort. 

She remembers back to the encounter with that guy—Bucky. He hadn’t seemed like there was anything wrong with him (other than being bossy and intrusive as fuck).  But where the heck did he get off throwing out psych diagnoses at total strangers? Mary's cheeks grow hot the more she thinks about his cocksure attitude and the pitying way he’d looked at her.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Doll.” 

She remembers how he’d spoken to her, how he’d called her out on her behavior and spoken so assuredly, like he could see right into her. Like he knew all her secrets. It’d been unnerving.

Her pulse quickens as she thinks about it. The way his big hand had felt, wrapped so securely around her wrist. And how he’d squeezed her wrist—slowly, gently.

“Oh, honey. I think you are.” 

Fuck, it’d made her knees go weak.

Sighing, she takes the bottle of vodka and her glass to the couch and plops down, using the remote to turn the tv onto YouTube. She starts up a playlist that she can lose herself in—music videos, stuff from all the tv shows she likes, edits, fail compilations, whatever. Maybe it’s pathetic that this is how she spends most nights, but there’s no one that she has to impress. And she can’t bear the feeling of being alone in her brain otherwise. At least this way everything is warm and entertaining. She pours herself a little more, throwing off the ratio of vodka to ginger ale, but the taste doesn't bother her nearly as much once she's on the third or fourth drink.

The bottle’s half empty, and she wonders if she’ll finish it. She’ll be drunk again at work tomorrow morning, if she does. Yikes. She’ll stop after two more. One more. Two more.

The bottle’s three-quarters empty and an Adam Lambert music video is blasting on the tv. He really is the most underappreciated vocalist of his generation! And he’s got such nice makeup, too …

Maybe she won’t even go to work tomorrow, Mary thinks manically. They don’t appreciate her there anyway. Maybe she’ll just stay here and drink the rest of this and enjoy herself until… until…

The bottle’s empty and the party’s in full swing. No worries though, she thinks, she’s got some of that nasty cheap rum in the back of the pantry. Blecgh. She orders DoorDash that she doesn’t really have the money to be wasting on, puts on makeup while lip syncing to the tv, and thinks about calling Chase to tell him what a loser he is and how glad she is that they broke up. Haven’t had to use this concealer to cover up anything but acne in over a year.

Rum isn’t so bad when you mix it with orange juice!

She gets on a depressing video kick. She bemoans the state of politics, then society, the world, her life. She goes through all the old pictures in her phone and gets pissed at the ones with Chase in them. She imagines running into her ex somewhere random, with a super hot new boyfriend on her arm. She imagines the dumbstruck expression he’d have on his face, and how she’d introduce her way-hotter new boyfriend to him. 

Ohmygosh, Chase! How’ve you been?! Oh me? I’m doing great. This is Bucky, he’s a surgeon-slash-green beret-slash-musician. Ha! Yeah well we just got back from two months in the Bahamas, so that’s why we’re so tan. 

It’s the rum, Mary decides. It makes her sad. She stops feeling fun and happy, and starts feeling lonely and morose. She finds the cardboard sleeve that Bucky had written that phone number on. Hell no, she’s not calling it. She’s got the internet. There’s tons of info online about this stuff that she can look up. Besides, it’s just curiosity. She’s not like him. She's not like that.

She googles BDSM disorder and clicks on the first search result, which winds up being porn. That’s a mistake, but then she decides to watch the porn anyway, because it’s sexy—plus, it's sort of educational, right?

The porn starts making her even more sad. She stares at the paper cup sleeve in her hand while some girl gets the tar beat out of her backside. The last video had been an over-the-lap spanking video—Mary had liked that one. But this doesn’t look nice at all. Especially when the guy switches to hitting her with a friggin’ stick. 

Is this the sort of stuff Bucky likes to do? Jeez.

She has the receipt that Bucky wrote his own number on, too. On impulse, she pulls out her phone and starts to enter a new contact. 

“Asshole Dom Bucky,” she mumbles as she types the words and saves the new contact number with a giggle. It takes more than one try, her fingers not hitting the right keys very often, but she gets it done. 

