#not expressing any opinion on part four

[end0r4]

Zelda Spellman, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina | Chapter 𝟛𝟞 : At the Mountains of Madness

[no-144444]

playing favourites- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist.

pls remember this is fiction and purely for fun!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

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It wasn’t exactly your plan to have a DNF on your first race but, thus the joys of a backmarker team. Zak had promised you, sworn even, that McLaren would be up there, fighting with Ferrari and RedBull. He’d told you that leaving RedBull would be worth it. Now, you were getting beaten by a fucking VCarb, the seat you could’ve had. You stalked over to Oscar once you got out of the car. 

“Care to fucking explain?” you scoffed. He looked at you, unimpressed. 

“It was an error with the steering wheel,” he shrugged. “Nothing you, or I, could’ve done.”

You sighed. “Of course not. Nothing anyone could’ve done, do you think the media will take that? Do you think this won’t mark my fucking career?! Oscar I need you to understand-” 

“Stop shouting at him, it wasn’t his fault,” Zak demanded. 

“Exactly, it’s yours. Make your car drivable,” you said before walking away. 

It was your reputation on the line, your career, your life. You’d worked to be in Formula One your entire life, you were the first woman in years. You didn’t have the option of  ‘just having a bad race’. You had to impress every single time, or else you’d be ridiculed. You knew what you’d see online tonight. You knew what people would say. You knew what questions you’d get from reporters. You knew it all. You’d done the song and dance a million times before, and you weren’t interested in doing it again. 

“SO, WHAT HAPPENED?” “YOUR FANS ARE DEMANDING ANSWERS?” “WAS THIS AN ACTUAL FAILURE OF THE CAR, OR JUST THE DRIVER?” “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO YOUR RACE ENGINEER AFTER?” “DO YOU TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR RACE?” “WHAT DO YOU SAY ABOUT PEOPLE’S OPINIONS ON YOUR DRIVING AFTER TODAY?” “SHOULD YOU HAVE STAYED AT REDBULL?” 

“ARE YOU EVEN A GOOD DRIVER?”

Walking out of the media pen, you had your head hung low and a blank expression. Every single reporter wanted to talk to you. Every question was more and more degrading, and you just felt empty by the end of it. Megan, your press officer, left you in the hallway of the motorhome and you leant against it and sighed. 

You couldn’t keep doing this. 

In recent months you’d been questioning whether or not any of this was worth it. Every single weekend of your career had been a step towards gender equality, you were the poster-girl for being a good driver, but it was always just not enough. You’d left RedBull because of it. You realised they’d never give you a seat and just continue to use you as a diversity hire. It hurt though, that had been your home for years. You’d always been a RedBull driver, since you were in karting. The whole lead up to your first race was months and months of questions, everyone wondering if you could finally show everyone that women deserved seats in F1. 

And you’d just fucked it up. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you’d started crying until you felt them on your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away, but it wasn’t quick enough to fool Oscar. He frowned as he looked at you, walking towards you. You rolled your eyes. “Don’t fucking pity me,” you scoffed. “Come on, we have to debrief,” you said, walking into the boardroom. 

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“Oscar, when am I pitting?” you shouted, hoping he would finally fucking answer you. 

“I’m not sure yet, give me a moment Y/n-”

“Y’know it’s really fucking impressive how we finally get in the points and now I’m getting fucking undercut because you’re not fucking ready Oscar, this is ridiculous!” you shouted. 

“Pitting next lap,” he said, neutral. It pissed you off how level-headed he was. 

“Fuck off,” you muttered. You pitted next lap. You finished the race in P11. 

Shit. 

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“Fuck!” you shouted at Oscar, getting out of the car. “This is such fucking bullshit.”

“Y/n-” he started.

“Just fuck off,’ you sighed, pushing his hand off your arm. “That would’ve been our best finish! P5?! And then Lando turns into me?!” 

He nodded. “Calm down,” he soothed. Your mood turned. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you ripped your arm back. 

Lando DNFed. You DNFed. Shit. 

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P15, another failure. At least you’d gotten higher than Lando, stuck down in P17. 5 races in and 0 points between the two of you? Fucking hell. You’d never scored so badly in your life. You walked over to the barrier, finding Oscar standing there. 

“Sorry,” you sighed. “We’re so fucking slow.”

He nodded. “We’ll keep working.” 

You nodded, but you felt that same nausea twisting your gut. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, somehow sensing it all. You shook your head. 

He stared at you a second longer, then took your answer, despite the way he sensed your lie. 

You two didn’t get along. He understood that. It didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of your insane diet and work out regimen. He was completely aware of the way you blame yourself despite the car being the only issue. He watched you work yourself to the bone. He almost wished you would be a bit more arrogant, like Lando, he wished it fell off your shoulders as easily as it did his. 

He couldn’t stand the media. The narrative they were pushing about you was ridiculous. You’d won every junior series, you’d waited your turn in RedBull, only to get kicked to the curb, you were good enough, but something told him you were starting to believe otherwise.

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“So what’s the issue?” Zak sighed, pacing the garage, starting one of his famous pep talks. 

“Y/n,” a voice from the back muttered and everyone's heads snapped to you. It had been one of the mechanics who had preferred Carlos, but you just shrugged. A few chuckles were heard, one of them coming from Lando himself, and you just continued what you were doing, staring off into space. 

“It’s the car we built,” Zak answered his own question, trying to do damage control. 

“She’s not exactly Hamilton,” Lando said, a little bit too loud, as he joked with his engineer. 

“She’s consistently placed in front of you in the same car,” Oscar pointed out, his voice neutral. “The only reason she DNFed in Saudi Arabia was because you turned into her. Also, you haven’t gotten any points.”

“What are you, her boyfriend?” He chuckled, making the garage laugh. You rolled your eyes, getting up and walking off. “Is she fucking PMSing?” 

Oscar’s blood boiled at the way his co-workers laughed at that, at you. You didn’t deserve this shit from Lando, from anyone. Oscar went after you. He stopped right outside your driver’s room. 

“I don’t know what to do.

He heard your voice, thick with emotion. 

“You’re not working hard enough, look at Lando. You have to pay your dues here, it’s how McLaren works. Go for a run and clear your head.”

“I’m exhausted-”

“I’m not asking.” 

He stepped back, letting the door swing open. You stared back at him with wide eyes. “Run?” he offered.

“She should go on her own-”

“Yeah, sure,” you shrugged. 

You didn’t like Oscar, but it was better than going alone. 

“What’s Richards’s problem?” he asked as you two ran the streets of  Miami in the pitch black of the night. Richard was your trainer.

“He’s just a bit of a pushover,” you shrugged. “He’s making me better.”

“He’s making you train more, relax less, and eat less,” Oscar pointed out. “Is that better?” 

“So you’re a health expert now?” you scoffed. “The gaul of you, to always assume that you know better than someone just because you can. It is fucking insane how much of an ego everyone here has.”

“Maybe you should get one,” he scoffed. 

“An ego? No thanks.”

“No, a backbone,” Oscar said. “You can’t let Lando walk all over you, he’s without.”

“Without what?”

He shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” you continued. “Explain.”

Oscar smirked. “Talent.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so strange.”

And off you went, running again. 

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P4, finally a good result, finally a result worth all the struggle, all the shit, everything.

But no one was at the barricade. None of your mechanics, no Zak, no one. Not even Oscar. You looked like a fucking idiot. Lando had DNFed. They were busy with him. McLaren was such a fucking boys club, and you didn’t fit in. You shook your head as you searched the barricade, not one familiar face to be had. Bullshit. 

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You walked back into the motorhome after all of your media duties, and you scoffed when they let out a half-hearted cheer. No celebration for you, only sympathy for Lanod, who crashed because of his own reckless driving, Lando who was totally fine, Lando. You pretended it didn’t hurt. You’d been congratulated by everyone else, every other driver, especially Danny, Liam, Yuki, Max, and Checo. They all gave you the biggest hug, told you how well you were doing, and celebrated you.  You wished you’d just stayed as their reserve driver. Maybe then you’d be something to someone. 

You stumbled into your driver’s room and found a note on your table, beside it, your favourite chocolate bar. 

Congratulations on your result, you deserve to be celebrated, but Lando sucks so we had to pretend that you aren’t incredible. I thought you’d enjoy something sweet, sorry we had to be the ones to leave the bitter taste in your mouth.

Osc. 

You stared down at it for a moment. Oscar knew your favourite chocolate bar. Oscar explained himself and apologised. Oscar was there for you, even if it was just in spirit. Oscar wanted to celebrate you. He wished he didn’t have to leave you alone, standing in Parc Fermé with no one to congratulate you. 

“Fuck you,” you said, to no one in particular. You were alone, as always. You crumbled up the note and threw it into the bin. 

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When Oscar looked at his desk in MTC the next morning and found the same chocolate bar he’d spent 3 hours searching for, he frowned. McLaren was ruining you slowly. Your mental health was falling further and further away from ‘alright’, and he seemed to be the only one to notice it. He saw you out of the corner of his eye. “Y/n,” he called. “Come here.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to him. “What?”

“I don’t like these,” he shrugged. “You should take it, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t like them either,” you shrugged. “Go give it to Lando, since you’re his bitch now too.”

“I-”

“I don’t fucking care about where your loyalty lies, Oscar, but don’t play both sides. You picked one in Imola, so stick with it,” you seethed, hitting the bar out of his hand. 

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

playing favourites masterlist

[risestarkiss]

The “Ba” in “Baja”

Rise Ramblings #628

Mikey and Leo. Baja Blast. The Tide Pod Duo. Although this duo has limited dedicated screen time, they are an absolute joy to watch. First and foremost, you can’t help but notice how Leo does nothing but try to protect the little bean.

He’ll bend over backwards just to keep his baby brother safe.

Leo will also offer emotional support in very dire times.

It’s just so nice to see them together. Plus, you can tell that Leo loves Mikey to pieces.

Even when Leo’s being annoying.

All of these traits are expected from big brother Leo. However, it’s the other side of this relationship that I find intriguing.

Let’s discuss Mikey and how he interacts with the blue one.

I’ve summarized my thoughts about Mikey’s half of their relationship into two parts: “Emulate” & “Outdo.”

As the youngest of the four, it’s natural for Michelangelo to look up to his older brothers. Yet, throughout the show, I believe that Mikey seems to emulate Leo the most.

This thought leads directly into the “Outdo” portion of my hypothesis.

I've noticed that a competitive streak emerges in Mikey when Leo is in the picture, a streak that I cannot say I’ve seen him express with any of his other brothers, April, or even their rivals. It’s unique just to Leo.

It’s almost as if there is some driving force within Mikey that wants to prove something to Leon.

When it comes to Leo, Mikey is suddenly determined to see who’s the strongest, best, or fastest between them.

(I compiled all of the Air Hockey scenes from the episode, “Mrs. Cuddles”)

The most compelling aspect of their relationship is that this competitive streak seems to be one-sided, at least initially. It's almost as if Leo feels like he doesn't have to prove anything to Angelo.

Eventually, though, Mikey goads Leo into competing with him, and Leo gives in if not but to defend his title, satiate Orange, and give his antagonizer what he’s looking for. (It’s a “you mess with the bull, you get the horns” type of thing.)

Why does this dynamic exist? Who’s to say. But I believe that the dissonance between these two comes from Leo seeing their relationship as “Protector – Protectee” while Mikey sees Leo as a rival, or more specifically, Leo is the goalpost that Michelangelo has tasked himself with surpassing.

In my opinion, the concept of Mikey seeing Leo’s accomplishments as something he needs to “Emulate” & “Outdo” is a compliment in it’s simplest form. Mikey thinks that Leo is so great and awesome that he wants to be just as awesome, and even better than the brother he respects and looks up to so much.

…Or maybe Mikey just wants to knock Leo down a peg or two.

I can’t say that I’d blame him.

Also, do you know why Mikey is the “Ba” in “Baja?”

Because Leo is the "Jajajajajajaja" *laughs in Spanish*

All right. I’m done.

[okaylikeschaewon]

Photographer: Part 3

~10k words, IU, smut, deepthroating, sex, anal, rough, degrading

Disclaimer: this fic is a bit more on the intense side compared to the rest of the series. It's a bit rough, and it's quite vulgar/demeaning.

“I’m fucked,” IU gasped as she caught glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Why would you get it in my hair?”

“No way you’re blaming me,” you retaliated while pulling your pants up.

“Yes I am,” IU snapped back with that sexy sharpness to her voice that you’ve come to adore so much in recent times. “And stop that, keep them off.”

“Babe, you have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Did I fucking stutter?” she scowled as she used a tissue to wipe her hair.

IU really was a sight to behold, standing there sporting nothing but a purple hair tie on her wrist, head tilted slightly while she tried feebly to bring her hair back to a respectable state - quite the insurmountable task in your humble opinion. She didn’t even bother sparing you a glance in the mirror, entirely focused on making herself presentable. Eventually she gave up, realizing it was futile, and finally turned around to give you some proper attention.

“What? Are you just going to stand there?” IU scoffed, crossing her arms and glaring at you, it almost felt like she was stabbing you with her sassiness.

“You’re the one who said you have a meeting,” you replied, walking up to IU, wrapping an arm around her body and slapping her ass hard, making her whole body jolt. Her expression, however, remained indignant. “Tell me. What do you want?” you asked, squeezing her ass hard.

“I want you to actually fuck me,” IU whispered into your face. “And don’t cum in my hair this time.”

“I’ll cum wherever the fuck I want,” you whispered right back at her before grabbing her head with your hands and forcing her down onto her knees.

She dropped down, barely putting up any resistance - her own subtle way of telling you that she wanted this treatment. By the time you pushed her face towards your cock, she had already opened her mouth wide, giving you easy access. You shoved your entire cock into her mouth, pressing her nose firmly against your crotch until you could feel your cock stiffen to its full size.

It didn’t take long for the blood to rush into your cock while it was inside IU’s mouth, her lips stretching from the size. As your cock grew, you could feel IU naturally pushing back, struggling with your size, but you refused to give her any form of reprieve. You held the back of her head firm, pushing your cock as deep as physically possibly down her throat. She was gagging slightly, but you didn’t care at all. Even as her saliva began flooding out of the corners of her lips, you held her mouth to your cock.

IU didn’t get to escape your cock when she wanted to, she only got to take it out when you let her. It wasn’t until she looked like she was on the verge of passing out, tears of struggle spilling from her eyes, that you finally let go of her head and released your cock. She began violently coughing, spitting absurd amounts of saliva out of her mouth onto the floor, hunched over on all fours.

“Up,” you commanded, pulling her up to her feet by her hair. “Hurry up, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“It is,” IU coughed in front of you before you turned her around and bent her over the dresser.

“You’re going to be late for your meeting,” you said while rubbing your cock against her pussy.

“It’s a bargaining technique, make them sweat a bit,” she explained, staring at you in the mirror over her shoulder.

“Maybe I should make you sweat a bit,” you teased, moving your cock away from her pussy.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” IU hissed. “Hurry up and fuck me before I leave.”

“Leave,” you called her bluff.

“Fine,” she huffed, turning around to face you.

Before she could even take a step, you picked her up and tossed her onto the dresser. You stepped between her legs, forcing them apart, and shoved your cock into her. As soon as your cock entered her warmth, you started thrusting. Your hips moved in a steady rhythm, in and out, in and out, squishing her soft pussy, stretching her out. An act you don’t think you could ever physically get tired of.

“I knew you couldn’t- resist,” IU moaned, emphasizing that last word, leaning back onto her hands, pushing her pussy towards you, giving you even better access to fuck her.

“How could I, you’re IU after all,” you grunted, shoving your hips forward with pure carnal intention.

Her tits bounced up and down with each thrust, calling out to you, begging for you to grab them. The soft squeeze of her chest wasn’t enough for you though, your body yearned for more, IU needed to be experienced in every way. You shoved your face forward and put her nipple in your mouth. By genuine mistake - thanks to how fucking distracting her pussy was - you accidentally bit down harder than intended on the little nub.

“Ow! What the fuck!” IU screamed, placing her hand on her tit.

“I’m so-”

“I didn’t fucking tell you to stop,” she cut you off. “Keep fucking going.”

Your hips reacted before your brain and began pumping into her tight pussy again. She really was so tight. She began squealing, crying out softly, screaming about how ‘fucking close’ she was getting. You kept going as fast as you could, this went on for minutes, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing in the room - anyone outside the room would be able to hear IU getting the life fucked out of her, and she clearly did not care.

“Yes baby, keep fucking going,” IU cried out, completely overwhelming the sounds of your grunts with her voice. “I’m going to fucking cum, don’t fucking stop!”

“I won’t,” was all you could huff back as you were starting to sweat with exertion.

It was getting difficult, your body was starting to go numb, your vision getting hazy, your own orgasm nearing already. Yet IU’s pussy was giving your cock all the energy it needed to keep pumping into it. You were silently begging for IU to cum already, pushing yourself physically to keep going - if it didn’t feel so damn good you would have been done by now.

“I’m close,” you gasped, unsure if IU even heard you.

She had her eyes shut tight, face squinted in pure ecstasy.

“Fucking cum already,” she cried out, rubbing her clit rapidly with her hand. “Fuck-”

Greed took over, she was just too pretty. You just needed to cum in her mouth - something you’ve taken an intense liking for recently. It didn’t matter how much she was enjoying this, it was time. You picked her up and placed her on the floor in front of you before grabbing your cock and stroking it as hard and fast as you physically could.

IU, while still using one hand to rub herself, reached forward and grabbed your shaft, replacing your own hand. She looked up at you, made eye contact, and shoved your cock into her mouth. With nearly the same speed as your own hand, she started blowing you and jerking you at the same time, twisting her hand softly and focusing her mouth on your tip.

This went on for the longest minute of your life, absolutely obliterating your senses. You nearly fell over as your legs began to tremble, failing to hold your body up; You had to grab the dresser with one hand for support.

Seconds before you were about to cum into her mouth, IU’s grip went slack and her head launched backwards. She closed her eyes again, scrunching her face up, her mouth slightly agape as she began cumming. Her hand between her legs was still going just as fast, her legs writhing in pleasure while her back arched, sticking her tits up.

As you were already at the point of no return, you quickly wrapped your hand around hers, tightening her grip on your cock and began stroking again. With your other hand, you grabbed the top of her head, positioning her directly in front of your cock. She couldn’t do much as she was clearly completely inundated by her own delectation, but she did manage to open her mouth just a bit more. It was perfect, all you needed, and using IU’s hand as a fleshlight didn’t just take you over the edge, it launched you over the edge.

Your first torrent of cum left her face painted white immediately, earning you a single squeal as your cum reinvigorated IU’s senses. The subsequent volley of cum was near impossible to aim, barely half of it making it into her open lips, the rest landing directly onto her face. The only redeeming part was that you were accurate enough to make sure each spurt landed somewhere on her face: forehead, nose, cheeks, everywhere.

However, the goal was still to see her swallow your cum. You gave up trying to aim and shoved your cock into her mouth, letting your cock release the rest of your orgasm directly into her throat. Each pulse shooting through your shaft was met with a gentle squeeze of IU’s lips, and each pulse led to you pushing your cock deeper into her. The warmth, the wetness, the vulgarity of it all kept your cock pumping, filling IU’s mouth with an unholy amount of your cum.

As your final few dribbles went into IU’s mouth, she pulled back and took her mouth off your cock. A huge mess of cum was left on your cock - there was evidently too much for her to handle. She looked up at you, opened her mouth for a second, leading to a bit more of your white mess spilling onto her chin, She reactively brought a hand up, catching it before it fell, and shut her mouth tight.

“That’s right, don’t waste even a drop,” you moaned, giving her a second to swallow before shoving your cock back into her mouth. “All of it.”

She sucked you clean, making sure to get your entire length into her mouth, using her tongue around the entire shaft. She squeezed her lips hard as you pulled your cock, completely clean from all cum, out of her mouth slowly, the tight grip making sure none was left. Looking up at you again, she first licked the cum off her hand before she started wiping her face as well.

“Good fucking girl,” you exhaled before dropping down onto the floor next to her.

With her glistening pussy in front of your face, you picked her ass up slightly and shoved your mouth forward, sucking up any of IU’s sweet mess directly off her pussy. She cried out, squeezing your head with her thighs, but you ignored it. You didn’t care how sensitive she was right now, you wanted to suck on her pussy. Only once you were content did you back up, sitting on your knees in front of her.

“Almost got it all,” you smiled, using your finger to wipe a glob of cum that was hanging off her chin and bringing it to her mouth.

“Thank you,” she smiled back before sucking in your finger, making a real show of moving her mouth down to the last knuckle.

“Now, that meeting,” you switched up the topic as she playfully searched for more cum on her face. “You said it was really important?”

“It is,” she replied casually while looking down, finding some more of her prize that had spilled onto her chest.

“Should I go and let you get cleaned up?”

“No,” she answered, still just as casually, while wiping her tits with two fingers and bringing them to her mouth.

“No?” you repeated.

“Can you get it up again?”

“My God,” you laughed in shock. “Fucking insatiable today, are we?”

“You could say that,” she replied casually, making a point to push both of her fingers into her mouth and very slowly pull them out. “So, can you?”

“Give me a minute then,” you chuckled, getting off the floor and taking a seat on the chair you pushed to the side earlier. “Help me out?”

“Of course,” IU smirked, standing up and climbing onto you. She straddled your body, dropping her pussy onto your cock and moving her hips back and forth, rubbing your soft shaft against her body. “How’s that?”

“Fucking love it,” you moaned, taking your hands and grabbing her ass as blood slowly began filling your cock for the third time this afternoon. “Almost there, it’ll be quicker if you tell me what exactly you want me to do to you.”

IU slowly got off your lap and turned around. She looked back over her shoulder before bending at the hips and reaching back with both hands.

“I want to try again,” she said softly.

Her request was very clear, and your cock immediately woke back up. The sight of IU’s tight asshole being accompanied by this request was the greatest blessing. It had become a goal for the two of you, a goal to get past the difficulty of fucking IU’s tight ass.

“Are you sure?” you began stroking your cock. “You don’t have to do it just for me, I know last time was…”

“I’m sure.”

A drop of clear liquid had already formed on your tip, just the thought of what IU was suggesting was making your cock twitch. The two of you had tried a few times now with little to no success, maybe today would be the day you finally accomplished this goal.

