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moon7jay · 1 year ago

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Forced To Take Him (PART 2)

🫴Read Part 1 here

Warnings : stepcest, mentions of the word rape, manipulation, non con, dub con, spit play? Ig that's all idk

Note : IT'S NON CONSENSUAL, consider it dead dove do not eat. and if u chose to read even after all the warnings, I'm not responsible.

"f-fuck take it like a good girl, take it all baby shit-" his voice cuts off in a whine when he feels you gag around his length, your throat feels raw and abused and you aren't sure if you'll be able to talk once this is over. He's so rough with his animalistic thrusts in your mouth, his palms planted firmly at the back of your head, fucking into your throat like it's a cunt. A wet, messy cunt for the purpose of getting fucked.

His eyes are on yours, his lust filled expression making bile rise in your throat. But at the same time there's a tingling in between your legs, your body working against you

"fuck u like this, u like this don't you, u little sexy slut" he pants, smiling down at you sinisterly, his tongue comes out to lick on his plump lower lip, his brows furrow as he once again gets lost in the pleasure of your throat

There's saliva leaking out of your mouth, drool mixed with his precum, you can taste it . Taste how messy all this is gonna get.

"fuck u, fuck u for making me like this ughmmmm- drive me crazy, wanna fuck all the time oh yeahmmmhm" he moans loudly. Fear strikes your heart, acutely aware that your sister is just a little distance away, watching TV on the couch and a single kitchen counter is what hides your body from her vision. If she were to look over, she would only see sunghoon and not how he's busy using your throat mercilessly.

But sunghoon doesn't care. Ever since the first day he raped you, he had only gotten braver, more worry free and fearless.

He started fucking you more frequently. almost anywhere he felt like he would pull your shorts down and bury is cock in your snatch in a single thrust, pounding like an animal.

He would come into your room at nights, whispering filthy promises in your ear while his hips snapped into your womb with the intention to breed.

He had also stopped giving your sister the sleeping pills, and you could feel it in your heart that he wasn't scared of your sister catching u anymore. and your fear became reality when during one night of brutal fucking, his fingers dug into your jiggling fleshy thighs and he groaned into your ears the words which made your insides turn cold.

"wanna tie your sister up right beside ur bed and make her watch how I rape you baby- his teeth dug into ur cheeks as u sobbed - wanna make her see what real fucking looks like. THIS. This is what fucking is all about. Tight fucking pussy god fuck"

A sharp thrust inside your throat made you come back to the present, he held your head in place, going deeper and lodging his dick further inside your fluttering throat. Your nose meshed up against his pubic hairs, his groans getting louder

"fuck yeah" he laughed, at the height of his insanity, snapping his hips again, making u choke on this thick length, gagging sounds like music to his ears

"look so pretty like this, gonna fuck u right on this kitchen floor baby, gonna make u scream so your sister knows exactly how u drool around my dick in ur pussy like a filthy little -Fuckughhh- little slut"

Your finger nails dug in his thighs, your oxygen supply getting cut off due to his rough movements but u could feel that he was close, his taste getting stronger on your tongue

"fuck fuck fuck squeeze my balls, make me fucking cum , wanna cum so much, fuck-yeahh" he thrust rapidly at an animalistic pace, his head thrown back in pleasure as you played with his balls just like he asked for. You had learned how to obey, having seen how bad things could get when he was angry.

"swallow-holy fuck-take it all you fucking whore, take my seed" he groaned from above you, snapping his hips deep into your throat and holding your head against his pubes, cumming inside your mouth, his taste flooding up your senses. you swallowed instantly, afraid of disappointing him, squeezing his balls more to drain him of every last drop of his fuck cream, making him curse

He pulled his dick out of your drooling mouth with a pop. Before you could catch a breath he was dropping down on his knees and burying his tongue in your mouth.

one thing your sister's boyfriend loved more than fucking u was tongue fucking your mouth. you don't know what his obsession was with your tongue but he loved sucking on it while he made u suck on his own tongue. Just plain messy, open mouthed kisses, making out with your tongue for hours.

His wet muscle tangled with yours, licking into your mouth with vigor, wanting to catch any after taste of his cum that u just swallowed. His hands grabbed you by ur thighs and the next thing you know he was dragging them from under your body so that your sitting form fell down on the kitchen floor, your head hitting a little hard at the wood but sunghoon didn't care. He never cared if you got hurt.

He was instantly pulling back, tearing your panties apart, pocketing the shredded fabric to jerk off with later and he was burying his cock inside, breaching your entrance in one harsh penetrative thrust. A gasp escaped your throat while he groaned in pleasure and satisfaction. Finally being wrapped in your wet pussy folds.

Your pussy was sore from how rough he had taken u in the morning and he was so big, you felt an excruciating pain at your entrance, tears rolling down your eyes involuntarily. He started snapping his hips into yours without waiting for you to adjust, gasping in pleasure, folding your body in half, grinding your sexes together

"does it hurt? fucking tell me that it hurts-fuck"

It did. but u didn't want to give him the satisfaction of getting off to your pain. You knew he was a sick bastard who got off when u were hurting. Your tears turned him on.

"so so fucking wet, sucking my dick in your tight little fuck hole, I bet u want that fuck cream inside you so bad huh baby?" he spat upon feeling your nails dig into his neck, your pussy was so wet, your body's natural reaction making you cry more. Maybe it was your fault, maybe u did want this. Maybe he was right.

"Feels so good baby, cunt milking me so fucking good yeahmmugh jesus fuck"

his thrusts became rapid, carnal lust taking over his body, going deeper, harder. You closed your eyes to avoid seeing how much pleasure he was getting from using your body like this. The cold kitchen floor digging into your back, making you more aware of what was happening to you. You were crying and screaming in full force now, unable to hide how much pain he was putting you through, but also unable to hide how much pleasure he was giving you. Your hips were chasing his own, your lower region getting hotter and hotter, you could feel your high approaching. Please God no, no, you can't cum on this monster's cock.

He laughed when he felt your pussy clench around his dick

"fuck yeah u want this, u wanna fuck with me, u wanna breed with me, come on, let's cum together yeah? let's fuck some more" He panted, his eyes shining in a sick want, you tried to look away but his hand held your face in place, fingers digging into ur cheeks, his gaze fucking into your soul, his pleasure filled expression making the knot in your belly snap, your eyes rolling back at the same time his eyes rolled back, your cum mixing with his pearly white seed flooding inside your womb, profanities and "fuck yeah" s falling from his mouth, his teeth digging into your cheek, hips fucking into u relentlessly, intensifying the squelching sounds your grinding sexses were making.

You tried pushing him away, his thrusts now making your insides hurt but he didn't stop, panting like an animal, wrapping your legs around his waist while he resumed his thrusts, his dick still hard inside of you. Hot and hard and so cruel.

His fingers dug into your waist, his tongue coming out to lick your neck, upto your chin to your nose, sliding sideways to dip inside your ear making you whine in overstimulation.

"t-too much" u gasped out, your nails scratching his back in hopes that he would slow down, the pain mixed with pleasure starting to get to your head.

"yeah? good, gonna fuck a baby into u baby, gonna fuck ur warm little cunt till u start bleeding" he whispered, intruding your mouth with his tongue, his hips getting harsher, his dick head hitting your cervix head on, even going past it at some point with how much it hurt.

You were starting to lose your vision, so lost in the overwhelming feelings to take note of how eerily quiet the house had become. How the skin slapping sounds and your groans and moans were all that could be heard now. You could not hear the TV anymore.

Your head lolled to the side and your eyes met your sister's. Relief washed over you. She was here to save u, she was finally gonna save you, u were gonna be free, you were-

"she isn't gonna stop me sweetheart, she's gonna watch us fuck like the pervert that she is, she's gonna watch me rape your tight little cunt" sunghoon whispered in your ear and something ugly reared it's head inside your chest. You were begging with your eyes. He was wrong, wasn't he? But why was she not stopping him? Why wasn't she saying something??

your eyes travelled down and a cold shiver ran down your spine.

Your sister's hand was buried inside her shorts while she watched how sunghoon fucked u. He was panting and groaning like a wounded animal, his spit flying everywhere as his thrusts became sloppier, your heart felt numb and so did your mind. You could not comprehend the scene that was playing out in front of you. your sister's excited eyes were fixated on your and sunghoon's grinding bodies, how u writhed under him, how he was shaking in pleasure. Her hand's movements inside her shorts getting faster in tune with sunghoon's thrusts

That look. You knew that look. You had seen that look countless times throughout your childhood but u were a naive little girl who didn't know any better.

You were 13 when your mom had married lana's dad. It had been a happy marriage, never once did u feel unaccepted or unwanted by your step sister, she always kept u close to her, always took u with her when she went to play, always shared her toys with you.

But there were more things she liked to share with u. like kisses.

You were innocent, never understanding the meaning behind her lingering touches and kisses. You both were just kids after all. And even though it felt uncomfortable at times, you didn't want to ruin ur relationship with your new sister. You wanted to be good. And siblings kissed all the time didn't they? it was just a way to express affection to each other

But as time went by, her affection towards u became unhinged. She was overprotective over u in an almost obsessive way.

U didn't notice it at that time, u never did. U never noticed how she would insist on sharing clothes and baths and how excited she would become when u let her borrow your lip balm. or how angry she became the first time u mentioned a crush.

How one day u came home crying to her because everyone in school was talking about how ur mother was a whore and u also carried some STDs, unaware of the fact that lana was the one who started those rumors, an effort to keep u isolated and dependent on her.

at your 17th birthday, your sister bought u a dress matching with hers and even tho u insisted that u didn't want to change in front of her, she made u eventually

"We're both girls y/n, I change in front of you all the time, why can't u?"

and so u did. Missing the way your sister's breath became heavy with each article of clothing that u took off.

At first she used to watch, just watch. until you both were well into adulthood. Turning 19, she eventually started touching.

"You're so beautiful y/n" she whispered while caressing your naked waist. You smiled awkwardly, putting ur top on instantly, feeling uneasy at the look lana was giving you. But u brushed it off, u shouldn't have.

u brushed off a lot of things, like when your sister took u to clubbing one night and as the crowd increased on the dance floor, you could feel her body press closer to yours, her hips subtly rubbing against u.

or how when u leaned closer to whisper in her ear that you were getting out to get some fresh air, your sister buried her nose into your hairs, inhaling your scent unbeknownst to ur naive self.

You had been your sister's deepest obsession ever since you walked into her life years ago. But u were too blind to see that.

"so close gonna cum so much for u, gonna fucking breed u full holy shit, you're gonna make me cum so hard baby " sunghoon's groans reached a fever pitch, the squelching sounds of your groins meeting filling up the kitchen, you couldn't take your eyes off of lana or how her eyes rolled back in pleasure when sunghoon moaned his impending orgasm

"yeah yeah fuck yeah feels so good, god fucking godughh " He panted, flooding your womb with his cum, your second orgasm washing over u as u watched your step sister bite her lower lip and cum all over her fingers. Sunghoon's cock helping u ride urs and his high, pleasurable sighs filling the space

your senses were overwhelmed, your eyes shutting on their own, feeling guilty with how much you came but at the same time, a sick pleasure ignited inside of you.

You felt a soft caress against your cheek and without opening your eyes you could tell that it was lana. you leaned into her touch, a deep yearning flooding your chest. sobs escaping your trembling lips as she cooed and kissed your tears away

"Shh baby I'm here, I love you, I love you so much y/n" she whispered and ur sobs got louder. You could hear sunghoon's laughter in the background, his body had left yours at some point.

"she's pretty when she cries isn't she? kiss her baby, wanna see u making out with the little slut" he spoke from somewhere.

You refused to open your eyes, not wanting to face your sister's want and the glaring reality that it was her all along.

It wasn't sunghoon who wanted u, it was her.

She wanted to break u through sunghoon and now she had. You didn't think u could leave even if you wanted to.

A tongue slithered inside your mouth and ur sister groaned upon tasting you. Tangling your tongues together, you felt her hand groping your chest, moaning into ur mouth at feeling your body

"u're mine, u have always been mine" you heard her whisper before u sinked into unconsciousness. your body shutting down and mind choosing to disassociate from the glaring reality.

you always knew your step sister loved u in a way that was different from how your friends' sisters loved them. you always knew that lana loved you too much.

loved u so much that it was lethal

#part 2 finally???#enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard headcanons #enhypen smut #enhypen #enha #park sunghoon #sunghoon smut

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anonymous-dentist · 11 months ago

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Or: Prince Roier Hires a Faerie to Help With His Divorce (he hasn't gotten married yet)

For day two of @smallchaoscryptid's Spiderbit Week - Fae/Kiss

Once upon a time...

Roier picks his way through the foliage with a grimace. His feet hurt, twigs keep smacking into his face, bugs keep flying into his mouth. This sucks, but it'll all be worth it.

Thunder rolls above, and rain starts pouring down without a second's warning.

...It'll all be worth it.

He's due back at the castle by morning, but, honestly, he'd kinda rather die than go back. If the wolves eat him, so be it!

Grumbling, he pulls his hood up over his head, and he continues onward. If he freezes to death out here, so be it!

He's not planning on going back to the castle alive, anyway.

Legend has it that, deep in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla, there lives a man-eating witch capable of tearing a man's soul from his body before he can so much as breathe in her general direction. Nobody knows this witch's name, but everybody knows that she's totally fucked up: if she isn't eating people, she's eating bears, and her magic is said to be as destructive as the eruption that created the universe.

Roier needs to meet her now.

So he continues trudging through the woods. The lantern in his hand is fighting to stay lit, and his boots are filled with enough water to drown a rat with, but he's fine. He's going to die miserable, but he's fine.

There's a flash of lightning bright enough to blind him, and then there's a crash of thunder loud enough to make him jump and nearly drop his lantern. When his vision returns, the tree in front of him is toppled to the side, leaving only a charred and smoking stump behind.

And then there's the cat.

Roier, frankly, stares. Because... what?

It's a cute cat, at least: brown with black stripes almost like a tiger's and blue eyes so bright that they almost seem to glow in the night. It sits on the stump with its tail curled around its paws, very polite, 10/10 cat.

Hesitantly, Roier approaches. He holds the lantern up to the cat, tilts his head, smiles.

"You're so cute," he coos, bending down to pet the cat between its little ears. "What are you doing out here, eh?"

The cat yawns, and then it huffs, "I could ask you the same question."

