#or being tortured for... which may be worse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hadesrise · 8 months ago

Text

## murder for you, baby !!

summary──── a justifiable serial killer on the loose, and jason finds himself being enamoured by him.

pairings──── jason todd x dbd!ghostface!male reader

warnings──── nsfw content, serial killer themes, dead dove do not eat, sexual arousal in response to violence or torture, murder, blood, deaths, gore, foul language, bottom!jason, top!reader, reader’s physique is described as tall and broad ( the slasher build ), possessiveness, choking, praise kink, blood kink, knife play ( reader carving his initials on jason ), toxic!reader ( ? ), sorta toxic relationship but also not, unprotected sex, love-making, pet names, overstimulation, dumbification, degradation if you squint, lil’ bit of manipulation, creampie, doggy style, mating press, biting, marking, oral ( r. receiving ), voice kink ( ? )

author’s note──── not me coming back with halloween themed fic after halloween days have passed lol. i’m alive, y’all !! hope you enjoy this one that took a fucking month to write 😭

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ; this post may contain disturbing contents that may not be suitable for every reader — a reader discretion is advised. MINORS DNI !!

Gotham’s been terrorized by the worst people you could ever imagine, the kind that’ll stick with you forever and take residence to your nightmares if you were unfortunate enough. Many were hurt or even murdered as a result of the villains’ terrorization, with vigilantes running through the night to capture and send them to Arkham Asylum.

With the existence of a Psychopathic Clown, his equally psychopathic girlfriend with PHD’s that’s been wasted down the line, the Mother Nature freak, the ridiculously huge man with a gas mask on, the green coloured living question mark, and many others, no one would’ve ever thought anything could get any worse.

Until some criminals’ bodies turn up across the streets in such disturbing manner that haunts the witnesses to death.

One, a criminal who murdered young and homeless boys, gutted deeply to the point of their intestines hanging out. Another, a criminal known for kidnapping and selling people’s organs, mutilated with their torso torn back to expose the organs settled inside of them. Another one, a priest-turned-criminal who’s been violating women and children, crucified naked in his own church with his eyes gouged out, a Bible verse carved in his chest; ‘And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.’ Matthew 18:9; his penis cut off and body seemingly violated as well. Another more turns up, a governor-turned-criminal who’s been feeding into the rich despite their oath of generosity towards the poor, severely tortured with the skin on his back cut open, ribs severed from the spine and broken to the sides in order to create the illusion of wings, fluttering lungs pulled out from their chest cavity to resemble an eagle’s wings, with the word ‘traitor’ carved on his forehead.

The brutality and gruesome nature of the murders has set an alarming panic and fear across Gotham City that forced civilians into locking their doors at night. Criminals who were unidentified and not found by Gotham Police Department were also turning up in a form of miserable, tortured soul, along with the evidence and proofs of their crimes being carelessly laid beside their lifeless corpse.

The killer taunts those who are in charge of justice within their city each time the damned were unfortunate enough to be hunted down; pigs of failure written in the criminal’s blood right beside the drawing of a police’s logo.

However, despite how gruesome and disturbing the murders were, most people couldn’t deny that it was doing the city a favor. Justice System has failed more times than one could count to the extent of victims yearning to exact revenge themselves against their perpetrator, which causes most to react rather positively to the wrongful, unlikely hero who had seem to suddenly appear out of nowhere. The haunted finally getting the chance to slay the traumatic demons with the help of another psychopath on the loose.

Another justified monstrosity shouldn’t be the counter against one inhumane monstrosity that caused so much pain, trauma, and misery. But kindness could not vanquish one’s tainted blood. Forgiveness could not suddenly wash away the sins engraved deeply into one’s soul.

Imperfect, the victims muttered. An imperfect yet perfect way to save our burning souls wrongfully condemned by the criminals.

Red Hood has heard their murmurs.

Silent whispers of gratitude that fell on deaf ears, their previously dim soul brightening in relief and sanctuary with smiles on their faces as the Universe had finally took mercy on them and sent a Fallen Angel to slay the Demons away. He’s watched their spirit uplift, no longer chained down by the trauma and fear of the monsters that once ruined their lives, able to walk the streets carefree of tormentors. He’s watched their stiff posture visibly loosen, lively peacefulness settling itself at last within their haunted eyes. He’s watched them glow with happiness not feeling the presence of their perpetrator every couple of seconds, finally capable of living without needing to constantly look over their shoulders in paranoia and fear.

Ghostface is what the serial killer’s called, nickname born out of the mask that resembled a ghost always being left behind in crime scenes, each slightly different.

Jason has seen you. He didn’t mean to, really.

The temptation to get at least one look at you was great every-time he patrolled, wishing to just catch glimpse of an immoral hero who could make sacrifices no actual heroes could — who’s doing exactly what he wished before for Batman to do.

The Universe seems to have granted his wishes when his eyes catches the void of ghostface’s eyes, your mask tainted in splatters of blood from the dead criminal below you. Jason feels his world come to a stop as you slowly rise from crouching position and reveal your unnaturally tall height, broad shoulders visible under the black hooded leather. You hold silence and calmness despite being caught, tilting your head slightly to the side.

His heartbeat quickens yet he doesn’t feel fear. Jason idiotically steps closer as if he was in a trance, burning your existence within his eyes to engrave in his memory. Your bloody knife barely grazes his neck to stop him before using it to tilt his chin up, your figure looming and towering over him while seemingly staring into his eyes through his helmet.

A sense of peacefulness overcomes Jason being in your presence despite the absolute brutality and mercilessness that surrounded your entire being. You were deadly, silent, certainly creative with your work that it deems almost artistic, as if the criminals’ bodies were your own canvas to paint on — and Jason finds solace in you. A man he always needed, someone who’d be willing to cross the line and get rid of the actual evil for the sake of victims that’d be forever haunted if it continues to exist.

“I’ve heard things about you, Red Hood.”

Low, raspy, monotone voice speaks, sending shivers down his spine. It sounds cool and handsome regardless of the obvious use of voice changer, somehow littered with tiniest hint of flirtatiousness.

It takes him quite a while to answer, barely managing to let out a “yeah?” as he feels you drag the knife slightly closer to his pulse. His heartbeat quickens, but slows down when the cold metal was finally pulled away.

“Pleasant things,” You hummed, before your voice lowered a few octaves, “Can’t say the same about Batman.” Anger seems to seep through your tone that felt a little more than just sympathy for victims of villains Batman refused to put six feet under. Jason wondered if you’re also one of the victims his father failed.

“You… You know him that much?” Jason’s voice shakes from the nerve, your presence somehow greatly affecting him.

“I think everyone knows him enough,” You chuckled, but it sounded so empty that Jason can’t help but feel the goosebumps rise on his skin. It was quite chilling to meet someone who shows only a certain amount of emotion which could even be felt expressionless due to the monotonous pitch. The ghostface mask certainly did its job of making you seem more less human, the unmoving expression of ghost being horrified to death adding to the eeriness of your toneless mechanic voice.

Jason’s breath hitched when you took one step closer.

“But I know more about you. Your little past and the sufferings you’ve endured,” It’s spoken as if his life was one of your necessary investigation in your twisted justice. “It’s unfair, don’t you think? I would’ve gutted the Joker like a fish if it were to happen to my son.” There’s a condescending way in which you spoke, not directed at Jason but to Bruce.

“How—” Jason swallowed. “How did you—”

“I can make your dreams come true,” You interrupted him with a tempting offer, shutting him up effectively. Wide grin plastered your face despite not being seen behind your mask. “I can kill the Clown for you, Red Hood. If it means it’ll silence your troubled spirit. If it’ll bring you peace. I can hurt him on your behalf just like he deserves.”

It was like a whisper from the devil, slithering its way into Jason’s heart and mind to possess his soul, mirroring the one which whispered on Adam and Eve’s ears.

He’s been wanting — needing — to hear those words come out of Bruce. His suffering and death seemingly being brushed off as a cruel accident shattered him more than he’d ever admit, Bruce’s unhealthy coping mechanism and morality getting in the way of showing his love for Jason that left the younger man feel lesser than he was. Bruce was a complex person that’s sometimes difficult to understand, his impressive ways to stick to his morals being exactly his character, but Jason wanted for once, to actually feel how important he was to his father.

Was that too much to ask for, or was he just unworthy of the entirety of it?

“Why would you do that for me?” Confusion and subtle suspicion filled his tone as Jason narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out your intention despite the rush of hope that shot throughout his chest. He forced himself to feel nothing when you leaned in closer.

“Because you were wronged, of course.” You simply stated. “You are a victim. Not more, not less. You deserve a little more than just empty justice. And I’m a man who got tired of vigilantes that are afraid to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Then, you tilt your head slightly to the side in a way that’s somehow alluring. “But I can also say I’m intrigued by you.”

Jason’s heartbeat quickens again when your big hand seems to wrap perfectly around his throat, fingers resting just above his pulse points. It makes such filthy thoughts flood themselves into his mind, your long and quite thick fingers falling victims to his tainted imagination, and he had to give everything in himself not to bare his throat more for you. You seem pleased of his lack of disobedience and bite, having expected him to shove your hand away or flinch back before you could touch him. You’ve seen Red Hood once and how his uncontrollable rage resulted in violence, heavy burdens and extreme trauma turning him into a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute with the wrong move. He was absolutely lethal, the bullets serving as the evidence of his wrath and resentment towards the underground scumbags. It’s amusing that you have the man of violence himself now somehow completely under your control, surprisingly quiet and shy and obedient. You wondered if this is how he was before he was ruined by the cruelty of the world.

“You want it, don’t you? For me to kill the Joker.”

Jason feels as if you know everything he wants. Is this what it feels like to be important?

It takes a little while for him to answer, but he eventually came up with a “You’ll do that?” which sounded vulnerable and weak for the first time in his second life. Your heart clenched at the doubt and seemingly child-like vulnerability in which he uttered the words, as if he was afraid to trust something after being betrayed countless of times, reminding you of the sole person you’ve even began doing all of this for. They were quite similar yet so different — your older brother and Jason.

You hadn’t meant to cross his boundaries and unknowingly step into the empty hole that made home in his heart. Unconsciously slithering in like a snake by touching the subject his heart was longing for, not realizing his childhood’s still remaining within his spirit.

All he wanted was love and to feel safe again. You didn’t know the Red Hood was so adorably pitiful. A smirk plastered your face.

“I will,” You reassured and leaned your face inches away from his, the hand on his throat lifting his helmet slightly.

Jason doesn’t retaliate, blinded by a meat of hope dangled in front of him. He doesn’t move as the lower half of his face was exposed, and you lifted your own mask the same using your other hand. Jason willingly, obediently closes his eyes before your lips attached to his — a kiss of death, tasting like blood and cruelty. Warm and soft despite your rough, cold-blooded, corrupted soul. A kiss from the devil.

When Jason opened his eyes, you had already disappeared into the darkness with blood stains on the ground you stood before, a single note left behind; Hell will reopen for the Clown.

After neatly tucking the note inside his jacket and making sure no evidence has been accidentally left on the crime scene, Red Hood smiles for the first time in a long while and reaches for the comms without a heavy heart.

“Batman, I found another body.”

Whatever happens, he’ll have no knowledge of the following misfortune that’ll befall on the Joker. It’s the righteous serial killer’s doing, after all.

What was used to be a maniacal laughter turned into screams of agony and pain. Strong stench of death and blood makes euphoria rush within your mind, the feeling of slicing through flesh with your knife bringing pleasure and ecstasy that made your pants tight. There’s a certain amount of satisfaction in the way your own actions cause serious harm and scarring to criminals who once deemed themselves powerful, being reduced into nothing but a powerless prey that could easily be gotten rid of.

You feel increasingly powerful the more you strip them of their dignity and arrogance as they shed blood on the holy ground. Your existence alone striking them with crippling fear and anxiety feeds into your ego, yet you never stray away from the sole purpose or reason for your murders — making them taste their own medicine.

From what you found on countless deep dive and research, Joker preyed on Red Hood when he was still a young child full of life and joy, having been under the name Robin at the time. Second Robin to be exact, considering he was a lot different from the first one. It actually surprisingly pained you when you’d seen how much of an adorable, dorky, nice kid he was before misfortune cut his life short. You would’ve never thought you would find a kid adorable in your entire life, the little menaces often being nothing more than a headache to be around with that caused a certain dislike to grow towards them within you, but Jason was everything a cute kid was. Just excited to be there, to be fighting alongside Batman, to be relevant.

Such a precious boy ruined for the sake of shits and giggles for the Clown. For the sake of getting under Batman’s skin. And the Bat couldn’t even make fucking amends to his flaws as a father and mentor.

Well, he didn’t need to anymore.

You’ll give Red Hood— Jason Todd —what he wants. Yearned for. Perhaps, even what the other civilians who have fallen victims to this vile criminal want. You would stop at nothing until every criminal is gurgling and choking on their own blood.

Joker’s scream shoots a jolt of electricity within your body as your knife pierce through his skinny thigh and to the ground, pinning his leg down. You had been doing an effective job of reducing the maniac into nothing but a screaming, cowering average victim by torture. Bruises, burns, gashes, and stab wounds littered his body that was done carefully enough to not be life-threatening. Fucker was laughing maniacally at first, of course. It irritated you so much that you might’ve went a little overboard.

Watching Joker heave and struggle to breathe from the pain, you tilted your head and roughly grabbed his throat. It catches him off guard and he grips your wrist, barely even having the strength to fight you off. You’re amused by the entirety of Joker’s nature, how he’s still just an average man that can easily be overpowered — nothing that makes him special enough to not be killed, becoming proof of Batman’s selfish willingness to let the victims suffer than bring them actual peace.

You’ve never uttered a word since you captured him and it unnerved Joker from the beginning, but then, words finally come out of your mouth in a form of monotonous, mechanical, emotionless, eerie voice as you lean over him; “Laugh it out, Joker. Why so serious?”

It sounded like a death sentence.

He’s right in a way, because another of your knife pierced the corner of his mouth soon as you uttered the words. Your other hand tightened on his arteries to choke him while you drag the knife to slit the side of his mouth into a grin, following the lines of his red lipstick. It was certainly not a clean cut, but an artist has their own creative ways to make their art. Tears mixed in with blood that gushes out of his face, complete horrors written across Joker’s eyes which boosts your satisfaction. You go on and do the same thing to the other side of his mouth, before finishing your art piece by carving ‘J’ on his painted cheek.

You resist the urge to moan at the sight of blood coating your fine piece, always finding it to be an amazing finishing touch.

From then on, Joker was brought to literal Hell.

Jason flinches when a playful knock sounded from his safe house’s window, cautiously approaching to see ghostface waving at him through the glass. His eyes widened and immediately opens the window to let you in, not wanting anyone to see you — your sudden appearance distracting him from the fact he’s never given anyone the location of his safe house.

He stops in track at the blood splatters across your mask, and just then had he noticed you seemed to be hiding something behind your back with one hand. It definitely strikes his curiosity, but he somehow didn’t feel like you were holding something that could harm him.

“You got something for me, ghostface?” Jason feels you grin under your mask.

“Got you a present,” Your raspy, rough voice enthusiastically quipped.

Jason’s breath hitches when you show what you were holding — the Joker’s decapitated head in a square glass container tainted by its blood. You obviously had planned to bring it barehand, but you considered the possibility of its blood dripping down on his safe house and becoming a false evidence to point him to the murder, which prompted you to put it inside the container. An unbelievably sweet gesture for a fucking psychopath like you.

Jason could feel his heart beat rapidly as he takes in the animal’s state, carved up grin and the letter J and the horrors seen in its lifeless eyes proving the absolute misery and suffering it went through before being put down. The monster was finally, finally slain and gone forever from his life. Nightmares detangles from his spirit and the past unwraps away from his soul, utter peace and relief spreading throughout his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes at the feeling of being free at last from the life long torment, breath shaking as his knees wobbled.

The child in himself, the innocent Robin that was killed unfairly, finally rests in peace.

Then he sees you, his hero, waving your seemingly new knife playfully in the air with your outfit splattered in blood without a care that you actually saved him, and Jason feels a sudden surge of arousal and will to submit. To give you everything, anything.

“Do you love it, Red Hood?”

Without answering you, Jason grabs the glass container with shaky hands and sets it aside on the counter before stepping back closer to you again, blood rushing to his veins from arousal. He removes his helmet with a thud on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, lustful and yearning emerald eyes looking up at you.

“Let me thank you, please.”

It makes you groan as your pants significantly tightens more.

You slide your knife back into the holster before cupping his beautiful face in your hands, and thank fucking Heavens there wasn’t any blood on it that would taint his face, because he’s a sight to behold. He’s truly a gem, something precious you had never seen before. “So beautiful,” You whispered, making Jason flush. “Baring yourself to me for such a simple present, doll?”

“Not a simple present,” Jason mumbled as he snuggles on the palm of your hands. “You saved me.”

You hum appreciatively, getting the itch to bare yourself to him as well. “You wanna thank me by what?”

Jason looks back at you, face flushed with a little hint of uncertainty and embarrassment, doubts. “I— uhm,” He stammers, but encouraged by your thumb’s gentle stroke on his cheek. “By… by becoming yours.”

Your cock throbs. Fuck, he’s so fucking adorable, you just wanna fuck his guts out. You’re usually tempted to gut people, not fuck their guts— which is funny to say the least— but you weren’t going to say no when the Red Hood’s so willing to offer himself up.

“You wanna take my mask off, doll?” He seems surprised by your question as if he hadn’t thought of it, making you chuckle. “If you wanna be mine, I gotta be yours too, don’t I?” It was dangerous to reveal your identity to him, but you couldn’t care less, especially when you could just fuck his brains out to shut him up. That’s the plan, first time that didn’t include butchering or cutting a body up.

Jason fucking Todd and his effects on you.

The emerald eyed male hesitantly grasped your mask when you led his hands to it, slowly lifting it over your head. He’s met with a fucking luscious feature to ever be adorned on a man and dark, lustfully murderous blood red eyes that makes a whimper slip past his lips. You merely widened your eyes at the sound he made before immediately grabbing his jaw and smashing your lips against his, swallowing Jason’s surprised gasp.

He reciprocates the insatiable hunger you displayed, tongue dancing along with yours and moaning into the kiss when your fingers lightly tugged on his hair. You pull him up in amidst of making out and squeeze his ass, encouraging him to wrap his legs around your hips. You detach your lips from his to trail kisses down his jaw and neck as you walked towards his bedroom, questionably knowing where it is, and Jason tilts his head back to give you more access with closed eyes. Letting him stimulate both of your restrained cocks by grinding down, you sat down on the bed and sucked on his throat as Jason moaned.

“Please, please…” He whimpers, uncontrollably moving his hips in a perfect rhythm yet he seemed to want something else.

You pulled away and traced his lips with your thumb, watching as he naturally took it in and sucked, giving you a desperate look. Swiftly turning off the voice changer attached to your neck in a form of choker, you chuckled when his hands fiddled with the belt on your hooded coat. “So needy, aren’t you?” Your real voice sends shivers down his spine.

An alluring, low, slightly rough pitch and somehow more emotionless than when you were using the voice changer. It makes his cock twitch and empty hole clench down on nothing, the need to be stuffed full of your cum swarming in his belly. You’re fucking bewitching, a man made up from every guy and girl’s fantasy, wet dream, and your attractiveness mirroring the Devil’s that would tempt and lure others to sin.

How the fuck were you real?

“Speak up, pretty bird.” You smirked, “What do you want?”

“Your cock,” Jason mutters, cheeks tinted in pink. “Wanna suck your cock and make you feel good.”

“Fuck…” You shifted in place, “You’ll do that f’me? Get my cock nice and wet to take you apart? To fuck your guts out?”

Jason shakily inhales and nods, climbing off your lap and kneeling on the floor. You lean back on your hands as he unstraps your belt and slide your zipper down, slightly raising your hips to help him get rid of the excess clothes. Your thick and lengthy cock smacks against your clothed stomach, making Jason’s mouth water. Thick veins throbbed on your big shaft, the tip angry and red from arousal leaking precum. It wasn’t just big, it was long, and Jason squeezes his thighs together to keep himself from just riding your cock all day.

His hand wraps around the base, starting to stroke it with a content rhythm. God, you were so fucking big. It’d definitely split him open if you shove it in so suddenly and fill him up nice. It’d make him scream his head off from the unbearable length and girth, almost too much, and Jason wants you to force him to take it. Pin him down and fuck him despite his pleas to stop.

Jason swipes his thumb over the slit, smearing precum, pumping it for a good amount before licking a stripe up the underside of your cock. You shudder, removing your gloves to slip your bare fingers through Jason’s hair, encouraging him to take you in. He obeys, relaxing his throat first before sliding your cock inside his warm mouth, and you groaned at the warmth that surrounded you. It almost didn’t fit from how big you were, but Jason braced himself and took it in further until he gagged as the tip touched the back of his throat. Wrapping his hand around your shaft that he couldn’t take in, stroking gently as if to apologize.

A moan slips past your lips when he starts bobbing his head, tongue brushing against the underside of your dick. “Fuck… Doin’ so good,” You roll your head back. “Such a pretty face to fuck, ain’t ya?”

Jason whines, tears gathered in his eyes as he sucks and fastens his rhythm. Curses, grunts leave your lips that left him feeling all hot and bothered, his other hand moving to skillfully pull his pants down and free his aching cock.

You see him touching himself and a smirk adorns your sinful face, gently scratching his scalp with your nails which earned you a whimper from him. “Go on, fuck yourself. We both know it wouldn’t fit that easily without proper prep,” Expression twisting into a cocky one, your grip on his hair tightened. “I’ll do as I please with your mouth until you’re done.”

Without waiting for his approval, you roughly shoved your cock deep down his throat and moaned loudly, throwing your head back. Jason gagged with a loud whimper as his eyes rolled back into his skull and cum shot out from his throbbing cock, hips jutting forward and twitching due to the sudden orgasm. You chuckle lowly, amusement and lust glinting in your bright red eyes, before you pull back and ram on his throat again.

Jason’s cries and moans were muffled as you ruthlessly use his throat to gain pleasure. His mind has already turned into mush from your assaults, white cum and precum staining the floor yet he doesn’t put up a fight. Taking it all like the good, obedient boy that he is. He’s reached behind him to insert two fingers in his awaiting hole, walls clamping down on the digits from the arousal of his throat being utterly wrecked.

Yesyesyes, please. He chanted in his mind. Use me, mark me, cum in my throat, make me yours.

The moment you fulfilled your promise and delivered him the head of his enemy, he was already yours. It’s all he ever wanted. Unquenchable thirst that always gnawed on his throat and hunger that left his stomach restless, his soul practically teared in half from being battered and beaten. He matters now — mattered enough to you, that you went ahead and killed the source of his misery. The love exploding in his chest was almost unbearable; he was already high on cloud nine from the moment he’s seen you present the head so cheerfully.

