#move aside distortion

[lambinarmor]

ftp bby

[l1tw1ck]

Simeon's Devotion

Sub!Bottom!FTM!Priest Simeon x Dom!Top!AMAB!Holy Knight Reader

Word Count: 2,410

Reverend Simeon, plagued by sinful thoughts of a certain holy knight, is suddenly struck with a high fever and abandons his God

AFAB Language Used | 2K Anniversary Request: For a Simeon Fic | [Breaking the Thermostat]

CW: Non-Con, Heavy Religious Themes, Dom/Sub, Virginity Loss, Bleeding, Size Difference, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Belly Bulge, Womb Fucking, Squirting, Creampie, Kidnapping

You knock loudly against Simeon’s doors, heavily injured. You hear the sound of shuffling and see the lights turn on inside. Moments later, he opens the door for you.

Simeon calls out your name in shock. “What happened to you?!” He helps you inside.

“Ran into some demons..” You murmur, sitting down on his couch. “Can you heal me?”

“Of course!” Simeon hastily removes your clothes, leaving you in just an undershirt and boxers. You're both already used to this. “How many this time?”

“I wanna say…30?” You watch him kneel down and use his divine powers on your wounds.

“30?! Did something attract them?”

“I’m not sure. I was on patrol and everything seemed normal. The monsters looked strange too. They all looked like distorted versions of God and they were muttering things like ‘sinner’ and ‘dirty’.” 

“That's strange..”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You reach to rub your temple but Simeon quickly heals your headache. “Could I have something to eat? I know you're probably tired so something like crackers would be fine.”

“You need to eat a real meal. I don't mind cooking for you. You can sleep over too, all your clothes are washed.” Simeon finishes your last wound and stands up. It's very common for you to sleep over at Simeon’s due to exhaustion since demons usually show up on the outskirts of town and you live a bit further away. “Think you can take a shower?”

You stand up and groan, the sound making Simeon twitch. “I think so. Thanks, Simeon.”

“God must be disappointed in you. So much for being a priest.” You say, staring at Simeon. He’s wearing sexy see through lingerie and an extravagant matching sheer silk robe. His legs are spread and he’s leaning against his bed frame. His tears are glistening against his cheeks, they’re shining like glitter. “You're nothing but a dirty sinner.” You move his panties aside.

Simeon looks at you, batting his eyelashes. Another tear falls down his cheek. “You’re my god now.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re mine.” You slowly begin to ease your cock inside him. “And I’m yours.” You press your hand against his pelvis, a pretty marking appearing on it.

Simeon suddenly wakes up moaning your name with his hand stuffed in his underwear. He gasps and yanks it out. He quickly wipes his hand on his clothes and begins to pray. “Please deliver me from temptation.” He repeats the same phrase over and over but as his body begins to grow hot, his prayer becomes strange.

“Please give me [Name]’s cock–” Simeon gasps and covers his mouth. “No…Forgive me— I need his co—” He covers his mouth again. He can't talk. He attempts to pray silently but that doesn't work either. It just makes him feel even more horny.

He begins to absentmindedly remove all of his clothes, his hands moving on their own to touch his wet pussy. He leans back, eyes out of focus, and begins to touch himself but he doesn't really know how. He just rubs his folds, which feel extremely sensitive. “I’m…I’m a sinner..” He mumbles, still out of it. “And a slut.”

“Only [Name] will accept me now.” Simeon brings his hand up to his tattoo and presses on it, a wave of pleasure flowing through him. 

He stumbles out of the bed and drunkenly walks to his guest room, where you’re sleeping. Knocking didn't cross his mind as he opened the door. 

“Si- Simeon?” You ask sleepily, sitting up. “Is something wrong?” You can't tell that he's naked. You move to sit on the side of the bed and squint at him.

“Yes..” He says quietly, stepping towards you. He kneels in between your legs. “I need you.”

“What?!” You recoil. “Are you okay? Are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk.” Simeon presses kisses along your legs down to your feet. “I’ll do anything you want, [Name]. Anything.”

“I think you need to drink some water…you're not thinking straight.” You get off of the bed. As you try to head towards the door, Simeon stops you.

“I don’t need water, I need you.” He pulls you closer, he’s somehow stronger than before, and forces you into a kiss. It doesn't take long for him to pass on his ‘fever’ to you. Heat rushes through your body as your rational thoughts dispel like bubbles. He pulls away and looks at you lovingly. 

“Simeon...” You hold his chin, speaking with a loving tone. “How beautiful.” You mumble. He moans your name breathily.

“Kneel for me.” You order. Simeon kneels once again. You pull down your shorts and boxers at the same time. His eyes widen, hearts forming in them, when he sees your thick length. The process of becoming a Holy Knight can alter someone's body in major ways but he never knew it could change by this much. “Open your mouth.” You run your fingers through his hair.

Simeon opens his mouth and lets you slide your cock inside it. His mouth is unbelievably hot. He can feel the corners of his lips stretching to fit you. The thought of you stretching his pussy open next makes him moan. He stares into your eyes as you begin to thrust. You're sure they're glowing. 

“Your mouth feels amazing.” You moan. Simeon moans as well. “‘S perfect for me..” You speed up your thrusts. He happily allows you to fuck his mouth. He closes his eyes and focuses on your voice. He’s so aroused it's becoming painful.

You tighten your grip on his hair as your thrusts become unruly and desperate. He looks at you again, this time with tears in his eyes. But the tears aren't because he’s upset. “You look so pretty when you cry.” You groan as you come inside his mouth. You slowly pull away as Simeon swallows your seed without hesitation. You're still hard and you both want more. You pick him up and slam him onto the bed. Somehow, the both of you are able to see perfectly in the dark. Maybe it has something to do with the glow in your eyes.

You spread his legs and smile at how wet he is. The marking on his lower stomach glows faintly as you physically observe his pussy with your fingers. He squirms around cutely. You kneel in between his legs, mirroring what he did earlier, and bury your face into his pussy. Simeon moans. “Yes– oh- yes~!” He sucks in a breath. “[Name]~!” It's like he's ascended to heaven. 

You drag your tongue up to his clit and gently suck on it. It quickly and unnaturally swells in your mouth. It feels like he’s stuck on the edge of an orgasm, although it feels good nonetheless. You slip a finger into his hole and then another when you realize how easily it entered him, despite his tightness. “Ooh- oh, [Name]~” Simeon squeezes your fingers tightly as you attempt to finger him. The constant flexing of his walls make it difficult to move them but you don't mind. You’re more interested in how that’ll feel when you fuck him.

He can tell he's not going to come from this. He's not sure why, it feels like there's something blocking him from doing so. “Put…put your cock inside me, please~”

You smile and move away, standing back up. “Of course, my love.” You lick your lips and line up your cock with his pussy, slowly coating your tip with his slick. He bites down on his lip and uncontrollably twitches as you begin to sink into his sopping warmth. He throws his head back and grips the bed sheets while moaning shamelessly. You're barely inside him. His entire pussy is throbbing so heavily, it's almost like a second heartbeat. Blood soon spills from your penetration. 

The true representation of his sin.

He moans your name with his enchanting voice. Your cock ‘knocks’ on his cervix and strangely enough, it seems to be allowing your entrance. Like it wants you to enter his womb. You don't think about how that should be impossible and slide further inside him. “It feels– feels so—” He gasps, squirting. His eyelashes are fluttering rapidly.

“There you go, baby. Come for me.” You rub his clit with your thumb. He writhes around, no longer squirting but his cunt’s still squeezing you like crazy. He isn't able to think about anything at all, his brain is overloaded. The outline of his tattoo is becoming a bright blue. “Good boy…keep going.” You praise him.

Simeon wants to say your name again but he is completely unable to speak.

“Let’s make up for all your years of abstaining.” You start to thrust. He slowly comes back down to earth with each thrust you make. 

“Ah–” His eyes are sparkling with tears. “You’re so big…stretching me out~” 

“That’s right, I’m making your pussy fit the shape of my cock.” You slowly rub the bulge on his stomach, fucking him at a slow pace. “Your body’s gonna remember me and only me.”

“That's– that’s all I want~” Simeon moans. “Only you~”

“So pretty…” You brush his hair out of his face. He looks like a painting. You bring your hands to his waist and slowly build up to a faster pace. He reaches for you so you lean in. He wraps his arms around you.

“I love you.” He says in a shaky tone.

“I love you too.” You look into his eyes. For a brief moment, he realizes this isn't the real you, then he brushes it off. He feels strange. “My sweet Simeon.” You kiss him. The bed starts rocking due to your quickened thrusts. You separate from the kiss, some saliva dripping down his lip.

He looks down and notices the marking on his womb is glowing and the same color as his eyes. His desire has been satisfied. It’s all over. He looks up at you, suddenly shaking like a scared rabbit. The artificial light flickers out like a used lightbulb. He can't see you clearly anymore. The only lights are the glow in your eyes and the faint moonlight. “[Name]?” He asks.

“Hm?”

You're still…you’re not aware like he is. He suddenly feels disgusting. He forced you into this. Even if he wasn't completely conscious. He should tell you to stop, but he doesn't want to. Is it so wrong to want a little more? “I…I-” He stutters. “Come- come inside~” If he can't have you, maybe he can have a part of you.

You kiss his cheek. “Of course.” You come inside of him only moments later. It feels like he forced it out of you. You look at him with an exhausted but happy expression before passing out on top of him. He doesn't try to move you.

You slowly wake up. You look around the room and notice a stain on the floor that you didn't notice before. And your bedsheets seem to be different too. You also feel a little strange. Refreshed, but strange. You get up and leave the guest room. You can smell coffee so you go down to the kitchen. “You're up pretty early. Don't you usually sleep in on Tuesdays?”

Simeon shrugs, not looking at you. “I felt like getting up early today.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything today. Maybe I’ll make breakfast this time?”

“It's okay. I’ll make it.”

“If you insist.” You know you can't convince him otherwise. “I wanna do something for you though. You deserve a gift.”

“Protecting my town is more than enough.”

“You’ll never change, huh?” You chuckle. “You know, the bed sheets look different from last night. Am I crazy?”

Simeon breaks the mug in his hand. You shoot up from your chair and rush over to him.

“I- I’m okay.” Simeon heals himself. “There wasn't anything in it yet.” 

“Good. You…seem weird today.” You notice he's not making eye contact with you.

“I..” He presses his forehead onto your chest and frowns, tears forming in his eyes. “I did something horrible last night.”

“What do you mean?” You bring him into a hug and gently rub his back to comfort him.

“Please…please don't hate me.”

“How could I hate you?”

“Last night…something strange came over me. I wasn't fully in control of myself and I forced you to…to..” He begins to sob.

“Simeon?” You ask, concerned.

“I forced you to have intercourse with me!” He blurts out, pulling away from you. He turns around and doesn't look at you.

You pause. “It must’ve been the work of a demon. It's okay, it's not your fault. It wasn't my ‘first time’ but…was it yours?”

Simeon’s eyes widen. “That wasn't your first?”

“No.”

He bites down on his nail. “When?”

“Um…maybe a decade ago?”

“Before you became a knight? And you haven't since then?”

“...Yes.” You assume he's uncomfortable due to his beliefs.

Simeon sighs. You were ‘reborn’ during your ceremony so you’re technically a virgin but you still have the experience. “Are you going to remain celibate?”

“I…well, I hope to find someone in the future. To marry, of course.”

“Oh.” He clenches his fist. “Do you have anyone you’re interested in?”

“I suppose I’ve caught a liking to Solomon, he—”

Simeon whips his head around. The look in his eyes is scary. “No.” He grabs your shirt. “No. You can't. You can't leave me.”

“Simeon?” You look at him in disbelief.

“I…I’m not letting you leave.”

Simeon looks at you sleeping peacefully on his bed. He isn't sure how, but he caused you to pass out and he was able to carry you here. He didn't even break a sweat. Due to a holy knight’s ability to neutralize certain forms of demon magic, Simeon is sure he isn't using that as you would've been fine if he was. But that leaves more questions to be answered.

He slides his hand down to his lower stomach and touches the glowing blue mark on his womb. It hasn't gone away. What is it? If it's not demonic then is it holy? How could this be holy?

He gently caresses your face. “I’m sorry, but I can't allow you to leave.”

You’ll be missed in the order of the holy knights but no one will worry when Simeon tells everyone he has bigger plans for you.

[borathae]

Man of the Hour

“You love your best friends, which means that Jungkook will do anything in his powers to make sure that they are safe.”

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Comfort

Warnings: protective!Jungkook, one of OC's friends needs help and he is there for her, sexual harassment, he's the best hubby ever, mentions of sexwork, tears, he's quite frankly The Man

Wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: the header fucking ruins me. he is so handsome ngngn. also, i saw a tiktok about a woman's husband helping her bestie move out of her abusive ex's place and went "you know what? aaol!Kook would always be there for OC's besties" so i wanted to write something about it 🤍

Six fourty two. Jungkook has a little over an hour left until he can finally go home. He doesn’t know that yet because he is currently lost in his work. He has concepts to write and contracts to go through. Jungkook has a very thorough and good team of lawyers which go through anything law related, but Jungkook still likes to check for himself. In his field of work, it is best to trust himself and only himself.

You are already at home, promising him dinner. His favourite. He can’t wait to get home to you. He will give you the tightest hug imaginable and then follow it up with a smooch to your face and lots of promises of his eternal love.

His phone rings. 

Jungkook looks at his smart watch, furrowing his brows in confusion. This is a caller he hadn’t expected to call. He picks up with a funny feeling in his stomach.

“Noona?”

“Jungkook, thank fuck you picked up. I didn’t know who else to call, I need your help.”

At that his ears perk up. The distress is obvious in her voice.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Loud club music plays in the background. Distorted voices are filling the chaos as well.

“No. I’m at Saturn and there are men who want to hurt me. T-they keep talking about taking turns on, on me.”

Jungkook straightens up in his chair.

“Are you safe right now?”

“I locked myself in the bathroom.” Loud banging. “Jungkook, can you please come and get me? They’re banging on the door. I’m scared.”

“I’m coming. Don’t go anywhere. I promise, I’m coming.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

The phone call ends.

“Noona? Wheein noona?” Jungkook tries, ‘goddamn it, I’m coming.”

He leaves his office quickly, typing in your number to let you know what was happening.

“Bunny, hey there”, you sound happy about his call. “Are you coming home earlier?”

“Wheein noona is in danger.”

“What!?”

“She just called me that she is at Saturn and some assholes are trying to hurt her. She’s in the bathroom, safe for now, but I’m gonna get her.”

“Holy fuck, Kook. Please get her, please. I’m gonna call her right away.”

“Do that. See you later, love.”

“See you.”

The phone call ends. Jungkook gets into his car moments later, driving off as quickly as the law allows. He won’t let Wheein wait. He won’t let any of your friends wait. 

They lovingly call him their adoptive man of the hour sometimes because he will always be there for them if one of them needs male support. Be it something as innocent as moving furniture too heavy or hanging up curtains on a window too high, Jungkook will be there to help as best as possible. The same counts for the heavy stuff. Like rescuing Wheein from a dangerous situation because some men see a sex worker and think they have free range to do anything to her. Or stuff like letting Byulyi crash in his guest bedroom for a few weeks because her ex boyfriend turned out to be a piece of shit abuser and she needed to escape the situation. He even helped her move all her stuff, taking his biggest car so she wouldn’t have to go back to the place more than once. 

Jungkook cares and he cares honestly. Which is why he is officially the adoptive man of the hour for your girls. 

Tonight is no different. Jungkook hurries to the club bathroom as quickly as possible, pushing strangers aside with little care about how rude he might seem. Manners don’t count when one of his friends is in danger. 

The men aren’t in front of the bathroom anymore, but that doesn’t calm Jungkook down. They could still be hiding somewhere, waiting for a moment to jump Wheein if she ever comes out. 

He knocks on the door, calling out Wheein’s name.

“It’s me. Jungkook. The air’s clear, I promise.” 

Seconds later the door unlocks. Her face is messy because she cried off her makeup.

“Noona, hey there.” Jungkook steps closer, resting his hands on the doorframe so she was shielded from prying eyes and therefore safe. “I came as quickly as I could. How are you?”

“I’m sorry for calling. I didn’t know who else to call. You’re the only man I can trust.”

“Don’t apologise, noona. I’m just glad that you’re okay. Should we go home?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Our place or yours?”

“Can I s-stay at your place for a while?” she stutters, looking smaller than normally. Anxiety is definitely shrinking her.

“Of course, you can.” Jungkook assures her and looks over his shoulder. A few men are looking at him. Is that them? He sends them a deathly glare, then looks back at Wheein with soft eyes. “Is it okay for me to put my arm around you? So I can keep you safe?”

“Yeah, please. I’m sorry, I know that’s a lot to ask.”

“Don’t worry. It’s to keep you safe. You can hide away in my side if you need to. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

“Thank you so much”, she barely gets out and seeks safety in his arms, knowing that she won’t be hurt anymore. And Jungkook takes pride in knowing that he can help her leave this shady place unharmed. He won’t ever let any of your friends get hurt. He will protect them just as much as he will protect you. They are his girls because they are your girls. And Jungkook fights for his girls.