Roier screams and recoils and drops his lantern. It goes out, but the forest doesn't grow any dimmer because the cat is fucking glowing now, okay. Okay!

The cat rolls its eyes, tail twitching. "Okay, ouch. I'm not that scary."

"You're a talking cat," Roier breathes. "What the fuck?"

"What, you were expecting the witch?"

A pause.

Then:

"Oh, come on!"

Roier finally collects himself, brushing the water off of his cloak and adjusting his hood and picking up his lantern.

The cat stands and starts pacing the stump in a small, annoyed circle.

"The witch isn't even real," it complains. "She never was! Witches aren't real!"

Roier frowns. "Fuck you, man, my best friend is a witch."

"They aren't. Witches aren't real. Magicians are real, but witches-"

"You are literally a talking cat."

"I am a faerie," the cat corrects, sounding almost pained as it does so. "Faeries are real. Witches are fake. It's all anti-faerie propaganda created by the Federation-"

"By the what?"

The cat flicks his tail at Roier; Roier's mouth shuts, and, to his alarm, he finds that he can't open it again no matter how hard he tries.

The cat angrily swipes a leaf off of the stump. Unfortunately, it is really cute as it does so.

But then it starts complaining again, and Roier decides that this annoying fucking faerie cat isn't that cute after all.

"I haven't eaten anybody in centuries!" the cat shouts. "Fucking Cucurucho..."

Roier's eyes widen.

He waves at the cat until the cat does its magic thing again and allows him to talk.

First, Roier sucks in a deep breath through his mouth. That was uncomfortable.

Then, he says, "I know Cucurucho. I'm supposed to marry him in three days."

The cat's eyes narrow. Its shadow beneath it seems to grow; it tinges itself red like a pool of water with blood in it, wow. That's almost cool.

"That's why I'm here," Roier explains. "I need the witch to kill me so I don't have to marry him."

The cat sits.

"I see," it says. "Unfortunately, the witch isn't real."

"Suuuure, but you are." Roier sneaks closer. "Can't you just-" He opens his hands and wiggles his fingers. "-magic me dead?"

The cat stares at Roier's fingers. "Um. No. Faeries can't kill."

Roier deflates. "Ugh."

With a frustrated groan, he sits on the stump next to the cat. The cat grumbles, but it doesn't, like, magic him onto the ground, so that's kinda nice of it.

"But," the cat says, slowly as if questioning itself as it speaks, "I can get you to kill for me."

Oh. Now there's a thought. But...

Roier looks to the side at the cat. "I've tried. I'm pretty sure he's immortal, man."

"You haven't tried killing him with faerie magic. Now, come here."

The cat hops off of the stump and pads into the forest. After a moment, Roier follows.

They walk until they reach a hollowed-out tree. Then, the cat hops into the tree and mutters to itself as it looks for something.

Eventually, the cat pokes its head out of the tree with an opaque brown bottle held in its mouth.

Roier takes the bottle and turns it over in his hands.

"This," the cat says, "is extract of unicorn. Mix this in with Cucurucho's food, and he'll be dead by the end of the night."

Roier's mouth twitches. It'll happen, just like that? Just like that? Decades of oppression over just. Like. That?

"Okaaayyy," Roier drawls. He looks back up at the cat with a small smile. "Thank you."

The cat responds by clambering out of the tree and lounging on a branch hanging by Roier's face.

"No, thank you," the cat insists. "You'll be doing us both a favor if you manage to kill that asshole."

"If this kills him, you'll be a hero."

"Oh, I'm no hero. I'm just..." (The cat grins with far too many teeth in its mouth.) "...an invested party."

Well, the cat is probably evil. But that's fine. So is Cucurucho, and two wrongs make a right, right?

Well, wrong! Because Cucurucho isn't fucking dead.

Roier stomps back to the tree stump with the faerie's empty unicorn piss whatever bottle in hand. He doesn't have a lantern this time because, frankly, he really isn't intent on returning to the castle this time. If he trips over a root and dies, so be it!

The cat is nowhere to be seen. Of course, the bastard.

"Gatinho!" Roier calls. He cups both hands around his mouth and spins in a circle and continues shouting, "Gatinho! Where the fuck are you! Come here!"

No response.

Frustrated, Roier chucks the bottle to the ground and plops onto the stump. He puts his head in his hands and groans.

"I am going to fucking die," he moans. "I can't go home, I need to die, what the fuck."

A twig snaps. A presence ghosts over his shoulder, what feels like fingers grazing his tunic. But, when he snaps his head up and turns around, all he sees is the cat sitting behind him.

Roier's eyes narrow. "You."

"Me," the cat agrees. "Did it work? Is he dead? Please tell me he's dead. He's dead, right?"

"No! He isn't! He thought that unicorn shit was edible glitter! Now he wants it at the wedding!"

The cat blinks. "Huh."

"Yeah, 'huh'." Roier huffs and turns back around and hides his face again. "Fuck you, man. You said it would kill him."

"It should've. He's a demon, right?"

"How should I know? He's a fucking bear wizard thing."

"Okay, again, wizards aren't real, magicians are. But you're marrying him, right? How do you not know what species he is?"

"It's not like I'm getting a choice in the matter," Roier spits. He glares into the palms of his hands, shoulders shaking with barely-concealed rage. "Either I marry him or he destroys the kingdom."

There's a pregnant pause as the cat takes this information in. Fair, honestly. Roier hadn't exactly told him that he's a prince. Wasn't important, still isn't important. Doesn't matter if he's a prince if he's being sold off to marry a goddamn bear like he's a common animal.

It's for the good of the kingdom, Foolish had said. He and Vegetta have always liked Cucurucho despite Cucurucho being a legendary fucking creep. It's either you or Leo.

And Roier isn't the one that's meant to take the throne after his parents die.

"Can't you just kill me?" Roier asks. He waves a hand in a random direction. "Just make a tree fall on me or something. It'll be an accident, it's fine, your faerie cops won't know."

"Um, no," the cat says. "That's fucked up."

"Don't you eat people? How the fuck do you eat people without killing them?"

"Who says I killed them before eating them?"

Ah. Sounds about right.

...Kinda cool, to be honest. Imagining a tiny little kitty cat rip a grown dude apart like he's a slice of bread. Almost funny in a way.

Roier jumps as something brushes the hair out of his face.

He jerks his head upright and glares down at the cat, now sitting delicately in front of him.

"I have an idea," the cat tells him. "Follow me."

As they walk back to the hollow tree, the cat asks, "Does Cucurucho still have that freaky mechanical sword?"

Roier thinks. "Maybe? I don't know, he kinda just sits and stares at people. Sometimes he chases the servants around with a sword? Dunno if it's mechanical, though..."

"Well, any sword will work. Hold on."

The cat leaps into the tree and comes out with a new bottle, this one clear.

Roier takes the bottle and swishes it around. The liquid inside looks like oil, okay...

"This is dragon's blood," the cat explains. "It's corrosive to the touch, so be careful. Tell him that it's a special polish for his sword. It should eat his skin to the bone and kill him dead."

"Huh," Roier says, suddenly much more careful with the bottle. He gently slides it into his pocket, makes sure it's secure between a bag of coins and his headband. "Okay. Cool."

"This should work," the cat says. "But I'll try and think of something else for if it doesn't."

"Yeah, well, it'd better work," Roier huffs. "I'm getting married in two days. Then the gods only know what he's gonna do with me."

"Trust me, we'll figure it out."

"Trust you? Aren't you some kind of evil faerie cat?"

The cat looks offended. "Excuse you, I'm barely evil anymore. All I do is read these days. Do you know how many books I have at my house? More than Cucurucho, that's for sure."

"You have a house?"

The cat visibly bristles. "Of course I have a house. What, do you think I'm homeless?"

"You are a cat."

"Not all the time!"

Oh, that's interesting. Roier can almost imagine what the cat looks like in a human form, but the idea escapes him at the last second.

"Whatever," Roier sighs. "Just kill me tomorrow if this doesn't work."

Roier doesn't even bother shouting as he storms up to the stump.

He sits, pulls his cloak off, tosses it to his feet, kicks it away. What the fuck!!

He doesn't so much as blink as the cat appears by his side.

"It didn't work?" the cat cries. "Really? That should've worked!"

"Yeah, well, it didn't," Roier huffs. "He wore gloves today. And Cucurucho figured out that I've been sneaking out to see someone at night, so he told my parents that we're going to move to a different castle out in the middle of nowhere. I bet he's going to lock me up, the piece of shit."

The cat's ears lay back on its head. Its eyes narrow, and its lip curls back in a clear snarl.

"I know," Roier agrees. "Fuck this guy for real."

"Fuck him."

"Fuck him!"

Roier smiles just for a second, and he even manages a brief laugh before remembering, right. He's fucking doomed. Right.

Sighing, he slumps to the side until he's tumbling off of the stump and splayed across the ground. He buries his face in the grass and screams.

To his credit, he hardly jumps as a hand firmly settles on his back and rubs it. Small circles, firm hand, big hand, it feels like, wow.

Something- a knee?- presses against Roier's arm firmly. It's grounding in a way. Almost.

"I'm getting married tomorrow," Roier whines. "Just kill me, gatinho. I promise I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to kill you, guapito," the cat says. (Roier blushes. Guapito...) Its voice sounds deeper, almost. Louder. More clear. "I can't."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Marry Cucurucho?"

"I won't let that happen."

"Why? Because you want to kill him? Because that hasn't exactly been working so far."

"Because it's super fucked up that he's forcing you to marry him. I don't give a shit about the kingdom, I don't live there. I want him dead, but I'm starting to think that he's unkillable."

The hand moves from Roier's back up to his head. Fingers sift through his hair. Woooow, that feels good. When's the last time Roier got touched this softly? Before Cucurucho arrived?

"I've been thinking," the cat continues. "I've been keeping an eye on Cucurucho for centuries, but he's never tried destroying the kingdom before now. Before you. I think that, if you're gone, then he might leave, too."

Roier cracks an eye open. He doesn't shift his head at all, so he can only just barely make out a hint of cloth. So the cat has clothes when he's a human, that's cool, Roier guesses. Makes him wonder where they came from.

"So... kill me," Roier tells him. "If it'll get him to leave the kingdom alone, kill me."

"I can't do that."

"I'm not next in line for the throne! It's fine! Just push me into the river, I can't swim."

"You can't swim? Really?"

"Well, I can, but I can pretend that I can't!"

"You are so... selfless," the cat says, sounding completely exasperated. "And stupid. No, come with me. I know how we can solve this without killing you."

The hand leaves Roier's head, and then a cold nose is poking at his cheek until he's sitting up and looking the cat right in its little kitty eyes.

"Do you still have cat eyes when you're in another form?" Roier can't help but ask. "That would be really cool."

The cat chuckles. "Maybe. Come on. I have one last thing we can try."

They go to the hollow tree, and Roier waits as the cat scrambles into the tree and surfaces with a necklace clutched in its teeth.

Roier takes the necklace and inspects it. It's a solid gold chain with a little charm that looks like a cat's head. Cute.

"What, is this evil faerie gold that will melt Cucurucho's skin off?" Roier asks.

"No, it's for you," the cat replies. "Wear it tomorrow. When the wedding reaches the climax, take the necklace off and break it."

Roier points at the cat accusingly. "You are going to kill me!"

The cat rolls its eyes. "I'm not. Just... trust me."

Trust the man-eating faerie cat, sure. Right.

Roier sighs, but he puts the necklace on, anyway. It's surprisingly warm around his neck.

The cat almost seems to smile. "You look lovely."

"This thing is going to explode and blow my head off."

"No, you'll see."

And, well. What choice does Roier have but to wait and see?

The final wedding preparations go by in an uncomfortable blur.

Leo comes in to hug Roier goodbye. She then punches Roier in the stomach and tells him to write to her once he's at his new house.

Jaiden comes in to help Roier finish getting ready. She's happy about the marriage because she really thinks that Cucurucho is a good person, and Roier can't help but be happy that she's happy.

Foolish comes in to walk Roierto the church. He and Vegetta each take one of Roier's arms, and they walk.

And then Cucurucho is waiting at the church in front of the altar in an all-white suit. His fur is meticulously brushed, his claws are polished, his smile is painted on, he's absolutely grotesque.

Roier hates him.

"Good morning," Cucurucho says as Roier settles in front of the altar.

"It's sunset, you fucking idiot," Roier snaps. He can say what he wants now, right? He's going to die, anyway. The cat is going to kill him.

Cucurucho laughs, and then the ceremony starts.

Roier tunes out most of the goings-on if only to keep himself from breaking down and breaking the necklace before it's time. The cat said to wait until the climax, so Roier's going to wait for the goddamn climax.

He comes back to himself as the cleric asks if anybody in the audience has any objections to the marriage.

This sounds like a fucking climax if Roier's ever heard one.

"Yes," he says. "I object!"

He tears the necklace from around his neck and throws it to the floor. Before anybody can stop him, he slams his heel into the charm.

The entire church erupts into screams as a blinding white light fills it. Magic tears at Roier's skin, biting and pulling. He squeezes his eyes shut, anticipating the end of it all.

But:

"I also object," the cat says.

Two large hands settle on Roier's upper arms, and he's pulled back and against a firm chest.

Roier tilts his head back- not too far, because the cat's human form is shorter than he is, funnily enough- and his eyes widen as he takes in the most beautiful man in the world. Long hair the same color as the cat's coat, scarred face, feathery earrings, cat eyes.

"No," Curucucho snaps. "No!"

"Yes!" the cat- well, not the cat, Roier supposes- shouts. "The prince is mine! He swore himself to me the moment he accepted that necklace, and so he will go back with me to the Faewild and become my husband. You know the rules, bear."

Leo, in the audience, cheers. So does Foolish, who always appreciates a good show.

"Gatinho," Roier hisses.

The faerie shrugs his concerns off. Roier is annoyed about this for exactly three seconds before he gets caught up in the faerie's eyes.

Could be a worse arranged marriage, that's for sure...

A long moment passes, but Cucurucho eventually says a begrudging, "Yes."

"So," the faerie continues, "you will not destroy the kingdom for this. If the prince has already been promised to somebody else, then he never rejected you."

"Yes," Cucurucho sighs.

"You're hot when you're arguing," Roier whispers.

The faerie's cheeks redden, as do the tips of his pointed ears. Cute!

Yeah, no, this arranged marriage will be way better than the last one.