You see how he looks up at you, emerald eyes almost displaying hearts with how much he was melting. He’s taken your murderous act as an affection, and you couldn’t be more happy, because it’s what you intended.

“Shit, baby… Gonna cum soon,” You panted, thrusting vigorously. Jason hums and flexes his throat to provide you more pleasure, making you tighten the grip on his hair. “You want me to cum down your throat?”

You earned a desperate whine from him, closing his eyes to prove he was waiting for it. His fingers kept their own assault on his prostate, scissoring and stretching the squishy walls, muffled moans escaping him.

God, he looked so fucking gorgeous. He’d look even more gorgeous with your dick ramming inside him.

Jason feels your big cock throb in his mouth and his fingers move more aggressively to pleasure himself, wanting to reach his high at the same time as you. Stimulating your tip with the back of his throat a few times, you moaned loudly with a curse when Jason slightly flicks his tongue over your sensitive underside, forcing an orgasm out of your body. White, thick, warm seeds spurt out from your slit to his awaiting throat as Jason whimpered in delight and shot another layer of cum on the wet stained floor, hips thrusting in the air.

He greedily swallows every drop that spilled down his mouth despite the euphoria making him feel dizzy as his body slightly trembles.

You chuckled, breathing heavily, pleased expression spread across your face. “Good boy. That was such a good throat-fuck.”

The raspy, sultry tone of your voice makes electricity and chills run through Jason’s spine as his walls clench down on his fingers, yearning to be filled. Jason certainly doesn’t have a womb — it’s anatomically impossible — yet he couldn’t help but feel like it’s there, waiting and aching to be fucked and bred. He needs your cum to be pushed so far inside him. Need to be marked entirely as yours inside and out. Need you to rearrange his guts, fuck his brains out, breed him full, then fuck your cum further back into him.

Jason pulled his fingers out, whimpering at the loss of contact, before looking back up at you with begging eyes. “Can you-?” His voice cracks as he swallows, “Take me apart, please. Make me yours, fuck, I wanna be yours.”

You noticed tears gathering in his eyes, as if being rejected of his want to be your possession would be an ultimate heartbreak in his life; a life-threatening, gnawing thorn in his heart that’ll tear him apart piece by piece and shredding his soul. Jason thinks he can’t live without becoming yours, his savior’s. He can’t live without the source of his safety, the man that fulfilled his silly little dream and sacrificed his own sanity for it.

It absolutely amuses you that he’s become so attached just because you’ve driven him away from harm’s way. A little dumb, but he was your little dumb doll.

You gently caress his face and Jason leans into your touch, making your lips curl upwards into a smile. “Of course, doll.”

It leads to Jason being pressed face first on the mattress as you rail him from behind, sinful and alluring noises leaving his lips stained in drool. Your name escapes him like a chanted prayer, hands gripping the sheets, electricity sparking within his mind that left him dumb and unable to think coherently.

“Fuh-fuck! mgh, ah- yes, oh my god—!” He cries out when you pulled almost entirely back and rammed your cock roughly into him, almost seeing stars in his vision.

The roughness in which you handled him, the perfect angle of your hips allowing you to force pleasure out of his body every-time you thrust, the way you push his back down on the mattress to make him arch more into your merciless tactic, leaves Jason absolutely delirious. You didn’t just fuck him good; you fucked him with absolute vigor and violence, occasionally biting strongly on his shoulder to draw blood, showcasing your natural instincts as a serial killer. He feels your big fucking dick throb and gets impossibly bigger inside him each time his blood seeps out the broken skin, and Jason’s head spins at how much it drove arousal in his core.

“Good fuckin’ sex toy,” You grunted, roughly slamming your hips against his and causing a sharp moan to erupt from Jason.

“B-big—! s’too big- fuck!” Jason whines, tears spilling endlessly down his cheeks.

You smirk as you feel your ego skyrocket at being able to reduce a rather muscular man into nothing but a whining, blabbering bitch. “Yeah? I do split you open, don’t I? But you love it since you’re such a fuckin’ slut.”

“oh- aghn! y-yours— hnngh! Your s-slut! No one else’s-!” He chokes out, desperately reaching for you behind him.

“So fuckin’ adorable,” You chuckled and grabbed his hand, pinning it back to the mattress as you hover over him. You seem to fit against each other perfectly well, your large and tall body able to encage him that left Jason’s stomach fluttering. He’s taken a lot liking of the fact you’re bigger than him, considering he’s never been the smaller one when he was with others. It gives him a sense of shelter.

“p-please— pleaseplease- oh! cum— fuck… cum in me again!” Jason blabbered.

You can’t help but comply to his request, fastening your pace and drilling more into him. Incoherent sentences spill from his drooling mouth when he feels your cock pulse within his walls that signified your soon release. There’s a purpose in which you thrust your hips now — more sharp and angled yet a little sloppy, aimed to brush against his prostate and make him feel utterly good.

“Shit… Cummin’, doll.” You grunted right in his ear before shoving him on the mattress by the back of his nape and slamming all the way down on his already gaping hole.

Jason nearly screams, voice cracking, as his orgasm hits like a strong tide of wave at the same time you spilled thick layer of white semen into his fucked out guts. You ride out your orgasm by thrusting slowly a few times as Jason’s body violently shakes from the aftershock. He subconsciously whines in annoyance when some of your previous cum seems to overflow and replaced by your recent one, bucking his hips as if to use your big cock as a plug to keep them all in. His belly felt full from how much you’ve been filling him with your seed yet it still didn’t feel enough. Jason wanted more; he knew you weren’t going full on him yet.

You swiftly turned him around on his back without pulling out and kissed him roughly. Jason mewls into the kiss when the position makes you push more deeper into him, his hands immediately clasping at the back of his thick thighs to pull them up and make it easier for you to fuck.

“My cute little thing,” You murmured against his lips and bit the skin to draw blood, Jason’s hole squeezing down on you from both the pain and pet name. He greedily whimpers your name, holding onto you for life and yearning for more of you despite already receiving what he wants.

It was so fucking adorable and arousing to see him desperate for not just you, but your entire being as well, willing to welcome such darkness with open arms and tearful smile. You weren’t really a desirable person; so many people have thrown themselves at you for your conventionally attractive features and masculine body type that swoons hundreds yet cower away in fear and speak of you in disgrace when shown the demons living inside of you. No one could seem to look past your murderous, cold-blooded psychopathy — some have attempted to, which only resulted in your darkness growing bigger when they break their own promises. You weren’t meant to be loved. Your destiny was written in the stars and the Gods have cursed you with eternity of living in loneliness and madness without cure. You were meant to be feared, a lonely and violent soul that couldn’t be tamed, your sole purpose of existence being a destroyer; nothing more or less.

Jason, however, seems indifferent to your fate.

Instead of running away in disgust and fear at your acts of violence around the city, he was seeking for you. He’s seen what you’ve done, what you could do without feeling remorse, what monsters lie beneath your existence — and still, he graciously opens his heart (and legs) for you. There’s love and desire within his eyes where distaste should be, touch so soft and warm it baptizes your tainted skin. You’re soaked in blood yet Jason takes his time with you to clean them up. Born with thorns yet he willingly prickles his fingers on them.

You’re a danger everywhere you go, but to him, you were home.

It makes your heart clench; he’s broken the Gods curse and it costs him his freedom, because now he’s caught up in your webs. You wouldn’t let him go, like a snake that’s wrapped itself around its prey in a death grip.

Jason wanted to be yours. What better ways to fulfill his wish if not possessing his body, soul, and spirit?

“Sweet dumb thing,” You purred, hips thrusting slow and sensual, unable to forgive parts of his walls that weren’t touched by your cum. “Mine to fuck, ruin, or make love to. That’s right, yeah?”

Jason nods, moaning softly. Your hands now replaced where his were on the back of his thighs, bending him almost in half as you roll your hips to gently brush against every weak spot he has. The sudden shift in rhythm and atmosphere confuses Jason for a bit, his fogged mind unable to comprehend the situation at hand, but the intimacy strikes a further pleasure that was nearly mind-breaking. He’s been reduced to a moaning mess, blood, sweat, tears and cum coating his body.

“p-please,” Jason keened, like it felt agonizing to be loved ever so gently. “I— ah… I want- I want you,” He stuttered out between moans.

“You’re having me, aren’t you?” Replying, you nipped on his neck and sucked, leaving behind a purple bruise.

He nearly cries, shaking his head. A waterfall of tears streamed down his face, and you find yourself captivated by them. It was almost ethereal despite being one of human’s responses to most things imaginable; your victims always shed one or two accompanied by begs of mercy, but all you’ve ever thought of them was amusing. It’s been used as an escaping tactic from you before, which was never successful due to your lack of morality and sympathy towards your target. They were pathetic, but Jason was divine. Tears suited him— not tears of fear, but tears of pleasure and utopia.

Your focus snaps back on reality when Jason suddenly pulled you down by the nape and bit down hard on your shoulder. A pleasured groan leaves your lips at the pain, hips bucking, making him whimper.

“Jason—”

“Please,” He cuts you off and finally murmurs; “Wanna f-feel how… mhm-! how you actually love…”

It strikes something in your core. Despite your perfect skills of hiding your true nature and never being caught, Jason saw it right through you, how you were holding yourself back for his sake. Quite ironic to witness a cold-blooded killer care for someone enough to go soft, even though it looked like you were going rough on him, and it warmed Jason’s heart. But he was a greedy, fucked up human being who wanted all of you. It wouldn’t be enough until he knows he’s taken you fully.

An amused laughter erupts from your chest. Eyes darkening in lust, Jason feels one of your hands wrap around his throat warningly as the other pushed his torso flat down on the mattress. “You… You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, Todd.”

You pull all the way back before ramming in, making Jason let out a loud, choked up moan as his eyes rolled back into his head. Your thrusts relentless and powerful, slamming against Jason’s body with an intensity that made his head spin, your hand holding his throat as a leverage. Your name spills from his lips like a prayer, something that seems to ignite a possessive feeling within you. Jason can’t help but mewl when your grip tightened on his arteries, throwing his head back to let you gain fully control.

The way he’s so obedient and putty in your hands despite knowing you can kill him if you truly meant to makes you love him even more, fucking him and taking away his ability to breathe wasn’t enough. Greediness turning overboard with the darkness and psychopathy that lies within your existence; you almost wanted to cut him open and crawl inside his guts so you could truly claim Jason, inside and out. You wanted to be more closer to him, see how far you can go without Jason pushing you away or getting disturbed.

Jason’s eyes widened when a cold metallic silver touched his cheek, seeing you holding your signature knife through blurred vision from his tears. However, he doesn’t flinch away like you expected him to, instead his walls squeezes down on your cock and his own twitched against his stomach. The unexpected reaction pulls a loud groan out of you, your hips bucking.

“Shit, Jay… You lettin’ me kill you or somethin’? Good fucking cunt just tightened on me,” You rasped, thrusting your cock against his prostate.

Jason gasps, his hands grabbing the mattress and holding it in a tight grip. It’s so shameful how turned on he was at the danger that lurked around you, his usually sharp instincts relinquished to be replaced by naiveté and stupidity for love. He must’ve gone insane; getting killed was one of his triggers because of his past yet his soul yielded nothing in retaliation to the possibility of your blade slicing through him. All of him seems to have come to love and trust you too much just because you’ve decapitated the beast his entire existence feared, which a part of him found utterly ridiculous and idiotic, but not enough to stop.

He wouldn’t stop himself from loving you — not when you’ve given him the love he always yearned for.

You lean in and ghost your lips over his as you dragged the knife on his torso, lightly scraping him. Jason’s breath quickens, his pupils blown wide in lust and need, anticipation seemingly running through his body as his moans turned into desperate whines.

“p-please…!” He chokes out a whisper, rolling his head to the side and whimpering when you snapped your hips warningly on his. “feels— fuck! feels g-good—! c-carve me… hngh! carve me u-up-! shit… make me fuckin’ bleed…! please,” Jason nearly cries for you.

Groaning out a curse, you reflexively bite down hard on the crook of his neck and push more of your cock inside him, causing a loud keen to erupt from Jason as he squirms and cums on his own stomach at the addictive sense of pleasure and pain shooting through his body.

You licked the blood that seeped out from his skin, satisfied at the clear bite mark you’ve left visible before sensually grinding your hips. Jason whimpered quietly, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“That’s it, doll. Let go, feel good. m’not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. It’ll all feel good,” Whispering sweet words, you slowly press the tip of the knife just above the v line of his hip and drag it down. Jason hissed at the prickle of pain and tensed up, but the pleasure of your cock stimulating his sensitive walls was too great that forced him to relax. “It’s alright, doll. Jus’ carving you up with my name, so you’ll be mine forever. Isn’t that what you want? Be fuckin’ mine?”

Jason moaned softly, nodding his head. Series of pleasepleaseplease blabber out of him accompanied by heavenly noises he’s been making since you started taking him apart, his brain too fucked out that forcibly twisted pain into pleasure as all he could think about was becoming yours. You, his savior, his God, claiming him by marking him up with your name. Jason feels like he could fucking squirt from just that thought alone.

His blood seeping out from the letters of your name arouses you to no end, your cock throbbing inside him while you continue to move, the darkness within you being thoroughly fed of its bloodthirsty hunger. This is the first time it doesn’t gnaw at your skin to drive your knife deeper, pull the guts out, and splatter redness everywhere; instead, it wanted to be gentle, as if Jason was a significant existence too precious to hurt even for the Devil. A proof that Jason was always meant to be yours, the only one who the monster inside you would rather love than kill.

Carving the last letter, you laughed breathlessly in satisfaction and stabbed the knife on the headboard before slamming your lips against his, devouring his pleasurable noises. Jason whines, arms wrapping around your neck to pull you impossibly closer, arching his back when you switched into a much faster and rougher pace.

“Cummin’, fuck!” You grunted, to which Jason wrapped his legs around your hips to make sure it stays in.

“I-in— in me… fuck- oh my god— please… please, cum in me. Make me full again, p-please…” He begs, clenching his walls around you to push you over the edge, his own orgasm nearing.

Seeing him covered in his own tears, sweat, blood and drool fills you with nothing but pure ecstasy knowing it’s all because of you. The most appealing, ravishing man being a slutty mess right beneath you, begging to be bred and full of your cum, does feed too much into your ego. No one can do anything to take you away from him now, because you’re wrapped around his fingers as much as he is around yours.

“Anythin’ for ya, doll.” You chuckled, thrusting a couple more times before shoving your twitching cock deep into his guts with a moan and releasing your load. Jason mewls, his hole throbbing and squeezing down on you as he throws his head back, tainting his abdomen once more.

Riding out both of your highs, you let out a raspy groan and kissed his lips again, Jason weakly reciprocating due to the overstimulation. His body trembled hard, mind almost shutting down from the exhaustion and too much euphoria. “So good, doll. Took me like a good fuckin’ boy. Fuckin’ amazing.” You praised.

Jason could still see darkness in your eyes, the murderous devil, but there’s a hint of happiness he didn’t recognize before. Love and adoration filled your expression despite the violence engraved in your soul, and Jason finds himself smiling against your lips lightheadedly.

He whispers your name like a forbidden secret, then a curse that completely binds you to him; “I love you.”

You could get used to this, you suppose. There’s nothing more poetic than violence meeting love — two opposites can’t coexist with each other, but perhaps it’ll be forced to. After all, the Devil in you decided he was an untouchable divinity no one shall ever harm, not even yourself, despite its never-ending monstrosity towards humanity.

“I love you too, my Jason.”

When Joker’s decapitated head on a makeshift spear turned up that night, stacked upright in front of Arkham Asylum with blood splattered across the ground in words ‘True Justice for the Tortured Souls’ and a bloody ghostface mask laid aside for everyone else to see, Jason knew he was now in safe hands.

People say, never make a deal with the devil.

They never said he couldn’t love one, did they?

2K notes · View notes

urstruly-ghst · 6 months ago

Text

peek-a-boo ! - dorm leaders

in which you like hiding in the most random places and surprising them

authors note: like they're gonna be so mad but ykw they love u

ALSO OMG 1K FOLLOWERS ??!! ty everyoneee <3!

riddle rosehearts

you're lucky, riddle notes, he is used to these antics from che'nya. he was so blessed to know those tactics, because riddle wouldn't know what to do if he was unprepared of this situation: you were hanging upside down because you hid on top of his closet!

smiling and humming happily, you edge close to the very end of the closet door; as if you're taunting him.

"heyyy riddle!"

"you get down this instant and be careful!" riddle said mortified as he started pulling his pillows and duvets to the ground to cushion your fall. you jumped and riddle yelled and used his magic to make you float.

"my rose..." he said with a glare as his heart thumped hard against his chest. "never do that again."

leona kingscholar

herbivore is what he calls you, however he feels like that calling you "kitten" is now appropriate. you act like some juvenile kitten who just saw the world. though, leona isn't keen on that behaviour.

leona is on the verge of assigning ruggie to you now, with how your conquest to fright him with the many times you put yourself in places you shouldn't be in. for example, the dorm's tall trees.

"herbivore!" leona growled as his heart sank when he heard from ruggie you disappeared somewhere in the dorm. you whistle and shake a bit to signal to leona you were up on the tree.

"hey, kingscholar!" you said smugly as you lounged atop the tree. leona felt scared and irritated, why must you make things difficult before he has to nap or practice? he struck the tree and made into sand before catching you, his grunt and your wide eyed stare was enough to send the dorm into a frenzy.

"you are not leaving my side, understood?" leona said as he wrapped his tail around you.

azul ashengrotto

azul is still trying to get used to how legs work and being in high up places. so why must you torture him and hide in the most inconvenient of places? the most outrageous was his laundry basket, which mind you, now smells like you! (not that he minds, but still!)

he's trying to find you in the vast dorm room, azul curses his extensive dorm sometimes when it came to how you hide. azul thinks that floyd is also helping you, which is worse, now he has to deal with double the trouble.

"beryl...? come on out, we have plans remember?" azul calls out a bit wary and frustrated that it was dead silent and you may have been hiding for too long. oh, sevens, you may be hungry!

"boo." you say as you grab onto his ankles, azul shrieked and fell. his legs failing him, you giggle as you crawl out of the bottom of some floor board? azul glared as he recovered composure.

"we're making a new deal." azul says as he readies himself to make a contract with one new rule: stop sneaking up on him.

kalim al asim

it wasn't kalim's problem to find you, jamil or someone else does. it infuriates jamil that kalim joins in on your little escapades. sometimes you make it a contest to see if one can hide longer.

though, kalim does get scared sometimes. you learned some tricks from him too, and it is a disadvantage to him especially when you disappear for too long. for example, right now, you're nowhere to be seen and his spacious dorm makes the search even more difficult.

"sunshine? sunshineee?" kalim echoes in the hallway, jamil also on a search for you on the other end of the dorm. it was fun at first but it was concerning and record-breaking. kalim turned a corner and a plant grabbed onto him. kalim nearly flooded the plant until he realized it was you.

"easyy, baby!" you say as he almost sent a flood your way. kalim sighed in relief, and smiled brightly because you now were found!

"yeah, well... you know how i am with being alone!" kalim giggled nervously, as if to remind you of his status and what that entails. you nodded and said "oh" with the realization. lesson learned i guess?

vil schoenheit

you're lovable, vil would say, as his patience thin at the prospect of you disappearing. usually, it was easy to find you. predictable is what vil calls your hiding skills. also, rook hunt happily indulges in the request of finding you (unfair with his unique magic.)

today, however, vil was on his own trying to find you in the dorm. he was an expert at the little nooks and crannies of the dorm. however he was bested because you dropped by, literally, in front of him effectively startling him.

"kya!" vil said as he brought out his wand ready to attack. you smile as you brush yourself off, falling from the chandelier. he sputtered before glaring. vil checked your vitals and tried to see if any injury was there.

"hiya sweetie!" you chirped and vil clicks his tongue as he carefully inspected you. once he's done, he flicks your forehead with a glare.

"don't 'sweetie' me, potato. you could've been hurt. now, come. we are overdue for a good scolding and pampering" vil said with a glare as if he is making note of a new potion to stop your hiding tendency.

idia shroud

frankly, idia thinks you're insane. he even straight up considers bringing you to a facility to check up on your mental capacity. why? who hides in a room filled with computers with no jacket? do you know how cold those rooms are? idia and ortho found you smiling as you hid in some closet box where the power supply is.

and trust, idia keeps you under lock and key after that. but you had your ways, you'd hide under the desk, the bed. behind his clothes, anything. it came to the point idia made a software called, "find prefect."

"oh geez. ortho boot up find prefect" idia said as he saw how you're not in his room again. idia was jittery knowing that you'd bribe ortho into not revealing where you are for a prank, which ortho seems to love lately.

as ortho boots up, it takes a while, you surprise him by covering his eyes. a loud shriek occurred as the lights turned off too. idia burns up and ortho giggled as he finally finished booting up

"prefect is 4 centimeters away from your location!"

malleus draconia

how adorable, malleus says, as you try to hide from his careful eye. he's quite used to lilia and his hiding skills, so you can't hide no matter how hard you try. yet, malleus entertains this folly and pretends to be shocked whenever you try to spook him.

though, malleus gets concerned by how you take risks in hiding at the most obsecure of places. his personal fright was you hiding by the moat because it was the least expected. as malleus dries you up, he shakes his head and gently scolds you.

"you have to admit, the moat is a good place to hide" you chide as malleus uses his magic to lift you away from the moat. you drip from being sprung from the water and shiver at the wind.

"it is quite the unexpected turn. but i'd rather have my dear child of man safe and dry." malleus scolds as he dries you up and pinches your cheek to scold you.

"ahh fine" you surrender, knowing you really can't fight his logic, you were starting to cramp up from trying to stay afloat.

2K notes · View notes

dixonsbugaboo · 9 days ago

Text

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.

ꜱᴀᴊᴀ ʙᴏʏꜱ🎵

𝘊��𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 1 - 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶

Fem!Reader x Saja Boys

Summary: Reincarnated in the body of a demon from the last film you saw before you died, you have decided to change the script of the story in your favour. But you didn't count on your presence in the story changing everything.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, Jinu being an asshole, ooc (probably), kinda self-disdain too, no proofread (oops)

Word count: 3300+

A/N: Hey there! First of all, please remember that English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes (sorry about that), and this is the first time I've written for this fandom, but the hype is very real and I wanted to join in on the Saja fanfic craze. I hope you like it :)

Ch. 0

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

From your perspective, being the producer of the Saja Boys was a wonderful idea. But in reality, it was a disaster and a task that would drain your will to live... if you were alive.

The Saja Boys were demons, in the most literal sense of the word, and they drove you crazy. They tested your patience, trampled on your pride, and were incapable of listening to your advice. You should have realised how difficult it would be to carry out your plan from the moment you first met Jinu... and you almost pulled each other's hair out, literally.