“Please be gentle.”

“Absolutely,” you started rubbing your thumb against her asshole. “Still have the bottle?”

IU reached forward and grabbed her purse, pulling out a small bottle of clear liquid out of it and handing it to you. You squeezed a considerable amount of the lube between her cheeks, making sure to spread it evenly around her hole before squeezing another hefty glob onto your middle finger.

“Tell me if it hurts,” you said while grabbing her ass with one hand to spread her cheek wider as you pressed your middle finger against her hole.

“If I can’t do it, I want you to spank me.”

“What?”

“Spank me, hard.”

With your finger held against her asshole, you let go of her cheek with your other hand and brought your palm down onto her ass.

“Like that?”

“Harder.”

“Like that?” you asked again after giving her a substantially harder slap, even eliciting a small whimper from her.

“Fucking harder,” she gasped, bracing herself.

The next slap had to hurt. The way her cheek immediately turned bright red, burning up in warmth. Droplets of lube sprayed off her ass from the shockwaves you sent through her body, her thigh jiggling intensely as she fell forward and grabbed the dresser for support.

“There we go,” she gasped for air, looking back over her shoulder again. “Promise me you’ll do it at least that hard.”

“I promise,” you replied, rubbing lube over your shaft which was full-mast now. “Finger first or should we just try?”

IU answered you by leaning back and lining her ass with your cock. You helped her out as you stuck your crotch forward in the chair.

“Go slow,” you suggested once your cock was lined up with her asshole.

She began lowering her body very carefully. Your tip just barely started to enter her asshole when she stopped and hissed through clenched teeth. She held herself there for a second, composing herself, before trying to push down again. You held yourself steady, letting her do all the work, letting her try desperately to sit on your cock, but it wasn’t working. She was too tight.

“I can’t,” she panted, standing back up and bending over the dresser. “I need you to do it.”

“It’s okay,” you stood up and walked up behind her.

“You’re forgetting something.”

“Ah, right,” you brought your hand up towards the roof and swung it down hard onto IU’s ass, wincing as the second-hand pain could be felt in your own body. “Sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize, I asked for it,” IU gasped, grabbing the edge of the dresser.

Without giving her time to react, you slapped her other cheek just as hard.

“I was apologizing for forgetting, not for spanking you,” you lined yourself up with her asshole again. “Ready?”

“Mhmm,” she moaned as you had already started pushing your tip against her.

It was unbelievably tight, you could barely fit - part of you didn’t think you could fit at all. All you knew was that you were going to try, even if it wasn’t possible. After a few seconds of switching up angles, you finally managed to penetrate.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck,” IU began stammering.

“Out?” you asked with your tip inside her asshole.

“No. One second. Fuck. Ugh,” she cried out before dropping her head down to the dresser, leaving her bent ninety degrees at the hips. “Keep going.”

Her wish was your command, and you immediately started pushing yourself deeper. It was nearly impossible, this was by far the tightest sensation you have ever felt in your life. Even though almost all of your focus was on trying to get your cock up IU’s ass, whatever remaining brainpower you had left couldn’t help but relish in how fucking amazing her body felt. Part of you wanted to just start plowing her, ignoring how difficult it was for her, but you couldn’t do that. You didn’t want to break her.

“Okay stop, I can’t!” she screamed.

As quickly and carefully as physically possible, you pulled your cock out of her ass. IU immediately fell to the ground and started rubbing her asshole.

“I’m sorry,” she looked up at you, wincing in pain.

“Don’t worry babe,” you crouched down next to her and kissed her forehead before wiping her eyes. “You did so well this time, I made it halfway,” you lightly encouraged her.

“We can try again,” she panted. “Just give me a second.”

“No, we’ll try again another time,” you said gently. “You’re amazing,” you added while stroking her hair softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you answered before giving her ass one final slap. “It’s not like this is going anywhere, there’ll be more tries.”

She let out a sharp cry after that last slap.

“I don’t want to just leave like that, let me at least finish you off,” IU requested after recovering from the pain, crawling forward and pushing you to sit down on the floor. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you pulled her body so that she was next to you. Once she took your cock into her mouth, you reached your hand over and started massaging her asshole softly. It felt great after the struggle of IU’s tight asshole to just have her blowing you gently, and you leaned your head back to enjoy it. “I fucking love you.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed without taking your cock out of her mouth.

—

During the ride home, you picked up a few groceries in preparation for dinner. This meeting IU had was allegedly incredibly important, she had been talking about it all week. Part of you really questioned her plan of having you fuck the life out of her right before it, but you figured she knew what she was doing. Your job tonight wasn’t to question her, your job was to make sure your girlfriend would come home to a delicious meal, and that was exactly what you planned on doing.

After putting the chicken in the oven, you quickly cleaned up and started making the table. You decided to get extra cheesy tonight and even brought out some candles, remembering how much IU appreciated it last time. With how much she has been doing for you lately, you loved to spoil her with gestures whenever you could.

Things were actually starting to get serious. Ever since making the decision to go exclusive, things have been amazing. Both of you agreed to keep the relationship private for now, but neither of you let the idea of people finding out stop you from doing what you wanted to do; Even though you both made some minimal efforts to stay private, the two of you still enjoyed a lot of time going on walks and eating out.

It was a given that eventually your relationship would be revealed to the public. Truthfully, you were shocked people didn’t already pick up on it. Other than some basic disguises, the only time you two would be truly secretive in public was when you decided to have sex - she was a fan of the thrill. She was a fan of sex in general.

Daily was an understatement, sometimes it felt hourly. IU was regularly waking you up with a blowjob - she believed you should start the day happy. The only time she wouldn’t was if you woke up first, in which case you quickly learned that she would become extremely grumpy all day if you didn’t fuck her as soon as she woke up.

It was rare for you to not join her at work lately. Whether or was for a quickie during breaks, or simply just for support. You were almost always by her side - or at least a room away staying somewhat discrete from the rest of her staff. She had some questionable story about how she wanted a personal photographer at all times in case you were needed, but you were pretty sure most of her staff knew what was actually going on at this point.

With how much influence IU carried when she walked into a room though, it really didn’t matter what she told them. You would constantly fuck IU just for her to go back to work a few minutes later, they would never question her. If anything, her hair and makeup team was probably starting to hate you.

After just a few days of making it official, IU had essentially forced you to move in with her. You were almost never at your own place anymore, and you even considered moving in officially. The only thing holding you back was that it was still a bit early, but you did think about how much you’d save in rent from time to time.

It was a small price to pay, however, and you truly did not mind. With how much IU was spoiling you financially now, there was really no reason to complain. While she didn’t outright give you money, she was taking you on random shopping sprees and fancy dinners. Even the groceries, she gave you her card to use for them, claiming you had to use her card for the food instead of your own.

This is also why you put so much effort into small gestures like making dinner for her. Of course you could just order food, and you guys usually did, but she was a real sucker for these types of events. Not that you did it for the sex, that was just a nice bonus. You did it because you really did care for her, your feelings for this girl were getting stronger by the day.

The front door clicked and the sound of keys jingled in your ears.

“I’m home!” IU announced as she walked into the kitchen. “Oh my God, that smells good.”

“Just needs like fifteen minutes,” you smiled, picking her up into a hug and kissing her. “Figured we’d have a nice homemade dinner tonight.”

“You made all of this?” she gasped, noticing the spread of food on the dining table.

“And roast chicken in the oven.”

All of a sudden, IU started to cry softly.

“Babe? What happened?” you quickly pulled her into a hug again. “You good?”

“This is just so… thoughtful…” she sniffled in your arms.

“Whew, I thought you weren’t in the mood for chicken or something,” you chuckled while rubbing her back. “How about you go get freshen up, it’ll be ready when you’re back.”

“I love you so much,” IU sighed, giggling gently at your comment.

“Love you, too,” you let go of her. “Now go quickly, it’s almost ready.”

IU scurried off, leaving you to finish the dinner preparations. Once everything was done, you sat down at the table and waited patiently for her return. It didn’t take long before IU came back in a t-shirt and some very short shorts with her hair tied up in a ponytail.

“This looks so good,” she squealed, hugging you from behind before taking a seat. “By the way, there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about work today.”

“Work talk after dinner, I want to hear all about the meeting,” you replied while holding up two bottles. “Red or white?”

“White please,” she smiled, flashing her beautiful teeth at you.

“Just tell me one thing,” you started pouring the wine into her glass. “Did you get the contract?”

“I did,” IU picked up her glass while you poured yourself some as well.

“Then cheers to that,” you held your glass up. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled before taking a sip.

Dinner was a mostly silent affair. Other than the occasional compliment about your cooking, IU was clearly distracted - probably by hunger. Not that you minded, you were equally as hungry, and you knew there was plenty of time afterwards. You didn’t want to think about it, but it was a fact that after every dinner you’ve made for IU, the night has ended very much in your favor sexually.

After finishing the meal, the two of you quickly put away the dishes and leftovers. Once everything was cleaned up, you both found yourselves in the living room where you took a seat on the couch. Instead of sitting next to you, IU decided to drop down to her knees in front of you.

“Whoa there babe,” you chuckled, pulling her up by her arms. “I love you, and you know I want that, but first tell me about work. You said you wanted to tell me something earlier?”

“Alright,” IU looked saddened by the situation. “Can we go to the bedroom then?”

“Fine,” you smiled, standing up from the couch. “Don’t look so sad, we’ll do all of that soon.”

IU smiled weakly before following you into her bedroom. You sat down on the bed and IU, to your surprise, sat down on the chair.

“Everything alright? You know I’m going to let you suck my cock still, right?”

“Something happened during the meeting.”

The tone in the room shifted suddenly. You leaned forward, the smile disappearing from your face as you stared at IU, trying to read her expression.

“Something happened?”

“The meeting started off not exactly like how I wanted it to go,” IU began explaining. “I told you right, this contract was incredibly important.”

“You did.”

“I thought it was basically guaranteed, I thought they needed me,” she continued. “Turns out they had more leverage than I knew about.”

She paused for a second to take a deep breath.

“He said he had a few people tell him about what I used to do,” she started to get choked up. “He threatened to… if I didn’t…”

“That’s fine though, right? You told me there was protection in place, that your company was ready to disprove any allegations that could be made.”

“This was a really important contract.”

“Did you…” you hesitated, suddenly feeling a burning anger inside you. “Tell me what happened.”

“I’m really sorry, I had no choice.”

“What did you do?”

“I’m sorry.”

“What did you do?” you repeated.

“I had to… convince him,” IU stammered. “He said there was only one way.”

“How did you convince him?”

“Don’t make me say it,” IU pleaded.

“Did you fuck him?”

“No!”

“What did you do?”

“I just sucked- I’m sorry!”

“Is this why you wanted this relationship to be a secret?” you laughed sarcastically. “Un-fucking-believable.”

“No, it’s not like that!” IU protested.

“All that bullshit about keeping this a secret to protect me,” you spat. “It was actually just so you could keep blowing every cock that walked through your door?”

“It’s not like that,” she muttered, her voice quiet, eyes low.

“Isn’t it?” you snapped. “How long have you been lying to me?”

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t un-suck a cock,” you hissed before suddenly remembering something. “That time you came to me in tears right before we decided to go exclusive…”

“I wanted to tell you,” IU started to cry. “But you were so…”

“Understanding? Forgiving?” you intervened. “You probably thought I would judge you just like everyone else, you were scared of it, you didn’t know how to react when I didn’t call you a slut?”

That last word clearly stung, you could see it clearly the way IU’s lower lip immediately began to tremble followed by a fresh wave of tears.

“I should have told you the first time, that was wrong of me,” she stammered between tears. “I didn’t know that I could, but I do now. That's why I’m telling you this. I fucked up and don’t want to hide it from you.”

“Now I don’t give a fuck if you tell me,” you replied coldly. “I trusted you, and you lied to me. Tell me then, when you claimed ‘nothing happened’, tell me what actually happened that time.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” you interrupted. “I want to hear you confess. Did you fuck him?”

“No! I told you, I’ve never fucked any of them.”

“Oh forgive me for not believing everything you told,” you laughed condescendingly. “Then what, did you blow him? Did you let him nut down your throat? We both know how much you enjoy that part.”

“Why are you doing this?” IU sobbed, using her shoulder to wipe her eyes.

“Because now I know you are a slut, and I want to hear you admit it,” you answered angrily, leaning back on the bed. “If you don’t want to, I can leave.”

“Please don’t,” IU begged, taking a deep breath. “I just… used my hand…”

“How many times since you asked me to be exclusive with you?”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” IU started sobbing again.

“How many times?”

“Not many,” IU answered quietly.

“Meaning there were multiple times?” you burst out laughing. “I can’t fucking believe I trusted you.”

“Today was the first time I touched someone.”

“What else did you do?”

“Please-”

“Fucking answer the question,” you snapped.

“There were a couple clients who I let see me,” she sobbed. “They touched themselves, I didn’t touch them.”

“Until today,” you replied with ice in your tone. “Until you really needed to convince someone, that was enough to make you go back to sucking cock for gain.”

“I had no choice.”

“Stop fucking saying that!” you shouted back. “You had a choice, the choice was to not suck another man’s dick.”

“Please forgive-”

“You’re a fucking slut,” you cut her off without any remorse in your voice. “That’s all you are.”

“I thought you said even if I did something, it was okay,” IU sobbed, wiping her eyes.

“That was before you asked me to be exclusive,” you retorted sharply without hesitation. “By the way, letting people jerk off on you is also not okay. You fucking slut.”

IU burst out crying, falling off the chair and onto her knees. You didn’t care, you simply let her. There was no consoling her this time, she fucked up and she knew it. The anger inside you couldn’t be put into words, but you knew this was the end. You knew she went too far, and you were not okay with this.

“Slut,” you mumbled under your breath.

She heard it, wincing at the word again, but she didn’t respond. She just took it, like she knew that’s what she was, and she wasn’t defending herself. She couldn’t.

“Even now, I can see you still don’t want me to leave. Even after everything I’ve said.”

“I don’t,” IU sniffled before crawling forward between your legs.

She started pulling your pants down, and you didn’t stop her. You let her do it, you let her release your cock from your pants. This time, you weren’t lusting for her, this time was different. You didn’t want to make love to her, not that you could right now. If she wanted to do this, then you were going to use her. This wouldn’t make you forgive her at all, but you didn’t care.

Every fiber in your body wanted to get up and leave to never look back. Yet for some reason, you didn’t. For some reason, you sat there as IU, face covered in tears, started stroking your cock. It didn’t even take long for you to get hard, it’s not like IU stopped being beautiful, but you couldn’t see her in the same way anymore.

It wasn’t an easy decision for you, but you decided fuck it. If she was going to let you fuck her again, you were going to take the opportunity. It was different this time though because you didn’t care, at this point she was a - just barely - glorified prostitute for you. She was your tool to use, and she was seemingly fine with that.

“That’s right,” you commented as you slipped your cock into her mouth. “Do what you’re made for, what you’re good at.” You placed your hand on the top of her head.

Even as tears flowed down her cheeks, she accepted your cock into her lips and sucked with the same effort she always put in. She still managed to use her tongue in all the right ways, all that experience she had with your cock down your throat, the countless blowjobs, the excessive deepthroat sessions, they were all paying dividends right now.

“It can stop whenever, all you have to do is take my cock out of your mouth and I’ll leave,” you told her, knowing she wasn’t going to stop. You gave her an open palmed slap on the side of her face, one that didn’t even phase her more than a little jolt as she kept sucking. “You’re just hoping I’ll fuck you, aren’t you? You think by sucking my cock you’ll get me to fuck you again? After everything you did?”

She kept going, even using one hand to fondle your balls the way she knew you loved. Your cock never left her mouth, even as you started thrusting your hips forward, slamming your body against her face, smearing the teardrops against her cheeks. Her body was jerking backwards with each thrust of your hips, she nearly lost balance and fell, but her mouth never left your cock. Not until you spoke up again.

“Stop.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, IU pulled back. She waited patiently on her knees, hands on her thighs, not even wiping the mess of saliva all over her chin steadily dripping down her shirt. Her gaze fixated on the floor between your feet, waiting for your next command while her entire body moved up and down with each heavy inhale and exhale.

“So you can hear me,” you taunted her, rubbing her cheek lightly with your saliva-covered cock. “That’s actually what you want? You just want to get fucked again?”

No response.

“Stand up,” you grabbed her arm, giving it a yank so that she was standing in front of you, still seemingly incapable of looking at you. “Take it all off.”

IU wasted no time in stripping off her clothes. She stood there, completely nude now, covering up herself with her arms.

“Adorable,” you laughed as you pushed her arms away, leaving her body entirely exposed. “A piece of fuck-meat like you shouldn’t be ashamed of showing her body.”

She winced at the phrase fuck-meat, finally giving you a reaction again.

“What’s wrong, don’t like hearing the truth?” you pressed, stepping to the side of her body and giving her ass a hard slap before leaning into her ear. “Aren’t you just my fuck-meat?”

She shook her head no.

“You’re right,” you continued softly, stepping again so that now you were behind her. You reached your arms around her body, cupping both of her tits into your hands and squeezing hard before leaning into her ear again. “You’re not my fuck-meat, you’re everyone’s.”

“Not everyone’s,” she muttered under her breath.

“Why’s that? Because you claim I’m the only one who has put it in here?” you asked as you slid your cock between her legs, teasing it against her pussy. “I’m not sure if I even believe that anymore, but I do believe this one's all mine,” you let go of one tit and brought your hand between IU’s asscheeks. “Maybe I’ll try to take it one last time before you start giving it away, too,” you whispered as you pressed your thumb against her asshole, threatening to push it in.

IU exhaled heavily as you finished your lap around her, sparing her asshole - for now. She still couldn’t look at you directly as you stood right in front of her. Her face was completely wet from a mixture of her tears and saliva, but she still didn’t bother wiping any of it away.

“All you have to do is walk away, or tell me to leave,” you said casually while wrapping her hair around your fist. “This all stops whenever you want it to stop.”

Again, no response.

“Fine,” you grunted before using your grip on IU’s hair to bend her over at the hips and bring her face down to your crotch.

Without even giving her time to think, you shoved your cock down her throat aggressively before holding her head steady and using your hips to slam your cock as deep as it could go again. You held yourself balls deep in her mouth for a few seconds, pushing hard as her nose squished against your body before letting go of her completely.

She stayed bent over, hands on her knees for support, and violently coughed up spit all over the floor. Her entire body was trembling as she gasped for air. After a few moments where you did nothing but watch her struggle, she composed herself and got back up. Finally, she looked up at you with a blank expression, not caring at all about the tears dripping out of her blood-shot eyes.

“You’re really this desperate?” you whispered, using your hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. “If this is what you really want, get on the bed.”

IU suddenly broke down and started to sob, turning her head away from you again, this time covering her face with her hands. She turned around and climbed onto the bed, sitting in the middle of it in a ball, burying her face in her arms.

“Spread your fucking legs,” you demanded as you walked up to the bed.

She obeyed, spreading them wide enough for you to see her pussy. She was already drenched between her legs, within just a few seconds leaving a huge stain of wetness on the bed sheets beneath her. After aggressively wiping the tears from her eyes, she stared at you, waiting for your next move as she tried desperately to control her crying.

There was zero effort on her part to stop you as you grabbed both of her ankles and yanked her to the edge of the bed. Her back fell to the mattress and she lay there, waiting as you brought your cock to her pussy. You took your time, rubbing your tip against her body for a while before gently easing your cock into her. Slowly, you pushed forward, stretching her pussy wide until you were all the way inside her.

She started to cry again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

She nodded her head.

“Fine,” you grunted as you started to thrust your cock into her. “Then say it.”

“I-”

“Louder.”

Before she could say anything, you leaned forward and gave her another slap on the face, not as hard this time - it was less for the pain and more for the intent. IU took a deep breath before staring directly into your soul and speaking with utter conviction. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Of course you do,” you spat, picking up both of her legs and placing them on your shoulders.

At least now she had stopped crying and was moaning quietly each time your balls slapped against her skin. You decided to ignore the state she was in and focus entirely on how tight her pussy was squeezing your shaft right now. She felt tighter than ever, and you fucked her harder than ever to get through it. You had no more regard for her well-being, and that’s what she wanted.

She had no control over anything in this position - it was all you. You were relentless, smashing her pussy harder than you ever have before. Even when you’ve had rough sex with her before, none of it compared to how hard you were going now. IU felt each thrust deep in her core, each inch of your cock, each ounce of tension that you launched deep into her pussy.

It didn’t even matter if she was enjoying it, you didn’t care that her moans were those of pleasure. At this point she was nothing more than sex in your eyes, you didn’t care about anything else she had to offer. She was warm, she was wet, she was tight. She was yours. Suddenly, you started to feel her pussy convulse in a way you knew all too well at this point.

“Fuck,” she cried out softly, shutting her eyes tight.

In your mind, her orgasm had to feel better for you than it did for her, because she felt fucking amazing right now. The way her pussy squeezed your cock in these beautiful rhythmic contractions, the most ethereal sensations of gratification shot up your spine - but you weren’t done yet.

With great difficulty, you pulled your cock out of her pussy and watched as a small gush of liquid spilled out of her. You watched as her pussy continued to convulse, letting her finish before dropping her legs off your shoulders. She squirmed as you bent down in front of her and plunged two fingers up her pussy.

“Oh fuck yes,” she moaned softly as you pressed your mouth against her clit, sucking up some of her tangy mess.

It didn’t last long, however, and you quickly stood back up in front of her.

“Turn around.”

She looked up at you, hesitating for a split second before complying and turning onto her stomach. You pulled her backwards so that she was bent over the side of the bed with her feet on the floor and gave her ass a hard slap.

“I’m going to fuck you in the ass,” you informed her as casually as if you were telling her the weather. “If you want to stop, speak up.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she answered without looking back at you.

“It’s going to hurt. A lot,” you continued, using both of your hands to spread her cheeks as wide as they could go, exposing her tight asshole to the world. “I’m not going to be gentle.”

“That’s fine,” IU stuttered, reaching back with both hands to help you spread her cheeks.

“I don’t care if you scream,” you pushed the back of her head down into the bed with one hand before lining your cock up with her asshole, holding your tip against her tight entrance. “I don’t care if you cry. Unless you say stop, I’m not stopping.”