"So!" The faerie turns Roier around so that they're looking at each other properly for the first time eye-to-eye. "You will be coming with me."

"Yeah, okay," Roier agrees. Hell yeah. "Take me, gatinho."

"'Take me'?" Foolish gasps. "Ooooo, this is getting spicy!"

"All you need to do is say my name," the faerie says.

He leans in close and whispers right into Roier's ear, and Roier returns the favor... with a couple of flirtatious remarks thrown in for good measure. Sue him, he's about to get married to a sexy faerie. He's going to make the most of the situation.

"Cellbit," Roier murmurs, and something tickles at his skin. Something... purple. It feels purple. Soft and purple.

"Roier," the faerie replies. He looks positively flustered, aww. He's going to be so fun to tease once they're out of the church.

As the Faewild's magic starts to pick up, Roier can't help but give the faerie a grateful kiss.

The faerie blinks away from the kiss after a moment of some very eager lip-chasing. His face is completely red, and his eyes are wide and unblinking even as the magic around them whips like the wind.

"There's more where that comes from," Roier teases. He puts his arms around the faerie and smiles. "You're marrying me, get used to it. That's just part of the deal."

Because faeries are all about deals, right? Well, Roier's the best deal this guys is ever gonna get.

The faerie swallows, an eager grin teasing at his face.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Alright."

He pulls Roier's head down for another kiss just as the Faewild swallows them whole.

(Legends say that there are monsters living in the haunted forest surrounding the Kingdom of Quesadilla. Once monster is a man-spider with glowing red eyes and fangs the length of one's sword. The other is a furry snarling beast of a thing with magic worthy of the most powerful of witches.

Ah, but don't worry, my child, for these monsters don't hunt humans.

No, they hunt bears, and isn't that a good thing for us?)

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#i really like this one too!! i love fairy tales!#spiderbit #guapoduo #it's cheesy but that's fine

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softmangoes · 2 months ago

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First, I just wanna say, I adore your writing. From your word choice to the way you convey every emotion, it is nothing short of stunning.

I binged all of your writing, and I was so thrilled to find your DoL fics!!!! If you’re feeling inspired, I’d love to see your take on the LIs reacting to the PC becoming a Fallen Angel, especially if the PC fell for them (like, letting them take the PC’s purity).

In game, it feels kind of tragic falling, especially when doing the quest for the spear, but on the other hand, the whole, who needs a God’s love when I have you is a special type of romantic that I really love.

I hope you have a wonderful holiday season if you celebrate! If not, I hope you’re having a wonderful winter in general!!!

hi hello!! thank you for all your kind words and i'm so glad you liked my dol fics!! 💛

the graciousness of your message has filled my well of inspiration, so here you go and i hope you also enjoy this 🥭

"why me?" pure!sydney says between breaths, between kisses that only make you both yearn for more. your skin is hot against his, while the wall of the library's private study room is cold against his back. he knows he shouldn't be doing this, that the temple would strip him of his status, and that your embrace marks the end of something he's been building all his life.

so why him? you are a holy thing, after all. untainted. pure.

and yet, as you grind against his length, the slickness of you irrestible now that his cage lies beside him in fragments, he finds no trace of regret within him - only reverence, only devotion. only the urge to take your breast in his mouth and to finally slip his length inside you, savoring the warm wetness that anoints him with the miracle of your consummation and the sound of your song.

"because it's me," he murmurs, his hips finding the pace that makes you shudder. after all, why can't a study room be a holy place? who says the bruises from his lips can't count as praise? when he feels you tighten around him, your feathers smoldering as your voice cracks in pleasure, he has his answer. "because," he gasps, reverence threatening to spill. "there's no one better to worship you."

"all saints die," corrupt!sydney murmurs, breath hot between your thighs. his fingers are digging into your hips. the marble altar is cold against your back. you both know you aren't supposed to be here, but there is a thrill in the forbidden.

he dips his tongue into your warmth, the sensation of his veneration smoldering even moreso than the feathers charring on your back. "what is this, but another apotheosis?" he muses, pulling his midnight hair into a ponytail. "another transformation?"

you feel thrilled at the comparison, knowing how you have both changed each other.

a dark force churns within you, tight and coiling. you recognize it as hunger, as the lust you have denied yourself so long in the face of virtue. but what use is virtue, when it can be easily cleaved by the warmth of a hot tongue? when the eyes that behold you in worship reflect the same golden light that used to grace your skin every day? as if sensing your hunger, sydney slips his fingers inside you, filling you. your hips sway into his touch, wanting more. wanting to burn together.

you shake in whitney's embrace, whimpering at the pain, the burning, the visions of the world cracking open and corruption spilling through like so many hungry tentacles reaching to engulf the light. and yet, you would do it all over again to feel his breath, his skin, his desire for you all for the first time.

"hey," he says, scooping cold water onto your tender back. it does little against the fire you feel in every feather, the taint eating away at each filament. "stay with me." there's a tinge of panic in his insistence. you aren't quite sure whether it's real or a hallucination. although he is your former tormentor, this is a kind of pain he is unfamiliar with, yet committed by his hand all the same.

your eyes dull. whitney adjusts his weight, water sloshing in the bath. he jostles you, willing you to stay conscious. whatever the fuck is going on with you, you can't leave him. you can't go before he knows how to help you.

before the darkness takes you, the last thing you hear is him telling you he is sorry.

there are tears in kylar's eyes. "it hurts?" he says, daring to touch your half-singed feathers. you nod, straining to unfurl them to reveal the slow fire eating away at the soft ivory. your halo is cracked, bleeding inky corruption that sizzles upon contact with the air. "it's because we...." his voice shakes, the guilt lancing through the pleasure of your skin just moments ago. "we..."

how dare his selfishness cause your agony. if only he could unmake a moment, exercise even a minute of restraint. perhaps then, you wouldn't be in this pain. his fingernails dig into his palm, teeth sinking into his lips as tears stream down his face freely.

but your mouth covers his, your soft tongue lapping at the blood beading on his lips. your kiss, so gentle, feels nothing like lament. only the delicate grace of forgiveness.

"you're beautiful," eden says, mouth hot against the hollow of your neck. when he first saw you, wings unfurled in the light of the clearing, he thought that you were some kind of strange bird. right as he leveled his shotgun to take aim, he remembered you turning to face him, a look of surprise gracing your features as you beheld the man who would have been your end.

it was a while before he first touched you. your skin burned. the air in the cabin would ripple from your heat. even the bars of the cage threatened to warp. in the cold of the winter, your rage radiated at your confinement, a prized bird trapped in crude metal.

the hunter knew that he was not worth your beauty. your very presence made the shadows of his past all the more darker. you were an angel, a being of pure light, and all he wanted to do was take your warmth for his.

then one day, like a miracle, you came for him. he had collapsed into the cabin, his body stiffened by the cold. hair cracking with ice. he had fallen into the lake while fishing, the ice sheet far thinner than what he originally estimated. he looked at you, glowing in the dark of the cabin, teeth chattering as he unlocked the cage with his hand outstretched.

"go," he rasped as the door swayed open. "it won't be long until -"

warmth spread across his body the moment your mouth pressed against his. you tasted like honey, like sunlight, like every summer he never thought he would live to see. to his surprise, he found you breathless, lips at his neck, telling him to take you.

"why?" he asks, voice hoarse. his fingers run through your hair. because he fell, you tell him, and it was only right that you would as well.

"something's burning," robin says, fear tinging his desire. "is it you? we can stop -"

you silence him with a kiss, tongue tasting his lust for you. your feathers are charring, your halo cracking. before this, you had both talked about the consequences of what would happen. once you were intertwined, there would be no going back. the both of you would be burned into each other's lives forever.

besides, this moment feels less like falling and more like flying: robin's warm eyes on you, his soft mouth parted in pleasure, each sway of his hips bringing you both closer to sweet oblivion. all you can do is card your fingers through his hair as he whimpers against you, sending you both soaring into the heights of a new heaven.

"the moon waxes and wanes," the wraith says, tentacles tracing the darkness of your once brilliant wings. one of them prods at the shards of your halo, corruption leaking from its fragments. you wince, the pain sharp despite the gentleness of the abomination's touch. "and even when it bleeds, it is beautiful."

tendrils, thick and strong, knead along your shoulder blades right where your wings protract from your back. this earns a sigh of relief from you - one that he drinks eagerly with his cold mouth.

"flight must make you ache," he says, his voice nothing less than a sonorous purr. "i may be able to assist."

with his lower pair of hands, the wraith lifts you against the walls of the ruin. he slips inside you with ease, your fingers grasping the silver threads of his hair as you take him. his countless tendrils suckle and writhe against your skin, drawing sounds that echo into the darkness of the ruin. the wraith is a force, a wave of pleasure that does nothing else but pull you further and further into its depths.

after all, you chose to sacrifice the love of a god for the heart of a monster. what else can he do, except devour you?

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity fic #dol fic #sydney the faithful #sydney the fallen #whitney the bully #kylar the loner #robin the orphan #eden the hunter #ivory wraith #this is honestly great to hear because i was in such a bad writing slump that had me like man!! what am i doing #but it's always so nice to hear that people enjoy what i write :')#this is a lot longer than what my headcanon fics tend to be but the deliciousness of this prompt truly cannot be denied #i hope your winter season has been going well too!! thank you so much for stopping by!! 🥭#my writing #mango asks #divider by cafekitsune

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

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Genuine question: what's the point of writing fanfic? As in, what's the purpose? No one in the fandom I'm in comments on fics and I even got told off by one person for doing so, as it "encourages bad writers and makes them think they're good". So it seems that it's a lot like book writing, where people work hard and are creative, but instead of getting paid and getting comments on the work, you just sit there silently hoping someone will press the kudos button and make a number go up. I feel like that time and work could be better spent on making something you might get some kind of profit off of. Don't get me wrong, I love doodling fanart, but I don't post it, as I'm aware that there's no point to doing so, and while it's a nice way to fill the time on a commute, it's not something that takes me as much time and effort as fanfic does. So... why do people bother? Sometimes I describe ideas I have and people I know in my fandom will tell me I should write it, but I don't see why. I get more interaction from just saying "imagine if [thing here]" than I would by sitting down, writing for hours, editing and posting [thing here], so what would the point be? I'm not punching down or going "haha women and their fanfic lol!", I genuinely do not get what the point is and this blog feels like it might have someone reading who knows the answer.

Do you make art for profit? Genuine question.

There's nothing inherently wrong with being motivated primarily by external factors, but it's not actually why a lot of people create things, whether it's books or recipes or doodles in a notepad.

I enjoy the actual process of writing.

I think many people lose sight of that aspect in an era where tons of <500-word fics that are mostly outlines and "Imagine if..." posts get disproportionate attention for being easy to consume. But the satisfaction of doing a bigger art piece and doing it right is real and motivates a hell of a lot of creation.

I suppose you might be thinking "Okay, but why not just write it alone and never post?", but I like sharing. Showing off my finished creation is part of the joy, and sharing with other people like me is too. But those aren't quite the same thing as worrying about kudos. It's like dressing nicely when you leave the house because you feel great when you know you look good vs. needing another person to tell you you look good.

To be honest, though, this type of feeling has grown in me the better I've gotten at a craft. The closer my finished projects get to the vision in my head, the easier it is to find them fulfilling and to be excited to share them. When I fall short of my own ambitions, it's discouraging no matter how much attention I might get from others.

I feel like it's time for my regular reblog of Adam Westbrook's video essay series The Long Game.

vimeo

youtube

The third and least known in the series is all about this idea of who you're making art for if you're not getting material rewards in the short term. It talks a lot about autotelicity—being internally driven instead of externally.

But if you really just want clicks, anon, start a blog that accepts anon asks and posts about wanky stuff. Actually tag things, unlike me, so people can find you.

No, writing for attention isn't worth it.

The time investment is too great and your brain will always fixate on the times people didn't respond instead of the times they did.

But that's not actually why most people write.

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kbagraces · 2 months ago

Text

No Time to Die LN4

Lando Norris Mafia/Gang AU

As much as we try to suppress the stigma, strong women will continue to be perceived as intimidating until you learn to love us.

PART 4 Reflections

My vision and hearing was in and out the whole journey to Lando's hide out flat in London. My body was slumped across the back seats of his car, my head resting in Mandi's lap, her delicately moving hair out of the concerning gash on my head and then holding her jacket back on the wound. I felt like i was under water, i could hear talking from the front of the car but not words. Mandi didnt utter a sentence.

I felt the car stop and i was lifted out of the car. The cold midnight air stung, i could finally make out what they were saying, Mandi demanding, "Careful. Careful. Would you be careful!"

That means that Lando was carrying me, another thing he can hold over my head. Brilliant.

"I am being fucking careful." His voice rattled against my body. I wanted to snap, no one talks to my best friend like that. But once again it came out as a groan and a huff.

I was lowered down, i'm unsure whether its a bed or a sofa, but its soft as hell either way. My bpdy is drifting off again, im either passing out or falling asleep but this time i dont care to fight it.

I wake up alone, the sun peaking through the blind. A duvet drapped over the bottom half of my body. I'm in the most baggy joggers and an even baggier t shirt. I'm sure these aren't clothes myself or Mandi packed.

My head stinging, i raise my hand to touch my injury, jagged stitches across where the gaping wound once was. The amateur skills screamed that it was the work of Mandi, having stitched up a few of my wounds in her time, but at the end of the day shes not a professional

I lift myself out of the bed, another vampire like room in front of me dark walls dark furniture is this man allergic to colour?

Walking, or more like waddling, out of the room i attempt to gain some balance. I walk down the hall to the kitchen gasping for water.

I turn around glass in hand to spot Lando's body stretched out over to sofa, legs hanging off the end. He's on his phone scrawling through whatever nonsense is on there.

"Morning." I announce, theres no way he didnt hear me come in.

"Morning, how's my favourite liability!" He attempts to joke, looking up from his phone. His eyes taking in my obvious dishevelled appearance and body clad in what i've deduced to be his clothes.

"I'm going to pray that it wasnt you that dressed me in your clothes?"

He grins, a huff coming from his nose as he sits up , eaning foreward, elbows on knees. "I should be so lucky."

"Excuse me?"

He ignores my question, "Mandi both bathed and dressed you, i just left the clothes on my bed. Your shit was in my car and i couldnt be bothered to get them."

