#please i like making my own food but FEED ME | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evansbby · 3 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: EXTREMELY HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER, heavy depictions of domestic violence, physical and verbal abuse, NON CON, smutt, major angst, rough, breeding kink, dirty talk, mean Steve, housewife kink, domesticity kink, victim-blaming, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, self-blame.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve was always a great husband. Until he wasn't.

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Very angsty. Very heavy subject matter. This fic explores domestic violence. This fic can be triggering so please read warnings beforehand and please do not read unless you have read them.

“Sweetie, come downstairs.”

Steve only has to say it once and it’s enough for you to drop whatever you’re doing and follow wherever his voice is calling you. On this occasion, you switch off the iron and set it aside before straightening your dress and scurrying down to greet your husband.

“I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in my chores,” you explain, helping him take his jacket off before he wraps one strong arm around your waist and pulls you into him. Gosh, he was so big and strong! Steve’s physique always made you nervous and skittish – but in a good way, mostly. Carefully, you link your arms around his neck, reaching up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“You’re still learning,” Steve says after a long, lingering kiss to your lips followed by several small pecks that make you smile. “I don’t expect you to know everything straight off the bat. But for every rule missed, you must repeat it back to me.” His hand slips down to cup your ass through the thin material of your dress, and he gives it a firm squeeze as if to prompt you. “So, what’s the rule, baby?”

“That a good housewife always greets her husband at the door when he gets home from work.” You recite it dutifully, because by now you know all the rules by heart. Steve had made you learn them before you’d got married. You remember the long days of sitting in his lap and repeating each rule after him, and you also remember the soreness of your ass each time you got it wrong.

You never got them wrong anymore.

“Good girl,” Steve praises and you glow. You take his tie off for him, all the while asking him questions about his day. How work was, if anything special happened, if he was hungry. (Of course he was hungry, you knew Steve had a voracious appetite for both food and… other things.) He could eat enough for three men in one sitting – which was probably why he was so big and strong and imposing. And scary. Well, you were definitely scared of him. Sometimes. But you try not to think about that.

“This looks great, sweetheart,” Steve sits down on his place at the head of the table and pulls you into his lap. That was another thing about Steve, another one of his rules. He preferred you in his lap instead of in your own seat – at the dinner table, on the couch, anywhere. Even in the presence of other people, which embarrassed you sometimes but you’d never tell him that. It was one of his rules, and that meant it had to be obeyed, no questions asked.

“Thank you, Steve. I tried really hard to make all your favourites.”

He feeds you and himself at the same time, and now it’s his turn to ask you questions.

“Oh, my day was pretty boring,” you accept the bite of chicken pot pie he feeds you, chewing thoughtfully and trying your best to ignore the way your heart starts pitter-pattering harder. “I did all the chores I was supposed to do, and then I did some shopping. I got us some pretty new bedsheets.”

“That’s nice, sweetie. Did you buy anything for yourself?”

“No. I just came straight home after that, and…” Your voice trails off, and you hope your increased heartrate and clammy palms aren’t showing in your face.

“And what?” Steve blinks, those angelic blue eyes looking at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t lie to him. He was your husband. And it was one of his main rules, after all – you weren’t allowed to lie. And it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong…

“Well…”

The change in his demeanour is subtle, but it doesn’t escape you how he grabs your arm, his finger stroking against your bare skin as a deathly silence falls over the room, as if he’s awaiting your next words with careful patience.

You shuffle on his lap. Oh, why didn’t you just spit it out the moment he’d come home!? Now he’d think you’d deliberately kept it from him until he’d asked, and-

You take a deep breath, “Th-The car broke down on the way back.”

Silence. You dare to peak up at his eyes to see them impassive, waiting for you to continue. He gently sets the fork down beside his plate, an unreadable expression on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I don’t know what happened, but it broke down and it wouldn’t move and I…”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

It’s a toneless question, any warmth he’d possessed earlier now gone, and it makes you start shaking even more.

“I tr-tried but there was no service, and I knew you’d be busy, and… and… I’m sorry, Steve, I know I should have called you. I know I’m meant to call you when stuff like this happens, but in that moment I–”

“How did you get home?”

Another question. His voice flat, but the grip on your arm tighter than ever. You gulp.