Her body was so pristine in this position - almost too perfect. You slapped her ass again, this time as hard as you could, leaving a very distinct red mark. She let out a small yelp, but she held the position with her cheeks spread for you. It was time, you positioned yourself right behind her ass and got ready.

IU’s asshole was even tighter than you remembered, even pushing just your tip into her was difficult this time. The lack of lube - if you didn’t count what IU’s body left all over your cock - made it so much harsher, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even consider backing off, your mind was set on putting your cock into her ass and that was exactly what you were about to do.

It was as if a wall broke down, and suddenly your hips lurched forward. IU’s high pitched scream pierced your eardrums as half of your cock plunged into her asshole. Her body was vibrating now, but the hard part was done, it only got easier from here. You pushed forward just a bit more before pulling back until just your tip was in her ass.

After a short pause, you took a deep breath and shoved your cock all the way in. IU screamed again, letting go of her cheeks and clinching both hands into fists. She began whimpering into the bed uncontrollably. With how intense her asshole was probably feeling right now, you weren’t even sure if she felt the next slap of your hand against her ass leaving another mark.

Your cock was fighting for its life against the tight squeeze of her asshole. After a couple of short minutes, you had gotten used to how unbelievably tight she was, and it was starting to feel incredible. You used your hands to hold her tiny body, giving you better leverage as you shoved your cock into her asshole.

Her asscheeks squished against your thighs so beautifully each time you pumped into her. The rhythmic ripples of her skin each time your bodies made contact was hypnotizing, you couldn’t take your eyes off her body. The way she lurched forward so aggressively with each thrust was beyond beautiful to you.

The way her initial piercing screams had been entirely replaced by whimpers. Initially, you were pausing after every few thrusts, giving her a chance to make it stop - an opportunity she never took. Once you realized she wasn’t going to quit this time, you let go of all ideas of sanctity. IU’s asshole was yours for the taking now, and you were going to take it.

She deserved credit. You knew her asshole was burning right now, it never really loosened up for you. Each thrust was difficult, but each thrust felt so fucking good. Her pussy was tight, but her asshole was impossibly tight. Yet here you were, forcing the impossible to happen with the power of pure lust.

Your cock loved it more than you ever could have imagined. At some point, IU’s whimpers had once again turned into screams, but you could barely comprehend anything in the world right now other than the orgasm that was quickly approaching. The screams began to die down again, or so it seemed like they did. Even the whimpering was gone at this point, it was just the sound of your cock penetrating her asshole now.

IU’s entire back was flexed, her toned body trying desperately to hold on and survive the attack. You had no idea how she was faring anymore, and with how phenomenal it felt, it was honestly hard to care. It seemed like she was using every ounce of strength in her body to hold on, but it was hard to believe it was enough.

Just a bit more, you could feel the end nearing. IU’s body must have felt it too, because she was finally starting to loosen up just slightly - or perhaps the relentless attack on her tight asshole was finally becoming too much, or perhaps her body was finally starting to adjust to the brutality of your thrusts, or perhaps her body was giving up. All of this was secondary to the fact that you were probably seconds away from blowing.

It was time, there was no more holding back, and you knew exactly where you wanted to finish. You swiftly pulled your cock out of her asshole, giving her barely enough time to gasp in relief before she squealed as you grabbed her hair and pulled her backwards. You yanked her off the bed and onto her knees in front of you, facing away from you. Then you pulled her hair harder until her head was tilted upwards towards the roof. You took a step over her and pushed your cock straight downwards into her mouth.

The bulge in her neck was so well-defined as your cock invaded her throat, you could so clearly see the outline of your cock. You pushed down until you felt your balls make contact with her nose before grabbing the sides of her head with your hands to hold her steady. It only took three, maybe four - who’s really keeping count - half-thrusts of your cock before you felt yourself start releasing a slurry of cum straight into IU’s throat.

“There we fucking go,” you moaned, leaning your head back as the pleasure became too much.

Your cock stayed in her throat for a whole minute, still unloading more and more cum into her. It felt so fucking good that you didn’t care one bit that she was gagging on the sheer volume of liquid. She was physically overflowing, the cum was spilling from her lips faster than she could swallow it.

As you moved your cock up and down slightly, the cum that spilled out of her lips was being spread around her face, some of it spilling down her neck, some of it spilling onto her nose. You didn’t care. It wasn’t until you felt the final dribble of cum leave your body did you finally take your cock out of her mouth.

IU immediately fell forward onto her hands, coughing violently again. She gasped sharply for air before coughing and spitting. Her body was still shaking as she balled herself up on the ground in fetal position, breathing deeply and sobbing. For the first time, you truly felt bad for her. Maybe this was too much, maybe you went too far, or maybe the post-nut clarity was just hitting really hard.

“It’s time to talk.”

IU looked up at you, a fresh set of tears on her face, in utter disarray.

“You want to talk? After that?” she croaked before coughing again. “What’s there to talk about?”

“This relationship,” you replied, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her.

She began to stand up when you stopped her.

“No, stay on your knees. It’s where you belong.”

“I did everything for you,” IU coughed as another fresh wave of tears spilled from her eyes. “Why are you still being so mean?”

“Did you think this would fix things? Did you really think you could fuck your way out of this like you do with everything else?”

“I don’t fuck my way out of everything,” IU cried, her voice completely hoarse.

“For what it’s worth,” you paused to lean forward and gently caress her face, wiping the tears away. “I don’t even fault you for what you do, it’s quite innovative in a fucked up way.”

Another wave of tears.

“I’m not going to tell anyone about us, or about what you do. I have no interest in dragging your name through the mud,” you stood up in front of her. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

“Is this… the end?” IU hiccupped.

A nod was all you gave in response, and this time you didn’t stop her as she tried to stand up. The two of you stared at each other for a brief moment before IU lunged forward and wrapped her arms around you.

“I’m really sorry for what I did,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by your body.

A sudden rush of feelings hit you, harder than you anticipated. All of a sudden your skin got warm and you felt like your heart was about to explode. You wiped your eyes before any tears could fall and then hugged IU back, holding her tightly.

“I’m sorry,” IU sniffled as another wave of sobs hit her.

“Don’t apologize,” you rubbed her back, your own tears falling now.

It took what felt like a couple of minutes before her sobbing finally started to subside somewhat. You let go of her and gently guided her to the edge of the bed before grabbing a tissue box from the side table.

“Here,” you held it out for her as she graciously accepted a tissue and blew her nose.

“I’m such a fucking mess,” IU said before tossing the tissue to the side and taking another one.

She carefully wiped the corners of her eyes with the tissue. You gave her all the time she needed, patiently sitting next to her. Once she was done, you grabbed one of the pillows and gave it to her to place on her lap, offering a tiny bit of modesty.

“That was a lot,” you said softly, pausing between each word.

“Does this really have to be the end?” she asked quietly, laying her hands on the pillow you gave her.

“It does.”

There was a long pause during which IU stared at her hands as if they were the most interesting artifacts in the world. Her legs were still trembling slightly, you didn’t know if it was from emotion or pain at this point. A part of you started wishing that she had said stop now, wishing she wouldn’t let you hurt her. Finally, she looked up at you.

“I understand,” she whispered.

Tears began running down her cheeks again, but there was no sobbing. She didn’t bother wiping them either, she just let them flow freely.

“I’m sorry things had to end this way,” she stated, an eerie emptiness in her voice. “I just want you to know I really loved the time we had together.”

“I did, too,” you replied, quickly wiping the tears that began forming in your eyes. “And I really loved you.”

Her lip began to tremble, her expression threatening another breakdown, but she held strong for the last time.

“You always know how to reach me,” she said softly after taking a deep breath. “If you ever want to.”

“I know.”

Those were the final two words you shared before you started getting dressed. IU watched in silence instead of also getting dressed. You were quick, skipping the socks and shoes before walking to the door. You paused with your hand on the doorknob and turned back to face IU one final time. She hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed.

“I’ll come back for my stuff tomorrow.”

She started to choke up before burying her face in her hands. As the first few sobs hit your ears, you walked out of the room and closed the door behind you.

---

A/N:

The final (probably) part of this series! Hopefully the ending wasn't too sad or anything. If I made this series longer I probably would have spent more time building the relationship. I did feel like things moved a bit too quickly, but hopefully I did it justice.

Anyway, future plans! I have a handful of fics currently in progress. I know I said I'd update my Twice series, but I ended up spending a lot of time planning the rest of that series out. Part of why I ended up writing this chapter was because someone left a very lovely comment on part 2 that inspired me - use that info as you will, I'm very easily inspired by positivity!

Please feel free to leave comments/asks/whatever. I might not reply to every ask I get anymore, just to reduce spam on my followers, but I do read them all. Future updates will be kinda sporatic again as I'm back to being busy with life until my next break, but they'll be more consistent than they have been (I think, no promises)!

[moonstruckme]

hello lovely girl!

this is quite specific so please bear with me, but i am deaf in my left ear so i constantly am hearing only half of conversations i am in and constantly pulling people to my right side or sitting across so i can fully hear them. in loud areas i refuse to wear my hearing aids because it’s honestly torture with how much louder everything gets and it’s quite overwhelming.

no pressure in the slightest because you probably receive at least 100 requests a day, but if this is your cup of tea, would you do poly!marauders or any marauder x fem!partiallydeaf!reader? maybe she’s just upset she can’t hear properly and feels like a burden? however you wanna spin this darling!! thanks for even reading it xxx

Hey gorgeous, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

Sirius Black x hearing impaired!reader ♡ 912 words

Sirius is talking loudly, nearly shouting, but his fingers are soft and gentle against yours. He toys with your hand like it was made for his amusement, his rings brushing against your skin as he folds your fingers in, spreads them out, runs a short nail up the length of your pinkie as light as a breeze. He smooths his thumbs over your palm like he’s flattening out the creases in a piece of paper. 

“Why don’t you just go to a different grocery?” Lily is the only one who seems to find Pandora’s story more concerning than amusing. 

“Because,” Pandora says patiently, “if I stop going, who will feed the goose? I’m not sure if anyone else does. He seems rather neglected.” 

“He bit your hand!” 

“Which makes it seem like he was quite hungry, no?” 

Without warning, music blares into the room. It ricochets off the walls, rising over the cheers of your friends as they recognize the song. You wince, a hand finding your ear. 

Sirius’ hand leaves yours. He holds it out in front of you for you to put your hearing aid into. You do, and he stores it safely in his jacket pocket, getting up and moving to your right side automatically. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” You smile at him. “Thanks.” 

He kisses you on the cheek, lips staying close to your ear. “Evans is worried about the goose being around children.” You turn your attention back to your friends, and you can see the gestures and expressions corresponding to Sirius’ account. “Rosier thinks it has a nest nearby. She’s, well, a bit unhappy that human children are taking priority. And James is back with our drinks.” 

The last part you could’ve ascertained on your own. James is carrying four cups in his two hands, seemingly unaware of the liquid sloshing out on all sides to coat his knuckles in stickiness. He peers into the cups concentratedly as he stops in front of you, passing one off to Remus before holding two more out to you and Sirius. 

“This one’s yours, babe.” He leans slightly to your right as he speaks. “No vodka, right?” 

You nod gratefully. You know James is Sirius’ best mate, but after you’d started dating it almost felt like he became yours, too. He treats you like he’s known you forever, includes you in all their conversations, and remembers things like how the taste of vodka makes you gag. He teases you like you’re best mates as well. 

“Wuss,” he says, plopping down in the spot Sirius vacated.

Sirius makes a dramatic gasping sound. “Excuse me! Darling, would you like me to defend your honor?” 

You take a sip of your drink. It’s sweet and made the way you like it. “Not this time,” you hum. 

“Fair enough.” He shoots James a faux glare, speaking to you. “Now Marl’s asking why Rosier goes to a grocery that far out of the city anyway. Good point.” 

Sirius uses his whispering as an excuse to get you close, working a hand around your shoulders and tugging you up against him so his breath warms your ear as he speaks. The conversation is interesting, as are the little comments and opinions Sirius peppers in, speaking to you as though you’re the only one in the room instead of to the group, but you find your mind nonetheless drifting away from it. Sirius’ hand is cupped around your shoulder, tightening every now and again to keep you in place when one of you shifts or his grip starts to slip. The cadence of his voice is enthralling, dipping and curving and getting enthusiastically louder before he remembers to drop it back to a hush, and occasionally on an odd word his lips will tickle the shell of your ear. 

It’s difficult to care what he’s talking about when the talking itself is so lovely. 

“Thanks for doing this.” You turn towards him, half startled to find his nose hardly an inch from yours. Your boyfriend’s lashes flutter momentarily as though it flusters him too, but he collects himself swiftly, quirking a dark brow. You wet your lips. “I appreciate the help. I know it’s not…it can’t be easy, accommodating me all the time.” 

Sirius grins at you. “Course it is, sweetness. It’s easy. I’m only translating.” 

“Well, you don’t have to,” you reply, voice softening self-consciously. “So thank you.” 

Dark eyes roll skybound before settling on you with an intensity that you should be used to but nonetheless pins you as effectively as it did the day you met. “You think I’d rather you use your hearing aid when it’s too much for you? Or leave you not knowing what’s going on? Don’t be silly, it doesn’t cost me anything to sit here and talk to you.” He stamps a kiss on your cheek. “Shocking as it may be, I like talking to you. Got it?” 

Your bashful hum must not be enough for him, because he gives your ear a nibble, a little squeak coming out of you before you can stop it. You both hear and feel Sirius’ laughter, bouncing through his chest as he pulls you closer against his side. “Oh, sod off!” he says to someone, you hope not you. He turns his mouth back towards your ear. “James has just made a ridiculous comment about PDA. The gall of him! Are you sure you don’t want me to defend our honor?”

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: things aren't looking too good, so the crew decides to open the cargo hold and find out just what you were delivering.

tw: nothing that isn't in the game.

a/n: Updates might be a bit more spaced apart, but I'm gonna see this to the end. I refuse to give up on it.

wc: 2k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

“I didn’t even wanna do this stupid internship.”

An admission into the night you're sure you weren’t meant to hear. Your insomnia grew worse, unable to get Curly’s painful screams out of your head or the plight you all found yourself. Only two months have passed, and you weren’t sure if anyone was even looking for you. Did Pony Express even have any tracking system to see if ships were down? Would they search when it was already too late? 

Your pessimism was shining through, but you tried to keep it to yourself, not wanting to smother Daisuke’s hope. It seems even he was prone to dark thoughts, but you’d be more concerned if he wasn’t worried at all. 

“If I just told my mom no I could be home right now,” Daisuke continued to mutter to himself. “Who am I kidding, I could never tell my mom no.”

“I wish you did,” you replied, eyes still closed and curled up in a ball.

“Y-you’re awake?” Daisuke gasped, but you made no sign of movement.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your face farther into your pillow. “I wish you weren’t here.” Your words were harsh, causing the brunette to hesitate. You had gotten harsher after the crash, becoming more blunt.

But you had also gotten softer somehow. Sending him mixed signals, your harsh words softened when you gently stroked his cheek, eyes finally opening to meet his own. Anger, fear, sympathy, regret, so many emotions spun in your jewel colored eyes he almost felt dizzy. 

“I wish we met before this,” Daisuke said, voice cracking as he felt pressure form behind his eyes. Shit, he didn’t wanna cry, he had to be strong, for you and the rest of the crew. 

Your fingers brushed under his eye, catching a tear that was threatening to fall. Your silence felt warm, inviting, your gaze broke him, the dam breaking as his wishes spilled past his lips.

“I wish we were back on Earth. Hanging out in my room and this all just ended up being a bad dream. My mom calling us for dinner and everything is okay.” 

He was crying now, fat tears falling down his cheeks as you continued to stroke them. Daisuke wrapped his arms around your form, burying his face in your neck as he let out strangled sobs, not wanting to wake the others.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured into his hair, gently running your nails up and down his back in a soothing manner. “You don’t deserve this, none of us do.” 

…

“We ain’t touching the damn cargo,” Swansea argued. “The hold is locked down for a reason. The only thing worse than dyin’ slowly is not gettin’ paid.”

The whole argument seemed redundant. It seemed that Swansea was the only one against opening the cargo hold. He was a stubborn old fool in your opinion. If your speculation is right, and you won’t be looked for until your ship doesn’t come on time, then you’ll all have died from either starvation or lack of oxygen. Both those options seemed terrible to choose from, but a long, drawn out death was worse than a short painful one. For all you knew, you all were shipping food, or water, or something that could keep you all going just a bit longer. Especially since the cryo chambers were out of commission (not like there were enough for the six of you anyway. Besides, Curly had no chance to survive the freeze due to his wounds). 

“But it could be something useful,” Anya argued back. “I think-”

“Could be what?” Swansea cut her off. “Hopes, dreams and marzipan? Hah!”

“Could be food,” You interjected, glaring at the oldest of the crew. “Protein bars, chips, hell maybe we’re lucky enough to be carrying canned goods.”

“If it helps us survive it’s worth it,” Jimmy added with a nod. 

“Man,” Daisuke spoke up. “Pony Express bosses really aren’t chill at all, huh? C’mon, a quick look won’t hurt.” 

You nodded in agreement before Swansea brought up a good point, “How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on gettin’ in there?”

“Oh, right here boss,” Daisuke pointed to himself with a smug grin. “You’re looking at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team! Nearly straight up corked a kid once! I can take the utility ax-” You couldn’t stop the snort that came out of you, hiding your face behind your hands as everyone looked at you with various emotions. 

“You were goddamn born fully corked,” Swansea glowered, face twisted in a harsh sneer. 

“That’s enough, Swansea,” Jimmy intervened. “There has to be an ‘in case of emergency’ way inside.”

“If I remember correctly from reading the safety protocols…” Anya trailed off. “The doors should have an alternate access code, but it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.”

“And only the captain has access to the scanner,” Jimmy continued. 

“Of course! Go ahead, just ask him all about it then,” Swansea mocked. “Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too.”

“We can just look for the scanner,” You brought up. “It’s probably either in the captain's quarters or the cockpit.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jimmy waved you off. “For better or worse, I’m captain now.” You tried your best to hide the offended look that fell on your face, but it was hard to do so when Jimmy rubbed you the wrong way. Sure, it made the most sense for him to be acting captain since he was Curly’s co-pilot, but you didn’t like the way he acted like he had to do everything himself. It was giving you ‘I need to do everything my way and feel better about myself’. 

“Right on!” Daisuke cheered, before you all split your ways. Anya ran off to medical, Swansea stopped Daisuke from following him while Jimmy probably went towards the cockpit. That left you and Daisuke to sit in the rest area, the led screen shone an image of a warm sunset, permanently stuck after the crash. 

“You really think there might be food in the cargo?” Daisuke asked, resting his head against the top of the chair.

“It’s probably wishful thinking,” You grumbled, taking the seat across from him.

“Damn,” He sighed. “I was kinda hopin’ for something other than soup.” 

“You dissing soup?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’ll take your portion too if you don’t want it.” Wait! No!” Daisuke exclaimed with a chuckle. “I take it back, I mean I love love love soup and want to eat it every day!”

“You’re such a dork,” You laughed, gently kicking his foot. 

The door slid open, halting your conversation as Jimmy walked up to you both. He stared at you both intently, and you felt a bit uncomfortable at the irritable stare in his eyes. You slowly realized he always looked that way.

“Looks like it’ll be soup again for dinner,” Daisuke spoke up first. “You wanna rock paper scissors for the chicken noodle?”

“That’s my favorite,” You pouted. Daisuke tended to make you feel more relaxed, no matter the situation.  “Ah, nevermind then,” He sighed. “It’s theirs.” Gosh, he never failed to make you feel warm either, even in your dire circumstances. 

“How much food do we have left?” Jimmy cut in, ignoring your banter altogether. 

“I’d say four months-ish,” Daisuke replied. 

“Hmm, less than the remaining air supply, but we can make it last,” Jimmy muttered to himself holding a hand up to his chin. “In theory. We’ll be poking new holes in our belts to pull that off.” The thought of starving unsettled you, but it was an unfortunate possibility. But then the question is how much air supply is left? That was something you couldn’t conserve…well, unless someone died…but even then it wouldn’t be much.

“Man, my mom will straight up stuff me when I get back,” Daisuke laughed, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “I’ll look like Swansea!” You chuckled bittersweetly, shaking your head amusedly. “We’ll have a rad story to tell,” Daisuke continued, looking between you and Jimmy with a strained smile. “They might even write articles about us. We could be on TV!” Once again there was a pit in your stomach. No matter the outcome, you were sure to appear on TV…

Jimmy also seemed uncomfortable, eyes shifting, and posture ridgid, “Uh, it’ll impress the ladies too.” You nearly broke out laughing at how awkward Jimmy was, coughing into your fist to hide it. Even funnier was it seemed he didn’t realize you and Daisuke were already in a relationship.

Daisuke looked confused, glancing at you briefly before uttering a confused, “Uh…yeah…the real problem is running out of toilet paper. Fatal stuff, man.” This time you couldn’t smother your laughter, hiding your face from the two men before you. 

“Seriously!” Daisuke emphasized, grin turning brighter at your laughter. “We should leave that part out for the press.”

“Totally,” You agreed. “Wouldn’t want the ladies to know.” This time Daisuke snorted, Jimmy nodding uncomfortably before leaving. The two of you cackled for a few more seconds before calming down.

“I thought everyone already knew we were dating,” Daisuke said, confused. “Not like we’ve been hiding it.”

“Just goes to show how much he cares,” You shrugged with a sigh. 

“You think he got the code scanner?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I’d think so,” You nodded. “Wanna head to the cargo hold?”

“Yeah.”

…

Mouthwash. 

You were hauling fucking mouthwash. 

It felt like a tiny bit of your sanity slipped away. You weren’t the only one though, everyone looking at the contents of the box in disbelief. 

“Mouthwash?” Anya asked in a shaky voice.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Swansea cursed. 

“There’s gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here!” Daisuke exclaimed. “The room looks freakin’ endless!” You felt dizzy staring at the rows upon rows of shelves, boxes stacked to the brim on each one. 

“This is what they’d have six people hauling for over a year?” Jimmy scoffed in disbelief. “All of this…for mouthwash?!” You tensed slightly at his shout, but quickly focused on Anya as she spoke up.