I hummed in response, sitting down at the island. My fingers rotating over the top of the glass, feeling slightly awkward due to his eyes not once leaving me.

"Where is Mandi?"

"Her and Nat went to service the car, get her filled up, tires changed... cleaned."

Odd how it wasn't him and Nat, odd that Mandi also thought it was a good idea to leave me here, shes up to something.

"How long will they be? I want my clothes."

"They'll be back soon."

"You've got a real starring problem you know that." I feel uncomfortable being so judged? Admired? I cant tell which.

"So ive been told."

"Good to know you make all women uncomfortable and its not solely reserved for me."

He gets up from his seat, now leaning opposite me across the island in the kitchen. His irritating, signature smirk painted on his mouth.

"I make you uncomfortable?" His mouth now feigns a mocking pout, "Do i make you nervous too?"

I scoff, unfolding my arms, imitating his stance and leaning across the table, a few inches between our faces and hands nearly touching, "no one makes me nervous."

There was a thick tension in the air, neither of us willing to move. There was a twinge in his eyes, ones that usually are blank with zero emotion are now twinkling with what i assume is resentment mixed with a little bit of lust.

"Morning!!" Natalie beams in her usually sunny voice. Honestly, how someone so doom and gloom as Lando made such good friends with such a ray of sunshine ill never know.

Lando's body stands tall and rigid once hes aware of their presence. Neither of us sure how long they'd been there. His eyes blank once again, although certainly embarrassed that he was caught off guard.

I catch a glance between him and Natalie before he shakes his head.

"Nice outfit." Mandi cackles, mockery laced in her tone.

Lando, serious as ever claps his hands together, "now we have the car can we all get ready and get this shit show on the road. You have 10 minutes meet back here and we'll get a plan together."

Natalie and Mandi leave to what i assume are their individual rooms. I head over to the front door retrivbeing my bag which mandi brought in.

"I won" i said as i brushed past Lando.

I'll have no man try and intimidate me or even worse believe they have a hold over me!

We all enter the kitchen once more. Taking a seat around this cursed table.

"So we have ordered a plane from Dover straight to Barcelona, there one of my drivers will take us to a safe house to sort who's going where and doing what." His eyes scan us, ensuring that were listening. Lingering on me before continuing.

"Nat, you're driving to Dover. I am going to tap into Ferrari and Keegans data to see what their plans are they seem like they are biggest threats as of right now. Mandi, you can sit there and look pretty and y/n you can attempt to do that too." He laughs at his own joke, a little too hard. Asshole.

We all head to the front door, Mandi grabs my arm pulling me back to walk at her pace.

"You know you can cut the sexual tension with a knife between you two" Her eyebrows quivering up and down suggestively.

"Are you kidding?"

"Not at all, youve got the big bad Lando Norris wrapped around your little finger. Turn on the y/n charm, I beg of you! Make this trip interesting."

"As if running away from your brother who took over of you old gang isnt interesting." She can't be serious right now. Surely?

We hang back at the front door, out of earshot as they load upo the car.

"Come on he fancies you, you fancies him, why don-"

I raise my hand to her face in rejcetion, covering up her mouth.

"Firstly, shut the fuck up. Secondly i do not fancy him."

"You so do"

"Do fucking not."

She rolls her eyes "okay okay you don't."

We make our way to the car, Nat revving it in impatience. As Mandi opens her door, she whispers, but loud enough for me to hear,

"You so do."

#lando norris #f1 #ln4 #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris mafia au #lando norris gang au

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npookie0 · 3 months ago

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GAAAAH I LOVED IT ITS SO SO GOOD EEEEE

perhaps,,,,ronin x (transmasc or gender neutral, not very important) MC who is just,,,,really fucked up. Not exactly in the same way ronin is, though he probably would like gore n stuff, but mostly he’s just incredibly depressed in a way that manifests in a very skewed sense of what love and affection is (for example, ronin threatening to kill him would be like the most romantic thing to him) -mothgutzz

The Devil's fucked up Darling.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Tw!!!

Depression

Gore

Our fav toxic lover <3

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

You are someone who suffers from depression, your mind has always been place full of destructive thoughts.

You hardly ever leave your home, choosing to stay inside rather than face the world. Although the only time you ever left your sanctuary was during the night, when danger was much more apparent.

You loved the adrenaline that took over your body when there was a possibility that you would be murdered, that you wouldn't return unscathed and the same. It made you feel something more than the regular exhaustion and gender dysphoria.

Maybe that was the reason behind you feeling so excited about joining the server full of serial killers? There was this whisper in your ear "if they find out, you're dead" and it made your whole body shiver in excitement.

Especially the thought of Ronin being the one to send your head into oblivion.

His words were so beautifully threatening. The promise of having your body turned into a bloody massacre? Oh how amazing the idea felt.

"So what, will you show me a body, or will I show your body to the server?" Ronin's voice left your speakers and you had to stop the smile from creeping onto your lips.

You can't show him just how crazy you truly are.

"Would you really kill me?" You asked in an innocent voice. Ronin laughed in answer, his laughter loud and sick.

"You would be the next gory mess to stain the devil's den, darlin'." He whispered, his words were like a love confession. Like some twisted declaration of his never ending affection.

You shared a lot of conversations like these, sometimes you could actually feel like Ronin caught up on how his threats make you feel and he goes further with them Explaining in more explicit details how he would cut you open and break your bones. It created an artistic vision in your head.

"Oh, you would be such a pretty dead boy Y/N. A little piece of art under my knives." He smirked. His words alone made your whole boil, imagining your blood staining Ronin while he cuts you open. That was a dream come true.

"If I am to die one day, I want you to be the one to take my last breath." You said, his eyes widening in an amused surprise.

"Oh, baby. I hope that you aren't just saying these things to pique my interest, because I may do just that." You knew that Ronin probably thought that you were bluffing, but you were ready to run into his knife to prove him just how truthful your words are.

"Let's meet up Ronin. It's almost Valentine's day, and we're just fooling around. If you're real about killing me, then say it to my face." You proposing a meeting? Outside of your house? Wow, Ronin really made you crazy for him if you were ready to get out of your bed just for him.

His sweetly psychopathic laugh filled your ears, making you shiver and crave for more.

"You think that I won't hang out with ya? Alright then. Purgatory, today." With that he hung up.

Your heart beat was loud and fast. You were going to meet up with him, hear those sweet and dangerous words in person. Life couldn't get more beautiful than that.

You arrived at the devil's den, the alley feared by many. You waited for Ronin, leaning against a wall and smiling at the gore that was splattered across the whole alley.

The smell of rotting flesh was like an aphrodisiac, making you feel somehow aroused and even more excited about this meeting.

"Hah, you're even more sick than I thought. Smiling at the dead. What a cute crazy bastard you are." Ronin said, standing in front of you with his crowbar at his side.

"Speak of the Devil." You smiled at him. "Are you really going to kill me?" You asked, your cheeks burning up when you looked down at his weapon.

"Oh I will, but not today. Maybe when you'll beg me so nicely to end your misery, maybe then I will." He whispered against your ear. "I'm here to steal something else from you darling." His face was only a few centimeters away from yours, and you felt his warm breath on your skin.

"What will you steal from me?" You asked, voice shaky from all the excitement.

"Nothing big, just this." He replied.

His mouth arrived at your mouth, connecting them in a raw kiss. You were wrapped around each other, trying to get your bodies even closer than humanly possible.

Oh, how sweet the Devil's kiss was, almost as sweet as his threats.

#killer chat #killer chat ronin #fanfic #asks #transmasc reader

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starlightsuffered · 8 months ago

Text

Monster under the Bed

Info - CNC, monster Timothée, skull fuck, Dom Timmy, oral (male receiving), dark Timothée, supernatural

I'd been up so many nights lately, tossing and turning and unable to sleep. I wished dearly that I knew what it was that felt like it lingered on the edge of my vision.

It wasn't as if this was a new house. I'd moved into the dimly lit apartment three years ago. I'd never felt the presence I felt now.

All I could figure was that I was just feeling a bit off because l'd been on holiday. I'd saved up to visit Europe just like l'd always dreamed. I'd hit up Ireland, Italy, and France. It had been a whirlwind adventure.

Only one thing had been missing. I hadn't had any sort of one night stand or romance. I'd hoped for a couple day fling. Ravaging one another in a foreign hotel room, ordering room service because we wanted to spend every moment we could wringing pleasure from one another.

I'd tried with many a handsome fellow, but it didn't work. In fact, when I began to talk they almost seemed scared. Sure I was American, but that didn't mean I was holding bombs on myself.

I would see a man, and smile. He'd saunter over to me. I would place my hand on his chest or cup his jaw. He would open his mouth and say his name in a delicious accent. Then, it would be my turn. I would open my mouth and whoever I was holding would go pale. They would back away as I uttered my name. Unrecognisable emotion would always fill their eyes. They'd go stumbling away as if I'd screamed at them.

When I got home, I expected to be able to relax. I couldn't. I felt like I was being watched. I attributed it to having been around so many people, and now being alone. However, the feeling was lasting days.

I felt nervous all the time. It seemed like there was something or someone lingering on the edge of my vision.

Whenever I turned, nothing was there. Things were just as they were supposed to be. I couldn't figure out why my skin prickled so badly when I was alone in my house.

I sighed and laid my head down. My eyes were too heavy to keep reading fanfiction. I had desperately hoped that the fluff would make me feel better. I still felt extremely uncomfortable.

I tried to slow the pounding of my heart. I heard a scuffling and I shot up. I looked around warily. I didn't see anything out of order. My head was playing tricks on me surely.

"Just stop y/n, you're being paranoid," I sighed. I flopped down onto the bed.

"Are you?" Came a dark voice. My eyes sprung open. Inches from my face was the most horribly lovely creature I'd ever seen. Something about him was other worldly even if he did appear to be human shaped.

My heart was skipping beats as the feral thing drooled saliva down onto my face. Warmth pooled in my core and I didn't know why or how that was happening. The breath of the monster washed over me. To my surprise it didn't smell rank or putrid. It smelled like expensive wine and cologne and a warm crackling fire.

Suddenly, I was too hot to stay still. I was prickling all over. I wanted to move or to blink away the being in front of me.

"Y-you've been in my house," | gulped.

"Clever girl," he said. His neck cracked as he turned his head to the side.

"Pretty girl," he hissed. His hand caressed my cheek. His skin was cold even though he radiated heat.

"What are you?"

"Oh?" He chuckled. "Not who? What?"

"I-I can tell you aren't real. I don't even know if this is real," I said shakily.

"Oh darling, this is terribly real," he said with mock sympathy. My heart was pounding so harshly it almost hurt.

Blood roared in my ears. My heaving bosom pressed against the lean chest of the beast.

"You let something in when you came baaaaack," he said in an alarming sing song voice.

"What?" I breathed.

"Something dark," he giggled madly. "Something wild, and fierce and immortal."

"Oh," I gasped as his long body pressed against mine.

"I am the madness on the fringes of your mind. I am the devil on your shoulder. I am the nightmare that won't let you go. I am the monster under your bed, and now pretty girl," he cooed and blew air along my neck. "I want IN the bed."

He harshly grabbed my jaw. The creature was beautiful as an evil smile unfurled over his face. He rammed two fingers inside my mouth. I dutifully sucked them.

I was scared but I was excited. I didn't know who this Angel of death was. I didn't know why I wanted him. All I knew was this felt right in the most wrong way.

I felt like Eve taking that first bite of the apple. A terrible pleasure I shouldn't know about overtook my body. I realised he was completely nude.

"How could I resist?" He asked me. "Such a pretty little thing that sleeps so soundly. I watch you, you know."

"You do?" I asked, feeling tears prick my eyes. I didn't know what to feel. I was overwhelmed.

"I can't stop now," he purred.

His hard cock dangled over my mouth. He pried my lips open. He forced his dick into my wet warmth. I whined around the length.

"Such a pure girl aren't you? You don't want this," he teased me.

He grabbed either side of my face. He was ramming his cock into my skull. I was gagging and drooling. He wouldn't stop even if I choked, I could see it in his eyes.

"Don't lie to yourself. You wanted this every moment of that vacation. I clung to you even then. You couldn't make your dreams come true, so I made a nightmare of lust bring me to life."

He sounded wild. He was hammering into my mouth. The way he used me like a doll, had come to me of all people, had chased off every other man, turned me on. I felt naughty and desired.

I arched into his crotch. His long finger tangled in my hair. He was yanking my head up to give himself pleasure.

My throat was being stuffed full of dick.

"You like it!" he hissed over and over. He was grunting and moaning like an animal in heat.

My eyes were full of tears as I tried to take what he pushed deep in my mouth. Spittle coated my chin, I reached up shakily to grasp his bicep. I held him tight to let him know. I needed him to know I didn't resent him. I was thankful for this dark gift of pleasure. I needed to be used and treated like this. I had needed it for longer than I even knew.

"I'm going to fucking poison you with my cum. It will crawl through your veins and infect your body. You'll never feel the same again, and never crave anyone else the same way," he told me. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm going to spill my hot seed down your throat,"he groaned. He was rutting into my mouth. He let out a roar and ropes of cum were flooding my insides. I dutifully gulped down what he provided me.

"Good girl," he sighed and caressed a thumb down the front of my throat.

I didn't remember falling asleep. I didn't remember the man leaving. When I woke up I nearly thought the whole thing had been a dream. However, that feeling of a dark entity was gone. I no longer felt the fear and paranoia.

Instead I felt this deep longing, an ache in my gut. I didn't know which one was worse.

#reader insert #timothee chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee chamalet #x reader #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet smut #timothee chalamet smut #timothee smut #smut #fluff #timothee fluff

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libraford · 8 months ago

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An approximate conversation of what's going on in the comments section in the post about our city's pride event. Copy-pasted and summarized instead of screencapped because I don't feel like blocking out names today.

Guy: This is the second post I've seen about gay pride this month and NOTHING about Alzheimer's Month or Men's Mental Health Awareness month! Way to go- ignoring the REAL issues.

Me: If you would like to have more initiatives for those causes, there are some forms you can fill out on the City's website. The city made this post because the pride event is on their list of scheduled events, so it makes sense for them to post it.

Guy: So the city planned Pride? That's what I was asking but it seemed to have gone over your precious little head.

Me: As stated in the city's post, it was the efforts of a local nonprofit. You can advocate for your causes as well, but you do have to fill out the proper paperwork for it.

