#into something more by spending time together

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 10 masterlist

-

Only after incinerating the original samples do you second guess your actions.

Too late by then. By the time it occurs to you that it might’ve been smarter to keep the samples to reference later, they’re already in biohazard bins, autoclaved and in the process of being incinerated, flames dancing behind the glass. 

You can only watch dispassionately. Mistakes made in crisis; you keep yielding to the thin stretch of fear across the vanishing point of your paranoia and hoping you won’t make the same mistake again, only to repeat the same pattern. 

Over lunch in the mess, you bite back your anxiety and ask Gaz to come by the lab in the morning in order to draw another vial of blood. He spreads his legs under the table until his knees taps against yours.

There’s a glint in his eye when he smiles. “Something wrong with the one from yesterday?”

Stare and swallow your pride. “I…accidentally contaminated it. Can you come by?”

“Of course, doctor. Anything for you.”

You grit your teeth to avoid snapping at him in front of everyone else, the mess full for a change. Under the table, you press your knees together until your legs tremble. 

True to his word, Gaz comes by first thing in the morning, perky enough to rub you the wrong way. You slept poorly again though, so it’d be hard to rub you the right way. 

“You look tired, love,” Gaz observes quietly, the paper crinkling under him as he sits himself down on the exam table.

“I am tired.” Your voice is subdued, weary, but somehow the thought of being vulnerable in front of him doesn’t scare you the way it once did. Your dynamic these days is an interesting one. Two people in on the same secret. It makes you feel almost close to him in a way, a shared intimacy that doesn’t extend to the rest of the crew. 

“Didn’t get enough sleep?” he asks.

“No, I—” 

A man stands at the end of a long corridor, shrouded in darkness.

You are powerless to stop him unless he wants to be stopped.

He is coming for you. He is holding out his hand and waiting for you to take it.

You rub your forehead where it aches. “No. Not enough.”

Hadir follows not long after, the door sliding shut behind him as you prep the syringe. You don’t respond when he says good morning, not in the mood for pleasantries or conversation with everything else going on. It’s hard to feel up to being friendly when this whole situation feels like a thinly veiled attempt to monitor you, like you’re the untrustworthy one when two feet away, Gaz sits with a serene smile on his face and twiddles his thumbs. 

There’s a small pleasure in plunging a needle into his vein again, but you’re not cruel enough to try and make it hurt. You’re not even sure if you could. 

He doesn’t so much as wince. 

You’re much more efficient about it with Hadir hovering over your shoulder, immediately transferring Gaz’s blood into capillary tubes after drawing it from him and flitting to the other side of the room to place the tubes into the centrifuge. It’s not a long wait—ten minutes tops—but you spend it hunched over the centrifuge. On the other side of the room, Gaz and Hadir chit chat like nothing’s wrong. 

The second the centrifuge beeps, you pop the lid and remove the tubes. Perfectly separated; no different than the day before. You repeat the same steps as Hadir watches, pipetting the supernatant fluid into a new test tube and preparing the slides, shoulders tense the whole time. Waiting for him to stop and correct you. 

It never comes—as it shouldn’t. You may not be above question, but you’re good at your job. You wouldn’t have messed up something as simple as a blood test of all things.

Then, you sit down in front of the microscope. 

Something in your gut tells you what’s going to happen before it does. You slip the slide under the microscope and lean forward into the eyepiece only to find perfectly normal red blood cells. No strange wandering cells bending into confounding shapes. Just erythrocytes sitting peacefully on the blood smear slide, not overlapping and not too widely spread apart.

You look over at Gaz when Hadir takes your place, the man still sitting on the examination table as if waiting for your permission to leave. The smile on his face is as placid as ever, almost affectionate. You’d almost believe it too, if you didn’t know any better. 

Why are you doing this? You wish you could just ask him outright. It borders on the cruel. Like a humiliation ritual, the both of you knowing that the blood cells under the microscope aren’t what they seem. Why are you putting me through this?

His eyes twinkle. Because I can, they say. 

It doesn’t take Hadir very long to come to the same conclusion as you. 

“Looks all good to me,” Hadir pronounces, smiling brightly when he pulls away from the eyepiece. “See, doc? Yesterday’s must’ve been a fluke.”

You nod instead of answering. It seems trivial to respond with words; nothing you could say would express the deep well opening up inside of you, the ever widening gap between you and the reality you once took for granted. All you can do is sit there in silence as the two of them leave together.

That seemingly no one aside from you can seem to articulate or even comprehend the magnitude of the situation at hand is starting to get to you. 

Deep within every quiet corner of the universe lie the seeds of destruction; a throbbing, cancerous heart. There’s no epiphany there though, no revelation or moment of enlightenment to shock you to your core—you know that life and death are inextricably intertwined, an egg nesting within another egg. Supermassive black holes at the centre of galaxies. Figs and wasps. Beginnings and endings.

Now one is knocking at your door, asking to come in.

The day severs itself into two when Farah finds you making a cup of tea in the galley. Your guard is already up when the door slides open and she marches in, so geared up to be scolded that you flinch at the sound of the door sliding shut. 

“We need to talk,” Farah says. Her tone brooks no argument. You’ve been dreading this confrontation, but you aren’t particularly shocked by its arrival. News travels fast in confined spaces; gossip faster. You knew from the second that you got Hadir involved after promising that you wouldn’t share your misgivings about Gaz with anyone other than Farah that this would be coming.

“Now?”

“If you’re not busy.”

You’re not and you know she knows that, so instead of arguing you just nod and pour your tea down the sink, following her out of the galley.

She steers you down a hallway away from the main corridor that leads towards the brig and several supply rooms. At the end of the hall, the brig just around the bend behind her, Farah stops and turns to face you, arms across her chest. Her face is set in a stern cast. 

“Why did you ask Hadir to help you with a blood test? He’s not the ship’s medic.”

That being her first question does come as a surprise. You’d assumed she’d immediately tear into you about involving Hadir in your arrangement, not interrogate you about leaning on another crew member for advice and support. 

“I didn’t ask him to. He volunteered.”

“Why did he volunteer?”

“I…thought there was something wrong with Gaz’s blood sample from the other day. I asked him if he could confirm if there was something wrong. I just needed a second pair of eyes.”

A terrible idea in retrospect. You should’ve anticipated Hadir’s reaction and the subsequent fallout. 

“He told me about what you said yesterday. About Gaz. Do I need to be concerned?”

“Well, I am concerned about Gaz. If you’d seen his blood the other day—”

“I mean concerned about you.”

You blink, floored. “Concerned about me?” you ask in bewilderment. “What did I do?” 

“You told Hadir that you didn’t think Gaz was human. How is anyone supposed to take that? You might not like him, but he's part of the crew now, and insinuating that about someone on the crew is—”

“Wait, wait—I’m sorry I got Hadir involved when I said I wouldn’t, but—I thought when you said you’d keep an eye on Gaz that it meant you…had similar suspicions.”

She looks at you strangely. “I never promised to keep an eye on Gaz. What are you talking about?”

Her response leaves you at a loss for words. Suddenly and acutely aware that you have been having two separate conversations—you assuming that Farah’s frustration stemmed from involving her brother when she previously asked you not to, and her assuming something entirely different. 

“Yes, we did,” you insist. “You told me the other day that you would as long as—”

Something moves in the shadows. 

Your eyes flick towards it instinctively. Then your body goes rigid.

A slender, dark eyed woman watches you from the end of the hall, her lips tilted up in an enigmatic grin. Half-shrouded in shadow, you notice her only because you catch her moving in your peripheral vision when she shifts her weight to one leg. You notice first the familiar stripped headscarf wrapped around her head. Then, the smaller details of her face—full eyebrows and aquiline nose, the soft rounded corners of her jaw pulled tight with her smile. 

“Doctor?” the Farah in front of you asks. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, blood pressure spiking. 

The other woman takes a step into the light. It’s Farah in shape and appearance, but there’s something off about it. Like you’re aware now of something intrinsically lesser about it when shown in opposition to the real thing. 

The Farah in front of you frowns, concerned at your sudden silence. You’re aware now of how much more solid she is, real as a gut punch. Real as grass beneath your feet back on Earth or the heat of the sun on your face, all dulled out in space.

“Did we talk the other day?” you ask. “The other day—after the navigation system was fixed?”

And her eyes say it before her lips do. 

“We haven’t spoken in days. I stayed back to help Alex after that meeting.”

Cold reality flashes briefly before you: hollow voices and replicas. What have your eyes been seeing? Reality laps against the smoothened rocks of your mind. Do you know what’s happening to you?

Can you trust what’s really in front of you?

The thing behind Farah wearing her face approaches without sound, coming closer and closer until it stands right beside her, mirroring her stance, its face screwing itself into a similarly serious expression. Double vision. Your vision is blurry around the edges, fear making you tremble something fierce. 

You keep waiting for Farah to notice it standing right beside her, for her to suddenly turn her head and see it there, but she doesn’t. She stares at you with mounting concern. 

And then you blink, the two versions blurring and then overlapping. 

Your throat makes a sound like a whimper. You take a step back, the metal clang of your boot against the floor jarring in the silence. 

“I have to go,” you whisper, the blood draining from your face, your lips almost numb.  

She calls after you when you turn around, hurrying back down the hall whence you came, but you don’t stop, breaking into a run when you hear Farah come after you.

Rat in a maze. Mouse in a trap. You scurry down corridors knowing that there’s no place to run to. At every point, there is a wall past which you cannot go. Hauntingly familiar twists and turns, everything saturated with the memory of itself, the same walls you’ve seen innumerable times. The ship fills with low creaks and hollow sounds, cramped quarters and over familiarity to the point of suffocation. 

And then the nothingness that waits for you right outside the ship. Billions upon billions of miles of dark emptiness surrounding you, only occasionally interrupted by pockets of cold clouds of gas, even more seldomly coming together in precisely the right way for a star or planet to be born. 

Set in contrast with the vast infinity just beyond your walls, the ship feels impossibly small. A tiny speck floating through the cosmos. 

You wish you could wrench a window open and climb out of it. 

You can feel it swell up in your chest at first, bigger and bigger, stretching you around its immensity. Suddenly unable to take in a full breath, your chest too tight for your lungs to fill. Your body is somewhere else behind you, on a ship drifting through space, no certainty that you’ll ever return home. Earth is so far away—tens of millions of miles away from you and no way to get back. 

There’s a hand on your nape suddenly. 

“Hey,” a low voice murmurs. “Are you alright, love?” 

You don’t answer, heaving for breath. Chest collapsing in on itself. A dying star; tiny, tiny light flickering in and out of existence. Hands sweating profusely. Heart hammering against your chest so hard it hurts. 

“I’m with you, love—I’m not going anywhere.”

The voice murmurs low in your ear again, susurrus but too far away for you to make out. Then, a hand on your low back guiding you away, tucking you into a soft, warm place. You go with it. Dark. No blinding artificial lights blinding you. 

“C’mon, breathe with me,” the voice guides you. “Deep breaths. In, out, in, out—”

You follow their instructions, taking in a shaky breath and holding before expelling it. 

“There you go—that’s good,” he praises softly.

The come down is rough. All that adrenaline dumping straight out of you, heart still lurching in your chest. You’ve never had a panic attack before, but you know what to expect in the aftermath and it doesn’t disappoint. You might as well have been hit by a truck for how much your body aches. 

When you finally have the wherewithal to look around and take stock of the situation, you notice that you’re in someone else’s quarters, the lights dimmed until only a sliver of light penetrates through the dark. It’s one of the smaller rooms, no porthole to gaze out through into the blackness of space—only a cot and a folding table mounted into the wall. 

Crouched in front of you, your limp hands held in his while his thumbs rub soothing circles on the backs of your hands, is Gaz. 

Your horror is a beast on the periphery of your consciousness. Too depleted for it to overwhelm you. But you feel it balloon in your chest even though it doesn’t have the strength to move you. 

“Love, listen—shh, no, no, no,” Gaz shushes you when you try to cry out. “No, enough, you need to calm down. Just let me speak, alright?” 

He shuffles closer to you until he looms over you, your knees spread wide to accommodate him. You get a better sense of his true size from this angle, the man composed of solid, compact muscle, his narrow waist deceptive, giving him a leaner appearance from afar than up close. You know now how much room he can take up when he wants to. 

“None of this is your fault,” he says. He shifts, releasing your hands to cup your elbows instead, smoothing his hands up your arms. “You’ve worked so hard to show them the truth, but they just don’t want to see.”

“It’s—they can’t see because of you—” you croak. 

Gaz shakes his head. “No, no. If they wanted to, they’d see through it. Like you have.”

“No—you’re doing something to me.” 

His lips flick up into a smile. “Doing something?”

“You’re making me see things that aren’t there,” you whisper, shrinking into yourself. “I don’t even know what’s fucking real anymore—you’re scaring me.”

Even this close, you smell nothing. No heat emanates from his body or breath puffs from his lungs. It’s like a monolith looms over you, staring down at you through eyes that you can see but cannot comprehend. For all intents and purposes, he looks like a man. But he is not; he is something altogether different. 

A habitation of otherness smiling down at your unraveling interiority.

“I can make them believe you. I can help them see it with their own eyes. Would you like that, love?”

He says it with so much tenderness, stroking the backs of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“What do you mean?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer at first. You’re stuck gazing into his eyes. 

“What I mean,” he says, leaning in until his words are all you can hear. “Is that I can take away every shadow of doubt from their minds until all that’s left is the cold clarity of certitude. Show them what I’ve shown you.”

Gaz cups your face in both hands, fingers spread wide over your cheeks and neck, drawing you in until your lips brush against his. Softer than you expected, with a touch of texture. You don’t know what to think of him anymore, whether it’s your lips touching his now or whether this is all happening in your head. 

Then your lips part and he sighs into your mouth. His lips glide over yours, tenderer than you expected. Soft and wet; silky. Warmth spreads across your chest, everything suddenly concentrated on his kiss. It deepens almost naturally, your hands lifting to fist in the collar of his shirt and drag him closer to you, exhaling harshly into his mouth when you pull back to breathe, only to fall back into him again. Mouth tasting of something you can’t put your finger on; almost ambrosial. 

Is this what he’s wanted this whole time? The thought vanishes as soon as it comes. You’re a ball on a tether swinging in circles, a small planet orbiting this sun. And you’re slowly, but surely, sinking into him, gravity pulling you so close that you can feel the heat of flames against your cheeks. 

He breaks the kiss and your eyes flutter open to find him staring back at you through half-lidded eyes. “Well?”

“Please.”

Gaz smiles against your lips.

[covenofagatha]

Four times Agatha fails at cockwarming (and one time she doesn't)

The second attempt

Part two of this ask

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: g!p Agatha, premature ejaculation, teasing, mommy kink, bratty reader, desperate!Agatha, fingering, underwear as a gag, cum-eating (kind of)

When you wake up the next day, you can already feel the dull ache of arousal in your cunt. You’re still remembering the way Agatha looked yesterday, the way she sounded, when she came before she could even get her cock inside you, and it turns you on way more than it should. 

Why is there something so hot about your wife prematurely ejaculating? You’re not exactly sure, but having the power over her to make her fall apart so fucking easily and so fucking quickly really does something to you. 

Agatha is still sleeping next to you, on her side facing you, and you smirk. The two of you have plans today — seeing a movie and then mini-golfing. It’s a nice way to stay connected and spend time together with how busy you both have been. But you still have a little bit before you have to leave for the movie, more than enough time to get her cock inside you.

She stirs when you start to pepper kisses along her cheek and then down her neck and she turns onto her back, eyes fluttering open to look at you. “Morning, honey,” she says groggily. 

“Hi,” you whisper shyly, propping yourself up on an elbow to admire her. “How’d you sleep?” 

Your wife thinks for a moment. “Pretty good. I was dreaming about you.” The heat in her eyes tells you that it was a hot dream and you take the initiative to sit up and slide on top to straddle her. You’re wearing her purple flannel and simple gray cotton panties, Agatha in an oversized T-shirt and boxers, and your cunt can still feel the heat radiating off her already semi-erect cock through the two layers of fabric. Her hands rest on your waist and she looks up at you adoringly. 

“What was it about?” you ask, slowly rolling your hips over her length. She is always so pliable in the mornings and you feel her cock harden even more. 

Her hands squeeze you. “You were under my desk, sucking me off while I graded papers. And then I laid you on top of my desk so I could eat you and made you drip all over those papers, and when I passed them back to my students, they still smelled like you and I had to make up an excuse as to what it was.” 

The thought makes you throb and she’s almost to a full erection beneath you. “What did you say it was?” 

There’s a teasing glint in her eyes. “You woke me up right before I could come up with one.” 

You chuckle and grind down on her, both of you letting out a breathless moan. “Honey, we have to go soon,” she reminds you and you roll your eyes before reaching down between your bodies to spread your pussy lips open through your underwear so you can better drag your clit along her length. You whimper at how good it feels. 