“The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant…” Anya informed, reading the ingredient content. Great, this was completely and totally useless-

“Disinfectant? What’re you-” Swansea grumbles. “Let me see that!” Snatching the bottle Swansea reads the contents as well. “Fourteen percent ethanol.” Suddenly he bursts out laughing, seeming a bit manic. 

“Haha?” Daisuke gave a confused laugh, clearly not understanding the implications. “I s’pose we’ll smell good at least…?”  “That’s right kiddo! You can bet your ass on that!” Swansea continued to laugh. 

“W-what are you doing?” Anya stuttered, eyes wide in concern. “Stop that!” Instead, Swansea starts to chug the blue liquid, causing your stomach to churn. 

“Whew-whee,” Swansea, sighs. “Ohhh, shut up. I’m just an ol’ codger taking care of his dental hygiene.”

“You hear that?” Swansea continues, glancing at you all. “That’s the sound of fifteen years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red hot cyst. Good riddance and cheers! To Captain Curly! Hear, hear!”

“Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff,” Daisuke mutters loud enough for us all to hear. 

“Yeah, and give you a seriously bad stomach ache,” You grumbled. 

“And kill you in the process,” Jimmy huffed. 

“This can’t be real,” Anya bemoans. “I-There’s no way…”

“Now we can go out in style,” Swansea grins nihilistically. “Daisuke! Come here! Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?” 

You felt your stomach drop, one alcoholic was bad enough, you would be damned to let Swansea drag Daisuke down with him. 

“C’mon,” You muttered, grabbing Daisuke’s hand and dragging him past the rest of the crew, head down. 

“Somthin’ wrong?” Daisuke asks once you're both back in the main hull. 

You blinked at him like he was dumb, “Seriously? This whole situation is wrong! And now Swansea’s out of commission if he’s gonna nurse that goddamned mouthwash!” You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“And he’s trying to take you down with him.”

“I won’t drink it if that’s what you’re worried about,” Daisuke mumbles softly, eyes filled with concern. 

You side-eyed him, feeling anxiety claw at your chest, “And how do I know you’ll keep that promise?”

Daisuke opened his mouth, but nothing came out, confirming your fears.

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: part four! are we learning from our previous mistakes? TAKE A WILD GUESS! after this, have one more chapter to go, and i know ive been consistently posting every week, but im afraid that the last part is going to take me a whole extra week to finish (bc ill be out of the country for a sec) so, my apologies! but i hope this long chapter makes up for the extra wait! <3

Wordcount: 6.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”

Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.

“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”

You knew exactly what she was going to say.

She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.

“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.”

You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.

But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.

Not a truth you wanted to face though.

There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.

So... you made them.

But Emily’s face remained quite serious.

“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.

“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”

You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.

Good.

Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.

“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”

“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”

“Well, he–”

“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”

“Emily.”

“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”

For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.

“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”

Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”

He wasn’t.

These were two different leagues.

But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.

It always did.

Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.

But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.

You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.

“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.

Joe had just shrugged then.

“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”

And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.

You hadn’t.

You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.

“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”  

“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”

“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.

“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.

Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”

You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”

It was a nice bag.

“Not exactly the same is it.”

No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.

“Still counts.”

“Okay. If you think so.”

You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.

“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.

Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.

You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.

“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.

“He’s– what?”

“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”

Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.

“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”

You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.

“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”

You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.

Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.

You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”

You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.

It’s been weeks.

Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”

You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.

Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.

It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.

Her advice.

Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.  

Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.

You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.

The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.

It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.

You thought she’d be the same.

You thought she’d absolutely love it.

But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.

It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.

You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.

It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.

You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.

“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”

Something is wrong though.

Obviously.

You just left someone in your bed for this.

Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.

“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”

A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.

“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”

A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.

“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”

No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.

That wasn’t the plan. 

With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.

In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.

You just want an answer.

But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.

You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.

When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.

“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”

You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.

It’s the fucking middle of the night.

It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.

“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.

“Did you close the door?”

You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.

“What? No. I–”

“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.

“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”

Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.

You go to close his front door.

In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.

Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.

“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.

You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.

“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”

Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.

He looks tired.

Which, yea, that checks out.

You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?

There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.

But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.

“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.

“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.

You turn back to him.

“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”

“Wait.”

Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.

“I’ll go get my phone.”

And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.

That’s new.

That’s... weird.

When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.

“Why did you call me?”

“Just–”

“I’ll read the text.”

In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.

His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.

“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”

“Read it.”

It startles you.

“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Read your message.”

You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.

Guilt.

Regret.

Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.

Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.

You shouldn’t have come.

You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.

“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”

You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.

He’s right.

The damage has been done.

You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.

The only way out seems through.

You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.

“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.

Read the fucking text.

You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.

“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”

“What we were together”

“Was that really as good as it can get?”

“Ever?”

You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.

Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.

Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.

Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.

And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?

Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.

What the fuck.

You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.

What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?

And why is it so fucking hot in here?

The only way out is through.

You read Joe’s text.

“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”

A non-answer.

You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.

It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.

You frown and read the message again.

For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.

It’s late, though.

You inhale deeply. Slowly.

Then, resign.

“Okay.”

Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?

Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...

“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.

Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”

He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–

“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.

Finally, you remove your coat.

“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”

“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”

“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”

“It’s not?”

“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.

Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.

“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”

“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.

It’s condescending.

Patronising.

Joe’s making fun of you.

“All right, be fucking honest or–”

“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”

You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.

Were we as good as we’re going to get?

“Imposing question, though.”

Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.

“I don’t know.”

Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.

“You don’t know.”

Typical.

“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”

You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”

And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.

You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?

“Why um... why have you been crying?”

“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”

Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.

“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”

They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.

Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.”

“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.

Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.

Wishes he could help.

Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.

Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.

“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”

And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.

“Bet she enjoyed that.”

“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”

Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.

“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.

“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”

Joe doesn’t laugh.

“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”

“Probably?”

“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”

Hmm.

You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.

“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”

Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.

The before saves it, a little.

The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.

Who knows what you’d be like now.

Joe can’t predict the future.

And neither can you.

“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.

“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”

You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.

“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”

Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.

“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”

You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.

You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.

But then Joe decides you can’t just go.

You can’t just leave.

He’s stuck.

You’re stuck.

You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.

It’s weird that you willingly came back.

Keep coming back.

And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.

But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.

He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.

Says, “Come sit for a second.”

And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.

He’s not doing anything illegal.

Well.

There’s a girl in his bed.

It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.

He doesn’t want you to leave now.

There’s a girl in his bed.

And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.

Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.

He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.

“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.

You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.

But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.

There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.

You take the blanket from Joe.

It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.

“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”

“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”

Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.

“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.

“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”

Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.

He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.

You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.

It’s warm in Joe’s flat.

And this little nest is perfect.

“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”

Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.

You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.

Neither does Joe.

Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.

But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.

You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.

You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.  

A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.

Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.

“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”

You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.

All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.

But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”

That takes minute to land.

It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?

When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.

Right.

Emily can fuck off.

You don’t deserve each other.

You deserve better than this.

Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.

You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.

This is such a mess.

“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.

You should leave.

Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.

Never come back.

Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.

But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”

You drop your hands.

Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.

You should leave.

“Um…”

Oh... oh no.

“Yea…”

Fuck.

So close.

“Yea?”

You almost had it.

“Yea. I could use a coffee.”

Almost.

---

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add yourself

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Dads, Dads, and more Dads

I did something I shouldn't have! My buds all bailed on our night out, so I hit the bar and got hammered by myself. Somehow, I ended up blackout drunk in a fortune teller's shop. I remember crying about how much I wanted a fatherly figure in my life. She did this weird ritual to make me feel better. I thought it was a joke at the time, but I know now it wasn't...

"Buddy, get out of bed! Breakfast is ready!"

A pang of guilt empties my stomach. For a moment, I stare at the ceiling with absolutely no urge to eat. It's been two days since that fortune teller put a curse on me, and I have no idea how to live with myself. I obviously can't pretend her little ritual wasn't real anymore.

"Hey, Josh," I nervously answer, stepping into the kitchen to look at my roommate.

"Can't sleep all day, buddy. Eat up!" Josh gives me an endearing smile that sends shivers down my spine.

A few days ago, Josh was a lazy, rude asshole who was only good for paying his part of the rent. We were chill enough roommates, but he only ever talked to me when he wanted a second opinion on girls he saw at the gym. The guy was easily the biggest douchebag in our friend group, always showing off and making someone else the butt of his joke.

Looking at him now, I'd laugh! If only I didn't feel so guilty for his personality's erasure.

"Look at the time! I better get moving. That yard won't maintain itself!" Josh flashes the brand new watch on his wrist. The thing is clunky and old: the kind of wristwatch you'd expect a dad to wear.

"You know we're only renting this place for the semester, right?" I search his expression for any trace of the slimy old Josh, "The landlord is supposed to take care of the yard!"

Josh just chuckles and mutters something about wanting to impress the neighbors. He even has the audacity to reach out and tussle my hair. My face gets hot as a guy, only a month older than myself, treats me like a child.

That curse really screwed up his brain. When Josh found me the morning after, something just broke in him. He immediately jumped to my side and promised to help me nurse my hangover, and it didn't stop there. After he tucked me in for a nap, he drove straight to the mall, buying a whole new wardrobe of cargo shorts and polos. I thought he was just hitting the gym like usual, so when he came back dressed up like the suburban father he hates, I barely even recognized him.

"Have a good day, buddy!"

Josh ignores my protests and plants a big smooch on the back of my head before marching out of the kitchen. It was bad enough my roommate was calling me buddy! Does he really have to kiss me like that too? It makes me uncomfortable to see my scummiest friend infused with such insane paternal instincts, but this is kind of what I asked for. Right?

I slam the back door shut and look at my rusty old bike. Today is already getting on my nerves and I'm not in the mood to peddle all the way to class. Maybe, that guy next door hasn't left for work yet...

"Oh, hey there, Kiddo!"

The deep voice of my neighbor makes me relax a little. I see all six and a half feet of him climb out of the car and stare at me with the same look Josh had on earlier. He's a father of four, but ever since my night out, he looks at me like I'm him his only real son.

"Hey, Mr. Jones," I mumble back.

"Glad I caught you, Kiddo. I was just about to pull out of the driveway," he explains, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder, "You want a me to drive you to class today?"

I push aside my feelings of guilt and manage a smile, "That'd be great."

Mr. Jones beams back brilliantly. He claps me on the back, which knocks me a bit off balance. Before I know it, he's guiding me into his passenger seat and asking me to hold his briefcase.

"Just let me text work to let them know I'm coming in later than normal," he adds while texting on his flip phone, "How are classes going, kiddo?"

I shrug off the question with a one-word answer. Now that everyone's forced to act like my dad, I get asked about my classes like twenty times a day. My thoughts drift, but Mr. Jones keeps up the conversation, lecturing me about good grades or something. I don't know how a guy who barely knows me can have so many opinions about my academics!

"You know what!" I cut him off just before he starts reminiscing on his own college years, "Just drop me off at this cafe."

Worry lines form on his forehead, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you the whole way?

"No. Just give me some cash."

Mr. Jones gives me a look of disappointment before shimmying his wallet out of his khakis. He counts off forty dollars and hands it over.

"Can I have a little more?" I press quietly.

Look, I know it's wrong to abuse this bizarre new dynamic between us, but I'm a poor college kid! If he doesn't want to give me his money, he can just say no. It's not like I'm holding a gun to his head!

"Sure thing, kiddo," he gives me a dry smile and pulls out a couple more twenties, "Don't spend it all in one place!"

"Ok, bye," I awkwardly announce and hop out.

"Wait!" his husky baritone calls from the car window, "You want a ride home after class?"

"Nope! Just go back to your own life," I yell stiffly. Even though I don't turn to watch him drive off, I hear his car pull away. It's just a car, but it somehow sounds disappointed in me too. I try to swallow the growing lump in my throat and step into the cafe for some much needed coffee...

"Morning, young man. What can I get you?"

The lump in my throat seems to get bigger when I see the waiter. He's a lot hotter of a man than I expected to find in this little cafe.

Already, the way he looks at me is shifting. That curse is transforming whatever thoughts he'd just had in his head. He's feeling more and more protective and responsible for me with every second he looks at me. At this point, I've grown accustomed to the mysterious effect I have on older guys. It's only been a few days, but I've seen so many random dudes go through this psychological transition. It's like they're discovering a new purpose in life: me.

"Uh yeah, I guess a cappuccino would be nice," I mutter with a dry mouth.

"You got it, young man!" he gives me a friendly wink, "Anything else I can get you?"

I know I shouldn't push my luck, but I can't help myself with this guy, "A hug would be nice! I've been feeling a bit isolated lately..."

The waiter instantly puts his pen and paper down and holds out his arms. His welcoming smile is gone, and a look of genuine concern waits for me, "Come here."

I practically leap into his arms, and he eagerly accepts me, pulling me into his chest like it's where I belong. It feels amazing to be held by this man, even if I don't know him at all. I could stay here all day if he'd let me.

"Seems like you're enjoying the hug," the waiter eventually chuckles into my ear.

For a second, I'm confused, but then I realize I'm fully erect and the waiter can definitely feel it poking into his waist.

"Sorry!" I jump back, searching for any other witnesses.

"Hey, don't be!" he assures me, "It's a completely normal part of life, ok?"

"You're not mad?" my voice comes out more timid than I expected, but I can't help myself. I just accidentally boned up someone who was trying to be nice. What makes it worse, is that he's probably only trying to be nice because of my ridiculous curse.

"Of course not," he affirms, "I can help you take care of it, if that's ok, young man?"

"What do you mean?" My face burns red hot.

"Oh, let me show you," he grabs me by the hand and leads me away from the table, "There's no need to be ashamed of any part of your body! In fact, this part can be a lot of fun."

I'm left speechless as the waiter gives me another fatherly wink, but I can't linger on what he's said. I'm being pulled into the men's restroom. I hear the click of the door locking behind us as he pulls me in front of the mirror, sliding up behind me. I can feel his chest on my back and his thighs against my ass.

If I was hard before, I'm practically bursting now!

"It's time you had the talk, young man," he calmly speaks in my ear like this is a completely normal thing for a waiter to do.

He starts droning on about men, women, sex, and where babies come from, but I'm not listening. I obviously know what sex is, and I think I'm having it right now. His hands slip under my arms and wrap around my waist to unzip my pants. My rock-hard cock bursts out of my jeans the second they're open, and a moan of surprised ecstasy fumbles over my lips just when the waiter gets to his point on male anatomy.

Does the waiter really believe a dad should do this for their sons?

He starts talking me through how to jack off. He must think I've never masturbated before, and I'm sure as hell not telling him that I have! Hearing him narrate every wrist movement, every ball tug, every nipple pinch is just too much fun! Before long, the waiter has me violently shooting on our reflections in the mirror.

"And there you go," he pats me on the back while I stand there stunned. The waiter steps back and looks at me like he's proud of the great life lesson he'd just taught me, "Now you know how to get rid of those boners of yours. Let me go get your coffee started."

I stand in the bathroom, collecting myself, as the waiter finally tends to my coffee order. This dad-curse the fortune teller gave me might be more fun than I originally thought. If I can get one daddy to randomly jack me off, then who knows what else I can do! Rushing out of the bathroom, I already have so many ideas flooding through my head...

"Excuse me, sir!"

"Sorry!" I shout.

In my excitement, I almost crash into the cafe's porter. A little less graceful, and I would have sent every single dish crashing to the floor. Glancing at the face of my would-be victim, I almost moan when I see get a good look at him. I can tell his head is already filling up with the same artificial need to be my father.

"No damage done," he assures me, lingering back to stare at me like I'm some lost puppy.

"Don't you...um...have to bus some tables or something," I breath nervously.

"Oh yeah," he frowns, "Sorry to get in your way."

He shakes his head like he's trying to lose the strange new thoughts in his brain. I stand there frozen like a deer in headlights as he walks away. He glances back at me before turning his attention to a cluttered table.

"Wait!" I yell, "Come back!"

The busboy drops the tub of dirty dishes and rushes back over like his life depends on it. The sight of this worried hunk running back to me makes me hard all over again.

I grab him and pull him into a hug, but his arms quickly take over and support me. Once again, my boner is rock hard and poking into the body of some random guy I just met!

"You have a car?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"You want to drive me around?"

"Of course!" he yanks off his apron and puts a hand on my back.

The waiter comes back around and hands me my coffee, looking at his coworker in utter confusion.

"Cover his shift," I demand, "He's driving me to school."

The waiter nods with an open mouth. He does look completely confused, but there's also a hint of jealousy in his stare. I think he's mad the busser gets to chauffeur me around: poor guy.

The porter doesn't seem bothered to be walking out of his job. He's busy smiling at me like I'm his whole world. I slide into his humble car and tell him where my class is. Before long, he's pulling out of the parking lot and driving me to school. I use our time to get to know him. I'm honestly not all that interested in learning about his life, but I do enjoy watching him talk. It doesn't take a while for us to get to campus, but before I get out I grab his hand and put on my best puppy dog eyes.

"I don't know when you get off work, but I'd love it if you came by my apartment. My roommate is trying to clean it up, but he could really use the help of someone more experienced."

"I love housework!" he just answers, "I'll be there!"

I snicker and slam the car door shut. I might be an hour late, but I'm finally here for class. It's time to give my professor a visit...

"Yeah, I can unbutton my shirt!"

My professor fell under my spell just as fast as the others. He had a look of anger when I walked in; probably from me skipping his class, but that expression quickly warped as he looked at me. Within seconds he was rounding his desk to give me a big old hug. Apparently, he "forgave" me for being so late.

"You like what you see?" he asks, gesturing to his hairy chest, "Trying to check out your old man?"

"You're my old man?" I ask, kind of surprised by the goofy smile on his face.

"Well, no," he bumbles, "But I am a strong male influence in your life! I'm like your dad!"

I nod my head like he's just made a really good point, "Oh. Then you probably want to treat me like your son. Right?"

"Yeah!" he holds his arms out to animate his enthusiasm.

Professor Reid has a reputation for being stiff and demanding in the classroom, so his new personality completely contradicts his true character. The man I know would never smile at a student, let alone bare his chest to them.

"So, I'm off the hook for missing today's class right?"

"Well," he pauses, "Sure."

"Can I skip the rest of the semester?"

"What, no. I want you to have a good education, my boy!"

I creep up to him and place my hands on his hairy torso, feeling the fur and the weight of his body. Professor Reid sure has a lot to hide under all those dress shirts he always wears.

"I'm just so lucky to have a daddy like you," I purr, "A daddy who's willing to do everything he can for me."

My professor grabs my arm and stares into my eyes. With a serious tone, "I am willing to do everything for you, my boy."

"Alright," I smile, "You should give me private lessons then..."

"What a great idea," he's back to grinning like an idiot.

"...and you should always do it in your underwear!"

"I can do that. From now on, I'll be stripped and ready before you come in!" He smiles at me like this is the best decision he's ever made in his life.

"Alright, now pull the rest of your clothes off," I command, "I want to see what the rest of my daddy looks like."

Mr. Reid doesn't hesitate to start stripping in front of his favorite student. I could probably get this guy to do anything now. I can already imagine our private lessons; me lounging in his leather armchair and him on his knees with his mouth full. Maybe that curse isn't a curse at all. Maybe it's actually a gift...

"Hey, buddy! How was class today?"

Josh looks tired from a long day of yardwork, but he still seems excited for me to come home. The lawn looks immaculate compared to our neighbors', and I have my roommate to thank for that.

"The grass looks great, dad."

"Dad! Woah!" Josh yells ecstatically, "Buddy, I can't tell you how much it means to hear you say that."

Josh sweeps me up in his arms. Apparently, it doesn't bother him to be the father figure of a guy only a few months younger than himself. It doesn't bother me anymore either. I kind of like that he smells like aftershave and bacon now instead of weed and sweat.

"Let's go inside, buddy. I'll cook something up for dinner," Josh says with a hand on my back. I'm already growing so accustomed to being guided around everywhere.

"Actually, I invited a guy to come over," I admit, "He can cook. You should relax. You got a lot of work done today, dad."

"I did, didn't I?" he smiles proudly, "Let me grab a beer, then. We can watch TV."

"Actually, I thought there might be something else you'd enjoy."

"You know me so well, buddy. What are you thinking?"

"You could bend over the couch..."

Josh cringes and shakes his head. Once again, it's like he's fighting the foreign thoughts entering his head.

"...I know how much you like to make me happy, and I really want to pound ass right now."

For a second, a look of horror flashes over his face, but it's gone in an instant. A bright fatherly smile spreads between his cheeks.

"That sounds perfect, buddy. Enjoy yourself."

Josh doesn't look away as he unbuttons his cargo shorts, smiling at me with love and devotion the entire time. He seems completely relaxed as he bends over the couch, and he only seems to become more comfortable as he spreads his cheeks apart.

Once again, I'm rock hard as I stare at one of my dads. This curse might have made me feel guilty before, but Josh said it himself.

I think I will enjoy myself.

Thanks for the ASK, Vebrendos

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 3: toenze

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1.5k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm sick and not doing ok but jay and toenze always is on the brain </3

previous | masterlist | next

The last thing you expected to see today was Jay with an electric guitar. But here you were, standing in the Sanctuary Café in front of their live music stage, where Kai’s band was setting up. And he was a part of the band.

You had stumbled inside the coffee shop late, and the guys were already half-way through setting up. Not a single thing had been out of the ordinary when you came in. It was your boyfriend and his three other band members, each getting ready for practice. You greeted them with a smile and side-hug each, and it seemed like it would go the same way any other practice had gone before. 

But then someone new entered the shop. Dressed in a grey hoodie and flannel, your eyes widened at the sight of Jay. He held a guitar case in his right hand, and you thought, okay, maybe this is just a stupid coincidence, but then he noticed you, and he started walking toward you. So you thought maybe it was because of you.

And then Taerae spoke up, “Jay, hey! I’m so glad you could make it.”

You glanced at Kai, whose expression was just as puzzled as yours. He had no idea as well.

“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me.” Jay’s lopsided grin made your heart skip a beat, and you had to take a step back when he was close to the stage. “You guys were looking for a second guitarist?”

“We were?” Kai asked, giving Taerae a pointed look. The boy shrugged with a smile, unaware of the happenings between Kai, Jay and you.