Guy: So the city isn't planning it, but they're promoting it?? Are you that thick in the head? If the city doesn't want to recognize real issues they aren't involved in why would they cherry pick another? Like I said my original comment flew right over your head

Me: have you proposed any events for either of those causes to know for certain that they've been denied involvement?

Guy: Funny you ask yes I've been part of a for non profit organization here that had booths and events even a banner hanging across state st like many others have but yet never a mention. wonder why?

Me: well, that's quite a lot of things! You should be very proud! It seems very important to you that you be recognized and I respect that. Have you asked them for social media posts? I'm trying think of ways to make your vision happen.

(Crosstalk with other people in the thread)

Guy: Nobody is phobic/ scared. love how you guys make up things. There always has been and always will be people that don't like what others do. Guess what? That's called life grow up get over yourself and stop searching for validation because nobody owes you anything.

Me: Well? You don't have to come to pride if you don't want to. I would just avoid that intersection for the afternoon on the 22nd. It's up to you, though.

Guy: I don't need to avoid anything. It's public property and nobody is scared. I'm sorry or has a phobia

Me: Okay then! I hope you enjoy all the community services that will be vending at the event!

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liveyun · 2 years ago

Text

m i d n i g h t s | kth (m)

p a i r i n g. taehyung x female reader

g e n r e. friends to lovers + smut + fluff + angst

w. (M) plot? no plot? don't know? smoking + alcohol, mentions of parent death + parent negligency, mentions of abuse , corny stupid jokes + dom!taehyung, kissing, grinding, taehyung and his tongue and taeconda oof , so much of licking + consent because that's the most important thing + don't @ at me for the ending

w c. 5.5k +

m l i s t .

“ Seriously, Taehyung? ”

“ Hm? ”

You narrow your eyes as you watch the half naked man fiddle with his phone, almost looking like he's pretty drunk, but you know it's all for the camera.

“ People you know, call it thirst trap snaps. . ” The shit eating grin on his face is back, and you can't really help but scoff at the smirking man infront of you.

“ In this lighting, I fear your audience would be even able to make out the difference between your hair and the surroundings, for the sake of god. . ” You tap in the cigarette trapped between your pointer and your middle finger, the smoke is gentle and calm: making its way to higher altitudes.

“ That's what it is. When you can barely figure out anything, there's the real fun. ”

“ Aren't you a big time sadist? ” This isn't a question, almost as if you're teasing him. When he speaks next, you feel that stupid smirk on his face,

“ No shit. ”

There as along, it was. You inhale slowly the stick of tobacco within your grasp, and even if you feel your throat burn dry, you can't help it.

It felt relaxing. The dull throb in your head stops pounding slowly as you retreat back to lean on the headboard, watching the man infront of you again fiddle with his phone in his hands. At times you feel like laughing to see how even his phone feels to be tiny when in grasp within his huge ass palms, and sometimes you can't help but wonder…what if.

Anyway.

“ Who're your target audience, by the way? ” Curiosity gets the best of you and you know you're speaking the words even before you know you're speaking, and you internally feel like smacking yourself for asking such a silly question. You do know that Taehyung has a good following base on his socials, one that he's that fucking famous as that when you know that millions of people watch his Instagram stories within a flash of second.

The man only smirks. He runs his tongue on the seam of his bottom lips, slightly running his fingers through his hair. And suddenly, your vision drops down to his grey sweatpants, which is hanging dangerously low on his waist, showing you more skin than you can handle, a very deadly sharp glance of his vline. The smooth and bulked plains of his toned stomach and the tanned, golden skin.

Fuck him.

“ Do you want to ask if I'm secretly a pornstar or some sort of shit? ”

“ You're calling porn shit? ”

No sardonic reply comes back, except that he only turns at you, tonguing his inner cheek and a nearly unreadable expression on his face, holding his snifter within the rim and strides over to the stool nearest to the dresser and your the king sized bed, and takes a seat. Sandalwood and vanilla with a hint of ginger. The scent is so him, so him in a way that even if at times the scent alone ghosts you and you definitely feel like you hallucinate, because it's just so alluring, but also comforting in a way you can't just. . .explain. A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

“ ’m not so qualified to do so, please. ”

“ ’s not ’bout you being qualified, shithead. ”

“ hm, who knows. maybe I do post quality content on my only fans page. . ”

You can only roll your eyes as a response, dragging another shot of the burning smoke in your lungs, and he laughs, filling his glass with the malt whisky on the dresser, and helps himself with a few icecubes.

“ Yeah, good for them. ”

Silence, a comfortable silence blankets over the room; but you don't fail to notice his lips quirking ever so slightly up at your lame remark.

Evenings like this with your best friend are rare; both being responsible adults you've all never nearly got to enjoy the time after school, which is supposed to be enjoyable, they said. Though you're satisfied with what you do and aren't complaining, the thing which stings you is just to know that you and your friend have been drifting apart in the course of time.

Just sitting in silence, healing.

You can only watch his features, partially visible from the lamp light falling in the half of his profile, leaving the chin and mouth in shadow. His focus is set on his glass and the drink. The drink, though alcoholic, is so dark that you can barely make out anything as he lifts the glass to his lips and the sound of the icecubes crinkle the surface of the glass is all what you hear, and oh. The light, oily amber swirls even confirms the nature of the drink, dark.

For a moment it hits you that this evening has been a bit too silent for how it usually is.

You both have the mutual share of the silence which passes whenever you two meet up. There's nothing in your way : just you two, his drinks and your cigar, and you two basking in eachother’s company. No comments, no words. The thick silence is what you both glow in, silently comforting eachother’s soul with silently shared words. No words are really necessary, it's just your presence which makes everything, complete, whole, if that makes sense.

The silence isn't uncomfortable now, though. Just as if an ounce of you feels as if maybe it just you who's thinking this way, but your doubts are solidified when you see a muscle near his left eye, twitch slightly, and in the same time you see his tongue poking his inner cheek.

Something is wrong, you easily can say. The air in the room feels disturbed, and you mentally argue if you should be asking any of it to him. He knows and you do too, that whatever happens, his shit, your shit, your shit, his shit.

From wild teenagers failing together at maths class and laughing your asses off, to those same teenagers who left home in the ghosts of the nights with hands in hands and wide toothy grins, to adults graduating in different majors, moving in different directions to feel the weight of your wings come to action. Life has taken rowdy turns and upturns, like a wave, but with his hand in yours and his presence with you, it has been going on. Even if time has passed, hopefully, there haven't been cracks in between your relationship and his.

Your fingers itch to reach out to his messy bangs falling over his forehead and brush them off, but rather your fingers reach to your own glass of whisky, and you take a sip. You don't really know how many times you've forbidden yourself for your heart to yearn for him, to desire him. A part of you doesn't understand why are you doing this, and another part of you understands that you're doing it for a reason; for why he's too precious to let go.

“ You want to say something. ” You're rather surprised that it's Taehyung who's speaking about this, even if his focus still is stoic on his drink, head dunk down but however, his eyes are now on your glass clad hands. His shoulders hunch down slightly, almost as if he's itching to..hold you, too?

“ What's wrong, Tae? ” your eyes never leave his figure, and as soon as the question leaves your lips, he sighs.

“ Guess we both know eachother too well, eh? ” He tries to lighten off the mood for a while, but it won't work with you. Putting down your cigar and drink on the dresser, you reach forward to hold his shoulders firmly, and give a shake.

“ No, Tae. Let me know what's eating you. ”

Another sigh. This time, it feels like he's leaning onto your touch, closing his eyes. The faint smell of alcohol still roams within, but you do know that both of you don't really have that little resistance to alcohol. You don't rush anymore; you let him think and carry out his words slowly and steadily. His shoulders fall even more, and this time his exhale is shaky.

“ My father passed away a week ago. ”

Oh.

Though you yourself grew up in your foster house and weren't particularly close to your either alcoholic parents, who either were always drowned in alcohol, or when not, to insult you in every way possible. But about Taehyung, he was the eldest child of his parents, and though if the relationship with his parents was strained, you know Taehyung loves his parents, for why he always got back to Daegu atleast once a year, even after both of you ran away from your homes. He cares for his younger siblings, and you'd guess he wasn't particularly close to his father. Even as a child, he used to be the one sitting alone in a corner, with a pout on his face and red nose evident that he sobbed, each time during the event of father's day celebrated in the local farmhouse.

That's when you found him, and hit off instantly as his friend.

And since then, he rarely opens up about his father.

He finally looks up at you, a pained expression settled on his face.

“ I swear I didn't mean to hide anything from you. . ” your name falls from his lips as a silent apology, eyebrows pinched together. “ It's just. . ”

Before he can finish, you're pulling him close to your chest, wrapping your arms around his cold figure. He leans in, and melts completely in your arms, shaking slightly. You feel that pain in your chest blooming slowly in.

“ Fuck, ___. I don't even know who the hell am I becoming nowadays? We weren't close, not even close to that. He just drowned in his own world of becoming the superior, while my mother worked hard to raise all of us up. He thought, that just the money is enough for the upbringing of a family, and became the most distant he could be, from us. .”

“. .I don't even know, I didn't even see his face in years, but shit, why do I miss him this much? Almost as if. . ”

Taehyung, as he grew up, turned exactly what opposite of what he used to be. From a giggly, shy but bubbly boy who'd share his heart out after he has throughly warmed himself up with you (not that you were complaining, you always had enjoyed him beside you, you loved hearing him out. . .) and now, he barely spoke anything which can be considered as to be shared. You dont blame him; life happened and you love your Taehyung as ever your best friend he was, and forever will be. He never needs to explain himself to you. As ever, the moments of silence is all what tugs you to the realm of comfort in the silent winds, sailing in with the warm gushes of warmth.

“ It's alright, Tae. . ” you slowly stroke his hair and his back in sooting motions, cuddling him close to your chest. Smoke and vanilla.

You felt his figure shake and tremble, and soon, you felt the wetness seeping down on your collarbone, and his chest heaved heavily for breaths to catch.

You understand what Taehyung means. Having a parent in your life but still feeling their existence to be non existent, maybe you knew this part too well. Taehyung yearned for that missing love, now impossible to reach, but you hope that he knows it might linger around, right with him.

You hope.

Moments linger off like that, the slow jazz music softly playing in the background as Taehyung cries his heart off to you,sobbing. Holding you so tight that you almost feel breathless. It's rare to see him cry, for you always have felt that he's the one who feels reaching out to feelings difficult, for how he's gonna have the unhealthy habits as his companions to cope up with the empty cracks of his life. Or maybe you, who'd understand him like a puzzle’s respective part.

Maybe if the human nature wasn't that rigid outside, you can only imagine. Had been his father too, proud of his son? Had he too been happy to see Taehyung?

You can only imagine. The happiness Taehyung would've felt if his father would've spent a bit more time with him. The possibility of maybe. . .

After what long, heartfelt moments, you feel him pulling away. Though, he doesn't shoot you off completely: the scent of mild sandalwood and vanilla still lingers around you, and he just pulls out of your chest, to find his flushed face and red nose, shiny cheeks damp with tears which you reach out to gently wipe off. His strong, masculine scent lingers by within. Your heart clenches at the sight, to see him so heartbroken with his messy and fluffy hair sticking to his forehead, all sweaty and eyes nearly swollen and red. He can only sniff, and that's when you feel a large, sweaty palm of his cup your own face, gently.

A soft expression is written on his face, a one which you cannot quite decipher yourself. It's maybe not the first time being so close to him, but each time you get a chance, a sight, he never fails to take your breath away.

“ Thank you….” He weakly mutters, and you nod, once to let him know it's fine, always.

He's so insanely handsome, so unfairly beautiful, the bridge of his nose to his monolidded, warm brown eyes, to his thick eyebrows, to his plush lips, and chiseled face, you never miss even a freckle on his nose which, when you had first met, instantly booped at causing the young Taehyung 's eyes to wide and cheeks go a shade of rose.

So you still do, remembering all the times you've seen him laugh, the contagious hearty laugh with that box like smile and warm hugs he engulfs you in. You lightly flick on his mole, and you don't miss the way his face lights up, the familiar box like toothy grin returning to his face.

Adorable.

He's so adorable, so much, that it almost makes you squirm in your sheets. His eyes never leave your own ones, and you swear you feel him boring holes in your soul. Eye contact with him hasn't been hard, but particularly at moments like these, you don't know what creeps up and you feel breathless, your stupid heart picks up the pace, and you again feel like squirming in your sheets, because, damn this fucking man!

The urge to kiss this handsome man keeps on roaming around your head, at some point, maybe always. . just a rudimentary thought, no, but at this point you can't help but get a urge to taste those pink, damp lips which are tempting you. .

You might as well drop a bomb to your heart (oh no.) that you've been in love with this stupidly handsome guy, always denying of the inevitable truth. The longer you were away from him, you felt your sanity being snatched away with the smell of the faint smell of sandalwood and vanilla, and your head began spinning. Nights of imagining yourself,you're too guilty to even admit, but guess what. . .maybe the longing for this man has went to such a high altitude, that despite knowing it, you cannot admit it out loud. What the fuck, and how the fuck are you even supposed to?

those desparate nights, when you saw yourself beneath him, writhing with pleasure, that dammned shit eating grin omnipresent on that face as he pleasures you, whispering—

“ What's going inside that pretty head of yours? ” And there you see it. His lips are curled to that fucking smirk, which makes you feel like he knows everything which goes inside your head, and he knows that he has you fucking wrapped around his fingers and you're crazy for him.

So what. But you really and seriously cannot deny the way heat creeps up to your neck and cheeks, and the urge to look at anywhere but him is delightful. The wall looks pretty, because you can't look at hi—

“ Answer with words, dear. ” His hands cup your cheeks again, making you look at him. His eyes..are soft, but at the same time so smug that you again feel like snatching and throwing away that pompous vibes from them. You snort, and he smirks.

“ If you don't tell me, would it be mutual? ” You nearly scoff, hating the way you still find him adorable, another lazy smile stretched on his handsome face. ( read : stupid ).

“ Do I make you say it out loud, my dear? ”

Fuck.

It was undeniable, the way you felt your stomach churn with fluttering butterflies. You absolutely don't wish to find the meaning of what actually he means, but for some reasons or other, your blush deepens and you feel a small smile of your own afloat even without you realising that.