“L-Luckily there was someone passing by, and they said their auto-repair shop was only five minutes away, and–”

“They?”

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now, and you clasp them in your lap in a bid to get them to still. Your breathing grows more rapid, you can feel your palms grow sweatier as you squirm under your husband’s deathly calm gaze. You’re too afraid to look directly at him, but you know he’s expecting an answer. For a split second, you consider lying. But the consequences of that notion have you spitting out the truth before you can think about it any further.

“H-He.”

Steve goes deathly still. You hear him inhale sharply, his body tensing up even more underneath you. A part of you wants to burst into tears and run, run, run! But fear has you rooted in place, and even if it didn’t, he’s got a firm grasp on you, and you could never, ever overpower him.

“You got into a car with another man.”

He doesn’t even pose it as a question. No, the words leave Steve’s mouth in a statement of contempt and accusation. Except his tone is still so levelled, so dangerously low and contained.

“N-No! No, Steve, no! He offered to tow the car, and take it back to his repair shop. H-He was fixing it, Steve! And I swear I was only there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes! I promise, and then I came straight home!” You’re tripping over your words, trying to get your explanation out. The explanation you’d subconsciously been rehearsing in your head all day because you knew it would come to this. You knew the moment that friendly stranger had tapped on your car window and offered his help. But what else could you have done in that moment?

“Steve, I know I should’ve called you the moment I had service, but I –”

“–But you were too busy with the mechanic.”

“No, no, Stevie, it’s not like that at all!” In hopeless desperation for this not to end badly, you bravely lock eyes with him, cupping his face in your hands, “I just didn’t want to bother you, I knew you had an important meeting around that time.” And I was also too scared to call.

His grip on your arm steadily tightens, till you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh. And you can see the vein in his forehead, the way his face is flushed red, the way he’s clenching his jaw, the way his eyes look so dark.

You wince, “S-Steve, please, you’re hurting me.”

“What did you do?”

“H-Huh?”

“In those fifteen, twenty minutes you were at his shop. When you should have been calling or texting me. What did you do?” Steve grips your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing painfully down on your skin as he makes you look up at him. His expression is unreadable, his tone still low, but you can see that vein pulsing in his forehead. You know what it means.

“Nothing, I promise! I just sat in the waiting area, and…and there was no service, and–”

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not, I-"

“You were fucking him.”

The accusation drops like a pin, except it feels more like a car crashing straight into your heart. You feel everything; hurt, panic, but most of all – fear.

And Steve’s eyes are so, so dark, and his words so matter-of-fact. He’s still got a death-grip on you, holding you firmly in his lap while you start shaking violently. Oh no, no, no, no�� How could you persuade him that you hadn’t done that? How you could never do that?!

“No, Stevie, I would never! I t-told you, he was fixing the car, I barely spoke to him, I–”

“You fucked him. In the car that I bought for you. And then you thought you could keep it a secret from me.”

He isn’t hearing you. No, he’s going to that place. That place where his eyes turn black and his expression goes all far away, and his anger consumes him to the point where rationality goes completely out the window. And you’d give anything to not be dragged down into his dark place, where your pleas reach deaf ears, where your tears and screams don’t mean a single thing. Well, not until it’s all over.

“I didn’t, Steve, please believe me. I would never cheat on you, never ever. Please, you’re hurting me!”

His fingers clamp down on your upper arm so hard, you know they’ll leave a mark. Another one you’ll have to hide with a meticulous makeup routine and carefully selected clothes.

It takes all your strength to pry his hands off you, and you jump off his lap like a hot poker, slowly backing away as dread fills up your stomach. Dread that increases tenfold the moment he stands up too, up to his full height that makes you cower in total, utter fear.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his tone is hard now, louder, more biting, and your eyes zero in on his hands as they curl into fists at his side. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

You continue backing away slowly, acutely aware that he’s stepping forward each time you take a step back. And like clockwork, you know how this goes. Soon your back would meet the wall, and then… Your eyes dart up behind him, up the stairs… Maybe, if you could get to the bedroom in time, perhaps lock the door?

“ANSWER ME!”