“We still have some time,” you say persuasively but she pats your hips with pursed lips and you know you’re not winning this battle. You flop off of her back onto your side of the bed with a groan. “You know, you only make it harder on yourself when you deny me like that.” She snorts at the innuendo and gets out of bed. 

“Yeah, well, I’ll try to survive,” she retorts and grabs a change of clothes from her nightstand before going into the bathroom to get ready. 

It’s tempting to slide your hand into your underwear and relieve yourself, but she would be absolutely furious and probably not touch you for at least a week, so you grumble and get out of bed. You put on a skirt, fully intending to tease Agatha even more today, and a long-sleeve blouse. Agatha steps out of the bathroom, wearing suit pants and a blue sweater, and pats your ass on the way out of the room. 

She’s already making eggs when you come downstairs and breakfast is comfortably quiet before it’s time to go to the theater. 

If she notices that you’re being on your best behavior, she doesn’t say anything, and it makes you desperately want to be a brat instead. At least that gets you some attention. 

So when you get to the concession stand and you get a drink, you make eye contact with her as you deep-throat the straw before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking. 

Agatha chokes on a piece of popcorn and you smirk before walking past her to the room for your movie, taking extra care to brush your wrist against her cock. 

She settles into the chair next to you and you look around to make sure no one is near you before your hand sneaks into her lap and squeezes her cock. She keels and you feel her cock twitch in her pants. You rub your palm over her, stroking her back to full hardness, but then two more people walk into the theater and you go back to being her good girl. 

The movie starts but the only thing you notice is that Agatha is antsy. Her leg is bouncing on the floor fast and her fingers are drumming on the cupholder and it’s distracting. You know she’s a little worked up and you fucking love it — but you want to be able to pay attention to the screen. 

So you lay your hand flat on her thigh over her pants and she freezes. No more bouncing, no more drumming, just a sharp intake of breath. You don’t move your hand and you’re able to enjoy the movie for a few moments before you feel the fabric of her pants becoming tighter. 

Without even having to look down, you know she’s getting harder than she already was and you can’t help but tease — your fingers curl and you drag your nails up and down her thigh ever so slightly, always stopping before they reach the tip of  her cock. You don’t have a rhythm, sometimes pausing low for too long before her body jerks and you remember what you’re doing. 

Agatha slightly slouches further into the seat in an attempt to get your hand to go higher, but you hover your fingers off as a warning, and she shifts back to sitting normally. 

“Honey,” she whispers throatily and you have to bite back a smile. It’s unclear if she wants you to stop or keep going. 

So you slide your hand up so that two fingers are resting against the tip of her cock and she chokes. 

“Stop,” she says urgently, but it’s not an order, it’s a plea. 

You skim your fingertips over her hard cock and feel it pulse under you and she clenches onto both armrests and you can see how white her knuckles are in the light from the movie. 

Is she going to cum right here in the movie theater for you? In her pants like a fucking teenager? You think that might be even hotter than what happened yesterday and you can feel a pool of wetness collecting in your underwear

Agatha’s teeth are gritted so tightly and she presses a fist against her mouth, her hips rising almost indiscernibly. 

Fuck. 

But then her other hand grabs onto your wrist and pulls you off of her cock and you chuckle quietly before leaning over so your hot breath is on her ear. “Thought you were going to cum for me, mommy,” you mock and her cheek twitches before shaking her head, eyes staring bullets at the big screen. 

Your tongue flicks out against her earlobe and then you settle back into your chair and your wife doesn’t move until the movie gets to a sex scene and she lets out a little gasp. You know it’s not from the actors but from thinking of you like that, because that’s exactly what you’re doing. 

After she had cum prematurely yesterday, she had eaten you out until she’d gotten hard again and then lasted even longer than normal while fucking you. You had mentioned that maybe it was a good thing then and that she should cum quickly first every time, and she had growled and spanked you until you apologized for being a brat and then shoving three fingers inside you and making you orgasm again. 

Now it’s your turn to shift in your seat, feeling even more arousal course through your veins. 

Is that what she’s thinking about right now? A glance down at her cock confirms that she’s still just as hard as she was before and you wonder if she would agree to sneaking off for a bathroom quickie. You have no idea what’s happening in the movie, having missed critical exposition while teasing Agatha at the start, and you’d be fine with leaving right now if it meant you could get your wife’s cock in you sooner. 

“Mommy,” you murmur, making your voice sound as desperate as possible, not that you have to try too hard. “Can we—”

She shushes you. “Quiet, honey. Mommy’s trying to watch the movie.” You roll your eyes and are tempted to start teasing her again, but you know that she definitely wouldn’t give in then. 

And she will surely punish you if you do make her cum in her pants in a movie theater. 

So you sit patiently in your chair, barely even squirming, until the movie is over before jumping up the second the lights turn on. Agatha raises an eyebrow at you. 

“You…me…the bathroom?” you suggest and Agatha snorts. Your face falls. 

Your wife stands up more calmly than you did and you dramatically pout. “The putt-putt course is right next to here. You were so excited to play when we planned this, so we’re going to go there and you’re going to behave and maybe when we get home, mommy will give you a reward.” 

You want to make a cheap retort and ask if she thinks she can even make it until home, but you bite it back. No need to give her more reason to get fed up with you. 

“Fine, but you might want to cover up your pants somehow,” you advise, eyes flicking back down to the very evident outline of her erection. And then you can’t resist. “Try not to touch yourself, though. It’ll be a lot harder to hide a cum stain than just your cock.” 

Agatha grumbles something that sounds an awful like you fucking brat under her breath before taking off her blue sweater and tying it around her waist, leaving her in just a black tank top. Your mouth runs dry at the swell of her breasts, her pronounced collarbones, and the slight muscular curvature of her shoulders. She is so hot and your underwear just clings to you even more. 

She’s watching you expectantly, so you swallow hard, refocus, and lead the way outside. Agatha gives you the keys for you to move the car to the parking lot next to the theater while she walks over to buy tickets for mini-golf. 

You meet her by the station to get your equipment and almost laugh at how pained she looks. She’s standing at an awkward angle, like she’s actively trying not to collapse in on herself, and you know without a doubt that she’s still hard. 

After you get your putters and golf balls, you make your way over to the first hole. It’s a straight-forward shot about fifteen yards away and Agatha lets you go first. 

You line the ball up with the hole and get into position with the club, waggling your hips playfully because you can feel her eyes on your ass. You know that if you weren’t in public right now, she’d spank you for it. 

Focusing, you swing the putter and the ball rolls to about a foot away from the hole. 

“Not too bad,” Agatha says and you step out of the way so she can take her turn. When she leans over the club, you can see the tent her cock is making in her pants and it makes you snicker. It’s honestly impressive how little it takes to have her hard as a rock, and even more impressive of how long she can sustain the erection. 

Her ball goes well past the hole and she groans in frustration. 

“Got to get your head in the game, mommy,” you say with a wink, knowing that calling her that will only get her more worked up and her grip tightens on the putter. You’d make a comment about how easy she is, but you know that you don’t really have a leg to stand on with how wet you get just from the sight of her hands.

She gives you a warning look while you simper and lead her closer to the hole. You’re not a very good golfer, you don’t even really try when it comes to mini-golf, but for the sake of being a brat, you put your hands on the top of the putter and slowly and sensually drop to a squat, hands sliding down the shaft of the club.

Agatha exhales so loudly you can hear her and you shoot her a teasing smile before pretending to examine your ball’s position to the hole. “You know it’s my turn, don’t you?” she says. 

You stand up, rolling your body against the club as you do like it’s a stripper pole. It’s taking a lot of effort not to laugh at the exasperated look on your wife’s face, but by the straining in her pants, your exaggerated stunts are still impacting her. “Haven’t you already come first enough recently?” you ask innocently. 

“That doesn’t even make sense in this context,” she protests and you can’t stop from giggling. You make the putt and so does she. 

Moving onto the next hole, you bend at the waist to set your ball down, giving Agatha a clear view of your soaked underwear, and you can hear her sharp intake of breath from where she’s standing behind you. You’re playing a dangerous game and you know it’s only a matter of time before she starts trying to regain the upper hand. 

You get to the fifth hole before it happens. You’ve calmed down on the teasing because the score is so close and you’re determined not to let your wife beat you, and Agatha decides to try to throw you off. 

You’re about to take the putt when all of a sudden, she wraps her arms around you, hands resting on top of yours, as if she’s showing you how to hold the golf club if any passersby happen to see you.

But what she’s really doing is pressing her hard cock against your ass, pushing you forward slightly so your clit brushes against the putter. 

“Mommy can’t wait to fuck you later,” she purrs and your mind goes blank, an indescribable heat growing inside you. It’s the combination of being worked up by her reaction to your teasing, feeling her cock, and the words she’s whispering into your ear that is driving you absolutely crazy and you whine. Her little displays of power are so fucking hot and it only makes you want to struggle for control even more. But Agatha isn’t done yet. “I love the feeling of your warm, wet cunt around me. It’s like you were made for mommy — for mommy’s cock. I love all your pretty sounds, I love the way you look with my cock in your mouth. Fuck, baby, you’re so hot, I need you so bad.” 

Your breath is coming out raggedly and your head is absolutely spinning. You need to get a hold of yourself and you push your ass back into her cock. She hisses and it helps to clear your mind a little. “God, you’re just a pervert, aren’t you?” you taunt and she gasps and bucks forward. A thrill runs through you. “Getting me all worked up while we’re trying to play a nice little game of mini-golf. You just can’t help yourself, can you? You just need me too bad, right, mommy? If only you could get your cock inside me before cumming.”

Maybe it’s a little too far because she growls behind you and grabs you by the arm, pulling you back to the front. 

“Agatha — wait, what —” 

She whirls around and she looks mad. “We are going to go home,” she seethes, ��and I’m going to teach you a fucking lesson about watching your tongue.” You can’t help but feel excited, and it only turns you on more when she barks at the employee who is taking too long to focus on you two so you can return your clubs. 

And then she’s peeling out of the parking lot and going ten over the speed limit to get to your house as quickly as possible. You position yourself so that both your feet are up on the seat with a leg resting against the middle console and the other against the door, and you run two fingers up your clothed slit, making a muffled sound. 

Agatha glances over at you, swears, and then quickly looks back to the road, her face heating up. You chuckle and then your head drops back against the seat when you rub at your clit. “What are you doing?” she asks hoarsely. 

“What does it look like, mommy? I’m touching myself,” you state and her lips part with heavy breaths. “I’m so fucking wet for you.” Your panties are actually soaked and they’re no longer acting as a barrier for your cunt so you’re leaking out the sides of the fabric onto your skirt and upper, inner thighs. 

The car accelerates even more and her hand reaches across to grip onto your knee like she just needs to feel your skin. It makes you clench and even more wetness gushes out of you. You don’t even know how you got to be this much of a mess, but your wife just has a way of making you crazy. 

But you’re not the only one who’s going crazy — a quick peek over the console shows that her cock is straining so much against her pants that you think the fabric might be permanently stretched out. Her cheeks are flushed and her arms are so tightly gripped around the steering wheel that the veins running from her hands all the way up to her shoulders are taunt and blue. You want to lean over and trace them with your tongue. 

A stifled moan slips out of your mouth and her fingernails dig into your thigh, leaving little indentations in your skin. “Mommy, fuck,” you say breathlessly, pressing harder on your clit. “I need you.” 

Agatha fucking whimpers and swerves into the driveway, throws the car into park, and gets out of the car with record speed. You follow her into the foyer, expecting for her to head toward the stairs, but you don’t even make it past the kitchen before she spins around and grabs your cheeks to pull you in for a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. Her tongue tangles with yours and your moan is swallowed by her, but she pulls away too quickly after biting down on your bottom lip. 

She shoves you against the island and her hand pushes you down onto it and you hiss at the coldness of the surface before she flips your skirt up over your ass and spanks both your buttcheeks hard. 

You whine and jump, lurching forward and your clit throbs. “Mommy,” you cry and the pressure of her hand on your back is gone. You hear the sound of her unbuckling her belt and unzipping her pants and you prop yourself up by your elbows, arch your back to push your ass up even further, and look over your shoulder to watch. 

Agatha takes out her cock, hard and red and already leaking everywhere, and you bite your lip at the sight of her pants still on and parted around her cock. “Fuck, honey, you’re so fucking wet,” she rasps in awe. “I’m gonna have to clean you up a little so you don’t ruin mommy’s good pants.”

She tugs your underwear over your ass, giving it another spank for good measure, and then slides them down your legs so you can step out of them. Agatha kicks your feet apart and you widen your stance so she can thoroughly wipe your wetness off your inner thighs and your cunt. An unrestrained groan slips through her lips and you watch with bated breath as her other hand firmly clasps the base of her cock in an attempt to stop what happened last time to happen again. 

“Sweetheart, fuck,” she says, holding up your underwear to the light and you gasp. You have completely turned the once-light gray fabric dark and it looks like they were just dunked in a bucket of water. Her hips jerk into her hand involuntarily. 

You’re almost entirely overwhelmed and you can feel how swollen and needy your pussy has become. “It’s not my fault, mommy,” you say pathetically. 

She huffs out a laugh, giving her cock one quick stroke. “Oh, I suppose it’s mine?” she mocks. “Cause I was being a ‘pervert’?”

Humming, you nod in agreement, giving her doe-eyes to show her that you’re nothing more than the innocent victim here and her face contorts with pleasure as she ghosts the tip of her cock over your asscheek, getting your skin sticky with precum. 

And then she raises your underwear to her nose and breathes in the scent of you deeply, and it’s like you’re watching in slow motion. 

Her eyelids fly open in a panic, knowing that she just fucked up, and the hand around her cock tightens involuntarily before she makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a groan, frustrated and furious all the same.

“Fuck — no, fuck,” she curses and her hips shoot forward as she cums, a spurt erupting and pooling on your ass and lower back. She continues to rut back and forth against your asscrack, more cum being pumped out from her pulsing cock, and you gasp at how it feels on your skin. Agatha’s hands grasp onto your hips while she rides out her orgasm, looking very embarrassed, until she finally slows her movements. 

Her spent cock twitches where it’s resting on your ass, one last strand of cum spitting out from the tip. You are in absolute disbelief that she didn’t even make it inside you again and you can feel how covered you are in her cum. It only makes the ache inside you get worse and you clench around nothing, a

An awkward silence settles over the kitchen before you clear your throat. “Well, you got further than last time,” you point out, not even sure if it’s the truth.

Agatha scoffs. “You need to learn how to shut your mouth.” Her eyes light up with an idea and she takes your sopping wet underwear, still clenched between her hand and your hip, and mops up the puddles of rapidly-cooling cum on your back. Your breathing gets heavier, the air seemingly getting thicker, and you think you know what she’s going to do. 

She yanks you off your elbows by your hair and spins you around before balling up your panties and pressing them against your lips before you open wide and she shoves them into your mouth. “Clean them up for me, pretty girl.”

You let out a muffled moan at the overwhelming taste of your pussy and her cum and your eyes roll back into your head. She watches with rapt attention as you move them around as you suck on the wet fabric before she reaches down and slides three fingers into you. 

The sudden fullness has you scrambling to grab onto the countertop behind you and she curls them up inside you deep and rough. You try to say something, maybe a beg, but it comes out garbled and neither of you understand it. 

She sets a bruising pace and your head falls back. You’re so wet there’s a squelching noise with each thrust and her thumb barely gets any friction as it rubs against your clit. You’re reduced to begging with your eyes and incoherent noises but she gets the idea. 

The taste of the two of you mixed together and her fingers filling you so deliciously is dizzying and pleasure is already heating up in your body. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take but the steel in Agatha’s eyes says that you’re going to take it all. 

It’s like she’s overcompensating as she drives her fingers into your wet cunt over and over and it keeps pushing high-pitched keens out of your mouth. Her thumb presses against your clit and you clench tightly around her and Agatha’s rhythm stutters. 

“You feel so good, baby,” she pants. “You’re so fucking hot, making me cum twice before I even get into you.” Your moans get more frantic, hips now bucking to meet her thrusts and get her deeper inside you. “Such a good slut for mommy.” 

She leans closer to suck on your neck and then trails down to your chest, leaving marks in her wake. 

It’s too much — you become overstimulated far too quickly and with a muffled cry, you cum all over her fingers when she twists them roughly inside you with a rough nip to your clavicle. 

Her three fingers still move slowly in and out of you until you wince and she pulls out, leaving a hollow emptiness in your cunt. She fishes the panties out of your mouth before shoving her wet fingers inside and making you clean those off too. Agatha’s cock twitches and she pulls her fingers out of your mouth, smearing your saliva all over your cheeks.

“Fuck,” you say, very out of breath, and she hums in agreement. “I can’t believe you came from practically nothing again.” 

Agatha’s cheeks redden and she rolls her eyes while trying to seem unbothered. “It’s not my fault I have such a hot slut for a wife.” 