“ You're way too handsome. ” Oh no. There it will be again, with that cocky grin and that motherfucking smirk which would make you pounce on him. For sure, he was very much aware of his godly looks, and you knew he won't shut up on this, when you subconsciously utter out those dammned praises. You shouldn't absolutely have done that.

Instead, what you didn't expect in the least is, his smile. Not the cocky, complacent smirk, but an almost soft smile. Almost as if he's happy to hear the words coming out of you. And to worsen that, you feel his hands now gently reach the scalp behind your ears, messaging the skin with those nimble fingers, the smile still plastered on his face.

It sort of shocked you, but it also didn't. Because when you see his eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes, almost dragging them from within at it, you feel like you'd stop breathing this instant.

And this isn't the last time he does it; his gaze keeps on roaming from your lips to your eyes, almost as if he's asking you for permission, and you really try your way hardest to not look at his own lips. You try, but fail.

“ Can I kiss you,dear? ” He asks you, his eyes holding yours, and you visibly gulp. The fluttering in your tummy won't cease..and you feel anything but your heart pounding in your chest, so loud, that it almost makes you question, can he hear it too?

The question which you've resisted to urge for years, the feeling which you've denied for years. He's right infront of you, looking just so adorable and kissable that you almost want to give in. Denial has been grave of your heart, but now enough of it. Why not, because this life is short, and now that.. it already happened, you say fuck it, and nod, slowly.

But rather, he smirks. His voice is saccharine sweet when he speaks,

“ Words, darling ”

Fuck this asshole.

Without a single word, you pull him closer by his neck, kissing him with fervour. Your teeth clash together, and you feel his nose slightly bump into yours, but nevertheless you mould his damp lips to yours, a flavour of the strong alcohol’s residue evident as the taste. He tastes so sweet, so sweet that it almost makes you melt, but you feel his lips stop.

And he pulls away.

His eyes narrow mischievously, almost as if he's challenging you. His brows are pinched together almost as if he's mad, and panic instantly burns your veins; did you do anything wrong?

What you don't expect is, that now his arms snake down to your nightgown clad waist, and his another arm reaches for both of your wrists, and pushes you down to the soft bed. You audibly gasp, feeling his strength on your wrists, but he's sure that he's not hurting you. And pins your arms above your head, lips curled in a snarl which almost makes you shiver, and you shiver, a delicious shiver running up your spine.

And his eyes now hold a carnal rage, brown eyes now almost black.

And you resist the urge to arch your back off the bed, feeling breathless all of a sudden. This side of Taehyung is completely new to you, and a part of you is equally astonished as well as fascinated.

His gaze is so fucking strong, you know he's boring holes into your skull, and you dare to squirm underneath him, your stomach twisting as you feel the heat pool in your lower belly.

“ Stop fucking squirming. ” That's not a plea. That's a fucking command, and you nearly feel like disobeying him again, just to coax out more reactions out of him. But much to your dismay, his grip on your waist and palms tightens, and you see his pupils dilate a bit more.

“ Hadn't I told you to use your words, darling? ” Darling. The new nickname sets a fire inside your veins, and equally as you feel heat travel to cheeks, you feel his lips slowly curl to a smirk, but the look he gives you through his eyes, you cannot tell what is he thinking of.

He knows his effect on you too well.

You were you. You were his best friend, the only one who offered him his croissant on that chilly, cold day when his eyes felt puffy and his nose was runny, and everyone seemed to be celebrating. Everyone was happy, everyone had their hands clasped in their fathers, cheering with sing songs and chorus, which made him feel sad. The ten year old him couldn't digest the fact that he wasn't close to his father, and he was the only one who was without a companion, without his father.

Where was his father, back then? No wonder, back to his office, burying his head in those scary looking papers, scribbling his pen on them, busy apparently.

The younger Taehyung felt angry on his dad. So angry, that the anger flushed to tears, to the extent when his loneliness altogether made him cry like crazy in public. The younger Taehyung didn't have friends, for why he was known as the weird one, liking hamburgers and video games more when boys of his age liked soccer and camping. He liked art and talking to the peonies and daises more than he liked talking to others, and maybe he liked his art more than he liked his studies.

His mother, though, loved him. She loved him more than she could express, because having to manage two little children, marely babies and Taehyung who was the oldest, he wwas often the victim of the missed pages while fast turning, often the one left alone with some paper money and a letter on the desk written for him to grab some hamburgers, alone at the day as the bay passed away. All alone, he could only stare gloomily at the walls, whitewashed and faded.

At times he didn't know if he was even wanted by his parents.

But there was you. You too, were without a companion, and even if the little Taehyung saw a pair of bright, doe eyes looking at him, but each time he remembers the memory, he always remember the loneliness, the poignance behind those two, big pupils. You had offered the sobbing boy your own croissant, which he supposed that he missed when getting distributed. A bright smile, and soon you disappeared, much to the confusion and even disappointment, but again he saw the same pair of yellow sandals and painted toenails, and upon raising his head, saw your head and those warm, doe eyes again, with your head tiltled at him. You were holding two cups within yoir tiny palms, and the little Taehyung almost got his cheeks painted a rosy shade of red when he realises that you were beautiful, and his little heart skipped some beats at your cute appearance, slightly shorter than him.

And since then, he doesn't remembers when have you been out of his thoughts since that night.

And now, caged between his arms underneath him, so cutely writhing with desire, your cute eyes shutting close and lips slightly trembling, hands wriggling in his hold. You were now grown up, but still so smaller and cuter, and Taehyung felt every second of hell whenever he had to let go of the thoughts to pick you up and kiss you till you forget your name, and he felt himself growing bitter at the thoughts. So he, let go of everything, and finally let that out, and somehow is releived that he doesn't have to regret that. He felt his heart race; you were always beside him, and this evening was not a surprise.

He wasn't mad at you. He just wanted the first time, the most awaited kiss he'd give you, to be special, not a kiss which almost made your teeth clash together, but he didn't mind. He liked seeing you so precious underneath him, and has dreamt of it since how long, only he knows.

He smiled when he heard your voice again.

“ Just kiss me, Taehyung, a thousand times, yes. ”

He felt his smile growing as he leaned down to brush a stray strand falling on your cheekbone, grazing it carefully to tug it behind your ears. He loves seeing you so small, so precious like this, and he sort of feels like he should pause this moment, and just stamp on you inside his head forever, as if you weren't already.

But however, it suddenly dawned onto him that there's no going back from this. His heart thumps wildly in his chest because this is the moment he has craved for years, and now when finally this has floated to the surface, to reality, the worst of his fears too, cling on. He knows that you're not that type of person who'll leave him without any reasons and with a miscommunication, but is he really willing to take the risk? To take it all and then, lose you?

You visibly see Taehyung move a bit back, his lips drawn in a small pout. He's overthinking, and you often know that this stubborn fella wouldn't let you know a single thought about his, but now the tension is so high that maybe the thoughts which bubble in your head, matches with his.

He too is thinking if this, your bond would be shattered because of the growing desires, hidden affection for eachother since years which finally are coming true.

You cup his warm cheek in your smaller palms, tugging him out of his reverie. His eyes are shine softly, the brown of them sparkling in the golden lamp light.

“ It's okay, Taehyung. We're together in this. ” you flash him a grin, hoping to soothe his nerves a bit, and you're relieved because of the box like grin which stretches on his lips, too.

“ So, may I kiss you, now? ” his voice is gentle as he nears your mouth, hands back to your hips, fingers tracing careless circles into your skin. It tingles wherever he touches and you wriggle a bit, nodding desparately.

His lips inch closer to yours own, till the extent you feel his alcohol mixed breath mingle with your own, his hands feeling warmer as each second passes by. The stupid, small kiss had you reeling in your head, and now as you feel his hair touching your cheekbone, you're sure that if you don't kiss him, you'd die right there and then. His lips felt so soft, so sweet against your own, that to feel them once more had you whining quietly as you clutch his shoulders, feeling the tough muscles ripple at your touch.

Feeling impatient, you connect your lips to his. You sigh, and he grins. You could feel his smile in the kiss as his hands roam up to your hips from your waist, the silk of your nightgown feeling fluffy under his touch as your mouths move with a certain tenderness which you know only if for you. He tastes faintly like alcohol and more like chocolate, and you wonder if it's because of the candy he popped in while he was talking to you. Your hands find his ruffled raven hair, caressing the roots. You're slightly surpirsed when Taehyung purrs in the kiss, and now it's your turn to smile.

But the sweet, tender moment seems to have been burnt when Taehyung pushes his tongue inside your mouth, licking your own. His tongue reaches back to lick the seam of your lips, and that's when you realise that how slowly his hands are advancing towards your stomach, his touch leaving behind sparks of fire. You crack open your eyes to find his eyes hungrily watching you, and you shiver. With the anticipation and the feeling of the shameless heat in his eyes which is melting down your self resistance in all the ways. His fingers dance on the skin of your tummy, all the while licking your lips as you pant, his touch furious as a whimper makes its way up your throat, and Taehyung smirks. You're adding more to his ego and you're totally helpless, not when this man's touch feels so so good.

When his lips touch the junction of your neck, right on the curve where your shoulder meets, you let out a moan. His kisses are drizzled with his warm, wet tongue on your skin and there's a pit of desire bubbling in your stomach, already. The moan urges him to continue, watching you with hooded eyes as you lose it all, the ache in between your legs growing rapidly with each swipe of his tongue on your skin. His hands travel up to your tits, brushing them slightly— and your hips buck up, finding relief for the growing desires inside you. But he takes none of that, and one of his hands fly down to grip your hips, refraining you from any moment and you whine.

“ Taehyung, please.. ”

“ Please what, baby? ” his voice has never been so sultry, so seductive as it is now, and you do not think the meaning behind his words, to take them for another gesture; and you squirm again.

“ ____, if I don't hear it from you, I'm not touching you. I need you to say it. ” His voice is strong, and you nod furiously, letting out a shaky yes, please touch me.

And that's what he needed to hear from you.

His head dips down to the seam of your nightgown, right on your cleavage, licking a long stripe from the seam to where your nipples are, already hardened and pert from his teasing. You gasp, and your back arches, and he repeats the same ministration again, this time taking the pert, aching bud in his warm mouth right above your nightgown, swirling his tongue around it. The sensation goes right down to your clit, your cunt clenching around thin air and you whimper. His other hand fondles with the soft flesh. You wonder if he knows how sensitive your boobs are, because the right amount of pressure serves you the pleasure, travelling throughout your veins in a buzzing pleasure.

He had enough of it, right when he tears off your wet nightgown from you. You're torn away from the daze, when you see the torn piece of cloth in his huge hands, eyes widening on the sudden action. He scoffs at the cloth, and smirks at you, plunging down immediately to capture a nipple into his mouth, nibbling over it and licking all over the same, his other hand pressing and rolling the other bud with his pointer and thumb, occasionally kneading the flesh. Moans fall off your lips like a prayer, hips bucking amd thighs rubbing together in an attempt to releive the ache, because you feel your slick oozing down your hole to the curve of your ass. He's totally ignoring your pussy, and you feel like giving him the taste of what he has done.

He's busy with your tits, while your hand sneaks down to his waist, suddenly grabbing his cock confined in his pants, which seems already so hard and throbbing, and so..thick. He gasps, suddenly looking at you and removing your hand, his pupils blown out with the lust. He grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple, and you're suddenly met with his cock on your clothed core, grinding slowly. You close your eyes at the sensation, his sweatpants being too thin to hide his cock, and each time his cock grinds on your clit, you feel like you're ascending to heaven. Your jaw drops, and suddenly there's nothing.

You almost feel like crying. But he's smirking, reaching down to press his lips on your neck, and you shiver when you hear him whispering.

“ You need to earn this cock if you want this so badly, dear. ”

#bts fics #taehyung fics #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic

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pascalsbby · 1 year ago

Text

The Devil & His Brother / II

Joel x Tommy x You

Prologue / Part I / Masterlist

Summary: “Good, been staring out the window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

AKA: Bath time with the Millers 😈

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: 18 + mndi, DUBCON DRUG USE: enemies to lovers, heavy talk & use of drugs/pills, morally grey Millers, slow-burn, angst/comfort/sex, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, major daddy issues (that’s why you need BOTH Miller brothers instead of 1). talk of death, shit-talking god & praying for the devil himself.

I feel like I'm sending out something so personal... and familiar in ways that I know aren't. Maybe that's how memories feel after a while.

God is fucking with my oblivion. If he wants forgiveness, he shouldn't have given us memory.

- Vi Khi Nao

“Can’t do it, Joel.”

“Goddamnit.” His huff was deep and bothered by your apparent inability to do anything he asked of you.

His anger didn't sit with you, but himself. He didn't really know that, though. Doesn't feel too much beneath the thickness of his skull. Hard-headed fucker.

The scent of you hung leaden in the steam-filled bathroom. Iron. Blood. Something saccharine that made him ache as he peeled your clothes from your weak skin. Lately, his temper has been short, and unbeknownst to you he hasn’t always been this way. Even in recent years. You assumed he was always like this, further etching the lines that softened on his face (only after yelling at you), but he would argue that you were acting like a little fuckin’ brat… so his snippy remarks were justified.

"Did all the work of carryin' you here and now you're gonna off yourself? Cause you won't let me help you bathe in the only hot bath water you've seen since you were what.... sixteen? M' not that big and scary, Bunny."

You both had your own ways of dealing with things, you guessed. Verbal expression of any kind besides small, whispered sentences had been scarce. Except for when he was angry. Except for right now.

You stopped listening because suddenly nothing seemed to matter too much. It didn’t all feel so black and white; life-ending like he was making it seem, being a real grump.

“Are you listenin’ to m–?”

His tuneful voice now sounded hollow as it bounced off of your blurring peripheral vision.

You didn’t answer Joel, instead, you listened to the music in your head and wondered how it got there. How you got into his arms.

Joel called Tommy’s name after you stumbled into his warmth. You winced at his raised voice, almost breaking you from a blissful trance. “God damnit Tommy, get in here. I can’t hold her up and wash her at the same time.” Ten minutes of Joel trying to get you in the bath like you were a fucking toddler was enough. He wouldn’t be able to hold your body up and wash you simultaneously, either. It was a two-person job to do it correctly, and gently.

Tommy returned an hour or so earlier, saying whoever had followed them had taken another way around, but they’d seen fresh hoof marks. “It’s weird Joel,” he said.