The strange men inch closer like hyenas. So Jungkook’s gist was correct.

“Where are you taking her? We were here first”, one of them tries to fight him, while the others gawk lustfully. Like fucking starving animals. Disgusting.

“I’m gonna punch in your face if you keep talking”, Jungkook spits and leads Wheein past them without giving them any more attention.

“Hey!”

“Come back!”

They call after them.

“Don’t listen to them, noona. I’m here now”, Jungkook assures her and pulls her closer, “fuck, should I get back there and get their names? I’ll tell my lawyers to take care of them.”

“No please just, please just take me away”, she pleads because she is too scared to stay in this situation any longer. Jungkook respects her decision even if he really wants to punish them.

“Alright, I will. Don’t worry”, Jungkook promises, leading her safely out of the club and to his car.

He helps her inside and rounds the car, looking at the club one last time. The animals which call themselves men are lingering by the entrance, sending deathly glances Jungkook’s way.

“Fucking vermin”, he presses out and gets inside his car. He locks the doors and starts the engine. “I’ve got water in the door compartment if you need it.”

“Thank you”, Wheein whispers and relaxes in the seat just as Jungkook finally takes her away from the scary situation.

You are in the parking garage, dressed in slippers and your loungewear and looking beyond worried, when they finally arrive at home. You run to Wheein the moment the car pulls in, calling out to her.

“Unnie! Oh god, I was so worried!” you hug her tightly. So tightly in fact that her brittle composure finally breaks and she cries into your shoulder. 

“I was so scared. So, so scared.”

“I’m sorry, unnie. Oh god this is awful, I’m sorry. Let’s go upstairs, I made tea.”

“Thank you. You have no idea how much I need this tonight.”

“Unnie, of course. You can crash here if you want to.”

“I think I do.”

“You can stay as long as you need. What happened? Do you wanna tell me? Oh god, unnie I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I was so scared. One of them recognised me from Paradis and, and then he and his friends tried to get me to fuck them and when I said no they followed me to-” She hides away in your arms. “I can’t.”

“It’s okay unnie, it’s okay. Just cry in my arms, I’m here.”

Jungkook lets you and Wheein talk, while he stands next to you and listens, rubbing your lower back soothingly. Wheein cries the entire elevator ride, telling you all about what happened while you curse at the men. Jungkook wanted to curse as well. He hates most of his fellow men a lot. He bears witness to how most act and think and talk when there are no women present. If Jungkook saved up each time one of his business partners made a misogynistic “joke” about their wives or women in general, he would be able to buy a house within six months. If he saved up each time he has one of them confesses how they are cheating on said wives followed by a “huh? As a man you should understand me” when Jungkook voices his distaste for such behaviour, he could buy a new sports car within seven months. Jungkook loathes most of his fellow men and how they carry their hatred for half of humanity with fucking pride. 

Wheein eats dinner with you, after taking a shower and borrowing some of your clothes. You sit by her side, holding her hand as she keeps repeating the story over and over again to work through it. Neither you nor Jungkook mind that she keeps repeating herself. Sometimes one just needs to keep talking about the same stuff over and over again until it finally stops hurting.

After dinner, you and Jungkook don’t really get to talk a lot because somehow the situation was so shocking that you both forgot to function until Wheein was truly safe in her bed. 

Jungkook is still in his suit, cleaning the kitchen after loading the dishwasher, when you return from the bathroom. He shrugged off his jacket and tie, but kept his waistcoat on. The main lights are off, only the stand lights in the living room are turned on and the light above the stove. Jungkook likes working in darkness because it is easier on his eyes. They get sensitive after a long day at the office.

You come up behind him, sneaking your arms around him so your hands were resting on his pecs innocently. Jungkook places the towel aside and leans back into your hug, caressing your lower arms.

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“Mhm”, he hums, closing his eyes. 

“Thank you so fucking much.”

He hums again. You turn him to you, holding his hands and pressing them against his chest. He looks at you, waiting for you to speak. The gratitude in your eyes is almost consuming them whole.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate what you did for Wheein today. What you keep doing for all of them.”

“They’re your best friends, which means I gotta be there for them. No, I want to be there for them.”

“You and I both know that not many think this way. Seriously, thank you so fucking much.”

He smiles, discarding you with a shake of his head.

“I’m just glad that noona is safe.”

“Me too. Fuck, me too”, you say, sagging your shoulders. You look up at him, pouting sadly to the point where your lower lip trembles. “I think I need a hug.”

“Come here.” Jungkook hugs you, rubbing the back of your head. “She’s safe now. I promise.”

“I’m so glad.”

“Me too.” Jungkook hugs you tighter when he hears you sniffle. “Let it out if you need to. I’m here for you.”

You melt into him, feeling safe. He is truly the man of the hour. Your gentle, good hearted man of the hour. 

[kunikuyu]

Until he gets tired.

Heian Era! Ryomen Sukuna x Male! Reader

Warnings: 🕊️ DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. Dom! sukuna, sub! reader. reader is simply crazy. Size kink, cut play, mention of the term 'sex slave', dub-con, sex even when passed out, bulge in the belly, begging, abusive relationship, words written intentionally wrong, sukuna has two dicks, fainting, monster romance (for obvious reasons). DNI MINORS.

Summary: Being Sukuna's partner is something completely insane. Aside from the fact that Sukuna is incapable of loving anyone, he seems to take a twisted pleasure in hurting his partners. Every night, [Name] knows that the next day, he will wake up completely destroyed.

The climate was pleasant. Not too cold, not too hot, a gentle breeze blew through the walls and windows of Sukuna's temple. But what made everything scary and strange were the screams that came from inside.

Today was a special day. [Name] and Sukuna, the king of curses, had completed a hundred years together, as partners. Normally no one would celebrate this, since... Who would want to stand next to Sukuna? No one would be crazy enough to do that.

But, [Name] is.

"Uhm~ 'Kuna..."

The ancient sorcerer purrs. [Name] was sitting in the lap of the curse, skin completely exposed for anyone to see, but protected so no one can touch. And of course no one would touch, who would even dare to come close to the one who is so 'well taken care of' by Ryomen Sukuna. His chest was already completely red and full of small cuts, which were leaking almost invisible drops of blood. He didn't even know how he managed to stay awake anymore, it seemed simply impossible not to pass out there. Not because of the small and insignificant loss of blood, but rather for the pain in his lower parts.

[Name] couldn't move, couldn't even dare breathe wrong, if he didn't want to get slapped in the face. It seemed like an impossible task, and it really was, since Sukuna's dick wasn't just anything, or just an organ. It was big, ridiculously big, it seemed like a joke to imagine that it could fit on someone. So much so that only the cockhead managed to enter the sorcerer's body.

But Sukuna didn't care at all, of course not. He smiled when he saw his flushed face, expressing pain and clearly distorted pleasure. And instead of helping, he only makes the situation worse, squeezing hard around [Name]'s entire length so that he's unable to cum. This felt more like a punishment than a reward for staying by his side for so long.

"Such a dirty little whore... Are you that used to it? Don't you even scream in desperation for me to get out of you? I don't know if I find this interesting or pathetic." He says, with his typical arrogant and self-centered tone.

Deciding that he would take things more seriously, the King of Curses pulls [Name]'s hands close enough to him, so that the younger man is completely lying on top of Sukuna, being the perfect target for the all-out aggression the older man has in mind. He liked seeing his partner like this, but he much preferred seeing him screaming and crying because he couldn't handle his dick.

[Name] lets out a howl of pain as his severed chest is thrown hard against Sukuna's chest. It was like a thousand needles going into his skin because of the small cuts located in the area, but he still managed to find pleasure in the pain.

"Sukuna...! That hurts...!"

"I know."

Suddenly, agonizing screams of pain can be heard from far away. The screams were definitely from [Name], who was now being fucked mercilessly. He drooled against the other man's shoulder while still going through the trouble of jerking off his other cock. It was always so painful, the older man's balls aggressively slapped his ass, while his dick reached the deepest layer of his body, crushing his prostate with ease.

"Stop, please!~ Sho painf- ah!"

He doesn't even have time to complain before another of Sukuna's tricks is revealed. The two bodies completely glued together served so that the mouth on the monster-man's stomach could willingly take in [Name]'s red and swollen cock. He doesn't even know what to feel. It hurts, but he's about to cum!

And...

...To faint...

This lasts all night, and several times, [Name] even faints. It didn't end until Sukuna got tired, and he could never easily get tired of his beloved sex slave. When [Name] wakes up in the morning, a small pool of blood was formed on his bed, and next to the bed, a calm and silent Sukuna was cleaning his own body, which was dirty with fluids from both of them. When looking at his body, the sorcerer realizes that his chest was no longer the only thing that was bleeding, but his entire body. His belly was even full, certainly from Sukuna's loads of cum, which were clearly not few. He can barely stay awake for long before passing out again from exhaustion and blood loss.

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ❤︎ | yandere!xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

art by @/syaden8 on twt!!

⟢ cw: a failed escape attempt from them... yandere, dark themes, petnames, mutilation (xiao, scara), violence, drugging (scara) etc. please proceed with caution! thank you.

⟢ "your order's denial is causing me trial !"

"Ah."

XIAO's lips moved, and it was that single noise that escaped.

For your room lay barren, empty, cold, the harsh winter breeze drafting through the shattered window, the bars covering it having been forcibly bent aside. "It..." For a moment, his body swayed, his own legs unable to support his weight. Then, his balance stabilized, his once by a fraction wider eyes having narrowed. "It seems my songbird has escaped."

Unacceptable. The word repeated in his head, like a mantra, a prayer, resounding within his ears, despite the silence, despite the cold that bit at his skin as he trudged through the snow, his spear at his side. A tiny, devilish voice that tugged on his ears and whispered out tales of his sin.

"Found you."

"N-No- please-" His gaze sharpened in annoyance. Desperate, your voice hoarse and cracking by the syllable, hurling yourself forward one more step, just one more, your bloody, bare feet scraped and bruised. This wasn't right, how come you seemed so distressed?

No, you of course sounded better as his songbird, in a pristine little cage, singing for him, and only him, happy tunes of joy and pleasure.

"...And as a songbird can live with its wings clipped, surely you'll understand if I...?"

The shackles locked tight around your wrists, and your useless, wretched legs, bones shattered by a single blow.

It's an unfortunate predicament, but it's the only way. ❤︎

"Oh, so the chase is on?"

CHILDE shouldn't be laughing, but oh, he was.

It's a twisted sound, with the corners of his mouth distorted upwards in a haphazard smile, his eyes blown as a dark flush of red descended upon his cheeks. "So you've decided to play this little game of cat and mouse. Very well, if that's what you want, darling!"

You aren't making this difficult enough. His keen gaze spots all the traces you've left behind, broken branches, ruffled leaves, a torn piece of the clothing he had gifted you... it's all imbued with your essence, honey sweet on his lips.

Why would you even want to leave him?

It's that thought that makes him pause upon finding you, your trembling form sprawled across the bloodied snow as he stands over you, his own shadow casting you in darkness.

That's right, why would you? He's been nothing but loving. He's catered to your every need, has he not? He's bought this house for you, all the clothes you wear, the food you eat, the bed you sleep in... what right did you have to defy his affections, now that he had made them ever so clear?

If anything, it was insulting.

Oh, but did he truly feel insulted? After all, an offended person wouldn't have taken you like that, wouldn't have knocked you unconscious and wouldn't have carried the delicate you in his arms back to home.

Maybe a better description would be "longing." Longing for your praise, longing for your thanks, longing for the smiles you'd send his way... how come your eyes have faded, since then? It's strange, he's never seen you look so... determined before, not since today.

Ah, but what did it matter?

This puny escape attempt of yours... his tongue tasted bitter.

It wouldn't happen again. He'd make sure of it, so please, don't mind the chains, would you? ❤︎

"They... dare?"

SCARAMOUCHE's expression contorts to one of rage, his brows sharply angled downwards and his violet eyes wide, quivering.

Haha... what a fool he was. He should've been more attentive, how had he not noticed your strange movements? The way you gave him a forced smile everytime he returned home, the way you'd greet him at the door with the dinner you made, and he had finally thought you had accepted his confession all those weeks ago, he finally thought you had gotten used to and started liking your life here, finally thought-

And then he thought nothing at all as his body swayed and fell to the ground. The audacity, to go and dig through his things, to go, find, and use the very drug he had used to bring you home.

By the time he awoke, the house was but a cold expanse, barren of your warmth, and he clenched his fists so tightly, his nails kissed red crescents into his skin that weeped with every flex of his fingers.

"To pull such a parlor trick against me like this... ah, doll. Don't think you'll get away with this leniently."

When he found you, not "if", he'll make sure to reprimand you properly. If breaking your spirit wasn't enough, then he'd have to break your mind too. He's already decided that he'll reshape the pure thing with his own, dirtied hands, into something that will burn only for him.

Surely, a couple missing limbs, here and there, wouldn't obstruct that light, would it now? ❤︎

(a/n) as i said on my sideblog, something about writing for toxic mentally distressed emotionally broken and heavily reliant yandere characters who turn to violence to show their love is. just so. oddly... comforting?? was going to make this longer and then some shitty shit shit went down so. yay. tears.

if you enjoyed please consider following me or leaving a note on this post!! they are very appreciated, and i am very close to hitting a follower goal that i want to reach before the new years ! thank you.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[minminyoonjii]

Hiiiii. This is a request you don’t have to answer but I would like to know your thoughts on. I know you’ve done a few scenarios where ot8’s little gas a nightmare but what about the caregivers aka skz having a nightmare about their little ( ie like their little finding a better cg etc.) and how they would smother their little with affection and love and wouldn’t want to let them go after it.

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Wholesome Sleepy Boys|Hurt/Comfort|Domestic Settings|Fluffy|Soft Reassurance Fic|Crying|Panic Jolts|Tooth Rotting Sweet

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.4K

Bang Chan

Chan furrowed his eyebrows, tossing and turning in his sleep, "Don't take them," he mumbled, reaching out his hand. "Hah," Chan gasped, his eyes blown open but his mind was disoriented. He pushed himself out of his bed and stumbled his way towards your room. "Please be sleeping," he mumbled, hoping his dream was just a dream. Your soft snores instantly reassured him. Chan exhaled deeply, "Thank god," he whispered, walking towards your sleeping figure. You stirred awake, "Daddy?" you yawned, rubbing your eyes. "Shh, shh. Go back to sleep, little one. Daddy just needed to see you," he whispered, stroking your hair. You shifted aside, "Cuddle?" you asked, making grabby hands towards him. Chan chuckled, laying himself next to you as he pulled you close to his chest. The sound of your heartbeat against his body gave him a big relief. You figured out that something was wrong but it was too late in the night to think, "Daddy safe," you whispered, burrowing your face between his pecs. Chan chuckled, kissing your forehead, "Daddy's always safe when you're here, my sweet little one," he said, wrapping his legs around yours as you both drifted back to sleep.

Lee Minho

Minho groaned, clenching his hands into fists, "Get your hands off them," he grumbled in his sleep when Doongie swatted at his hand. "Ah?" he gasped, rubbing his eyes to see Doongie's dilated eyes. Minho chuckled, scratching under his neck, "You scared me, Doong Doong-ah. I almost decked you," he said, pampering kisses on Doongie's face. Minho pushed off his blanket and walked to your room, "Cupcake? Are you awake?" he whispered, moving closer to your bed. A subtle smile etched his lips at the sight of you snuggling Dori, "Can you come out?" he whispered, seeing Dori squirm. You shifted your position and eventually released Dori from your clutches. Minho chuckled and pulled you onto his lap. You stirred awake, "Hhgh," you whined, nuzzling closer into his chest. Minho buried his face into your hair, "Hah," he sighed, nosing your hair and face. You whined at his ministrations, glaring at him sleepily. Minho smirked, kissing your nose, "Go back to sleep, cupcake. Mama just needed you close," he whispered, rocking your body softly.

Seo Changbin

"Agi, please come back," he whimpered, dread filling his sleeping mind. Changbin jolted awake, his heart pounding in his chest. "Where's my agi? Uri agi," he slurred, wobbling to your room. Changbin swung open your door, flinching you awake. Your lips wobbled, hating the feeling of distortion. Changbin swooped you into his arm, "My agi," whispered, sniffling into your hair. Tears pooled up in your eyes, overwhelmed from being forced awake, "Baba," you hiccuped, gripping his tank top. Changbin bounced you in his arms, "Shh, shh, shh. Baba's here, agi. He's never letting you go even if you try," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. You sighed in relief, melting yourself within his arms. Changbin sniffled a weak smile, "Just the thought of losing you agi broke me to tears, he whimpered, pampering wet kisses all over your face. He exhaled a shaky sigh, "I'm never letting you out of my sight," he said, swaying with you cosy in his arms.