“Yeah, I met Jay at a guitar shop, and heard him play. He’s actually really good, so I thought I’d ask him to come by. Honestly, I’d like to focus on vocals sometimes, so a second guitarist would be useful.” Taerae shrugged, giving his painfully sensible reasoning that nobody could refute without sounding like a petulant child. 

“I mean, I have nothing against it if he’s as good as Taerae says he is,” said Beomgyu, eyeing Jay. “But the girls are mine,” he joked, although his glare felt a bit too realistic.

“Yeah, I don’t mind either. We could use another visual, too,” Yujin reasoned. 

“Kai? It’s already three to four.” Taerae looked at the drummer, and he sighed in response. 

“Can we actually hear Jay play before we make any concrete decisions? Because right now, it’s all just opinions.”

Yes, that made sense to do. You nodded despite having nothing to do with the band and its decisions. But you knew that Jay truly was a genius when it came to playing the guitar. You’ve heard him play more times than you could count, and occasionally, those performances were specifically for you over video call or in person. You always loved listening to Jay’s playing and singing. 

When Kai glanced at you, he understood as much from your expression, and a small frown decorated his lips. He shouldn’t be jealous, he was the one dating you, yet the knowledge of everything that transpired between you and Jay, and your feelings for him made him scared for what could happen if Jay got his head out of the gutter and realised that maybe, he was also in love with you. 

“Okay. I can play a song I’ve been working on with Heeseung,” Jay said, getting his guitar out — it was Jane. With Taerae’s help, the two quickly set it up and connected it to the speakers.

When Jay started playing, you immediately recognised the song. It wasn’t finished as far as you were aware, but Jay and Heeseung had been working on it for quite a while. The song, Paranormal, meant a lot to Heeseung especially, so he wanted to make sure every single detail about it was perfect.

To you, it sounded amazing already, but considering Heeseung’s perfectionism, he probably always thought of something that wasn’t quite right yet. 

When Jay was done, everyone around him started clapping. Including you. There was no denying his talents, and Taerae was especially proud of being the person who brought him here.

“So, you write your own songs too?” he asked. 

“I’m still struggling with writing decent lyrics, but other than that, yeah.” Jay nodded, glancing at you. There were times you helped him write a few lines here and there, so you averted your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. 

To be completely honest, what you and Jay had, to you, did not feel or seem casual in the slightest. Even Kai thought you two were actually dating at first. But that was the kind of person Jay was. Sweet, caring and affectionate without thinking much into it — he didn’t do it on purpose, it was just what he was used to. Small acts of kindness or even bigger ones, to him, were something he did because it was the normal thing to do. So what he perceived as casual was seen as so much more to anyone looking from the outside. Or to the one on the receiving end of it all. But you understood Jay better than anyone, unfortunately. So you couldn’t even delude yourself into thinking that confessing would lead to something. 

Letting go was the much better option. 

You were grateful for Kai. For being your anchor and for giving you the strength you needed to tear yourself away from Jay. 

“Then it’s decided, right?” Taerae looked at his band members, a proud smile gracing his lips. 

Beomgyu and Yujin agreed with eager nods, but Kai sighed. Glancing at you, he noticed you were already watching him, your smile supportive of whichever decision he made. 

And, to nudge him along, you said: “He is really good.”

“Ugh, fine,” Kai mumbled. “Would be a waste not to let him join if that’s what he wants.” Shaking his head, Kai’s attention was more on you than Jay.

“Welcome to the band!” Beomgyu exclaimed, instantly going in for a handshake with Jay. “I look forward to working with you.” The bassist faked a serious tone. “But seriously, though, the girls are mine.”

“Literally no girls want your loser ass,” said Yujin, rolling his eyes.

“You little—” Beomgyu put down his bass just to chase after Yujin who started giggling, running around the café in an attempt to escape.

Taerae and Kai laughed, shaking their heads. You, on the other hand, bit your lip and headed toward Jay while steeling yourself from whatever the conversation might lead to. 

“So, you want to join Kai’s band all of a sudden?” You raised your brow, and Jay looked almost puzzled that you spoke to him. Though he recovered quickly, nodding.

“Yeah, sure. Why not, you know? Taerae asked, and I didn’t feel like saying no.”

You hummed, a little in disbelief over the whole situation. You doubted Jay didn’t have any ulterior motives for joining the band, but you didn’t feel like bringing it up now since the likelihood of Jay actually telling you was little to none.

“It’ll definitely make it easier to find someone else then, since girls do love guitarists,” you commented with a light chuckle.

Jay smacked his lips together, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m really looking for any casual hookups anymore,” he said, which took you by surprise this time. “I’ve been wasting too much of my time not committing to anything. So it’s time for a bit of a change.”

“For joining a band?”

“For committing myself to something I love,” said Jay, a smile gracing his lips as he stared at you. There was a spark in his eye as if he could sense the way your heart skipped a beat, but then he chuckled. “I want to focus more on music, and Taerae’s offer was kinda perfectly timed.”

“Right, of course. That makes a lot of sense,” you agreed, nodding dumbly along.

“Why? Did you think I did this because of you?” Jay’s tone was teasing. He tilted his head and raised a brow at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into the signature lopsided grin of his that revealed his dimple. 

Your brain stuttered as you stared at him, blinking excessively. “No. No— obviously, not. Why would I think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you know that I missed you? You said we’d be friends but then you’ve barely spoken to me,” Jay explained himself, pursing his lips. “So, you could be thinking that.”

“I was not thinking that.” You furrowed your brows. “But you should’ve told me. I thought that since you’ve barely texted me that you don’t want to hang out as much anymore.”

“That’s not it, I just— I don’t know…”

“You can always talk to me about anything, Jay. That’s what friends are for,” you said, smiling thinly. “I’m glad you finally decided to pursue music, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jay said. 

“Okay, guys, stop messing around. Let’s begin practice!” Taerae exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Jay, can you follow my lead?”

tags: @moonpri @addictedtohobi @samsayssam @sillydallyz @semisemirin1i82

[postmoe]

Borisin Warhead Hoolay x Reader - All You’re Good For

: cum, piss, degradation, blood (lil bit), aphrodisiac, Hoolay is a gross meanie :( , but he’s also a powerful tyrant so :)

This was all written on my phone during sleepless nights haha I can’t fix the spacing ;-;

It’s hard being a foxian in this world run by borisins. Allies are far and few between, even amongst your own kind. All it takes is one threat, one little push and you’re being sold out or used in the worst ways.

It had been days and you’re exhausted, paranoid and running on nothing but a few berries you have yet to see if are poisonous. It’s been a few days and nothing, so you’ll try some more tonight… if you make it out alive.

You were part of a group of foxians that plotted to run from the farm you were held in, what’s started as 11 now dwindled to five as most of you were either captured and killed in the escape or gotten too sick and died along the way. It had been a plan in the making that would have been perfect, had it not been for one factor:

Hoolay was coming.

Everyone knows the visit of the borisin warhead always lead to large feasts, having most of the ‘stock’ dead by morning. It was either make a break for it then or succumb to certain death.

So, you fled. Which leads to now, having you shaking beside the campfire, fingers anxiously brushing through matted knots in your tail, and the four men now looking to you like you were a burden.

“All I’m saying is that there’s no use having dead weight when borisins could jump on our tail at any second. We all play a part in this pack, but, what do you do?” One stated as though it was a matter of fact, hand held out in expression.

It was true you hadn’t really contributed much, though one could argue you found the berries, you were the only one brave enough to try them. You did plan on sharing if they were safe; that’s out the window now. Your lips thin as you refuse to make eye contact. Trauma has rendered your vocabulary useless, you don’t remember how old you were when you last spoke. Now, only pitiful sounds are able to escape your mouth, little hums and grunts of pain.

They took this as another sign of weakness, one of the other foxians scoffing, “You won’t even make conversation with us? We want someone we can rely on, not a pet.”

Everyone seemed to have different opinions of your value, all of which lead to one conclusion: you’re useless. It wasn’t until the fourth of them spoke that anyone even considered otherwise, “C’mon, guys, don’t be so harsh, you know she’s a mute. She can’t help it if she’s… underwhelming. Females are only made for one thing after all. Surely I can’t be the only one feeling lonely.”

It was that comment that made your heart pound most of all. A debate broke out of whether or not you’d be worth keeping around for something as trivial as sex when their lives were in danger. You look to starry sky above, the smoke pluming through the canopy as you think about their accusations. You were the most quiet of the bunch. You watched one of your comrades get their head stomped in right before you and didn’t even scream. One of the men here almost got everyone caught because a centipede crawled past. All in all, it could only be boiled down to blatant sexism. Their entire lives they’ve been slaves, and now there’s a taste of freedom and they want to turn the tables.

You’re being regarded again, everyone awaiting your answer, “So, wanna spread them legs and we’ll keep you safe? Cmon baby, you can trust us to protect you.”

It was a no brainer on your part, though you’ve never been one for conflict, you were prepared to fight them on this. Exhausted, paranoid, starving. You a pop a few berries from your pocket and into your mouth, thinking this might be your last meal if things go south as you shake your head in a silent, ‘no’.

The main perpetrator loses his smirk, obviously not amused by your response. He stands and cracks his neck, “No? I think you just need a bit of encouragement, baby.”

Immediately, you stand to take the defensive against him. You wonder if you could outrun them, given that you’re all in the same state of distress. One of the first foxians stands too, holding his hand out in hesitance, “W-whoa, hold up. Don’t start a fight here. Besides, you can’t just force someone to have sex with you.”

Another stood up, following the others straps as he comes to crowd you, “No no, I actually agree here. I think she needs to show us some gratitude.”

The last one merely sat in silence, avoiding his eyes from the scene, looking visibly uncomfortable but not wanting to step in.

Your eyes darted between the two approaching and you threatened by taking a deep breath, mouth opening as if you to scream. Their eyes panicked, not wanting any sound to alert unwanted attention. Regardless of their beliefs on your voice, they didn’t want to risk it.

A slight freeze from them was all you needed, you turned tail, beginning to run when a critical mistake caused your foot to get caught on the log you were sitting on. You went tumbling down, only barely managing to turn on the ground when you were tackled by your former comrade. His hand already over your mouth as he laugh, straddling you, “See? Pathetic! You can’t even run away by yourself. You need us.”

Your hands tense as your nails sharpen, ready to thrash when the other grabs your right wrist, pinning you down. Not long after, the first one grabs your other, his instinct telling him this was better than having you fight back and alert their position.

It wasn’t until his hand trailed under your shirt and caressed the bare skin of your stomach that something truly snapped inside of you. Pupils dilating, mind quieting and teeth sharpening, you managed to tilt your head enough to bite painfully into his hand, blood quickly spilling from the punctures.

His scream was loud, startling, the one on your right wrist jolting enough for you to wrench your arm away. Just as you were about to scratch at him, he gave you a swift punch to your face, nose cracking and pooling blood over your mouth. It disorientated you enough for him to grab at your throat, holding you down, “Fucking bitch. Maybe it’ll be easier to use you if you’re not breathing.”

His taste for violence was the perfect opportunity. As his face drew closer and no one retrained you, thinking you were knocked out enough to not need it, you thrust your hands to his head, nails digging into the back of his skull as you pushed him forward and impaling his eye over your thumb.

The others stepped back now, stunned and scared, leaving you to leap forward before he could recover and drive your teeth into his throat like a wild animal. Frenzied, scared, hurt and adrenaline coursing through your veins, it was enough to drive anyone to do drastic things.

You didn’t notice the rustling of bushes, the way your comrades bolted from the scene. Too busy focusing on ripping his throat out and showing him that you’re not just some foxian that’s going to roll over and heel. Tears streaming down your cheeks as the taste of blood came rushing over you, you are going to fight, too.

Once he goes limp is when you stop clawing and attacking, sitting back with a squelch as you reach up to wipe the water from your eyes. You were drenched. Blood painted from the lower half of your face, down your throat and over your teeth. Nose bruised and broken and leaking. Nails filthy and you’re sure there is flesh under them. You’re not a killer. You never wanted to be a killer.

And then the clapping began. Thuds of heavy footsteps rush past you as you look up, paling and almost vomiting from the surprise. There’s no mistaken that the borisin that stands before you now is Warhead Hoolay, and beside him is his right hand man, Mok Tok. The pack with him was chasing down the others that ran before.

Hoolay seemed very amused, crouching down and grinning as he picked up the foxian’s head by the ear before letting it hit the ground again, “Only the strong survive. This whelp was nothing more than all bark and no bite. You, however,” he gazes back to you, standing, “I’m impressed. Even foxians in the fighting ring have more compassion. You truly didn’t hold back.”

Running isn’t an option. In the fight he had gotten a few good hits and kicks in, your ankle throbbing in pain. Not to mention the stench of blood on you. Foxians had a great sense of smell - Borisins, an even better one. Your only option is to fight, and even you know the single outcome here is death.

Mok Tok stepped around, standing behind you as he examined your state of well being. He hummed gingerly before saying, “Dine in or take away, master?”

Another once over from Hoolay had him walking over to you. He didn’t have a care in the world, hand larger than your head reaching out towards your face. It was enough for you to kick into gear, using what was left of your strength and latching onto him with all the fight you had left. Your teeth barely dug through the fur on his paw, nails only strong enough to hold you to his arm without so much as pricking blood, your legs feebly kicking into his large chest. It probably felt more like a massage than any form of pain.

You tried with all your might and the only response you got from him was a boisterous laugh. He easily yanked you off and threw you to the ground, rolling until you hit Mok Tok’s foot, “Take away. This one amuses me, see to it she doesn’t succumb to her wounds.”

In no time you had some form of metal around your neck, clasping with the rattle of a chain. You’re dragged a few feet before being hauled onto your aching souls. Mok Tok handles you with little care, tugging you to a pace you couldn’t keep up with.

…

It was only you, the bystander foxian that didn’t stand to help, and the initial foxian that tried to keep everyone quiet that remained. The lackey of the culprit you fought had been tied at the end of your chain link, only to fall to his wounds and die on the road. The borisins had snapped his portion of the chain off like it was nothing, leaving his carcass to rot in the mud.

You were at the front of the line, trudging behind Hoolay and his bitch boy with your hands cuffed in front of you, connected to a chain on the thick collar around your throat. A longer, thicker chain trailed behind you to the others, walking in a single file.

It was quiet, the night turning from black to the blueish hues of morning. In the distance thunder rumbled, promising the relief of rain to come. Your feet were filthy from the mud, having lost one flat, uncomfortable shoe days ago and tossing the other at a wild animal that tried to bite you. It turns out bare feet was only marginally more uncomfortable. At least the dirt of the road and squelch of the mud was nicer than sticks and brambles in the forest.

Every closing of your eyes almost had you tripping in sleep. You tried not to blink but since the adrenaline was wearing off, all the pain and exhaustion was coming forward tenfold. It was probably stupid, but the man behind you decided to try their luck with a conversation, “Are we-“ they coughed, their voice a lot scratchier than you anticipated, starting again when they noticed their ears pricking back to listen, “Are we going back to the farm?”

Mok Tok was the first to sneer, his scarred face glaring at him as he snapped, “You weren’t given permission to speak, whelp.”

Hoolay raised his paw to silence him, “It’s fine. Let them wonder, the smell of fear is a welcome sense.” Once the smaller borisin bowed in submission, Hoolay glanced at you from over his shoulder, his intimidating size only making you feel all the more caged in this otherwise open countryside, “The farm owner doesn’t want runaways such as yourselves. You’re coming to our den. Those who can’t serve as servants will be meals before battle.”

One of the men behind you whimpered in fear, the chain slightly rattling as they quaked. You wish you could have the energy for such an emotion. You felt yourself lagging, needing to pick up the pace if you didn’t want to end up lunch for the trip back. With a pained sigh, you skipped forward and listened as they continued questioning, “Did you search for us on purpose, or was it all a coincidence?”

It seems Hoolay was in a generous and talkative mood as he humoured, “Your previous owner informed us of the escape. Such a foolish plan, don’t you know we wolves love to hunt little foxes like you? You couldn’t have picked a worse time to…”

As Hoolay spoke you were progressively losing focus. The sunlight peeked behind a cloud and pierced your eye, a strain feeling like it was hitting your brain. Your hands weren’t low enough to see if you had any surviving berries in your pocket, food maybe being a cure. By this point it was difficult to make out the words anyone was saying.

The next moment you know is your face in the mud. It’s cool to your cheeks, comforting from the recent events. Mok Tok’s voice cuts through incredulously, “Me? Master, she is just a pitiful fox. I suggest we eat her and be done-“

“Are you questioning my decision, Mok Tok? I’ll gladly fight you over it, think you can take me in a battle,” Hoolay says, already knowing the outcome.

Mok Tok surrenders immediately, breaking off your chain and throwing you over his shoulder. Your lungs are pushed of air, and though he isn’t careful in the least, you despise how warm and inviting his fur is. It isn’t long before you’re drifting off, passing out in the hopes that this is your end and you don’t have to experience another day in this hellhole.

…

It was a long ride, your trio of prisoners thrown on the back of a wagon full of leftover foxian meat when it was established you were walking too slow. Most of it was wrapped in cloth and sat on crates with misshapen ice inside to keep relatively fresh. It only became hard to stomach when one of them got hungry.

A few borisin were striding alongside the cart, keeping in pace with the quieter man of your group. They were shoving an amputated foot in his face, laughing and urging him to try it. “You’ll never know if you don’t have a taste~”

You did your best to keep your gaze away, he may be an arsehole but you still regarded the corpse’s leg with the dignity you feel it deserves. Though your kind believes the spirit moves on, it was still hard to witness in the living realm.

It seems your ignorance of the scene didn’t grant you any relief. However, instead of the group of mutts hounding him, you were graced with the mighty presence of the Warhead himself. He held out an arm to you, fingers daintily hovering before your face, calloused skin proving their hard work in life. Hoolay eyed you with interest as he said, “What about you, small one? Have you developed a taste for your own kind?”

The stains of mud and blood still remain on you, your nose only having a brief look at once you reached the wagon of ‘goods’. If your aggressive fight had taught you anything, it was that living prey wasn’t your ideal meal. You shook your head and turned away from him, hoping he would give up this pointless endeavour.

Hoolay brought the arm to his maw, ripping the flesh and chewing loudly, as if to accentuate just what exactly he was eating. Without warning, his sharp claw drags roughly from the base of your skull and down your neck, stopping between your shoulder blades when you jumped forward in shock, the chains rattling as you eyed him with malice. Whatever he saw in you made his lips part in a smirk, then he laughed loudly, the rest of his pack watching their leader toy with you in silence. “What do they call you?”

Even if you could talk, you wouldn’t want to tell him your name.

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh? Even still defiant over such a simple question?”

Mok Tok was clearly more offended than his leader, “How dare you ignore our Warhead Hoolay! Master, please allow me to show this whelp just how grateful she should be-“

Sensing the growing tension, your other prisoner comrade interrupted fearfully, “Sh-she doesn’t talk, lord warhead. She’s been silent for as long as we’ve known her.”

This seemed to interest Hoolay even more. “Oh?” With ease, he jumped onto the wagon and sat opposite of you, right next to the prisoner who had spoken on your behalf. Teasingly, he caressed his face with the back of the foxian’s hand, “Then you can tell me. What is her label?”

Shakily, he looked to you as if you could help, too scared to move away from the amputated hand. You merely shrugged, then sure what to tell him, so he said what he could best remember, “I think… I think she was part of B block so… it may have been B132.”

You’re not sure with how you got away with not being branded. Perhaps it was because you kept your head down and didn’t cause trouble, mixed with the fact that they forgot. The farm wasn’t the best run, order and structure not something they’d place in their résumé.

Hoolay looked back to you, “Is that correct?”

Again, you shrug. You were told it once and then never again. The only ones who really remembered were the branded ones.

Hoolay picks at his fangs with the nails of his meal, humming in thought before tossing the arm far away into a field, “I suppose it matters not. Servants will be renamed, as will food.” Another amused rumble comes bubbling from his chest as he stands, a large paw grasping your injured face and turning it from side to side, making you wince as he growls lowly, “Food always tastes better when there’s… personality.”

You took that as an omen for your future.

…

The rain and humidity was a horrible combination, though you found yourself enjoying it more as the grime was sort of washed from your face and your wrists were lubricated from the blood that was washed down. Quietly, you had been working on wriggling your hands out of the cuffs to give you some more space to work with when you try to escape again.

There was nothing you could do about the choker around your neck, however if you could at least get your hands free then you’d have the ability to use the environment around you easier. That, paired with the fact that your chain was no longer connected to the others thanks to Mok Tok, you think you had a fighting chance.

Or else you’re condemned to be food.

It stung, the way your flesh ripped and teared when you shimmied it back and forth in the metal. The others had seen you but didn’t speak up, thankfully, not wanting any of their attention.

You felt sick with anxiety when the new blood made it easier to pull through, almost slipping out, your bones bruised and aching before you pushed your hands back in to avoid them being freed completely.

The rain had lessened, which wasn’t ideal but you could tell it would stop soon and you wanted to go with as much covering as possible. You were in another dense forest, it would be the perfect time. So, you got work, stomping your foot on the wagon to get someone’s attention.

It was Mok Tok who turned, glaring at you with a harsh, “What?” Your tail was squeezed between your thighs, jumping up and down to indicate you needed to pee. He seemed he was about to refute it when he had a second thought, turning to Hoolay and saying, “Master, the last toilet break for the prisoners was 12 hours ago. Shall we stop once more or wait until we arrive to the den?”

Your stomach dropped, did that mean you were close to their home? It really was now or never. Hoolay looked back to you, and you tried hard to show how desperate you were to go. He motions for everyone to stop, coming to you, “Fine. You two take the other prisoners. I’ll handle this one myself.” Like a giant claw - and you suppose it technically was - he grasped you by the top of your head and lifted you from the wagon, placing you down in the mud, your toes sinking into the mushy soil.

He had to nudge you to walk as you panicked. Why was splitting you up now? Every other time it has been one borisin watching you three, you were counting on that to have their attention diverted. Now the Warhead himself wants to watch you pee?

You get a considerable distance before he stops, staring at you with a heavy gaze. When you make no move he scoffs, smiling with a row of sharp teeth and a flick of his tail, “What, you can piss in front of my grunt but not me? Do I really make you that uncomfortable?” His voice lowers to a dangerous octave, “You flatter me.”