You smirk and kiss her mouth, slipping your tongue past her lips so she can taste the combination of both of you. “Well, you know what they say,” you tell her matter-of-factly. She raises an eyebrow. “Third time’s the charm.” 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights

[vodkauntie]

i cant stop thinking about this. i am so... im disgusted. there is evil in the way we have allowed institutions to rob us of literacy, context, and meaning. idk maybe i'll write something more coherent later, but it feels like the years of attacks on education and attempts to isolate and alienate people from one another having a physical symptom to point at.

we don't have media literacy anymore: most people are incapable of researching and putting together the pieces, and if not incapable, do not spend the time to do it--especially in a museum, where we expect to be given context.

we don't have context anymore: the statement was where people received the vital information to understand the work.

we don't have meaning anymore: without context there is no understanding, and so we feel no connection to the decay. we do not see the decay, we are not implicated in the decay.

what was a tool of empathy, dragging us into understanding that institutions and complacent people are complicit in the mass death of a marginalized people, is now... what? a halloween bucket left on the porch by people too unbothered to engage with the world?

the david zwirner gallery and the felix gonzalez torres foundation in the smithsonian removed the descriptive plaque for portrait of ross in la by felix gonzalez-torres. the old plaque explained portrait for ross' origins as the artist's partner's aids related death, and replaced it with a plaque with absolutely no information about the piece itself, who ross was, or who gonzalez-torres was either. portrait of ross was also reeranged to lay on the floor long ways instead of in a pile as it typically is situated, and the plaque outside the exhibition FOR GONZALEZ-TORRES omits his sexuality, as well as his aids related death. i'm in utter disbelief

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: how they behave on the Internet and in correspondence with you🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Gang No Eul x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f)

Warnings: deviation from the canon, AU without squid game.

A/N: Thank you very much for 300 readers on my channel! I tried very hard to write something interesting for you!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Her avatar on the social network⬇️

How does she behave on the Internet

•The girl doesn't really like to put her photos on her avatar, so she decided to put bouquets of flowers that you give her. She always takes pictures of them as a souvenir.

•Ju is subscribed to groups about cooking, about transgender people, about fashion and groups about your favorite series and shows.

•She has a closed account and not many friends. Of which you, transgender friends, with whom she is very good friends, because common interests and destinies have united them.

How does she behave in your correspondence

•She likes to send you good morning pictures in the morning or just cute images of animals, flowers, nature.

•When you are both at work, she tries to write to you every free minute, and you immediately try to answer her.

•She still can't learn how to send you voice messages, so she writes everything manually!

•Hyun Ju writes you a lot about love, even at a distance you should feel that she loves you very much and takes care of you.

•The girl likes to send cute emojis in every message. Even if they are not quite appropriate, she will still do it! That's how she tries to convey all her emotionality.

«Baby, how are you? How are things at work? Didn't you forget to have lunch? 😊 I miss you a lot!! 😭😭😭 I'm waiting for the evening to enjoy you as soon as possible!! ❤️❤️❤️ I love you very much!!! ❤️❤️❤️»

«I got off work early!! 🥳🥳🥳 I'll go to the store now, tell me, do you need to buy something there? ☺️ I can also pick you up after work! ❤️»

«It's only been an hour since we parted, but I miss you already!!! 😭😭😭😭»

«Baby, maybe we can call at lunch??? I miss you a lot!! ❤️❤️❤️ or should we go to a cafe and have lunch together?? 😊😊😊»

Thanos (Su Bong)

His avatar on the social network⬇️

How he behaves on the Internet

•The guy has a lot of photos in his profile: photos from his concert, clubs, with friends, ordinary selfies, photos with you. But he always puts on the avatar only those photos that you personally took. You are a personal photographer for him. This is how he expresses his love.

•Su Bong is subscribed to groups about music, clubs, and some of his fan groups.

•He has an open profile, but not many friends. He adds only loved ones: you, his close friends, work colleagues. Because of all this, he has a lot of subscribers, as fans want to be his friends.

How he behaves in your correspondence

•He likes to send you his funny photos, especially when you are far away from him.

•Su tries to write to you every free minute, because he is ashamed that he spends more time in the studio.

•He is also a fan of flirting even in correspondence, which will soon grow into a much vulgar one.

«Now I'm sitting in the studio, but I could lie in bed with you and do something more interesting😏»

«Fuck, I'm going to be late today. And I miss you so much, baby. If you want, come to my studio, we'll be all alone»

«Nam invites you and me to his club for a party, I'll go if you agree to join. He said he was really waiting for us»

«Fuck, baby, I miss you!»

Gang No Eul

Her avatar on social networks⬇️

How does she behave on the Internet

•The girl doesn’t have her profile photos, as she registered for you.

•But then she decided to put a photo on her avatar, which you took quietly. She seemed very cute and decided to put it on. All for you. ⬇️

•She is not subscribed to any groups, she does not have time to read what they write there.

•Since No Eul registered only for you, her profile is closed, and you are the only friend. She doesn't need anyone else.

How does she behave in your correspondence

•The girl is very worried about you, so she often asks about your condition, it happens when you are both at work, or only her.

•She doesn't really know how to express her love, it manifests itself not only in life, but also in correspondence. So don't be offended by her, she tries very hard, but everything goes gradually!!

•Since she does not know how to show her feelings strongly, the girl puts ❤️ in almost every message so that you at least feel that she loves you very much.

•No Eul also tries to write to you every free minute, because she can't even pick up the phone while working.

•She also puts dots after each sentence, but this does not mean that she is offended, but simply observes punctuation.

«How are you? How do you feel? I finally have a break and I was able to write to you. ❤️»

«After work, I'll pick you up, because it's very late and all kinds of terrible men walk around.»

«I'll be back late. Go to bed without me. I'm sorry it happened that way. ❤️»

«Maybe we can have lunch together? I want to spend more time with you. ❤️»

Nam Gyu

His avatar on the social network⬇️

How he behaves on the Internet

•The guy has a lot of photos in his profile, especially those related to cats. He also has photos from the club, with friends, ordinary photos and joint photos with you. And since he loves cats, he photoshops the cat's ears and muzzle and puts it on his avatar for the sake of a joke.

•Gyu is subscribed to bands about music, cats, about his club, as well as fan groups about his friend Thanos.

•He has an open profile and a lot of friends. Unlike Thanos, he adds absolutely everyone, as he is a very friendly person.

How he behaves in your correspondence

•He sends you a lot of meme pictures with cats, well, he loves them very much.

•Uses both light flirting and more vulgar. Especially when you haven't seen him for a long time because of work.

•Nam likes to send you emojis with hearts, so he expresses his love for you.

•A guy can sometimes write with mistakes, and also not follow the punctuation. As he likes to say: I write as I feel.

«Kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right? 😏❤️»

«Kitten come to my club I'm bored😭😭😭😭»

«Thanos said he was better than me! 😡 I told him no because I have such a cool girl like you❤️»

«Meow-meow I'm bored maybe we'll call? Or are you busy now?»

Park Gyeong Seok

His avatar on the social network⬇️

P.S. I wanted to take another photo where I can add you, but I didn't find anything like it, so I took this one. But let's imagine that he has a photo on his avatar where all three of you are standing.

How he behaves on the Internet

•He publishes photos with his daughter and with you, sometimes only Na Yeon photos, rarely his photos.

•The man is subscribed to groups about art and psychology.

•He has a closed profile and few people. You and his closest friends are among friends.

How he behaves in your correspondence

•He writes you big messages about his love, because he wants to cheer you up for the whole day.

•Also, a man is very worried about you and his daughter, so he almost always asks about your well-being.

•He likes to send you photos of nature that he took while in the park, he also likes to take pictures of his paintings.

•Gyeong likes to send you laughing emojis, we don't forget that he is much older than you, so you don't always understand his jokes, and his emojis sometimes annoy you, but you don't confess to him because you don't want to offend.

«How are you there? What do you do? Na Yeon is not capricious?»

«I love you very much. ❤️»

«I'll try to finish the work earlier and then the three of us can go for a walk in the park and eat ice cream.»

«There's such a funny situation here! A dog is barking at the package near me, it probably thinks it's a monster. 🤣🤣🤣🤣»

🩵🩵🩵

[florencebirdsong]

Bent Over

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: joining in on Agatha and Rio's special brand of foreplay is just like flipping a coin

Tags:  breeding kink, dubcon, strap referred to as cock, biting, light scratching, manhandling, slight boot humping, light degradation,  implied pain kink, oral, overstimulation, Sir Rio, Mistress Agatha, switch Rio, mommy Agatha, toy Reader, pet names - good girl, dirty girl, pet

She/her pronouns used to refer to R (sorry it’s not the usual they/them I was leaning diff when writing)

masterlist | ao3

Authors note: fr wish the world would stop kicking me in my nonexistent balls but at least this one shot is finally here! Ignore the placeholder name that stuck ahshdjdjd I lowkey like it now. Also, this is the witches road Rio, not soft baby or crashing out Rio.

Note: Agatha much prefers having the most power at any moment than winning. Rio’s referring to one specific event to get under Agatha’s skin 💞

You trail in curiously after Rio. She stalked to Agatha’s office with the clear intention to bother her. Something that will either end really well or really badly for you.

Rio has Agatha’s attention instantly but she decides to play it oblivious. Like the tension in the room isn’t rising by the second. Rio prowls around the walls of the room, pretending to look at the artefacts scattered about the shelves. You linger by the door, just in case this turns into a genuine fight and not the foreplay you’re expecting.

Rio knocks an intricate…statue thing off the shelf. You have no idea what is it but it shatters when it hits the ground. You wish you knew. Its importance would tell you which end on the fight-foreplay spectrum they’re currently dancing in.

“Is there something you needed?” Agatha asks, sounding very unimpressed.

“You couldn’t tell?”

“No. I assumed Death, a cosmic entity, would be capable of using her words when she wants something.”

“I much prefer using my tongue.”

“That is what you use to make words, dear,” she says before she concedes, “In this form, anyway.”

Rio flashes her skull face and you swallow. It’s been a while since you’ve played in that form and the tease has you clenching your thighs together.

“Is there a reason why you’ve come to bother me?” Agatha asks.

“I’m not allowed to spend time with my dearest love?” Rio finally prowls towards Agatha’s desk.

“Don’t be rude,” Agatha tsks and flicks her fingers at you.

Rio turns slowly to look at you. You stay very still. She crooks a finger and you cautiously approach her. If she didn’t want you in the room you wouldn’t be.

She gently cups your face in her hands and it’s more nerve wracking than comforting. She studies your expression as she scans your face.

“Did I hurt your feelings?”

It’s not said with the mocking sympathy that would come from Agatha in this situation. Your eyes flicker towards her but Rio is too close for you to see past her.

“No,” you say simply.

She gives you another considering look. You wonder how much your emotions differ from Agatha and if Rio finds it hard to understand your own. You reach up to cradle her wrist but you barely move before you find yourself on Agatha’s desk. It happens so fast you don’t have time to catch yourself.  Rio’s claws land between your shoulder blades and slams you down. It doesn’t hurt as much as it should, although the shock of the impact still flows through you.

“Play nice,” Agatha admonishes like she has a leg to stand on when it comes to that. 

“Did I hurt you?” Rio asks curiously.

You’re still too stunned to respond.

“Probably,” Agatha answers for you. “I’m sure there’s some lovely bruises forming.”

Rio’s hands lightly run down your sides and you know she’s picturing the marks she’s creating. Purple flares and she doesn’t have to imagine. The polished wood of Agatha’s desk is cool against your skin and start in surprise.

You look up at Agatha to see her dark eyes already on you. It’s too early for you to be pleading but you know your face is already giving you away.

“Rio, why don’t we try what we talked about earlier,” Agatha says, lounging back in her chair.

Rio’s nails dig into your skin. You don’t know what she’s talking about but you know exactly what expression Rio has on her face. A wolf standing at attention, about to snap its teeth.

“Since you want to so badly,” Agatha says in a way you know in digs at Rio.

A moment you see often in the middle of their games.

“Are you sure, Agatha?” Rio asks.

The rest of your clothes disappear.

“Ca- “ your mouth clicks shut without your permission.

It’ll be more of a toy night than a participant night it seems. 

Something hard nudges your entrance and you shiver. It’s all the warning you get before Rio sheathes herself inside of you in one go. You gasp and relish the way Agatha’s eyes snap down to you. She licks her lips and your eyelids droop as Rio does it again. 

“We both know how much you like to be first,” Rio continues to goad as she slowly pulls out before thrusting all the way back in.

You don’t know what they’re talking about, you rarely do in these moments, and Rio scratching her nails down your back distracts you from that vague curiosity. The fresh sting has you arching. It doesn’t draw Agatha’s eye this time. She’s too deep into her game with Rio to give in. Knowing this doesn’t stop a little part of you pouting.

You squirm on Rio’s cock instead of listening to their next set of jibes. They only make sense to you when one of them knows it will get to the other. As hot as their foreplay is, it can take so long. Too focused on your throbbing cunt, you don’t think about the consequences as you whine and kick out. 

Their attention instantly snaps to you and you freeze. The feeling of being a rabbit caught in a wolf den creeps up on you. Agatha’s face turns into a fake pout that has you shivering. 

“Is someone feeling left out?” she asks and you hurriedly shake your head but it’s too late. 

Rio’s threads her fingers through your hair, grips firmly and forces your head down. You whimper. It’s impossible to survive the two of them.

“We don’t want that,” Rio says with a grin you can hear.

Agatha is about to give her exactly what she wants. No consequences. All because you couldn’t wait a little longer. You can’t even try to apologise. Agatha will only act oblivious.

“I just want to know what you’re talking about,” you try.

Sometimes playing their game works in your favour, even if you always lose. This time, it only seems to amuse Agatha more.

“Poor thing doesn’t even know what they risk every time you fuck her,” Agatha says to Rio. 

She drinks in your confused expression.

“It’s not surprising,” Rio says as she plays with the fresh scratches down your back. “Her confused little face is what drew you to her in the first place.”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly as she gives you a considering look.

“Rio is a cosmic entity, dear,” she  reminds you like you aren’t well aware of that whenever Rio’s does…anything, but especially when she’s inside of you. “And we are witches. We aren’t restricted by the usual limitations when it comes to death. Or life,” she quirks her brow.

You suddenly become very aware of how vulnerable you are.

“You mean she can…?”

Agatha’s smirk answers the question for you. 

Hot breath skates along the back of your neck before Rio growls lowly. Instinct has you freezing again. She noses at the delicate skin of your neck. You aren’t naive enough to think it’s a comforting motion.

“Yes,” Agatha says simply.

“I -” is all you get out before Rio’s sharp teeth sink into your shoulder. The ache is a familiar pain, one you know will soon turn to pleasure, yet you still instinctively cry out, bucking. 

Rio has too tight of a hold. She’s going to- is all you can think before her cock is sinking back inside of you. She doesn’t do the teasing pace of before and her cock stretches you open with every thrust.

“Please,” you gasp, “I don’t want- “

“Yes, you do,” Agatha says with all the confidence in the world. “It’s easy to see into your head, hon. You want to be owned. Completely. Something we’re well equipped to do.”

All you can manage is a pathetic whine. She’s never said it so plainly before. Rio is groaning against your back in a way that tells you she’s close. It only makes you clench tighter. Her claws dig into your skin as she holds you still, controlling every movement as she fills you over and over again. You can’t look away from Agatha. The only thing that gives away how much this is effecting her is her slightly heavier breathing. She has that self-satisfied smirk that drives you crazy. 

“Take it like a good pet,” Agatha says and Rio stills inside of you.

You swear you feel something warm flood you as she groans above you. Her teeth find a new spot to dig into. Heat floods through you and it’s all you can do to hold onto the desk as you come. Your eyes shut as you arch but you can still feel Agatha’s gaze searing into you. Your orgasm ends in a whimper. Rio doesn’t release her teeth until you go limp. With a satisfied growl she lets go of you.

“Feel better?” Agatha asks, now lounging back casually as she watches Rio.

“Not yet,” Rio says as her hands travel down to grope your ass. She’s still inside of you.

“Don’t be greedy,”Agatha says.

“I’m not. There’s no saying whether it’s taken yet.”

“Death itself can’t guarantee it on the first go?” Agatha’s voice is almost mocking.

“Not when she wants another round,” Rio says in a voice that tells you she’s wearing a sharp grin. 

You grind back against her, wanting nothing more than to feel like that again. Nothing more except with the taste of Agatha in your mouth too. Agatha clicks her tongue.

“If you can’t get it right the first time then it’s my turn,” she says.

“Oh? Didn’t you say this is something only Death can do?”

“I am a witch, dear,” Agatha says.

As hot as you find this, you wish they’d stop in favour of getting back to the fucking you part. 

“You’ll have to take her,” Rio says.

Agatha raises an eyebrow.

“Give her to me and I’ll suck you off,” Agatha says.

You can feel the way Rio twitches. Agatha is offering something that is usually hard won, yet Rio sees saying yes as a kind of losing.

“Sir -”

Agatha grips your shoulder and digs her thumb into one of your fresh bite marks before you can continue. Your words turn into a strangled whimper. You don’t risk begging to her instead. 