“Fuck, I just washed these jea-“ his voice coming from down the hallway. He turned the corner, changed into clean clothes, and was taken aback by your bare chest staring back at him from underneath Joel’s veined arm. His skin burns into yours.

“What the fuck did you give her?” He was immediately angry.

Give me? Peace. Radiating warmth, you thought. He didn’t know that you didn’t feel a lot anymore, but you knew deep down that you felt something more for Joel.

“She’s in pain, Tommy. Only thing she’s felt in the past nine years is pain. Help me get her in here and then take off the fucking jeans then, I don’t care. Get some towels and then get in here. Don’t know how much time we have ‘fore it wears off.” Joel growled. Then you close your eyes and let go, swimming through the low buzz in between their thrown bickers.

He’d talked real sweet to you, in hopes of getting you to take a bath. Mostly because being 'somewhere else' would be best when washing your wound, away from the water gripping at your side. Another small reason was that he didn’t want to hear you mumble, “no,” again. You needed a proper bath if you were ever going to get better. Although you didn’t seem too interested in such

That must have been the extent of Tommy’s anger, because he listens exactly to what Joel says. He unlocks his leather-backed metal belt and it hits the floor in the same instance, cling. He doesn’t mention the pills again, just takes his jeans off before he turns the handles of the running bath off and assumes his position outside of it. Joel takes his own shirt off, skin soft-looking and warm. He was sweating, skin slightly glowing from the sweat reflecting the bathroom lights. You could smell him. He kept his boxers on, still maintaining a sliver of his respect. He was willing his cock to follow the same.

He sunk himself into the bathwater with a deep groan, one of relief. Tommy walked you closer and helped you climb into the bath. It burned, felt like it was boiling. You were standing in it now, between Joel’s legs, hands still enclosed in Tommy’s as he helped you keep your balance. Joel was trying not to think about how your core was aligned perfectly before him as you stood. You turned, ass swaying as you prepared to sit on his clothed lap. They both looked away as your body was fluctuating in the prettiest fucking way they’d both ever seen.

“S’okay baby, sit down.” You bent down to hold the sides of the tub, letting Tommy go. You were spread open right in front of Joel’s face, the back of your pussy practically calling to him as it finally came in contact with his lap.

Tommy turns around and sighs before walking out of the bathroom to fetch towels like an obedient dog. Joel shuffled you, with what would have been awkward silence between the three of you if two of you weren’t high. If one of you hadn’t just left the room.

Joel has already swallowed his dusty piece of sanctuary. You had too, in the tea he made you thirty minutes ago. He was dangling another pill in front of you, now that Tommy was out of sight. This time allowing you a choice; rather than remain silent as it swam down your throat.

"Let me help you sum’ more, baby. Gonna give you something to help the hurt. Don’t go running, an’ don't tell Tommy. He wouldn't like that I'm makin’ you feel good."

Telling Tommy would consist of more non-compartmentalized guilt and yet another thing for him to look down upon Joel for. Another bullet point to add to Tommy’s list of Reasons Joel is a Fucking Asshole. And you needed help right now. This is how he could help you. So no, he would not be telling Tommy that he fed the girl more pills, too. She was simply exhausted and needed help bathing. She was in pain and needed him; them. Tommy would have done the same, no?

He slipped around on the wetness of your lips before he parted them with one, thick finger.

“Stick out your tongue for me.”

He notes your lack of hesitation to open your mouth for him. He places the bitter thing there, gently.

“Swallow.”

He smirked as you obeyed.

“You’re a’ good little thing, you know. S'good to listen and mind.” He tucked your hair behind your ear so that it wouldn’t keep falling in your face.

His drugs were now yours. His regrets, too. And he secretly hoped that his desires were burning into your body and being met with the same inner incineration. But he wasn’t regretting it right that moment. Not as he watched your body slacken. He knew your entire being was numb when you were reaching up at him, fingers looking for feeling.

His thumb ran across the plumpness of your bottom lip and his thighs flexed inadvertently. You felt the small jerk of his body, your eyes drawn upwards meeting his. He felt the moment your breathing became deeper, slipping through his skull and resting on the center of his lust. Then he heard the teetering of the old house as it sang. He heard chatter outside, and it all sounded happy, nothing scary around. He returned to your nose, where a little black wish sat, kissing your cheek. He moved his thumb up to brush the eyelash away and whisper his own silent prayer.

You looked around his face before resting your gaze on his lips, and he knew that you were slipping deeper too. The moment ended in a split second torn into a million, and you were looking him in the eyes. Your pupils are already blown, helpless, and in need of strong arms to hold you upright. It fucking hurt. You hadn’t been so willing without the drugs. The pit of his stomach crawled in need as your back rested against it. Your ass was scooted up, and he could feel the break between your legs, could feel the warmer skin of your pussy kissing his thighs.

He loosely assumed that you’d never been in the bath with a man before, either. Probably never been naked in front of one... or two. And he knew that it shouldn’t be something he was proud of, to have you here, safe in his arms and naked in his bath. But he was.

“Feel something?”

“Mhmm.”

He felt your response in the tone of your flexing abdomen. His wide fingertips sink into your cushioned fat and the softness of your stretch marks. It stung, the water, like having his presence near it set it off, simmering around his body, trying to kiss anything of him that it could. The water was pretty pink for a few moments, your body releasing the hold it had on your dried blood and the dirt accompanying it. His hands were occupied by the washcloth he was softly rubbing against your body. Then it was dark, and whenever you looked down it was harder and harder to see the end of his legs, stretching out before and underneath you, holding your body (against his) up. “Fuck me.” It was he who had released that sound.

“Good, been staring out tha’ window for far too long,” he said. “You can look at something prettier now. Close your eyes, bunny.”

You did what Joel wanted of you, and quickly you fell into the heavy light buzzing right outside of yourself like your aura was bouncing off of the smoldering color... like a blanket, maybe. One of blurred confessions and soft, radiating heat. Your arms are heavier but in a slow melting comfort, and it feels like butterflies right above your hip bones crawling right towards your cunt in a low pulse. As if the energy moved and hovered itself into your underwear and is prodding its fingertips into your soaking center, touching every bit of swollen flesh as his fingers disappear into you. But he’s sitting still, you think. He is everywhere but inside of you.

Your memories lilt against your skull, retracting from any indication of themselves. Much of who you were is gone, left in dark patches of shadow and musk. Outlines of a monster (human) ((him)) setting his jaw on your shoulder from behind, willing the air to kiss that spot right under your ear. Your own blood, his sweat. The undulating sway of his plush lips and impending jaw from below. You’d only seen him this way, from below. Like he was something holy, forever above you and rarely looking down. You reach up and feel his face, running the sensitive skin of your fingertips against his stubbly chin and neck.

Most of your time was spent contently sitting in your (Joel’s) favorite chair, the one you hadn't really left or released yourself from, just assuming that it had now formed to your body. Maybe you had melted into the dirty crevices, instead. You wanted nothing more than to sink into it and become a part of the worn and well-loved fabric. No one expected anything of this chair. For it to simply exist confirms its usefulness.

A week or so ago, you had been dying, pooling blood turned your skin terian-like, how the tips of your fingers used to turn in the now-cold bath. He was right– it had been years. This death doesn't feel much different. Just slower. You had been doing better before Tommy left to check the perimeters and outward land of Jackson. They didn’t know that no one would be following you. Or looking for you… needing you. Praying for you.

Joel thinks a lot about the comfort-glaze of your eyes whenever you saw Tommy that day like you’d been happy that he was there to see you off, hold your hand as you looked into the sky and deflate into the ground. He thinks about how you’d probably rather have him here, now.

Maybe that’s what you write in your notebook, still sitting in the chair, but this time with your face turned towards your lap, completely lost under the lamp every night around 10:37.

Maybe that's what is feeding into his mood.

You would have already been in that bath if Tommy were to ask you, rather than Joel. He thinks about how Tommy’s eyes lit up when he first looked into yours, hazel. Gaze flashing as if in recognition of an importance. Joel could see a hint of the brother he once knew, before his world ended. Before all of your worlds ended. He knew in that moment that something shifted for the both of you, but for Joel, it felt like drowning.

He looked at you and he saw the torn, soft skin of a small animal. He didn’t know that the damage was on the inside.

Joel resented the way he was drawn to you, it made him viscerally angry at himself. He was angry at how calling you baby had been so easy, the way he felt his cock thicken at the sound of your grunt in agreement. Or the smell of you, even though you hadn’t bathed in god knows how fucking long. He pretended it was the drugs, but it wasn’t. These were his secrets and the web was already intertwining with itself. He almost feels like if he were to tug on it now, even more shit would fall out, come unstuck and drag him into the ground to a place where he’s surprised he isn't lying already.

How can you hide such a carnal want? He’s unfamiliar with the feeling. Uncomfortable with it.

What would they say? Would Tess say? “One more pussy for you to fuck, Joel? This time it's new and fresh, betcha could teach her a thing or two, huh?” Tess had always been the jealous type, Joel clocked it the first week they met. She hid it well, but you can’t hide from someone who recognizes something in you, because they recognize it in themselves, too. Joel and Tess, Tess and Joel. The town knew there was something happening between the two of them, but no one said anything. They knew Joel was her loyal guard dog. They knew not to disturb Mr. Miller's peace. He was a kind enough man, besides that.

He was hoping for anything other than to hear the question, "You think you can save this one, too?" He knew that he couldn't. He couldn't promise your safety. However, he could sense that you were in need of it. Perhaps not obviously at first glance; you appeared tough on the surface, but there was something in your eyes that begged him, “Release me. Let me rest.” Something calling his name. He was hearing it now, in the cadence of your voice, whispering around his head as he stopped himself from touching you.

He knew that they, you, would get him in trouble if he didn’t stop it and try to pawn it off to someone else before it (his desire) got too bad. “Hey, look, she’s with him, not me. Now let me sit and stutter into the darkness while you take the only thing that has made you feel an inch of something in the past month.”

They would chain him up if he ever admitted the level of his desires. Embarrassed at the way he was already entirely attached to you. Something about, “I almost killed you, but let me be the savior. Love me enough to let me swallow you whole,” probably wouldn’t sit too well.

“Joel?” you questioned, slow and small.

His skin rises instantly, stunned by your sound and the touch of your body. “What did you–?” he softly shhh’s you because suddenly, the way your body hums into his when you speak is too much. Your hand continues to fall slowly against the thicker hair near his jaw, ghosting over unsaid words and lips. His breathing was becoming too heavy for someone who was just there to be a savior.

“Gettin’ clean feels good,” his heavy thumbs pinching deeper into skin, voice far away and muffled under yearning, drowning, “don’t it, pretty?”

You let your arms hit the water, too tired and blissed out to hold them up longer. He chuckled and it rang through every inch of your nude being. The water splashed, and the roundness of Joel’s lower belly retracted quickly from your back, startled by the closeness of your body. You hadn’t felt it before, his whole self pressed firmly against you. The thickness of it. Your thighs oozed over his lap, completely covering him. Your feet ended at almost his mid-leg. He stretched further out in the bath ahead of you.

Joel didn’t need a verbal response from you. Knew you couldn’t give him one anyway. He knew that he should, that’s the right way to go about this. But he had just carried you over his lap for a week, bleeding out on him, screaming. He would help you relieve yourself, too, when needed. Couldn’t pee by yourself the first couple of days. Didn’t bother him much, not after what he’d seen. He’s had much worse cross his hands. He knew the whole ride back that if you were conscious enough to know that you were still alive, you’d be embarrassed to hell that he would help you off the horse, pull your pants down, and hold you. He couldn’t understand why that had shuffled something inside of him. The point is, he’s seen it all anyway. All of you, physically at least. Now he was simply just helping you out some more. Until you could tell him to stop. It's the least he could do if he really did shoot her.

He watched as they pulled the bullet out of your side, Tommy pale-faced in the corner, shrinking.

Joel knew you were out from the pain meds they had stuck into your veins, but that wasn’t a good enough promise that you would sit still through it, that it would be painless.

When you hold more weight, you need a little more.

He slipped you a little something extra before all the men got there that night to see and help. Your body was lying on his kitchen table, sweating and tired, dying. But you– you were asleep with a soft smile on your lips. He held you still, just just in case, hands pushed down into your cushioned stomach. The other was around your wrists, positioned just above your head so that the ‘doctors’ had room to move freely around your side. It was hard not to stare at a body that looked well-fed and healthy, in a world like this. Your breasts were moving softly with every movement of your body from other hands. Your hair under your arms was dark and visible in the way he was holding your hands above your head.

No one dared speak upon your body with Joel around, especially since he was the one that dragged you in here, meaning you were his property, Miller property, now.

TOMMY looked away upon entering, watching Joel retreat from where he was whispering into your ear. He could hear the bass of his brother's voice, slowly echoing in the hallway. He would pretend, for the sake of his sanity, that he didn’t know exactly what was happening before witnessing it. Especially after Joel had mentioned a couple of times that you seemed closer to his age, meaning keep an eye on this one, brother. “She’d probably like ya more anyway, younger n’ more capable. Bigger name in Jackson, too.�� This coming from the mouth of a man who even went as far as to say, “Coulda’ made a good wife,” three hours after shooting her.

People all deal with things differently, he guesses.

It wouldn’t be the first time that he secretly craved something that his big brother was dangling in front of him, knowing that somehow he had the advantage. But then Tommy felt guilty thinking that way. Joel had been through so much and lost too many people for Tommy to get in the way of whatever look took over your body as you sat against his chest, halfway immersed in water and looking up into Joel’s face. You looked more peaceful now than you have at any moment since stepping into this house.

“Come and try to get her, Tommy.”

But of course, he won’t show that he yearns for you, too. It feels wrong. That Joel was the one to kill you but you were staying with him; that he was your primary safekeeper and healer. You were sitting on his lap, nipples hard and body at attention, peacefully asleep with your cheek pushed up against the hair on Joel's chest, resting in the arms of the man who nearly succeeded at killing you.

If he were to say anything else, it would be, “I know you fucking drugged her, Joel. N’ you didn’t even give her a choice.” But he didn’t want to wake a sleeping bear, not right now. Not when you looked so peaceful and pain-free for the first time since they grabbed the world from underneath your feet. Not when the very thing Tommy could not stop thinking about was lying on the bear’s chest.