Now’s not the time to play his games. You turn around, using your tail to lift up the long, tattered dress that was uniform for everyone at the farm. Due to the first toilet break, a borisin had ripped your knickers off and tossed them so they wouldn’t have to keep doing it whenever you needed to go, so all you had to do was squat and bunch the cloth in your hands once you were low enough to reach. You glanced over your shoulder, seeing him watch you with boredom, huffing and averting his eyes lazily.

That was the best you were going to get. From this angle, it could be seen as you adjusting your clothes again, yet you were slipping your damaged wrists out of the cuffs. It was a little harder since the last time but you managed to do it, eyeing him from the side to see him focused on the raindrops off a leaf. Taking a deep breath, you bolted head on, scurrying over logs and bushes.

There was no noise behind you. As far as you’re aware, borisin aren’t silent hunters, they like to toy with their prey. So why wasn’t he chasing you? Not that you’re complaining, you hope to never encounter his kind again-

The reason for your lack of chase became apparent as you came skidding to a halt. You were at the edge of a canyon, forest on this side and a large, dusty and rocket desert on the other. Along the walls of the canyon were layers of stairs, openings, borisin. Not to mention the foxian slaves, digging and picking, holding food out to guards. Along the floor of the deep canyon is a rushing river, fast enough to be swept away should one fall in.

Hoolay casually walked up behind you, “the outside of our den. On the inside is long, winding halls and plenty of rooms. Should you get lost, there’s no telling what your fate is.” You were still in despair when he grabbed your hand, holding it up as he brought his nose down to inhale your wounds. Your fearful eyes looked to him when he licked up the torn skin, the saliva and pressure on his tongue stinging the sores which you tried to pull away from. He groaned in delight, yanking you closer to gently bite on the flesh, squeezing more blood out, “You think I can’t smell the difference between old and fresh blood? We knew of your little plan from the beginning. Even so,” his large hand slides up your back, claws tracing your spine tantalisingly and forcing you to push into his hard chest as he growls lowly in your ear, “You still tried to run from me, a bold move. I’ve decided, I’m going to keep you, personally. I will train you from a savage foxian into the obedient pet you were born to play.”

To be dismembered or to be a pet? Which is worse is hard to say. Your chattering teeth grit, the fear turning into desperate anger. Quickly, you duck under his arm to escape, only for him to grab the base of your tail and hold you in place. So you change tactics, trying to hit the base of your heel hard enough to hurt his chest and loosen his grip. However, as your foot makes contact with his torso, he doesn’t flinch and instead grabs your ankle and turn you upside down.

You’re left flailing in the air as he carries you like meat on a hook, holding your dress between your legs as you struggle so that you’re not blinded by the fabric. There really is no use. His pack watches in amusement as their leader returns with you, dropping you back into the wagon, “This one is mine. No one is allowed to touch them, understand?”

Frustrated and scared tears stream down your cheeks as they reply with a clear, “Yes, master!”

…

You’re not sure where the others went. Once you made it over the bridge and into the den, you were given to a purple borisin who commanded a bunch of servant foxians. She had supervised your wounds being treated before ordering them to take you to the bathhouse and clean you.

No one made eye contact, no one spoke to you or each other. It was frighteningly quiet, so you kept your head down as they scrubbed your ears and brushed out the knots in your tail. The tub you were in was cramped, a wooden bucket essentially. Hoses came out of the walls and a long gutter was imbedded in the ground to drain the water out somewhere. Even if it was awkward and daunting, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to get scrubbed raw by water that was almost too hot. Even at the farm, room temperature water was the highest form of luxury.

You actually felt clean for once.

Once you were done and dripping dry, the borisin from earlier reentered with a fluffy towel. She looked you over, clawed hand throwing the towel over your head, “You know how to dry yourself, yeah? I don’t know what you did but our master has taken a liking to you. Come.”

You wetly follow her through the winding halls with plaps of your feet hitting the floors, the servants behind you trailing diligently. You were too focused on trying to memorise the path that you hardly dried yourself by the time you reached your destination. A room was opened to you, chests and clothes along each wall, a mirror standing on the floor.

One glance at the mirror was enough for you to turn your head, not wanting to see yourself as the captive you are just yet; surrounded by slaves and a vicious wolf. Out of the corner of your eye though, you saw the enemy rummaging through chests until she found what she was looking for.

When she came back, she began putting golden chains on you, hanging from a gold collar around your neck, falling down your biceps, down the curves of your naked breasts, low enough to fall just past your hips. You dared another glance in the mirror, wondering if something so cold and with no fabric could still be called lingerie.

“Done. Let’s go,” she shoved at your back, the chains clinking slightly from the jolt as she pushed you out. The metal felt kind of nice, slinking along your skin with every step you took. The collar got hotter with your body heat, being a little uncomfortable but who were you to complain when you had no rights. It wasn’t until you were stopped beside her, a VERY long table with various foods and alcohols, mainly meats and few vegetables - don’t look at the foxian torso and thighs, don’t look at the foxian torso and thighs - that were slightly skewed from everyone picking at it that you felt a shot of self-consciousness. She bowed her head and addressed the warhead, “Master, she is clean and adorned for you.”

Since the day you were born, you were taught that nakedness and privacy didn’t matter. Farm animals didn’t get that decency, foxians don’t get that decency. You can count on one hand you’ve felt the need to cover yourself in front of someone, yet somehow right now, you feel like you need to cover every inch of skin and curl up in a hole to stop the eyes of their leader from clawing into you. Everyone stopped to stare at the new meat that had walked in, yet it was Hoolay that openly ogled you like you were more than just food.

You pretend not to notice the twitching under his belt, cloth moving over a large mound that you were hoping wasn’t for you. He grinned and leant forward, hooking his index under your collar and pulling you towards him, “Perfect, you’re dismissed.”

She and the slaves bowed before leaving you alone in the room full of beasts.

“C’mere,” Hoolay demands, already pulling you tightly against him, sitting you sideways in his lap. He’s so large, colossal, from his shoulder to his elbow alone almost the size of your body. He brings a chunk of meat to your lips, demanding you to eat. When you don’t part your mouth, he huffs and wedges a claw between your teeth, forcing you to open, “Relax, it is just bird.”

Sure enough, you’re inclined to agree, taking the meat from his hand so he’s no longer shoving it down your throat. As you slowly nibble on the meat, you’re lost to the words everyone is speaking around you, their language a mix of your common tongue and their own. You’re pretty confident, however, that they’re discussing about his new prize - you - and how you’ll taste.

Hoolay laughs after someone says something, easily moving you to sit flush against his torso with your back, spreading your legs wide over his thighs. You almost drop the bird meat when you see what he’s doing, releasing the confinements of his half-hard cock to hang over his leg. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he strokes it, moving it to stand hard and leaning against your tense torso. His knot is throbbing between your legs and the tip of him is poking the underside of your breasts, you can’t even imagine what he would feel like inside of you that doesn’t involve pain.

A slave comes beside him with a platter and a golden jug. Hoolay grabs it roughly before pouring the contents over his cock, the substance oozing out and over his dick like a sheer, golden syrup. He tosses the jug away with a clank, disregarding it in favour of smearing the liquid over your thigh, lightly squeezing, his giant maw hotly breathing against your cheek, “Go on. Have a taste. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

He’s so large that there’s no way you could swallow him more than his tip. You go in for a taste, holding the heavy weight below the glands to dutifully suck. The pungent under taste that you’re expecting is overshadowed by whatever he had coated his dick in. The pupils of your eyes blow wide and suddenly you’re suckling on the head like you’re trying to coach his cock to dispel more of the deliciously sweet substance.

Hoolay laughs at you, a low, growling groan emitting as his paw pets back the ears on your head, “Fffuck. That’s a good girl.” You whimper around him when he pushes you down, choking on what little you could swallow. His pre is enough to guzzle down your throat and bubble out of your mouth, it doesn’t ready you for when he cums, buckets of semen forced down your throat and into your stomach. He must’ve been pent up because even after he pulls away, he’s still very much hard. He opens his mouth beside your head, his jaw wide enough to encompass your skull if he really wanted to, laughing at the visage, “Such a tiny mouth for a pitiful creature. I wonder if the hole between your legs will be more accommodating, hm?”

You’re lifted and placed on your back, glistening in syrup and cum under the dim lighting by the candles around the room. Everyone stares in amusement as you dazedly bring your fingers to your mouth, sucking on the digits to get some more of the sweet syrup and hoping to overthrow his taste. It isn’t until you feel a rather large tongue lick up the slit of your pussy that you jerk, a string of saliva connecting to your fingers as you pull them away to gaze between your thighs.

Hoolay’s claws touched as they held one of your thighs up, out of the way for him to get a taste. You were already so wet and waiting, the desire to consume was rushing all throughout your body. Air was forced out of you when he let his heavy cock thud against your stomach, a little cum seeping from the corner of your mouth. Graciously and carefully, he slides a finger inside you and worms it around, stretching your cunt and causing you to moan, “So defiant you were on the ride here. Now look at you, arching into my hand like a pet looking for love from its owner. It feels good to give in to instinct, wouldn’t you agree?”

Even if you could talk, you wouldn’t need to as your tail swishes side to side underneath you, as though accepting his declaration. Your stomach is so full that even with just his fingers you feel you’re about to pop. Your legs fall open for him when he pushes his cock head down your slit and into your hole. You’re so grateful he helped you with the aphrodisiac, even if you wish you hated it, you know being absolutely torn apart would be too brutal to handle.

As a mercy, perhaps for being such a good girl, he takes it slow but doesn’t stop - not until he’s reached as far as he can inside you. Your legs are now propped up and of your stomach wasn’t distended from the mouthfuls of cum before, it certainly was from the massive dick inside you now. Your cheeks puff when he puts pressure on the lump he forms, “I’m impressed, little fox. Even with the amount of syrup used, I didn’t think you’d be able to hold out.”

It’s not until his hips start snapping against yours that you cringe, the movement jostling your insides, motion sickness hidden behind layers of pleasure. Your mouth is open, panting, the cool air the only thing keeping you from losing your mind. However, as ‘kind’ as he’s been, he seems to want to take more from you. His long, flat tongue enters your mouth, you’re gurgling around the muscle in this ruthless kiss. Your eyes roll back and hearing wavers as the oxygen in your lungs is stolen away.

Heavy balls plap against your arse, cum and syrup creating an odd, warm, wet sensation over your skin. You hadn’t realised you were clawing at Hoolay’s face until he retracted, his paws holding your biceps flat in the take with a heavy chunk to hold you down. Bruises were the least of your concerns as you could finally breathe again and consciousness came back, adding with a strong seizure of pleasure corrupting your body. Your clit pulsed and your pussy tightened from the euphoric buildup of oxygen and cock breeding your insides.

A round of cheers and clinking steins was heard in the background during your orgasm, but it was too intense to care and Hoolay had no intentions of stopping. The way your cunt suckled his dick was more than enough to keep him going.

Of course, it wasn’t the last time you would cum in his cock. The way he nipped at your skin and kissed you and licked over your body like he was getting ready to devour you; it all shot straight to your aroused core. Whenever you could form a single thought, though, you would concern yourself with the inevitable worry of his knot.

Hoolay’s knot was swelling to a considerable size and pretty soon you doubt you would be able to hold him. He seemed to realise this, however, because his thrusts were getting deeper and stuttering more often as his knot struggled to enter and escape your cunt. It wasn’t too soon that his hips closely hit against yours, balls tightening and jerking with every spurt of cum. His knot kept him stuck deep inside you, the low growls and groans making you tremble. Your legs were hiked and your stomach was folded, you felt like you were going to throw up as your stomach got fuller… and fuller… “Just look at you,” he grunts, pushing himself against you and making you groan, “Fucked out of your mind, at the mercy on our dinner table. Foxians like you are only good for one thing.”

You couldn’t keep it in, with the amount he was breeding you with, and the position he had you folded in, it was only a matter of time before it came back up. It wasn’t vomit, it was more like his cum didn’t make it all the way down. The semen you swallowed poured out, as though the cum he fucked into you had overflowed out of your mouth. Tears streamed from the corners of your eyes in shame and confusion, your chin, chest, stomach, legs, everything was dirty and smothered in Hoolay’s dna.

He laughed heartily at your pitiful display, cool still nestled deep in, one hand coming under the arch of your back to lift you up and rest against him. He sat back on his chair, idly dragging a claw down your spine, your skin alight with goosebumps. His voice seemed a lot more content now, “Bring out the slaves. It is time for everyone to enjoy themselves.”

You barely recognised what was happening, your consciousness slowly returning to you over time. Crying, means, laughing, scared whimpers were all present thought your minor rest. Eventually, you had the strength to lift your head, seeing you’re not the only unfortunate soul to be used as a plaything. This place truly is horrible.

Finally, Hoolay’s knot had reduced enough to be plucked from your hole. He grabbed one of the chains around you and half heartedly threw you to the floor. You were confused and struggled to push yourself up, only to halt when a hot stream of liquid hit the top of your head. Piss. He was pissing on you, making sure to cover your body in his stench. The face you made could almost be described as betrayal, save for the fact that you had no faith in him to begin with. Once finished, he lets go of his half hard cock and stares into your eyes, “Everyone will smell who you belong to. You will not be able to take one step in this place without me knowing where you are.”

All you can do is grit your teeth, nails digging into the ground. The piss makes the wounds on your wrists sting like crazy, your hair and fur drenched in both cum and urine. It stinks. The bruises on your arms were forming nicely and you can only wait to see how pretty they’ll bloom by morning.

To add salt to the wound, Hoolay pours water into an empty bowl and places it in there for beside you, “You can bathe again later, we must let it soak in so the pheromones stick.” He stands, cocking his head in admiration of his work on you, smiling wickedly, “It’s about time I got myself a pet. And I know you’ll be such a good girl for me.”

Your head falls forward in this defeat, eyes making contact with your exhausted reflection in the water bowl.

[destinysbounty]

There's a scene in the first episode of season 1 suggesting that as of the start of canon, the Serpentine have faded into nothing more than myth. Naturally, this has led a lot of the fandom to question how this could be possible since the Serpentine War only happened ~40-50 years ago. There are plenty of still-living people in Ninjago who were present for this war - hell, even Ed and Edna were probably alive during the war. How could the existence of the Serpentine, a race that has been around and at conflict with the humans for over a thousand years, suddenly blink out of public awareness in just 40 years?

After some consideration, I think I've come to a pretty simple answer, if you'll indulge me as I overanalyze the silly lego show once again.

In order to understand the situation, let's take a look at the scene in question one more time.

The key thing to note here is that out of the four, Kai is the only one who doubts the existence of the Serpentine. Jay, Cole, and Zane all treat the subject with a heavy amount of importance and trepidation (and a bit of fear). Zane even explicitly insists that they're real. In fact, correct me if I'm wrong but Kai is perhaps the only character in the entire show that we've seen expressing this kind of doubt about the Serpentine.

In my opinion, this means the Serpentine aren't just a myth and are instead a known part of Ninjago's history, and the belief that the Serpentine are a myth is a belief exclusive to Kai and Kai alone. Which...honestly feels pretty in-character for him, ngl.

(Why, then, are the Serpentine taught in schools but the ninja all somehow didn't know about the existence of other elemental masters? Great question! Unfortunately I cannot explain that without going on a long and rambling dissertation-length essay, and I don't have the brainpower to write all that. Long story short? Ninjago's education system is in fucking SHAMBLES and we shouldn't be surprised about any gaps in anyone's knowledge.)

[kleftiko]

❦ KITTEN

cw: mature, mdni!, reader is a stripper, gentleman!aizawa that’s about to snap (yummy), also there’s a collar lol

PART 2 | MASTERLIST

“eraser head!” you call as you sit at your vanity. the dressing room wasn’t very crowded at the moment, and that’s probably why aizawa chose this time to walk in.

“y/n.” he nods. you pout.

“if i have to call you by your stage name, you have to call me mine.”

“not a stage name—hero name.” he corrects you.

you push your hair back, ready to go now that you’ve changed and taken off your makeup. effectively, you jokingly ignore aizawa, standing up with your bag as you hear him sigh and say, “kitten.”

you smile. close enough.

initially, he called you kitty, that was your stage name for the sole fact that you loved hello kitty. but shota decided on ‘kitten’ along the way, and because you liked him, you accepted it.

“will you be walking me home today, shota?”

he ignores your use of his first name and nods.

you two first met after a stalker incident. the emergence of quirks in society gave certain men the idea that they were above the morals of society. unfortunately, you were the target of one (being a stripper is not a safe job), and eraser head was who you turned to. over time, he came as a customer a couple times, but really, he would walk you home at the end of your shift.

it became obvious that he started walking you home because he wanted to. he told you himself that the stalker was not a threat anymore a few months ago, yet he continued to see you at the ungodly hours of the day despite his tired eyes.

you wanted him. you made that clear. he was apprehensive. the first excuse was that you were too young. you reminded him you were barely four years younger. the second was that he was protecting you. its been nearly half a year since there was any semblance of a threat towards you.

you were chipping away and he was breaking.

upon reaching the front door of your apartment, you say, “chamomile with honey.”

it was how he took his tea, and it was a slight command for him to come inside.

he didn’t argue.

you fix the drinks and bring it to him as he sat on the couch.

“oh! i have something i need your opinion on.”

you quickly left the room to change.

aizawa barely showed emotions. you danced and flirted and wore your skimpy outfits, but nothing. his eyes stayed on yours, arms crossed like always, and calm expression on his face. you wanted to see his face break, blush, you wanted to see his head thrown back.

so you come back to the living room.

he takes a quick study of your outfit. not as long a look as you wanted, and no physical reaction.

“it’s cute.” he says.

you huff and step closer.

“really? that’s it?”

“i like the collar, its good for work.”

you had no intention of wearing this to work. even for your profession, this was out of your comfort zone. it was definitely a kitty—ears, collar, accompanied by your nails—but the skirt was a belt to show your panties and it dug into plush of your thighs with garters that you just wanted to take off.

you sigh in defeat. you wore this for him and only him.

“you don’t look happy.” he comments.

you admit, “i was hoping for more.”

he holds your eye contact for a second before he lifts his finger to spin—asking you for a twirl.

you smile and obey, giving a nice mini fashion show.

he doesn’t say anything, but his finger makes a beckoning motion and you walk towards him.

“give me a lap dance.” his voice sends vibrations up you spine.

“what?”

“i can pay you.” he assumes that’s the problem. “your costume’s cute, but doesn’t look too comfortable. wouldn’t be good if you can’t dance in it.”

“i’m not on the clock.” you mumble.

his hands reach out to your hips, grabbing you and turning you around before pulling you onto his lap; your back to his chest as the breath gets knocked out of you.

“neither am i.”

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part 11

I decided we needed a bit of an outsider view on Y/n and the Vee's as its so easy to get stuck in your little bubble, plus Angel being shifty needed to be sorted!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

“You thought this was a date?” you asked in a bit of shock. Humming his lips were twitching in amusement. “Well …” you bit your lip and then thought screw it, “I thought you out of everyone would have planned a much better date and more entertaining than posing for cameras and being looked at like shark bait by creepy club owners?” It was now your turn to laugh as his screen once again glitched and he narrowed his eyes.

“You just wait Y/n” as you walked outside you took a deep breath of fresh air.

“With pleasure, Sir” you smirk up at the TV Demon who matched you with one of his own. This night might have been a bust but it definitely was interesting.

It had been a few days since the club opening and you had dealt with seeing articles plastering yours and Vox’s face over them asking ‘who was this Sinner with Vox’ quite well. Which meant you had avoided looking at any news, any articles and any social media for the first day as you were a little embarrassed by the headlines and different opinions demons were saying about you and Vox. You had a few messages off the Vee’s each expressing different emotions about them. Velvette checked to see if you were okay, also complimented you how you made sure to tell the paps that you were wearing her design (and looked hella hawt doing it – her words) while looking good solo and with Vox. Valentino just praised how well you did and when were you going to come to one of his clubs in those outfits, and when you did could he choose it. And Vox. Well, he simply put ‘I always knew we would look good together, don’t think I’ve forgotten about our date’.

Currently you were, however, sat in the Hazbin Hotel at the bar waiting for Angel. He’d been avoiding your calls, texts and now you have had enough of it, you have given him all day to respond to your messages and calls so now he was going to face you whether he wanted to or not. So, eight minutes ago you sent a message: ‘Bar. Downstairs. 10 Minutes. If you don’t come, I’ll drag you out of your room myself’. A cocktail sat in front of you untouched as you counted down the minutes. You knew he wasn’t at work today as you’d checked with Valentino and Husk the bartender had been very informative that Angel had dragged himself to his room this morning and hadn’t emerged yet. Husk was currently wiping over a few glasses sending you questioning glances every minute or so.

Nine Minutes. Tapping your nails on the counter you start to count the seconds from the clock hung on the wall.

“What are you going to do if he doesn’t come down?” Husk’s deep voice distracts you from counting. 45 seconds.

“Drag him out kicking and screaming”, you smile serenely picking up your cocktail to have a sip. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Little thing like you?” Smirking into your drink you shrug, placing your drink down. 20 seconds. You really didn’t want to have to yank Angel out of his room, but you would. Bracing your hands on the bar you go to push yourself up when a very hungover Angel slumped into the bar stool next to you.

“Good evening, stranger” you chirp, irritating the already grumpy sinner.

“What do you want y/n? I’ve had a long night, and I haven’t the fuckin’ energy to deal with your positive mood”, chuckling at his moaning you slide the sipped cocktail in front of him. Eyeing you he quickly downs it, flinching at the excess alcohol you asked Husk to put in there. Choking he tries to clear his throat as you turn on your stool to face him head on.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You ask. Face now devoid of humour, you stare at his mismatched eyes catching the flinch he tried to hide.

“Who says I’m avoiding you?” He mumbles, motioning for Husk to bring him another drink.

“Me, idiot. We used to see each other nearly every day, if not at least once or twice a week and now you don’t respond to my messages, you don’t answer my calls, you are always busy when I pop to see you at work. What would you call that if not avoidance?” Waiting for him to finish his sip, you tap your nails in annoyance when he evaded looking you in the eyes.

“Look toots, these things happen. People grow apart. That’s what happens in show business, you should get used to it.”

“Please tell me that is not it?” eyes narrowing at him. “That I am finally getting a bit of recognition and you aren’t happy about it?”