Hwang Hyunjin

"My head," Hyunjin groaned, sitting up with his eye mask. A brief moment of his nightmare flashed within his mind. "Love!" he exclaimed, ripping off his eye mask and sprinting towards your room. "Lovely?" he whispered, hearing your soft subtle snores. Your face was burrowed into Jiniret. The sight itself made his heart swell. "You're here," he whispered, sitting on the edge of your bed. Hyunjin ran his hand up your calves, "Pretty love. So so precious to me," he whispered, kissing the top of your palm. You whined in your sleep, jutting your lips into a sulky pout. Hyunjin chuckled, lying next to you. He gently took Jiniret from your hold and gently set him aside, "You don't need him for now. Papa's here," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest. You snuggled against his warmth, a soft smile etched on your lips. Hyunjin leaned forward and kissed your forehead, "No nightmare will ever come between us, love," he whispered, drifting off to sleep.

Han Jisung

"Sweetheart, please. I can do better I promise," he begged, tears streaming down his cheeks as he tossed and turned from his nightmare. A broken sob escaped his lips as he flinched awake, "Sweetheart," he sobbed, getting up from his bed and towards your crib in his room. You blinked at him, sleep coating your eyelids. Jisung carried you up and cradled your body close, "You're okay, sweetheart. Appa just had a bad dream," he whispered after hearing your distressed whimper. Jisung carried you back to his bed, "You're sleeping with Appa tonight," he whispered, placing pillows on your side of the bed just in case you accidentally rolled off. You suckled your pacifier and stared up at him. Jisung cooed, patting your tummy, "Appa woke you up, huh? Look at your pretty eyes," he whispered, stroking your cheek. You nuzzled his palm, a yawn muffled around your pacifier. "You're right, sweetheart. We should go back to sleep," he whispered, shifting you on him. You laid your cheek on his chest, sleep coaxing you deeper and deeper. Jisung kissed your hair, "Sweet dreams," he whispered, sleeping right after.

Lee Felix

"No, no, no," Felix grunted, his hair matted with sweat. He jolted upright, "Hah, hah," he gasped, tossing off his comforter. He looked around, "My sunshine. I need my sunshine," he whimpered, standing up with wobbling knees. Felix sniffled, using the walls as support as he made his way to your room. "Sunshine," he whispered, seeing you sleeping peacefully. You lifted your head, eyes shut closed. Felix chuckled wetly, "It's just me, sunshine. Mommy's here," he whispered, sitting by your face. You nuzzled against his waist, relaxed after knowing who came in. Felix smiled, kissing your ear, "Sunshine, can I ask you something?" he asked, gently rubbing your ear. You nodded, sleep still coating your mind. Felix exhaled shaking, "Am I a good Mommy to you, sunshine? Have I ever made you sad?" he gulped, remembering the words you said in his dream before you left. You shook your head and wiggled yourself onto his lap, "No. You're the best Mommy. My only Mommy," you whispered, placing his hand on your head. Felix smiled, soft tears dripping down his cheeks, "Thank you, sunshine. I love you so so much," he sniffled, stroking your cheeks. You wrapped your arms around his waist, "Love love, Mommy more," you giggled, nuzzling his torso.

Kim Seungmin

"You're mine, munchkin. You think you can just leave?" he grumbled, clenching his jaw in his sleep. Seungmin's eyes blew open, hurt and anger simmered within his chest. "Munchkin," he whispered, getting off his bed and making a beeline towards your room. Seungmin opened your door, and your soft snores sent an odd conflict within his chest. "It's just a dream. They're still here. It's just a damn dream," he grunted, trying not to project his anger towards you. "Dada, don't go," you sniffled in your sleep, tears slowly drenched your pillow. Seungmin felt his heart clench, "Oh, oh no. Dada's here, munchkin," he whispered, brushing your hair back. You melted into his touch, his presence itself made you feel safe. Seungmin smiled, "Little munchkin thought about me too," he cooed, wiping your tears. He chuckled softly and lay next to you, "You can't live without me as much as I can't live without you," he whispered, cuddling you close.

Yang Jeongin

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean to wash Foxi.ny," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he stirred awake. The guilt clenched his heart. "I have to see my little," he slurred, getting up from his bed. Jeongin stumbled his way into the hallway. "My poor angel. I shouldn't have washed Foxi.ny," he mumbled, not realizing it was just a very vivid dream. He opened your door and beelined towards your bed. Jeongin cupped your face and sniffled, "Ninnin's sorry, angel," he whimpered, waking you up. "Huh?" you whispered, squinting at him. "I'm sorry for washing Foxi.ny," Jeongin repeated, the sleepy guilt overwhelming his brain. You nuzzled his palm, "Foxi.ny is right here," you said, holding the familiar skzoo. Jeongin tilted his head, "Oh," he whispered, wiping the snot dripping down his nose. You giggled, and wiped his nose with a tissue, "Ninnin, huggies?" you asked, wanting to go back to sleep. Jeongin blinked, "Okay, angel. Yeah. Huggies," he whispered, pulling you onto his chest. You burrowed into his hold, "Night night, Ninnin," you yawned, snuggling close. Jeongin yawned back, "Good night, little angel," he whispered, drifting off.

[mentally-gone002]

sick and into you

summary: spencer takes care of you while you’re sick

a/n: so obsessed with him i can’t!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

————————————————————————

ring… 

ring… 

ring-

“hello?” 

i pinched the bridge of my nose in a desperate attempt to make my piercing headache go away. my ringtone brought it back worse than it was before the loud interference. 

someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line before they spoke, “hey, are you coming into work? it’s almost noon.” 

it was spencer and he sounded worried. he had that little twinge of a rasp. i call it his “worry rasp” whenever i pick up on it.

i stifled a cough before answering. “no, i’m sick. i called hotch earlier to let him know.” the balled up tissue in my hand pressed into my runny nose. 

“do you need me to bring you anything?” his voice was still laced with concern i could pick up on even through the slight distortion the phone gave his voice.

i shook my head slightly and then answered him because he couldn’t see me. “no, spencer, i’m fine. plus, i have germs.” 

spencer scoffed. “everyone has germs.” his argument made me smile slightly. 

“but you don’t like germs. they make you feel icky.” 

“well, i can handle feeling ‘icky’ so don’t worry about me. i can go get soup from that cafe you really like.” he offered. i smiled at how he used the same word as me. it was something he definitely wouldn’t say any other time. “please, let me help you.” 

“spencer, i promise i’m okay. you stay at work and get all those excruciating files done, i’d love you so much if you did some of the ones on my desk. i’ll be back in two days tops, okay?” my throat hurt from that long running sentence so i started coughing. the phone moved away from my ear so he wouldn’t hear the extent of the ragged sound scrapping through my throat. 

when the phone came back to my ear it was quiet over the line. “you okay?” spencer asked after a beat of silence. i hummed, swallowing my spit to make the burn go away. “i’ll go so you can get some rest. drink a lot of water because it’ll flush out the sick. and try to eat.”

“okay… sorry i’m not in today.” i laid down on my couch with a groan. 

“don’t apologize.” spencer told me gently. 

i smiled with closed eyes. “okay. i’ll go now.” 

“okay, feel better. bye.”

“bye, spencer.” 

i dropped my phone next to me on the couch. i kept my eyes closed until i felt like i was drifting to sleep, which could have taken an hour or just two minutes. time didn’t matter because my headache slowly wore away until it was a light beating pain that matched my heartbeat. 

my body did that fake falling thing right as my mind went completely blank. i sat up in a rush, sweat creating a cling between my clothes and skin. my hair was messy and stuck to my neck and forehead.

once my body was upright i heard a sequence of knocking from my front door. 

with a groan i stood up. my muscles ached and i shivered at the feeling of my cold floor on my bare feet as i padded across it. i didn’t bother looking through the peephole before opening the door wide enough to see who was knocking. 

“spencer? i thought i told you to-“

“i know what you told me but i didn’t listen.” he held up a hand as he interrupted me. 

i nodded, squinting at the hallway lights from the complex. “obviously.” i stepped aside to let him in. “i look awful.” i grumbled to myself.

he smiled with tight lips as he did while he took off his shoes. he placed a plastic bag on my kitchen table near the door. “you look fine. maybe a little tired, but at least you don’t look like some of the people we see on cases.” he rambled while toeing off his shoes. 

my eyes were stuck on the bag on the table. “you got food,” i sighed, walking back to my living room to grab my almost empty glass of water. i filled it up at the sink before saying, “i told you not to do any of what you’ve just done.” my headache was starting to come back.

spencer unwrapped the bag he’d brought with him, placing a covered paper take out bowl to the side. “this is for you.” he looked at me, not replying to any of what i’d just said. his eyes lingered on me for a little longer than i’d liked. my arms went around my body to try and hide. i sniffled and tried to conceal a cough in my elbow. 

“thank you.” i grabbed a spoon from the dish rack beside the sink and then took the container of soup to my couch to sit inside the circle of blankets i’d been in just minutes before. 

spencer joined me. “i did a file or two that was on your desk.” he told me, reaching for a book on my coffee table to flip through it. 

“you didn’t have to do that. i was joking earlier.” my brows were pinched together in regret for saying it at all because he can’t tell when someone’s joking most if the time. 

he shrugged. “i knew that, but i still wanted to help you out.” 

i nodded. “thank you, but you shouldn’t have.” 

silence fell over the room while i ate slowly and he read half of the book i didn’t even see the title of. 

my brows furrowed suddenly. “what time is it?”

spencer glanced at the watch on the inside of his wrist. “five twenty-three.” he looked over at me, watching my face contort from confused to surprised. “what?”

“i slept for four hours between our phone call and you getting here.” i focused on the windows of my apartment to notice the dimming light from beyond the blinds and the glass.

“your body needed it.” he hummed gently. i looked back at him as he kept on reading. he’s too smart sometimes but it’s his trademark and it’s lovable. “sorry, i don’t know how to not be ‘boy genius’.” he smiled. 

can he read minds now? it wouldn’t surprise me. 

i nodded. “it’s okay, i like it.” the spoon in my hand brought more soup to my lips. “how’s the book?” 

“good. i haven’t read any of your books before.” he flipped to look at the cover while keeping his place. “this is the book jj and penelope were talking about during a case.” he hummed. 

i got a look at the cover and laughed. “twilight. you’ve never read twilight?” my question made him look at me and then hesitantly shake his head. “oh, my god. i have all the others if you wanna read the rest of them. they’re so good.” 

he smiled at me gently. “why is everyone so obsessed with a series about vampires and werewolves?” 

“it’s not just a series about vampires and werewolfs, spencer. it’s a complex romance.” i told him very matter-of-factly which ended in a coughing fit from the most use my voice had gotten all day. 

spencer moved closer, or i guessed he did because of how to couch dipped as i had my head turned away from him. he placed a hand on my back. “don’t overwork yourself by telling me about a series.” he was smiling, i could tell. “can i do anything?” 

i shook my head. “no, you’ve done a lot already. and you’re risking getting sick.” 

spencer sighed, keeping his hand on my back as he went back to reading with only one hand. “i don’t mind helping, you know.” he was too selfless. “i can run you a bath, or make you some tea. both would help you.” 

i sighed. “you are relentless, spencer reid.” the soup in my hands was placed on the coffee table so i could turn myself and face him. 

the hand he had on my back slid to my leg, resting a few inches above my knee. “i did come all this way.” he smiled, leaning further into the couch. “now let me help.” 

i sniffled and cleared my throat. “a bath would be nice.” 

he nodded and rose from the couch slowly. i watched as he walked around the couch and to my bedroom. i stood and followed. 

“you’re a good man.” i told him from the doorway of my bathroom. he looked back at me from the ledge of the bathtub. 

he smiled. “you’re the only person i’d do this for.” 

————————————————————————

idk why but i wanna do a part 2??? lmk if h should just because lolz

[cxtori]

Osamu Dazai ✮ Reckless (Fluff Version)

summary: you vent your frustrations to Dazai after the crazy stunt he pulled with Fyodor

genre: fluff, cleaning up Dazai's wounds

wc:820

warnings: n/a, slight Dead Apple spoilers

tori’s note: this is the same concept as the other one, just more lighthearted! Here's the angsty version if you missed it!

You frown as you examine the deep wound on Dazai’s back, the cut surrounded by red, swollen flesh. You groan internally as you reach for a cotton pad and soak it with antiseptic. Without warning, you press it against the man’s back.

“Owwie! That hurts, Y/n!” Dazai cries overdramatically, any pain in his voice covered by his teasing tone. Your face scrunches in annoyance, knowing he’s felt a lot worse pain than you cleaning a small cut. You glance over at the stab wound by his spine, a few stitches keeping the flesh bound together.

“Shut up! I’m still mad at you,” you huff, not showing the slightest bit of amusement. This seems to keep him quiet as he doesn’t make another sound as you continue to clean, aside from a muffled laugh.

You finish disinfecting the wound and move on to apply some antibiotic before placing a bandage over it all. 

You were pretty pissed off with him. His disappearing on you, working with an enemy, getting himself stabbed with a poison coated blade, and so on. 

You were used to his shenanigans. Afterall, it wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared for a couple days or so. It was so normal for him that the rest of the agency never bothered to question it.

You, however, were always concerned. You figured the least he could have given you was a heads up, though you know he wouldn’t have even if you’d asked.

You hated how he felt the need to do things on his own. You understood that his plan may have not gone so smoothly had others been made aware. But still. Did he really have to throw himself into such dangerous situations just to get the upper hand? Wouldn’t you be able to help him with something? 

Once done with his back, you move around to his front, forcing your eyes to not roll when you see the various scrapes and cuts scattered all over his body. 

“You are such an idiot, you know. Why do you have to be so careless?” You say quietly, more to yourself than to him. You ignore Dazai’s soft chuckle as you grab the antiseptic and another cotton pad.

Dazai watches you thoughtfully as you swipe the pad over the minor abrasions littering his skin, your face twisted in focus… or maybe it’s anger. Either way, he couldn’t pull his dark eyes away from you.

“I cannot believe you pulled that crazy stunt!” You say, your voice taking on the tone of a mother scolding her child. But you didn’t care. You were upset and you wanted him to know. “I was so worried when you disappeared! Don’t even get me started on how concerned Atsushi was. And then you just show up standing by Fyodor’s side?” 

Your gentle swiping devolves into more of a harsh rubbing as you continue to clean his cuts, but Dazai remains still, his attention focused more on your ranting than the stinging of his wounds. 

“You could have died! Had that dagger hit just an inch or two further to the right… well, you certainly wouldn’t be sitting here, that’s for sure.” You keep talking, letting the words of frustration that you’ve had bottled up flow out of your mouth. 

With your eyes trained on Dazai’s chest and collarbone, you don’t see his trained on you. His soft gaze studies your face that, while distorted by your strong emotions, he finds calming. A smile spreads unknowingly across his lips, his expression growing impossibly softer towards you.

It’s only when you realize he hasn’t said a single word that you look up at him, his eyes meeting with yours immediately. You pause.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask, unable to read the expression on his face. He remains quiet, chocolate eyes studying you closely with a kind, amused smile. “I don’t know what you could possibly be smiling about but- mmph!” Your words are cut short as he quickly leans forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You almost drop the wet cotton in you hand as he nips gently at your lips, kissing you carefully, but so passionately at the same time. His hands snake around you, one gripping your hip and the other wrapping around the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

Your mind fogs over and you almost forget what you were saying. He’s so obnoxiously good at changing the subject. Even so, you find you don’t really care as you melt further into him.

His tender lips pull from yours and you feel practically breathless as he places his forehead against yours.

“Aww, you were worried about little ole’ me?” He asks with a delighted, teasing laugh. You flush, embarrasment and some remaining anger heating your face. You huff and go back to cleaning his wounds.

“Whatever… Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“You and I both know it’ll definitely happen again.”

©Cxtori 2024 please do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate any of my works. reblogs are appreciated

[kvrinaxq]

𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

Genre: smut, mirror sex, fluff

Pairing: Hyunjin × reader

MINORS DNI

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone. The soft glow of the screen cast a blue hue across her room, highlighting the plush pillows and neatly folded blankets. She glanced at the time, noticing it was already past midnight. "Looks like another sleepless night," she murmured to herself. Her roommate, Hyunjin, was out, leaving the space eerily quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves outside.

Her thoughts drifted to the mirror leaning against the wall beside her bed. It was an antique, with ornate gold trim that matched the bedframe. The glass was slightly distorted, giving everything a faintly wavy reflection. Y/n had always found it fascinating, like looking into another world. The room's darkness made the mirror seem almost alive, as if it was watching her every move.

On a whim, she set her phone aside and stood up, approaching the mirror. She gazed at her reflection, the soft light playing across her bare skin. Y/n felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to touch herself. The idea was both thrilling and terrifying, as if she was about to cross an invisible line. But the quiet solitude of the night emboldened her. She reached out and began to caress her breasts, watching as her reflection mimicked her movements. Her eyes searched the mirror for approval, for a sign that she wasn't alone.

Her breath grew shallower as she slid her hand down her stomach, her eyes locked with the guy in the glass, hyunjin. The room felt warmer, the air thick with anticipation. She slipped her hand into her panties, her fingertips brushing against her sensitive flesh. The mirror Hyunjin's eyes never left hers, as if they were two lovers in a silent dance of desire. Her movements grew more deliberate, her breathing more ragged, and she could feel the heat building between her legs.