You jump, “No, Steve, I don’t! B-But I’m telling the truth. I barely spoke two words to the man, all I did was wait while he fixed the car. Please believe me,” your voice drops down to a broken whisper, “please…”

No talking to other men. It was perhaps Steve’s biggest rule. And it hadn’t always been like that, but slowly, through time, this rule had developed into one that your husband was the most obsessed with. The most angered by if ever broken by you. And what had started out as a little bit of a jealous streak had turned into white hot, obsessive, possession – almost paranoia. He saw red if a man ever looked your way, and God forbid if he thought it was the other way around…

“You’re fucking lying,” he spits out, each word coated in pure disdain that feels like ten stabs to your heart. “Had you been telling the truth, you wouldn’t have hid it from me until I asked you how your day was. You would have told me yourself, but you didn’t. You slept with someone else, and you thought you could fucking hide it from me, didn’t you?”

“No,” you whisper.

It only takes him two strides to get to you. And you’re frozen in fear but it’s like your body goes into fight or flight mode. He lunges at you, and you know he’s going for your throat but by some miracle you dodge him. And then you run, run, run for the stairs. Two at a time, oh you could make it! You’d lock yourself in the bathroom, wait for his anger to subside. You’d done that before, sometimes it would work, sometimes–

You take the stairs two at a time, but Steve’s legs are much longer than yours. He’s bigger than you in every way possible, stronger, faster too. It’s almost laughable how quickly he catches up to you, his footsteps heavily thudding on the floorboards. On the upper landing, and you’re almost at the bedroom door when he grabs your arm and yanks you back, and then–

SMACK.

The first hit always winds you. You never get used to it – his fist connecting with your jaw, the way your head snaps to the side, the ringing in your ear that blocks out all sound for a handful of moments. And then the pain, the numbing paint that’s all too familiar, radiating and spreading like hateful wildfire as you reach up to shield your face.

“Don’t fucking run from me, you little slut.” Steve slams you against the wall before pinning your wrists by your sides. “Look at me, look at me. I’m going to give you one last chance to tell the truth, and you better think very carefully before you speak, and don't you fucking lie to me. Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

A broken sob escapes your lips, a whimper filled with desperation, “N-No.”

It’s almost like he’s donned a mask as his handsome features twist into a snarl, his eyes narrowed to slits and yet you can still see the crazed darkness that consumes them like a cloud of black smoke. His lip curls in what looks to be contempt, and he shakes his head. “You’re a fucking liar.”

His grip on you tightens, if that was even possible, and his eyes flash, and suddenly he’s shaking you violently, your head hitting the hard wall with a thud as you cry and struggle against him.

“How the fuck could you? How could you sleep with him? After everything I do for you!? Answer the fucking question, how could you!?”

You want to defend yourself, tell him that you didn’t, you wouldn’t, how could he possibly believe you could? But you know there’s no point, you know he doesn’t hear anything when he gets like this. No matter how hard you cry, how much you beg and plead with him. He only sees red, never facts. And you’re still in shock from the first hit, so when you open your mouth nothing comes out.

The slap comes out of nowhere, the harsh cracking sound echoing across the hallway and bouncing off the walls as if to mock you. Your head whips to the side, and you’d have fallen down from the sheer force had he not been holding you up with his other hand.

“P-Please stop,” you croak out, finally finding your voice as the tears stream down your face from the pain of it. From both the physical and the mental anguish because you’d truly done nothing wrong! Hadn’t you? Sometimes he made you question yourself with how angry he’d get at you. “Please, Steve, it hurts, I didn’t–”

“Shut the fuck up and stop lying!” Steve roars, shaking you so hard you have to close your eyes because everything’s starting to spin now. “You thought you were fucking slick, didn’t you? Fucking someone else behind my back while I was at work, then coming home and acting like everything was fine, doing your fucking chores like you didn’t just act like a goddamned whore,” he shakes you again, his grip on your shoulders so hard you feel like passing out. “-thinking I wouldn’t’ find out, thinking I’m some fucking idiot who can’t put two and two together. That’s what you thought, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

He backhands you hard when you don’t answer, before throwing you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes. Limply, you lay there, half disorientated and half crestfallen because you can’t even find it in you to defend yourself anymore.

He strides into the bedroom before throwing you on the bed, hard. You land with a thud, still clutching your face that blooms with never ending pain. Again, you try to shield yourself, but it’s like a rabbit trying to hide from a hungry lion. A hungry lion fuelled by crazed hatred and contempt. And that’s what hurts you the most – how he looks at you like that. As if you’re the worst person in the world. As if he really hates you and truly believes you’d ever cheat on him.