“I ain’t that pathetic” he snarled at you, fists clenching around his drink.

“Well thank Lucifer for that, then what is it?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, contemplating what to say before he finally just snapped: “it’s who you are hanging around with to get that ‘recognition’”.

Ahh. Okay.

“You don’t like me spending time with the Vee’s?” You confirm, tilting your head eyeing him as he struggles with his words.

“Obviously honey! They ain’t good people!”

“We’re in Hell babe, who is?” You waft your hand around to make your point. If you were good people, you’d not be in Hell.

Scrunching his face in concern, he reaches over and grabs your hand. “Look y/n, you don’t know what you are getting into. You don’t know who or what they are like!”

“Like you did when you signed your contract?” Low Blow, you know but you needed to get your point across. “I know you are trying to protect me Angel, and I appreciate it. But you pulling away and avoiding me is only going to have me going to them more. I am not stupid. I know what I’m doing. I know who they are and what they have done. I mean have you really forgotten who you are speaking too here?” You squeeze his hand, offering him a small smile.

“I know you are clever and can play their game as well as the best, but I’m just worried they’re going to trap you somehow”. Your eyes drop to where he pulls at his choker necklace with a small gold tag. Hmm.

“Then that’ll be my own fault. But I swear, they aren’t getting near my soul. I made one deal with Velvette and that is just to showcase her clothes and me singing at her catwalk okay – that’s it. Nothing more, they know that.” I keep my eyes on his so he could see how serious I was.

After a few tense moments he nodded in surrender and tiredly rubbed his face with his other hand. Asking Husk for two shots of vodka you push the other in front of Angel.

“Apology shot?” A small smile graced his face as he clinks your glasses together before you both finish them off.

Watching you for a moment he starts, “So…” you scrunch your nose up at the taste of the shot, you forgot how much you disliked vodka, shoving the glass back on the bar. “How are your suga’ daddies and momma treatin’ you?” Snorting in amusement you throw him a look.

“I’m still living in my shit house that I call an apartment and working every job that is worth taking if that’s what you’re asking”, accepting another shot off Husk.

“Oh, they’ve not offered you to move in yet?” Choking on the shot you slap your chest to remove the alcohol from your windpipe.

“I wear Velvette’s clothes, not shag the Vee’s babe, why would they ask me to move in with them?” You questioned.

“Hmm, I dunno know toots. I saw the photos”, his eyes lit up in amusement as he started pulling them up on his phone. “I mean big ol’ Voxxie looked like he was just about ready to devour you – which woulda been so hot. Which reminds me, do ya need any pointers? I know it’s been a longggg time for you” your cheeks were on fire from blushing as you shove a laughing Angel away from you. Dick.

“Ain’t it like riding a bike?” You tease back trying to lessen the blush from your face.

“What type of bike are you ridin’ doll?” if you weren’t so glad you both were now okay, you’d have cursed him out by now.  After a few more teasing comments about your lack of skill or sex life you glared. His teasing smile lessened a bit, sipping on his drink he decided to throw you a curveball, “ya know, Valentino messaged me the other night and not about work”.

Eyebrow quirking you tilt your head: “What about?”

“He cursed me out for ditching you at that club opening”, ah bugger. You remembered him typing furiously on his phone that night but you didn’t even think he’d contact Angel.

“Oh Angel, I am so sorry babe I didn’t think he’d say anything to you!” Waving off your apology he shrugged.

“I shouldn’t have ditched ya so I deserved it … but you looked like you enjoyed yourself anyway”, his teasing smile came back making another blush raise on your cheeks.

“I didn’t know Vox was going to be there, he hadn’t said anything to me. He told me Valentino messaged him to get dressed and meet me”. You defended yourself a bit against the teasing Sinner.

“Val told Vox to meet you?” Angel’s eyebrows scrunched up on his forehead.

“I was just as confused as you are now, I figured the club scene was more Val’s than Vox’s.”

“Huh” eyeing you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Ya really got them wrapped around your little finger now ain’t cha”, rolling your eyes it was your turn to laugh at him.

“Hardly! If I did, don’t you think I’d be living in a gorgeous apartment, have a nice car and not having to work another day in my undead life?” you reason with him. Having the Vee’s wrapped around your little finger, that’ll be the day.

“Mhmm … but you’ve got Velvette giving you free clothes”-

“-Which I promote for her, help design and plus I’ve gotta sing at her catwalk show” you interrupt.

“Okay fair but you’ve got Valentino bossin’ around Vox for you, sending you cutesy shit – yes I’ve seen the messages and photos – and you’ve got Vox looking like a panting dog chasin’ ya around on those photos on the articles. And probably more shit but the cameras just aint caught it!”

Mouth opening and closing as you try to come up with a counter argument, you eventually shut your mouth with a snap. He was right – not about Vox chasing you around the carpet he had actually helped you, but the rest was kinda correct.

“You might not have them completely wrapped around it but toots you are pretty darn close”. He surmised with a smug smirk.

Gulping a little you bite your lip: “What do I do?”

Shrugging, he awkwardly smiles at you: “Ain’t for me to say darlin’, but whatever you do be safe … and have fun”.

Licking your bottom lip, you play around with your empty shot glass on the counter so you didn’t have to look at him. “If … hypothetically I did, how did you so beautifully put it – wrap them round my little finger and have fun – you wouldn’t start avoiding me again would ya?” you questioned, running your finger around the rim of the glass.

Snorting in amusement, one of his arms wrapped around your neck as he placed an exaggerated kiss on your cheek.

“Doll face. You are stuck with me now! Hey if you’re up living it large with those Vee’s I want a Lamborghini for my birthday”, he teased. Tenseness fading from your body you laugh and give him a squeeze around his hips. Angel was one of your true friends in Hell, you’d be lost without him. “Plus, I can give you the low down on how to get Val off”.

“Ew Angel!!” Shoving him off you he bursts out laughing. Clutching his stomach as you scoff at him, blush burning your ears. A buzz from your pocket distracts you from a cackling Angel, pulling it out your jeans pocket you see a message from Vox: ‘Me and Val need to speak to you about an opportunity, I’ll send a car for you’. Peeking up through your hair you see that smug grin on Angel’s face.

Rolling your eyes you give him a snarky smirk in return: “sorry my suga’ daddies are calling” you wink at him as you both laugh. Texting Vox the address, to which he responded: ‘I know’ you scoff. Course he would know. Finishing the last shot you give Angel a quick kiss on the cheek and thank Husk while putting down some money to pay for the numerous drinks.

“I will be seeing you later babes!” He promised to text you tomorrow and you left, happy that you two had buried the hatchet and feeling so much lighter than you have for a few days.

Stepping outside the hotel you spy a black car pull up. Hurrying down the steps you are surprised when a sinner gets out the driver’s seat and opens the back door for you with a small bow in your direction. Okay. That’s new. Thanking them you slide in and relax in the lush leather seating. Perhaps having them a little bit wrapped round your finger is a good thing?

Tag List: @tasha-1994 @azullynxx @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda @twinklethewarrior @martinys-world @rosiethevoxobesser

@the-maladaptivedaydreamer @songbrita @midge7838 @joumi13 @wonderlandangelsposts @th3rizzl3r

[helenazbmrskai]

Monster in me & you: 3

Monster in me and you part 3 (prev. like chalk and cheese)

Pairing – Yan! Taehyung x READER

Genre – Yandere AU, Smut, Angst

Summary – You have episodes when you isolate yourself from everyone, and Taehyung has a hard time navigating through them, but once they’re over, the moments he gets to spend with you are rewarding.

Warning – mentally unstable reader, stalking behaviour, insinuated childhood neglect, unprotected sex, dom! reader, handjob, riding, lovemaking, cunnilingus, cumplay, multiple orgasms, dirty talk

Words – 3,2k

Rating – +18

part 1 // part 2 // masterlist

Sometimes there’s this feeling that you don’t want to deal with anyone. Your mindset shifts and turns up in this dark place that you only leave when the time is right. No force can make it go away.

The moodswings it pushes you into are unpredictable.

It’s hard for Taehyung when you do that anytime that switch flips he’s grovelling at your feet fighting for your attention. It’s hard for you to be in his space and your mood constantly changes with a flicker of emotion. Any sane person would have left you alone, but not him, the hard words that you say just fly over his head. You could tell him the meanest thing in the world and he would still be smiling at you.

He’s so crazy about you.

You can yell not to touch you or speak to you, he would surprisingly obey. The only command he doesn’t respond to is ’go away’.

He refuses to leave even when you’re sick of him. The four walls are not helping you to feel better. On some better days you leave the apartment to breathe in some fresh air, do some grocery shopping or buy something just for you. In the corner of your eye, you could see his silhouette watching you from afar walking behind you a few steps back. He’s not stalking you because he’s monitoring you per se, he’s just worried about you in his sick way. He was never good at expressing himself and never learnt how to show these things. In his head, some things just work abnormally due to his childhood neglect.

Living with him for quite some time you learnt how to read him like an open book.

Whenever you had a question about his life before you he answered without being too emotional. With busy parents, no one paid any attention to him his other two siblings had their lives going on as well leaving the small Taehyung alone most of the time. Taehyung doesn’t have a strong opinion on anything, he’s endlessly patient and sometimes drives you up the wall with how calm he is. He likes anything you like. He does anything you ask him to do. If you asked him to be your pretty obedient doll he would do it.

His obsession is choking you but other times when you have these episodes and he stays by your side till the very end you appreciate his devotion.

Once you calm down and the anger fades and these feelings pass by you’re able to be yourself again. Even since you were a child you had these episodes where you were unable to communicate with people. You didn’t want to be near them, talk to them or just be in the same room as them. There were weeks when you would isolate yourself from everyone and your habit comes with a cost each time. Some friends left you when they couldn’t reach you, tired of waiting even your family contacted you less and less.

At first, you thought it would be better to be alone when you feel like that so you can avoid hurting people.

Taehyung is the first one that you cannot shake off. His presence over some time even becomes quite calming. He became like a pillar that’s unshakeable.

You don’t remember when Taehyung sat next to you or when he put a film on the tv. Your eyes start to focus on the action movie that’s playing and your surrounding materialises in your vision. You realise that you have a soft blanket thrown over your lap and it’s very warm. Taehyung sits on the other side of the sofa mindful of your comment not to touch you even when usually he’s curled around you in situations like this.

You realise you miss him.

He did all those little things for you when you felt like you were at your lowest. He’s deprived not just of your love and interest but physical touch as well, you could tell from how tense he’s been sitting. His hands are placed on his lap intertwined as if he wanted to make sure his hands will not wander absentmindedly.

His head perks up when he feels you moving around. You slowly rest your head on his shoulder as if to break the silence yet he doesn’t react. You could feel his hands shaking as he let them rest on either side of his torso. He’s making the position more comfortable so you can actually lean against his chest.

It’s sweet how he’s nervously watching out for your reactions. He doesn’t dare to hold you so you find his hand in the darkness and place it on your thigh relaxing more into his embrace. Taehyung lets out a shaky breath near your ear you could hear the relief in his small sigh. He finally lets his chin rest on your shoulder in a relaxed manner. The tension he had before left his rigid muscles entirely by the time you two cosied up to each other. He wraps himself around you touching you wherever he can.

”What is this movie about?” Your face slightly turns to catch his eyes. There’s no surprise that his gaze was already on you by the time you looked at him. He blinked flatly two times before he looked back at the screen.

”I don’t really know.” His response was sheepish and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at how cute he looked right now.

”Were you looking at me the entire time?” It’s pointless as you already acquired the answer from his embarrassed stare. Your body turns sideways resting on his thighs. Slowly you wrap your hands around his neck smiling when he shudders the moment your lips make contact with his skin. Your pointer finger trails down his chin listening to his little gasp of pleasure as you kiss down his neck.

”Sorry for ignoring you.” You had to say it out loud as guilt rips through you. It hits you each time one of those episodes ends.

”Don’t say sorry.” Taehyung shakes his head without thinking. You melt into his shy kiss as he presses his lips on yours for a moment.

”Do you still love me?” The answer should be obvious but there’s still doubt in you. Taehyung doesn’t waste his time in proving his love to you, he doesn’t want you to spend another second imagining that he’s not in love with you, obsessed with you.

His feelings will forever be unchanging. He shows it to you with each touch and kiss. Holds you close to his body, and caresses every inch of you as your mouth fully explores his. His tongue slides smoothly over yours sensually, even when he’s kissing you so deeply he cannot keep his happy noises down.

He’s very happy that you’re finally touching him. His cock is getting harder and harder the longer you kiss him.

Afraid that his excitement will place pressure on you he tries to hide his hardness but miserably fails when his hips buck into you from below after a playful bite on his lower lip makes him jolt. He whines with tears in his eyes when you rub the tip over his pants. It’s so easy to make him cry. Finding his pathetic attempts amusing.

”You can touch it.” You encourage him to pull his cock out of his pants. You give him space so he can wrap his veiny hand around his shaft. His hand is so much bigger than yours that he has no problem stroking his length and rubbing the tip with his thumb. Taehyung calls out your name each time he moves his hand, seeking approval from you.

Sealing his moans with your lips, you continue to dominate the kiss as he barely manages to follow your movements, the noises he lets out keep interrupting the flow but you don’t mind kissing him dumb.

Both of your lips are wet with saliva and swollen from the heavy makeout when you break it. Taehyung stops pleasuring himself when you get up from his lap but you reassure him it’s fine if he continues. Once you start taking off your clothes one by one his hand moves again, and watching you uncover yourself results in more fresh precum sliding down his length. The sounds he lets out are sinful.

”Come here.” Once your panties are down your legs you put one leg up on the couch to give him comfortable access. His hand finds leverage on your standing leg holding you by gripping your knees his face buried in the apex of your thighs. You don’t need to give him more guidance as he slips near the edge of the couch.

Taehyung eagerly opens his mouth to taste you, the tip of his tongue pointedly flicks over your clit sending a wave of thrill all over your body. The muscles in your legs tense up caging his face between your thighs to keep him there. He wasn’t going to move anyway. Opens his mouth wide flattening his tongue he moves the wet muscles up and down your slick folds collecting your musky taste is his only response.

You hear his laboured breathing and feel the cooling air around your heated mound. His mouth is as busy as his hand that picks up where he left off dragging his cock up and down pleasuring himself throughout never ceasing his fervent licking. Parts your folds with long strokes finding each nerve in your pussy that makes it throb.

”You can cum anytime.” You tell him between moans of your own that he can let go if he wants and he does. He cums from fisting his cock that’s the only time his tongue slows down and gives you harder licks, desperate to let it all out but maintaining his duty to get you closer to your orgasm as well.

His hand is covered in cum unsure if you would let him he asks you with puppy eyes if he could still touch you with his filthy fingers.

”Hmn, go ahead.” You smile, finding his expression so hot as he looks so exhausted and content with just one orgasm. Your fingers curl in his hair scraping his scalp a little that only makes it harder for him to keep his eyes open. He always loved it when you played with his hair especially when he’s going down on you.

Taehyung rubs his cum coated fingers over your folds spreading the whiteness all over before collecting more from his oozing tip and pushing it into your hole. His wet fingers move with squelching noises but the loudest noise is your joint moans when he enters you. One finger is barely enough to sate you as you ask him to put another in, move it faster and harder. He obeys without you having to ask he could tell from the impatient hip thrusts that tried to push his fingers in deeper.

Your entire body feels like it’s on fire as Taehyung goes back to abusing your enlarged clit with his precision licks. Paired up with his fingers curling and thrusting just at the right speed and place it doesn’t take long for you to cum around his digits. He doesn’t let up his efforts unless you’re shaking and pulling away from overstimulation. He tries to clean you up even when his face becomes a wet mess in the process.

”So dirty.” You wipe his face with your thumb but the gesture does little to help him clean up. His cock is half hard as you wrap your fingers around it still wet from his previous release. ”I’m your dirty b-boy.” Taehyung holds onto your hips pushing his face into your stomach mumbling as you start a slow pace, pumping his length into fullness.

The whiny moans are subdued as he pushes his face more into your skin. Getting too hot to handle you let him go just enough that he could get rid of his last remaining clothes. ”Please, I’ll be real good. Your good boy. Fuck me, please. I don’t know how much more I can take.” Laying down naked on the couch his erection standing tall as he rests against the soft pillows he continues to beg and plead. Moving on top of him, you impatiently roll your hips trapping his cock between your stomachs the friction has his head thrown back and ask you desperately to finally fuck him.

”Fuck me, use me.” His voice cracks and raises as you keep grinding, his pleasure is getting desperate.

”I’m not going to use you this time.”You can feel his cock throbbing against your opening. Warm, hard and slick and the veins throb and pump all the blood into it. You can feel it pulse through the palm of your hand. You guide him into you slowly sitting down till each inch deeply penetrates you.

He barely registers your answer in his mind, confused his eyebrows furrow for a second before you show him the way. Firmly placing your hand on his back you arch it and replace the space with pillows until he’s almost half up.

”I won’t fuck you either.” You place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, whispering, moving down his chin and neck with more marks.

"Fucking you is no longer enough." Breathlessly rocking your hips back and forth you push his seated cock against your clamping walls. Tae squirms under you, and both of you pulse around each other.

His glassy eyes barely focus on your naked form towering over him. His heart is beating one mile per hour under your fingertips. "No, n-no. Please." He panics when he doesn't understand what you mean. Even if he tried with your teasing movements he couldn't do more than gasp and caress the skin on your hips and waist.

You silence him by sealing his lips with yours, your tongue prods into his mouth without resistance. Your passionate actions only rile him up further, his cock twitches inside you and he's barely able to kiss you back properly with his constant moans and whines interrupting. Your hot tongue steals his breath away as you chase his taste.

It makes you smile how he chases after you pull away. With your fingers, you kneed the flesh of his shoulders and arms giving it a few squeezes.

You kiss the corner of his pouty mouth and leave more traces behind on his neck and chest. Some slight movement of your hips is enough to make his back arch, he must be painfully hard right now.

"I'll move slow like this." True to your words you start moving slowly your hips going up and down on his cock, putting more strain on your thighs. Both of your palms are placed on his rapidly moving stomach for leverage. This way you feel him inside intensely the slow drag of his cock against your walls hits each nerve warming you up.

"Does it feel good making love to me?" Your moans mixed with your words against the shell of his ears almost make him blow his load at once. Taehyung takes in a shaky breath his fingers leave small dents on your skin as he holds you so tight, fighting against his need to cum. It’s the closest you’ve ever felt with him emotionally and physically.

Showing him is way more fun. "Yes, I love it. Don't stop, it feels so good. Yes, yes, yes."

Seeing how your words start to make sense in his head. He realises that you not wanting to use and fuck him would mean that this is going to be a new level at being intim with each other. He keeps chanting yes between desperate moans.

It's all new, there's no urgency in your hip rolls and if he conccentrates enough he could feel how you tighten around him when his curved tip hits a favourable spot, your warm wet pussy is practically shaped around his cock, you fit him like a glove only made for his size to satisfy you.

The veins lining his thick length and the pulsing is felt with every thrust.

"I can't hold it, it feels too good." Taehyung tries to stop your movements by digging his nails into your sides desperately but he doesn't have the strenght to halt your strokes when it feels so good.

He's not the only one feeling that way as your walls are getting tighter around him, you can feel the pleasure building with each drag of his cock. "Just a bit more." You mumble completely lost in the feeling at the moment. You barely register how he tenses up underneath you, trying to cater to your wishes.

"I-I can't," His tears are free falling at this point but even as he says continuosly that he can't he keeps holding it in as you ride him.

Caressing the back of his head you push his face into your neck holding him close as you feel yourself getting over the edge.

"Good boy, you can cum now." Giving him permission is all he needs to release his hot seed deep inside you, his cock throbs and pulses with his cum oozing out, your mixed fluids ruining the sofa beneath you.

"This was amazing." You sigh with a hint of satisfaction in your voice. Your light chuckle paints a smile on Taehyung's face. Nuzzles with his nose into your rapidly beating pulse point. He soothes your beating heart with wet kisses along your chest and neck.

"I love you." Drunk from his previous high Taehyung kisses the words into your skin, caresses your back with his big hands shaping soothing circles with his fingers as you both calm down.

"I love you too," Taehyung freezes hearing your confession. This is the first time you ever said that to him. He actually start contemplating in his head if he just imagined it but when your gazes met he became sure he heard you right. You looked at him with such a tender gaze that he practically melted into you.

He held you close to his chest and you hugged him back just as strongly.

"Love your cock too." With a little smirk you kiss the corner of his lips, the little confession is enough to stir him up. Realising that he's still inside you with his cum slowly dripping from your hole it helps little to keep himself composed. Sex always feels good with you, you just know what he likes without him having to explicitly tell you. Everytime he thinks it cannot get any better it just does.

"Did you have fun?" It's a lighthearted question as you wipe his tears away and he chuckles when you pepper his face with small kisses.

"I always do." Taehyung kisses you back, slowly pushing his tongue into your mouth to convey his sincere feelings. "No matter what you do I'll always love you. You can hit me, curse me, yell at me."

His confession should be alerting. No one should tolerate being hit or disrespected but it does make you feel calm. Knowing that he will never leave you.

"Good." The shared kiss is full of passion.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Running a little pâtisserie is quaint, and homey, and should not in any way get you involved with anything shady. Let alone the strange bounty hunter who prowls through your little town like the Grim Reaper himself. And yet here you are, teaching this literal murderer how to use a napkin.

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Also apologies in advance to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a murderer at your window, and you weren’t really sure what to do about it.

Well, maybe not actually a murderer. Bounty Hunters tended not to wind up in prison after dragging back the desecrated remains of their latest quarry. But still. You recognized the black plume tucked slickly into his wide-brimmed, purple, hat, and the pale, bright, bob of his hair was nearly luminescent in the dark. He was certainly the least covert assassin you’d ever seen, and you had seen him. It was hard not to. Traipsing through town to deposit every wayward criminal, every long-lost villain, at the doorstep of who’d ever called for him.

‘Rook Hunt’ you thought his name was, or at least, that’s what the old woman in the market would call him before crossing herself and spitting in the dirt. It was all a bit on the nose in your humble opinion, especially with that strange, twisting, ebony, bow of his strung across his back. ‘Hunter’ indeed. But it’s not like you’ve ever done anything to warrant winding up in one of those dripping burlap sacks of his, so you’d let the dude have his drama. It was probably good advertisement. And it’s not like the guy had ever bothered you before.