Her reflection's hand mirrored hers, the illusion so real she could almost feel the warmth of another's touch. The image grew blurry as her eyes glazed over with lust, and she bit her lower lip to stifle a gasp. The sensation grew more intense as y/n felt a gentle breeze as Hyunjin approached her from behind, his breath hot on her neck. He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her body tight against his, their reflections staring back at them.

"So pretty, as always," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n smiled, opening her eyes to catch a glimpse of their passionate embrace in the mirror. She wore nothing but her lingerie, tied loosely at the waist, offering a teasing glimpse of her flawless body. Her skin glowed, highlighting her perfect curves and the definition of her toned stomach. Hyunjin, equally as breathtaking, was shirtless, his muscular arms wrapped around her, his strong chest pressing against her back.

Hyunjin nuzzled his face into Y/n's neck, kissing and sucking on her sensitive skin, leaving a trail of wet marks. His hands wandered up her body, cupping her breasts, his thumbs teasing her already hard nipples through the thin fabric.

"Mmm, I want you," Y/n moaned, tilting her head to the side, giving him better access.

Hyunjin continued his assault on her neck, biting and sucking gently, his hands squeezing her breasts possessively, "As you wish". He then pulled away slightly, reaching down to undo her bra. With a soft tug, the fabric fell open, pooling at her feet, leaving her completely exposed.

The sight of her bare body sent a jolt through Hyunjin, and he pressed himself closer, his hard dick straining against his pants. He ground his hips into her, making her gasp as she felt his thickness against her ass.

"Feel how much I want you," he growled, reaching around to rub his swollen cock against her wet pussy.

Y/n arched her back, pushing her ass against him, encouraging him to tease her aching hole. Hyunjin's hands roamed down her body, caressing her soft skin, before he slipped two fingers into her dripping cunt.

"Oh, fuck," she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her, slowly at first, then faster as her juices coated his hand. With his other hand, he reached around to rub her clit in slow, sensual circles. Y/n's breath quickened as pleasure coursed through her body, her pussy clenching around his fingers.

"You like that mmh?" he asked, his hot breath in her ear.

"Y-yea, i need more," she begged, thrusting her hips back to meet his fingers.

Hyunjin added a third finger, stretching her, his thumb working her clit relentlessly. Y/n whimpered, her body shaking as waves of pleasure radiated through her. She felt her orgasm building, her pussy tightening around his fingers.

"Be a good girl and cum for me, mmh? ," he whispered, nibbling on her earlobe.

And she did. With a loud cry, Y/n came hard around his fingers, her body convulsing as pleasure ripped through her. Hyunjin slowed his motions, gently bringing her down from her climax, kissing and nipping at her shoulder as her breath slowly returned to normal.

Then, without warning, he spun her around, pressing her against the mirror, the cool surface a stark contrast to their heated bodies. Looking into her eyes, he lifted her leg, hooking it over his hip, exposing her glistening pussy.

"Ride me," he demanded, his voice thick with desire.

Y/n moaned as he lined himself up, the tip of his hard cock teasing her entrance. With a swift thrust, he impaled her, filling her completely. She gasped as he pressed himself as deep as he could go, their passionate reflections staring back at them.

Hyunjin gripped her thigh, holding her in place as he began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of her tight pussy milking his cock. Y/n's hands gripped the mirror, her nails scratching against the surface as he began to thrust harder, faster.

The slapping sound of their bodies filled the room, mixing with their moans and heavy breathing. Hyunjin leaned forward, his mouth by her ear as he whispered dirty promises, telling her how good her pussy felt, how he was going to make her cum again.

"Harder," she pleaded, craving more.

Hyunjin obliged, his hands gripping her hips as he slammed into her, their bodies colliding with a force that sent tremors through them both. The mirror steamed up with their passion, their breath forming clouds on the surface as they moved together.

Y/n's second orgasm built quickly, her body tingling with pleasure. She threw her head back, crying out as she came, her pussy contracting around his cock. Hyunjin felt her orgasm and it pushed him closer to the edge.

He grunted, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his own release. Y/n met his thrusts, their bodies moving as one, a perfect, passionate harmony.

With a final, deep thrust, Hyunjin roared as he spilled himself inside her, his cum mixing with her juices as their bodies pulsed together. Spent, he leaned his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as they came down from their high.

"I love you," he whispered, his eyes filled with adoration.

Y/n smiled, her body still buzzing with pleasure. "Love you more."

They remained entangled, their reflections staring back at them, sweaty, sated, and still very much in love. Hyunjin kissed her softly, their tongues entwining in a sweet, sensual dance that promised more pleasure to come.

And so their passionate night continued, a reflection of their desire and adoration for one another.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - mentions of kidnapping, controlling behavior, lyla is both Miguel's number stan and number one hater, and blood.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Hey, show a little faith. Have I ever steered you wrong before?” LYLA whispered, hovering just above your shoulder. You paid her a skeptical look, and she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever, but you know who programmed me! You cannot believe Miguel would be able to give me this shining sense of humor.”

That point, you couldn’t argue – even if you still had your reservations. With a deep, faltering breath, you slipped through the barely cracked door and into Miguel’s shell of a bedroom. It was dark, save for the faint red glow emanating from some half-finished electronic weapon he’d been revising and adjusting for as long as you’d known him, and of course, Miguel was still asleep. It looked like he’d made a half-hearted attempt to pull one of his thin sheets over himself before collapsing face-down on the center of his bed – which was, in all fairness, probably exactly what happened. You’d learned his routine, by now, knew that he’d likely only sleep for another three hours or so before dragging himself out of bed and back to his surveillance room. This might’ve been the first time you’d actually seen him in bed, rather than hunched over one of his many consoles or laid across a bench in one of the lesser-used hallways, having given into his exhaustion before he could make it anywhere more private. You didn’t like it. It reminded you too much of waking up in the middle of the night to Miguel looming over you, silently leering as you pretended not to notice him, even if there was a world of difference between what he’d done to you and what you dreamed of doing to him.

You stepped over the threshold, then paused. “Why am I here again?”

“Blackmail.” Miguel had mentioned off-handedly that LYLA couldn’t feel human emotions, just imitate them, but you could’ve sworn you heard a note of pure zeal in her voice. “You get the picture, I spread it around, and we both benefit.” Your phone buzzed, and you fished it out of your pocket. It was practically a brick (being locked inside Miguel’s spider-fortress meant you were blocked from contacting anyone outside of that fortress, apparently), but you still liked to keep it nearby. In the futile hope that you’d be able to call someone, anyone if you did ever make it out of Miguel’s reach, one day. “He still hasn’t gotten over the 2099-Burger. You’ve seen it, right? That was some of my best work, you should’ve seen—”

You shushed her, and LYLA flickered out of sight before reappearing on the foot of the bed, a polaroid camera now hanging from her neck. Slowly, carefully, you moved forward, only to pause when you actually reached Miguel. He wasn’t wearing anything, because he never wore anything aside from his nanotech and maybe a threadbare pair of sweatpants, if you caught him after a shower. It’d been too long since his last haircut. It was already splitting at the ends, fighting against his half-hearted efforts to comb it back and falling over his face, distorting part of his (relatively) peaceful expression. Even unconscious, he was frowning, but the dark circles under his eyes were less pronounced, his lips contorted into something that was more of a pout than his usual scowl. No wonder LYLA wanted a picture. There had to be more than a few Spider-People who’d want proof that their irritable leader could be something other than angry.

Half stalling for time, half trying to talk that better taste off of your tongue, you turned to LYLA. “Remind me why you can’t just take you own pictures, again?”

“Some of us are just a bunch of flashing light. Hot flashing lights, but y’know, lights.” She held up her miniature camera, and you looked away before the flash could blind you. “C’mon, you can’t say you don’t want to get back at him.”

Right. Getting back at him. This was supposed to be your way of getting back him. He kidnapped you, tore you away from your loved ones, locked you in a case of glass and metal, and you were going to help his AI assistant take a picture of him sleeping. The perfect revenge.

Digging your teeth into the inside of your cheek, you raised your phone, but before you could take LYLA’s picture and retreat back to your own room to sulk, an alarm you hadn’t set went off at full volume. You cursed under your breath, stabbing blindly at the screen in a panicked effort to shut it up before Miguel woke up, but an arm lashed out from Miguel’s heap before you could, catching you by the waist and dragging you into his chest just as the alarm mysteriously when silent. You clenched your eyes shut, bracing yourself for his claws embedded in your skin, for a growled threat, but nothing ever came.

You forced yourself to open your eyes and found that, despite everything, Miguel was still unconscious. You heard a camera shutter behind you – LYLA, her grin too smug not to be genuine. No doubt, you’d be able to see her handiwork on every screen she had access to by tomorrow morning - meaning, of course, every screen in Nueva York. “I thought you said you couldn’t—”

“He’s a deep sleeper. Very reactive, though – did I forget to mention that?” There was a pause, a wink. “Oopsies.”

You grit your grit your teeth. “Are you at least going to make him let me go?”

“Ah – flashing lights, remember?” Again, she flickered, reappearing an inch or so away from your face. “I’ll see you in the morning, lovebirds!”

You opened your mouth, but she was gone before you had the chance to protest. Still, you squirmed against Miguel’s vice-like hold, attempting to shove at his arm only for another to wrap around his midriff, only for him to pin you that much more tightly to his chest. There was a low, heavy grunt, then his nose nudging against the side of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin. Slowly, instinctually, his fangs pushed into the curve of your neck, drawing out a pained whimper, a thin trail of blood. His teeth lodged in your throat, his body wrapped around yours, he settled against you, his breathing falling back into a steady rhythm. Making sure you’d stay where you were until he woke up – whether that was in one hour or eight.

It was all you could do to take a deep breath, close your eyes, and hope LYLA would lead you to a swifter death, next time.

[stealingyourbones]

Submitted Prompts #144

*shakes a bag of bird skulls I found in the woodsI and places it on your desk like it's a bag of gold*

I had an idea:

What if the Fenton parents are, in fact very competent Hunters, but they love their children more than their work?

Say the first shot Maddie ever fired at Phanton actually lands, and the scream he makes sounds too much like Danny's voice, to a point even with any ghostly distortion, his own still recognizes the voice.

I can see her pulling Jack to the side, making a ruckus about how the "darn ghost got away just as her blaster ran out of juice". Mostly as a way to get Danny her darling son to leave and go somewhere safe, while his parents have a whole breakdown in the GAV about their dead son.

And so begins the stealthy studies on how Phantom's "human disguise" works, the Revelation of Horrible Truth, keeping tabs on Danny's growth and revising their whole attitude on Ghosts to account for the fact that Danny himself is, at least in some part, a Ghost himself, but all he's done is live his life (and be the little hero Mom always said he'd grow up to be).

Jazz stumbles across his secret and is immediately pulled aside to join the secret "Protect the Baby Ghost" family group chat.

"And what about all the times they shot at him in canon" I hear you ask?

They're damn good shots, but while Maddie can train herself to aim just so that the shot misses just enough it looks like Phantom dodged it, Jack has the Fenton Bazooka outfitted with a tracking HUD that purposely fails to hit everyone's favorite Ghost Boy.

Danny picks up on that, but not on the fact that They Know.

And so begins the single most convoluted training arc ever.

Next time Skulker's in town, Phantom has become untouchable. Not a single shot or electrified net reaches it's target.

(The electrified weapons in particular send the Fentons into a rage when Sam and Tucker finally can't keep hiding it, and come clean about what happened, since the Fentons have proven themselves to be trustworthy)

When Red Huntress comes about, and Valerie Grey becomes barely a distant acquaintance after having only just now started becoming more than a friend, and with the GIW sniffing about, Maddie and Jack pull Danny to sit between them and finally tell him they know, and they want to prove that they'll love him just as much as before, whether Human or Ghost.

Danny breaks down in the safety of his family's love, and takes some time off as Phantom to help his parents establish a proper line of communication with the Ancients, considering they've kinda adopted themselves into the roles of Aunts and Uncles towards their little Ghostling.

Which is a good thing, because in Phantom's absence the GIW make a giant spectacle of destroying several houses while chasing some blob ghosts. They're chased out of town by brick, stone and metal bat.

Next time Red Huntress actually manages to hurt Danny, the Fentons pack up and leave. The Portal can be transported somewhere else. It can be rebuilt.

Their baby boy can't be rebuilt, no matter how much he likes to be a little shit and ignore Reality to quote Shakespeare at his own head (thank you Mr Lancer, for not giving up on him) or "give them a hand".

As Fenton takes the last tour of Amity, Phantom disappears. The Protal has been left seemingly unguarded.

The Ghosts decide to have one last hurrah in Anity Park before Danny closes the Portal, as per their deal. They won't hurt anyone, just cause chaos, but in return Phantom won't stop them. It's not like poor Red has the energy to chase them down, now that she's been "upgraded" into Amity's sole defender (the one time Lancer compares her new lack of sleep to Danny's, horrifying pieces start lining up too well in her mind)

The Fentons move out. Into a quiet farm neighbouring the land that belongs to the delightful couple that are the Kents, and their darling son, little Clark, who stares at Danny mildly horrified whenever he comes by to babysit, or help out with fixing the stubborn tractor. One day under Danny's clever hands, and Jonathan Kent's eagle-eyed gaze, and that damned tractor has never worked so well before. The boy's alright in the old man's eyes, and he makes sure they kid knows it.

After quiet rooftop admissions of one small boy's growing powers (I know Adult Clark is a brick house of a man, but what if he was a little twig while young) and the reveal of Something More Than Human from his honorary older brother, the course of Time sets into it's best version, and an Old Clock smiles, as Superman rises, only to be scolded by Spectre for recklessness.

(Dunno how well it came across, but I'm envisioning Valerie's feelings towards Danny to go from bitter resignation because she " had to" push him away, to horrified despair when the truth starts falling into place. He's her "the one that got away". And it's not like she gave him much of a reason to trust her with his secrets.

Maybe older and wiser Red Huntress gets invited to the Justice League, and has to deal with not just Fenton, but also Phantom flirting with her, after a good long conversation on how dumb they both were as kids, and a mutual vow of "I think I can do better now, and I want to prove it to you")

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Three

One | Two

I usually try to throw out updates weekly but I got possessed by the muse for Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins and, like, finished the main chapters for that in a daze hfjdk I still need to write the two epilogues, but needed a little break, so here we are!

Part three has Eddie confirming his suspicions, like two seconds of angst that is immediately thrown out the window, and a little flirting UwU

I hope you enjoy! As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ^_^

----

Something hits Steve in the back of the head. He'd be upset if not for the fact that he's facing away from Dustin and gave the kid paper for the express purpose of throwing if he needs Steve's attention. After much trial and error, the system finally works for them.

Steve sets down the plate he was washing (the aftermath of Dustin asking for grilled cheese sandwiches and annoying Steve until he caved) and turns, drying his hands on a dish towel. "What's up?"

Dustin's chest and arms are sprawled across the table, looking for all intents and purposes that he'd collapsed from sheer boredom or frustration. When Steve speaks, though, he sits up straight so Steve can see his mouth properly. "Can you pick me up tomorrow?"

"I thought your mom was."

"She told me this morning that she got saddled with a last minute thing."

Steve frowns, slowly parsing through Dustin's mouth movement and trying to find the shape of words. He doesn't get all of them, but he gets enough to understand the problem. "Oh," he says, "yeah, sure. Right after school?"

Dustin shakes his head, pushing his biology homework away so he can lean forward. "Hellfire is tomorrow. Eddie says it's gonna be in the math classroom. Can you meet me there at 4:30?"

Somehow, Steve immediately recognizes Eddie's name. Unsurprisingly, it makes him think of the guy, and his mind happily offers up the memory of Eddie laughing on stage. Steve struggles to push the memory aside, at least moving it to a corner until he can properly reminisce later.

"Which math room?" Steve asks, hoping Dustin doesn't notice a longer than normal delay in his response.

He doesn't, if his relieved and happy grin is anything to go by. "213," Dustin says. He then pauses, as if suddenly thinking of something. "Also, uh, maybe wait in the next hall or something. Don't let Eddie see you."

"Why can't Eddie see me?" he asks. Has Eddie been complaining about Steve lately? Has Dustin spent the past week listening to Eddie insult or make fun of Steve for...something he did at the Hideout? Did he not act normal enough?

Well, it's probably not that last one. Robin is great at elbowing Steve when someone is talking to him. She's saved him from numerous awkward situations with that move. It's almost worth the bruise he'll inevitably get from her sharp elbow.

"He won't, like, shut up about you," Dustin says, his nose wrinkling some in disgust and distorting the shape of his mouth. He waits until his expression is under control to add, "He can't get over you attending his gig or something. Keeps saying it's weird that "King Steve" likes metal."

"Oh."

Steve feels his shoulders grow heavy, a weight pressing down on him. He can't hear how Dustin is saying the words, and Dustin's expression isn't animated enough for Steve to glean any kind of tone. But experience has taught Steve that Eddie is probably complaining, even if Dustin isn't saying it outright.

Now that he's thinking about it, it probably was weird for Steve to just show up to a heavy metal gig. He's never shown any sign of liking the genre to others before. Then again, he's pretty skilled at passing for completely "normal" to other people. That results in him being King Steve, though, and that version of him might be all that Eddie can see, which would make his appearance at the Hideout pretty fucking awkward, huh?