In the movie, Jinu was handsome, but in reality... he was simply breathtaking. Even in his demonic form, he was the most attractive man you had ever seen, with patterns crossing his sharp face like tattoos and radiant eyes that seemed to see right through you. Your demonic form, on the other hand, was a far cry from what a normal human would look like: with horns sticking out of your forehead, sharp teeth and eyes that were too big and outstanding. You were sure that if you could look at yourself in a mirror, your own reflection would be depressed.

Jinu walked confidently, heading in an unknown direction, not caring in the slightest that another creature from the underworld was literally drooling and staring at him. Or so you thought...

"Is this a staring contest?"

You tensed immediately when he stopped walking and spoke, his back still facing you, clearly addressing you.

"... Excuse me?"

"I asked you if this is a staring contest. Can you stop gawking at me? You're going to wear out my face...."

Damn conceited demon. There's nothing worse in the world than an attractive man who is aware of his good looks. Lesson learned.

You decided to continue on your way because you had a feeling that if the conversation continued, you would end up trying to scratch his eyes out with your claws.

"... he's not THAT handsome," you muttered as you walked away.

Silly you, Jinu heard you and teleported right in front of you, so you ended up bumping into his chest. Which, by the way, was pretty hard... considering you hit your nose bad, and now it hurted like hell.

"Pardon me?" he asked, hands on his hips and an arrogant look on his face. "I think you just lied to yourself." That smirk was driving you crazy.

"Lie? HA! All I see in front of me is a smug demon tortured by his past who tries to improve his days by bothering others because he has nothing better to do." You replied, rubbing your sore nose. You would never admit that, before you died, you were sure that if he were real, you would give him your soul without hesitating.

Apparently, your comment bothered him much more than you expected, and when he grabbed you by the shoulders, digging his claws into your skin, you were about to scream. The only thing that stopped you was your pride and the sheer terror that gripped your throat.

"You don't know anything about me. You don't know me."

Oops. That's right. You weren't supposed to have seen him before and didn't know anything about him. First mistake. But... what if you took advantage of the situation to speed things up? All you had to do was try to get along with him... and plant the seed of an idea...

"You know what?" you managed to say as you pulled his hands away from your shoulders, which were sore from his strong grip.

You had just dodged a possible death (if that was even possible, giving you were already dead) at the hands of your number one platonic crush. "You're right." You pretended to brush dust off your shoulders. "I don't know you. But I've heard of a demon who sounds a lot like you... and who was supposedly a musician in his human life."

Jinu raised his eyebrows, surprised and apparently calmer, letting his arms fall to his sides. Damn, he was tall. Next to him, you looked like a mushroom. A mushroom with horns and popping eyes.

"You know, before I died, I used to write music," you said, trying to plant the seed of the idea.

It wasn't entirely a lie... you did write music, although the demon whose body you occupied, through his memories, you learned that he had absolutely no knowledge of it, since they were a painter.

Jinu's gaze made it clear, however, that he had no idea what you were talking about. In fact, he thought you were crazy and waited respectfully for you to finish your ramblings so he could walk away and never come back.

"The thing is..." you continued. The poor guy wasn't very bright. "In the end, isn't it music that keeps us down here? Besides Gwi-ma, of course." You paused, looking for some response in his eyes. "Because of the hunters... because they sing... because their music keeps the Honmoon alive..." You continued, speaking slowly, trying to make him think it was his idea... but he didn't seem very interested. In fact, he looked at you as if he wanted to leave as soon as possible to get back to his miserable life in the underworld.

You snorted, bit your lower lip and decided to give up. What was the point of trying to get a demon with a brain the size of a peanut to understand the plan that, according to the script, would (temporarily) destroy the Honmoon? Because Jinu was clearly incapable of coming to that conclusion on his own.

You took a deep breath and decided to plant the seed deep in his mind, by force, to see if he would water it. As a gift.

"... Sometimes I think, oh, how awful it must be to live down here, hungry for souls, because of those tacky singers! And I realise that the problem has always been the same: the source of their power, which turns out to be the people who listen to their music... you know, right? their fans?"

Jinu nodded slowly, finally understanding where you were going with this.

"Guess we manage to steal their fans and... Ta-da! We're free!" You finish with a dramatic pose, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. At no point do you mention that this plan, if executed well, could be a feast for Gwi-ma, because that's not part of your scheme... although you'll figure out a way to deal with that in the future, when necessary.

Jinu remained silent, scrutinizing you.

Playing dumb didn't work for him, because even though his plan was to play bonkers so you would leave him alone, your intentions were apparently far from stopping talking anytime soon. Furthermore, he had been mulling over that idea long before you mentioned it... but he found it striking that you had thought of it. Did you say you wrote music?

You could even be useful for his plan...

Was that a sign to get started?

"You know what? I think it's a good idea," he finally said, after seriously considering disappearing so he would never have to see you again. "It might even work."

"Of course it would work, you idiot!" you shouted in exasperation, tired of the back and forth of the conversation.

Clearly, Jinu didn't like being called an idiot very much, and he stared at you with one eyebrow raised, weighing up whether it was worth slapping one of your eyebrows off. After all, even though you were a little rude and extremely irritating, with that brain of yours, you could be useful to him. And Jinu never let potential tools get away.

You cleared your throat, looking semi-serious again, before continuing: "The thing is... who knows? If someone who could sing found... I don't know... four other people who could sing... and a successful producer in her previous life... they could negotiate with Gwi-ma to form a band... and, you know, succeed?

You were tired of Jinu.

Jinu was tired of you.

But you needed Jinu to find the rest of the Saja Boys, and Jinu didn't mind a producer (not as successful as she claimed to be) with similar ideals to his... even though you were both sure that the other was the stupidest person in the underworld.

In the end, you decided that the best thing for both of you was to work together... even if that meant exchanging ideas again.

But if you thought that encounter had been disastrous, it was because you couldn't even imagine what it would be like to meet the others. Or to have them all together in one room. Or to explain to them how the roles and ‘personalities’ of a modern boy band work... or to get them to stop flirting with you just for fun. Or, quite simply, to get them to pay you the slightest bit of attention.

"I refuse to play the baby, even if Jinu asks me to. Nuh-huh. Not happening."

You put your hands over your face in frustration. Everything was more difficult because you already knew the roles played by each of Jinu's friends. And the hardest part was that they listened to Jinu and Jinu only, not to you, a grumpy, bossy stranger.

"But to satisfy the fans' absurd need to infantilise idols, there has to be one member of the group who behaves a little more like a youngster, Byeol." you said through your hands, tired of arguing.

It was a surprise (though it made sense) to discover that Jinu's friends had real names and not literal descriptions of their roles in the group. It was also a surprise to discover that Sang, whom you knew as Abby by his stage name, was the only one who really liked his role in the band: the himbo, muscular gym rat.

Byeol flatly refused to play the adorable maknae. Even though he was the youngest... and whose physique was more like that of a young boy.

Dasom wanted to be the leader, not the flirtatious Don Juan. Even though it had already been made clear that Jinu would be the leader.

And Minjun wanted to be the team mascot. Even though you had explained to him hundreds of times that boy bands didn't have mascots.

Jinu, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy your frustration. He knew your idea was good, especially after studying current music trends and fan preferences himself, but he would rather die (again) than confess that you were right.

You just wanted to pull your eyelashes out from the stress they were causing you. Because when they weren't complaining about your ideas, they were playing games to make you agitated and blush. Which was difficult when your lack of self-esteem and patience couldn't properly process the flirting and romantic jokes that Dasom, in particular, tried on you.

In the end, at the expense of your mental health, you reached an agreement: you would be strictly partners, and you would work as a team for the common good (making Gwi-ma happy so he would give you some space) and at the same time, for personal reasons: Jinu wanted Gwi-ma to erase his memories, Dasom and Minjun wanted to leave the underworld, even if only temporarily, Sang wanted to improve his quality of life in hell once they had destroyed the Honmoon... and no one knew exactly what Byeol wanted.

Thanks to Jinu, they accepted their roles and decided on their stage names (which, thank goodness, you didn't have to argue with them about, because they were able to come up with them on their own) and ended up accepting you as their producer and something like a secretary or manager or something in between... a helping hand to make their plan succeed.

In return, you only asked for three things: no flirting with you, even as a joke (or seriously), no asking what exactly you would get in return, and never, ever, telling Gwi-ma about yourself, since he didn't know you existed... and if he found out that a demon from his kingdom had a soul and wasn't under his control... you'd be dead.

You would think of something to prevent the death of the humans, Rumi's very avoidable misunderstanding with the others, Jinu's death and all that...in time.

For now, all your attention would have to go into producing their debut and making it a resounding success... and also convincing the boys that pastel pink was sexy.

They clearly had talent. Without using their powers, they were good singers, and you were surprised by Dasom's, now known as Romance, skills as a dancer and choreographer. Baby rapped effortlessly and was able to help you write, Abby had an incredible memory and physical resistance, Mystery had a heavenly voice, and then there was Jinu... who had all of the above, bathed in sarcasm. From that first encounter, your friendship never quite clicked. But you didn't care, because he would clearly end up with Rumi and they would live happily ever after, right?

Before you pitched the idea to Gwi-ma, you wanted them to be ready. You wanted their debut to be perfect. At first, simply because it was your plan, and because it was necessary for the story to move forward. But as time went by, it was also for their sake. Because even though they constantly drove you crazy and tested your patience, you learned to care for them. After all, part of your plan was to give them back their souls, and to do that, you had to understand them as best you could.

You learned that Baby was the most mature of them all despite being the youngest, even though he never talked about his past as a human beyond admitting that he had been a writer. You had the best conversations with him. He knew how to listen, he knew how to debate, and he was intelligent. Attractive, if you were asked for your honest opinion. One day, after rehearsal, you found him deep in thought, writing notes in a notebook. Although he found it difficult to open up to you, he finally admitted that even in the underworld he still liked to write, especially fantasy, and you convinced him to let you read something. After giving him your honest opinion in the form of constructive criticism and silly jokes, you two became closer. You found Baby to be a very interesting, attractive person with a great talent for storytelling. And to Baby, you were a reliable critic, smart (even if Jinu said otherwise), and although a bit grumpy, very funny. He learned to enjoy his time with you and to miss you when you weren't around. You were the one who could offer him the best conversation... and the best company.

Abby was much sweeter, and sometimes a bit childish. He was competitive and affectionate, hungry for physical contact. Apparently, he had been the eldest son in a military family, and from a very young age he had been raised to be the head of the family. That meant he was the only one of his siblings who couldn't have time for his mother's affection, because he had to be the strongest, and feelings only weakened men. Behind his confident gaze was a child who had never received a hug from his mother. The day you dyed his hair, he discovered how much he liked having his hair stroked, and since then, every now and then he asks you to do it, pretending it's good for his muscles, ignoring the fact that you both know it's the worst lie ever told. But after learning his story, you decided not to say a word about it and let him rest his head on your lap so you could run your fingers through his soft hair. What you didn't know was that, over time, it became Abby's favourite place, and that sometimes, when you hummed without realising while caressing him, he felt like he had finally left the underworld and came home. Because that's what you were starting to be to him.

At first, Mystery was the hardest to deal with, as he was the least vocal of the five. And not being able to see his expression made it even harder to understand his emotions. Was he happy? Sad? Angry? Maybe it was because he had gotten too into his role, but he was a complete mystery. Little by little, you learned to read between the lines, to interpret his silences. When he tilted his head to one side because he was curious, when he lowered his chin because he was angry... He was a bit like a kitten. And you understood why he insisted in been a mascot... without the need to talk, but kinda expressive. You learned that he was an orphan and had lived most of his life alone. As time went by and you learned to understand him, he opened up to you, little by little. He talked to you more, trusted you more. Until he explained that he had once been in love, that his heart had been broken, and that since then he had found it difficult to express himself with words and to open up to people. But for some reason, with you it was different. You never judged him, even though he went along with the others to tease and joke with you, and you were always patient with him. You wanted to understand him... and now he wanted to learn from you and try again to open up to people.

Romance hid a genuinely cheerful and funny boy behind a facade of smiles and empty flirting. Apparently, he had been a dancer in his human life, hence his talent, and he had had four older sisters, which made him the most patient with you. At first he was cold towards you, apparently because you reminded him of a life he couldn't return to, but little by little he came to understand that you had nothing to do with his sisters, hius past and his decisions, and that being distant towards you didn't benefit him at all. Gradually you talked more and more, understanding each other's tastes, and coming to enjoy each other's company. When Romance wasn't trying to embarrass you just for fun, his company could even be enjoyable. And although he didn't want to admit it, he liked spending time with you more and more, and he was beginning to enjoy getting on your nerves in a different way.

Jinu, on the other hand, was the one who had remained the most distant from you. You couldn't say why, but that's how it was. Maybe he was disgusted by your appearance, or maybe he was bothered by the smell of your breath, but he always stayed several steps away from you. He tried to look unbothered, calm, and composed, as long as he wasn't picking on you. How considerate. In fact, he practically only spoke to you directly to annoy you. It was frustrating because you knew he was sweet and kind to Rumi, but for some reason, with you, he was... like that. You wanted to strangle him every time he contradicted you or when he clearly pretended to be fine when his memories were torturing him. You couldn't see that he always turned to look at you when you turned away, that he was the one who cared most about you getting some rest, and that he was actually cold to you to try to prove to himself that you weren't important. That you were expendable. That you were stupid, no fun, not attractive at all, and in no way interesting. Because if he got closer to you, it could mean moving away from his goal.

︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿︿

Ch. 2

A/N: Well! Finally, a real chapter. I hope it was interesting enough to make you want to keep reading… My intention is to let the relationships develop slowly, and as the story progresses, and finally let you choose who will win your heart (wink). For now, everyone deserves a chance, right? Even Jinu, who acts all tough. Or should Jinu end up with Rumi, because they didn't give us that satisfaction in the movie?

Anyway, I hope you liked it and that you want to keep reading :)

See you soon,

Nun🐇

803 notes · View notes

serinic · 1 month ago

Text

Inkfluence (01) | JJK

pairing: politician jk x journalist reader

warnings: yandere jk, corruption, sensitive topics, deaths, future smut (dub-con).

words: 1.8k+

As vile as it sounds, politics has decayed into a ruthless game—where truth is treason, and those who pursue it are silenced, buried beneath the crushing weight of power. You entered the game with eyes wide open, fully aware there may be no escape. But it turned far more sinister when its master took a strange interest in a mere pawn—you.

“It's raining so hard again. The streets will be flooded soon,” Jiwoo sighed for the third time, gazing out the window. You walked toward her and did the same—staring through the glass that kept you both from getting soaked. You frowned as you watched people on the street, doing their best to avoid the pouring rain. As much as you wanted to help them—you couldn’t. Your landlord would kick you out for letting random people into her apartment.

Your heart ached even more when you saw children—some crying, some praying—probably begging for the rain to stop.

But your sorrow quickly turned into rage when you heard on the TV that the mayor—now former—had left the country and taken the people's money with him. The money that was supposed to be for flood control, which he kept talking about just last month.

You and Jiwoo both turned around and looked at the screen, disgrace and anger evident on your faces. You both knew this would happen—but you didn’t expect him to steal the money so quickly. Our money.

You looked out the window again, back at the people. Another politician had failed them. The man who promised that this city would be better, that the people would have a better life—just months ago.

The same man who, in the end, stole someone’s future, someone’s chance at a better life, and fled to another country to enjoy a life of luxury.

Many politicians have done the same—some even worse—to the point that you’ve grown used to it.

But what angered you more was how citizens still kept voting for the same people who were turning their lives into a living hell.

Had they really not learned?

“It's the people's money, not theirs!” you exclaimed, emphasizing each word—every syllable coming straight from your heart. Jiwoo looked at you sadly and bit her lower lip. “I know.”

“Ms. Y/N, could you please rewrite your work? Choose more appropriate words.”

Your boss placed the article you submitted on your desk. Your eyes widened—what did you just hear? You’re a journalist, for fuck’s sake!

You stood up and spoke firmly, “But we are journalists. We speak the truth and do not sugarcoat words!” You quickly pressed your lips together when she shot you a glare.

“Please, just do what I said,” she replied, flashing you a fake smile and giving a careless shrug before walking back to her office.

You stared at her back with defeated eyes. What’s happening to our profession? Did they really forget our oath?

“You know, the company's just being careful. None of us want to become a target, especially with everything going on right now.” Doa, your co-worker, placed her hands on your shoulders. Her words made your mind drift back to what happened just a week ago.

The police had stopped people from getting too close to the body. A garbage collector was the one who found it and immediately called the authorities.

The head was covered with a black trash bag, and several wounds were visible on the corpse. "Sir, what do you think?" one of the officers asked the investigator, who was crouched beside the body, studying it closely.

"Looks like he was tortured first… then killed. Body was dumped here carelessly," the investigator replied grimly.

Later, the victim was identified as Min Do-hyun, a reporter from CLM.

It was said that shortly before his disappearance, Min Do-hyun had been seen at a press conference held by Governor Kim Ji-hoon. He had questioned the governor about the missing healthcare funds—and it looked like Do-hyun struck a nerve. A week later, he was found lifeless. You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to calm yourself. Looking at Doa, you forced a smile. She nodded slightly and returned to her cubicle. You sat down, fully aware that people like you—too curious, too bold—could end up just like Do-hyun. Once again, anger began to consume you. People in your profession were being silenced for speaking the truth, for trying to protect the public from distortion, disinformation, and evil. You hadn’t spent years honing your craft just to end up as a corpse, unfinished and unheard. You were terrified but your passion to help people burned brighter than your fear.

“Are you all ready?” Mr. Kim cheered enthusiastically. Why the hell is he happy?

The company you work for is one of the few companies invited to the President's party. Ironic, isn’t it? You people were supposed to stand against corrupt people, and President Jeon Jae-won is practically one of them—maybe even the root of it all. It seems like even the company you work for has been bought. They need reporters like you to sugarcoat their names ahead of the upcoming election. You've thought about resigning. But maybe this is an opportunity. An opportunity to observe, to listen, to uncover. The people attending this party might be the same ones funding and enabling these politicians. You need to know who they are. You plan to gather as much information and evidence as you can. You won’t stop until you drag them all down. This country, and its people—deserve a better future.

“Everyone, make sure to smile and watch what you say. We need to stay on the president's good side!” he declared again, the warning in his tone was clear. You bit your tongue to stop yourself from saying something that would get you kicked out of the building on the spot. Money and greed really do change people, your boss is living proof of that.

You stepped out of the car and immediately saw several people—no, diehard supporters of the Jeons—right in front of the building. Almost every one of them held banners and props. You closed your eyes. These people irritate you! The Jeons are literally the worst animals in this country, and yet they still have their support? Are these people even thinking? When you opened your eyes again, something caught your attention—a certain person. Your eyes widened, and your mouth fell open in shock. Jiwoo noticed and asked, “What happened? Are you okay?” You didn’t reply at first, frozen by what you saw. After a moment, you managed to gather yourself and said, “What the fuck? No, I’m not okay! I just saw my mother in the crowd. What the hell?”

Your eyes remained fixed on the female figure. Jiwoo followed your gaze and gasped when she recognized the woman, your mother.

Your mother didn’t seem to notice you yet. You were about to walk toward her when Jiwoo grabbed your hand. Your co-workers and other reporters from different companies were already entering the building. You sighed. You’d deal with her later, you thought, as you and your friend stepped inside. You gasped at the sight before you—the place was stunning and definitely expensive. You tsked quietly. This might be one of the few things the people’s taxes were actually spent on. You and the others took your seats. There were specific tables assigned for particular people and companies. Buffets were set up around the room. You loved food—really, you did—but knowing whose money had paid for it made it impossible to eat.

You were busy talking to Jiwoo, secretly badmouthing those animals, when an uncomfortable feeling crept over you—it felt like someone was watching. You scanned the room but found no one staring. Maybe you were imagining things, or perhaps it was a ghost longing for justice. You tried to brush it off, and after a minute, the feeling faded. You started observing your surroundings. More people had arrived—some you knew, others you didn’t—but one thing was clear: those seated apart from your section were filthy rich. Suddenly, a spotlight hit the stage, drawing everyone’s attention. The host greeted the crowd, but your focus drifted as that familiar sensation returned—the feeling of being watched.

You darted your gaze to the side and looked up toward the balcony. Immediately, your eyes locked with his—he was staring directly at you. Your breath hitched. Jeon Jungkook: the oldest son of Jeon Jae-won, mayor of another city and rumored candidate for the position of governor. You stared at each other for too long, unable to look away. His eyes were dark—so dark that the longer you looked, the more it felt like you were being pulled from heaven straight down to hell.

If it was a sin to look at him, you’d gladly be a sinner. No one knows how long you two held that gaze. The tension became unbearable, and finally, you forced yourself to turn away, focusing back on the stage.

You were just a girl, you couldn’t help but look at him again. But this time, he was gone. Only a dominating aura remained in that balcony. You pinched the bridge of your nose, dismissing both him and your racing thoughts.

You’d been so focused on Jungkook, you hadn’t noticed his father speaking on stage. Soon, Jae-won began introducing his family: his wife, then his eldest son—Jeon Jungkook—who stood beside his father, who looked proud as ever. Once again, Jungkook’s eyes found yours. You quickly looked away and instead watched his brother being introduced. Jae-won had another son, Jeon Jung-hyun, who appeared to be your age and clearly the black sheep of the family, judging by how uninterested he looked in the event.

Jae-won didn’t forget to address his political party for the upcoming election—the highlight of the night. Jungkook was obviously a key member. Once the announcement ended and the stage shifted to entertainment, you excused yourself. You approached a guard and asked where the bathroom was. He gave directions, but they were confusing, and you almost asked him to repeat when another guard nudged him, whispered something, and both glanced at you before walking away. You really needed to pee. You headed upstairs and turned left as instructed. But there were many locked doors. ‘Shit,’ you thought, your bladder protesting loudly. You found another set of stairs and without hesitation, went up.

You opened the first door you saw and gratefully, it was the room you needed. After finishing, you were about to leave when you heard voices nearby. Curious, you cracked the door open slightly and peeked outside. You froze. President Jae-won was speaking with an unfamiliar man. This was your chance.

You pulled out your phone and hit record. “Park Chan-woo was a great man, but he fucked up and ended up jailed in another country,” Jae-won said, lighting a cigarette.

“What should we do now?” the man asked. Jae-won shrugged coldly. His words left you stunned. “It won’t be long before he drags us down with him. Silence that motherfucker before he even gets the chance.”

The president patted the man’s shoulder and walked downstairs. You slowly closed the door, careful not to make a sound. You stopped the recorder and turn off your phone. Anxiety and dark, terrifying thoughts clouded your mind. You felt trapped, scared to open the door as if the devil himself would drag you to hell. Thirty minutes passed. You had to get out. It was now or never. You calmed yourself, grabbed the handle, and opened the door. You stumbled back, coming face to face with the devil himself—Jeon Jungkook. His right hand was in his pocket, while his left extended toward you.