You thought that reassurance on repeat as you watched said not-quite-a-murderer stare through the front window of your little bakery, as if your rising dough had been kneaded with the secrets of the known universe. But he didn’t do anything—just kept watching with rapt attention as you brushed egg wash over your pie crusts and swapped trays in and out of the ancient, brick, oven.  

In all honesty, he was far from the strangest thing that’d been plastered to your window in the early AM, and it wasn’t like he was licking the glass or anything. So you let it slide.

One of the custard tarts you pulled from the oven had cracked across the top. Nothing out of the ordinary—there was always at least one dud in a batch. Normally you saved the rejects for Ace or Deuce to gobble up (depending on whoever managed to pop by first), but this one you set aside onto a little tea plate. You topped it with a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a spoonful of the blackberries you’d left sitting in sugar overnight. Then you plucked up a spare napkin and made your way out from behind the counter.

When you opened the door to your little bakery, the tingling overhead bell warmed your unwanted guest’s expression in a way that it most certainly should not have—lighting the whole of him with this sort of wide-eyed, innocent, joy that belonged nowhere on the face of someone you’d watched cart literal corpses into town.

“Mon pâtissier!” he chirped. “What a fine morning it is, no?”

The sun hadn’t even started to rise yet. You could still hear the drone of crickets and toads in the distance, basking in the humid darkness of the night.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “We’re not open for,” you glanced at the moon, still full in the sky, “at least four more hours. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Oh—non, non, non,” Rook waved you off. “I just wanted to watch!”

“…Watch?” you repeated.

“It’s quite the fascinating process!” he absolutely beamed. “Taking such basic, individual, components and turning them into something so spectacularly sweet and heartwarming! Quelle inventivité! I’ve heard nothing but excellent things about your marvelous menu!”

‘From who?’ you wanted to ask, because you’d never heard of anyone being able to hold a conversation with this man for more than a stuttered sentence at a time, let alone for long enough to go about giving dessert recommendations. But there was a streak of red blood across his cheek that still looked fresh enough to not even have gone tacky yet, and now that you looked closer, his dark gloves were perhaps a shade too dark to not have been, well…

You sighed and reminded yourself once again that is was absolutely not your business, before handing him the napkin.

He stared at it with that same sort of rapt fascination that had you wondering if this man had ever actually interacted with proper civilization in his entire life.

“Wipe your hands,” you demanded with a huff, and he dutifully scrubbed at his stained fingers. Once he was clean enough that he was at least no longer dripping unmentionables all along your windowsill, you held out the little saucer for him to take.

“Pour moi?” he muttered, looking a bit starstruck.

“If you’re going to say all those nice things about my food, you may as well get to try what you’re complimenting,” you shrugged, and that same eager enthusiasm lit his face all over again. “And it will be a nice treat to take home with you,” you emphasized, with all the intonation of a cheery ‘please get the fuck out before you scare away all my customers for the day.’

But instead of turning and meandering off back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of, he just kept staring at the little treat like he had no idea what to do with it.

“It’s a tart,” you said blandly, fighting the furrow in your brow.

Rook repeated ‘a tart’ under his breath like it was some kind of ancient, forbidden, enchantment, and not like it was literally scrawled into the little menu sign at your door at least a dozen times over.

The Bounty Hunter peered at the little custard treat like you’d handed him a treasure beyond measure. After a moment of carefully poking at the browned crust like it wasn’t literally meant to break apart beneath one’s fingers, he looked back over at you with eyes that were far, far, too green. He lifted the tart up like he meant to give it back to you.

“I ought to offer you la première bouchée,” he smiled.

You blinked, taken aback, and pushed the plate back into his hands. “That’s not how free samples work.”

Rook tossed his head back with a bout of boisterous laughter that should have been loud enough to wake everyone on the block. You glanced around nervously, hoping no one was about to come running out to make noise complaints.

“Ahh~ But how else will I know the best manner in which to savor such a treat?”

“You eat it,” you gaped. And then, slowly, because you weren’t even sure you were dealing with a functional human being anymore. “With your teeth.”

The Bounty Hunter, with his blood smeared cheeks and even bloodier clothes, put all those shiny, pearly whites of his on display in a merry grin. He swept forward in a grand bow that had the feather in his hat bobbing about in a way that reminded you far too much of a wagging tail.

“Of course!” he chirped. “In my home you said, yes?”

Please, you wanted to groan. Go there. Leave.

“Ideally,” you said instead, and Rook ducked his head until that purple hat of his had cast the whole of his face into shadow. He reached up to tap two fingers against the wide brim and tip it forward.

“Merci, merci!” he trilled. “Then I will endeavor to consume this marvelous spécialité humaine in the proper fashion. A very good morning to you then, cher pâtissier!”

He straightened with a merry little hum and began making his way back down the cobblestone road. In the soft light of the setting moon, his footsteps left odd prints in their wake—inky, black, dripping things that had faded entirely by the time you were able to focus enough to get a proper look at them, leaving you wondering if they’d really just been nothing but a trick of the night.

Well, that was fucking weird,you frowned, shaking the fuzz from your head. You slipped back inside and the door jingled pleasantly as it slammed behind you. But then again, when wasn’t customer service a trip? These people were all ridiculous.

.

.

Bright and early the next morning, you were waiting for Deuce to arrive with his delivery of a fresh crate of eggs. It was ungodly early, as it always was. But at least there was no hunter at your window this time around—

There was a bang and a screech, and then an unfortunate sort of cracking-squishing-yucky noise that sounded an awful lot like a couple dozen eggs meeting their doom. You frowned and tucked your rag into the ribbons of your apron and ducked out from the backroom with a sigh. Deuce was at the door. Or, well, Deuce was on the ground in front of your door. With the shattered, yolk, remnants of your shipment scattered all around him.

“I’m not paying for that,” you huffed irritably, and your friend looked up with a squawk.

He looked like he was trying to say something, but his face just kept flashing back and forth between deathly pale and a miserable sort of mottled red.

“I—! You—! And he—!”

“Use your words, Spade,” you sighed.

“I do believe he’s trying his best, cher pâtissier!”

You froze, and turned in near-slow-motion to see a beaming Bounty Hunter crouched at one of the little painted benches lined up neatly along your storefront. Not on one, like a normal person. But beside one. On the ground. There was no blood on him today. None that was very obviously dripping down his face at the very least. He didn’t seem like he’d come bearing any ill will, but your Chicken Dealer was still splayed out on the ground—nearly convulsing—so that wasn’t a great sign either.

“What’s going on out here?” you demanded, hands at your hips.

“I do believe Monsieur Spade had himself a bit of a fright,” Rook beamed, and then turned towards your very gaunt looking friend with a soft tut-tut noise that for all its amiability didn’t sound particularly sympathetic. “You really ought to work on your balance, hmm? Alas, all these petits oeufs have gone to waste.”

“What?!” Deuce immediately bristled, on the defensive. “If you hadn’t scared me, then none of these chicks would have had to die so tragically in the first place!”

“For the last time,” you sighed, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes. “Unfertilized farm eggs are not baby chicks.”

“But Ace said—”

“Enough! With what Ace said!” you snapped, exhaustion and a sore lack of tea, or coffee, or anything wearing away at your already fragile sanity. “Ace would sell you snake oil and cry to your face about you underpaying for it!”

“Oh?” Rook chirped, unfolding himself from his crouch to stand at his full height. He wasn’t particularly gangly or long limbed—not even especially tall, all things considered. But there was something about him that made him loom. From the sharp cut of his purple robes to the harsh, starched, white of his tight collar. He was neat, composed. And yet… very much not civilized. “Is this not a person who wishes you well, cher pâtissier?”

You frowned, something odd tugging at a sixth sense of yours. Just… a little something on the periphery of your nerves, singing that the words you chose now would mean a lot more than they ought to.

You hummed, low in your throat, and considered.

“Ace is himself,” you said finally, “but he’s a friend nonetheless.”

“Magnifique!” Rook beamed and clapped his hands together with a near lovelorn sigh, all at once perfectly pleasant and soft. “It is such a very good thing to have friends!”

“…Is that what you are?” Deuce asked, enough of that enraged spunk fading away to leave him properly cautious once more. His blue eyes flickered pointedly from the bounty hunter, to you, and back. “A friend?”

You sighed and turned to retreat back into your little shop without a word. Deuce scrambled to his feet to follow you in hesitantly, still dripping with the remnants of too many eggs. You shot him a look, and he immediately darted over to the mop and bucket you kept propped up in the corner. Rook stood in the doorway, nearly just a blur of bruised shadow against the backdrop of the pre-dawn darkness, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye. After a long moment of terse silence, he stepped beyond the threshold with a little hum. He wiped his feet pointedly on your little welcome mat, and then turned to stand at the counter. He fished around in the pockets of his cloak for a moment before withdrawing a strange little flower. He placed it on the countertop with a bright smile that crinkled the corners of his green eyes.

You stepped forward to observe it curiously, and your brows shot up in surprise.

It wasn’t a flower at all. What had looked like the folded arch of soft petals was actually a dainty pair of ­wings. It was a tiny butterfly—caught in a perpetual sort of stillness. It was bright, and colorful, and so carefully preserved that even when you trailed a flour-coated finger along the thin membranes of its wings, it stayed clean and crisp.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Payment, of course!” Rook smiled. “For the lovely treat you gifted me the other day.”

You sighed, not at all in the mood to discuss the lack of viable conversion rates between copper coins and bugs.

So instead you settled on huffing, “Free samples are free. It’s in the name.”

Rook just kept on smiling, unbothered. Deuce knocked into some set of drawers or other—or maybe the coatrack. Who knew—and you shot him an irritable little scowl. The guy was like a bull in a china shop on the best of days, let alone when he was trying to multitask, and be sneaky about it all the while. The bounty hunter’s grin twitched a bit at the corners, like the idea of your blue-haired friend trying to stealthily keep a watch on him was just the funniest thing.

You glanced back down at the little, frozen, butterfly. It really was very pretty, even if it was a little odd.

When you ducked back behind the counter, you unearthed a blueberry muffin from one of many stacks of trays there. It was little lopsided, and maybe there were a few too many bits of fruit in it. Surely no one would have wanted it anyways.

You plopped it on the countertop, and both Rook’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead. When he made no move to take it, you pushed the confection closer. The wrapper slid along the counter in a heavy, sticky, way. You’d have to remember to wipe it down again after. The Hunter reached out carefully to pluck the treat up between his fingers. He squished it delicately, in a similarly cautious way as to how you’d stroked the little butterfly.

“Is this also for eating at home?” he asked, observing the offering with a wide, wonderous, expression.

“Yes,” you said, just in time for Deuce to nearly annihilate your trash bin. “Please enjoy it.” Please get out. You’re distracting my maid.

Rook Hunt dipped into another of those ridiculous, bobbing, bows and pinched the brim of his hat between his fingers.

“Your generosity continues to warm my heart, mon cher,” he crooned, eyes practically sparkling from behind the sharp cut of his heavily lined lashes. “I will endeavor to return your kindness tenfold! A hundred!”

You waved off his sentimentality with a flick of your wrist and a not so delicate ‘shoo shoo.’

The hunter left your little bakery with a spring in his step and an outpouring of flowery promises that had your head spinning. He melted seamlessly into the shadows of the early morning, and between one blink and the next, he’d vanished entirely.

You would have thoroughly enjoyed the well-earned silence that followed, if not for the veritable storm cloud brewing over your friend’s head.

“Do I get one…?” Deuce asked finally, staring outright at the remaining muffins and sounding small and hopeful. And like that clearly wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

“Maybe if I had the eggs to make more,” you lamented, brushing your hands against your apron.

Deuce made a wounded noise which you had exactly zero sympathy for. You got to work wiping down the counters and sorting through the bits and bobs you’d need to start your day.

“…You know he’s not right, don’t you? That bounty hunter?” Deuce finally said, setting the mop aside. “You must have heard at least some of the rumors floating around town. I don’t think anyone even knows if the guy’s human.”

You shrugged.

“Anyone who has to wake up when I wake up each morning has long given up on humanity anyways,” you droned, only sort of half kidding.

Deuce frowned, clearly unhappy with your non-answer.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked, stern in his fretting. There was still a big ol’ chunk of eggshell tangled up in his bangs.

“When I am ever not?” you smiled, and carefully pocketed the little, blue, butterfly.

.

.

When you popped by the market stalls after closing shop for the day, the street was abuzz with all the usual gossipy nonsense that you’d long since learned to let settle at the back of your brain like white noise. You were busy debating if you had enough arms to manage balancing yet another bag of strawberries (they were at their height of freshness these past weeks it seemed, and you were like a little fruit goblin hoarding them while you could), when a particularly shrill bit of chatter worked its way past the pleasant curtain you’d let fall across your thoughts.

“There was another one,” the butcher’s wife whispered in a way that was most certainly not a whisper.

“I heard,” chittered the man who really should have been trying to sell you more strawberries if he’d any kind of business sense whatsoever. He turned on you with a look that meant you were clearly about to be dragged into a conversation you were entirely unprepared for. “It was one of yours, apparently!”

“One of my what?” you blinked back into focus.

“One of your regulars,” he said, like a secret.

“That strange Bounty Hunter came through again,” his coconspirator hissed, with a hand lifted as if she meant to cover her mouth. “He dropped off the body the other day—delivered the heart straight to the Felmier’s porch!”

“Who was it?” you asked, just like you knew they wanted you to.

“Sir Hamlen,” the butcher’s wife said. “You know, that awful toad who could eat you out of house and home.”

That sounded like all of your costumers, and more than half of your closest friends, but you gave yourself a moment to sort through your scattered thoughts and try and connect whatever dots they’d been throwing at you.

“Sir Hamlen…?” you said after a moment, slowly putting a face to the name. “With the terrible goatee?”

They both nodded enthusiastically.

“Rotten pig,” the butcher’s wife piped back in. “Served him right, if you ask me. Everyone was expecting the Crown would put him to death anyways.”

You shrugged again. You hardly knew the man, but he’d always paid you well enough that you didn’t really have any ill will towards him. You went back to fussing over balancing bags of berries, but then… Well, there was something a bit funny, actually. He’d been a loud sort of person, with no filter to speak of. One afternoon, he’d stumbled into your little shop absolutely pissed on cheap drink and all but burping bubbles.

‘You know,’ he’d lulled, dropping a full coin pouch on your countertop. Which you’d taken in its entirely with zero hesitation. ‘I’d die happy if my last meal was these fucking tarts of yours.’

‘Is that so,’ you’d drawled, in the bland way you answered literally every customer who spouted off whatever nonsense was kicking around in their heads.

‘Aye,’ he’d sighed, practically stooped over. ‘Gonna have to pry ‘em outta my cold, dead, hands.’

“Huh,” you muttered, thoughts wandering back to a pair of bloody gloves and the little treat you’d pressed into them. Huh.  

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[hwnglx]

which tarot card best represent the members of enhypen? like what they really are and what kind of person they want to be?

this was an interesting request! so, let's see 💌

heeseung

what he is: knight of pentacles

heeseung is extremely cautious. someone who takes slow, but steady and controlled approaches in basically all his endeavours. you will rarely catch him act recklessly. he's persistent, reliable, stable and has a practical mind. he also has this patience of steel, doesn't allow anyone to rile him up easily, but might be perceived as boring or stale at times.

what he wants to be: seven of wands

he wants to stand his ground more, courageously defend himself, his beliefs or opinions, and his people more. he wants to be more outspoken and not always be so obsessed over stability, like he wants to allow himself to lose his shit and temper sometimes and shout at someone if they do him wrong. there's this frustration in him, where he thinks he's always so easily worried over not overstepping any lines, and not doing anything or anyone wrong, he feels like he might appear defenseless and like an easy target because of it.

jay

what he is: king of swords and nine of wands

someone with a rational and logical mind, who can appear cold and detached a lot of the times. he's wise, intellectual, serious and knows how to keep a cool head throughout any of his endevours. he isn't someone who lets people get to him that easily, and can have his guard up sometimes in order to protect himself, which can make him come off kinda stoic and unapproachable sometimes. he can also come off more defensive and hard to crack than he'd like. people might struggle feeling comfortable with him due to this.

what he wants to be: six of pentacles

he wants to be more generous, giving and caring. he wants people to be more aware of his desire to help and support the people around him, and wishes they would feel more comfortable going up to him when they're in need of something. this is also just.. giving in general, i wanna go around and give all my loved ones gifts and shower them with things, so they understand i actually genuinely care about them. it seems like he's worried of his selfless heart not being recognised, and him being misunderstood as someone colder and more selfish than he actually is.

jake

what he is: moon and four of swords

hm, jake is someone who's prone to getting extremely anxious and insecure a lot of the times. he can struggle letting go of certain worries or deep fears, can often get fixated on negativity, feel pessimistic and struggle letting go of this darkness inside of him. he feels overwhelmed, but his mind never really truly gives him a break. he essentially feels trapped inside his head and doesn't know a way out. he can also have a tendency to hide many darker parts of himself, and can have struggles expressing it.. so it just lingers.

what he wants to be: five of pentacles and judgement

he isn't necessarily rejecting the negativity, but moreso wants to grow from it and transform from the pain. he wants the pain to turn him into a wiser, stronger and more self-aware person who understands his life-path, and gets out of his hopeless situation as a more knowledgable and powerful person. he wants the hurt in his life to guide him to a better place, and find awareness of his true inner calling by going through the dirt, but coming out the other side as a wiser man. he wants a fresh start, and feel like he's reborn. there might be this fear inside of him, that he's someone who's destined to struggle.

sunghoon

what he is: ace of cups

sunghoon is someone who connects to others on a profound level, and is in possession of good emotional understanding and sympathy for the people around him. his aura is very pleasant and gentle, people just enjoy being around him because he makes them feel comfortable, supported, listened to and heard. he's great at bonding with people, and just overall radiates this safe and agreeable vibe, which makes it easy for others to feel at ease when they're with him.

what he wants to be: seven of wands

so same card as heeseung; sunghoon wants to speak his mind more. he might think that people view him as too nice all the time, to the point where he won't voice his opinion or defend himself if necessary, just because he isn't the type to get angry or extremely emotional as quickly. i think this might come to him naturally (especially if he's a libra rising) but he doesn't want to constantly match his composure to other people, and sometimes be more selfish i feel like; he's just naturally very balanced and grounded, which can give off the wrong impression to others. i keep hearing “만만해” which means “he's easy” like he supposedly can't stand up for himself or fight when the situation calls for it.

jungwon

what he is: knight of wands and the world

hm, i see this as his two sides clashing; his impulsive side, and his perfectionistic side. he's always striked me as someone who's very picky, sets the people around him and himself up to immensely high standards. however, he can act in a rash manner sometimes, especially when it comes to his relationships, as well as come off stronger and more direct than he wishes to. i heard “도도함” which translates to something like “proud”, but it can be used to refer someone who just has this more elegant and chic demeanour.

i think jungwon might struggle balancing these two sides in him, where he can act or say things on impulse, again i keep sensing him just rubbing other people the wrong way sometimes, and him wanting to be more in control of himself. not only have a sense of inner balance, but also give off more of a deep, wise and mature aura.

what he wants to be: six of cups, five of wands and strength

yeah, this is kinda giving.. “i wish i could go back to the past and refrain myself at times when i ran my mouth.” i think he might've been someone who's fought a lot with others in the past, has gotten himself into plenty of arguments with people he actually cared about, which he seemingly can still beat himself up over today. “why did i let my pride get in the way of me being a decent person?” is what i heard.

i think he can be very prideful and stubborn at times, he does have an ego, which can drive him into this state of coming off offensive. he wants to be someone who's capable of suppressing his frustration more, and wants to be a person others can rely on, rather than feel offended by. he wants to display this pillar of comfort and strength for the people around him, someone you can lean on with an easy mind.

sunoo

what he is: ace of swords

sunoo is very witty, funny, intelligent, mentally quick. he's clever, full of interesting and exciting ideas, and has a mind that's always racing. he's also just a good communicator who's good with his words, eloquent and knows how to express himself in this effective manner, to get the point across sufficiently. he isn't someone who sugarcoats his words for anyone, like best believe sunoo will tell it to you as it is and give no damns, take it or leave it lol. he has a sharp and fast mind, and can often be a little judgemental of people who aren't the brightest. like i can see him thinking “are you dumb?” while judging some slower people lmaooo.

what he wants to be: five of wands

i'm sorry i snickered a little, it's cute..

sunoo wants to be more competitive and prove himself in a more effective manner. he might feel like people don't always take him seriously or perceive him as too weak and sensitive. sunoo wants to argue, he wants to people to come at him, because in the end he knows he can outsmart them anyway. he also just enjoys challenges and playful but healthy competitiveness. he likes the fun that comes from an exciting challenge, and likely feels drawn to people who aren't afraid to poke the bear and provoke him sometimes. i just keep hearing “boring”, i feel like rather than himself, he might feel that he just has too many boring people around him, and wants to feel more challenged, especially mentally. “let's fight bitch!” is what i heard. i'm crying. his energy is probably one of the most unserious one's i've read for recently, it used to be much deeper and a little more intense in the past.

ni-ki

what he is: temperance

ni-ki is just very chill, and balanced. he doesn't let things get to him as quickly, at least from an outsider's perspective, and doesn't allow external forces to bring him out of his balance. he can have this very agreeable and peaceful aura to him, and displays an air of patience and stability. he's composed, doesn't succumb to emotional extremes, and can have a soothing effect on the people around him due to his everlasting calm and serene demeanour.

what he wants to be: seven of swords and queen of cups

hm, i'm personally understanding this more as.. he wants people to recognise there's more beyond the peaceful surface. he is someone pretty emotional, also carries a great deal of compassion and empathy for the people around him, but can get misunderstood as being more of an “airhead” who just doesn't really feel anything as strongly, or doesn't care.

ni-ki can often feel and understand people's emotions as if they were his own and absorb them in a profound manner, but isn't very good at showcasing it. he has more of a tendency to hide the more emotional parts of himself, and might have a lot of problems voicing the way he feels, which might result in him feeling misunderstood. like i can sense him feeling like people might think he can't ever relate or understand their standpoint, although he absolutely does and can a lot of the time. it just isn't on display for them to perceive it.