Steve is so lost in his thoughts and the feeling of remorse and embarrassment and frustration that he almost misses how Dustin rolls his eyes, his shoulders jerking with a scoff. He pays attention just in time to watch as Dustin says, "Yeah, so if he sees you, he'll probably grill you on your favorite bands or something. He's, like, obsessed with figuring out all the other freak things about you. His words, by the way."

It's a lot all at once, and Steve ends up asking Dustin to repeat himself twice before he can fully comprehend everything. Despite the slightly annoyed look, Dustin doesn't complain. When he finally understands each word, that weight lifts from Steve's shoulders, the sudden emotional whiplash making him feel a little floaty.

"That's why he can't see me?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at Dustin and leaning back against the sink.

"Yeah, it'll take forever. It's like when Mom runs into a friend and just stands there talking for a whole hour," Dustin complains, sprawling himself across the table once more when he's done speaking.

Steve snorts and leans over, ruffling his hair and jerking his hand back before Dustin can smack it. "I promise we wouldn't talk for an hour, but I'm not going to avoid Eddie. If he sees me, he sees me."

Dustin doesn't need to know that a small part of Steve really hopes Eddie sees him, deafness and all. And maybe he'll even like what he sees.

----

Eddie Munson is not stupid.

Well, his grades and teachers would beg to differ, so he'll rephrase that.

Eddie Munson is a fantastic DM, which means he regularly takes a big plot twist and sprinkles hints of it throughout each session of a campaign. Doing this means being able to put those puzzle pieces back together, too, and ensuring they lead up to the logical plot twist. So, Eddie's brain is great at seeing some puzzle pieces scattered around and putting them together to make a complete picture, and he's definitely been seeing some puzzle pieces.

Like Steve Harrington never looking over when Eddie first speaks to him. And the way Steve stares at his mouth, his brows slightly furrowed like he's trying to decode something (Eddie would love for this puzzle piece to belong to a "Steve Harrington wants to kiss Eddie Munson" big picture, but he's not delusional). And how Steve needs to be nudged or needs to see someone before realizing they're close to him. And how he didn't seem to understand Eddie's words until he looked down at a notebook Robin had scribbled in.

And that's not even counting the stuff Eddie Munson noticed about Steve in high school. Steve Harrington walked through the halls like someone was hunting him, his shoulders tense and his eyes always flitting around from person to person, like he was scared of someone sneaking up on him. He always seemed to ignore people when they called out to him, and Eddie had once dismissed it as him being an asshole. Steve never actually paid attention in class, either; he'd spend the whole time doodling in his notebook or zoning out while staring at the wall. He didn't even look up when the teacher called on him, and eventually the teachers stopped trying.

So, yeah, Eddie has slowly started piecing the puzzle together, resulting in a picture that he never would have linked to Steve Harrington, of all people. But it's the logical conclusion. It's the brilliant plot twist that makes so much sense when you review previous campaign sessions.

He just needs to test it, to see if he's actually right or if he needs to review the pieces once more.

Eddie's chance comes after Hellfire Club on Wednesday. Their session had finished a little earlier, if only because the players had gotten through Eddie's planned journey faster than intended. The next part couldn't be stopped five minutes in, so Eddie had called it a day and gone to the bathroom while the others talked about their character progression.

In the few minutes it took for him to piss, Steve had strolled into the school and started waiting in the hallway next to the math room. He's leaning against the wall, head tilted down as he reads a small book, his lips turned down into a slight frown as he concentrates.

This is the scene Eddie sees when he rounds the corner, and before he can really think about it, he scurries back to remain out of view. He's not scared of Steve Harrington. He just knows this is the best chance he's got to test his theory. Eddie glances around the corner, watching as Steve turns the page of his book, and he suddenly wants to know what has captured his attention so strongly.

Eddie takes a deep breath and slides around the corner again, sticking close to the wall to remain out of sight. "Hey, Harrington," he says, his volume normal and easy to hear.

Steve doesn't react. He doesn't even twitch or give any indication that he heard Eddie and simply decided to ignore him.

"Haaariiiiingtooonnn," Eddie calls, a little louder and drawing the word out.

Still nothing. Well. Steve frowns a little deeper, turns the page back, and rereads whatever part has tripped him up.

"Steve, you motherfucker," Eddie says, the same volume as before, and this time trying something that might anger him. "Your hair looks ugly," he adds. It's a lie, of course. Steve's hair looks fantastic, and Eddie wants to run his fingers through it.

No reaction, and Eddie is starting to feel brave. He takes a few steps closer, still hugging the wall. "Oh, Stevie," he says, getting a slight grin, "big boy, sweetheart, darling, pretty thing." The endearments easily fall from his lips, hanging in the air with Steve none the wiser.

So. Eddie thinks it's safe to say his theory is correct: Steve Harrington can't hear. And Eddie is suddenly, achingly curious to know more. He wants to see how Steve, with his perfect hair and his stupid little moles and his blinding grin, navigates the world when he can't even hear it. He wants to know how Steve experiences music; he wants to know how many other people know; he wants to know if Steve ever gets frustrated and what he gets frustrated about; he wants to know if Steve's other senses are stronger to balance out his lack of hearing.

He wants to know everything.

Eddie strolls over, standing next to Steve and tapping his shoulder. He feels a little bad when Steve jerks in surprise, sliding back a few steps and looking at Eddie with wide eyes. "Don't do that!" Steve says, his gaze flitting around the hall before he forces himself to calm down and look at Eddie.

"Sorry," Eddie says, hoping his expression tells Steve just how much he means it. "You didn't look up when I called you."

Steve blinks, his lips twitching into an almost wry smile. "I, uh, was really absorbed," he says after a moment, idly holding up his book so Eddie can see "The Bicentennial Man" by Isaac Asimov on the cover.

"Heavy reading," Eddie says, trying to remember if he'd ever seen Steve read science fiction in high school.

Steve shrugs, glancing at the cover with a slight frown. "Dustin and Will were talking about it a few days ago. They seemed to like it. Figured I'd see what the fuss was about," he explains.

"Is it worth the fuss?" Eddie asks.

But Steve doesn't answer because he's still looking at the cover. A few more seconds pass before he sighs and looks up at Eddie. "It's kind of confusing," he admits.

And Eddie can't help himself. He wants the satisfaction of truly knowing he was right, and he wants Steve to know that he knows what's up. So, he asks, "Are you deaf?"

-----

Steve tenses, his shoulders hiking up, and he holds the book closer to his chest like it will somehow shield him. "What....how did you know?" he asks, deciding he doesn't need to try bluffing. Eddie's voice wasn't hesitant. He already knows the answer.

"Just noticed things," Eddie says, shrugging as he steps closer to Steve and grins.

The thing is, Steve hasn't tried hiding his deafness lately. Sure, he would have rather died in high school before letting someone discover he couldn't hear, but now? Now he doesn't really care. He's faced literal monsters; someone just innocently asking if he's deaf shouldn't result in the spike of anxiety that shoots down his spine.

At least, Steve thought he wouldn't care. Apparently, his body didn't get the memo, and years of habit had taken over, putting Steve on the immediate defensive. He clenches his jaw, forces his shoulders to relax, and reminds himself of Dustin's whole "Eddie seems weirdly obsessed with you" comment from the day before.

"Is that a problem or something?" Steve asks, relaxing his shoulder and forcing himself to stay in place.

Eddie pauses, frowning like he hadn't expected Steve to ask him that. "No," he says, the word a little drawn out based on how long his lips linger on the "o" shape. "How long?"

Okay. Steve can handle this. He can already see Eddie's questions following the same path as Robin's and Dustin's when they first learned he was deaf. "I started losing my hearing in elementary school. It was pretty much gone by high school," he explains.

Of all people, Eddie should be the most understanding, right? He probably isn't deaf, but Steve's deafness is something that makes him a freak. Sure, it wasn't super obvious in high school, but it still has to count for something, right? It has to help erase the King Steve persona from Eddie's brain, right?

"That explains a lot," Eddie says, tilting his head slightly and narrowing his eyes like he's trying to filter his memories of Steve through this new lens. "You don't have hearing aids?"

"I, uh, don't usually wear them in public."

"Why not?"

Steve opens his mouth to answer but stops himself. Saying he didn't want people to know in high school would feel shallow, yes, but it would be true. Besides still needing to actually get new ones, he doesn't have much of an excuse for not wearing them now. He frowns slightly, gripping the book in his hand a little tighter. It must make some kind of sound because Eddie's eyes flick down to it before looking back up.

"I didn't want people to know in high school," he finally says, rubbing his thumb over the book's cover in an attempt to expel some of the nervous energy he feels. "If people knew, especially teachers, my grades and stuff would've been blamed on, you know, my deafness. And then my parents would've put me into a special school for others who are deaf or hard of hearing. I didn't really want to get transferred like that, especially in the middle of high school."

"What about now, Stevie? You're not exactly in high school anymore," Eddie says. And did Steve read his lips right? That was his name in the middle, he doesn't doubt that, but...was it changed? There was an extra movement at the end, Eddie's bottom lip pulling back slightly like a long E was thrown in there.

It's not like he can ask, so he shoves the thought away, thinking instead of his crushed and useless hearing aids. His shoulders slump a little at the thought. "My hearing aids are broken, but I don't have enough for new ones yet."

Eddie's eyes narrow again, and he leans a little closer. "Aren't your parents, like, stupidly rich? I mean, I've been to your parties, Harrington, it's not a small house you've got there. Just ask Mommy and Daddy to buy you some new ones," he says.

Steve blinks, trying to grasp the words while also processing just how strongly Eddie's "cigarette smoke-weed-woodsy outdoor" smell overwhelms him. It's not bad (maybe it should be? Steve doesn't think he's ever liked these smells before), but it makes Steve's head feel fuzzy and slow, like he's trying to wade through cotton balls. He blinks again, pushing through the daze to say, "Can you repeat that? You, uh, you spoke too fast."

The smell recedes as Eddie leans back, his lips quirking up into a smile that's more...indulgent than it is mean. "Your parents are rich. Ask them to buy you new ones," Eddie says.

Okay, that's...significantly less words than Eddie said before. Steve frowns slightly, frustration budding in his chest because he wants to know what Eddie said, not what he asked. He feels like he's being left out of a conversation he's actively participating in, and he has to swallow back his immediate, frustration-motivated response.

Eddie doesn't know, he's likely never spoken to a deaf person before. Steve should give him the benefit of the doubt and a little leeway, right? Honestly, Steve is fucking tired of giving people the benefit of the doubt and leeway, but what else is he supposed to do? Blow up? It would be nice in the moment, sure, but the aftermath? The inevitable apology and the potential indignation from the other person? That sounds fucking exhausting. He'd rather complain to Robin later.

"I want to buy my own," Steve says, knowing his sudden shift in demeanor has been noticed by the confused furrow of Eddie's brow.

Before he can say more, Eddie reaches forward, grabbing the sleeves of Steve's sweatshirt. Based on his surprised expression, it was an impulsive move, but Eddie doesn't let go. He just swallows (Steve should not be staring at Eddie's throat like this) and looks at him. "What's wrong?" he asks, and his face is so expressive that Steve doesn't need to hear his tone to know he genuinely cares and wants to know.

Without thinking, Steve blurts out, "I asked what you said. You just repeated what you asked. I want to know everything you said. Every word. I feel like...like you're trying to dumb things down for me, like you don't think I can actually, I don't know, understand everything. I'm deaf, not stupid."

Eddie's eyes widen slightly. "Oh," he says, licking his lips nervously before nodding. "Okay, yeah, it was kind of mean, though," he admits.

"That's worse, actually," Steve says, frowning and gripping the book tightly once more. "I'll just feel like you're mocking me, or getting off on making fun of me when I don't know. Just repeat yourself, word for word."

And Eddie does. He seems uncomfortable doing so, but he speaks a little slower and makes sure Steve can understand each word this go-around. At the end, he adds, "Like I said, kind of mean. Sorry."

Steve watches Eddie for a few seconds before grinning. "It's fine, Eddie," he says, suddenly realizing how close Eddie has gotten and how Eddie is still holding onto his sleeve. And then, to make sure Eddie knows it's okay, he puts on what Robin calls his Bitch Voice and adds, "Besides, Mommy and Daddy don't need to know I've broken another pair. I'd like to live to see next year."

Eddie blinks when he hears the Bitch Voice and perks up slightly, a grin tugging at his lips and his hold on Steve's sleeve tightening slightly. The awkward moment seems to have passed, and Eddie confirms that by asking, "So, what do you really like about heavy metal?"

"I can feel it. Literally. Heavy metal has stronger vibrations, so I can experience it more easily. I don't really know how the words are sung, but I can feel the beat," Steve explains.

"Then, what did you think of our set?" Eddie asks.

He looks a little nervous, and something in Steve settles, relaxing into place. "Like I said, it was great. Especially your song at the end. I haven't really felt a song like that before. Does your band have more original stuff?" he asks. Maybe he can convince Eddie to record some of their songs so Steve can listen to them. Or, even better, just play only their songs at their next gig.

"Of course we do," Eddie says, standing a little straighter and grinning a little wider and looking at Steve like he's put the stars in the sky. "I'll play them for you next time, sweetheart."

Steve blinks at the word he definitely understood at the very end. Before he can ask about it, though, Eddie glances behind Steve and quickly lets go of his sleeve. Not two seconds later, Dustin shoves himself between Eddie and Steve, looking up at him with an eager smile and bright eyes and Steve has the worst feeling.

"Steve! Can we have a movie night at your place?" he asks as the rest of the kids filter in, pushing Eddie further and further back.

"Sure, but you have to call your parents and tell them when we get to my place," Steve says, incredibly grateful he can't hear when Eddie winces at the cheer that comes from the kids.

And then the kids are pushing him down the hall, undoubtedly arguing with each other about what movie to watch first and not giving Steve a chance to say goodbye, or ask if Eddie was serious about playing for him, or ask if Eddie had meant to call him sweetheart or if that was just, somehow, a mistake.

-----

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[gyummigon]

like when we first met, i hate you and i love you | beomgyu

beomgyu x fem!reader | playlist

୨୧ word count: 6.8k ୨୧ genre: angst, slight smut ୨୧ warning: non-explicit sex (or so i think), unspecified mental disorders and illnesses, depressive thoughts, thoughts of death, thoughts of loneliness, verbal incitement to suicide, very mild violence (not dating violence), unstable and unhealthy relationship, emotional dependency, mild family strife, and lots and lots of anguish. i don't suggest reading to anyone under 18, in fact don't read it if you are under 18. ୨୧ a/n: writing this was a challenge, but i consider it to be one of the writings i put more of myself into. thank you in advance to the people who are encouraged to read, and i hope i will not disappoint you. my native language is not english, so i apologize for any errors or inconsistencies in the text. have a nice weekend!

It was easy for Beomgyu to feel trapped in his own mind, to mourn the days that were more than just lost; he swore that he remembered nothing of them, and yet they could bring him down at any moment.

He had spent nearly a quarter of his life living in hospital rooms, moving from one to another, but in the end remaining within the same four plain, pale walls. No matter how many times the morning came to him, or how long the night before, they meant nothing when all he could see was a ceiling that could only be distorted in the recesses of his mind. 

On this particular morning, the ceiling he saw as he lay sprawled on his bed was not the usual one. The sun's rays struck him from a different direction, the comfort of the mattress was not what his body was accustomed to, and the gentle puff of your breath beside him sent his mind wandering to alternatives that would save him from his growing need to flee your uncomfortable presence. 

Your situation was not entirely unfamiliar to you. You knew him too well to have any idea what was going through his mind. The guilt overflowed from the brown of his eyes and hit you almost as hard as the reality of waking up in the same situation again. As you felt the warmth of his body next to yours, you wished bitterly that he was a stranger, that way you could let him go without claiming the warmth you lost the moment nakedness stopped meaning anything.

"Beomgyu," you called him with an uncertain tone. You slid your head from the pillow to his chest and let his heartbeat against your ear flood your mind with fear. You wished you could control it and make it keep beating even if it wasn't for you. "Promise you won't let this happen again."

Beomgyu closed his eyes. The yellow color of your walls was too cheerful and always made him feel depressed. 

"I'll visit you tomorrow," was his answer. He gently put your head back on the pillow and started to get up.

A lump in your throat kept you silent as the raw fragility of his nakedness escaped the sheets. Even as he finished dressing and turned to look at you, you kept your attention on the place farthest from her eyes, afraid to get too close and discover that there were demons lurking there.

You and Beomgyu met in seventh grade, in the fall of 2016, under the rays of a bright sun and the orange hue of the leaves of an old oak tree. He had just transferred to the same school as you, but with his bright and enthusiastic personality, he had no shortage of friends, attention, or the furtive glances your curiosity encouraged you to give him. The first time you spoke to each other was after an embarrassing skateboard fall at school, but a handshake and a few awkward smiles sparked a bond that made you inseparable.

Aside from similar musical tastes and an interest in hiking, you didn't have much in common and were constantly having not-so-serious discussions about your differences. It was this contrast that made Beomgyu so eager to spend time with you. You were the respite from his usual routine, the color that was missing from the memories in his mind; the shade that waited to protect him from the sun, even though you were completely unaware of his difficulties. And things should have stayed there, in an innocent and uncomplicated friendship, but your childish need for romance and his urge for compression turned you from friends to lovers in a matter of months.