"Give me your phone."

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

#bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #yandere jungkook #yandere #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts imagine

471 notes · View notes

muntitled · 1 year ago

Text

𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Aegon Targaryen x Fem!reader

Summary: You were the only one who truly saw the tortured king. Not his mother, not his brother, and certainly not his wife.

Warning: Language, Infidelity, Humiliation, Toxicity, King Complex, Slight Angst, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Canon typical Incest, Grinding, Forced orgasm, King Kink?, Dom/Sub Themes, Controlled Orgasm, Ownership Kink, Dub/Con, Groping, Humping, Pussy rubbing, Exhibition Kink

This isn't very good, I admit. I just needed to get it out of my head.

Despite your eye following the pathway of High Valyrian ink splashed on the weathered pages of your book, your brain takes forever to process the words.. It is a story you had enjoyed since the days of your wetnurse but now you are focused on the utter injustices occurring by the dinner table before you. You always found your nose nestled in a book throughout dinner, all save for this one.

The Queen mother is bent over her plate, forgetting her table manners in the vehemence of her passions, while Aemond assumes a hostile glare from his perch at the head of the table. Aegon sits slumped in between you and Helena, with his half lidded eyes so painfully tedious as he prods at his food, while these fake gods scold him from above.

"And to make matters impossibly worse, you failed to display even a shred of sympathy towards his condition-" Despite the nature of his mother's tone, it does not stop Aegon from rebutting where necessary, with a quick, sharpness on his tongue.

"This 'condition' you speak of, being the imprisonment of a wealthy merchant's stupid son." Aegon releases a short, winded chuckle, one that you share behind the concealment of your book. "Perhaps he shouldn't have gotten himself captured."

"He is apart of your battalion, Aegon- fighting your war-"

"I am not at war. As I sit here, I am not harbouring any ill feelings towards any party-"

Aemond interrupts, "All you think about is fucking and drinking-"

"Precisely brother!" Aegon proceeds to turn to his mother, with his hands splayed outwards he reiterates, "All I think about is fucking and drinking,"

A loud, unladylike snort escapes the confines of your throat which you attempt to sheath with a cough as you study the words in your book. Aemond rolls his eyes while Aegon throws a blatant smirk beside you- "See Mother! Now our dear cousin has fallen ill as a result of the animosity stirred by your incessant scolding!” Aegon’s voice is doused in sarcasm as he rubs his hand into your shoulder, “All because of your nagging, mother," Alicent’s eyes darken as her voice descends into caution "Aegon. Tomorrow you are to formally apologise to that Knight. He is a seasoned member of your Kingsguard-" The politics was becoming far too much on him. His grip has yet to leave your shoulder.

"Why the complete and utter fuck should I be pandering to my subjects?"

Aemond is the first to inject "Have you not a shred of Diplomacy, you fucking imbecile?" You eye Aemond from above your book, and you cannot begin to imagine the younger brother would ever inject himself into Aegon's business, no reason except perhaps, jealousy?

Aegon promptly ignores Aegon, and, with his eyes on Alicent, he leans over the table and whispers:

"If Rhaenyra wishes to have the crown, she may gladly take it-"

"AEGON!" The queen's thunderous voice settles over the table like a tempest, injecting all those present with a sharp, instinctive flinch, all except Aegon, who remains lax and unaffected by her outburst, only fueling the Queen's anger to first born tenfold.

"I cannot rely on you for anything, Aegon, NOTHING! For a mother to be so utterly embarrassed by her son- her eldest son," there is venom in her incredulity, one that has your brows curving as you send a sympathetic gaze at the Usurper. You lower your novel and lean slightly closer to the battlefield that has befallen the dinner table. Aegon’s hand drops from your shoulder, landing in your lap. You clasp his trembling hand in both of yours.

How a simple visit to see your cousins in King's Landing had turned into a public execution of Aegon's dignity, is utterly beyond you. You decide that you simply will not allow it, you cannot allow it, and solidarity is all you hope Aegon feels radiating from your clasped hands under the table.. You look up at him, thinking you might look up to find anguish in Aegon's eyes, but all you find there is a sly, almost secretive smirk dancing along his visage.

"You govern this country like a child-" Aemond begins but you're quick to snip back,

"Perhaps we should be mindful, cousin of the fact that Aegon still is a child. He is but 20 years in age!" You exclaim, with your own incredulity coating your laughter, "Aegon's destiny was pre-written when you were barely able to wipe your own shit, Cousin." Aegon fails to conceal his crass bought of laughter.

"I've no time for this," Alicent says, pushing herself out of her chair before rising in silent anger, "Helena, come," she commands before leading a slightly aloof Helena out the dining hall without another word. Helena mumbles something about broken unions in iron castings before disappearing.

The silence is deafening as Aemond's one eye studies the two of you - he is not able to see your hand underneath the table, you don’t think…

"Before you think about fucking our cousin, at least think about fucking your wife." Aemond announces, to an amused Aegon who keeps his amused gaze lowered to the table. It is then that Aegon squeezes your hand, still seated on your lap. His fingers encircle yours in what you initially deduce is acknowledgement of your solidarity, but what you quickly realise is something much more sinister.

"I cannot say I will heed your counsel, brother," It is then that Aegon grabs ahold of your hand, guiding you until your palm is cupping his hardened cock. "But you can trust that your council is solemnly heard."

Aemond watches you from above the rim of his chalice as he empties the final traces of his wine before placing his chalice back on the table. His exit is a slow one, one that has your anticipation expanding and Aegon's patience waning. In all honesty, hearing your valiant defence to preserve his dignity raised an intense feeling of desire in Aegon. Even though Aegon's only feeling ever, always seemed to be desire.

"Come here," He says once Aemond footsteps have echoed away, "I need your mouth," Despite his command, Aegon is already leaning in with his hand cupping the back of your skull. Soon, all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. All you can taste is the drunken and sunken taste of him.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, ripping a fresh groan from inside you as he twirls you into his lap. He has you arrested on him, his front to your back, with your arse pressed on his crotch. His hand on your face cranes your neck backwards and forces his mouth on yours, promising that even if you wanted to free yourself, you may never be able to.

"I love how you see me," He whispers, never breaking away too far, in fear of you disappearing, "How utterly pleased I am with the version of myself I see living in your eyes," His words spill out of him and slip inside your mouth bridged by your shared saliva.

"He is not useless. He is not pitiful," Aegon breaks away from the kiss, to lay a palm on your cheek.

As one hand lovingly strokes the side of your face, Aegon’s other hand is ravenous, as it palms your sensitive breasts through the bodice of your dress.

"Thank you for not judging me," He all but whimpers as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in until his hips attempt to grind into you like a touch starved adolescent boy, while he ventures under your soft skirts.

"You don't have to thank me, Aegon." Your hands reach backwards to cradle his head into the crook of neck just as Aegon's fingers reach around to hook into the seat of your underwear. You aren't nearly as aroused as him, but somehow that fact has Aegon spiralling even further into arousal. His eyes are squeezed shut as he leans into you, smelling you, while his fingers drift over your pussy, searching desperately for a reaction.

"It is very rare that I find myself wanting to give any woman pleasure," Aegon's admits, with a low, dense drawl. His actions steal the breath from your very lungs as you feel the first sign of wetness begin to coat your underwear. He is in utter awe when he feels it. Quickly descending into a level of pleasure that he was not even sure existed, "I fucking love your cunt," He murmurs in his desperate drunken haze, "I wish to play with it and taste it and fuck it until you’re barely able to speak-"

"God's, Aegon!" Your voice is hoarse and your cries reach the highest rafter of the dining hall. Despite your degenerate wails, Aegon does little to stop them, in fact he encourages them, as his fingers push your underwear aside.

"When did you get so fucking wet?" The warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, as he presses his front against your behind, "Did I get you this wet?" He asks, before getting the strongest surge of arousal as he whispers, "Did your King get you this wet?"

All you are able to accomplish is a nod as your mind explodes with vibrant visions of your near release. Soon, you're moving your hips in tandem with Aegon's fingers squeezing sloppily at your clit before rubbing with vicious surety.

"Please-"

"Call me by my title," He whispers, completely stripped from his sensibilities. "Tell your King to make you come," Aegon's brain is filled with what he suspects is determination. He is determined to see the most lecherous parts of you crack, and have it done by his design. He rubs your cunt with furious passion while he pushes up from underneath you, utterly destroyed by the idea of having a monopolised control over the workings of your body.

"Fuck- please my King!" The ache between your legs is as warm and erratic as Aegon's hands. "Please let me cum-"

"Tis only I, who can get My Lady this wet and needy," He murmurs, quite literally to himself, as he pushes his hips against your arse.

"Only you, My King." You decide to humour him, seeking the quickest way to your release, "Only you can make me cum," Throughout his tirade, Aegon's other, unoccupied hand has reached around and clasped itself against your throat. He is violent in his actions, squeezing deliriously until your throat is vacuumed of all its air. It's an utterly depraved situation you have both found yourselves in.

Anyone could decide to walk in at any moment and Aegon affirms as much. "You're such a pretty little whore, making a mess on my fingers like this. Fuck, The servants could decide to walk through at any moment," His grip on your throat relaxes, allowing you gasp hungrily for air while the first spots of your organs threaten to surge through you.

"P-Please, My King-"

"What would they think if they find you humping my hand like such a needy, little whore?" He is rubbing rough circles against your cunt until finally, you're unable to resist teetering on the edge much longer. As your orgasm washes over you, and your body shudders above him, Aegon's own orgasm is triggered as he forces your hips further onto the seat of his pants.

"My Lord," your voice is shallow but a restless tremor settles on your limbs, "Have you no shame," you're partially jesting, as you try to come back from your previous delirium.

"I've already been branded a devil," He says, "There is no Grace left to fall from."

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #aegon targaryen smut #hotd smut #aegon smut

2K notes · View notes

ooooo-mcyt · 3 months ago

Text

Another thing I noticed in my rewatch of both Scott and Pearl's Double Life pov's is that nobody really liked either of them. Like I see people take for granted the idea that Scott was somehow "popular" during Double Life but he really wasn't much more popular than Pearl was.

Like, to go down the list of their actual relationships.

The Ranchers hated Scott and were lukewarm with Pearl. From the first episode, Jimmy singled out Scott and Cleo as "fake soulmates" and basically insulted them to their faces in their home about it, and Scott in specific quickly took to antagonizing Jimmy in specific, leading to the two teams being at each others throats very quickly. On the other hand, Pearl makes multiple deals with Jimmy specifically and The Ranchers are pretty civil- even friendly- with her, though they always seem to keep her at arms length and she never feels really welcomed as a true friend with them.

Box Boys had complicated relationships with both Scott and Pearl. Ren and BigB are initially kind to Pearl until she takes their horse as a joke, leading to their death as Ren looked at an enderman while chasing her. After that point, Ren calls Pearl a curse and casts her away, which very much contributes to Pearl's declining mental state. Later on in the series, though, Ren and Pearl mend things a bit, with Ren coming to Pearl after his soulmate "cheats" on him out of a sense of solidarity with being alone. On the other end, Scott initially doesn't have much of a relationship with either Ren or BigB, but BigB ends up holding Scott responsible for their relationship falling apart, which is..not really fair. Don't get me wrong, Scott's relationship ranch was formed to break up soulmate pairs, but Scott didn't actually do anything to break Ren and BigB up, all he did was truthfully report to Ren that BigB expressed relief when Ren was gone, which makes the blame on Scott here very much unfair.

Boat Boys have a neutral to hostile relationship with both Scott and Pearl too. Obviously Joel generally has something against Scott, and targets him regardless of the context, and early on in the series Joel is actually pretty happy with Pearl, praising her for antagonizing Scott and asking her to keep it up, though his opinion of Pearl does also change for the worse when Pearl takes their stuff as a joke after they turn red. In the finale Joel and Etho are willing to work with Pearl temporarily and say their main target is Scott over her, but they're quick to turn on Pearl too when given the chance, so she clearly doesn't have a much higher standing with them.

And then there's Desert Duo. Who have a complicated relationship with Pearl and not much of a relationship with Scott. Scar is the one who gives Pearl the idea to use powdered snow to hurt her soulmate and is happy to help her torture Scott (though he also gives the exact same offer to scott later on, bringing him powdered snow too). Scar is also the one who coins the name "Scarlet Pearl" for Pearl and is one of the biggest pushers of the narrative that Pearl is dangerous. This isn't malicious, in fact Scar hypes Pearl up a lot, but the narrative he pushes is still in many ways harmful to Pearl's reputation and mental state. Late in the season Scar and Grian are also happy to come to Pearl for protection, treating her almost like a weapon.

I think it's pretty clear that neither Scott nor Pearl had friends. Scott actually had fairly negative relationships with most of the server, and I'd honestly argue people generally 'liked' Pearl more. I mean, this is something Pearl herself took note of and commented on to Scott in her finale, the way people were actively targeting Scott but were willing to work with her. Though of course, this doesn't mean people actually treated Pearl better. They may have 'liked' her more, but she was kept at arms length, and I think people moreso saw her as a weapon they could use in their favor than a friend in any case, which was very much damaging and isolating for her.

Of course, Pearl's pov still absolutely feels more isolated than Scott's. But I think people misidentify the primary reason for that as Scott being more 'popular' amongst the server than Pearl. He wasn't.

The reason Scott doesn't feel as isolated is because he had Cleo. In many cases it didn't matter who else was against Scott, because he had Cleo, who loved and supported him unconditionally and was there with him every day. Pearl on the other hand, didn't. She was kept at an arms length, people were often civil enough to her, and she was even in some ways more popular than Scott, but that didn't matter when she was always on the outside looking in without a soulmate and, crucially, without any other support system.

And that, to me, is the big thing with Double Life's social climate. The soulmate pairs often stuck to themselves, they kept everyone at an arms length, if they didn't outright dislike them. Having support systems wasn't a thing, you didn't have anyone to fall back on outside of your soulmate, and you couldn't form that kind of bond because you'd always be treated like an outsider looking in by the established pairs. This was the main cause of Pearl's isolation. It's not because Scott specifically rejected her, and it's not because everyone especially hated Pearl or were out to get her (they literally weren't. every group hated each other. a lot of groups were hated more than pearl.), it's because of the strictly defined in-groups formed by soulmate pairs and the way they discouraged support systems and close non-soulmate bonds.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #double life smp #life series #pearlescentmoon #scott smajor #it's a traffic jam #every day someone goes “everyone just hated pearl specifically and uniquely in double life”#and i say nooo look at the unique social climate and pressures of the season they're so fascinating.

337 notes · View notes

val-of-the-north · 10 months ago

Text

The "Hornsent deserved it" sentiments make me lose my goddamn mind

Short answer: No they didn't.

Long answer: Oh my gooooooooooood can we NOT do this shit, please???

There are two underlying sentiments to this line of thinking.

The Hornsent hurt Marika's people, thus Marika did nothing wrong, therefore they deserved to die badly

The Hornsent hurt Marika's people + Midra and some others, Marika is still evil, but the Hornsent deserved to be destroyed

Both may even come to the extreme of "Messmer wasn't cruel enough" or some other nonsense in the same vein.

Number 1

To tackle number one, we need to remember a little thing called Elden Ring's base game. The Hornsent's jar ritual is undoubtedly abhorrent, that much is true. But I urge you to remember the things that happened during Marika's reign. She:

Murdered all of the Fire Giants but one, subjecting him to a fate similar to hers but worse, forced into labor confined on the mountain among the remains of his people and culture. She mocked him, to boot. All of this because they might have burnt the Erdtree.

Enslaved the Misbegotten from birth "or worse" because their species just so happened to have made contact with the Crucible.

Rewarded her own loyal Crucible Knights with scorn because of it too, as they didn't fit her current society that they fought to establish.

Made sure the Albinaurics were seen as lesser just because they were graceless, which influenced the way they were treated. She even had her Inquisition, run by Rykard, torture them in needlessly cruel manners, as they appear to be their main victims.

Just in general, she allowed Rykard to run a sadistic Inquisition to torture heretics to the Golden Order in the first place, and she saw nothing wrong with it or their practices.

She entombed the entire Great Caravan over a false rumor, which is the sole reason why the Flame of Frenzy was even a problem during her reign. This has also scarred the remainder of their people greatly.

Made the lives of all Omen a living hell either by cutting their horns just as they were born which often kills them, hunting them down in as cruel a way as possible by using their trauma and body parts against them, or throwing them in a sewer to fester with evil spirits hidden from view. She also used to shackle them, including her two children, just to make extra sure they wouldn't crawl out.

Shunned anyone who saw a vision of the Erdtree burning, regardless of who it was, and chased them away from their homes.

Literally allowed the belief that shorter people are somehow lesser, for apparently no reason at all (her most random discrimination decision tbh). This forces them to band together and take up honorless jobs just to get by, and in turn, people start to spread rumors of their inhuman practices, which are likely all untrue.

Had people literally work as slaves for the nobility just by virtue of "being born into obscurity", whatever that means. As well as other accounts of slavery like the Fallen Hawks (likely tied to the defeated soldiers of ancient Stormveil).

Likely endorsed viewing anyone without Grace as inferior beings, which includes the Tarnished that only exist because she divested them of it. She has done nothing to ease their discrimination (despite potentially seeing them as a future asset of sorts), as even the members of the Crusade are more than ready to kill us, like Fire Knight Queelign.

All of this was done in service to HER religion and order. Killing all the Fire Giants and burying the Nomadic Merchants alive? Oh, they could have ruined her age with those pesky flames of theirs.

Systematically oppressing Omen, Misbegotten, Albinaurics and the likes? Oh, they are impure creatures, unlike her people, blessed with the Grace of Gold, elevated from the rest. (Which is the exact same line of thinking as the Hornsent and their horns for crying out loud).

"Oh but the Hornsent stuffed her people into jars" yeah, and I am not arguing the contrary! It was a cruel, deranged practice, born of simple superstition that their victims would be reborn as "good people". But Marika's answer if you don't fit her vision of the world is to either get rid of you and your people through extermination, by literally hounding you from your rightful home, or by enslaving you.

Both sides are genuinely awful... but there's only one side that people are justifying, and it sure as hell isn't the Hornsent.

Marika's backstory is meant to make her less a god, which is all we have ever known her to be before the DLC, and more a human, which is what she once was. It gives her complexity as a character, it's meant to be the catalyst from which we learn why she took the path that she took. It is absolutely not meant to make us go "holy shit guys, Marika was the good guy all along???", because what she brought upon this world through her burning desire for vengeance has ruined it irreparably, and ruined the lives of most of the creatures who inhabit it.

This includes her ruthless, honorless, pointless Crusade against the Hornsent. Sure, it was her own son that started it, but it was for her sake. It was her who allowed him to wage it, he had her full support... until the thing turned to such a slaughter-fest that even she could not associate with it anymore due to how appalling it all was. And what better way to do that than to seal her own son away to wage war endlessly? And not just because his actions made her look bad, but also for the same crippling fear and prejudice that saw her kill all Fire Giants but one and scar the Great Caravan.

Gratuitous violence across the board, and for what?

(I want to make it absolutely clear that I don't mean you can't like Marika now. In fact, I'd say the DLC made her much more of an interesting character to me as well. I just cannot fathom seeing the entirety of Elden Ring and coming out thinking "wow Marika was the good guy" because she isn't. Heck, coming out thinking that she'd be disgusted with what her grandson Godrick is doing with grafting as if she isn't the queen of having zero empathy for those who are graceless or aren't her family, which the Tarnished he grafts are neither. She'd probably be very proud if anything. Marika is a monster. She became one the moment she obtained godhood, because no milestone would quell her. She did all the wrongs, so take this whole section as a refresher in case you had forgotten)

Number 2

Now, to tackle number 2... this one seemingly has more nuance, but falls for the tried and true pitfall of "the many must pay for the crimes of the few" which is exactly where it rots and collapses onto itself.

Apparently, because of the perpetrators of the Jar Rituals, ALL Hornsent, INDISCRIMINATELY, deserve to be destroyed. They all, each and every single one, deserve the Crusade and the absolute pointless ruin that it brought them. From the children, to the ones who were friends with people with no horns, to the ones who found their own practices grotesque, to the ones that weren't even tied to the Tower's religion and were just simply living their lives.

They ALL, EQUALLY deserve to be burned, to have their cities destroyed, to have their lives ruined. All of them. Ok.

Number 2 works with the assumption that the Hornsent are some sort of hive mind. Some sort of all-encompassing religious order who believes in their superiority. But that's just the Tower's religion. Hornsent are a people. And people are individuals, with their own opinions, their own lives. In fact, from the perspective of the average Hornsent citizen, they were attacked out of nowhere as they were living in peace, which likely means they weren't even at war with Marika before this event.

People also have the assumption that all of the Hornsent were benefiting from their society, which is blatantly false. In fact, outside the treatment of the Shamans, the people that we know the Hornsent have hurt the most are their fellow Hornsent. We know of quite a few of them suffering at the hands of their kin BECAUSE of their religious and cultural practices.

Being Hornsent isn't a "free from mistreatment" card. If anything, the large Gaols where they were imprisoned were built specifically to house them. The main prisoners we find in large numbers are commoners, the same types as the ones scavenging the ruins of their ravaged towns. They are often seen eating maggots off the floor and cowering in fear. All of them were Hornsent too, locked away for who knows what crime. Could have been big and important, small and insignificant, or even just a failure to do something properly (there's precedent), point is, it's clear the Hornsent weren't having a good time in there.

The jar rituals were used mainly as punishment for the imprisoned Hornsent themselves, as a way to have them become "good people". This was just as horrifying for the Hornsent prisoners as it was for the Shamans I assume. Look how terrified this Hornsent seemed at the prospect of sharing that fate. This is the reason why they chopped up Shamans in the first place, as ritual ingredients for a punishment meant primarily for their kin.

And there were more Hornsent who suffered because of the leading ideology. Curseblades were once shunned because they failed to become tutelary deities, and so they were thrown in the Jar Gaols. They were only let out so they could use their expertise and flowing movements to defend their homeland when Messmer invaded, otherwise they'd be rotting with the Innard Shamans and the other Hornsent prisoners the way Labirith is.

It's also worth pointing out that Midra's Mense was filled with Hornsent attendants who sided with their sagely master regardless of his lack of horns and what the Inquisition believed of him. If we were to operate with reasoning number 2, they too would deserve to be murdered in the Crusade because they just so happened to be Hornsent. Because ALL Hornsent deserve extermination for what happened to the Shamans.

And we also know that the Hornsent can find what happens in Bonny Village revolting. In fact, we know that from someone who was born and raised there.

This sounds nothing like someone who thought any of that was ok. So who is to say other Hornsent weren't like this too, especially those who DIDN'T live in Bonny Village? Those who risked being stuffed into those same jars themselves? We make waaaay too many assumptions about an entire race, and that in itself is foolish enough.