The pressure lessens when you stay quiet but Agatha doesn’t pull away. That combined with the sting of Rio’s claws has you unconsciously grinding back on Rio. It’s probably lessening your chance of Agatha fucking you full, but you’re full now and that’s all you can concentrate on.

Rio grinds her hips forward and Agatha’s hand snaps out to grip her chin. Rio stills and you can’t help the whine that escapes you. They both ignore you.

“Fuck her again and I won’t touch you for a week,” Agatha warns in a low voice.

You swear you hear Rio swallow. Her claws retreating tell you she’s given in. A second later the world tilts and you find yourself on your knees in front of Agatha. You stare up at her with wide eyes. Her pupils are blown and her hair is that slightly messy it always gets when she’s worked up. The wonders of magic. You want to run your hands through it.

You’re distracted from the thought by something dripping down your thigh and you pray Agatha can’t see it from this angle. Her boot lifting to nudge your thigh tells you otherwise.

“Dirty girl,” she murmurs before tilting her boot higher.

You twitch when it touches your sensitive core but don’t dare move otherwise. You want her to touch you, or to touch her. If she’s in an ultimatum kind of mood than complete obedience is the only way to get what you want. Her smile stretches wider and she presses harder. Pleasure sings up your spine. You’re trembling but you manage to resist the urge to grind down. Remembering her reaction when you tried to use words earlier, you beg with your eyes instead.

“Good girl,” she says and you shiver. She sits back down and spreads her legs. “Eat me out and I’ll think about rewarding you.”

You’re crawling forward before her pants are off. You run your hands up her thighs a second before they disappear. She allows the contact and you follow the trail with you nose, taking a deep breath when you hit her soaked folds. Surprisingly, she doesn’t move a hand to your hair like usual. You take the opportunity to suck a dark mark into her thigh, hoping Rio’s reaction to it will lean more towards fucking you than the punishing she is prone to. Not wanting to risk either of them pulling you away from your prize, you find Agatha’s clit with your tongue the second you’re done. You lick firm circles around it and she groans.

“I thought I was the one getting head,” Rio says, closer now.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart, it doesn’t suit you,” Agatha says.

“That isn’t what you said the last time I was on my knees,” Rio says.

Your pace stutters and Agatha laughs lowly. She threads her hand through your hair when you’re too overwhelmed by the image to remember to continue. You don’t need more than a slight push forward before you swiping your tongue over her clit again. 

“Why don’t you get on your knees now? I might change my mind again,” Agatha says.

You barely resist the urge to turn around. Agatha and Rio have the most fun in a power struggle so you’ve seen them in all kinds of roles and positions. You’ve even seen them kneel for each other. But it have Rio kneel beside you is something you’ve never experienced. You aren’t apart of the power struggle, although you’re usually used within it. You’re always firmly below at least one of them. Nether have subbed beside you. You clench your thighs together and try to distract yourself by moving lower. Dipping your tongue teasingly into Agatha, you wait for her tight grip to guide you further. She instantly pushes you closer and you eagerly comply.

It’s enough to distract you that you don’t notice the warmth of another body until it’s brushing against you. You freeze but Agatha’s nails dig in warningly. You move your focus back to her clit to try and disguise your distraction. For the very first time you don’t want to spend the next six hours eating Agatha out and you debate using your fingers without explicit permission.

You can’t see Rio but you can feel her slowly lean against you, which means she’s also leaning against Agatha’s leg. It takes you a moment to realise she’s resting her head against Agatha’s thigh. You imagine the look of Rio’s face as she looks up at Agatha, one you’ve only seen once before. Soft, open, submissive. Agatha’s other hand moves to gently stroke her hair. You fight every reaction you have, terrified of breaking the moment and losing this experience before it truly begins. 

Agatha makes a deeply satisfied noise. You immediately move down and curl your tongue inside of her. She squeezes around your tongue as she comes, moaning in unison with you. You don’t stop until Agatha tugs you away. She lets go before you can rest against her and you only get a moment of confusion before a new hand takes her place. Rio pulls you back further before turning your face towards her.

Instead of kissing you like you’re eagerly expecting, she licks over your lips. Agatha has soaked your face and Rio diligently cleans you up. Her breath is hot. The feeling of her tongue on you, of her kneeling against you, has you shaking. You’re too overwhelmed to do anything more than kneel there.

Rio doesn’t grace you with a kiss when she pulls away. You’re too dazed to miss it. It takes you a long moment to open your eyes again. 

Rio’s hand slides down to the back of your neck, thumb gently stroking the skin there, but she doesn’t take her eyes away from Agatha. 

“I’ll reward you later. I have a pet to breed,” Agatha says to her.

Rio doesn’t react, not even a twitch. Hands pull you up into Agatha’s lap. You’re straddling her for barely a moment before something hard nudges you. Looking down you’re shocked to see a green strap-on instead of a purple one. You want to see Rio’s reaction but Agatha’s grip is iron.

You hold your breath as Agatha guides her cock to your entrance. She doesn’t need to push you onto it, you sink down eagerly. You’re surprised again as she allows you to set your own pace. Her hands on your hips steadying you instead of controlling. Moving your eyes from the flashes of green to her deep blue ones, you’re unsurprised to find them studying you. 

“Mommy’s going to come in you,” she says and a shiver runs down your back.

Her fingers dig into your skin and you wish she was moving you like she usually does. Your steady pace turns shaky and uneven. Too desperate to come to be able to get yourself there.

“Please,” whine you. Agatha’s eyes drop to your lips and you say it again, “Please, mistress.”

Agatha growls and pulls you up. Your heart drops, thinking she’s pulling you off, until she slams you back down again. You moan and grasp desperately at her shoulders. Her eyes don’t leave yours as she makes you ride her. 

You’re trembling and desperate. The heat that had been slowly building again flares through you. You hold on as long as you can, not wanting it to end. Victory shines in Agatha’s eyes when you finally snap and that warmth floods you again.

Agatha runs a soothing hand up and down your back as you come down, curled into her shoulder. It takes until you have most of the feeling back in your body to realise Rio has been quiet for too long. You lean back from Agatha, trying not to get distracted with her still inside of you. Her amused smirk doesn’t reassure you. Claws curl around your hips and you freeze mid-turn. Rio moulds herself against your back. She slides her cheek against your own. A slight pressure has you staring back at Agatha, Rio’s sharp grin against your cheek. Those claws lift you half-way up Agatha’s cock.

“Wait,” you gasp and uselessly pull at them as they start to push you back down.

“No,” Rio growls and you stop, listening to your survival instincts. “If you’re so desperate to come to Agatha wearing one of my straps, then you’re going to do it again.”

You whimper. Your cunt is sensitive after two hard orgasms and you know you won’t survive another. Not functioning. You pretend the idea doesn’t make you drip. 

Agatha doesn’t do anything to save you. She leans back in her chair and settles her hands low on your thighs, prepared to enjoy the show. 

Rio bounces you on her strap without mercy and you’re struggling not to come within moments. Their scents surround you, Agatha’s eyes devour you and Rio’s claws make themselves known every time she moves you. 

Rio murmurs something under her breath and Agatha jerks suddenly. You have no control to stop and see what’s wrong. Her eyes slam shut, grip turns tight and her mouth drops open into an expression you’re familiar with.

Rio’s made it so Agatha can feel what’s happening to the strap-on. The realisation pushes you even higher. You’re too far gone to truly help with Rio’s movements but you give yourself completely to them as you watch Agatha’s face. Her head slowly tilts back. The desperate urge to kiss her surges and you lean in.

Rio grips the back of your hair and holds you still. You whimper.

“Don’t ruin my fun.”

Agatha’s eyes languidly open. “I don’t remember telling you to stop,” she says.

“Someone was trying to take more than she’s been given,” Rio purrs.

You shake your head but it’s useless.

“Eating your mistress out and being used as a fleshlight isn’t enough?” You don’t get a chance to respond. Purple swirls around your wrists and forces them behind your back. Her sharp nails dig in when she grips your chin. “Take it like a good girl before I leave you tied up for a week.” You try to nod but her grip is too tight. “Say yes mistress.”

“Yes, mistress.”

Agatha pushes your chin away and Rio starts fucking you on her strap again. It’s all too much and you’re falling apart within minutes, clinging desperately to her as pleasure consumes you.

Rio forces your hips up again and you can’t even make a noise of protest. Your bones are jelly. Your everything is jelly.

Agatha clicks her tongue. “Stop before you break her.”

Rio rolls her eyes and lets you go. You slump into Agatha’s hold. “But she’s so fun when she’s been fucked stupid.”

“I have plans for tomorrow,” Agatha says. There’s no room left in you for curiosity. “And I’d rather you focus on your own reward.”

Rio’s eyes snap to Agatha’s. Agatha lifts you and gets up before placing you back on her chair. You reach for her, confused in your slowness. She grasps your chin.

“Watch,” she commands.

You nod once the word makes it through your slow thoughts. The command giving a bit more life to them. They speed up more as you watch Agatha slowly kneel down in front of Rio. Swallowing roughly, you grip the chair tight. Wondering if you’re dreaming.This is a sight you rarely see. Rio has won dominance before and even allowed you to watch on rare occasions but this feels different.

Agatha wraps her hand around the base of Rio’s cock and begins to slowly stroke it. Rio looks almost frozen, riveted by the sight. Agatha slowly licking her from base to tip doesn’t help.

She wraps her lips around Rio’s head. They don’t break eye contact.

Rio groans when Agatha takes her deeper. Agatha hollows her cheeks and Rio’s hips jerk. Her hand lands in Agatha’s hair but doesn’t push.

She doesn’t last as long as you’re expecting. She was more worked up than she was letting on and the sight of her coming with a loud groan has you grinding against the chair despite your sensitive cunt.

“Good boy,” Agatha husks when she pulls away and Rio’s whole body shudders. Agatha gets up and sits on her desk. “Now fuck me like you mean it and maybe I’ll give you another go with our pet over there.”

[nymphaea-blue]

How would Rafayel be as your lover?

Info : 700+ word count, inspired by Radiant Halo - tender moments, fluff, slight mentions of possessive Rafayel, reader wears makeup.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would not hesitate to spend money on you, he has more than enough. He would take you on expensive dates, buy you designer clothes (or design some for you himself) and buy you gifts on a weekly basis because he can, and he is more than happy to spoil you a little.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would often help you with your makeup and clothing. He knows how to do makeup, so all you need to do is ask and he will do it with no hesitation. It's an intimate moment, one would think, with how Rafayel always looks at you when he does your makeup and helps you get ready. It's a small, domestic action but he truly cares about your comfort and he wants you to shine as brightly as possible.

“Try not to blink, cutie. We don’t want you to look like you have a blackeye the entire evening, right?” Rafayel teased you as he did your eye makeup. You were used to doing your makeup on your own, but this is a feeling you were slowly growing accustomed to as well. “Okay. Open up your eyes for me, I need to see if your eyeliner is symmetrical.” And you did as he asked, but your face immediately flushed as you noticed how close to your face he was and you couldn’t help but admire him. His face carried his signature smile that you adored and his eyes stared at you with so much love as they looked around your face, so focused on the task but also focused on you as a whole. You didn’t know you were staring until he spoke again. “It looks pretty symmetrical to me, come on, let’s go… Whatcha staring at, hm?” 

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would paint you many, many times. Most of the pieces are in his home, those are the ones that are more detailed or show your precious moments spent together, he loves to look at them and cherish how you look. A few rare paintings of you would be in galleries for others to watch, especially during his big exhibitions. Those ones are just mere representations of you, still painted with love but a mist of secrets as well, you aren't shown in full detail but everyone knows it's you. None of the pieces showcasing you ever get sold, no matter how much they want to pay for it. He wouldn't be able to deal with it if someone could just stare at you all day, you are just his after all.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would protect you. He hired you as his bodyguard but with time, he finds himself doing that job more often. No matter how small it is, if you get uncomfortable or are in danger he will be by your side - no questions asked. He would fight for you, if he had to. Those hands aren’t just for art after all, they are perfect for holding you after a rough moment as well, and they can deliver punches too if someone dares to even try to get their hands on you without your permission.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would have a whole room cleared for you in his home, just in case you would like to move in. Of course, if you are comfortable you are more than welcome to sleep in his room, the bed is big enough anyways and if not - then after a while of being dramatic he can sleep on the couch… or in the bathtub, for some reason.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would be such a gentleman. He always opens the doors for you, no matter if you are entering a restaurant or just sitting down in the passenger seat of his luxurious car. He will gently take off your coat and hang it on the back of your chair, alongside your purse which he will happily carry later if your shoulder starts hurting. Whenever he wants to ask you for a dance, he will offer you a hand first with a polite “May I?”. Whenever you are out during a more serious occasion, he has everything you might need in his car or nearby - a change of shoes, bandaids, your makeup essentials, as well as a matching coat or something to cover you up if you get cold. He might not always act seriously and his demeanor can be playful, but when it comes to love, he does it right and it’s clear with the way he acts around you as if you are the most precious thing in the world, because to him - you are.

[fangel]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The dollhouse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look doll-like.

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

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

“Perfect.”

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

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

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

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

[astrologydray]

Astrology observations 3😵‍💫

🪡 People with Pluto in the 10th house can go from being underestimated to running the whole damn show😫.

🪡 Saturn in the 9th house can make someone skeptical of belief systems until they’ve done their own research.

🪡 Moon in the 4th house people are deeply connected to their childhood memories—good or bad.

🪡 Mars conjunct Pluto people don’t get mad often, but when they do? It’s nuclear😊.

🪡 Sun conjunct Mercury people talk about themselves without realizing it—it’s not ego, it’s just their mind and identity fused together.

🪡 Saturn in the 1st house can make someone look more mature or serious from a young age.

🪡 Neptune trine Venus people have an ethereal beauty that feels almost otherworldly😇.

🪡 Jupiter in the 2nd house? Money seems to find you, but you probably spend it just as fast😭.

🪡 A person with a Grand Cross in fixed signs You’re incredibly determined but may struggle with stubbornness.

🪡 Neptune in the 1st house people often get misread because they reflect what others want to see.

🪡 If you have a Grand Cross in your chart, you’re built for high-stakes situations—you thrive under pressure.

🪡 Neptune conjunct the Ascendant? People either idealize you or misunderstand you completely😔.

🪡 Moon square Saturn people often felt like they had to suppress their emotions from a young age🖤.

🪡 A Yod with Mercury at the apex(point)? You’re meant to share your ideas, even if your communication skills took time to develop🧠.

🪡 Pluto square Sun people go through multiple ego deaths in life—each version of them is stronger than the last.

🪡 Venus conjunct Mars people have undeniable sexual chemistry—whether they realize it or not🥵.

🪡 people with Jupiter conjunct the Midheaven Success tends to find you, even when you’re not looking for it��.

🪡 Mercury square Neptune placements struggle with daydreaming mid-conversation or saying things that don’t quite land.

🪡 A Grand Trine in water? Your intuition is your superpower, but your emotions can be overwhelming😖.

🪡 If you have a Grand Trine, your talents come naturally—but you might not fully appreciate them because they feel effortless.

🪡 A Virgo might correct you, but it’s only because they care (and can’t help themselves)🖤.

🪡 Gemini placements have five different versions of themselves, and they rotate depending on who they’re around😭.

🪡 If a Leo goes silent, something is very wrong. Please go check on em😖.

🪡 If a Scorpio lets you in, they’ve already tested you mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

[plethorawrites]

TW: Mentions of dub con/non consensual intimacy or coercion. (From his past lovers, not reader) (A/N this is my favorite thing I've ever writtenreader

TW: NSFW content.

2.5k word count

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Okay, this could be a bit of a hot take, but I am a firm believer in soft Jason Todd during sex.

Especially at the beginning of a relationship. He died young and his only sexual experiences were with Talia, who groomed him, Essence, who he believed betrayed him for the longest time and maybe Artemis, (Idk if that's canon? Can someone confirm or deny?) who was probably pretty rough given her arrogant, abrasive, and violent personality.

So, when he dates you, he's more than just hesitant. He's pretty much terrified. But he's used to hiding his feelings because they make him feel vulnerable and weak, which he hates. When you start tearing down his walls, he starts to panic. He likes spending time with you, thinking about you, kissing you. Especially that last part.

But it never goes very far because he always pulls away when things get more heated. Like, you in his lap, him nearly fully hard before quickly picking you up by your hips and moving you to the other side of the couch before standing up, clearing his throat and leaving.

It takes over two months before he feels comfortable enough to even tell you the reason he doesn't want to be intimate and the only reason he did is because you started to feel like he wasn't attracted to you or you had something wrong.

He rushed to reassure you that wasn't the case and finally told you the —partial— truth. He had scars he didn't want you seeing, he had bad prior experiences, he felt like he was being used almost every time he slept with someone and couldn't stand that feeling because it made him physically ill.

It took several weeks after that to slowly adapt to that realization and discuss how to make that feeling go away. Taking things slow, making it last, keeping it gentle, seemed to be the best way. And it was somehow perfect and tortuous all at once. He let you ride his thigh, at first. That was the first time he'd ever allowed any form of intimacy between you too. Partially because you looked desperate and he felt bad and partially because he genuinely wanted to see what you looked like while doing that.