It was an inevitable fact from the beginning. He was a young man full of life carrying a heavy secret, and you were a naive young woman who didn't know what she was getting into when he opened the doors of his heart and you walked right in. By now, after six years of relationship, both of your hearts were worn out and the constant barriers that Beomgyu's unstable mental health put between you widened a distance that even monotony could not close. Beomgyu felt his soul heavy and dirty even when he was near you, the color of your life itself made him feel like a gray stain, and the shadow that once comforted him now burned him every time he tried to cling to its coolness.

"If I don't come tomorrow, don't go to the hospital until you've finished your homework, okay?"

The pain hidden in your silence made Beomgyu feel miserable and almost made him give in to your earlier request. Promising you was the right thing to do, but with him being meaningless, purposeless and pretending, how could he control himself not to come back here?

"You'll be all right, won't you?" he heard you say in a weak, languid voice.

He couldn't do anything but look at your grieving body under the sheets. He felt terrible, like a piece of trash. Every time he looked at you, he realized how disgusting he was for coming here and making you do all those things. He wanted to get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness and at the same time berate you for letting him do it, for giving him your body even though it made you both feel dirty.

"I love you."

He wasn't sure if those words came out of his mouth and reached you, maybe he had buried them, forgetting their meaning and now they were just a broken compass. What day was it, could he go on or back? Was this the end of the story or had it just begun?

He hated himself so much.

A small smile that didn't reach your eyes spread across your face, you pressed the sheet to your body and propped your knees up on the bed so you could touch him. "Will you be okay?" you repeated as you traced the softness of his cheek with your fingers.

In a losing battle against despair, Beomgyu leaned his face into your touch and closed his eyes. He could not stop pretending that you were not the vessel into which he poured his misery. Every word out of his mouth seemed to weigh tons and lying was the only way to be with you more than just physically. 

"I'm trying."

"How long will you keep running away?"

Hearing you, Beomgyu opened his eyes and you sighed as the familiar feeling of fear and uncertainty washed over you as you looked into them. There was a heartbreaking fragility and desperation in them, the same one that was present every time he touched you and made love to you; the same one that remained when his lips moved slightly upward, giving you a faint glimpse of the hidden dimple on his cheek.

"I'm not running away, the hospital doors are always open."

"Beomgyu." You tried to sound stern, but the quiver in your voice at the mention of his name was noticeable.

"Don't worry," he murmured, putting his hands over yours to pull them away from his face. "You have enough burden with school, so avoid distractions and study hard, okay?"

"Then don't come back here, please."

"I'm so sorry." Beomgyu, with his eyes closed and a lump in his throat, placed a hand on your head and pulled you close to him to plant a kiss on your forehead. "Get some sleep before you go to school."

A helpless expression appeared on your face as Beomgyu gently stroked your hair before pulling away. You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip to stifle any more pathetic pleas from your mouth, listening to his every footstep taking him away from you.

An impulse made Beomgyu turn on his heels and look at you again. For some reason, when he saw the way you hugged yourself and closed your eyes tightly, a deep urge to die washed over him from head to toe. He thought he owed it to you after all he had put you through, that there was no other way to give you a chance to escape him.

With a sigh, he took one last look at you and turned his feet toward the exit of your room, offering you the only comfort of his absence and his silence.

And as every time you watched him leave, you felt that he took a piece of your soul with him.

"You have to stop for a moment." You heard Hanna say as you both walked to your next class.

Walking across campus carried a weight that felt thicker in that moment. The weight of the morning was reflected in every step you took, shuffling your feet with the characteristic reluctance of one who has crossed an already too long college day. 

Your path to your next class is a routine one, but you have never been able to get used to the distance between one classroom and the next. As you made your way along the path of worn bricks and open spaces where the bustle of students mixed with the sound of car engines, you felt overwhelmed and anxious to get home as soon as possible.

"Take a break." Despite the weight of her guitar on her back and the art portfolio occupying her hands, Hanna moved forward beside you with lighter steps, keeping a calm tone in her voice. "You're starting to rub off on me with your negativity, if you're too tired to study then rest."

You sighed and looked at the time on your watch, your class had started five minutes ago and you still had a long way to go to get to the building where the class was. 

"You just don't get it, I rest every day even when I shouldn't," you said as you picked up your pace and Hanna mimicked you without any difficulty. 

"Procrastination is not rest, you have to really relax."

If your breathing hadn't been so fast due to the intensity of the walk, you would have sighed. From your perspective, the situation was more complicated. Your current emotional state was beginning to affect your academic performance, and you hated it. As a student of letters and a lover of reading, you had never fallen so far behind in your academic reading and homework. You were used to reading for school as much as for yourself, but in the last few weeks, it was impossible to even hold a book without being a matter of time or will. You couldn't find the concentration to be yourself anywhere, and you feared that if you didn't overcome the block and regain some focus, you would have to drop out of your classes before you failed. 

  The thought of doing poorly in school made you feel absolutely worthless and nervous.

"I'll try to change, just... don't tell Beomgyu. He's been a little intense lately about the idea that I'm doing well here."

"Why, is he pressuring you or something?"

You paused and thought about all the times Beomgyu told you to stay focused in school, to study hard and get the best grades. It always seemed to you that he said it in a sad rather than a demanding way.

"No, but the situation has been difficult since his relapse," you replied.

Hanna looked at you for a moment with her big, thoughtful eyes before she let out a sigh. "Y/n, since I met you your relationship has been difficult." 

"As long as he was under observation he would study online, but he became an irregular student. I guess that's thwarted his plans a lot and knowing my current situation will probably make him sensitive..." you tried to explain in a hurry, but stopped yourself when you couldn't ignore the little conviction in your words. Hanna gave you a reassuring smile and maneuvered her hands to free one of her arms for a few seconds and wrap it around yours. Both your legs slowed in unison and your body relaxed as you tilted your head and rested it on her shoulder.  "Do you love him?" 

Her question didn't surprise you, but you let a few minutes of silence pass between you before answering. For some reason, it was always difficult to talk about your relationship with Beomgyu; either they didn't understand it at all, or they understood it too much that you started to get the pity treatment. 

"Of course."

"As a boyfriend? I mean, do you love him romantically, not as a person you've known since puberty?"

You turned your head away from Hanna's shoulder and brought your gaze to an imprecise point in front of you. It wasn't always up and down with Beomgyu, the stability you both once had and kept you both so alive was as tentative as the current instability, the love manifested was as strong as the doubts. What did it matter how you loved him now, there was no way to know that it would make a difference. The two of you were bound together by more than love, you had a history with too many loose ends to tie up, words whispered in silence that needed to be heard and answered, wounds deep enough to choose to bleed without trying to close them. Yes, the distance was frightening, but you weren't defeated, you could take what you needed from each other to survive, and that wasn't necessarily wrong.

Except for the fact that neither of you were alive. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Hanna's voice broke through your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You let out a sigh, each question weighing you down with exhaustion. "I just... I want to understand you."

"Does he seem bad to you?" you replied without a hint of anger or concern. 

"No, I like Beomgyu, I just... since I know him, he's kind of scary to me." 

"No, gosh... He's... the nicest, most sensitive guy I've ever met."

"Not that type of scary." 

When you heard these words, you felt frustrated. You didn't understand, even though you were also scared, you didn't understand what it was that Beomgyu reflected when he was with you that you couldn't see; because you were also absolutely terrified and couldn't identify the cause. 

"He's fine, Hanna." 

"And I'm so glad, but what about you?

You wished you could answer that question without your heart trembling with hesitation, but you were at a point where you doubted even your own words. What your mouth was saying and what Hanna could surely read in your eyes were contradictory things. If only you could have at least known which was true...

"I'm fine, okay?"

Your eyes glided over each word on the page with an almost exaggerated slowness, you had read the same paragraph over and over again in the last few minutes, your head was throbbing and fatigue irritated your eyes, but they were not the reason for your lack of concentration, at least not the main one. 

Beomgyu sat a meter away from your desk, and you could feel his attention on every twitch of your facial muscles, on the movements of your hands, on the restless tapping of your foot on the floor. Those silences were the ones you hated the most to share with him, they made you insecure and any chance to approach him in a way that didn't make you feel suffocated slipped through your fingers. 

You closed the book with a sigh and turned in your chair to look at him. The dark circles under his eyes hardly surprised you, they seemed as dull as the last times you saw him, barely a spark to show they were still screaming inside.

"Are you done?" he asked, slurring his words, but you were sure he already knew the answer.

"I'm tired," you replied instead as you stood up and sought a safer position on your bed, away from his eyes.

"Me too..."

You sighed as you saw him shrink back into the chair and averted your eyes to the floor. You couldn't shake the desire to be silent that came over you every time you saw him, even you couldn't describe the feeling, it made you sick, afraid to say the wrong thing, to push down the hopes he could barely hold in his hands. You were so afraid of breaking him. Despite your caution, you admitted that you were one of those guilty of endangering the stability of the thin rope he was walking, because as long as you were together, you would be the person Beomgyu held his hand and led him to discover the worst ways to sabotage him. It was as if he was testing your criminal mind and inviting you to watch from the front row as he murdered his own dreams and hopes for life.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you felt the weight of his body sink into the mattress. You turned your face in his direction, slightly dazed as you watched him kick off his shoes and curl up into a ball under your sheets. You sighed, not resisting the urge to bring a hand up to his face and caress his cheek, the way you knew he liked it. 

"Lie down," he asked you in his little whisper. 

There he was, like a ghost in the darkness, looking at you with a longing that made your body tremble. Though he was overflowing with an inexhaustible weariness, and his features bore the nostalgia of the stars that once shone, he was heartbreakingly beautiful. His smooth skin had the feel of a misunderstood canvas, his eyes, deep and enigmatic, carried unreadable pleas. It was sadness embodied in the skin of an ethereal being, unable to be torn away. 

Your eyes closed unconsciously as Beomgyu leaned towards you after you obeyed his words, hiding his face in the curve between your neck and shoulder. The warmth of his body was always overwhelming, but his words had the power to slip between the trembling crevices of your heart and freeze its beating at will. 

"I miss you..." he murmured against your skin, the roughness of his fingers clinging to your hips and his nose sliding along your collarbone, enveloping your skin with his breath and stealing layers of your scent. "I miss you so much."

How many times had he said those words to you? You wanted to scream at him that you were here, that you hadn't gone anywhere, that he had you, that nothing would tear you from his side, but even you weren't sure of that anymore. 

"Me too, babe," you replied, lowering your face to his as his eyes sought yours. Damn it, you thought, it will happen again. 

Within minutes, Beomgyu's lips left your neck and traced a path down your belly. Silently, you gave his hands permission to roam beneath your clothes, to trace the curves of your breasts and massage your soft flesh. More than one sigh was stolen from your mouth as his fingers slid to the pointy centre of your breasts, sending a stream of emotion through the gentle pressure. You couldn't explain the emotion that was marked by the trace of his touch on your skin, it wasn't lust, it wasn't need, it wasn't passion, but it was soft and comfortable, just enough to seem like love, just enough to reduce the agony and inappetence of longing to something subtle. 

You whispered his name and cupped his face in your hands to draw him to you. Despite the suffocating emotion in the air, your bodies met in an anxious embrace, seeking solace and a cure for the raw hopelessness they could only express through gestures and silent caresses. The weight of his lips against your forehead made you close your eyes, almost begging him to never let go. Your lips ached with the need that filled them as the cold enveloped your body and replaced your clothes. But he did not kiss your lips, though they cried out in supplication, nor did you kiss his, knowing you would find the bitter taste of apology in them. 

You also helped him get rid of his clothes. You imitated his lack of shame and suppressed any negative emotions that would make you believe that seeing and touching him as you did was wrong. How could it be so wrong when you had Beomgyu in your hands, gentle, vulnerable and intense? Trembling sounds escaped his throat and bound your hands, begging for more. His hands tightened around you, his fingers sliding down each side of your neck and his thumbs pressing against the softest, most vulnerable part of your shoulders. You leaned into his direction, letting his warm breath brush against your ear. 

"My sweet Y/n..." Despite your skepticism that such a thing was possible, the sweetness in his voice made you believe that he really could feel the lost, that your body and voice could soothe his pain.

You kissed his hips with your fingertips, touching the roughness of his bones, holding him close as he wriggled against your touch. He responded just as sharply and slid one hand over your belly and the other between your legs where he pressed his fingers to your most sensitive spot, where pain and pleasure intertwined and sent a tightening sensation to your chest. "Beomgyu..."

"Shhh... it's okay."  He took hold of your knees and, as if he had forgotten his own frailty, he exposed you and adjusted your position for him. Your eyes sought his, eager to hold on to something, to reassure you that it wasn't a stranger touching you; to remind you that all was well, that you were safe. You wanted to find security and familiarity away from this quiet, reserved, sleepy version of himself, you wanted a smile of encouragement, one that would light up the night but not set the moon on fire. 

Beomgyu held your waist, preventing the involuntary, violent jerks of your pelvis. You swallowed saliva, dizzy and anticipating the raw invasion of his being inside you. 

"What's wrong?" you asked as you watched him look at you motionlessly. 

"You're not wet enough."

"It's okay, just do it."

 Beomgyu's lips brushed your cheek, his voice a whisper in your ear as he leaned closer. "I just want you to relax," he said. "Let me take care of everything." 

With a gentle tug around your waist, he sank you deeper into the bed, your head back against the softness of the pillow as he parted his body from yours to give him an open path for his hand to the shy, sensitive place between your legs. His fingers traced the inside of your thighs and slid down to the slit of your crotch, where he made circular motions with his fingertips for a few seconds before penetrating you.  

You closed your eyes and gasped for air. It was as if he was lulling you and slapping you at the same time. Part of you wanted to take it with or without pain because you didn't think you could take it much longer; another part of you, the more disillusioned part of you, wished it was him who gave up and ran away. You tried, you really hoped it would work. For a while, sex had been the relief for this raw ache, but nothing really cured it. No matter how many nights you devoted your body to Beomgyu's desires, there would always be a night when you would lock yourself in your room and cry for all that he lacked, for all that you couldn't give him, for all that you didn't want to give him. And he would know, he always noticed these things, the tears burning under the flesh of your cheeks. But he would not caress your heart as you cried, nor would his hands wrap around you as your mind and soul had done a thousand times with him. For Beomgyu would still be miserable, and neither you nor he was ready for him not to drag you down with him. 

Your body responded to the demands of Beomgyu's fingers and gave him what they were looking for. He clung to you as if he didn't want you to escape. You could feel his muscles tense and tremble, his breath in your ears, his heartbeat and breath on your skin. It was the only thing you could hold on to so that you wouldn't collapse right there. 

Beomgyu slid back, his fingers suddenly far away from the spot between your legs. The feeling of his emptiness inside you was such a familiar pain that you almost reached out for him for a moment, but the caress of his lips on your shoulder and that voice you missed so much brought your focus back to him.

"You're not leaving, are you?" he asked as he slid slowly and carefully inside you.

You didn't answer, you both already knew the answer.

The silence in the room was overwhelming. You were lying on the bed, minutes had passed since your breathing had returned to normal, and now the only sound in the room was the pattering of the rain against the glass of your window. The sweat had dried on your skin and the sheets; your muscles, now relaxed, felt a slight sense of fatigue that made you want to stay in bed. 

You looked at Beomgyu's back and traced the curve of his posture with the pad of your index finger. The delicate contours of his vertebrae were illuminated under the dim light of your desk lamp, lacking muscular strength, with a fragility palpable in every stroke your finger outlined. 

"Don't come back tomorrow."

"Y/n..." he said in a vague form of protest, but you cut him off before he could say anything else. "I have an exam and I really need to study.

I'll visit you on Friday." There was a minute of silence in which you thought he would try to protest, but he just nodded.

"Well, uhm... Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"You're thinner."

"Maybe."

"Have they been feeding you well?" He gave you a sideways glance and raised his shoulders reluctantly. "It's hard, I have no appetite."

"Hospital food is terrible, isn't it?"

"I guess."

You sighed and looked at the back of his head as if you could see through it. 

"It's not the kind of food we were made for," you replied, trying to lighten the mood. Beomgyu finally moved, turned around and his head landed right on your chest. You could feel his hands touching your ribs, his lips in your hair, your feet on his. "I could make you some fried rice," you continued. "So you can eat something."

"It's okay, just stay with you. I don't need any-"

Your eyebrows furrowed as he interrupted himself. He had raised his gaze and was now staring at you. 

"What's wrong?"

"You look pretty."

Pretty.

The mood in the room changed when he said those words. You held your breath. Everything around you seemed weaker, as if it would fall apart at the wrong sound. You wanted to speak, but you dared not, out of weakness, your absurd cowardice, to show what you were thinking inside. You didn't feel beautiful. You didn't feel loved. Oh, what a relief it would have been to be able to express it to him at that moment, what a different and less complicated way it would have been not to wait for your surroundings to collapse in order to tell him all that you were hiding inside. Maybe if habit did not keep you silent when misery hovers around you, maybe if darkness was not the only stimulus urging you to seek the light, maybe you would have said it. 