If there's someone to blame, it's the Tower's Inquisition. They are the religious order that governs the Hornsent. They have all the power in their society... and yet, would you look at that? Enir-Ilim, their sanctum, the one place where those calling the shots reside, is completely untouched. And what about Bonny, the most structurally fine Hornsent settlement, when you'd expect it to be a black stain of char by now. But nope, no sign of Messmer activity and the Greater Potentates are just running around naked, doing their thing as usual.

The Crusade isn't even a good tool of vengeance, the only ones suffering are the civilians who were likely the ones with a higher risk of ritual jar punishment anyway. If this isn't proof enough that the Crusade is a completely petty, useless revenge war that accomplishes nothing I don't know what else to say. I'll just leave with what the people taking part in it were taking pride in doing.

These are people who, without a shadow of a doubt, would have chopped up most of the oppressed groups described earlier and stuffed them into jars if Marika had told them to do so. (Heck, something like this was being done to the Albinaurics already, as we have seen previously...)

They have zero moral superiority, their deranged zealotry is the only reason they act in the first place. Not to mention that they have no connection to Marika's struggles or past, nor were they informed of them I bet. It's likely only Messmer truly knows the reason for the Crusade, and that's only because he is her child and shoulders all the blame onto himself.

"Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death" is LITERALLY their motto. Do you really think they stopped at the Hornsent? They were just their main target, but judging by the way all of Messmer's soldiers, including Queelign and the other Fire Knights, and even HE HIMSELF, attack us on sight for the simple fact we are Tarnished and lack Grace in our eyes, I have no doubt in my mind these people were just rounding up and killing anyone who didn't conform with the Golden Order.

THESE are the people who should be allowed to play judge, jury and executioner with the entire Hornsent race. And people will genuinely, with a straight face, tell you "That's right".

To conclude... I think I actually hate reasoning 2 more than reasoning 1 lol, despite not liking either at all. At least 1 is understandable. Marika is a very interesting character, one that we have known for a few years now. We have an attachment to her, heck, sentiments of her being some sort of misunderstood/rebellious figure were already there before the DLC. In that regard, I understand the emotional response, even though I still think it's a wrong mindset to have. I have at least some hope that it is purely in the realm of fiction because it's a beloved character, nothing more...

Reasoning 2, on the other hand, attempts to be nuanced, or at least pretends to be. In reality, all it peddles is the "an eye for an eye" mentality which is much too common irl as well. Not only that, but it deals in monoliths. All people belonging to a group or race are equally responsible for stuff they didn't even commit, stuff that could have even harmed them, because their leaders decided to commit crimes against another set of people. And don't get me wrong, there will be even commoners from that group or race that will agree with and celebrate that bad deed, but just as many will not, but will be either scared, powerless, already being punished for speaking up through physical violence or elaborate shunning, or currently protesting and doing something to hopefully ignite a change.

But that reasoning only exists to perpetuate cycles; of war, violence, and hate for the most part. And sadly, this mindset is very prevalent, a lot of people fail to see the issue with wanton violence as long as it's to stroke that lust for vengeance. And vengeance is a theme that Elden Ring criticizes multiple times in a row, even beyond the obvious horror of the Crusade.

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #queen marika the eternal #hornsent #messmer the impaler #queen marika #marika the eternal #it's just something that has been on my mind for some time #in general though I did want to do a list of Marika wrongdoings #tying it to a post about the Hornsent just felt fitting too #these sentiments are just... so ass #val-post

960 notes · View notes

sthilarions · 20 days ago

Text

Hmm. Thinking about Edwin and Learned Helplessness

To rapidly summarize a complex psychological concept (and skipping over some nuance we’ve discovered recently), Learned Helplessness is basically when an animal internalizes the idea that they have no way to escape/control an unpleasant stimulus or situation, and stops trying to do so.

The classic example is with an electrified floor and two rats. The floor shocks the rats periodically. One of the rats has a way to escape or end the shock: by jumping over a barrier, pushing a lever, etc. The other does not. The rat that has a way to escape will keep trying to do so, even if it doesn’t always work. However, the rat that reliably has no way to avoid the shocks will stop trying. They’ll eventually stop looking for ways to get away and just lie down and let it happen.

And here’s the key part: the rat that gives up will stay given up even if you later present them with a clear way to escape. Once a rat has accepted that there’s no way to avoid the shocks, you can give them a lever, let them jump over a barrier, or just straight up open the cage, and they’ll just keep lying there.

Experiments have shown it’s possible to retrain animals who have acquired learned helplessness to believe they have control, but it requires active work from an external source. Something like physically lifting them out of the cage repeatedly to show them that they can leave and that leaving stops the shocks. If you leave them alone, the rats will keep just sitting there getting shocked right next to an open door forever.

So where does this rather depressing and fairly unethical concept relate to Edwin, you ask

Well - remarkably enough, Edwin doesn’t seem to have fully 100% acquired what one might call generalized learned helplessness. He keeps trying to escape, eventually succeeding after 73 years. But! There are two sources of nuance here

One: he clearly does canonically experience some form of learned helplessness, because that’s exactly what he expresses to Charles when huddled against the wall in Hell. There’s no use trying, I run and it catches me, over and over, you should leave without me because there is no point in me trying to escape. That’s learned helplessness in a nutshell.

How he was able to get past that to escape in 1989, I’m not sure, but it seems to fluctuate for him from moment to moment. (He has it badly in that scene, but the previous scene, when he first sees Charles before getting eaten, he seems to have hope).

Two, and this is less canonical and more me spinning off canon-compliant thoughts, he might have a more specific learned helplessness response going on, as opposed to just a generalized one. Because running, trying to escape, can delay the pain. But fighting? Fighting does nothing but make things worse.

We talk a lot about him freezing, but I’m imagining him, in the first while after Hell, when a threat gets too close, just… going limp. Because he’s had 73 years of continuous torture conditioning him that running may help delay being caught but once he’s caught, there’s nothing he can do. Flailing around just gets him more pain, gets a slower death instead of a quick one. Relaxing his muscles makes it hurt less when they’re torn off his bones. He’s just loosening into the fall, is all.

Charles figures this out pretty quickly. It’s hard to miss your partner just… flopping down on the ground every time he’s about to get injured.

He starts finding ways to accommodate it. First by keeping an eye out and jumping in whenever Edwin goes into Accept Death Mode, but then trying to pre-empt it. Keeping Edwin back, at the edge of the fight, so Edwin never gets close enough to the threat for his learned instincts to kick in, which over time turns into a fixed dynamic of “Charles as brawn”, and over more time Edwin picks up offensive magic so he can stay at the back but still fight.

Charles realizes at some point that Edwin won’t fight for himself but will, occasionally, fight for Charles, and starts trying to leverage that, putting himself in danger to make Edwin start fighting so Edwin will learn he can fight. Edwin puts a very harsh stop to that, once he figures out it’s happening, but it remains true, that Edwin will fight for Charles but not himself. (We see him try to throw a punch at Esther after Esther tosses Charles, in canon, but not, at any Post-Hell point that I can recall, when anyone tries to hurt him.)

Edwin stops collapsing, eventually, after a lot of work from him and Charles, starts just freezing instead, and to other people that freezing would be Bad but it’s a step up, for Edwin. Eventually he starts even being able to still move a bit, and talk - like when he puts a hand over Crystal’s mouth and mutters an explanation to her before freezing, with the Misery Wraith, and… and when he just stands there and keeps talking when the Cat King rocks up to him and puts him in a binding spell. He still doesn’t try to stop the threat, doesn’t fight or even run, once it’s already close, but he doesn’t become completely incapacitated, either.

And that’s about where he’s at, by 2024. Charles is still trying to work on him, but they’re still at a point where Edwin physically can not defend himself from a nearby threat: hence the failed boxing lesson. Charles wants him to be able to physically fight, and he may even want that himself, but he can’t, can only throw a punch to protect Charles. He can’t even properly swing at Charles with boxing gloves, because either Charles isn’t a threat, in which case Edwin doesn’t want to attack him, or he is, in which case Edwin can’t attack him. (There’s no in-between space in his head for “putting force behind a hit without either of you being in danger”.)

Anyway. Yeah. That’s my thought, I guess, is the boys developing their role-division because of Edwin’s learned helplessness, and Charles working with him to both accommodate it and try to decondition it over time, but only able to get so far, even after 35 years, because it was conditioned into him over more than twice that time and a lot more forcefully than Charles can do.

But it’s progress.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #mine

252 notes · View notes

cercandodiscrivere · 6 months ago

Text

Quod fata ferunt | emperor geta x reader.

word count | 2.3k

tags | @self-shipping-doll13

warnings | 18+, NSFW, concubines, blowjobs, porn with too much plot, unbeta'd.

synopsis | Being the favored one of an Emperor came with many privileges, one of them being able to see his most human side.

Under all their power and their might, even powerful ruler are still men at their core.

gifs by @batty4steddie

Geta is worried.

You don’t blame him; you understand.

You were present when he decided upon Acacio’s fate: all it took to turn the common people against their rulers where good words and a fleeting display of gentleness among foes – which ultimately meant nothing. Greater men have begged for mercy within the walls of the Colosseum, their distressed cries ignored by the spectators.

No, it wasn't pity that stirred the crowd: the anger had been simmering in their minds before, biding its time for the perfect opportunity to release itself.

A single withered leaf can ignite an entire town if placed upon an open flame.

Geta understands the significance of this – so he is worried.

It is an uncommon occurrence, which in turn worries you.

He paces around his chambers, twisting and turning the rings on his fingers – gold and gemstones and colored glass that send shimmering hues throughout the rooms.

The same hand he is torturing now condemned a man just moments earlier: and even as it happened, you couldn't help but wonder if Acacio would be the only one to bear the brunt of fate.

“You did what you had to do” you try.

There was no specific reason for why you were taken – dragged – to his quarters, other than the fact that you happened to be near him when the rebellion broke out. Amidst the chaos, two praetorians seized both you and Geta as their comrades protected Caracalla and Macrinus.

Oh, it was an incredible privilege to be invited to witness the fights from the imperial pulvinar: and yet, if you hadn't been busy serving wine to your domine the exact moment the revolt started, you would have likely been left to be trampled over by a raging mob.

Three other favorites of the Emperors were also present, but you haven’t seen them since. They weren't present in the chambers where the twins and their arms-dealer discussed what had occurred. None of them came running when Caracalla erupted into screams, nor when he stormed out of the chambers followed closely by Macrinus.

Alone with your master, you watch as he paces back and forth.

The argument with his brother left Geta in an even worse state, if that is possible. His mind seems to be pulled in two different directions, the distress visible on his face.

He knows some of the words spoken by Caracalla may hold truth, despite being laced with the poison of his illness.

Could he have made a mistake in his decision?

The Gods themselves communicate with him in ways that you could never comprehend – not with words, but through the sacred blood he shares with them. Did he misunderstand their wishes?

Even in his divine state, he may not be immune to the burdens of human existence. After all, despite sharing the same sacred lineage, Caracalla's mind is still plagued with flaws.

“There was nothing else to do” you say again. You feel a bit useless as you parrot his own words back to him, but in this delicate situation you fear saying anything that could be taken as an insult.

Geta is a pleasant companion and a passionate paramour – for those who know how to handle him.

From a young age, you have been taught how to play the lyre. Over time you lost the quick skilled fingers needed to captivate an audience, but the lessons learned still serve you in other ways.

In untrained hands, the instrument produces nothing but a jumble of harsh and unpleasant sounds: only those who have mastered it can create a tune that leaves others yearning for more.

During your initial encounter with Geta, you likened him to a lyre; a rather silly comparison, perhaps, but figuring out how to please him in order to gain his favor felt much like learning to strum the strings at the right moment.

And what a masterful musician you’ve been with him.

Still, the Emperor possesses the fiery temperament of a powerful man not accustomed to receiving criticism. He is quick to boast and show anger - but just as quick to calm down and become merciful again.

I play a lyre made of splintered wood, you think, but quickly push the image aside before a smirk can form on your face.

"You made the right decision" you repeat as you stand up, trying to infuse your voice with comfort.

Your movement catches Geta’s attention. He stops in the middle of the room, lingering, but not quite still. His hands continue to fidget and twitch: he looks at you as if he had completely forgotten of your presence.

Taking advantage of his confusion, you approach him and gently place your hand on his tense arm. “The praetorians are fulfilling their duty. Has any crowd ever been able to sway them?”

There have been past attempts at rebellion by the common people - their leaders too weak, too consumed by hunger to have the chance to succeed.

When Geta finally speaks, he does so while grasping your hand, his gaze fixed on the windows once again. “They listened to that poet’s words. That has never happened before.”

You refuse to acknowledge it, but he is right. It is not uncommon for gladiators to captivate audiences with their skillful use of spears and brutal displays of violence – but never with peace messages or pledges of liberation.

In another life, the man’s perspective would have seemed almost convincing. In this one, you've witnessed far too many good-willed revolutionaries meet a violent end.

“Gentle words can’t win a battle” you gently stroke his cheek, tilting his chin towards you so that he focuses on your face instead of the chaos happening outside. “Gladiators tend not to live long” you add to further placate his mind.

Geta’s eyes move, following your gentle guidance. He leans in and presses his lips against the inside of your wrist, sending shivers down your spine from the warmth of his breath on your skin.

Being the favored one of an Emperor came with many privileges, one of them being able to see his most human side. Under all their power and their might, even powerful ruler are still men at their core. Still, in moments like this one – when he stares at you with such vulnerability and openness, as if your voice is the only thing worth hearing – it becomes harder to contain your feelings to a level deemed acceptable for your position.

“The Gods have spoken through you” you reassure him once again, this time shifting just enough so you can pull him towards the lectus. “To attack you is to declare war on the deities themselves.”

“My brother…” he starts, but his voice fades. His eyes are shrouded in shadows once again; crammed amongst the pillows, he appears almost like a scared child, lying down but still far from being at ease. You gently twirl his ginger locks between your fingers, feigning a calmness that eludes you.

“He is scared” you murmur. You search for words that are reassuring yet respectful; it doesn't matter how much Geta favors you above others, you would still find yourself in the dungeons if you showed Caracalla any less devotion that what his status demanded.

“The mob is loud, but screams are nothing to arrows and swords” as you talk, you gradually lower yourself onto your knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. “The praetorians are loyal to you and you only, no pretty words can change that.”

He hums, a quiet sound. “What about your pretty words?” he smirks.

A mischievous grin creeps onto your face as you play with the delicate hem of the elegant ivory palla draped over his tunic. “All I say is for your satisfaction.”

From this angle, with white paint masking his features, he bears the same daunting presence as the marble figures that decorate the halls: a god once again, towering over his most devoted disciple.

“All I do, is to please you.”

It’s eerie how greedily his gaze seems to follow even the slightest fraction of your movement, yet he remains seated on the cushions without making a single motion. His breath escapes in short puffs, tickling your forehead.

Now it's your turn to take control: this is the moment when he abandons his all his titles and becomes nothing but a man.

You remain on your knees between his spread legs, lightly tapping your fingers against his inner thigh - but still, he does not budge.

The challenge in his eyes is unmistakable, as if he's daring you to do something - anything - without his assistance.

As you press your lips against his clothed cock, he lets out a loud grunt, as if there was no fabric between your kiss and his skin. The noise goes straight between your legs, but this evening is not meant for you.

You continue to tease him, kissing your way up and down his thigh, deliberately avoiding his erection. To his credit, he tries his hardest to stifle his groans as best he can, but you can sense his muscles tensing and his patience wearing thin.

You want to consume him. You tug at the fabric of his tunic; this time, he doesn't hesitate and quickly moves into action, removing his own clothes until his hips are bare.

He begins to mention something about comfort, gesturing towards the luxurious pillows that surround him - but you're already nuzzling at his exposed thigh and the words die on his tongue. With one arm slipping beneath his knee, your body presses closer to his, the other hand running along his skin, hot and damp with sweat.

It’s intoxicating how you can make Geta shudder even when you’re taking your time with it. Sometimes, you've questioned whether it's expected of you to just pleasure him as soon as he asks – but in truth, you enjoy taking your time, savoring the sound of his soft moans.

Mouthing at his pale skin, dragging your nails down his legs with enough strenght to leave a trail of soft red marks. You plant a kiss on the head of his cock, pleased to see that precum is already forming at its tip. You eagerly lap at it with your tongue, paying no attention to the way your actions cause him to grip the cushions of the lectus until his knuckles turn pale.

He lets out loud groan as you engulf him completely in the wet, slick warmth of your mouth. His legs shake on either side of you, his hips thrusting forward as your cheeks hollow, tongue curling as you suck him.

He keeps moaning, seemingly unconcerned about how desperate he must sound. Under different circumstances, he may have been more conscious of his tone. Perhaps, if your meeting had occurred after a triumphant war victory or a grand celebration in his honor, he would be as confident and arrogant as you are are accustomed to - but now all he craves is comfort, and you’re sucking him into oblivion.

Tracing the tip of his dick with your tongue causes him to bite down on his lower lip in response; licking along the underside has him closing his eyes and sigh. Your favorite moment, though, is when he's in so deep your chin rests on top of his balls - and he can't help but release a deep, raw moan of pleasure as he tries to thrust more into you.

You can tell he's already close just from this.

You peer out from under your lashes, eyes filled with longing, only to catch Geta's gaze fixed upon you with adoration. His mouth hangs open in a silent whimper, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows saliva. There is no being more magnificent than him in this right moment, neither god nor mortal.

Without warning, his hand shoots out and grabs onto your hair as you become more frantic. You whine, a mixture of pleasure and pain as his fingernails digs into your scalp, and he responds with even louder noises of his own.

His cock rests on the back of your tongue as he lets out rough and guttural groan and empties himself inside your mouth. His head falls back, his eyes fluttering closed.

You swallow it all, ensuring his eyes are back on you before nonchalantly wiping the cum from the side of yout mouth and licking it off your fingers.

Exhausted, you lean your head against his leg and close your eyes.

Geta's breathing is still uneven, but the haze of satisfaction is not enough to make him lose awareness completely – not when Caracalla comes back into the room, shouting.

"Get out!" he growls. The harsh order is directed towards you, still kneeling on the ground, but his gaze is fixed solely on his brother.

In the past few months, there were times when he had lost his temper. Servants, concubines, hosts: everyone was subject to his outbursts of rage – but those were short-lived explosions, like fires on wet sticks.

Caracalla's skin is now covered in red blotches, visible even through the numerous layers of makeup on his face. Whatever words Macrinus exchanged with Caracalla during their private conversation did not seem to have a soothing effect on his temper.

“Get out, leave!” he screams again, pacing back and forth in agitation. This time, Geta helps you to your feet before nodding towards the entrance. His expression is serious once more, a confident facade to hide his underlying concern.

You are dismissed.

A chill runs down your back: you have witnessed the anger of the ill Emperor before, but never in such a furious state. Caracalla is yelling, Geta stands with his hands raised in surrender.

A moment of panic overwhelms you - even greater than the fear induced by the riots outside, but you quicly manage to calm yourself and take a deep breath.

Just as you approach the door, you catch sight of Macrinus once more. He watches the twins from afar, his gaze sharp and calculating, as if ready to intervene at any moment.

He's a strong man; he'll have everything under control.

With that last comforting thought, you turn away and leave.

#emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #geta x reader #geta x you #gladiator ii fanfiction

374 notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 4 months ago

Text

Lee does not immediately suspect something when he hears screaming.

That's his bad.

He will make it abundantly clear in his defense that the core value of this camp is violence. That is It. Not safety, not training, not worship or hard work or discipline or anything. It's violence. Didn't get the last croissant at breakfast? Violence. Someone used up all the hot water? Violence. Someone got in close to your face and insulted your dead mother? Violence. Can't decide whose nail polish colour is more well suited to their outfit?

You guessed it.

Violence.

His cabin is not immune. In fact, the Apollo cabin may be technically from some perspectives worse than every other. It is a little known fact that the solid gold walls of hubris are, in fact, sound proofed, and yet the midnight trombone continues to echo gently and unkindly over the midnight breeze. So when he hears, one beautiful and sunny July afternoon, intense, bloodcurdling screaming echoing from his very place of residence, he thinks: ah. Someone has once again used Leanna's sheet music for target practice and she is responding with brute force. Good for her.

But then, of course, the screaming pitches up high enough that four windows shatter and his hearing starts to go, and he thinks, again, ah. And then immediately begins to sprint.

"Whatever you're doing, cut it the fuck out," he barks, sprinting up the porch, and then very quickly turns to the side to wheeze silently. "Leave him -- oh, for the love of the gods."

Fortunately, his youngest brother is not being teased or tortured or in any other such way bothered. Technically. Unfortunately, the brother who he should have been more concerned about is pinning said baby brother to the floor, needles shining in hand, shrieking, "Sit still! Sit still! I swear to the muses, asswipe, sit still or I am going to end up impaling your brain!"

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts --"

"I have not fucking done it yet!"

"Michael," Lee says, dragging a hand down his face, "watch your fucking language."

Michael bares his teeth. "He pestered me for twelve fucking days, Lee. He is getting his ears pierced or I am going to pierce him between the eyes from a hundred fucking feet."

"He's torturing me!" Will hollers, straining away. "He's -- sticking me like a pin cushion --"

"That is how piercing works you little shit --"

"I'm reporting you to child services!"

"Good! Call 'em now! It'll take them half a fuckin' hour to get here, I'll have lots of time to kick your ass!"

On one hand, Lee is Practically an Adult. He is seventeen whole years old. He can vote, if he chooses to break the law. Hell, in some countries he's legally allowed to kill people with no consequences.

"None of that is true," says Diana from her bunk, flipping a page in her magazine.

On the other hand, it is a truly beautiful day. He could just...leave. He could take a walk along the beautiful shoreline and reflect upon the days when he was an only child of a neglectful mother, blissfully lonely and unbothered. Oh, those were the days.

"Hold still!"

On the mysterious third hand, it is really kind of funny to watch Michael wrestle with a nine-year-old and lose.

"Move over," Lee says, walking over to his sister's bunk. She does, giving him approximately one square millimeter of space. Wow. She's feeling generous today. "Wager?"

"Twenty-six minutes at minimum," Diana says. She pats around until her hand hits maybe the massivest bag of sour gummi worms Lee has ever seen, shoving at least nine in her mouth at once. "And its uneven."

Lee reaches for a gummi worm. She kicks him in the spleen. He pulls his hand away.

"I'll take that. He's getting some leverage, I think he'll get them pierced in twenty-four."

"You're on."

They shake, then settle into observe. Diana passes him a set of rubber ear plugs, which he gratefully accepts just before Will screeches so loudly Michael's ear drums genuinely begin to bleed. At least he got closer, this time.

(It takes Michael twenty-two minutes and he somehow manages to pierce one ear twice. Lee accepts his gummi-worm winnings with grace and integrity and anything Diana claims otherwise is because she is a bitter sore loser who likes to start rumours and discredit his good name.)

(Obviously.)