She comes very, very close to calling Bucky, but winds up calling the hotline phone number instead at the last minute. She’ll whine and cry to them instead, she thinks. At least they’re strangers. She can tell them anything. It’s confidential, anonymous. They can’t tell anyone what she says.

A woman picks up the phone and greets her in a calm, friendly voice.

“Hello, my name is Sharon. I’m a volunteer counselor at the National Submissive Crisis Intervention Hotline.”

“Whatever,” Mary slurs. She is so drunk. She gulps more of her rum and OJ, thinks about going and getting the little razor blade that she only thinks about picking up when she’s wasted. Sometimes it feels nice to do something outrageous when she’s this sad. Nobody can stop her from it, and that feels nice, too. “M’not having a crisis,” she mumbles.

“Okay,” Sharon says, voice still so pleasant and accommodating. “What’s your name?”

“Mary.”

“Okay Mary. I’m glad you called. Would you like to talk to me about what you’re going through? We can talk about anything you’d like.”

“I’m not a freak,” Mary blurts out. “You know? Submissive, or whatever. I’m not. M’normal.”

“Okay,” Sharon says calmly. “Well just so you know, I’m not here to judge. I’m on the spectrum myself.”

Mary blows air through her teeth disdainfully—though deep down, she guesses it’s nice to know that. "So what," she mutters. "You're like, a submissive?

“I’m actually dominant, but I’m not going to do anything to try and boss you around or control you. I’m just here to listen to and support you.” 

“Oh.” She looks down at her glass, feeling like she doesn’t even want to finish drinking it. She’s tired … And sad. “Kay,” she mumbles. “Well I’m not. Like that.”

“You don’t think you have a designation disorder."

Designation disorder, pfft. Mary scoffs again. “Yeah, no.”

“Then why did you call tonight? Do you need someone to talk to?”

She grumbles unintelligibly, then repeats herself when the woman on the phone prompts her. “Some guy just gave me this number. He said that I was.”

“He said that you were what, Honey?”

“… Submissive.” She says the word quietly, embarrassed of it. “But what does he know, right?” She huffs. “Fucking stranger. He doesn’t know me.”

“Okay. What are you going through tonight?” Sharon asks, still sounding kind but also mildly worried. “Do you want to talk about that? About what made you call the hotline?”

Mary sniffles, feeling stupid. She’s suddenly tearing up and she doesn’t even know why. She wipes her eyes hastily and takes another big sip of her drink. “I’m drinking,” she says tearfully, bluntly, expecting to be scolded for it. "M'drunk."

“Okay,” Sharon says. She doesn’t sound mad. “Okay Mary, are you by yourself right now?”

“Yeah. M’in my apartment.”

“Okay. Okay. … Do you drink alone there often?”

Oh. That hits hard for some reason, and suddenly Mary’s crying, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to hold back a sob.

“Mary? Are you there, Honey?”

Honey. Mary cries harder. That's what Bucky had called her. She likes hearing it, but also she feels desperately sad because it reminds her about how she’s all alone and doesn’t have someone to call her ‘Honey’ or ‘Doll’ or ‘good girl’. And nobody’s ever spanked her over their lap, either. 

“Mary?”

“Yeah,” she says, voice all choked up. “Yeah, m’here.”

“Okay. Good.” Mary can hear the sound of typing on the other end of the line. “How are you feeling Mary? Do you think we could make a plan together? Maybe drink some water and get you ready for bed? It’s late. You must be tired, huh?” 

Mary sniffles. “Um,”

“It’d make me so happy if we could make a plan, Mary. Would you do that for me?” 

“... Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s so great. Good girl.”

Mary’s face crumples. She’s not a good girl. She’s not good at all! 

Sharon hears her crying harder and asks worriedly what’s wrong. “Mary,” she says, voice sharper—stern-sounding. “Mary, you need to talk to me and tell me what’s happening.” 

“Sh-sharon?” Mary cries. “What I tell you is private, right? You won’t tell anyone or report me, will you?”