Not to mention, he was still too afraid to be the one doing anything. So, it was best if he just helped.

His grip was firm, his eyes glued to you. You whispered more praise in those few minutes than he had heard from anyone in months all together, maybe even the year. He felt good. He was helping you. You appreciated it. You appreciated him. He was attractive. You were thanking him for giving this to you. Practically begging for his help.

And it made his heart clench, not to mention his teeth. There were other forms of physical intimacy after that, still only to you, because he didn't want to risk showing his scars or get that nausea in his stomach again during sex. You'd allow him pretty much anything and everything, if it meant he was more comfortable with you and your body. Sliding his hand under your shirt while you slept over (quite literally just falling asleep after eating dinner together) brushing his knuckles against your breasts, hesitant to touch them, but finding comfort in it all at once.

You assured him three different times—before he did it, when his hand was just barely under your shirt, and when his fingers first tugged at your nipples. It's when he's finally a bit more comfortable, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade that you hum and roll over. Your hair finds his hair, stroking it and he presses his lips to your neck, almost on instinct. You let him kiss lower and lower, gently guiding his head towards your breasts, all while repeating more and more praise, reminding him he's under no obligation to do anything, ever, if he doesn't feel comfortable.

But he does. With you, he does.

It leads to him kissing and sucking at your chest until he loses track of time and you're painfully wet. That was plenty, you promised. He doesn't need to do anymore than that. But he does, because he doesn't want to take his hands off your soft skin. So you gently drag his hand down, keeping the other firmly on his shoulder while you stare into his eyes, as his fingers slide through your slick. A sharp inhale makes him hold his breath. The other women he'd been with only ever wanted the most physical part of sex, never to do something like this. You were so soft and warm, assuring him he was doing fine while guiding his hand until you eventually couldn't keep looking at him and had to close your eyes. He liked that. A lot.

The way your hand moved, letting him do what he wanted while you gripped the sheets. He listened so well, trying to make you happy or just keep making those sounds—his name falling from your lips. If you wanted his fingers to move faster, they would. If you said deeper, they were. If you said to curl them, they'd curl. You were so... captivating, he had found. Usually, he was too in his head, so focused on how long until it was over that he never even considered being able to enjoy it.

But he wasn't rushing with you. He didn't want you to stop saying his name. When you finally came down from the high he'd brought you, your first words were a question, asking if he was alright. When he nodded, you started telling him how perfect he was, how good that felt. He liked that almost as much as your moans.

Yet, you felt guilty, never taking care of him. He never asked. In fact he repeatedly denied the offer until you chose to stop asking rather than upset him.

Until one day, when you were on the couch, leaning against him as he read, your hand perched on his thigh. He didn't know if it was the fact that you were wearing such a low cut tank top or how you'd been absent mindedly rubbing circles around his sweatpants while reading over his shoulder, but he was worked up. It took twice as long to finish a page with your motion making his mind go to places it shouldn't.

He was worried, about you rejecting his desires, or something like that. Something mocking or doing something that was uncomfortable. People had done that before, eliciting physical reactions he didn't want to feel. But he wanted to try, to feel you on him the way he'd felt you.

His hands grabbed yours and when you looked up in confusion, he just gently and silently slid your hand a bit further on his leg, towards his erection. He'd absolutely taken care of himself, and often, because it was a quick stress relief that left him tired before bed. But lately, the more he did it, the more his mind wandered to you and that, for some reason, made him finish a lot harder than usual.

Your hand brushed against it and you asked if he was sure before pressing a kiss to the side of his shoulder and sinking down to the carpet below, on your knees in between his legs. Running your hands up and down his thighs in a soothing sort of gesture both calmed him and felt like torture all at once. But it only lasted a little bit, while you promised him he was in control, because that's what he needed to hear.

That he could say no at any time if he was even the slightest bit uncomfortable. When you slid his boxers down, his heart jumped in panic. Of course you noticed the scars on his thighs instantly. But ignored them, because he still hardly ever showed them aside for occasionally wearing short sleeves. You were silent and he was scared but all you'd said at last, was that he was pretty.

"Pretty."

That word had never been used to describe him. Not before his death and certainly not after. Even the feeling of your gentle kiss on his skin and your thumb swiping over the top had him gripping the pillows, still stressed. Your hand took his, squeezing it when your lips finally enveloped him, his length disappearing into your mouth. His breaths were shaky, his hold on your hand getting painfully tight.

He felt like he was in pure bliss, his mouth falling open to pant as his head fell back against the couch practically begging you to keep going. The feeling of your hums had done him in. And his moans, loud and tough, getting whiny towards the end as the euphoria wore off assured you he was fine. He slid his boxers and sweats up quickly, his cheeks red, from the act not embarrassment (he'd say and lie) but you just laid your head on his knee, staring at him, asking how he was.

Good was an understatement. Great, too. Incredible. Amazing. None of those compliments came out. He couldn't speak, just looked back up at the ceiling as his breathing came back under control.

All you'd done in response was tell him he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to, climbing back into the couch and wrapping your arms around his midsection, resting your head against him. You stayed like that—silent. The only question you dared to ask was if he'd want that again and his response was a kiss.

He realized after that, how truly deeply he loved you.

A feeling he was so unused to, he couldn't pinpoint it for the longest time. You felt safe. Maybe that's what made him want to finally seal the deal with you. Or maybe it was the way his body physically ached in a way that no amount of help from his own hand or your mouth could fix.

Something about it was missing.

He wanted the lights off. You had accepted that, but told him you'd really rather see him. He caved almost instantly, because as afraid he was of you seeing him, he wanted to see you too bad to care enough. You were undressed first, naturally. He'd seen that before, in bed while touching you, or just as you changed it got in the shower. He wasn't any less smitten, still obsessed with every inch of exposed skin. It took a few deep breaths and reassuring words before he was willing to unbutton his shirt.

In fact, he couldn't. He'd asked you to do it.

That felt oddly more intimate to him. Your fingers moved slowly, undoing them one by one, a bit more of his chest exposed with each button undone. You had seen a lot of his scars, after he got more comfortable wearing shorts or shirts that showed his arms. He still never revealed his chest and when you did, he looked away, his teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek to keep from tears brimming in his eyes as he heard the small gasp leave your lips.

He almost jumped when you touched one, your fingertips feeling light as a feather. Tears kept pricking but he refused to let them fall. He was being vulnerable but he couldn't allow himself to be that weak. Your other hand found his cheek, pulling his face to look at your face, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip as you pursed your own, tightly to keep from any strangled sounds escaping.

Your voice was equally as emotional when you eventually spoke, telling him in a shaky voice that he was still pretty. Those words or perhaps how your voice cracked when you said them, broke him. A tear slipped down his cheek and you were quick to brush it away with your thumb and kissed his cheek softly, confessing that you loved him.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your neck letting himself breathe for what felt like the first time all over again. A real breath. One without any heaviness attached to it because you'd stolen all the stones from his walls one by one. You repeated it, so he knew it wasn't a mistake or accident and he started peppering short kisses to your neck, all the way to your lips, which he kissed deeply, his bare chest pressed entirely around your own.

Your arms were around his neck, in his hair, pulling him closer and his hands started to wander, desperately craving to have you without any barriers anymore. He stared at you, or at least tried to, when he felt your velvety walls surround him, clenching tightly when his hips were finally flushed with yours. His jaw was locked tightly until you started running your hand up and down his spine, telling him he could take a moment, if he needed it.

He did.

Not because he was nervous, since for once, he wasn't, but because he wanted to stare at you in this state and revel in your feeling for a moment more. He did, until it became painful for both of you and every thrust he made was slow and deep, staring into each other's eyes, taking full breaths in at the same time for several moments until his pace was quick, along with your breathing.

Your praise never stopped, even when it wasn't fully coherent and ended in a moan or whine. His own praise for you wasn't lacking either, telling you how perfect you felt, how badly he wanted you, how much he appreciated you waiting on him because he really was enjoying it, probably more than he'd enjoyed anything in his entire life.

When you're both a mess, panting and quiet from the feelings that washed over you both, his body goes limp, laying on top of you. Your hands rub his shoulders reassuringly, although slowly and his hands hold either side of your head, fingers threaded into your hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your breath on him. It was silent, until he eventually lifted his head to admire you, your stray hairs sticking to your face, your puffy lips, your blown pupils.

He said it back, at that moment.

He loved you too and couldn't stand letting you think anything else for a single moment more.

You didn't respond, but your lips curled into a grin and a heavy sigh left your chest, your hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face and lean up to kiss him.

He rolled you over, causing a slight squeal from you, letting you lay on him so he wasn't crushing you any longer. You rested your head against his chest, silently tracing his scars as he messed with your hair, the moonlight streaming in through the window.

His voice eventually broke the comfortable silence when he whispered to you, asking you to "Say it again."

You didn't hesitate to tell him you'd "Say it as many times as he wanted to hear it."

With his lips twitching, the slight wit he always possessed came back, questioning what you'd do if he "Wanted to hear it forever."

Like before, your response was immediate when you replied, telling him you'd "Say it forever, then."

[poisonf0rest]

First ask, kinda nervous - but let's go (I found your blog yesterday, and I already became a fan✨️)

I saw you like love and deepspace, do you have a headcanon about one of the characters?

I swear, before the new update (that they put a period calendar), one of my biggest headcanons was that Zayne has a period app in his cellphone because of the MC. So he knows when she is moody because of the period, then he gives her a lot of sweets and hugs and cuddles ❤️

rafayel headcanons

♱⋅── Don't be nervous, love~ That's such a sweet headcanon for Zayne, I definitely can see it happening as well! If you've been following my blog then you already know I'm obsessed with a certain fishie, so here are some (a lot) of headcanons I have for him~

general headcanons:

If this were a normal!AU I definitely headcanon Rafayel being younger than the MC (she'd be 27, a full-time bodyguard and he'd be 24 but a famous art protegee since 15), but Rafayel insists he's the older one to everyone you meet. It drives you insane.

He canonically has a Mercedes Benz AMG Gran Turismo and Ferrari 250GT, but I think he has at least three sports cars.

It's not a symbol of wealth to him because, honestly, Rafayel simply doesn't check the price tags on anything-- if it's a beautifully designed car, suit, jewelry, or painting, he buys it without another thought.

And vice versa. If an expensive label offers to sponsor him but he hates the designer he'll refuse no matter what the pay is.

Also suuuch a niche thought but I can so see normal!AU Raf and you first hooking up in a club or bar. You disappear the morning after mind-blowing sex, and Rafayel can't get you out of his head-- but he doesn't even know your name.

He makes paintings of hidden freckles on your body, of your blurry figure dancing in the dress you wore that night, of colors and swirls that remind him of your touch. The media goes crazy over this mystery woman who's taken over the famous artist's heart.

He has no reservations about calling you his muse and within hours the press is abuzz with speculation on this mystery person who has captured the artist's heart.

"Love? Yes, I'm in love with her."

You, on the other hand, are mortified. You try to forget about him and move on but cue a series of further coincidences and shenanigans that tie you and Rafayel closer and closer together.

Also, he would fuck you in the passenger seat of his sportscar while the paparazzi are swarming outside.

And since it's a cold January, of course Rafayel would use any excuse to whisk you away somewhere warmer:

Rafayel would love taking you on vacation to different islands.

Beautiful secluded villas on the ocean with no one around to disturb the two of you as you spend your days lounging around the open-air rooms, Rafayel’s paintings strewn about the entire villa, splashing it with more color anytime you're not walking along the beach, cooking something together, swimming in the ocean at sunset, or fucking on every possible surface.

On days the two of you would want to go into civilization, he'd take you to lively local bars and restaurants, and as soon as reggae music starts playing you best believe he's tugging you up to dance. Especially if he has a drink or three in his system.

Laughing, one arm laces around your waist as the other spins you around. Rafayel chases away any sort of anxiety or awkwardness you might initially feel just by how happy and natural this seems for him. You're the only person he cares about, so what does it matter if no one else is dancing? Or if a dozen other couples are doing the same? As long as you're in his arms, happy, Rafayel couldn't care less.

He's a damn fine dancer too. Being a swimmer and all he has to have good control of his body, and we all saw him be a natural center during that lnds dance show lmao.

You best believe you're also fucking nasty in the sand.

Disguised as a cute dinner date, he blindfolds you and leads you to a hidden cover decorated with string lights, a candle-lit dinner on a picnic blanket waiting for you, which he spent all day preparing while feigning fighting art block.

It’s romantic and sweet, the way Rafayel expects praise for all his hard work and the way you’re more than happy to shower him with it. You feed each other as the sun sets behind the ocean’s horizon, yet you can’t even get to dessert before kissing him senseless.

"Wow, someone's excited."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Rafayel's smug grin is swallowed up by your lips, and he barely has the sense to shove aside plates of food before pulling you down atop him on the blanket.

You're grinding on each other like lovesick teens, moaning and giggling between yourselves before you pepper kisses down Rafayel's neck as you thank him for everything— for planning this wonderful vacation, for setting up this romantic diner, for being yours.

And being called yours? Being lovingly, irreversibly claimed?

That does things to Rafayel.

"Ya, I'm all yours cutie, my muse, my sweet darling." Rafayel smiles up at you, covered in the deep red of your lipstick from his cheeks to the jut of his collarbone peaking out under his ruffled shirt. "Yours."

He flips the both of you around, swallowing your yelp with a kiss and cushioning your head with his hand as it hits the sand. Hooking your leg onto his shoulder, Rafayel kisses your ankle, calf, up to your knee, watching your expression twist with desire as his other hand teases your inner thigh.

I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours. It's a promise, a prayer whispered into your skin between love bites, between suckles on your skin that taste like seasalt and desire.

When Rafayel does finally kiss your cunt, it's light, teasing, and he admires the pretty lace, bunching up your dress just enough to still hold eye contact over the folds as he sucks your swollen clit through the fabric.

One of your hands tugs against his hair, Rafayel moaning at the sudden pressure as you bring the other up to stifle your cries.

"No, no, please don't do that," he whines, nuzzling into your thigh, looking up at you with puppy eyes before roughly fucking two fingers into your weeping cunt. "Wanna hear you, my little siren. My heart."

Greedy. Rafayel is greedy for everything you give him, taking your hand from your mouth and gently kissing your knuckles as every precise curl and thrust of his hand makes you moan and writhe against the sand. Each sound you make a melody, each cry of his name intoxicating.

It's not long before Rafayel goes back to eating you out, unable to keep his mouth off you for long. He forces you to hold eye contact as he makes out with your cunt, eyes rolling back at the wet, sloppy sounds in between his pussydrunk moans and the distant roar of the ocean.

Only when you cum for the third time, desperately tugging his hair between pleas for mercy, does Rafayel relent with a whine.

Placing one last kiss on your swollen clit, his dazed smile meets yours, the dark pink blush covering his face matching the hearts in his eyes. Your lipstick stains are still visible, branding your kisses into his high cheekbones, neck, and sweat-slick chest. Shit, even his undoubtedly expensive shirt is stained around the collar.

But the marks around his lips and down his jaw are all smudged by your release, marring Rafayel's pale skin with a dark red, dripping down his throat as he swallows the taste of you once more. And when you meet his eyes again, you realize he's far from done.

"Say I'm yours. Say I'm yours again."

[rennerator]

LOVE LOVE LOVE Father and Daughter!!!!! S2 AWWWWWWWWWW I LOVE THEM SO SOOOOO MUCH!!!!!!! We should have gotten WAAAAAAY MORE Dadstiel moments involving these two!!!! Like, they could have gone on cases or just spend some time having fun and enjoying each other and knowing each other!!!! So sad that the show had SOOOO MANY good characters and interactions but they almost NEVER explored these moments!!! T.T Also, SUCH A CRIME that we DIDN'T HAVE ANY MOMENT with Cas and his TWO CHILDREN!!!! Like, COME ON!!!! Not even a SINGLE EPISODE with the three of them together doing something????? T.T DADSTIEL FEELINGS ALL THE WAY!!!!! I LOVE THEM!!!!! Thank YOU SO SOO MUCH for this!!!! You are AMAZING!!!! :) <3

[0xstarzx0]

NDA: Sleeping with Rafe was easy until you caught feelings. Unfortunately, you were married with kids, but let’s be honest, that was never going to stop the great Rafe Cameron.

+18

People would never understand.

William was a good man—wealthy, kind, affectionate. He had given you beautiful children, cherished you, loved you in every way a husband was supposed to.

So why did you cheat on him?

William was gentle, patient, and attentive, but you weren’t in love with him. The only reason you stayed was for your children, to give them the stability of a present, devoted father.

The first time you and Rafe slept together, it was a mistake. A drunken night that spiraled into something reckless, something forbidden.

It just happened.

You weren’t happy—not romantically, not sexually, not truly—and Rafe was the only man who made you feel like more than just a wife, more than just a mother. With him, you felt alive.

Yet, you had sworn to yourself that it wouldn’t happen again.