-- -- --

based on this and this drawing by @cometjuice

more cabin 7

#theyre all so stupid i love them #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #lee fletcher #michael yew #diana mckinney #will solace #baby will solace #kid will solace #baby will #lee fletcher & michael yew & will solace & diana mckinney #cabin 7 #cabin 7 antics #my writing #fic #longpost #barely its like 700 words #lol #lee fletcher i love you

392 notes · View notes

kyeomofhearts · 1 year ago

Text

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone you happened to share a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 4.5k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, jealousy, angst, suggestive, possessive wonwoo (yum), teasing, a lot of dialogue for sure, fluff?, please lmk if i missed anything tyyyy!

[ᝰ.ᐟ] glad you guys enjoyed part one!!! 🥹 i really appreciate the lovely comments you all left <333 i know this took forever for me to post but i swear i didn't mean to. currently writing part three as we speak so it will definitely come out within these following months or so... anyways, this wasn't proofread so please excuse any mistakes i may have made! as always, don't be scared to comment because i quite literally thrive on your guys' comments and reblogs! :)

Two weeks. Two full weeks of your torture.

Wonwoo was pretty shocked, to say the least. He wasn’t aware of the lengths you would take to ignore him. Sure, it was his fault for going off on you but he was sorry. He knew what he had said to you that day upset you, but he didn't know it was going to end up like this. And now he was at a loss, he wasn’t sure on how to navigate this 'predicament' between the two of you.

Wonwoo obviously knew that he had to apologize to you but he also knew that you needed space. Which is exactly what he did for those first few days after the ‘fight’ had occurred. He gave you space for a day or two but then, those two days turned into five... and before he knew it, two weeks had passed.

Of course, it’s not like Wonwoo didn’t try to talk to you but it was kind of difficult when you would run away at the mere sight of him. It also didn't help that any of his attempts for forgiveness were typically greeted with your indifference, it was as if you had walled yourself off completely.

To make matters worse, anytime that Wonwoo was able to see you, Hyunwoo was right by your side. It was troubling, to say the least. He couldn't quite put his finger on why the sight of you with Hyunwoo stirred such unease within him but it did and he hated it.

Out of everyone on this campus, you were giving Hyunwoo your time and attention? It just didn't make sense to Wonwoo. You barely knew the guy!

Not that he was jealous or anything but… there was something about Hyunwoo that he didn't trust. His easy 'charm' and 'magnetic' personality seemed almost too good to be true, and Wonwoo couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. He was definitely hiding something.

And so, Wonwoo found himself in limbo, caught between the regret of his past actions and the uncertainty of what would happen between him and you. He hoped for the chance to set things right, to close the gap that had formed between the two of you, but he couldn't help but wonder if it was already too late.

Until then, all he could do was wait for another opportunity.

[...]

To say that you were bored was an understatement. Ignoring Wonwoo for two weeks was beginning to take its toll on you. Life had suddenly become only about your job and classes which was... exhausting.

Granted, you did make it your life mission to ignore him any chance you were given but there was no point in dwelling on that. It was quite easy going no-contact with him considering that you didn't share any socials with him. A small part of you did occasionally miss when you would get randomly bothered by Wonwoo, it was a nice distraction from whatever you were thinking about at that moment.

Other than that...

Life was pretty uneventful if you were being honest with yourself. Your days were usually filled with school assignments and work so there wasn't anything that could help you keep your mind away from Wonwoo. And it didn't help that your friends had gone radio silent on you either.

Some might say that you were taking your pettiness too far but you couldn't help yourself! Sure, you and Wonwoo were not at the level where you could practically share everything with each other but how else were you supposed to react to his obvious injuries? Like... did he want you to just ignore his bruised face and act like everything was fine and dandy? You despised how much this whole situation still bothered you even after a few weeks had passed since it occurred.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear Wonwoo out-

"Hellooo? Yn!"

Your head snapped towards the direction where you heard your name come from. Of course, it was Hyunwoo.

"I've been calling your name like crazy! Are you deaf or something?" His voice was laced with annoyance but you could tell that he was trying to play it cool.

You don't know if it was because you were always sleep-deprived but recently, Hyunwoo had been getting on your nerves. Hyunwoo was just too clingy for your liking, always feeling the need to be around you any chance he could. It was bothersome if anything.

“Sorry I was distracted, what did you need?” You tried to sound nice but couldn't help the irritation from slipping into your tone.

Hyunwoo scoffed. "Well, I just wanted to invite you to this party on Friday." He stepped closer to you, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He continued, "I know parties aren't really your thing but... please think about it at least?"

You hesitated, your mind automatically going through your schedule. You were definitely open on Friday, but the thought of going to a party wasn't exactly appealing to you. Especially not with the current state of your social life.

You mulled over his proposition for a few seconds.

"Uh, thanks for the invite, but I think I'll pass," you replied, trying to sound casual.

Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor turning into one of disbelief. "Pass? Come on, yn, when was the last time you actually went out and had some fun?"

Ugh. His words hit a little too close to home. You knew he was right, but the idea of going out without knowing anyone felt daunting. You knew that there was surely something better you could do on a Friday night but a small part of you was curious about the party. Maybe you should at least check it out, that wouldn't hurt, right?

You looked at Hyunwoo and exhaled.

"Okay fine, I'll go with you," you playfully nudged his arm before continuing, "under the condition that I can leave whenever I want."

Hyunwoo couldn't help but roll his eyes and scoff at your 'terms and conditions', but he accepted it either way.

"Sure, oh and trust me, you won't want to leave, I'll make sure of that," Hyunwoo said as he looked at the time on his phone noting that he had a few minutes left. He patted your back before bidding you goodbye to attend his next class.

You weren't sure if it was you but there was something off about his reply. But before you could dwell on it further, your phone suddenly buzzed with a notification, forcing you back to reality.

[www.onwoo requested to follow you.]

Oh.

Okay, now you have a lot of questions. How did he even find you? Was it through one of your friends? Why now? God you knew this was going to eat you up for the next few hours or maybe even days.

Nevertheless, you accepted his friend request and even went as far as to add him as a friend. That should be okay, right?

You slipped your phone back into your pocket as you got closer to your class. Surely your lecture would at least help you take him off your mind.

Wrong.

When you entered the classroom you noticed that the seating arrangement had been changed. There were a few students still standing at the front who looked just as confused as you. After a few more students came to the class the professor eventually got up to address the situation.

"For those that are coming in, I have changed your assigned seats for the rest of the semester! If you look at the board you will also see that I have grouped you into pairs, and to make it convenient I have sat you with your partner so you do not have to struggle with finding them. If you have any questions please do not hesitate to ask me!"

Okay, this was different but not necessarily bad. You looked towards the board to see who you had been paired with and you felt your stomach drop down to the pits of Hell.

[yn | wonwoo]

If you were going to be honest you completely forgot Wonwoo was even in this class in the first place.

If there was a God out there, then they for sure failed you today. This was very unfortunate for you, but there wasn't anything that could be done about it. So you begrudgingly made your way to your assigned seat, right next to Wonwoo.

You took a quick glance over his figure noting his dark attire. There wasn't anything special about it but just seeing him in a simple black shirt and sweats was doing a lot of things to you. Why was the room hot all of a sudden?

After getting yourself situated in your seat, you felt his eyes surveying your figure. Part of you wanted to turn to see if he was actually looking at you but that would just be another win for him so you decided to keep your gaze on the board. Just focus on the lecture.

"yn." Wonwoo said in a somewhat muted tone, tapping a finger on your arm.

Well, that didn't last long.

You hated how much of an effect his voice still had on you, that deep tone always giving you goosebumps. Surprisingly, you still managed to keep your eyes on the lecture, you wanted to see how far he would go to get your attention.

Though your silence didn't amuse Wonwoo, in fact, it annoyed him. He hated not being able to annoy you, maybe even going as far as to say that he missed talking to you. Of course, he wouldn't have been in this situation had he not snapped at you that day but he was really trying to earn your forgiveness. He was willing to do anything at this point. So he leaned towards you, his cologne invading your senses. God, why did he have to smell so good?

"Can you stop ignoring me? I gave you enough space already," he said in a hushed, irritated tone.

You looked at him, trying your best to not laugh at how desperate he was beginning to sound. His usually calm and collected persona was beginning to crumble down into a hopeless mess. Feeling playful, you decided to torture him just a little bit.

"I don't think I want to, it's been kind of fun not having you around," You whispered back, turning your gaze at the board so you wouldn't have to see his reaction. Just for the fun of it, you decided to egg him on a little further, "Maybe try again later."

As you focused on the board, you could practically feel the tension radiating from Wonwoo beside you. His irritation was palpable, his patience wearing thin as he struggled to contain his frustration.

But despite your playful defiance, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. Maybe you were being too harsh on him, too stubborn to admit that you missed whatever you had going on with him. Deep down, you knew that ignoring Wonwoo wasn't going to solve anything, that it was only prolonging the inevitable confrontation you both needed to have.

As the lecture droned on in the background, the weight of Wonwoo's presence beside you grew heavier with each passing minute. You could sense him fidgeting in his seat, his frustration simmering beneath the surface as he grappled with your stubborn silence.

Maybe it was time that you stopped pushing him away.

Finally unable to bear the tension any longer, you cleared your throat.

"Okay fine, I'll stop ignoring you but don't think that I have forgiven you yet." Your eyes lingered on his face, his cuts and bruises had noticeably healed but they were still evident.

Wonwoo's tense figure visibly relaxed at your words. Even though it was only a small step, Wonwoo felt as if he had already won the lottery.

After another hour had passed, the lecture had finally come to an end. You didn't have any plans after this so you were excited to just spend the day doing whatever. But just as you were about to slip out of your seat, Wonwoo's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait for me," he said, his voice softer than before.

Seeing Wonwoo like this was quite... weird. His demeanor towards you was a complete contrast to his usual confident self. It was kind of unnerving.

After that, Wonwoo began to gather his belongings, even going as far as gently taking your bag from your hand. He slid the bag onto his shoulder, not caring about the fact that he looked ridiculous wearing his regular backpack with your tote.

"I can carry my bag," you said as you tried reaching for it.

Wonwoo quickly moved away before you could even land a finger on your tote. "Let me carry it for you, please." His tone was sincere this time, almost pleading if anything.

With a reluctant sigh, you began to make your way out of the classroom, allowing Wonwoo to fall into step beside you as you made your way out of the lecture hall. The hallway was relatively quiet, the sounds of footsteps echoing against the tiled floor as you passed by other students.

As you walked side by side with Wonwoo, you couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at the edges of your thoughts.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching between you like a physical barrier. As you rounded the corner, you stole a glance at Wonwoo, taking in the uncertainty etched into his features. It was strange to see him like this, vulnerable and unsure, but there was also something oddly endearing about it.

"What's going on? You're acting really weird right now," you finally blurted out, unable to contain your curiosity any longer.

Wonwoo's steps faltered slightly at your question, his gaze flickering away before returning to meet yours. "Can't I do something nice for my friend?" he replied, his voice tinged with a tiny hint of defensiveness.

You blinked, taken aback by Wonwoo's response. "Friend?" you echoed, the word feeling foreign on your tongue. It had been weeks since you and Wonwoo had exchanged more than a few words with each other, but even before that, you weren't necessarily sure you could call him a friend. Sure you've known him for the majority of your life but that was really it, growing up your friend groups rarely interacted so it's not like you actually knew anything about him. He just always happened to be there.

Did he seriously consider you as a friend?

Wonwoo's steps came to an abrupt stop, he shifted uncomfortably beside you, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Well, yeah. I mean, aren't we?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications and unresolved tension. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, searching for the right words to express the swirling thoughts and emotions that churned within you.

"I don't know, Wonwoo," you finally admitted, your voice quiet but resolute. "I get that we've known each other for a long time but... I wouldn't exactly call us friends."

His face flashed a hint of hurt before he looked away from you. The silence following between the two of you was almost suffocating.

"That's fair I guess." His voice returned to that stoic tone that you had grown accustomed to.

Wonwoo's response hung in the air for a second, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You could feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you, mingling with your own sense of unease.

"I didn't mean it like that," you interjected hastily, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... weird you know? We've been around each other for so long but I don't know anything about you and you don't know anything about me."

His gaze remained fixed on the ground, his expression unreadable. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the footsteps of the people passing by. "But we can always change that." Wonwoo was now completely looking at you, his gaze filled with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

He continued, "Look, I'm sorry I spoke to you that way. I was really irritated by what had happened but I figured that being with you would put me in a better mood," he paused for a second, "I know that it was unfair of me to do that to you and I'll make sure that it won't happen again." Wonwoo's eyes were soft and sincere as he spoke to you.

It was shocking in a way, seeing how vulnerable he was being with you. For someone who usually displayed himself on the 'cooler' side, he really did know how to be genuine with you.

It was also overwhelming. Everything about this felt too intimate for you. From the way Wonwoo was looking at you to the way he voiced out his apology; it was just too much for you.

You had to do something.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to accept his apology, it was about time anyway.

"Okay, fine. I get it, we all have our off days," turning to face his side, you made a playful jab into his ribs, "but if you ever do anything like that again I will kill you." You tried your best to maintain a somewhat serious face but couldn't help but let out a giggle as soon as you saw Wonwoo squirm from your touch.

And just like that, the tension that had once felt suffocating was now gone, as if it had never been there in the first place; or at least so you thought.

What you didn't know was that Wonwoo was completely aware of your little diversion tactic. He noticed the subtle shift in your eyes while he was apologizing to you, he just chose not to say anything. But he'll play along at least for now.

“So…are we officially back to being besties?” Wonwoo decided to say teasingly, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

You stare at him momentarily with an unimpressed look before breaking into a smile. Although you've known Wonwoo for a while, you would have never thought he could joke around like this, especially with you.

And well... it wouldn't hurt if you played with him a little more.

“I’ll say yes if you buy me a smoothie from the stand over there.” You pointed toward the barely visible smoothie stand that was parked a bit farther from the window where you and Wonwoo stood.

It was the same smoothie spot from a few weeks ago only this time they were in a small cart. Although they did have their own shop near the area, the owners would occasionally bring a little cart around the campus to help bring more people in.

Wonwoo let out a low chuckle before asking you, "Do you want the same thing from last time?”

Last time? There was absolutely no way that he was talking about your order from two weeks ago.

You quirked your eyebrow up at him, "…And just how sure are you that you remember my order?"

Okay, to be fair, it's not like you had a complicated order, but it would be surprising if Wonwoo was able to remember it considering that he only heard you order that smoothie once.

Wonwoo looked over to you once again, a small smirk taking over his features. "I'll have you know that it also happens to be my favorite so don't get too excited now," he said in a provocative tone.

Ugh, he was so annoying.

Before you could give his response any more thought Wonwoo had wordlessly started walking toward the smoothie stand, effectively leaving you behind. But rather than following him all the way to the stand you decided to find seating, preferably under the shade. It's been getting hot, you noticed it's especially true when Wonwoo is around.

After finding a spot under the shade you begin to mindlessly scroll on your phone. It wasn't too long after you sat down that a notification got a hold of your attention.

[www.onwoo wants to send you a message.]

Oh god. What did he possibly want now?

[www.onwoo] why didn't you come with me? :(

Before accepting his message request you glanced over to the smoothie stand, the line was pretty long now but Wonwoo had made it just in time to get his order in before the rush. As you were looking at him, he turned his gaze toward you making you immediately look back down on your phone.

[you] it's only a one-man job. also you look ridiculous with my bag.

Wonwoo softly scoffed at your message and looked in your direction. You weren't looking at him anymore but he was still able to see a small smile on your face.

[www.onwoo] i'll have you know that i already had 3 girls compliment me on the bag 😼

You rolled your eyes before shooting back a reply.

[you] i have immaculate taste that's why.

A few chat bubbles popped in and out before they eventually disappeared altogether. It wasn't long after that you heard footsteps quickly making their way toward you.

Just as you lifted your head upwards you heard Wonwoo's confident voice announce his arrival.

“One large smoothie for my little birdy.” He smiled as he spoke, knowing that you absolutely despised that nickname.

You squinted at him in disapproval, “And here I thought that nickname was officially gone for good.”

Wonwoo chuckled at that. He then proceeded to take a sip of your smoothie before officially handing it off to you.

You stayed frozen for a second before grabbing the smoothie and wiping the straw with your shirt.

Absolutely no indirect kisses will be occurring today.

Getting up from your spot, you begin to mindlessly walk toward the closest pathway near you, the weather is pretty nice today. After a few steps, you turned around to see a rather puzzled Wonwoo looking back at you but he still followed nonetheless.

“You’re a little too chirpy today… what happened to the oh-so-serious biker? Hmm?” You playfully poked at him as you said it, enjoying the sweet flavor of the smoothie he had gotten for you.

Wonwoo scoffed softly, holding back his laugh, “He’s still here, he just happens to be in a good mood now that his little birdy is talking to him again.”

But before you can even think of a snarky response Wonwoo continued.

“But if that’s what you’re into then I can always play the part for you,” he said with a smirk, his words smothered in arrogance.

You scoffed, amused by the implication he made. “Ew it’s definitely not like that.”

“Oh, but it can be.” Wonwoo moved closer to you, effectively closing the space between you both. His cologne invaded your senses once again; this time, it was proving much more difficult for you to escape from his grasp. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at your face or to be more exact, your lips.

After what felt like an eternity, Wonwoo finally pulled himself away from you. He smirked at the very flustered state that he had just left you in. It was clear that there was a mutual attraction between the two of you, an attraction you were trying to reject.

It was a challenge that Wonwoo was more than ready to handle.

You cleared your throat, "As fun as it was hanging out after class... I think that it's about time for me to head back home," you said as you recomposed yourself.

Technically speaking, there wasn't anything waiting for you back at your place but you felt that if you stayed a second longer things would definitely escalate between the two of you.

And again, your little stunt didn't go unnoticed by Wonwoo but he also wasn't surprised, if anything, he expected you to pull away like this. That was one of the first things he had noticed when he initially started talking to you, always leaving before things could really develop. It was cute in a way, but he was eventually going to get you out of your shell, it was only a matter of when.

Wonwoo faintly smiled to himself, “Okay but before I let you go, we should come up with a day to start our project together.”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

He continued, “How about this Friday? I have nothing going on that day.” Wonwoo's eyes landed on your figure as you went on your phone to check your work schedule for the upcoming week.

“Ugh, I have to go out with Hyunwoo that day,” you said just as your eyes landed on Sunday, it was completely open.

“…but how about this Sunday? I don’t work that day.” You looked up toward Wonwoo's eyes, hopeful that it could work out.

A million thoughts raced through Wonwoo's head. You're going out with Hyunwoo? Like as in a date or...? No, he has to stay composed.

“That works for me,” he mumbled, his gaze went toward the ground, kicking a few pebbles before looking at you once again, “but what’s going on with you and Hyunwoo?”

You couldn't help but laugh at Wonwoo's question which earned you a scowl from him. God, you were going to have so much fun with this.

“Why do you ask?” This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Wonwoo for teasing you earlier so like the tease that you are, you decided to play dumb with him. “Are you perhaps… jealous?” You said with a loud gasp as a way to rile him up, your hands flying to your mouth for dramatic effect.

You continued, "Don't worry Hyunwoo is just a boy who also happens to be my friend." Wonwoo's face physically hardened at the idea of Hyunwoo being your boyfriend. He knew that you saw him on a regular basis but he had yet to see any real signs that you were actually dating him.

Patting his back in a comforting manner you then explained, "Relax, don't get your panties in a twist. If you have to know, Hyunwoo is just a friend." While it was fun teasing him you most certainly did not want him to get the wrong idea about you and Hyunwoo.

"But if I'm being honest it was kind of fun bullying you, I should do that more often." It couldn't be helped! You just had to add that last part.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes. “Oh wow, who knew you were a sadist.” His tone was playful, an evil grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he played along with your banter.

Your jaw dropped at his comment, huffing out a loud, “Wonwoo!”

He raised his hands up in a surrender, “I'm kidding! I'm kidding… or maybe not.” Which then earned him a slap on his bicep.

“You truly are shameless,” you muttered out loud for him to hear.

By this point, Wonwoo had taken the lead as the two of you walked away from the courtyard. It was only until you were at the school's parking lot that you realized that he had purposely taken you here.

There was a beat of silence before Wonwoo let out a soft sigh. "Would you look at that... my bike happens to be over there..." He nudged you in the direction of where he had parked his bike a few hours prior.

Wonwoo let out another pathetic sigh, "It would be rude of me to just let you walk back home you know?" This time he grabbed a hold of your hand as he led you directly in front of his bike.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at the implication that he just made. There's absolutely no way that you are getting on his bike.

"Uh... I'm not so sure this is a good idea Won-"

Wonwoo shushes you and hands you a spare helmet, a shit-eating grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

"Just trust me," he says as he slides your tote inside his backpack, "that should hold everything in place." Wonwoo then handed the backpack to you, waiting for you to put it on, his eyes landing on your terrified figure.

This was going to be fun.

[Part Three: III]

1K notes · View notes

immortalmrwavell · 2 months ago

Text

A Worthy Replacement - Part 3

(Original story posted March 23rd 2023) This story has been significantly Updated!

Written for @bodyswappingandshit/@bodyswappingandshit-1

And finally the whole story is back. I made some very noticeable changes to this one which some of you who read the original may notice. A couple additional scenes were added. One scene was even completely changed and reworked from scratch to make things flow a little better. Hope you all enjoy!

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 2 Here! Read The Epilogue Here!

Martin found himself waking up early the next day. He’d forgotten to close the curtains last night, leading to the morning sun blinding him the moment he opened his eyes. He closed them again with a groan as he rolled over, bed creaking under his weight. He found himself lamenting over the amazing dream he’d had last night. In it he’d not only got to see the incredible Chris Bumstead in person but he also ended up transforming into him somehow! It was so vivid as well. Like he could actually remember taking that muscle bound award winning body all for himself. ‘If only that were real’ he thought. Only as the seconds ticked by, he started to remember more and more details from the dream. To the point where it no longer seemed like a dream. And come to think of it… his bed felt unusually small.

After a minute or two he rolled over a little only to find that his weight and size felt odd, not to mention the facial hair he felt rubbing against the pillow. His waking brain swiftly began to connect the dots causing Martin’s eyes to snap open and look down at himself. The very first thing he saw was a pair of thick meaty pecs nearly blocking his view of what looked to be an enormous hulking body hidden under the covers. That was no dream. He really did become Chris Bumstead! And now he was waking up in his body!

A giddy smile soon crossed Martin’s face as he went to town feeling and groping his body once again. Tweaking his bodybuilder nipples with glee as he threw the covers off himself to admire everything he had now. Running his hands along his abs, giving his meaty thighs a hard slap, squeezing his colossal biceps and of course massaging his gorgeous muscle tits with glee. The best part of it all though was that he had Chris’ morning wood! Naturally he just couldn’t ignore it for another second. He wrapped a hand around the meaty shaft, still relishing in just how much thicker it was than his old one, and didn’t waste any time. He was too horny to tease himself or go slow, instead jumping immediately to jackhammering his new cock with no remorse.