“You’re mine,” Steve snarls, climbing on top of you and once more grabbing your wrists. “I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re a free piece of ass who can run around town spreading your legs for the first man who looks your way. I own you, you fucking whore, and it’s your fucking fault that I’m doing this now. But you need to fucking learn…”

“N-No, please,” you cry out weakly when he grabs the material of your dress and rips it clean in half. Oh no, not this. Please not this. Not when he was so mad, so violent, not when he had that crazy look in his eye. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t. He wouldn’t be gentle, and it would hurt so much. And you were already hurting so much. “Steve, I’m begging you, please, please, don’t! D-Don’t, I promise I’ll be better! I didn’t cheat on you but I swear, next time I’ll call you, next time I’ll–”

Another slap to your face shuts you up, and your sobs turn silent. Still there, just silent. Filled with dread and anguish and fear for the horrific roughness that is to come. That always came no matter how hard you begged. No matter how careful you were to follow his rules. You always messed up somehow. Oh, you could’ve been better! You should’ve been better and then you wouldn’t be here! And he’d still be nice, and you’d be sitting downstairs eating dinner and laughing, and…

Oh, how did it get to this?

“Everything I do for you, and you throw it all back in my face,” Steve snarls, and he’s so unrecognisable. Like a dark stranger looming above you, pelting out harsh words that he knows will cut deep, twist like a knife straight through your heart. Make you feel like you’re the worst person alive, and certainly the worst wife. Someone who can’t do anything right. Someone who can’t even keep her husband happy.

“I give you everything you could fucking want, I provide for you, don’t I?” He grabs your face with one hand, squeezing so hard it hurts. “Don’t I? Don’t I fucking give you anything you could ask for? And all I want in return is for you to listen to me. Your goddamned loyalty, that’s all I want. For you to fucking understand that you’re my property, that you need to do what I say. And what do you end up doing? Cheating on me like the fucking whore I always knew you were.”

He makes you believe it sometimes. Well, at first you didn’t, but now you’re not too sure. Maybe you were a terrible wife, because otherwise why would he always get so mad? You always tried your best to keep him happy but you never did enough. Did other wives do more than you did? Was that why their husbands never got mad at them? Was that why they were always happy and relaxed? While you walked on eggshells, waiting for him to explode? Maybe he wouldn’t be like this if he were married to a different woman. A better woman. Someone who didn’t make as many mistakes as you did. Someone who didn’t annoy him that much. Someone who kept him happy and didn’t make him so mad all the time that he had to accuse her of cheating. Someone he didn’t look at with pure hatred in his eyes, like he was doing with you now.

Steve kisses you roughly, possessively. Pressing his lips down on yours as if he wants to imprint the feel of them on you, sear it straight into your memory. As if you could ever forget. But it’s the sweet kisses from Steve that you want to remember, not the hate-fuelled way he’s kissing you now. But you just lie there limply, lie there and let him kiss you, let him pull your now tattered dress off you. And you wonder if he can taste the saltiness of your tears, and you wonder if even a tiny part of him cares.

How did it get to this?

“I’ll show you,” Steve mutters darkly, “I’ll show you who you fucking belong to. And it’s all your fucking fault, because you’re gonna feel it. And maybe this time, you won’t fucking forget it.”

You look beyond his shoulder as he unzips his fly and pulls his hard cock out. You look at the tiny speck on the wall, focus on it really hard. Focus on it till your vision blurs, focus on it so you don’t feel the excruciating pain as he forces his huge cock inside you. Focus on it till you can’t feel his hand wrapping around your throat, till you can’t hear the pure hatred hurtling out of his mouth. Maybe if you focused hard enough, it would all go away. Like magic.

It wasn’t always like this.

You remember your first date with Steve, almost a year ago to the day. Your friends had set you up with him, telling you he was only a couple of years older than you. Great looking, had an established career. But a bit shy, a bit reserved, someone who mostly kept to himself. You’d agreed, because you were shy and reserved too, and suggested ice-skating as a first date activity to help, well, break the ice.