And now, here you were, standing in his dimly lit living room at 9 PM. Just the two of you.

“Rafe, I don’t want this anymore.”

He turned to face you, eyebrows knitting together as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“Did I miss something?” he asked, his voice calm, indifferent, like this conversation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

You stepped in front of him, refusing to be intimidated by his height, by his presence.

“I love my husband. I love my kids. I have everything I could ever want,” you argued, trying to convince him—trying to convince yourself.

Rafe took a slow sip of his drink, eyes locked on you, unreadable. Then, he simply nodded.

“Alright.”

That was it. No fight, no plea. Just alright.

Your heart skipped a beat. That wasn’t what you expected. You had prepared for an argument, for persuasion, for the inevitable temptation. But not this.

“Okay,” you whispered, grabbing your things.

And then, just as you turned, he caught your wrist. Before you could react, his lips brushed against yours—just for a second. A mere ghost of a kiss.

You froze.

He pulled away, waiting. Watching.

And then, before you could think, before you could stop yourself—you crashed into him.

Rafe manages to stabilize you in a few seconds, his lips moving desperately against yours, damn it, is this what they call "love"?

He buries his head in your neck and you moan, his hands gripping your ass tightly, his breathing heavy against your neck.

"You're going to leave your husband and come spend the rest of your days with me." He carries you to his sofa and pushes you against it, you pull him in by tugging on the collar of his shirt.

"And you know why you'll do it?" He tears your tights, eliciting a loud moan from you. "Because you're completely crazy about me."

"Go to hell Rafe!" You moan, he laughs and pulls your panties to the side without warning, he thrusts deep inside you. You feel your body shake with pleasure. He curses under his breath as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, deepening the angle. "Say it," he growls, his hands digging into your thighs. "Say you'll leave him." You whimper, your nails clawing at his back. "N-no,"

He pushes harder, your pussy feeling so good around him—it's better than it was with William. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. You gasp, your head tossing side to side on the sofa.

He leans down, his teeth grazing your neck. "You're so fuck up f’me, whether you admit it or not," he hisses. "Your body knows it, even if your heart doesn't." His fingers find your clit, circling it firmly. "Come on, baby. Give in."

Tears stream down your face from overwhelming pleasure as Rafe chuckles. He laughs because he knows that William has never had you like this—completely at his mercy, your body surrendering utterly. 

"That's it, sweetheart," Rafe purrs, feeling your pussy clench tightly around him.

"God!.." he groans, his pace quickening. "You make me lose control." He swallows hard, then asks darkly, "Are you on the pill?" You freeze beneath him. " Answer me," he growls, "Before I put a baby in you."

you bite your lip hard and scratch his back.

"Say it," he demands, his hands gripping your hips possessively. "Say you don't care if I knock you up right now." He pulls out slightly, teasing his tip at your entrance. "Say it, and I'll do it."

"I don't care if you put a baby in me Rafe Cameron. I just want you to do it." You look Rafe straight in the eyes, there's no ounce of doubt or hesitation, only love, love that has been repressed for far too long.

His eyes darken dangerously at your words, raw emotion flashing across his face. "Fuck," he mutters, then drives into you hard and deep, each thrust deliberate. "You realize what you're saying? That you want..." He breaks off, his voice becoming thick. "My baby."

"Say it again," he demands roughly, his body shaking above you. "That you'll carry my baby, that you'll be the mother of my children." He pants, his face contorted with emotion.

You remove your legs from his shoulders and cradle his face in your soft hands. "I'll be the mother of your children." You smile, your eyes starting to fill with tears. "I'll be the mother of your children." Rafe laughs, a hint of sincerity, and kisses you deeply.

For the first time in his life, Rafe felt like he had found the right one—and he had no intention of ruining it.

[filthygalli]

When I Met You: Chapter 4 "Iced Americano" pt.2

Fem!Reader x Neighbor!Hwang In-Ho

Main Master list

Squid Game Master list

Genre/Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, Light smut, Fluff, Angst, Slow burn, Age gap (Reader is in her early 30’s, While In-Ho is in his late 40’s.) Rude In-Ho (but will eventually be soft with the reader Soon!) Literature Professor! In-Ho (Not specified what kind of literature) More Tags to come soon!

Warnings: MDNI!Masturbation, Jealous In-Ho, Light Cursing, Down bad In-Ho for the reader—he's also getting a little needy, Not Proofread—you might see some mistakes here, let me know if there's something that I missed!

Word Count: 5127 (Damn...)

Author's Note: Omg y'all, this took so long, I was so busy at school because I'm a student leader at my uni so I've been busy as hell because of events and Seminars I needed to attend, I'm so sorry for the delays :((

© Pictures that are used are from Pinterest

 In-Ho changed his cum-stained pants with a beige-colored one; he put on his white button-up shirt before putting on a navy blue sweater. He fixed his hair in front of the mirror, deciding what hairstyle he would put on for today. He started experimenting on his hair—putting his bangs down, brushing it up, ruffling his hair to make it look fluffy. He groaned as he couldn't decide what hairstyle would suit him better. He scoffed as he put his hair down, which is his usual hairstyle. He put on his Ralph Lauren glasses as he went out of his room, holding his black leather briefcase.

While going down the stairs he hears you laughing as Yu-Jin plays with her, he smiles at the sight In Front of him, he wishes to wake up every morning with the sound of your laugh while taking care of Yu-Jin.

At this point, you and In-Ho are Yu-Jin's parents who don't live together or even together. You liked the idea of In-Ho letting you take care of his cat while he's away. Do you like it because you get to spend time with In-Ho's cat, or is it because you get to see In-Ho? 

“Y/n.” You heard a familiar voice as you looked up the stairs, and you saw In-Ho, who looked handsome as always. “Hmm?” “Are you ready to go?” He asked as he walked down the stairs, meeting you in the living room, “Yes, what took you so long anyways? ” You asked him as you slightly tilt your head with curiosity. In-Ho's breath hitched at your question. How long was he gone anyway? Is it that obvious? Were you paying attention to how long he was gone? God, did you hear him jerking himself while he moans your name like a prayer? “In-Ho?” The sound of your soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “I- I was trying to find my uhm–my glasses,” he said as he points at his glasses, “Oh, alright, By the way–” you stand up and walk towards him, you slightly reach to his hair to fix it, “You look more better like this–” you said going on tippy toes while you fix a strand of his hair, you actions made his heart beats faster, he looks down on you, how close you are with him, he leaned in a little so you wouldn't be tipping your toes to reach his hair, you looked at each other for a while, those brown eyes, you can see the whole universe in them, you licked your lips a little, In-Ho noticed it–he looks at your lips that’s now damp with your saliva, he slowly looked on your eyes as he blinked leaning back up, “Let’s go-” He said as he turned around grabbing his keys and things, You nodded and picked up Yu-Jin and on your way out you also hurriedly grab Yu-Jin's leash, In-Ho waited for you before he opens the door, “After you,” he said stepping a side as you gave him a shy smile before walking out of his house, he quickly followwed after you, locking his house as the two of you went to his car, before you could even open the door he reached the door handle and opens the door for you, making you blush by his action, he noticed it, the way you hurriedly went inside as you lowered your head—hiding your flustered face, he smirked, he went around to go inside the car, he looked at you then Yu-Jin—who’s sitting comfortably on your lap, ‘What a lucky cat.” He thought, you slowly looked at him, “What is it?” In-Ho's gaze softened. “Nothing. Make yourself comfortable, Y/n,” he said as he started his car. The engine of his car roared, which made you quite shocked; cars don't really amaze you that much. Besides, this is your first time riding in an expensive car like this. “Do you want to play some music? ” He said before looking at you, “What?” You asked, slightly taken aback by his question, “You can play something; I know the silence bothers you.” He breathed out as he stopped his car because of the stoplight. ‘Oh…so he noticed,’ you thought. “Oh, alright.” You said as you connected your phone to his car speakers, and you played Angel Eyes by ABBA. The song hummed through the silence of the car as you quietly sang from it. You started to bob your head to the song as you looked down and smiled at Yu-Jin, who was looking up at you, admiring your features. In-Ho couldn't help but steal glances from time to time; he liked how your voice sounded from singing the song, how your nose would slightly scrunch cutely when playing with Yu-Jin. He smiled at the sight of you; he was slowly falling in love with you—and he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from falling in love further. He quietly hummed the song as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, matching the beat from the song. “In-Ho? ” “Hmm?” He hummed as he slowly looked at you, “What time will you go home later? ”You said with a slight hint of nervousness, “Before dinner, why? ” He said as he turned back his focus on the road, “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner…at my house,” a long pause cuts through the air, “You don’t have to go—” “I’ll go.” He cuts you off mid-sentence before you could even finish your sentence, “Are you sure? ” you said with a hint of excitement in your voice, “Yes.” You smiled brightly. He noticed your excitement as he looked at you for a second, then looked away to smile to himself.

“We’re here,” he said as he went out to open your door for you. “Thank you.You smiled up at him as you put down Yu-Jin so he could walk—in-ho nodded at your words and closed the door of his car as the two of you went inside the coffee shop. The smells of burnt coffee filled the air—the smell reminds you of your second encounter with In-Ho, where he leaned down to grab Yu-Jin in his arms and how his skin brushed against yours—how he smells like your favorite coffee. You felt a large hand placed on your back. It’s In-Ho’s. Your eyes widened as he leaned in against your ear,’Be a good girl for me and find us a table. Think you could do that? ’’ Your face heated up, and In-Ho smirked behind you. Noticing how his words and actions affected you deeply, you looked up at him as you quickly nodded, walking away to find a table to sit—eventually you found one, not far from the window of the coffee shop. In-ho glanced at you, giving you a slight nod, “Good morning, sir! What can I get you?” the barista said as In-Ho gave his order to the barista, “Alright, 2 medium iced Americanos. That’ll be (whatever your desired amount).” The barista said as In-Ho grabbed his wallet inside his pocket to pay for his order, “Oh, and your name, Mr…? ” The barista asked, making In-Ho pause for a moment before saying his name, ‘’In-ho.” The barista nodded as He wait on the side, quickly giving you a glance, he smiled at the sight of you as you played with Yu-Jin, he couldn't help but be jealous of his cat, Yu-Jin. How you give Yu-Jin affection and light feather touches, how gentle you are with Yu-Jin, giving Yu-Jin tons of kisses on its face, God, is he really getting jealous with his cat? He just wishes that you could do that to him too, Not now, But maybe soon. 

He sighed as he looked at the time, ‘Fuck,’ he muttered as he was going to be late again. It didn’t matter though; he was with you. He wished that he could stop the time for a moment to admire you from afar, to look into your angel eyes. He took a glance at you again, and it seems like you’re talking to…a man. The said man hugged you tightly as you chuckled and hugged him back. Yu-Jin blankly looked up at the two, confused on what’s happening. Like father, like son indeed.

“Y/n! It's been so long; I've missed you! ”Your childhood best friend, Marc, said while hugging you. You pull away from his embrace as you smile up at him, “I know! I haven’t seen you since college!” You both chuckled as you two exchanged conversation, “Oh—you have a cat?! ” Marc exclaimed, pointing at Yu-Jin, who didn’t pay attention to Marc. You chuckled, “That’s Yu-Jin—and

No, he’s not my cat; it's my neighbor’s.” You sigh as the two of you sit down beside each other. “Oh—You're a cat sitter now? ” He teased, and you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Yes, and I do it for free—because this little one here is too adorable, and I love looking after him! ” You chuckled as you looked at Yu-Jin, who just blankly stared at you.Odd,’ you thought. 

“2 medium iced Americanos for In-Ho? ” The barista called as In-Ho snapped himself from staring at you and the man who’s now sitting beside you, He quickly thanked the barista as he took your drinks, Glaring at the man beside you, who seems close to you, is he your boyfriend, Fuck are you married? There’s no ring, though…He’ll put one on soon.

“Y/n.” You heard a familiar husky voice as you looked behind you to see In-Ho standing there with 2 coffees in hand. “In-Ho,” you smiled as you stood up. “This is Marc,” you said as you pointed at your friend. “Marc, this is Hwang In-Ho. He’s Yu-Jin’s owner and also my neighbor.” In-Ho looked at Marc with a blank expression as Marc stood up and extended his hand to shake In-Ho’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hwang,” he said as In-Ho stared at Marc’s hand. He gave you your coffee before shaking Marc’s hand, not bothering to say anything. He sat down on the opposite side of the table as he looked at you, then Marc. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin sat on In-Ho’s lap. ‘I know, Buddy.’ He thought, “Oh—how did you know that I like Americano coffee? ” You said, eyeing In-Ho. He glanced at you; his gaze turned soft at your words, “I just know.” Of course he knows; it's what your house smelled like one morning when he went there. “So,” he sighed, “how did you two know each other? ” He said, looking coldly at your friend, Marc. “We've been friends since middle school. My mom and Y/n’s mom are also friends, and we basically grew up together and went to school together too,” Marc says while looking at you. In-Ho can’t help but be jealous. Do you like Marc? How about him? Don’t you like him? In-Ho thought of countless things in his mind. He just nodded and pressed his lips together in a thin line. “I’ll invite him to dinner later; I hope that’s ok…” you said as you looked down, ‘No, it's not ok, Y/N.’ In-ho thought; he paused for a moment, “Yeah,” he said before taking a sip of his coffee. The taste of black coffee made him feel alive; he sat up straight, slightly annoyed how your ‘friend’ Marc kept touching your hand, “So, Mr. Hwang… What do you do for a living? ” Marc said as he eyed In-Ho, “I teach,” He breathed out, Not interested in the conversation, “Teach, what?” Marc added, In-Ho tried his best not to sigh in annoyance, “I’m a professor at (your preferred university); I teach literature,” he said as he took a glance at you. In-Ho’s eyes softened when he saw you smiling at him, at him, not your stupid friend Marc. He took a sip of his coffee to hide his smile. “That’s interesting,” Marc said as he nodded. “And you? ” “Oh, I'm a mechanical engineer,” Marc said, giving In-Ho a smile. There’s a long pause of silence between the three of them. 

In-Ho looked down on his lap to see Yu-Jin peacefully resting. He smiled. He wished that someday it’d be you who’s resting your head on his lap as he moves a strand of your hair that’s been covering your beautiful face. He would give you kisses on top of your forehead. In-Ho would tell you how beautiful and good you are to him. He would praise you as if you’re a goddess. Fuck, he’d do it either way. He looked at his watch, and he was an hour late. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbled under his breath. ‘Y/n,” In-Ho called you. ‘Hmm? ” You hummed, “I should go; I’m late; I’ll see you later.” He said, placing Yu-Jin beside the empty seat as he stood up and grabbed his things, “Thank you for the coffee, In-Ho.” You smiled up at him, your hands brushed against, his heart skipped a beat, “It’s nothing,” Y/n.” Take care. He gave you a shy smile and patted Yu-Jin,"Be good to Y/n.” He chuckled as Yu-Jin purred. He took a quick look at you before nodding and left.

He opened his car door, settling his things in the back as he sat down, turning the engine on. The engine roared as he stepped on the gas and drove to the university. He can’t help but look at the empty passenger seat beside him. He misses you. He misses your smile and your soft voice humming on the song coming through his radio. In-Ho can’t help but imagine you sucking him while he drives, pressing your head deeper down his shaft, as you swallow thick stripes of his cum down your throat. He snapped himself out of his thoughts as he arrived at the parking lot of the university. 

You said your goodbyes to Marc as he left you and Yu-Jin at the coffee shop. Sighing you sat beside Yu-Jin petting him, you took a walk down the park, the sun is shining and so is you. The sun perfectly illuminates your soft skin. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin also enjoyed the weather; you found a bench to sit on and poured water on Yu-Jin’s food bowl. He drank it, and you also took a sip of water. The cold water made you shiver. You grabbed your phone to update In-Ho about you and Yu-Jin. You grabbed Yu-Jin and placed him down on your lap as you quickly snapped a picture of the two of you, sending it to In-Ho after.

After a long walk, you and Yu-Jin decided to go home to rest. It's been a long morning for the two of you, but as always, you had a lot of fun. A few minutes later you and Yu-Jin arrived at your house, you feed Yu-Jin before going up in your bedroom to take a shower, Your skin felt sticky because of the sweat, The cold water from the shower made you relaxed–Suddenly you thought of In-Ho, How would it feel like taking a shower with a man like him, How his warm and delicate touch would feel against your skin under the cold shower, you imagined him trailing down kisses on your shoulder blades and on your bare chest, he would suck your skin till it leaves reddish marks as he trace them using him tongue, Licking it all the way down on your nipples, You slowly pull your hand down on your bare cunt, Circling your clit as you quietly moan his name, ‘’In-Ho…’’ As you imagine him inserting his thick index finger inside your walls, you felt yourself stretch against his fingers, ‘’You’re so wet for me, Sweetheart,’’ In-Ho said as he leaned in on your shoulder to leave marks there, “In-Ho...please–” You moaned as you pumped your fingers inside, Imagining its In-Ho’s fingers, he groans as he inserts his middle finger, Making you feel full, “Shit, Sweetheart–so tight for me, Think you could take another one? Hmm?” He mumbled as you quickened your pace, as you felt a familiar sensation on your stomach—”Answer me, Y/n, I asked you a question, haven’t I? ”He said, cupping your chin roughly.