The real Chris, in his underwear form, was still sitting across the room atop the pile of clothes Martin had left him on. Forced to bear witness to his own body pleasuring itself. Having to listen to Martin grunting with that stolen voice as he pumped away. That alone was already torturous enough. Yet, just as he didn’t think it couldn’t get any worse, Martin started groaning about how much he loved being Chris Bumstead and having such a giant sexy body all to himself. Chris wished above all else that this nightmare would end.

It felt as though it went on for hours with this imposter furiously beating his meat to the point where hearing him moaning about finally cumming seemed like a mercy. Martin tensed his abs and, with nothing but pure lust for his new form in his eyes, shot a huge load all over himself. His muscular torso gaining a healthy coating thick cum as he couldn’t help but lay back with a huge grin on his face. How the hell did he get so lucky he wondered. To be graced with a body so perfect that he’d mistaken it for a wonderful dream.

The new bodybuilder took a minute or so to bask in the afterglow of his orgasm before sitting up. He reached over towards the bedside table, grabbing a box of tissues before pulling a couple out. He gave himself a good wipe down, making sure to get right in between the ridges of his thick abs where the cum had pooled. It was only as he tossed those used tissues into the bin across the room that the pair of underwear atop the clothes pile caught his eye once more. He’d completely forgotten about it until just now. Martin couldn’t help but let a sinister smirk creep across his face knowing the real Chris had seen everything that just went down. Was that mean of him to take so much pleasure in? Yes. But was it hot? Absolutely!

He pushed himself off the small mattress and planted his heavy feet on the floor before standing with a long stretch. Reaching his huge arms up nice and high as he stretched the expanse of muscle across his broad back. With a relieved sigh, Martin stomped over towards the discarded clothes and picked up Chris, still just a helpless pair of underwear. Immediately he could hear Chris’ muffled voice echoing through his mind again but he didn’t pay it much attention just yet. Instead he just scooped up the rest of Chris’ gym clothes from yesterday. After all, he was still in his old apartment and none of his old clothes would ever fit a body like this. Maybe he should’ve asked Mr Wavell to resize them. Oh well. Instead Martin made a mental note to head down to Chris’ house today where he’d be able to get some fresh clothes and check out that place for himself. It was his now after all. With that in mind and his clothes in hand, Martin promptly made his way towards the bathroom.

Chris found himself getting dropped onto the cold bathroom floor along with the rest of the gym clothes he’d worn yesterday before that Wavell guy came and fucked everything up. He could just about see Martin stepping in front of the mirror with a gleeful look on his face. As expected it didn’t take long for him to start checking himself out again. Flexing his arms and bouncing his pecs joyously. Even digging his nose into his armpit and getting a whiff of that fresh morning scent. Chris was beginning to wonder if that body snatcher was ever gonna get tired of that. Probably not at this rate.

Martin just couldn’t get enough of it. The raw size, power and smell of his body was nothing short of intoxicating. That alongside his gorgeous looks make him feel on top of the world. He admired every defined ridge of muscle as if he were the one that’d sculpted them. Feeling every bulge with a look of pure pride and satisfaction crossing his face. Truly nothing could beat the feeling of being a complete and utter muscle god. Hell being a gigantic hunk of a man was basically his job description now! Here to look amazing and set the standard.

Though before he moved to brush his teeth, there was one last thing Martin wanted to do. He moved a tad closer to the mirror and started pulling a bunch of silly faces that you’d almost never see the original Chris doing. It was so surreal and hilarious at the same time. He did all sorts from sticking his tongue out to a huge cheesy grin and even giving his reflection the puppy dog eyes. By the end he certainly got a good laugh out of it and weirdly enough seeing this face move completely under his command helped him feel just a tad bit more in tune with his new body. It was like showing his mind that the body reflected back at him was really his own now which helped with a subtle disorientation that came with seeing himself in a mirror.

After having his fun, Martin made sure to give his face a good wash and his teeth a clean before finally getting dressed. Naturally he pulled on the possessed underwear first and the moment he did, his mind was flooded with complaints from Chris about having to see Martin jerk off the cock that he stole, shouting about how it’s his body and demanding that Martin find a way to fix this ASAP. Martin tried to be nice at first as he pulled on his shorts and tank top but Chris just wouldn’t let up. In the end it took Martin losing his patience and threatening to toss Chris into the washing machine at max spin for the haunted underwear to finally pipe down a little.

“Look. I’m sorry. But you have to understand how FUCKED this all is for me.” Chris would continue in a less combative tone than before. “I’m a pair of fucking underwear! I don’t even know how the hell I'm still able to see and hear everything.” Chris couldn’t help but note the pungent scent of sweat that’d lingered on his fabric form overnight, now enhanced after having been secured around Martin’s groin and ass yet again. “…and smell everything.” He added with a grimace in his voice. He didn’t even want to acknowledge the fact that he could also taste every drop of sweat and cum that permeated his new form.

“Yeah I get it but I don’t have any clue how to undo any of this. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It feels like I’ve told you that like a hundred times and it’s only been like a day.” Martin huffed as he fixed his hair in the mirror. “The only person who could turn us back to normal is that Mr Wavell guy but I think he really gets off on doing stuff like this so… yeah.”

“So yeah?” Chris repeated. “Is that it then? I’m just supposed to accept being a pair of underwear for the rest of my life!? All while you get to steal my life!?” Chris was already getting fired up again.

Martin sighed. “Look. I promise I’ll figure something out. But in the meantime could you please stop whining? And stop telling me what I can and can’t do with this body while you’re at it. Until we find a solution, all this muscle belongs to me and I’m allowed to flex and grope it as much as I please.” He reached down and grabbed his dick through the fabric of his shorts and the possessed underwear. “That includes this cock. Got it?” Martin stated firmly.

Chris was silent for a moment, biting his metaphorical tongue so as to not say anything that’d get him thrown in the washing machine. “Fine.” He said flatly at last.

“Good. Glad we’re clear on that.” Martin replied, feeling oddly proud of himself for the confidence and assertiveness he’d displayed. He wasn’t sure if it was Chris’ personality bleeding through somewhat or if just being in his gigantic body was making Martin feel that way. Regardless of why, it felt good.

With that Martin gave his reflection one last look over before turning to exit the bathroom. He was pretty surprised with how well he was hiding his true thoughts from Chris so far. With their minds being connected he had to be careful as to not think too hard about how badly he wanted things to stay this way forever…

———

About half an hour later Martin found himself finishing a rather large bowl of oats along with a small smoothie he’d whipped up as per Chris’ suggestion. As he dunked the bowl into the sink to be washed, he began to wonder what the hell he should even be doing right now. After all he couldn’t just go to work like usual because, if Mr Wavell’s spell did what it was supposed to then, his former identity should’ve been erased altogether. That’s not to mention the fact that he was now a famous bodybuilder.

“So uhhhh… What do you do for money and all that? I mean it can’t all just be… whatever you get for being Mr Olympia right?” Martin asked curiously, not knowing nearly as much as he should.

Chris rolled his hypothetical eyes at the question before answering reluctantly. “I run two businesses that I mainly advertise online. You must’ve seen them if you were a fan. Cbum Fitness and Raw Nutrition. Oh and Bum Energy. Just another reason you need to find a way to fix this. Otherwise I know you’re sure as hell gonna crash and burn all of them. Especially since everyone probably thinks I’ve gone AWOL for the past day already.” Chris grumbled.

Suddenly it all clicked. Martin had seen all that stuff on Chris' Instagram and YouTube. Cbum Fitness was Chris’ clothing brand, Raw Nutrition was his supplement brand and Bum Energy was his energy drinks. Unfortunately Chris was probably right about the last part as well. Martin wouldn’t even know where to start when it came to running all of them. “Alright fine, I’ll head down to your place later but you’d better fill me in on everything I need to know about your friends, family and businesses. Otherwise it’s gonna be your fault when they crash and burn as you say.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. You want to take over my life that badly? Why would I tell you all that when the less I tell you the more of a chance I have of people figuring out you’re an imposter that somehow stole my body!” Chris scoffed.

“Okay. You wanna play it that way? The washing machine is right there, little guy.” Martin threatened yet again.

This time however, Chris didn’t budge. “Do your worst. You might have my body right now and sure there’s nothing I can do to stop you from touching it like a freak but there’s no way in hell in just going to give you everything you need to be me.” He stood firm.

Unfortunately Martin couldn’t force the information out of Chris and it didn’t seem like the man turned underwear was gonna budge on his stance. It was unfortunate. Martin had hoped after their conversation in the bathroom that things would be a little easier but it seemed this was still gonna be a battle. He thought about following through with his original threat until suddenly a naughty little idea popped into Martin’s head. Luckily for him, he was able to block his thoughts just enough for Chris not to hear what he was planning…

Seconds later Martin grabbed his phone off the counter before swiping over to the camera. It was only when Martin pulled his shorts down, also Chris to actually see what was happening, did the other man begin to question what he was about to do. Chris was expecting Martin to pull him off and toss him in for a 1200 spin in that dreaded machine… but Martin didn’t pull him off.

“H-hey!?” What the fuck are you doing??” Chris shouted internally as Martin proceeded to glance over his shoulder while taking photo after photo of his thick muscle ass. Doing his best to capture its size as it pressed tightly against the fabric of his underwear. Making sure to get plenty of low angles that would make it look as juicy as possible. All while listening to an onslaught of protests in his head. Once he was satisfied, Martin brought his phone back up and began scrolling through all the photos he just took. So many ass pics. He could already feel his cock starting to stiffen. If Martin had seen these kinds of pictures of Chris before this whole fiasco, he probably would’ve locked himself away to masturbate furiously for hours on end over them.

“Oooooo… that one’ll do nicely!” He smirked before exiting the photos app and jumping over to Instagram. Upon logging in he was delighted to see that instead of his original account, Martin’s phone was now logged into Chris’ official and verified Instagram account instead! It only made sense considering his former self no longer existed. With a sinister grin he immediately went to post a new story on the account. He grabbed the best of many ass photos he’d just taken and selected it for the story before adding the caption ‘Who else thinks my ass is lookin juicy as fuck today?’ His finger hovered over the post button for a moment, knowing the power he held right now. Then with one final smirk Martin pressed that very button and watched as within seconds the story was getting likes, DM replies and reposts galore! Not too surprising considering he now had over 25 and a half million followers!

It was getting increasingly difficult for Chris to read any of Martin’s thoughts as the latter got better at hiding them. It was scary how fast Martin had learned to do that. But he was able to gather enough of Martin’s residual thoughts to know that he’d posted something to Instagram. That coupled with the pics Martin had just taken threw Chris into a panicked spiral. “Oh no no no! What the hell did you just do!?” He shouted in a panic.

Martin didn’t say a word. He simply opened up the story again and lowered the phone in front of his crotch so that Chris could see for himself. Needless to say he was absolutely mortified to see an admittedly rather alluring picture of his thick muscle ass posted on social media for everyone to drool over!! There were already messages flooding in, mainly from gay men, thirsting over how incredible his ass looked. After a moment or two of shock, Chris went ballistic! Screaming and threatening Martin to take it down right away but the man now in possession of his body was completely unfazed by his madness. Instead he opted to set up an old tripod he hadn’t used in ages before opening his camera app once again and placing his phone on said tripod.

The hulking man took a few steps back after hitting the record button, making sure that his full body was in frame. With that he managed to capture a glorious shot of Chris Bumstead standing in only a tank top, briefs and gym socks. Those enormous thighs on full display for all to admire. The real Chris was both confused and very worried as Martin spun around to show his backside once more. Martin proceeded to look over his shoulder towards the camera once more with a grin before arching his back a little and bending his knees. Chris could already feel those colossal cheeks pushing against the back of the underwear. However it wasn’t until he began to feel a certain up and down, almost bouncing, motion that it dawned on him what Martin was doing…

“Mmmm wow… look at my ass shake!” Martin chuckled as he proceeded to twerk like a pro for the camera. “Fuuuuck… even with all the muscle there’s so much recoil to it.” He complimented himself while biting his lip. Within seconds his cock was at full mast yet again at the sight of his big muscle butt jiggling like it was. He made a point to show it off as much as possible, rotating his hips a few times before squatting down a little more and really throwing it back as if he were a porn star trying to make his living.

Chris was utterly appalled by what Martin was forcing his body to do. Let alone recording it!? The mere idea of seeing himself doing that in front of a camera was mortifying! He tried telling Martin to stop but by now he should’ve known that was pointless. Instead he just had to sit and endure it whilst feeling every shake of his own ass against his fabric body until Martin was finally satisfied.

“Now that is a hot video. I’m willing to bet there’s people out there who’d pay hundreds to see yo- me twerking like this. Maybe more…” Martin commented as he watched the recording back, knowing full well that before all this he would’ve spent his life savings to get his hands on a video like this. “So now you’ve got two choices. Either you tell me what I need to know or I post this video of me shaking this gorgeous ass. Simple as that.”

Chris was silent for a moment but that alone was telling enough. “Fine… I’ll tell you.” He mumbled at last just as Martin knew he would.

———

Over the next couple hours, Martin took a crash course on the personal life of Chris Bumstead. Making sure to ask every important question he could think of about his new life to which Chris reluctantly answered. Though it’s not as if he had much of a choice with the threat of his body twerking going viral looming over him. Martin tried to memorise the basics but ended up writing most things down. Especially the important stuff like bank details, passcodes and specifics about his businesses and brand deals among other stuff. But even the simple things were crucial to be honest. After all, the last thing he needed was his new family and friends interrogating him and thinking he had amnesia or something.

It was only when Chris mentioned that it wouldn’t be easy to fool his close family that something clicked for Martin that hadn’t crossed his mind until now. He was so focused on himself that he hadn’t realised that he now had a muscle monster for a brother in law as well! Iain Valliere!

Naturally Martin had seen Iain all over Instagram as well. Both from his own posts and in posts with Chris. And just like Chris, Iain was an absolute beast with breathtaking amounts of mass packed onto his impressive frame. Most would describe Iain as a mountain of a man with a rough exterior but in reality he was just a big teddy bear. And a cute one at that. Martin had fantasised about Iain nearly as much as Chris over the years. In his head he still imagined Iain towering over him with overwhelming size but now that Martin had Chris’ body, they’d be about on the same level. The thought was exhilarating.

Already Martin was thinking about how he’d not only get to meet but workout alongside and be family with Iain. His mind was stuffed full of dirty ideas revolving around the two of them groping and admiring each other’s bodies. Pressing their beards together in a whirlwind of kisses as they rub their bulges together. Martin grabbing at Iain’s muscle butt as they argue about who’s topping and who’s bottoming. Of course it couldn’t happen. Iain was his brother in law, not to mention he was straight. It was nothing but a delicious day dream… but then again Martin’s dreams had been coming true lately. So who knows?

“I swear to god. If you try to put my lips anywhere near Iain, I will find a way to send you to hell if it’s the last thing I do.” Chris growled from below. Apparently Martin hadn’t been masking his thoughts about his new brother in law all that well.

“Yeah yeah whatever.” Martin huffed dismissively. “That’s not gonna stop me from admiring that sweet eye candy when I get to meet him though.” He added with a chuckle.

Eventually 11:00am rolled around and Martin decided it was about time he hit the gym before checking out Chris’ place. He finished taking whatever notes he needed before gathering up his stuff and making a quick protein shake. He tossed it all in a bag ready to go before stuffing his socked feet back inside those huge pungent sneakers.

Chris had asked a couple times if Martin could take him off and wear some normal underwear to the gym. Of course Chris knew better than anyone how sweaty his body could get while working out and he didn’t want to experience that first hand when his own ball sweat starts to soak into him while Martin works those muscles. Yet Martin refused. After all, he was still a novice when it came to the gym when compared to someone like Chris. He might need the bodybuilding champion’s advice for certain exercises. And so Martin stepped outside to begin his walk to the gym. A place he’d no doubt be spending a lot more time at from now on in some form or another.

———

Upon stepping foot inside the gym once again, Martin couldn’t help but feel a wave of nervousness cascade over him. Until now this new body had been granting a newfound sense of confidence in himself. Knowing that he was bigger and stronger than most of the men here should’ve given him quite the boost. Yet instead Martin couldn’t help but blush and start to feel incredibly shy as he noticed people looking at him in awe, clearly recognising him for who he was. It was swiftly becoming clear that being a celebrity was something that would take some getting used to. For now he just tried to mind his business and make his way into the locker room, saying hello to a couple fans along the way and even taking a picture with one guy. Surreal.

Upon opening Chris’ locker, Martin was greeted by the spare clothes and towel he’d left in there the last time he was here. Well at least now he’d have something else to wear after the gym until he got his hands on some more clothes that actually fit around this tank of a body. For now he proceeded to drop off his bag in the locker after pulling out his protein shake. He closed it up before taking a deep breath and heading towards the sound of clanking weights and grunting men on the main floor.

Martin glanced around the gym at all the various different pieces of equipment. Of course he’d used most of it before and back then he wasn’t worried about making a silly mistake here and there. Nobody would’ve been looking at him anyways. But now? He could already feel everyone’s eyes on him again even if some of them were pretending not to stare. He couldn’t help but let his nerves get the best of him at first, instead opting to start by walking on the step machine for a while to build himself up. During which he took his sneakers off as it was usually best to do such during leg day… or so he told himself. Allowing the pungent scent from his socks and feet to be freed. Even now those socks were already damp with sweat and they would only become more so as his session went on.

During this he found himself having a bit of an inner conversation with Chris. The sentient underwear was telling Martin to stop procrastinating and just get the hell on with it. Besides they’d already gone over Chris’ whole leg routine for the day so all Martin had to do was man-up and get it done. Chris also made a note of saying he wanted it over with as soon as possible as he was already beginning to smell a faint aroma of fresh sweat which he wasn’t particularly fond of. Just hearing that though was more encouragement than anything to get stuck in and train as hard as possible.

After giving himself a moment to work up to it, Martin jumped off the step machine and made his way over towards the leg extension machine. Come on! He was Chris Bumstead now for crying out loud! He couldn’t let the fear of judgement get in his way. Instead he got himself sat down on the machine after adjusting the weight to the exact amount Chris had suggested. 130KG! Martin hesitated for a second as he slotted the pin in. He wouldn’t have dreamed of doing that much weight before but looking down at his gigantic quads gave him all the confidence he needed to give it a shot.

Though the weight was heavy, Martin found himself managing to crank out two full sets without too much issue. At which point he decided to up the weight from 130 to 140. After that he was finally starting to feel a burning in his quads. Ordinarily it would be a dreaded sensation that he’d have to push through to get the results he was striving for. But right now it felt incredible! It was sore and strenuous sure but it was like this body had grown accustomed to love that feeling. The burning sensation of pushing your muscles to work hard and grow was something this body was addicted to and he loved it! Before long it was like his legs had a mind of their own as they continued to push through the reps.

After another set of so he found himself satisfied and ready to move onto the next exercise and if memory serves then it was over to the hack squat machine. As Martin began his low weight warm up set, he failed to notice how some of the wandering eyes from around the gym began admiring his form on a… deeper level. There was a small group of women behind him giggling to each other about how his butt was even bigger than theirs. Another woman was quietly wondering to herself how it would feel to get dicked down by a hunk like Martin, or rather ‘Chris’. Meanwhile even one of the men was trying to hide his growing erection as he marvelled at the way Martin’s chiseled body strained against those tight gym clothes.

But Martin was too distracted by the voice of Chris in his head already complaining about the smell. Martin was already starting to build up a strong sweat and nobody was more aware of that fact than the pair of haunted underwear that had to absorb it. And absorb it he did, much to his dismay, as Martin continued to work up more and more of a sweat once he put some proper weight on the machine. Making sure to go nice and deep with every squat. Sweat dripping from every pore as that musky testosterone filled aroma only grew more powerful.

Beforehand Martin had been partially dreading the idea of having to workout everyday to maintain this body. It was a ton of work afterall to maintain a physique this godly. Most who say it’s a full time job and they’d be right. Yet now here he was loving the burn as any doubts about keeping in shape faded away.

“Fuuuuuuck… I’m so damp…” Chris mumbled in the back of Martin’s mind as the hunk finished up his last set here. “God it fucking smells…” he continued on, referring to Martin’s cock and balls stinking him up as they got hotter and sweatier along with the rest of his body. Though just hearing those comments made Martin’s dick twitch.

“That’s right… soak it up.” Martin whispered under his breath before taking a swig of his protein shake.

“Mmmff… Uurghh… F-Fuck you…” Chris managed to grunt back at Martin but he was clearly struggling through all those man smells that must’ve been overwhelming his senses.

Just knowing Chris was being forced to sniff it all up was driving Martin crazy on the inside, as if everything about this experience hadn’t already been driving him crazy. It was basically the equivalent of if Chris had been forced to shove his face into his own crotch and was unable to remove it. It was making Martin so damn horny but he had to keep his cool for now. He took a few deep breaths to help maintain his composure so that he didn’t spring a tent in the middle of the gym.

This cycle ends up repeating itself throughout Martin’s entire routine. As with every new exercise Martin would only find himself sweating more and more, leaving a seemingly endless supply of sweat for Chris to unwillingly absorb into his fabric body. After the hack squat he jumped to the leg press machine, keeping his feet to the bottom of the pad to help with quad isolation upon Chris’ instructions. Though Martin couldn’t help but notice the subtle slurring of Chris’ words as he explained. Like he was getting more and more drowsy as the session went on. Yet Martin continued on, pushing himself further and surprising himself with how good his form was thanks to muscle memory.

Before long Martin was completely drenched in sweat after completing a few sets of Bulgarian split squats, which were honestly hellish even with his incredible new body. But as he made his way over to a weighted calf raise machine, Martin couldn’t help but notice how quiet Chris was getting. Throughout that entire last exercise, all he heard was “Sooooo moist… Mmmmmm…” along with a couple other murmurs that he couldn’t make out. It seemed like having to absorb all that sweat and musk was having more of an even deeper effect on Chris’ consciousness than Martin thought it would.

It didn't take long for Martin to get into rhythm with the calf raises, tugging on his large sneakers again beforehand and entrapping his musky scent inside them once more.

As he did he found himself glancing around the room again. Seeing all these people of different shapes and sizes. And yet… he was the undoubtedly biggest of them all. Huge all over with pure muscle that would’ve made him look like a hulking monster had it not been for his perfect proportions. He couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride in that fact but he tried to stay humble all the same just as the real Chris would. Of course that didn’t stop him checking himself out a little in some of the many wall mirrors after his last exercise before finally heading back to the locker rooms.