And it had been so funny, because Steve couldn’t ice skate for the life of him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he’d huffed, awkwardly “skating” up to you in the middle of the rink. Except he was less skating and more just dragging his skates across the ice while holding his huge arms out to balance himself. It was comical, because he looked so big and out of place, and yet so cute that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“It just takes a while to get used to,” you’d answered, skating around him before impulsively grabbing his hands in case he fell over or something. And you’d immediately widened your eyes when you’d realised what you’d done, about to drop his hands like hot pokers because you were never this forward on a first date! But Steve had chuckled, keeping a tight grip on your gloved hands and pulling you closer.

“Nope, I just think it’s in my genetic makeup to be bad at ice skating,” he’d said as he’d let you guide him back to the side of the rink where he could hold the railing, and yet he didn’t let go of your hands as he winked. “Either that, or I’m actually a pro who’s faking it just so you’ll hold my hand.”

You’d gone to the Christmas market after that, and Steve had bought you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. You thought he’d stop holding your hand once you were off the ice, but he’d held it throughout your stroll through the markets. You’d delicately sipped your hot drink, secretly thrilled at how nice and safe it felt to hold his big, warm hand. How he was so handsome and he genuinely seemed interested in you.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose,” Steve had pointed out, and before you could wipe it off, he’d done it for you. And then his hand had stayed on your face, cupping it gently while the market bustled around you, busy as ever but the two of you seemed to be in your own little bubble. And then he’d kissed you, and it had felt so incredibly right. Like coming home from a long, cold day and being met with the warm familiarity of your own house. A house where you felt safe, and content, because in that moment, that’s what he made you feel.

Safe, warm, content, happy.

“I’m never letting you out of this fucking house again, you hear me?” Steve grunts, slapping your cheek not-so-lightly and knocking you out of your reverie. You blink several times, hoping it’s just a dream. But his rough thrusts remind you that it’s not, and your mouth curls in pain as his hand goes back to wrap around your throat. “Not until you learn not to act like such a goddamned slut, not until you learn to fucking listen to me, and be good. This is all your fucking fault, okay? That’s why I have to teach you.”

“St-Steve,” you cry lightly, unable to breathe because of how he’s pressing down on your neck, “I-I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up!” His thrusts grow harder, even more unforgiving. And all you can do is lie there and take it, and hope and pray and wish that you were somewhere else right now. With someone else. Or no one at all. His hands, which you’d known to be so gentle once upon a time, are rough as they squeeze and fondle and slap you as if you’re an animal, a toy, something he wants to pound till he breaks. “You deserve this, you little whore. Tell me, was that fucker’s cock worth it? Was it worth ruining what we have? FUCKING TELL ME!”

So unfair. It was so horrifically unfair. Because you’d never think of cheating on him, never ever. You love Steve, despite everything you love him so much. But he didn’t love you. Of course he didn’t. Maybe he had at first, but he didn’t anymore.

What had you done to make yourself so unlovable? What had you done to make him hate you so much?

Again, you think how he feels like a stranger, a stranger who’s hurting you and violating you in the most unforgiving way possible. All while you lie there and take it. And how was this Steve? The very same Steve you’d fallen in love with less than a year ago? The same Steve who’d confided everything in you? Told you that you were the one for him, told you how much he loved you, how happy he was that he’d found you? How was this the same Steve?

You still remember how surprised your friends had been with how close you and Steve had gotten in such a short amount of time. But they’d also been happy, and taken all the credit of course, as they’d set the two of you up.

And you remember feeling so goddamned happy all the time. Happy whenever you got off work and you got to see Steve. Giddy because of how comfortable you felt around him, despite knowing him for such a short period of time. One date turned to two, which turned to five, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to spending nights at his place. Cooking for him, kissing him, climbing up on his roof and talking all night while staring up into the stars.

It was during one of those moments when Steve had told you that you were the first person he’d felt close to in a very long time. He’d told you that he hadn’t had a great childhood, that his parents hadn’t been very nice people. And because of that, he’d run away when he was sixteen and never looked back. He didn’t speak to them anymore.

He’d told you he’d had a girlfriend before, and they’d been together many years until she cheated on him. And he’d squeezed your hand then, looking up at you from where his head had been resting on your lap, and the stars in the sky had reflected in his eyes so brightly, and he’d told you that you were the first person since then that he’d felt connected with, that he’d felt like he could be himself around. That he loved you so much despite the fact he’d only known you a couple of weeks. He loved you so much and so hard, that you were all he could think about. That you consumed him. And he loved that. And he loved you.