I feel lonely. 

"Let's cook something, you know, like old times, but this time without burning anything. Let's make gimbap, but not just any gimbap. We can look up my grandmother's recipe, remember? I made it once for your birthday, haven't made it since, but I don't think I've lost the touch. The recipe has to be out there somewhere. My mother..."

"Okay," he interrupted, surprising you with a kiss on the cheek. "Forget the gimbap, fried rice is fine."

"Do you... do you want to join me or would you rather stay here and rest?"

"It's okay, your sister could meet me any minute."

"I'll be back in a few minutes."

With an overwhelming hope growing in your chest, you left your room and went to the kitchen. The house was plunged into a terrible silence and you had to fight the urge to return to the room, knowing that you would not find a warmer atmosphere inside. But the silence didn't last long, just as Beomgyu had predicted, Leah, your older sister, closed the front door as you finished descending the last flight of stairs. You were wearing only a plus size t-shirt and your panties, so you weren't surprised by the annoyed look she gave you.

"Looks like the rain caught up with you after work." 

"He's here, isn't it?"

You weren't even surprised that she ignored your attempts to start a conversation away from Beomgyu. You rolled your eyes and headed for the kitchen without looking at her. "Oh, not again, Leah."

"That bastard," you heard her curse as she nipped at your heels. "He thinks he can do whatever he wants to you because of his illness?" 

"He didn't do anything to me."

"That's the problem, y/n. In your opinion, he never does anything."

"Mind your own business, Leah." You told her as you tried your best to look busy, moving your hands around the closet, but the truth was your hands couldn't even remember what they were looking for. You opened one of the cabinets, then another. By the third, you felt a little discouraged, so you opened the fourth. Your hands began to despair, until finally a small package of rice wrapped in plastic caught your eye. You gently picked it up and placed it in your lap as you pulled a wooden stool closer to the side of the counter and sat down.

"I'm minding my own business." She replied, standing behind you for a few moments, a tense silence settling between the two of you, and you didn't dare look her in the eye. You felt a pang of embarrassment.

"Leave me alone."

Leah took one of your hands and forced you to face her. "You know I don't like to keep quiet when it comes to this, I didn't before, I won't now. Even if my words are in vain, even if I don't have the right to tell you what to do, I won't swallow my disapproval of you continuing this story in which you are clearly not a heroine. You are a fool, just like mom, don't you see? You witnessed her long years of misery for what? To repeat history? What is broken only hurts."

"Stop." You pulled her hand hard. "This is between Beomgyu and me, no one else has any part in this. How many times do I have to explain myself to you?

Leah let out a frustrated sigh, she seemed to be debating your words and your back stiffened as you waited for her next attack, but the tension in your body turned to surprise when you felt her hand tugging at the collar of your shirt.

"Leah!" you screamed, but your attempts to push her away faltered as you became aware of what she was looking at with such displeasure. You didn't even remember the purple marks on your collarbone, they were old and therefore barely noticeable, but her sharp eyes hadn't missed them and her expression made it clear that he knew who the culprit was; which was just one more reason to increase her displeasure.

"I'm going to... God, that idiot..." After a few seconds of silence, you heard her sigh and turn away. You felt your stomach sink. "Is he upstairs?" 

"Leah, don't..."

Your reflexes were fast, but not fast enough to catch her before she came out of the kitchen. Less than a meter from the stairs, your fingers clutched at her clothes, perhaps too tightly, perhaps so desperately that it left your sister and you in disbelief. 

You thought of Beomgyu waiting for you in your room, vulnerable and feeble with his own thoughts. Maybe he agreed to let you cook for him because he wanted to be alone, maybe he called you pretty because it was easier than saying anything else. Maybe you loved him and it wasn't right. Maybe you hated him and he knew it. Maybe you took his sadness for granted, or maybe you should have understood that he wasn't worth it. But there was more, something darker than all possible answers, something you suspected but were afraid to admit to yourself, afraid to face it. 

Beomgyu didn't need you, it was you who needed him.

Your hand loosened its grip on Leah's clothes and you stepped back. A tremor went through your body as you looked down at your hands, suddenly afraid of yourself, your own demons. "I'm sorry, just... leave him alone."

For a few seconds you thought she would say something, argue, scream, or just try to move on as if she didn't hear you. She did none of these things, instead she turned back to the stairs and said those words that hit every sensitive nerve in your body. 

"If your disease doesn't kill you soon, you should kill yourself."

At first, her words were like an attack that you couldn't digest for the first few seconds. They hurt, they stole your breath, and you heard the crackling of something weak, something sensitive breaking; but it was only when you saw where the attack was directed that fear and a searing anxiety invaded your body and made your knees fight against a wrenching weakness.

"Leah!" the scream tore at your throat. 

Beomgyu was standing on the stairs when he met your sister's gaze. His jaw was clenched, but his tired expression made him look almost expressionless. But he wasn't. He was shaking, more than you. He was suffering, more than you. He had never looked so small, so fragile, so far away. And you had never felt so helpless, so frightened, so unaware of your impulses.

"How... how can you say such a thing?" Your palms slapped Leah's back, once, twice, three times, as if to force her to spit out an answer. You were distraught, desperate, about to burst into tears. "How can you be a human being and say such a thing? How can you be my sister and..."

"'Whoa, whoa, take it easy... Just calm down..." Beomgyu's arms, who seemed to have rushed down the stairs at full speed at the first of your attacks, wrapped around your waist and pulled you back. You tried to pull him away, even though you had no intention of returning to your sister, but he clung to you tightly. "Come on, outside." 

You didn't resist as he led you outside your house. His hands released you only when he closed the door behind him and you turned to him with a pleading expression. Beomgyu said nothing but shook his head in a gesture you could not decipher and the fear that shook every part of your body could not have been worse.

Silence.

You parted your lips, desperately wanting to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Beomgyu gave you a dejected smile and shrugged his shoulders, a gesture he always made when he wanted to play things down and cheer you up. You had to look away to keep from collapsing. 

The raindrops on the pavement were bright white under the streetlights. The streets were empty, the only sounds being your accelerated breathing, the pattering of the rain, and the rustle of the trees in the wind. The air was tinged with damp bark and earthy moss, a smell that for the first time you found more devastating than comforting. 

"I'm going home, back inside." 

Your breath caught in your lungs and you made an incredible effort to get the words out of your mouth. 'If your disease doesn't kill you soon, you should kill yourself'. These words kept going over and over and over in your mind. How could your sister tell him that, how could she even think about it? Beomgyu, who had lived in a body full of anxiety, instability, impulsiveness, confusion, and paranoia since he was sixteen. Beomgyu, who had to live with an incurable diagnosis and inexhaustible medication. Beomgyu, in whose confused mind, behind a thick layer of emotions, there was only a genuine desire to be loved, accepted and valued by himself and others. Beomgyu, insecure, bright, dull, happy, depressed, who started a new war against himself every day. If your sister had known all this, would she have said those cruel words? If your sister had seen the sharp, cutting impact that melted into Beomgyu like a heavy anchor that prevented any hope from floating, would she really have stayed at home so calmly?

"She doesn't know what she said," you whispered, lifting your gaze from the floor to look deep into his eyes. "She's... selfish, arrogant, completely irrational. She thinks she knows you. They think they know you. But they don't know anything about you! They don't know you like I do, no one...no one..."

"It's okay."

"Nobody does."

"I know." Beomgyu took your face in his hands, his intense eyes never leaving yours. "You know me better than anyone."

"Stay."

Beomgyu shook his head sadly.

"No, I..."

"I love you."

Your interruption seemed to shake the ground beneath Beomgyu's feet. The boy sighed shakily and leaned his forehead against yours. His eyes, now wet and shiny like the concrete of the long avenue, were hidden under his eyelids and closed with the force of something burning to be seen. 

"Do you sometimes... do you sometimes not have the urge to die together? To throw us in a lake and drown? Something like that?"

A sob escaped your throat and your hands cupped his cheeks, almost as if you were holding his heavy soul with the edge of your fingernails to keep him from slipping from your grasp. Nothing was ever more frustrating. "No, God, of course not, how can you say such a thing? I want nothing more than to live by your side, to synchronize your heart with mine, to hear you breathe, to see you smile... I want to calm you down and for you to calm me down. I want to survive with you.

Beomgyu let out a soft snort that resembled an attempt at laughter. "Always giving me the cold shoulder. Go back inside, you'll catch a cold."

Your hands grabbed his clothes. You didn't want to let go, your whole being told you not to, not to let him go, not like that, not with those words still echoing in his head. Beomgyu gently pushed your hands away and you trembled. You were afraid for everything, for him, for yourself, for the future. You feared his departure and that he would become unreachable. For the first time, you feared that you didn't love him. 

Beomgyu's breathing was steady now, only the faint, clear outline of his body pressed against your chest told you that he was still there, still present. "I'm scared," you whispered. 

"Me too."

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Friday, I'll see you Friday." 

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Finally, you stepped back, still wanting to say many things, but lacking the right repository of words to get them out. Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to speak. But he didn't. You took a deep breath and stepped back again, your face blank and your hands hanging limply at your sides. Your lips trembled, but then, almost out of nowhere, you smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, nothing like that, given the situation. It was desperation eating away at your life, the wind hitting your body and telling you how empty your hands were now. It was Beomgyu, tired and in pain, making his way into the distance.  

You smiled even more when the sky began to rain.

masterlist - txt

© gyummigon | all rights reserved. copying or adaptation prohibited

[are-you-still-writing-that]

Yandere Alphabet: Tobias "Ticci Toby" Rogers

It was genuinely so much fun to figure him out. (If I would care, it would almost be scary how many of my own habits I projected onto him, but o well...) I hope you will enjoy this little thing!

Toby Rogers

One word: Unstable. That is all you need to know about him. His movements, his moods, his sanity. All of it is unstable. Wishing you good luck would feel condescending at this point. So I´m just gonna laugh quietly to myself as I leave the scene of the crime. You are aware that this man is a disaster waiting to happen, right? Oh well, you are done for anyway. Byebye~!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He comes closer to you, leaning down to get on eye level with you, as you struggle to stand up again. Faster than you react, he already grabbed you by the collar of your shirt. Beneath his googles you know he is staring at your face, and even though you can´t see his eyes, it gets uncomfortable quickly. He leans further into your space, leaning to your neck. His fingers, jerking slightly, brush aside your shirt, as he pulls down his mask. Then nothing but pain, as he buries his teeth in your shoulder. Licking the blood away, he bites down again. Carefully circling the indents of his teeth, he whispers something about scars. Later he clings to you, demanding head pats and cuddles, and every once in a while, he will scar you again with his teeth.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

The scream ends in a gurgle, as he slams down his hatchet again, and again. And again. Again. He won´t stop. Blood is splattered all over the floor. It´s dripping from his hair and face. When his movements stop, he turns to grin at you widely. The wound on his cheek distorts his face even further. Hatchet still in hand, he grabs for the corpse with the other hand, and drags it over to you. You´re shaking as he simply drops it down in front of you. Rolling on the balls of his feet, he almost looks like a child. Nothing left of the rage, he had relished in only moments before. He looks like a cat who is proudly showing off his prey. You notice how his face suddenly seems to shift at your lack of an reaction, and you quickly lean over to inspect his kill. Thank you, you mumble out as you look over the wound, slightly poking them to get your hands bloody, because you know it will make him happy. No problem, that´s what a good boyfriend should do, no? Watch out for his partner? And you are mine after all! His sentence ends with a little laugh, as he crouches down next to you, to explain to you in detail how he slaughtered the other.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He flips faster than you can predict. Sometimes, he seems amused by the way you flinch away from him, whenever he moves to fast. Mocking your reactions to him, and setting you off on purpose. His laughter, a rasp that must hurt, echoing through the little cabin. There is no escape from him. Other times, he looks at you with worry. His eyebrow furrowed, as he slows down on purpose. You can see how he clenches his teeth, trying to suppress the jerks of his body. Something, that is not only not really possible, but also puts him in a terrible mood. You don´t mind the laughter or the worry. Because what you really hate, is the anger. Because sometimes he rages, when he sees you flinch away from him. He is up to your face, screaming, spit flying into your face. His grip becomes so tight, you swear, that you feel your bones creak. In those moments, you always fear, that he will always grab his hatchet next to put an end to it all. You hate it.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

You were shaking again, standing in the middle of the cabin, when you felt how his arm snaked around your waist, only to pull you flush against him. He was breathing against the back of your neck, as he seemed to relax. After a moment he also wrapped his other arm around you, only to rest his entire weight on you. With a satisfied sigh, he pulled away from you after a few minutes. You blanched, when he pulled you towards his bed. A happy smile on his face, as he pushed you down, climbing to lay on top of you, as close as possible. Obviously in the mood to cuddle, no matter what you would say.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Whenever he had a nightmare, you would be awake long before him. His sudden jerking of limbs right next to you, pulling you from sleep. Every time you would slowly sit up, not touching him, and instead wait for him to wake up by himself. Shuffling back to lean against the wall, you wait. When he would finally come to with a big gasp, he would look around panicked. It would only take a moment, before he grabs you, and burrows his face in your lap. Big sobs shaking his body. He would talk, but stutter heavely, thrills and whistles would make it hard to understand him. Never mind, that he was still slurring his words from sleep. This would be the only time, he would be vulnerable in front of you. Straight from a nightmare, he would use you for his own comfort. Talk to you, till he felt better, about whatever his brain had cooked up that night. It was easier to placate and comfort him on those nights. You had learned that the hard way.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He doesn´t seem to register the punches, the kicking. Ignores the screaming. He laughs when you bite him. Cooing at you, proud for you to marking – maybe even scarring – him like that. He bites back as well. Drunk on joy of how you seem to reciprocate his feeling for you. This is not a game, that you can win. The look in his eyes tells you, to appreciate that he sees your fighting as a game, that he enjoys scuffling with you. Because if you already can´t win the game, you would certainly loose the fight. And the consequences would be gruesome.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He loves the hunt. You can see it in his eyes, how much he enjoys it, whenever you try to turn away from him. To run. To escape from him. He adores the chase. His eyes glinting in delight, when he jumps up to chase after you. His feet carrying him securely across the uneven forest ground, while you stumble. He knows, that you won´t escape him, and deep down you know the same thing. His confidence let´s him be calm, while your panic clouds every thought. The woods around the cabin are familiar to him, while you struggle not to fall. No matter where you turn, you know he will still be on your trail. You can hear him whistling behind you. And when his weight suddenly slams into your back, his knees pressing into your back, as you hit the ground. He lets out a delighted hoot. It´s only slowly, that he will get off from you. Pulling you from the forest floor, absent-mindedly patting dirt from your clothes, as he pulls you back to the cabin.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

He leans over you. At the moment you are still sleeping. Completely unaware of the intruder in your home. He can´t help himself, but to reach out, and softly caress your face. You won´t wake up. Not yet. You are a surprisingly heavy sleeper, as he just finds out, and it suits him just fine. He looks around your room for a moment, shuffling through your papers, rummaging through your pictures. There is a smile on his face, but soon enough, he looses interest in that. The source of it all, after all still sleeps right there. You scream, when you wake up. His face is covered, as you kick and scream, desperately trying to get him off of you. He doesn´t budge. He easily pulls you from your bed, and before you know it, slams your head against the edge of it. Your screaming stops as you dazedly look around. Everything seems to swim and dance. You mumble out something like that and he just laughs quietly, as he lifts you from the ground, half-dragging you from your room, out of your home. You don´t know it yet, but it is the last time you´ll ever see it.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He looks at you laying on his bed. Still unconscious. You´re breathing peacefully, blood dripples down your face. Not that you notice it. With a quiet sigh, he stands up to get a wet cloth. Carefully dabbing at your wound, he wonders why he even took you in the first place. His tongue clicks, more annoyance than tick, as his head rolls to the side. Settling back down into the chair to watch you, he drums his fingers anxiously on the armrest. He already knows how this will end. No matter, what he will try or attempt, how much he wants to trust in you. There is only one possible ending left for you and him. You will leave him. You will betray him. And he, in a fit of rage will kill you. It´s almost sobering, and he chuckles slightly. He always set himself up for disappointment, but he doesn´t mind. It´s always nice, while it lasts. You twitch, seems like this story is about to start. He doesn´t know the middle, but it comforts him, that he already knows its end.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

You had noticed, before he came for you, that the people you would get closer to, would vanish. They would become the victims of gruesome murders. His murders, as you had to realize later. The rage he felt, upon seeing you with someone else, drove him, to murder them in a gruesome fashion. It calmed him down tremendously. Toby would later talk to you, about his murders. Seeming almost proud, as he looked at you. Either not caring, or not recognizing the horror you would mirror back at him. Wide eyes, short breath. For him, you looked excited. And so he kept talking. Happy to share his stories with you. While you slowly realize, that you won´t get away from him alive. Not with how easy killing seems to be for him.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