He pulls out the bag with the spare clothes from yesterday along with a clean towel before getting undressed. He figured he could get a shower at Chris’ place if he wanted but it’d probably be better to take care of this workout stench ASAP. He proceeded to wrap the towel around his waist after taking off his possessed underwear and tossing them in his locker for the time being, still slightly concerned about the lack of communication from Chris as he headed towards the showers. The last things he’d heard were all low hums and groans.

Naturally a part of Martin wanted to do a replay of last night where he’d been worshipping himself under the steaming water but he couldn’t even begin to imagine the headlines if people heard him pleasuring himself in a public gym. Nope, now he was a celebrity he had to be a lot more careful about everything he did. Unfortunately that also meant he couldn’t go around stealing other men’s sweaty clothes and sniffing them, even if that was how he managed to get this famous body to begin with.

Thankfully he managed to keep himself under control despite not quite getting used to how erotic it was to wash such a huge muscular body. Martin stepped back into the main locker room with the towel around his waist once again before reaching into his locker and grabbing the clean clothes Chris had brought with him the previous day. There was a clean pair of underwear as well which he considered pulling on but Martin ended up grabbing the pair Chris was trapped inside again anyway to see if he’d gotten over whatever weird haze he was in earlier. After all, there was still so much he needed to learn about his new life.

Martin locked himself in a changing cubicle, ironically the same one in which his transformation had occurred yesterday, and pulled on the underwear first and foremost. Right away he could hear Chris’ voice in his head running through his head.

“Yooouu fuckinn asshole… Give back… my… my… mmmm-musk… fuuuuuck…” Chris mumbled. He was still slurring his words as if he were drunk out of his mind but at least he was talking again. “Wet… smelly… muuusskk…” He continued to ramble.

With a sigh of relief, Martin threw on the rest of his clothes before grabbing his things from the lock and marching his way out of the gym. Next stop was his new house so he could start figuring out his new life for real!

———

The next few days were a headache to say the least. Trying to integrate into another man’s life wouldn't have been easy regardless but especially for a man as famous as Chris Bumstead. It didn’t help that the real Chris was still quite reluctant to help out of spite half the time and Martin usually had to resort to blackmailing him again with the video he’d made.

When he first arrived at Chris’ house it was quite the whirlwind. He had friends and family alike all asking where the hell he’d been. He had come up with some elaborate lies as to why he’d gone awol for a day and a half. Not to mention half of them having seen his Instagram story which was a little harder to explain. Guess he hadn’t really thought that one through at the time. Regardless, by some miracle, he was able to convince them he was the real Chris. After all it's not like anyone would actually suspect something as insane as that right? Nonetheless Martin did get a few comments about how he seemed a little… off. Luckily he was able to convince everyone that he was just struggling with some ‘Personal Stuff’ that he wasn’t ready to talk about just yet.

He’d even gotten to meet Iain for the first time. Martin made sure to savour the big bro hug that Iain gave him, pressing their bulky bodies together. Iain went on to ask if Chris was doing alright with the weird stuff that had seemingly gone on in the past day or so. It was clear they had a deep bond and Martin could really feel how Iain cared for Chris like a real brother. But still… the lack of space between their thick powerful bodies made it difficult for Martin to control his growing hunger to just grab the other man and smash their lips together. He could see it so clearly in his mind. Wrapping his arms around Iain’s wide shoulders as they melted into the kiss together before rolling into the couch in a mess of lust and passion. But Martin knew that wasn’t how it would really go. Iain would likely push him away in disgust and who knows what would happen to their family after that. That said Martin thought it best not to accidentally blow up his brand new personal life the first chance he got. For now he’d just have to settle for his own imagination in that regard. Making the most of times when Iain hands brushed against Martin’s own bulging muscles during their future workouts.

Eventually Martin found himself settling into Chris’ life pretty well. He had a decent place for sure. Not too big but still fancy enough that anyone could tell he was fairly minted. Martin had already gotten glimpses of the place before when watching Chris’ YouTube videos in the past. It certainly looked a little different now though. Like there wasn’t as much of a feminine touch to the place anymore. He could only assume that was because of Wavell’s reality spell making it so he and Chris’ former fiancé were never together.

On that note, Martin was happy to find he was still absolutely a hundred percent gay. He’d wondered if maybe being inside Chris’ body would’ve made him bisexual or something since Chris had been straight but nope. He was as gay as could be. If anything he might’ve been more obsessed with men than before and that was saying something. As far as he could tell though, the world still believed he was straight. That was evident enough when Iain asked him if he’d been seeing any women lately. He’d dodged the question at the time but that did make Martin wonder how he was gonna break the news. A post on one of his socials would be the obvious choice but then again he could make more of a spectacle of it if he waited until a bodybuilding show to announce it. Or maybe he could set up an account on a gay dating app and let the news spread all by itself. Lots to think about there.

Besides that Martin continues to run his new businesses as well as he can while keeping up with the workout routine Chris had guided him through. Well sort of anyway. It was like every time Martin went to the gym these past few days, Chris was getting more and more drunk on the sweat and musk. Always slurring his words when they communicated and making off hand comments about how he wanted more sweat and musk. Going on about how he wanted the smell now rather than rejecting. Martin even resorted to washing Chris despite the protests in an effort to get him back to normal which didn’t work exactly how he’d planned. If anything it just pissed him off, saying how it felt like he’d been forced to eat soap. Sure it made him a tad more normal for a while but it didn’t take long for him to start groaning about musk again once Martin continued to wear him.

It got to the point where Martin had considered not wearing Chris at all from now on. It sounded like his mind was starting to erode the deeper the musk seeped in. Only wearing him once in a while to preserve consciousness. But he couldn’t. Martin so often found himself needing to ask questions for direction in his new life. Not to mention he couldn’t help the fact that hearing Chris groan about loving his former scent turned Martin on like hell. Even now after about a week of his new life he was back at the gym again and wearing his haunted underwear like usual. Just doing what was now supposed to be his normal routine while trying not to get a boner because of how much he loved his new self and how much he adored hearing the original Chris submit to his musk.

———

It was chest day for Martin and he was really aiming to push his limits on seeing how much he could bench press. He hadn’t actually maxed out on something like that yet. Mainly because he was usually working out on his own and he knew going super heavy would be a dumb idea if he didn’t have someone to save his ass if it went sideways. But today he had the perfect person to spot him for safety. None other than his brother in law Iain!

They’d taken to doing a session together in Chris’ home gym rather than a public gym since it gave them more space and privacy. Something that Martin had come to appreciate after all the looks and interruptions he’d received in public gyms. Plus this meant he could be all alone to secretly admire Iain’s body just as much as his own.

Martin had just spotted Iain as he did his own set of bench presses. The whole time he found his eyes glued to Iain’s huge meaty pecs. After taking off his own shirt, Martin had been able to convince Iain to take his off as well. Now all Martin could think about was rubbing his own hefty pecs against Iain’s sweaty ones.

Once Iain was finished, Martin began racking the bar with some more plates until that thing looked terrifyingly heavy. Totalling up to 200KG or 440lbs of weight.

“Jesus brother. Are you going for a one rep max or something?” Iain quipped as he watched Martin secure the plates with a clip on either side.

Martin smirked at Iain as he got laid down on the bench. “Yuuup. Last time I tried, my PR was about 197KG. Just thought I should try and make it an even 200. It’s been awhile after all and I feel like my strength has improved a little since then.” Martin explained and he was pretty much spot on. He’d remembered Chris talking about his personal records on YouTube before. The thought of using Chris’ own body to beat a record he’d set was exhilarating to say the least.

He gripped the bar firmly with good form as Iain stood over him after getting into position. Martin tried really hard not to think about how close Iain’s cock was to his head right now as he gritted his teeth and steadily lifted the bar off the rack and down towards his chest. Iain made sure to keep the bar level while not interfering too much, instead shouting words of encouragement down at Martin.

“Come on Chris! Up! Up!” Iain’s words rang through Martin’s head like a beacon of light that helped to ignite a deeper strength inside himself. With all his might Martin began to push the bar upwards, watching as it slowly lifted up. “There you go! Keep going! Come on, you're Mr Olympia aren’t ya?!” Iain continued, causing Martin to let out a roar in response. His arms and chest were on fire as he forced the bar to rise higher and higher until he finally did it. He actually benched 200 fucking kilos! Even as Iain was helping him re-rack the bar, Martin already had a giddy smile plastered across his face.

“Damn…” Martin huffed through laboured breaths.

Iain just smirked down at him. “You’re still not touching my PR.” He said playfully. It was true. Iain, the muscle monster that he was, had a record of about 225KG or around 500lbs.

“Well I train for the classic aesthetic, not to be a mass monster like you.” Martin replied while sitting up and grabbing his water bottle.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better.” Iain laughed.

The pair continued their chest day like normal. Hitting all the different exercises to keep their pecs huge and full. Egging each other on and joking like real bros. It was pretty crazy how well Martin had been able to slip into this. Already he found himself talking and acting quite convincingly as Chris. Iain hadn’t even questioned him since that first time Martin had met him. It was just a shame Martin couldn’t think of a way to get Iain into worshipping their bodies together without it sounding incredibly weird. Instead Martin would just have to resign to picking up Iain’s tank top ‘by mistake’ so he could stuff his nose into it in between sniffing all of his own sweaty clothes.

———

The morning after his delicious chest day with Iain, Martin found himself waking up with yawn in the new bed he’d gotten used to since moving into Chris’ house. It was much bigger than his old one and far better suited to his size. He dozed for a couple minutes before finally sitting up with a stretch.

He trudged downstairs before going about what had become his regular morning routine by now. He was wearing Chris yet again but the possessed underwear had become much more docile as of late. He would still answer when called upon but he always sounded sleepy and he didn’t seem to protest as much as he once did whenever Martin went on a self worship frenzy. Regardless Martin got on with his morning.

He’d had some breakfast and done some stretching when he made his way into his personal gym. He was ready for an intense back day but was stopped in his tracks when I saw another man he didn't recognise using the leg extension machine in his home gym!? Had he broken in? Was this stranger a crazy fan??

“Hey!” Martin shouted, swiftly making his way over. “What the hell are you doing in here?!?” He demanded an answer, subconsciously making his frame look as big and imposing as possible.

The stranger hardly even flinched. He glanced up at Martin before flashing him a quick smile. “Ah. Was wondering when you’d finally get your arse out here big man.” The intruder replied with a notable British accent. “Hold on. Got a few more reps.” He added without a care in the world as he continued to push the weight.

Martin just sort of stood back in shock. Who the hell was this guy? He wanted to be angry but he couldn’t help feeling strangely at ease for some reason. Of course it didn’t hurt that the man was a total hunk. He wore tight clothes that left little to the imagination and certainly flattered his hefty build. So thick with juicy muscle. Fuck. Martin was getting far too used to being exposed to hulking men as of late.

The stud finished his set, leaning back in the seat for a moment as he caught his breath before standing up. He placed his hands on his hips as he turned his attention back to Martin. “So. How have you been getting on with that body? No problems I hope?”

Martin narrowed his eyes at the stranger. “What the hell are you talking about? A-and why are you asking me questions!? You’re the one who broke into my house!” He bellowed, not quite processing what the man had said at first.

“What? You don’t recognise me?” The stud hummed playfully. “Suppose I do look a little younger since the last time you saw me.” He continued before raising both arms up into a double biceps flex. “And a bit juicier.” He added with a snicker. “It’s me. Wavell!”

Martin’s mouth hung slightly agape as his kind tried to process what the man before him had just said. Wavell? The same Wavell who had perfect silver hair and a lean physique that never failed to catch someone’s eye. The same Wavell who seemed to wear nothing but immaculate suits. The same Wavell who used some otherworldly magic to turn Martin himself into Chris Bumstead!?

“W-what? You mean…?” Martin hardly got a sentence out before the hunky warlock finished it for him.

“Yup. The very same Mr Wavell you know and love. I know I look a little different right now but come on Martin. You can tell it’s me… can’t you.” Those last two words came out slower and deeper as Wavell’s eyes glowed an unmistakable violet.

“Holy shit! It really is you! Fuck!” Martin shouted, not knowing whether to feel excited or nervous. “W-what happened to you? Did you steal someone’s body as well?”

Wavell looked down at himself before running his hands along the mountains he called pecs, massaging them a little before explaining. “Well yes and no. I won’t go into all the details but I essentially have two bodies. Sometimes in the silver fox daddy you saw before. Sometimes I’m a young hairy hunk instead. Depends on my mood I suppose.” He shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Oooh on that note, look at how fat the leggings make my arse look.” Wavell spun around before Martin even had a chance to think. He hoisted up the back of his shirt slightly to give a good full view of his heavy bubble butt as it pressed aggressively against the tight leggings that struggled to contain his lower body. “I mean my arse always looks fat but still. Fuck. Bet you wish your cock was buried to the hilt inside it huh?” Wavell shook his bubble butt enticingly.

“I… Uhhhmm…” Martin’s mouth went dry at the sight. Wavell was right though. Every instinct in his body was telling him to rip those leggings open and ravish that thick ass. But before he got a chance to even consider following through, Wavell spun back around again to face Martin.

“Ahhhh no need to answer. I know I’m adorably handsome and fuckable beyond belief.” Wavell said half jokingly while crossing his arms over his considerable chest. “But anyway, down to business. The real reason I’m here is because I wanted to ask if you’d received any of Chris’ memories yet?”

“Memories? Nope. I’ve just been asking him a ton of questions mainly. Although he hasn’t been as helpful lately. He won’t stop grunting and going on about my smell.”

Wavell grinned as it seemed Martin hadn’t figured out the other little aspect of the magic he’d placed on both Chris and Martin. “Well faking it might get you through the short term but eventually you’re gonna find yourself tripping up trying to juggle Chris’ life if you don’t have all the memories you need to do so. Luckily for you however, all you need to do is ask him.”

“What do you mean “ask?” Like he can just give his memories to me whenever he wants?” Martin questioned.

Wavell shifted on the spot a little while nodding his head. “Pretty much yeah. All you’ve gotta do is ask Chris to give you his memories. If you can get him to agree then they’ll automatically be transferred over to you. After that you should be all set for the long game.” The warlock stroked his beard nonchalantly, his bicep subtly flexing at the movement. “And guessing by what you’ve told me… I’m willing to bet he’s already pretty suggestive.”

Martin glanced down at his crotch. Was it really that easy all along? All he had to do… was ask?

“Well as much as I’d love to stay, chat and suck each other off, I promised my boyfriend I wouldn’t be long. I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up already to see what’s taking me.” Wavell chuckled. “Besides I’ve got no doubt you could have a guy over here sucking your cock within the hour if you really wanted. I doubt many gay men would say no to all of that. Unless you’re too obsessed with your new brother in law to think about anyone else of course…” He gave Martin a devious smirk.

“How did you know about that??” Martin questioned.

“Magic.” Wavell said as he waved a pair of jazz hands at the clueless sculpture of a man before him. “Anyway I’ve got bodies to swap, people to transform and a boyfriend to please so I’ll leave you to it bro. I have every faith that you’ll squeeze those memories out of your friend down there and be living your best life soon enough!” He clasped his hands enthusiastically. “So until we meet again Chris.” He smirked before vanishing right in front of Martin’s eyes in a swift tornado of purple smoke. Theatrical as always. He didn’t even give Martin a chance to say goodbye.

And so the bodybuilder was left on his own once again. Now he knew exactly what he had to do in order to truly make this new life his own. And he was going to take it.

———

The door to Martin’s new place swung open as he arrived home after a jog back from the gym, already having worked up a decent sweat and for good reason. He didn’t have anything lined up for the rest of the day as far as he could recall which meant he had the place to himself with no distractions. Perfect.

“So Chris. Not sure if you heard what that crazy magic guy said but I’m gonna need you to give up ownership of your memories.” He proclaimed out loud after tossing his shorts off and across the room. “So. You gonna give em to me or what?” He continued with a cocky demeanor.

Chris groaned a little as he tried to comprehend Martin’s words. “Mmmm… fuuck… what? Memories?… N-no. They’re mine… you can’t have them.” He just about managed to reply despite his seemingly drunken state.

“Oh yeah? Well let’s see if I can help change that tune of yours. You like feasting on your own sweat don’t ya?” Martin jumped on the treadmill without hesitation, tapping a few buttons before the thing started to move. “Well how about I get some extra cardio in for you?”

“Yes I… No… No I don’t absolutely fucking love that amazing sweaty scent. No fuck!…” Chris battled with himself and the new urges that’d been festering inside his mind ever since he was cursed. Urges that had become increasingly difficult to fight against to the point where it was bordering on addiction. The still sane part of him wanted to hate that overwhelming scent and taste that bombarded him almost everyday but this other twisted part of himself was in love with it. But he couldn’t give in. He couldn’t let this imposter win and take everything from him! He had to fight for his body! For his life!

Martin soon found himself turning the treadmill up from a jog to a run. Hearing the machine creak slightly under his weight with every step was delightful. More and more sweat dripped from every pore. Soaking his tank top and more importantly his underwear. He pushed himself to go for as long and fast as possible. Running until beats or salty sweat were dripping from his nose and the beard. He was drenched. So much so that Chris was being completely engulfed by the intensifying stench and taste to the point where he could hardly form a single thought about anything else. Before long he was groaning endlessly about how much he fucking loves the manly scent like a pig.

“Ready to… give up those… memories yet!?” Martin shouted heavy breaths down at the pair of sentient briefs as he slowed the treadmill to a brisk walk. He was hoping that the overload of stimulation would wear down the former Mr Olympia just enough to slip up and agree.

“Fuck! Fuck! So sweaty! So fucking smelly! Smells soooo good! I-I-” Chris stuttered as he finally processed what he’d been asked again. “I… I…. said no! You c-can’t have… mmmmhh… mmmy m-memories!!” He continued to protest despite it all which came as quite the shock to Martin. If it were him, Martin would’ve broken ages ago. Guess that went to show Chris’ champion mentality. A mentality that would soon belong to Martin one would hope.

He really thought that would do it though. Martin started to think that maybe he’d have to give it a few more days. Wait for Chris’ mind to corrupt a little further until it was hopefully more malleable. Maybe then he’ll be able to get the answer he wants. However, just as he was about to give up, an idea sprung to mind causing a devilish smirk to spread across Martin’s handsome yet stolen face.

The massive hunk of man hurried his way to the bedroom after jumping off the treadmill, kicking off his sneakers and peeling off his shirt. It wasn’t long before he found himself kneeled on his new king sized bed in nothing but his underwear while facing the huge bedroom mirror. Damn he loved his new place. Almost as much as he loved pleasuring this new body of his. A body didn’t ever plan on losing.

With that Martin sunk a hand down into his briefs, earning a strangely satisfied grunt from Chris as his fabric body was stretched. After which grabbing his already half hard cock and giving it a few strokes. Now usually this would be the point where he pulls down his briefs some more to unleash his cock in all its glory… but not this time. No sir. Those briefs stayed right where they were as Martin kept pumping away at his huge manhood despite the constraining fabric.

“H-hey? Mmmm fuck… W-what are you doing!?” Chris panicked a little while battling against his urges, trying hard not to moan out again about how much he adored the scent he was absorbing. Unfortunately for him Martin didn’t answer. He simply continued to jack himself off while glancing at his own reflection in the mirror and talking to himself. Telling his reflection how fucking huge and sexy he was and that he’d never go back in a million years.

It wasn’t long before Martin’s fat cock started to leak precum and, just like all the sweat so far, Chris was forced to drink it up and taste his former body’s pre. He tried to ignore how good it tasted at first but it was impossible. It was even better than all the sweat he’d been guzzling so far. So sweet but salty at the same time, yet so so addictive. It was divine! He wanted more. No he needed more! It wasn’t long before he was begging for more cum to taste. To spread inside his fabric form and savour it just as he did with all the sweat.

“Yeah you want it? You want my cum? Well I can give you a whole fucking load if you if you’re that much of a slut for it!” Martin promised, continuing to jerk with vigour.

“Yes! Yes please give it to me! I need it so badly! I need to taste it!” Chris begged in a frenzy. God if only his past self could’ve seen him now. Trapped as a pair of his own briefs and begging to be nutted inside. “Please just blow your load in me! I need it!”

That was it. Martin had him at last. He kept pumping for a few more minutes and letting Chris soak up as much precum as possible before finally posing a deal. “Alright I’ll give it to you. But only on one condition. Give me those fucking memories!!” He demanded.

Chris was silent for a moment. It was clear as crystal that he was trying to resist the temptation. He tried so hard to say no but he just as badly wanted to have that load. It was tearing him apart! So much so that he ended up shouting out an answer on impulse.

“Yes! Fine! Take them! Have my memories! I don’t care, just blow your looooaaaaadddddduuuhhhhhhh…” Chris trailed off as suddenly the very memories he’d just agreed to give up were suctioned out right out of his mind in one of the most pleasurable sensations he’d ever experienced.

“Holy fuuuuuuucckkkk!!!” Martin bellowed out as an entire life began pouring itself inside his head. Core memory after memory showing up in his mind one after the other as if he’d actually experienced them. All of Chris Bumstead adventures, experiences, ideas and skills swiftly becoming his. An entire identity transferring itself in a whirlwind inside his head as everything slotted into place. That experience instantly skyrocketed to the number one most bizarre thing Martin had ever felt and probably ever will feel. Quite literally having a life flash before his eyes.

Before he knew it the sheer intensity of the transfer caused Martin to bust one of the biggest loads of his life, soaking the underwear even more so than it already was with his thick virile seed. Some managed to push through the fabric and drip onto the bed sheets but most of the cum was absorbed rather quickly for… obvious reasons.

“Yessssss… cummmm! I love cum! Cum and sweat! Soooo delicious…” The original Chris mumbled mindlessly. With all his memories drained he hardly even knew who he was anymore. Now he was nothing more than a piece of horny sentient fabric with a one track mind. To serve his master. To show off his master’s ass and bulge. And of course to absorb his master’s essence.

After catching his breath, Martin slipped off the underwear before dropping it on the floor in a messy heap so he didn’t have to hear those horny moans any longer inside his head. Instead he took a step towards the mirror and looked at his reflection again. Before now he’d always felt like an outsider. And Imposter parading around in someone else’s skin. But now? He was the real deal. That man staring back at him in the mirror. It wasn’t some other dude who’s body he’d stolen. It was him! He was Chris Bumstead now! And nothing was ever going to change that!

“And I’ll be a better version of Chris than you ever were.” He muttered, looking back at the discarded cum filled underwear on the floor before turning back to the mirror. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward towards the glass and pressed his bearded lips against the reflection. Making out with ‘himself’ shamelessly. God he fucking loved himself. And he was gonna love his new life even more!

With that the new Chris made his way to the bathroom so he could wash up and get all this strong manly stench washed away for the time being. And as he stood under the running water, the new Chris began to ponder how he was going to introduce his new sexuality to the world yet again. I still hadn’t come to a decision but he was eager to introduce the world formally to the new and improved Chris Bumstead! One that was very… very gay.

Epilogue coming soon…

173 notes · View notes