You imagined In-Ho who’s a man who can be rough and soft at the same time, He’ll make you beg until you cry, and he would only smirk and tilt his head slightly as you beg for his touch, He would make you a crying mess underneath him, He would fuck you till he had enough, you kept on thinking about him as you gently rub your clit, thinking its In-Ho’s fingers against it, He pulled out his fingers as he looked at you, The same look that he would always give you when silence filled the room, ‘’In-Ho..Please i’m close–” You cried out, ‘’Please what, Sweetheart?” He waited for your response, "Make me cum—Please, God, In-Ho—” At this point, you’re a mess, face flustered, eyes filled with tears. Your skin felt vulnerable as In-Ho traced his fingers against the marks that he made, "Look at you, so beautiful like this…’’ he said, inserting his index, middle, and ring fingers inside your aching pussy. You wince at the pain, “Cum for me. Now,” he demanded as you continued to pump yourself as you thought of In-Ho doing it for you, “That’s it, Sweetheart, fuck—” He groans as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, “In-Ho, I’m going to cum—! ” You moaned loudly as you pleased yourself at your own imagination, “That’s it, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me and cum all over my fingers like the whore you are—! ” He said as he roughly played with your sensitive clit, your eyes hit the back of your head as you squirted in the shower while moaning In-Ho’s name. You slowly pull your fingers out as you groan—you scoff to yourself, feeling embarrassed after what you just did—moaning your neighbor's name while you fuck yourself, thinking, What would In-Ho think if he finds out that you’re moaning his name while you touch yourself? Does he do the same to you? Clearly not, right? He’s not that kind of man—he’s just quiet, observant, and sometimes he can be a little teasing—when he’s in the mood, of course. You sigh as you continue to shower, properly this time.

In-Ho sat down on his chair inside the cubicle and saw your text message; he smiled upon seeing it. You looked beautiful as always—a hand brushed against his shoulder, “Mr. Hwang, are you free tonight? ” A woman wearing a gray skirt and white button-up shirt called In-Ho’s name. In-Ho looked back, eyeing the woman’s hand on his shoulder before looking at her. “Ms. Gomez,” he said as he straightened his posture. The woman leaned down to In-Ho’s eye level. “Busy? ” The woman said as she tilted her head a little, “Yes.” In-Ho coldly said, giving her a blank facial expression, “So, are you free tonight for—” “No,” In-Ho said before the woman could even finish her sentence, “Oh—” She lightly scoffed, must’ve been taken aback by In-Ho’s response, “Some other time, maybe? ” She said as he seductively caressed In-Ho’s shoulder, In-Ho sighed in annoyance, "’Look," he said as he grabbed Ms. Gomez’s hand, “I’m a busy man, and I certainly won’t go out with a woman like you. Find someone else you could bother,” he said as he stood up, grabbing his things and leaving without saying anything, “Typical.” Ms. Gomez said as she scoffed and eyed In-Ho’s back, looking at him from top to bottom.

In-Ho sighed as he went out of the campus, nodding and greeting some of the students and his colleagues. He hates it, though. He doesn’t like social interactions that much; it bores him. He doesn’t even care if he has no friends at the campus; he has his cat, Yu-Jin, anyways. Oh, and well, there’s you. His ray of sunshine amidst his dark and quiet demeanor, always there to brighten up his day even with just shy glances from you, a smile creeps upon his lips by just the thought of you. Your effect on him is impeccable—you drive Thee Hwang In-Ho crazy! And he couldn’t believe that a person like you would make him feel like a teenager again.

He arrived at the parking lot. He opened the door of his black Mercedes. He set his things on the passenger side where you once sat. He recalled the moment where you were humming and smiling. He smiled too, "Fuck, she’s making me feel so desperate.” He sighed. He went around and opened the door of the driver's side as he sat down, turning the engine on. The engine roared as he stepped on the gas pedal. 

While driving, In-Ho can’t help but think of the things he needs to buy from the store. He needs food at home. He’s been lazy for the past few days about it. Going shopping from the grocery store feels lonely. He doesn’t like it. He just wishes that someday you’ll do it with him—walking on every aisle of the store as he holds your hand. Fuck, he would buy anything you want, even if you just thought of getting it or you just touched it. He’ll buy it. He will spoil you with his money and probably everything that he has. He parked his car in the parking lot as he went out and closed the door behind him.

He grabbed a couple of foods that he may need during the week; he also grabbed a bottle of expensive whiskey—he likes drinking whiskey, unlike beer or any other alcohol. After grabbing everything he needed, he went straight to the cashier, paying for his items. He went straight home; he can’t wait to see you. He stepped on the gas pedal as his car roared. He’s never been like this, getting so excited when going home, usually only seeing Yu-Jin at home makes him get excited, relaxing and watching movies while Yu-Jin sat beside him or on his lap. But now, when he met you…he’s always looking forward to going home and seeing you, even though you live just beside his house.

You laid down on your soft sofa while reading a book. Meanwhile, Yu-Jin laid down on the stairs, watching you carefully. You heard a soft knock coming from your front door. You huffed and sat up from your couch. Yu-Jin meowed at you, “You miss him, huh? ” you asked as Yu-Jin lay on his back—you chuckled, you walked towards Yu-Jin, and gave him belly rubs as you quickly walked towards the door. A soft knock came again, “Just a sec—” you said as you grabbed the door handle; you twisted it, and the door swung open, seeing your friend Marc holding a bouquet of flowers, “Hi.” You smiled, “Marc—you didn’t have to! ”You grabbed the bouquet of flowers in his hand as you smelled it. “It smells so nice—it’s so beautiful too! ” he chuckled, “It's not as beautiful as you, Y/n.” He said smiling at you, “Geez, when did you learn to be like that?” You chuckled, “I’m always like this.” He teased as you sighed, “Come in.” You opened the door just enough to let him in, “Your house looks wonderful,” he said as he looked around your home, “Oh—That old man’s cat is still here.” He crouched down as he called Yu-Jin, “Come here, buddy—” he said as Yu-Jin didn’t pay attention and just ignored him, “Is he always like that? ” Marc asked, “Oh, no…he’s usually sweet and clingy when I call him…” you said as Yu-Jin sat down on the chair cushion in the corner of the room, “Odd…” You mumbled, “Well, he must’ve loved you a lot then? ”Your friend Marc said as he stood up, looking at you, “What are you doing in here anyways? It's early, dinner’s at 6,” you said as you walked in the living room. “I just wanted to see you. It's quite lonely,” he said as he sat down on the couch. He looked beside him and saw the book that you were reading. “I didn’t know you liked to read. ” he asked as he brought up the book, holding it up to his face, “Inferno…Scary.” He chuckled, “I’ve been reading books since forever, you dummy—” You teased as you rolled your eyes playfully, “Hmm,” he grumbled, “What’s the cat’s name again? ” Marc asked, pointing at Yu-Jin, who’s glaring at him, the same glare that In-Ho has when he first met you, the looks that could literally kill. Yu-Jin really looks like In-Ho, no DNA test needed. You chuckled at the thought, “His name is Yu-Jin; he’s a sweet and calm cat, but he can be stubborn sometimes…which reminds me of someone.” You smiled a little as your friend looked at you. “Me? ” he said, “What? No—” You chuckled, “Someone I know…” You smiled a little, “Whatever.” You two chuckled.

In-Ho arrived at his home, parking his car as he went out, eyeing your house. The lights are on. You’re home already. A slight smile creeps on the corner of his lips as he goes inside his house. Setting his things down, he quickly puts the food he bought inside the fridge and some inside the food pantry. He sighs as he leans back on the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone—checking if you sent him a message. He frowns, only one text message from you, which is odd. He’s used to seeing lots of your messages pop up on the screen of his phone; it’s either a picture of Yu-Jin alone or with you. He always saves them; there’s actually one folder on his gallery dedicated to you. He puts a password on it, making sure only he can access it. He quickly typed a message and sent it to you. He finds himself staring at his phone, waiting for you to reply. He started to tap his fingers on the kitchen counter, sighing and huffing. He looked at himself in the reflection of the window. Is he falling in love with you? Is he jealous, Needy? He ran his hand through his hair as he groaned and stood up, walking upstairs as he twisted the knob of his room.

You laughed as Marc cracked a joke, “I’m just saying—” He chuckled, “That’s funny, but never say that to me ever again! ” You slapped his shoulder as you laughed, “You still do that, huh? ” He winced in pain. “The what? ” You frowned, “The things that you do when you laugh, slapping my shoulder, it hurts—” He pouted as he teased you, “Oh—stop it.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

The warm water splashed through In-Ho’s skin as he relaxed under the shower, breathing heavily as he thought of you. Ever since he jerks himself at the thought of you, he couldn’t stop doing it. He groans at himself for doing such a thing like that.

In-Ho is a man who barely touches himself unless he needs release; whenever he’s stressed from work, he’ll stroke his cock with his left hand, and after he cums, he’ll act like nothing happened and will go straight back to work. And now here he is—in the shower moaning your name breathlessly as he came—shooting his cum on the ceramic walls of his bathroom, he rested his head on the wall, his chest rising up and down, “Fuck…” he muttered.

He went out of the shower as he wrapped a towel on his waist, he opened his closet trying to find comfortable clothes to put on for your dinner with him tonight. Should he wear something casual? Something that he’ll get to tease you with, to linger your eyes on? He grabbed a pair of black pants and a charcoal gray button-up shirt. He put them on as he looked at himself in the mirror. He chuckled as he rolled his sleeves through his elbow—exposing his veins that go all the way up to his biceps. He also left his collar unbuttoned, getting a tiny glimpse of his skin. He sprayed some of his expensive perfume on his neck. After putting on his glasses, he went downstairs and grabbed an expensive bottle of wine that he bought from Italy a year ago. He wished that you liked wine; he forgot to ask you that—he just knows that you like black coffee.

He stood outside your door, remembering the first time he went here. He was rude to you. He softly chuckled through the memory. Your soft and innocent expression always caught him off guard. He always thought, how could such a grumpy old man like him meet a bright person like you? He could only sigh at the question in his mind. He brought his knuckles on your door and remembered to knock softly, not wanting to startle you like he did before.

“Oh—I’ll get it,” Marc said as he stood up from his seat as you and Yu-Jin cuddled on the floor. You nodded. In-Ho knocked again. “Just a sec—” He heard a different voice coming from the inside of the house. Shit, were you with someone else? Are you having dinner with someone else and not him? The door swung open as In-Ho frowned, “Who is it?” You asked as you walked slowly towards the front door, “It’s the old man from the coffee shop earlier,” Marc said eyeing In-Ho from up to down, ‘I’m gonna kill him,’ In-Ho thought as he scoffed at marc’s words, “Oh, he’s here for the dinner–” You said as you looked at In-Ho ‘Fuck, he’s hot.’ You thought as you gave him a smile, In-Ho’s gaze softened when he saw you, “Y/n.” In-Ho said giving you a slight smile, Fuck he looks breath taking, His dark brown disheveled hair, His style of clothing–Honestly you love how In-Ho dressed himself unlike guys your age who dressed like everyone else you see on the street, But In-Ho, he dress himself perfectly, His taste in Clothes are elegant, Always give him that aura and intimidation, His looks matches the way he dress–And fuck, you could smell that strong scent of if perfume, It smell like burnt amber and leather, It smells so manly. 

In-Ho noticed the way you looked at him. He knows that his plan worked. You look like you could do anything to him right now. The way your eyes traveled up and down through his figure, your eyes full of lust as you look at him, he doesn’t give a fuck about your friend. He’ll take you away from him. You’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll make you his no matter what. 

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Author's Note: Aaaaa part 4 finally, I've had so many sleepless nights thinking how will i end it, Another cliffhanger ending for the next chapter though, I'm so grateful that you guys loved this series, I'll make sure to continue writing this series for y'all!

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[imsofreakingtired]

sevika soft hours (domestic au)

"sleep well, don't wake up, please i'll keep watch by your side for bad dreams i'll stay by your side until the dawn so don't feel alone, i'll be your night light"

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

sevika whose favorite time of day is coming home to you, when she can let her tough exterior fall away like a shell and melt into your waiting arms. she lets you pull off her coat and lead her by the hand into the kitchen where there is soft music playing and a hot meal and you tell her funny things that happened throughout the day

sevika who holds you close to her as you sleep, who has trouble falling asleep herself but takes comfort in watching your sleeping face, stroking your hair, overwhelmed by all that she feels for you and the ever present terror that something might happen to you 

sevika who still can’t quite believe you chose her to spend your life with, whose favorite sound in the world is your voice, who sometimes just watches you doing the most mundane things—cleaning, reading, eating a snack, whatever—with the softest look in her eyes 

and you running hot baths for her on days when she looks especially tired, sometimes you get in with her, sometimes you just sit by her and wash her hair while she rants to you about the incompetent idiots at work 

she reads you passages aloud from history books on the most obscure topics that only she could find interesting, and you lie with your head in her lap looking up at her trying to pretend like you heard what she just said and you weren’t just admiring her beautiful face 

cuddled up on the couch to watch a movie and she always falls asleep before the middle and you turn down the volume because you like listening to her snoring more than watching the movie 

she does not have a left hand but the two of you wear matching rings on the ring finger of your right hands, like the promise rings of lgbt couples in the 80s 

slow mornings where you just lie in each others arms, only half awake, mumbling about nothing, idly kissing, while the sun shifts on the walls and the curtains stir with a sweet mild breeze. when sevika tries to get up you cling to her tighter. just five more minutes.

when she's had enough wine and you insist with that irresistible smile of yours she'll slow dance with you in the kitchen to soft songs on the vinyl player. it's barely dancing though. you're both a little sleepy and helplessly happy just swaying together, your head resting on her chest, her hand holding your waist

kissing on the floor of your living room until your lips go numb, she is tender and hungry in the way she touches you, and as her mouth brushes your ear you could have sworn you heard a whispered "i love you."

you always keep fresh flowers on the tables to brighten the room because you know sevika likes seeing them, even though she'd never admit it

holding her hand and tracing your finger over every callus and scar until you know it as well as your own. bringing her hand to your cheek and kissing it to make her smile involuntarily.

her throwing her jacket over you when it starts raining, encircling you with her arm, and leading you quickly down the street into the nearest coffee shop to wait out the rainstorm. (she gets offended at the way they make chai lattes).

on your hard days when you go nonverbal and feel like breaking down she asks you gently if you want space or if you want to be held. the answer is always being held. she holds you tight without a word, and lets you cry.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

taglist-

@notlores @demothers-empty-blog @theyluvbix @archangeldyke-all @prettyinpink69 @beatdariceee @sevikaaaalover @intrnetrbl @00valentina-writes00 @zelluna

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Didn't know what to post so here are some random headcanons about the brothers. Enjoy <3

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

---

Brothers hcs

Lucifer

• When he gets too tired, he starts slipping into a more casual and affectionate tone without realizing it. The brothers have a bet going on how long it takes before he notices and corrects himself.

• He keeps little trinkets or objects that remind him of MC in his office—nothing big, just subtle things like a pen they lent him once or a mug they used.

Mammon

• He absolutely hates sad movies but refuses to admit it. If he starts getting teary-eyed, he’ll pretend he has dust in his eye or suddenly find an excuse to leave.

• When MC gives him attention in public, he pretends to be embarrassed, but internally, he’s absolutely thriving.

Leviathan

• He subconsciously matches MC’s online gaming schedule. If they usually log in at 8 PM, guess who’s conveniently also online at 8 PM?

• Sometimes, he starts talking to Henry 2.0 as if he’s talking to MC when he’s flustered—like asking, “What do I do now, Henry?!”

Satan

• He picks up on people’s speech habits and accidentally mimics them. Spend enough time with him, and you’ll hear him say a phrase exactly like MC does.

• He enjoys narrating stories to cats. He even changes his voice slightly for different characters, though he swears he doesn’t.

Asmodeus

• He leaves little beauty tips for MC in random places, like “Try a honey face mask today! Your skin will thank you!”

• If MC ever compliments him on something specific (like their favorite perfume on him), he will wear it more often.

Beelzebub

• If MC dozes off near him, he instinctively adjusts their position so they don’t wake up sore. He probably doesn’t even notice he does it.

• Sometimes, he stops eating mid-bite because he just had a random, fond thought about MC, and his heart got too full.

Belphegor

• He doesn’t like the cold, but he’ll tolerate it if MC seems comfortable. However, if MC also complains about being cold, he’s suddenly the first one to suggest bundling up together.

• He occasionally wakes up in weird spots because he sleepwalks. Once, MC found him curled up in the laundry basket.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Ain't That a Kick in the Head

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nudity but in a totally non-sexual way (you share a bath)

Summary: You watch Clayton take a puck to the face, suffice to say you are very much worried for your boyfriend at the end of the game.