You watch his every step. But that isn´t surprising. You just woke up in this place one day. Him chattering endlessly into your ear. If the situation was any different, it would be easier for you to admit. Toby is actually quite sweet, when it comes to you. He has his mood swings were he is annoyed and in general aggravated by everything, but you also noticed, that he distances himself from you before that. You see, that he quiet literally bites his tongue, and just waves you away instead. His entire behaviour just tells you how much he adores you. He tends to sticks close to you. He listens attentively, when you say something. You´re always touching somehow, with how he tries to cuddle up to you.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He was picking at his cheek again. Pulling at the edges of the wound with his fingers, when he clasped his hand in his lap to stop himself from ripping it open even further, he unconsciously started to prod it with his tongue. Toby was nervous. Terribly so. His eyes track your movements almost lazily. He perks up when he notices, who you are talking to and his teeth grit. When blood suddenly pools into his mouth, he opens it again, and carefully feels out, how much of his tongue he accidentally bit off now again. Not much. Lucky. It would be a lot easier if he could approach you. Felt confident enough in himself, to simply go up to you and introduce himself. He ticks. His head rolling to the side, as he clicks his tongue. It repeats several times, before it finally stops again. The stress is slowly getting to him, which only makes everything worse. After all, he is very aware of how he looks – his hair is disheveled, his clothes always dirty, there is a giant hole in his cheek and he looks like he hasn´t slept in days – and the habits he has – the ticks, so many of them, the stutter, and quite frankly the social ineptitude – that approaching you can only become a disaster. So he thinks of something else, as he watches you disappear behind your door, checking the lock quickly, as he leaves. It´s not a very good one. It would be easy for him. And well, once you´re with him, it can´t be that bad, right? With a grin, he hounds down your newest suitor, happily whistling, as he already plans to come back tonight.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

It´s hard for him to control his emotions in any manner. He tries sometimes. Leaves, when he feels, how his emotions nearly overrun him. But it never works. His mouth is often so much faster, than his mind can keep up with. He talks about blood and guts, and how fun killing those guys were. How much fun it was. All the while not even realizing, that you aren´t enjoying what he talks about. Sometimes he simply sits down next to you, refusing to say anything, as he simply watches how you move. He knows, that he will say the wrong thing again, when he opens his mouth. It´s inevitable for him. He can feel the tension building up in his body, and the sudden way, that it releases again. Sometimes it´s just a click of the tongue, a slight twitch, and other times a full body shiver. He never could hide, mask like other people did. With his body, his emotions. And over time, he stopped trying. He grew more careful, sure, but he was always true to himself.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

You look at him. He is shaking, as he tries to take deep breaths. You can see, that he is trying to say something, but it seems like he has problems forming the words. His brows furrow, almost like he is in pain, and then he violently twitches. His head drops down to his shoulder, there is a loud crack, and you flinch away. You can see, that he suddenly looses his balance, and drops to the floor. His attempts at speaking stop, as he simply rides out the ticks. For a moment you wait, breath held, to see what he will do next. He is slow, when he pushes himself back to his feet. You can tell, that he is still angry, and his stutter is worse. „Go away!“ He points to the room, he shares with you, and you don´t try to fight him on it. You leave. Slide down the door. Only moments later, you can hear things breaking, screaming. It doesn´t stop. His crying gets louder, as he lets out his frustrations on the furniture. Nothing will be left standing in his path. You are safe in the room. Still scared.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

You try to run, when he leaves the hut for the first time. You can´t believe, that this is supposed to be your new home or whatever he calls it. It makes you sound like some sort of stray animal, that he picked up on the way. It aggravates you. When you finally get the damn lock on the door open, you don´t wait for another moment. You´re out of the door and running. The forest is not familiar to you, you don´t even know, if you´re close to your actual home. A giddy laugh almost escapes you, that is tragically cut short, when the handle of a hatchet just barely misses you head. Ducking, you stumble forward. Turning to the side, you can see the man – What was his name again? Toby? – watching you. Though, you can´t see his eyes through his googles. He stands still for one moment. In the next, he is already upon you. Throwing you down to the floor, his weight enough to immobilize you. „Not now. Let´s play later, kay?“, with that he simply starts to drag you back. The hand around your ankle like a vice, as he slowly, but clearly not bothered by you, makes his way back to the hut.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

You swallow. Completely unnerved by the way, he is looking at you. Wide eyes staring at you. Almost lazily, he makes clicking sound with his tongue. It´s strange to someone act like this. You carefully try to move further away from him, hoping that a greater distance will lessen the absolute terror you are feeling at the moment. It doesn´t work. Instead a smile slowly grows on his face. His eyes bright. The gaping wound on his cheek wrapping to accommodate the change. You shudder. He lowly starts to talk. His voice nothing but a whisper. He stutter, you notice, and if you would actually listen to what he says, you would notice, that sometime he interrupts himself with a strange term or phrase. But you don´t, so you only notice his stutter. Not that you are focusing on that either, as he slowly crawls over to you. Closer and closer, till he can reach you again. His fingers twist themselves into the hem of your clothing, as he keeps talking to you. His eyes unwavering. Looking at you. Maybe even through you. You don´t know. All you can focus on is the way he holds on to you. Careful. Afraid. Not willing to let go. Never letting you leave.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

You have stopped to answer him for quite some time now. No matter what he says, you seem to ignore him. At this point, he is sure, that he said something to upset you, but he doesn´t know what it was. And he can´t ask you either, because you are giving him the silent treatment. Well, he talks enough to fill the silence between the two of you by himself. And you always had been a good listener. Though recently he started to notice a saccharine smell clinging to everything, like rot or mould, in the hut. He shrugs it off, and helps you to the living room. Unmoving. So still, but he hefts you up anyway to carry you over. He absent-mindedly wonders, if you would at least eat something today. He talks to fill the silence. The smell of decay his most loyal friend. And you. Or whatever is left of you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Sometimes he does wonders. He looks at you, and imagines a world where the two of you could have met differently. Before long though, he will shake his head again, forgetting this flight of fancy, as he focuses on what he has. There is no use for him to cry over lost opportunities. There are already so many things, that he doesn´t know. So many things, that he had forgot. He will watch you, stay close to you, in this little hut, that he calls his home. Sometimes, he will wonder again, when you cry yourself to sleep. But instead of wondering for long, he simply takes you in his arms to shush you back to sleep. There is nothing he can do about it now. He doesn´t regret taking you. Because he knows, he would have regretted it more to let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Some days, Toby will flinch away from loud men screaming with rage, without knowing why. He will look at some girls, and wonder why they seem familiar to him, as if they remind of someone he once knew. When he works, he sometimes hums something under his breath, without knowing the words to the melody. Even then, he is sure, that when he tries to sing you to sleep, that the words would be in a language he had forgotten a long time ago. He is reminded of a past, that doesn´t exist any more for him. Toby has lost many pieces of himself. Too many. He can´t give anything of himself away any more, without becoming hollow. So, when he gave you his heart without knowing, he had to keep it close. No matter what.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

There is a heavy clump in his chest, pressing down on his lungs, as you let out another anguished wail. He was fighting against his won tears, as he tried to calm you down, but nothing was working. He couldn´t even remember what had upset you so suddenly, or when you had started to cry like this. He coos at you, pulling you into his arms with a hug. Peppering kisses across your face – over the bridge of your nose, your eyes, before pressing one deeply to your forehead – while he carded through your hair. Even if he didn´t understand why you so sad, he knew that the two of you would get through this. Together.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Before long, you notice, that his mood tends to be... unstable. It´s not something, that is very surprising at first – the whole man seems to be the definition of unstable – and yet it is still something, that you notice quite often. Because no matter what you do, he will still lash out without rhyme or reason. Sometimes at you, sometimes when he quite literally recoils from you to leave the room. It´s quite – at least that´s one word for it – strange. Another thing, that tends to draw your attention is how he clings to you. No matter where you go or what you try to do – When he is there, he will hold onto you. Most days he will try to fill the silence with his talking, still always keeping an eye on you as if waiting for your approval. On other days, he will be quiet, but his hand will be fisted into your sleeves, as he simply holds on. The strangest thing, though, is how used you get to him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He was gone again. You didn´t know if it would only be hours, days or maybe even weeks. You look over the little hut, he called home and you called far less favourable things. You think about it for a moment longer. Then decide „Fuck it!“ and bolt. You don´t if you will run directly into his arms or if you will actually get away. But event then, he could still catch up to you. Doubt floods your mind, but for the moment you are free. You would laugh, if he didn´t remind you so much of yourself at the moment. Because no matter how much you wanted forget, you could never quite do it. Leave behind the days on which you would basically barricade yourself into your room to avoid all possible contact with other people, and instead of doing something – anything – productive, stare at your wall for several hours. You understood him in that moment, and quite frankly hated yourself quite a bit for it as well. You sat down next to him, and wondered if he would even care in this state, if you simply walked out of the door.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

It happens quickly. Like everything with him does. Without warning or any prompting. No sign for you. Nothing. One moment, he is still cuddling up to you. And while you are uncomfortable with it, you still let him do what he wants. He is talking about something or the other – you aren´t really listening to him – while you pet his hair slowly. Tousling it one way and then another, as you hum every once in a while. You could almost call it peaceful. And in the next moment, he is screaming. Cursing loudly, he lashes out. You shriek in fright, when he goes for your face. The pain is sharp, when his fingernails cut your cheek open. He is nearly spitting, as he yowls in anger. He throws himself away from you, as you start to sob quietly. Tearing at his hair, he flees from the room. Later, he will apologize. All soft again. „Sorry, sorry“, he wont´t stop repeating, as he wipes the dried blood away, and presses a soft kiss to your face, which he cradles between his palms. „Love you“. Still you can´t help but to notice the slight tremor running through his limps from now on.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Toby likes to bring you gifts. Sometimes, at least. It´s never something grand. Little things, that reminded him of you, that he presents to you with a smile. It´s almost cute. Though sometimes, when he thinks you aren´t looking, you see the mask fall. How his eyes take in your reaction. He is manipulating you. You know that. Doesn´t mean, you know how to stop it. He likes to think, that he is a good boyfriend. He adores you. But worship? Revering you? No, thank you. He likes to be close to you. Likes to hold you. Likes to play fight with you. He likes the quiet moments, and the screams. But some days, he hates you as well. He knows that. It´s nothing, that he can change. He could never worship you. You and him are too human for that. Just mortals. Just people. But that is what he loves most about you. Being human.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He had forgotten, when he had started to follow you around. Has it been a week, a month? Maybe it had been summer back then, he muses, as snow melts on his gloves. He doesn´t remember the first moment, he saw you. But he does remember, that he always recognized you. No matter how much time had passed. He always felt like he knew you. Maybe he did. He wouldn´t know. He has forgotten so many things, that were supposed to be important. A low growl escapes him, as you entertain another idiot. No matter how often he cleans up, there always more of them vying for your attention. Seems like tonight will be busy for him again. He wonders if you would like to hear all the stories, he collected while watching over you. Though, they might be a bit bloody for your taste. He clicks his tongue, a low whistle following, as his eyes follow you again. Maybe one day, he will make sure, that no one else can get your attention except him.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

He watches your every move carefully. Afraid, that he accidentally hurt you again. He knows, that he feels pain different than you do. He knows, that you deal with some things differently than he does. He knows all of that. So, he watches you. He sees it, when your eyes go glassy. When your facial expressions start to dull. He sees it. He knows something is wrong, when you lean in close to him. Sighing almost wistfully, as you intertwine your hands. You never done that before. He tries to break you out of this mood. Maybe you need something new to entertain you? Maybe some fresh air? It´s not like he adores you like this too, but he worries over you. When your spark does not return to you, he gives up. Instead, he simply leans closer to you, holds your hand like he always wanted to, and tells you of his day. You don´t flinch, and he doesn´t mind.

[tordenvejr]

two sides to the coin of shame, one self-rejection, two external rejection. in self rejection we abandon ourselves and in external rejection we are ostracized. in both cases the self is denied the right to exist. our body is denied its right to take up space, our mind is denied its right to rest, and our true feelings are shunned. historically being rejected has meant being cast out, and being cast out has meant death. that is what your nervous system experiences in the state of shame. in the state of shame there is no allowance for life, and to the subconsciously this is translated as dying. your body is not just scared of being rejected, it is scared that it will die. when we're operating from this very primal state of survival there is no capacity for the nuances or layers to shame, all we know is that 'we do not deserve to live'. we cannot move on, we cannot grow, we cannot escape. you must either set external shame aside for a moment and look internally, or you must face the fear of being ostracized so that you can venture to the center of your shame. here you may find other people, you may find yourself, but you will find distortion. the strongest weapon against shame is honesty, honesty is what we speak with naturally when we know and trust that we will be met with compassion - and you must meet yourself with compassion. honesty is clarity and illumination, whereas shame is a shadow that grows the more it is denied the light of being accepted and seen. as thick, oily and poisonous as it may feel; shame cannot be rejected into change, or killed. the core fear of shame are those very things, you must look at what the part of you that is ashamed desires. wholeness, acceptance, belonging. you have to let the part of you that experienced, heard, said, did, didn't, was, wasn't, live. when we are met with acceptance and compassion, we can overcome, grow or change

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 30 - "Are you with me?"

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

A/N: I had absolutely no idea what to do with this one… and it shows I think… also can this be considered crackish?

"Danny you ready?"

"Give me a second Red!"

"No time! Going live in…"

"Wait wait wait!"

"3..."

"I got the popcorn!"

"2…"

"What about the block against the Justice League?!"

"1…"

"Red locked them out of the system. Now get ready!!"

"Go!"

Danny blinked as he got pushed by Superboy in front of the camera Impulse was standing behind. Behind them was Wonder Girl giving him a thumbs up with one hand and holding up giant flash cards with her other one.

"Uh Hi?"

Impulse raised an eyebrow and moved his hand in a keep going motion. Nervously Danny rubbed his neck. He looked left and right as if looking for something until his eyes focused back onto the camera. He coughed, took a deep breath, unnecessary in phantom form but helpful to calm down, before smiling and touching his hands together at their fingertips.

"Ahem. Hello, hi. Now you might be wondering. Who the fuck is that guy to interrupt my Saturday night movie program. I am Phantom, the newest member of Young Justice. King of the Ghost Zone also known as the Infinite Realms. The Dimension that's pretty much gluing our entire reality together." He gave the camera a nervous smile before he continued. "I am here to tell you on behalf of the entirety of the Infinite Realms. That you humans, of this dimension…"

Danny took a deep breath, from the corner of his eyes he saw Superboy giving another keep going sign while Red Robin was checking something on his laptop, making sure none of their mentors was trying to cut short their live feat over the entire world as well as that the subtitles worked for different language countries.

"...well you humans suck." Danny said as he breathed out, closing his eyes and pausing for a moment to let his message sink in. "Look, I get it. It's always hard finding something new, seeing change but come on. Anti-Ecto Acts? Was that necessary?"

He waved his hand around like he was thinking to find the right words while peaking at the flash card Wonder Girl was holding up.

"Like come on, can't you humans get your act together? Why hunt down an entire species just because they are different? You humans are already constantly at war with each other, aside from the idiocy of that, do you really have to add interdimensional war to that list?"

Danny chuckled nervously ignoring the additional flash card Impulse was now holding up to make him call out some of the humans' crimes against, the list mostly containing petty things Impulse didn't like. "Just so you know. I am barely keeping my council from declaring the dimensional one by the way." He added instead.

"Now you all are probably wondering what the hell this random ghost hero is talking about with no solution." He glanced to the side. " Well I have one."

Danny coughed into his hand and right his stance. "Dogs."

He held out his arms and Cujo appeared out of nowhere jumping into them. Off camera Wonder Girl coed. His ghost puppy had pretty much charmed all his hero friends since day one.

"They are loyal, awesome, cute and every beings best friend. Ancients even Superman has one!" Danny said smiling as he held up Cujo into the camera, he was glad he had remembered to infuse Red Robin's equipment with ectoplasm so the broadcast wouldn't get distorted.

"It's something we can all agree on. So, are you with me? Let's discard these stupid acts and all focus on the cuteness of little beings like him? How could anyone want to destroy his entire existence!"

"SHIT!" Red Robin cursed loudly off Camera and Danny blinked head turning towards his direction. "B got our location! Oracle ratted us out and is about to shut down the broadcast!"

"What this soon?! We didn't even get to the juicy parts yet!" Impulse complained loudly and Danny nervously faced the camera.

"Uh… Yea so.. No Anti-Ecto Acts and pro Dogs!" He summed up liften a encouraging fist up as Cujo barked happily in his arms.

"ETA 2! We need to bolt!" Red Robin shouted as Wonder Girl Rushed across the camera to open the window on the other side. Superboy was already picking up Red Robin and Impulse was gone before Red had even finished his sentence.

Phantom gave the camera one nervous smile as Cujo jumped out of his arms. "For the record. This broadcast was brought to you by sleep deprived Red and our opinion that the Justice League is taking too long!"

The next second phantom was seen rushing off to the side most likely following the others a moment later a crash was heard in the distance before the camera tilted and fell to the side. The broadcast was cut off at that point.

Unknown to the audience, a group of young hero's was rushing away from there not so secret broadcasting location, trying to escape their mentors that were not happy about their kids trying to take matters into their own hands just because 'the adults are taking to long'.