YOU can feel yourself between your legs. It’s the kind of absentee pulse that you almost want to stop, but it feels too good. Light fingertips brushing the hair on the back of your neck. Like that of knowing a lightning storm is crawling its way across the night sky. Or hearing the neighbor roll their trash can down their road, unable to tell if it’s thunder or an earthquake in its deep humming, only to be relieved that it is in fact another human existing in close proximity to you. Although not something that you remember too well now, just the feeling. It’s surprising and suspenseful at the same moment. It’s love and then what comes after.

There’s always an after.

Then you feel the drip running from right inside of you into the hot water, against the fluttering of your thickening lips.

Please. Kiss me here. Hard, hurtful, and sinful. Strip me to my bones and then use them as your toys. Then tell me I’m a good girl and run your hands through my hair. Tell me I fought good and hard and then let me lie here for a while.

Chanting like a prayer.

You remember the smell of his lap, much different than the smell of his neck, but still devastatingly carnal. You cradled into the warmth of his neck; in the burn of his embrace and you sat there, teetering between consciousness and the bliss of finally being held. You had always been afraid that you would leave the world and not even be able to wrap your own arms around you. But someone was holding you before the ground will be— forever. This didn’t feel like dying through.

This felt like something else. Similar, but different.

You sat on top of Joel’s lap in the bath for at least an hour, resting your head on his shoulder, turning and resting it against his chest, too. They both washed you, silently eating you up. Tommy stood outside of the bath, combing your hair after Joel ran his gruff hands through it, pawing at your scalp and rubbing the dirt (hurt) from your scalp. No one talked, everyone inside their own thoughts.

Joel was stuck thinking about the small bags of things you had lost grasp on whenever you fell (were shot). It looked like time-worn items that meant something, from before the world was this way. One is an old driver's license- your smile, happy, content, young. Your name, now repeating in Joel’s head over and over, and over and over, coating every inch of him. He still hadn’t heard it come from your lips.

9 years ago, this all started. You, now in your mid-20s. How long had you been all alone? No one had come running to your corpse.

They had come to the conclusion that you were doing well on your own. You weren’t skin and bones like most of them who are lucky enough to survive and find their way to Jackson. You were thick, and heavy in the most beautiful way. Heavy meant healthy, able to hunt, and useful. It meant maybe being able to carry children. It meant handfuls of skin and whispered praises. It meant more to wash, to take in, and try not to touch. It was too much for both of them. The only difference is that Joel knew he was a weak man. He wouldn’t be able to control himself if he kept feeling this way.

After they removed you from Joel’s lap, they towel dried you and you slowly became more aware of how different four large hands felt grasping at your body, taking care of you. Helping you.

An hour or so had passed and Tommy was lying in bed next to you, reading something. Joel turned the corner and leaned up against the doorframe.

“Tommy.” There was tar in his throat, dripping down the back of his tongue and settling in his chest. He was a million pounds and his legs could no longer bear the weight of her. Of you. Of his guilt for slipping your drugs and undressing you in his bathroom.

He looked into you, bounced off the sides of your mind, and then straight into the bed you were lying upon, sleeping so peacefully next to his brother. Tommy sees the pain in Joel's eyes, hung lower in embarrassment.

He did this to you. He took the life of someone who had the rest of this fucked up world ahead of her. And it was a slow and painful death, too. You were someone’s daughter. It’s fucked up how the world works like that, huh? It wasn’t enough losing his own daughter- he had to kill someone else too. Does your dad, husband, or mother, feel you slipping from the world? Do they hear hushed whispers in the night of your name leaving something tongue?

Joel stopped believing in God a long time ago. He was slipping from his grip, facing the fall, and Sarah’s last moments solidified his feet on the ground. Almost under. Still surprised it’s not under.

“I’ll take her, Joel. In the mornin we’ll pack up some things and go back to my house.” He said softly, nodding and looking down at the ground in an unspoken, “I know.”

It's Tommy who steps forward, taking charge and offering to care for you. He can sense his brother’s connection to you, why he wants to save you so badly. So much so that he can’t. He doesn’t trust himself for what will happen if someone else dies under his watch, because of him. Someone innocent. “I know she’s sleepin’ but can we have a moment?” Joel asks.

Tommy doesn’t question him, he marks his page, sets down his book, and carries his body from the bed to the hallway. Joel waited a moment and assured me that you were tucked in well, warm from the bath. He sighed, one of pain.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was stern in the way that held back his tears. “You have to believe me,” he whispered your name, the first time it left his tongue and he wanted to say it over and over again. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have done that to you without askin’.” He caressed your face, watching as your body reacted to his touch, stirring, before the bed creaked with the weight of his body leaving, and then he was gone. You had heard everything, felt him leaving. The room felt entirely too empty.

The Devil was begging you to forgive him, and you wanted to. You wanted to bring your palms together and whisper his name through the cracks, hoping he would hear your silent prayer. “Let me stay here, with you.”

Tommy entered the room again and sank under the covers. He moved his body closer to you and you decided to bask in it, instead.

You wake up, unclear but clean. You don’t remember last night in great detail, or at least a few hours of it, at all. He slept peacefully despite the world’s end, cocooned in a haven his mind crafted. Your mind was far less forgiving— or maybe you still hadn’t learned how to ‘deal with it’. You always felt like everyone dealt with It better. The room lay shrouded in darkness, your thoughts raging, Joel’s words echoed in your mind, etching against the soft inside of your head, deeper with each repetition. His guilty confession and desperate plea for forgiveness replayed. But forgiveness was no longer something you believed in. The world had ended, shattered, and reassembled without remorse. You are sober now. You fall back asleep.

Your eyes opened again to Tommy caving the bed closer to him, moving your body closer, too. You closed your eyes quickly, away from him, and pretended you hadn’t been awake and listening to the lull of his deep breathing, trying to gain your standing. You felt comforted, waking up next to his freckled shoulders. The hazy light of morning was trailing in from the window and laying out on the carpet, stretching itself in the morning confusion.

There was one thing you were absolutely-fucking-sure about, and it was that Joel Miller had drugged you, and it had secretly awakened something unknown inside of you. It tickled, but it was shoving its way up your stomach and relentless, neverending in its pursuit of something.

Tommy Miller had saved you. At least he had put you to bed, it seems. And with him, too, rather than the one who seems to be dissolving into his own. Your hair was wet and you smelled like Joel, but you were shrouded in Tommy’s clothes. Slightly more fitting, and better kept together.

You’d never slept in a bed with a man before. And then all of sudden there were two, interchangeably. Brothers. One that smiled above your eyes and one below. Ones that rocked the bed differently each time their body swam through the damp covers.

You’d never taken a bath with a man either. Never had anyone's brother ever pulled your sinking body out of bathwater. You remember the inward push of the water and the hands that followed, reaching through it, pushing you forward to Tommy.

There’s a quick assessment you’ve always done, automatically but unintentionally, “Would this one stop if I asked him to?” Most are ‘no’s. Tommy was a yes in your mind. He would put away his soft, white wings and free you from his divinity if you were to ask.

He was sipping his coffee, dressed in his usual, alone at the table. He had opened the blinds he made sure three times he shut last night. The smoke billowed from the base of the cup into his face and hair, mixing with the silver tuffs. They shone against the darkness at the nape of his neck and the bottom of his chin from the emitting light.

He looked calm sitting there, as content as a devil could. He felt you before you had even turned the corner upstairs, but he didn’t say anything. He never really did.

That being said, you can't remember much of anything besides wondering if it was indeed your body that rustled the ground that day. It was, and then you felt a man. A few days could have been weeks, and suddenly you were sitting in a town. A word that didn’t mean too much for a long time, but it did again; sitting at the breakfast table of a man, undulating under his gaze and between the blank spaces of your memory.

An animal caged inside itself looks for relief in any way it can. Even if the relief is a different kind of pain masked as want. It meant throwing away your expectations and doing what it took to survive.

You intended on speaking first. Rather, you reached the bottom of the stairs and tucked Tommy’s red flannel across your sparsely clothed body, and suddenly heard, “Shouldn’t be half-naked when Ellie’s here. She’s a kid.”

He didn’t even take the time to move his attention away from his coffee cup. That would be too much effort given to you. You ignored him, wanting to scream, “Was she here last night when you played with me like I was your little fucking doll?” You didn’t give him what he wanted, but still hoping he would give you what you did.

You had watched the back of your eyelids dance with the small red and green dots for two more hours before getting up, willing remembrance. And oh, did it come.

“Got any more of those?”

“Of what?” He spat, eyebrows lowering in pretend interest in his hot coffee again… into his fuming lap. He knew exactly what the fuck you were talking about. How dare he take advantage of you and then throw it to the side like nothing happened. He was embarrassed. Embarrassed that he got high and took you with him.

“This is feeling’ a lot different than last night. Those little round things that kept me pliant an’ dead enough for you to press yourself into my naked body? – Joel, do you think I’m not payin’ any fuckin’ attention? The second I tasted the salt on your fingertips, I knew it was you shovin’ pills down my throat. I knew it. And the way you were talking to me, calling me babygirl and sweetheart? Then I didn’t know anything, for a while. Not really. But Tommy,” you were raising your voice now, “Tommy was there too, then I woke up in his bed with his clothes on instead of yours— just tell me what the fuck happened Joel!”

“Lower your voice, right now.” He was pointing at you, and his body moved closer to yours. “You… you wanted it Bunny,” He growled, “You practically drooled across my palm.” He sighed, gathered the lies from his web, and prepared them. He had already prepared his own cocoon, years ago.

He hadn't been the only one whose high wore off far too early in the night.

“You didn’t say you didn’t want ‘em and—“

Then you spoke above the sentence he was starting to dig deeper into the ground, to his surprise, in a softer tone. One that had a hint of sweetness to it, of want.

“Sweethear–”

“Do it again. Felt good.”

You liked it. Wasn’t the only thing he wanted to shove down your throat, either. No, no, no. Shaking the thought from his head.

He removed his eyes from the creases in the wood floor and sewed them into your gaze instead, eyebrows cresting. He wanted to make sure he heard you right. He wanted to hear you repeat it.

“Say that again?”

“Said feels good when you touch me like that. When I’m melting into your flesh and sinking down your bones. That’s what the water felt like. First, it felt like fire, perfect for a Devil, and then it felt like a calm warmth. Then your hands were touchin’ me and, no one has ever touched–

a pause, “like—“

“No one has ever touched you, bunny?”

“No, Joel. And I hate you so much for making me feel this way. For showing me something I can’t continue to have because it’s wrong and, for being so sweet to me and then eating me up like I'm a burden because you couldn't just fucking kill me when you had the chance... and…I can barely even fucking walk. I am in so much pain but you took it away for a while last night. You took everything bad away. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Hate me, huh? Thas’a strong word for someone who is depending on me, wanting more.” Good. This is how it needed to be. He needed to take care of Ellie, himself now. He promised her that he would.

“Depending on you? Sorry, I forgot we hadn’t got to that part of the conversation yet, past the one where you drugged me. You dropped me into your brother's arms as of last night, didn’t you? I remember it, you musta popped one too many, huh?”

Your attitude and his lack of sleep were making it easier to will the words off the end of his tongue.

“He seemed better suited for someone…” he looked you up and down, “like yourself.”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and he was immediately sorry after speaking about it.

“For being such a big bad man in this town, you don’t have your fucking shit together,” returning the look he gave you, “do you?”

You were out of breath, releasing too much of yourself into his anger, knees weak and side-splitting in pain. You weren’t going to tell him that you were awake when he begged for your forgiveness. That you heard every word he whispered and repeated it back to yourself as if it was a passage pulled right from the pen-marked Bible your dad used to shove into your hands nightly.

He thought you had been listening to everyone talking, in the mess hall and whatever drama Ellie had brought home. Maybe even Tommy had told you about the real Joel. The real Joel will tear you apart.

You sat down on the sunken chestnut couch and the pillows lifted more of his smell into your space, settling and trying to get comfortable. You both remained silent, stung. It made you even more mad that he had the ability to stick straight into your anger like that. So you wished for a way to really hurt him like you were some kind of child.

You weren’t done yet. You were angry. So fucking angry at everything you have endured. And he was standing there, pity and disgust in his eyes–but he was looking, seeing… listening.

“Tess.” Her name stung like the sound it ended with, for a reason you didn’t know, but inherently felt after last night. The hurt that flashed into his dark pupils spread through the tightness in his jaw.

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“Oh. Shut. Up. Joel. Heard ‘er talking to Tommy last night. Came knocking on the door around 1:30 am, asking for you. Tommy went to your room and you weren’t in there. Went back downstairs and said he couldn't find you, seen you only a couple of hours ago. She was throwing her hands against the door like it was hers to tear down. Guess she didn’t know I wasn’t with you,” you took a deep breath, trying to relieve the pain so you could continue, “Have you seen him? N’ that girl? Tommy, she's a fucking kid. Ain't right for him.” You mimicked her concern. You knew immediately who she was asking for. “Maybe I should go ask Tess if she would give me a few, she seems like she’d like to know what’s going on.”

His jaw was flexing, his eyes burrowing into you, biting the inside of his lip. You continued,

“Feels’good being numb for a’while. I’m always fanning off another fire but it always finds the loose thread and kisses it ablaze anyway. This feels like sinking... like I don’t have to fight anymore.”

His deep breath stifled the fire on his chest.

“Know it’s good,” his tone falling deep, low, and warning, “But you don’t need anymore.”

“Don’t I? You were the one who fucking shot me. The least you could do is slip me some pills. I’m in pain, Joel. I’m hurting.” He knew that you weren’t just talking about the wound in your side, that he put it there with his own split metal. He wanted to take that hurt away, get you curled up tight against him and high, painless, protected yet free�� from a world you were too young to be living in alone. But how could he protect you from even himself?

He didn't even save her. Nothing has changed now besides the fact he finds it harder and harder to get out of bed every day. That he’s running low on whiskey and that's what keeps the bear inside. The pills keep it sedated. How could he admit that he was not fit to be your protector, and the only other person in town who it could be, was Tommy?

That's why today was the last day you'd be slamming down his stairs. Your footsteps were a reminder that the hurt animal had made its way into his house. A reminder that he was the one who hurt it.“‘M not given’ you anymore. So don’t open your mouth about it again. Got it?"

As always, please let me know if I missed any warnings / want me to add you to the taglist: @worhols @sarap-77 @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @hellfyreroz @northernbluess-blog @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @k-ra @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrotonin @bluetattoos @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @faggotinie @justlulu

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