Notes: Y'know someone needs to psychoanalyse why I thought it was so hot that he took a puck to the face, got 12 stitches, came out, played and still scored? Someone want to explain that one to me?

I've not written Clayton before but @wannabehockeygf has me hooked so...I hope this is okay?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"...that one up high caught Keller, let's hope Clayton is okay...he took that one right up in the face and he's headed to the room for some stitches I would imagine..."

"Keller's girlfriend has stood straight up from her seat, clearly not happy with what she's seen."

"Can you blame her? Keller's just taken a puck straight to the face and I imagine he's going to have more than a couple of stitches to fix that..."

It's an instinctive reaction really, to jump out of your seat at the way the puck soars into Clayton's face, the way he spins and falls to the ice. The blood that you can see pooling underneath his hand as he holds it tight to his eye and brow.

You've seen him get hurt before, seen him take hits to the boards, hits from other players, pucks to the ribs, sticks to the legs, but this...fuck, this was dangerous, this was scary. You're thankful for your seat overlooking the tunnel, thankful that you can reach a hand down as he makes his way off the ice, that even as he clutches a towel to his face to mop up the blood and try to stem the bleeding, he sees you, and reaches out briefly to touch your fingers, an attempt to reassure you that he's okay. That he'll be fine because fuck he knows you're probably freaking out about it.

Then all you can do is sit back down in your seat and wait. Waiting for him to come back out made you feel sick, stomach tied in knots, leg bouncing up and down in anxious impatience. Was he concussed? Was he in need of hospital? Or would it just be a few stitches to stop the bleeding? Had it done any serious damage to his skull? Was he actually okay? Was it just a flesh wound or something deeper?

It was taking too long, far too long, your eyes not even on the game, but on the tunnel waiting for him to reappear, watching people come and go back and forth each one not Clayton. Still you waited for that reappearance.

And reappear he did. Brow coated in blood, 12 stitches holding his face together, swollen, bruising planning it's spots as he stops at your section, looking up at you from the tunnel as you look down.

Your hand reaches out again and this time he holds it properly, fingers intertwining with yours to give your palm a tight squeeze, his ring digging into your skin slightly from how firmly he grips you. Like he needs to reassure you he's still strong, still good even as a blood drip starts to slide from the fresh stitches towards his eye.

"I'm okay, sweet girl," His voice is rough from overuse on the ice and he doesn't linger long, but it's enough to reassure you that he's at least fine, even if his face looks like he's been through the wars.

It's enough for you in that moment, enough for you to let his hand go, to watch him make his way to the bench even as that sick feeling still permeates your gut.

You spend the entirety of the second period watching him like a hawk, assessing to see if he should actually be out on the ice or not, relieved to see him skating well, stable, sturdy. Despite the physical wound he doesn't seem unwell and that is enough to settle you down a little, enough for you to start to enjoy the third period.

An enjoyment that is made 10 times better by Clay's empty net goal firmly confirming Utah's victory over the Winnipeg Jets. The moment the period is over and the players have left the ice you don't waste much time before making your way down to the locker rooms, leaning against the wall and waiting for Clayton to clean up and change.

He's out last, Kess stops to tell you he's just getting some of his stitches redone, and while you appreciate the heads up from the taller man it actually only serves to make you more anxious to see your boyfriend.

When he walks out he looks like he's been through the wars or been mugged badly or had a bad boxing match. New stitches means no quick shower, no water on them for at least a day and he still looks bloody, sweaty and definitely not okay. You can't imagine how uncomfortable he was putting his suit back on when he couldn't even have a proper wash, sweat causing his clothes to stick to his skin. Clayton's always been a stickler for cleanliness and you know he probably feels disgusting, probably hates it almost as much as the injury itself.

"Shit, Clay..." You gasp at seeing his face up close, his eye is bruising into a proper shiner, closing a little from all the swelling that's happening. The skin around starting to go a deep purple. There's an array of angry stitches holding his skin together, 12 to be exact, lined up neatly but clearly the only thing stopping more blood from falling down his face. They've clearly tried to clean as much of the old blood up as possible, but there's still enough left over that he looks rough around the edges.

"Right in the money maker, huh? It's okay if you think I'm ugly now, baby.." He's joking around as he steps into your space, trying to take that god awful look off your face. You look like you've seen a ghost, like you might be sick.

"Clay..." You reach for him as he leans over you, one arm leaning against the wall by your head, while your own hands cup his cheeks tilting his head so you can get a better look at his stitches.

"Sorry, sorry, just tryin' to get my girl to smile s'all..."

"I know..." He lets you get your fill, moving his head in whatever direction you tilt it while his free hand grips your hip. He wants you to believe he's fine but he knows you won't believe him, and in truth it fucking hurts taking a puck to the face. He's surprised he doesn't have a concussion. He feels a little sick, very gross and his face aches like nothing else.

"Clay...What do you need?" You, he thinks, just this. Just the soft way your thumbs brush his cheeks and tenderness with which you cradle his face, like he's not 170lbs of hockey player. He's not delicate and he knows that, you know that, but sometimes you treat him that way and it's nice sometimes. Nice to feel cared for.

He doesn't say any of that though, instead lets out a big sigh, "I need to go home, wash at least my body because I actually feel fucking gross..." He's still sweaty and he knows he needs help washing his hair without getting water on his stitches.

"Okay, I'm driving." You're reaching for his keys in pocket as quick as a whip, but he's quicker. Clayton's hand wrapping entirely around your wrist and stopping it from delving further into his pocket.

"You're not driving my car, baby. No." There's no amount of injury that could bring him to let you drive when that's his job and the grin he gives you is the sort you give a child who thinks they know better. It makes your eyes narrow.

"Clay, you took a puck going like 80 miles per hour to the face..."

"And I can still drive, and you are still and forever my passenger princess." It's not that he doesn't trust you to drive. You're a pretty decent driver, but that's not the dynamic you have. He drives you around. Always. If he can't then you drive yourself, but if both of you are in a car together? He's driving and you get to sit, relax and look pretty.

"You're impossible." You roll your eyes but concede defeat, pulling your hand from his pocket even as he continues to grip your wrist like now that he's got it the thought of letting go is preposterous.

"Impossibly handsome." Clay's hand moves from your wrist to slip into your own, fingers twisting together as he pulls away from the wall with you. His other hand tossing his car keys about with a jingling sound.

"Impossible hard headed."

"Ouch, that hurts, sweet girl." He finally gets a smile from you at that and that's all he wants as the two of you walk hand in hand to his car. If he's got to deal with stitches, bruising, swelling, then at least he gets to see you smile.

"Did it hurt more than the puck you took to the face tonight?"

"You're determined to not let me forget this aren't you?" He asks as he opens the passenger side door, watching you slip into the pristine seats because he'd be damned if he ever let his car fall into disarray.

You're quiet for a few moments as he leans over you to pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it into place. It's the proximity of him to you that's probably the only reason he actually hears your next whispered words as you look at your hands in your lap.

"...I was really worried, Clay..."

Clayton sighs heavily, large hand cupping your cheek until you look at him. You grip his wrist, fingers playing with the array of bracelets he always has there.

"I know, baby, but I'm okay. I promise. Got some stitches, no concussion, I'll be a little ugly for a bit but..." All Clay ever wants is for you to be happy, the worst part about getting hurt is that he knows you're stressing about. He's fine, but he knows he looks like he's gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and he'll probably look like that for awhile. He also knows you worry, and you'll worry over him until he looks completely back to normal.

"You could never be ugly," He smiles at the way you frown at him, like it's the worst thing he could do right now to insult himself, "You're just fishing for compliments." Your eyes soften under his smile and the frown loses some of its bite.

"You're the one biting, sweet girl."

"Shut up and drive us home."

"As you wish." Clayton presses a quick kiss to your lips, pulling out of the passenger side and closing the door on you. He's quick to make his way round to the driver's side and even quicker to get the car started so he can start driving back to the house.

You watch him the whole time, eyes fliting from the stitches in his eyebrow to the way his left eye is swelling to the point you don't know if he'll be able to see out of it in a minute if you don't get ice on it. Clayton chooses to ignore the staring, hand reaching out to rest on your thigh, rubbing warm strokes across it as he drives, like always.

When you pull up you wait, like always, in your seat because Clay complains if he can't open the door for you and unbuckle your seatbelt. So you wait and let him do it, just as you let him wrap an arm around your shoulders and led you inside as if you're the one that needs the TLC and not him.

You only briefly watch him struggle out of the suit he'd worn to the game before stepping in to help. The medical team not letting him wash had meant his shirt and trousers stuck to him from all the sweat left on his skin, and the extra pair of hands was helpful as he shrugged off the button up he'd been wearing.

He lets you lead him into the bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet seat and watching as you fuss around the bath tub. You're running him a bath even though you know he prefers showers because there's no way those stitches are staying dry in the shower, not with his ridiculous need for the most intense waterfall shower on earth.

Still, Clayton watches as you try to make the bath more enticing. Copious amounts of bubble bath, the sort that's designed for sore muscles, being thrown in, water running warm, but not too hot because he doesn't like his bath water to be as hot as the fires of hell. Unlike you. But, he draws the line at you helping him into water, it's his face that hurts not his legs, shrugging your hands away with an eyeroll when you go to reach to help him.

"I can get in on my own, baby."

He doesn't let the fussing annoying him because he knows you fuss out of concern and that any amount of fussing is still your attention on him. Fussing means you love him and if you took a puck to the face he knows he'd be fussing over you too.

You watch as Clayton eases himself into the water, a sigh rippling out from him as he slides into the warmth. His chains hitting the water because he'd never wear anything that wasn't solid enough not to tarnish over time, expensive taste as always. You watch the way he closes his eyes and just relaxes for a minute, skin turning slightly flush under the warmth of the water, neck pulled taut as his head tips back.

"You want me to help wash your hair?"

"Please, baby." It's sighed out, eyes still closed and you kneel next to the tub without a second thought, urging him to move forward and lean back until his hair touches the water.

You're careful about it, slowly wetting his hair, trying to avoid getting water on his stitches and while he might not want to be fussed over, this though? This Clayton can't help but love. The way your fingers thread through his brunet strands, how you stop occasionally to scratch at his scalp, the feeling of sweat and grime falling away? This is pretty much heaven.

You huff a laugh when Clayton groans a little while you massage shampoo into his roots. The pressure you apply making him sigh and groan like you're relieving knots in his back and it's sweet, how he can relax into this, into you, when he's normally the one giving and doesn't necessarily prefer to receive the care.

"You good, Clay?"

"Mmmm...." He hums and you smile down at him, the way he leans back into your hands, how his eyes remain closed, the content little smile on his face that just slightly shows his teeth.

You take extra care as you rinse the shampoo from his hair thoroughly, avoiding his stitches and his eyes as you do so, before getting him to sit up a little so you can place some conditioner on the ends.

"Get in with me..." His eyes are heavy lidded, like he doesn't quite have the energy to open them the entire way, a wet hand reaching out to grip your fingers, tugging lightly.

"Clay, there's barely any room left." His legs take up half the tub, you're a little concerned that you plus water displacement will result in water all over the floor of the bathroom. Another injury waiting to happen when one of you inevitably slips on wet tile.

"Please, just want to hold you for a bit, no funny business, sweet girl, promise." His cheeky little smirk that shows the dimples on one side of his mouth doesn't exactly fill you with confidence in his words, but the water is still warm and there's something always enticing about Clay, he has a way of convincing you to do something even if you shouldn't.

"Mmm, sounds likely..."

"Seriously, just want to hold you...I'm an injured man..." He pulls the guilt trip card, biting on his bottom lip. Something which would have looked sexier if half his face wasn't swollen up like a balloon. Still, you've never been good at saying no to Clayton even if you probably should from time to time.

"Fine..." You sigh, pretending to be reluctant even as you strip your clothes off, ignoring the way his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store, and step into the bath water with him.

It's a little tight, the water rising to levels that are mildly concerning before the overflow drain does the job of removing the excess water. Your legs twine with Clayton's and his arms slide around your waist until he can pull you comfortably back to lay against him, your back to his chest. It's funny, how you can be completely naked and feel completely comfortable like this with someone, every little touch is comforting rather than sexual, every kiss to your shoulder an attempt to be connect to you rather than start something intimate.

"Clay?" You wince out, the sensation of metal digging into your back causing you to squirm slightly in his lap, water sloshing nearer to the sides of the tub.

"Mmm...?"

"Can...can you move your chains? They're digging into my shoulder."

"Shit, sorry, baby." He's quick to do so, the chains being thrown over his shoulder and out of the way until settling against him is more comfortable, the rise and fall of his chest meeting your back in a rhythm that helps any residual anxiety from the events of the day melt away.

"You comfy, sweet girl?" He presses a kiss to your temple and you smile into it, humming as you lean as much of your weight back into him as you can.

"Yeah, you?"

"Mmm, might have to stay here..." He's tracing circles on you tummy, a series of circles that meet in a variety of patterns that remind you of crop circles from all those conspiracy theory and unsolved mystery shows Clay likes to watch when he can't sleep. Every few seconds a kiss lands somewhere else, whether your temple, your cheek, your neck or your shoulder. Each is quick and soft, but no less delightful. It's all so soft, the world feels like its humming a little.

"The water'll get cold."

"Good thing I run warm..." He tries to argue with you, like always, a sassy little remark to entice you to stay in the moment even if neither of you can.

"Clay, we're not staying in here all night, we'll die of pneumonia or something."

"Would be worth it." He grins into your shoulder, eyes relaxing when you reach a hand back to scratch his scalp and play with his hair. He's tired, so fucking tired and his face still aches like a bitch but this is nice, this so nice.

"We should really get some ice on your face, try and take some of the swelling down."

"Do we have to?" The idea of putting ice on his face right now is anything but appealing, but he knows you're right. His face is already pretty swollen and bruised and it's only going to get worse if he doesn't look after it.

"Do you want to be able to see from your left eye in the morning?"

"Good point, just...5 more minutes, baby?"

"5 more minutes." You let him have his 5 more minutes and then some, using the time to get clean yourself and rinse conditioner from his hair before the two of you stand from the bath after the water has cooled significantly.

He's sat crossed legged on the bed in a cosy hoodie and boxers by the time you've put together a makeshift icepack, ice piled up into a ratty old tea towel you got when you first moved out.

The look he gives the icepack is nothing short of disdainful, a glare that's combined with a pout of his top lip like the icepack has personally offended him already when it hasn't even touched him. If anyone should glare it's you because your hands are getting cold.

"The only way that is touching my face is if you're sat in my lap, sweet girl." He pats his thighs like its a given, like you'll just go over and plonk yourself down without question.

"You already agreed to ice your face, Clayton John Keller." Your hands find your hips, a stance Clayton calls your mom stance and it's extra apt when you're using his full name like that. Not that that deters him from his goal of having you wrapped up on his lap because that's the only thing that might make ice to the face semi-bearable.

"Only if you sit in my lap."

"That is not the original agreement."

"Yeah, well, trade talks, deals get renegotiated all the time." He shrugs with a smirk, pulling out the dimples because he knows you struggle to be stubborn when he does that and as much as you hate it...he's fucking charming and it works. You're sighing and stomping over like you're not totally endeared by him, letting him pull you up and onto his lap without any real protest until your legs are wrapped around his waist, your butt sat perfectly in the hollow created by him sitting crisscrossed.

"You are incredibly difficult to care for, Mr Keller." You grumble as you cup his face with one hand and raise the makeshift icepack to his eye with the other.

"Can you really deny an injured man small comforts like his girlfriend in his lap?" His smirk only widens until it doesn't, a hiss leaving his lips at the way it pulls on his stitches as his eyebrow moves.

"Mmm, you're ridiculous." You're smiling when you say it and that alone lets Clayton know that you're enjoying this as much as him.

He hisses again when the cold finally touches his skin, almost jerking back but your hand on his cheek stops him from going very far. The icepack is cold, so fucking cold, and he knows you're going to force it to stay there until you're satisfied that some of the swelling has gone down. You're cruel like that.

Clayton's hands fall to your hips, fingers clenching and gripping onto you, not painfully, but firmly enough that you know he hates this, hates the sensation of ice on his skin even if there's a tea towel in between.

You try to make it as bearable as possible, pressing kisses to the right side of his face even as the left faces the terrible ordeal of icing. The kisses have Clayton humming, hands stroking from your hips to your waist and back down again in a rhythmic motion that brings back memories of every make out session you've ever had with the man, and that you wouldn't be having until you were certain his face wasn't swollen and bruised.

When you finally pull the icepack away his face is less swollen, eye still partially closed, but no less bruised, you know the purple is going to eventually fade to a horrible yellow. You throw the damp tea towel into the laundry basket from where you're sat, excellent aim that has you letting out a little cheer that gets Clayton smiling up at you.

"Thank you, sweet girl, always taking care of me..." He presses a kiss to your lips, short and sweet, only because you refuse to let him stay there too long, determined to let the man rest.

"Yeah, well, you're always taking care of me too."