“... The goal is to keep you safe, Honey. I’m here to help you do that,” Sharon says. “You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

She sounds so kind and caring, so steady, and it makes Mary want to tell her everything. It’s been so hard, not having anyone to talk to. And anyway she’s already crying at this point, and it feels good in that way that crying sometimes does, so she might as well. It’s confidential.

She takes a deep breath, takes another big gulp from her glass, and starts spilling her guts to this stranger named Sharon over the phone.

Bucky’s phone rings early in the morning. He groans as he wakes up, grumpily reaching for it. He peeks at the red numbers of the alarm clock over on Steve’s side of the bed: 4:30 AM. 

If this is a robocall this early in the morning, he’s going to be tempted to commit capital murder. “Hello?” he rasps.

“Hello. Is this, um … ‘Bucky’?”

It’s a man’s voice. Bucky squints blearily up at the bedroom’s popcorn ceiling. “Yeah? Who is this?”

“Sir, my name is Officer Santiago with the New York Police Department. I’m calling from Holy Cross Hospital.”

“Hospital?” Bucky says, more alert at hearing that. “You’re a cop?” Why is a cop calling him? Bucky can’t think of a good reason.

“Yes Sir.”

He sits up in the bed. Beside him, Steve starts waking up, too. “Mmph, who is it?” he asks sleepily.

“What’s happened?” Bucky asks, dread already curling in his gut, imagining who could be hurt or dead at the hospital that they’re calling him at this hour …

“We have a woman here,” the officer says. “She called a crisis hotline. The operator was worried about her safety, she contacted us.”

“Those hotlines are supposed to be confidential,” Bucky growls.

“She was making threats of self harm. We had to pick her up. We’ve got her down here at the E.R. at Holy Cross. Involuntary hold.”

“Wait a minute ... What was the hotline she called?” Bucky asks, as the thought occurs to him and he hopes he’s wrong. “It wasn’t a D/s hotline, was it?” 

Beside him in the bed, Steve is grimacing and rubbing his eyes. “Babe?”

“Some submissive crisis line, yeah,” the officer says. 

Bucky’s heart sinks. The woman from the coffee shop yesterday. “Mary,” he murmurs, remembering how neat and cute her handwriting was on her nametag and on the side of his to-go cup. “Shit,” he says.

“She’s stable. She has minor self-inflicted injuries but nothing life threatening. We found your number in her phone.” Here is where the officer starts to sound uneasy. “You’re listed here as her, um … her Dom.”

“I … am?” Bucky’s eyebrows climb his forehead. He hadn’t thought the girl would keep his cell number, let alone save him as a contact. He’d thought he’d pissed her off, that she was too proud, too mortified.

“Babe, who is it?” Steve asks, awake now and frowning at Bucky in concern. He can tell something’s wrong. Bucky shushes him with a gesture and Steve’s face flashes with annoyance. Bucky gives him an apologetic wince.

“Specifically, you’re listed under ‘Asshole Dom Bucky’.” The officer clears his throat uncomfortably. “She wouldn’t give us a number to call, and department policy is to contact designation partners, if possible.”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell the officer that he’s not Mary’s partner, that he doesn’t even really know her. But he stops himself, thinking about what happens to subs who get dragged into the E.R. and go unclaimed. “I … yeah,” he hedges. “Yeah, that’s me.” After an awkward pause and feeling guilty for the lie, he checks, “You said she’s okay?”

“Yes. She’s pretty upset, and intoxicated. But the doctor checked her out and said she’s okay. Well … physically-speaking,” he adds awkwardly. “They’re ready to admit her.”

“Psych unit?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky sighs. “No. That’s not good. It’d be better if I came and got her.”

“Okay.” The officer sounds relieved. “She uh, she’s pretty upset.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” Bucky says. “What does that mean? Is she frantic?”

“She’s angry,” the officer says, and it sounds like he’s trying to keep his voice low now. Bucky wonders if Mary is somewhere in the near vicinity of the officer. “Drunk and super pissed. Belligerent.”

“Is she restrained right now?” Bucky asks, worried.

“Yeah. Cuffed to the bed.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “She shouldn’t be restrained by a stranger. It’s not healthy for her. Can't you just watch her?”

“Sorry Sir, that’s our policy when we bring in the involuntary cases. We have to do it.”

Bucky is already up and heading to the closet to grab clothes. “Okay,” he says curtly. “I’m coming to get her. I’ll be there within the hour.”

The officer thanks him and Bucky hangs up. He looks back at Steve, who is propped up on his side and staring at him in something close to shock. 

“Buck, what the hell?”

Bucky winces and goes back to the bed. He climbs up and takes Steve’s hand. Steve isn’t on the spectrum, but his dynamic with Bucky has always been more on the subservient side. Bucky sees that he’s not mad, is just waiting for an explanation, so he takes a breath and tells him, “You remember the woman I told you about? The one at the coffee shop?”

Steve nods. “The lemon tarts.”

“Yeah, her. She’s in the hospital. A psych hold, that was the NYPD on the phone. Somehow they think I’m her Dom, and she’s being difficult. Won’t give ‘em a name of anybody they can release her to.”

“Oh, man.” Steve is well-educated on the intricacies of Designated people: He’s married to one, after all.

“Baby.” Bucky rubs the back of Steve’s hand. “I have to go get her.”

“You don’t ‘have’ to,” Steve corrects. He looks at Bucky knowingly. “But you want to, don’t you?”

Bucky doesn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or not. “I … yeah. I want to.” He and Steve have talked about the possibility of bringing another person into their marriage one day, a submissive to meet Bucky’s needs. Steve has always been open to the idea, especially since they’re both bisexual.

“We gonna try and make that work out?” 

Bucky scoffs. “That’s way down the road.”

“But it would be good for you too, wouldn’t it?” 

He shrugs, and then admits, “Yeah, probably.” Bucky’s what’s known as a ‘high needs’ dominant. The condition affects him more severely than it does others. He tries to figure out if Steve is at all upset by what they’re discussing. “It’s crazy, I know,” he says. “Not exactly what we always talked about. We don’t even know her.”

“But she’s in trouble,” Steve says. “And you were drawn to her.”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t think she has anyone else to go to. And they’re talking about admitting her to the psych unit.”

“That’s not good, is it?”

“No. They won’t have the knowledge to help her. Places like that tend to use meds first and ask questions second.” He sees Steve’s wince and nods. “It could definitely make things worse.”

“What’s wrong with her? Subdrop?”

“I don’t know. Cop said she was self-harming and drinking. That’s all I know so far.”

Steve nods. “Can I go with you?” he looks hopeful and ready to jump into action, and Bucky is surprised—even though he knows he shouldn’t be.

“Babe, you want to do this? Bring her home? Take care of her?”

Steve nods, stalwart. “We should try. It’s the best option she has. If it works out, great. And if not … well we can get her the help she needs, at least.”

Bucky nods. Steve is on-board. He doesn’t think this is stupid, or crazy. Bucky’s chest swells with affection for him. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Steve leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “I trust you,” he says. “And I love you.”

Bucky smiles, stupidly in-love with his husband. “Love you too, Stevie.”

They kiss once more, and then Steve is pulling back and clapping his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get going if we’re really doing this.” He hefts himself out of the bed, moving with purpose. “She’s waiting for us.”

Us, Bucky thinks happily, realizing that it’s true: They’re husbands—soulmates, in his opinion. They’re partners, an inseparable unit ever since the day they got married, and they do everything together. So it’ll be the two of them taking care of this woman together. They’ll be a team, each giving her what she needs in their own ways. And maybe it’ll go somewhere, who knows? Thinking about it makes Bucky feel settled and satisfied inside, the barest ghost of the sort of feeling he gets from domming someone.

Impulsive as it is, he’s got a hunch that this is the right decision.

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

🍵Consider tipping your friendly neighborhood pervert smut author!

✍🏻Commissions: reach out via Tumblr DM or contact here