So, where did all that go?

That’s what you wonder now, your body jolting from each unforgiving thrust as the man who is your husband fucks you relentlessly, fucks you like he hates you. Tells you repeatedly, again and again that it’s all your fault.

Your fault. Maybe it is your fault. Oh, if only you hadn’t gone out today! If only you’d just stayed at home and been good! Then the car would’ve never broken down, and none of this would have happened, and Steve would’ve been happy. And you wouldn’t have made him upset like how you always seem to do now.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking disobey me again,” he mutters, pushing your legs up and throwing them over his shoulders while you moan in pain underneath him. His cock is a blur, pummelling in and out of you like a jackhammer. And it’s crazy, the very person who’d made you feel such pleasure in the past, could be inflicting so much pain on you now. “I’ll make sure they all know who you belong to the moment they fucking look at you. Fuck, I’ll show you.”

The contempt in his tone kills you over and over again. Makes you think you’ll never be good enough to make him happy. Make anyone happy. Maybe it was you who had ruined Steve, turned him into the monster he’d become. Maybe it was all your fault, your fault that the sweet, caring man you’d met had turned into your worst nightmare. Someone you were so fucking scared of that sometimes you couldn’t even breathe.

“I’ll knock you the fuck up,” Steve grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours, “Maybe then you’ll get it through your head that you’re not the free piece of ass you seem to think you are. And everyone will see who exactly you belong to.”

You whimper, too frightened to protest, your body jolting with each thrust. And it always hurts when he’s this rough, it always burns so bad because of how big he is.

You remember a few months into dating him, when he’d taken your virginity. He’d been so sweet, so gentle. Holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while you cried in his arms despite trying to be brave. He’d told you he was big, and that it would hurt and he’d pull out if you wanted him to. But you’d held on to him so tightly that night, because despite the pain, it had been so special to you. And he’d been so kind, so tender, and you’d basked in the glow of being loved. And the pain had been worth it, because you’d felt so close to him, and he’d told you over and over again how much he loved you, how special you were. How you completed him. How you were so pretty, so exquisite, how if he could take all the pain away from you and give it to himself, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Now, he roughly presses his huge palm against your abdomen, and you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach as he continues to jut into you with inhumane force. Each thrust makes the bed rock underneath you, the bedposts hitting the wall with thwack after thwack while you silently lay there, the tears drying up on your cheeks, and yet your whole body still burns with pain from the constant onslaught.

“God fuck, your pussy’s still so fucking tight despite how much of a fucking whore you are,” Steve mutters through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, get you pregnant once and for all so everyone knows not to fuck with what’s mine. And I swear to God, from now on you won’t even look at another man, let alone fuck some hick ass mechanic who’s trying to take you away from me because you’re too goddamned stupid to realise it.”

He hadn’t always so possessive to the point of insanity. Not the way he is now. You remember the old Steve, how he’d see you having innocent interactions with other men and not think twice about it. But slowly and surely, that had changed.

“I don’t like you talking to other men,” Steve had admitted to you once a few weeks into your relationship. “I know it’s irrational but I just hate it.”

“Oh, Stevie, it doesn’t mean anything,” you’d giggled, although you remembered secretly feeling so giddy that he cared enough about you to be jealous. That meant he was serious about you! “It’s you that I want, I couldn’t care less about anyone else!”

“I know,” he’d sighed, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses on them in a way that made you giggle even more. “I guess it’s just something I have to work on.”

But what had started out as simple, innocuous jealousy had morphed into something so much bigger, twisted, and ugly.

It began with a simple request; “please baby, don’t talk to him. I don’t like it.” And you found yourself listening to him, thinking he’d leave you if you didn’t. You distanced yourself from any male friends you had, including co-workers and even your relatives. You couldn’t stand to see Steve upset, and he’d asked you so nicely, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

After that, he’d made you move in with him. “It’s just easier this way,” he’d assured you, despite the fact that you’d only been going out less than two months, “I feel more comfortable knowing you’re safe in my bed at night, and then I don’t worry as much.”

Then he’d made you quit your job. “I don’t like how those men at your work look at you,” he’d said, “I’ll take care of you, sweetie. You don’t need to work anymore.” And so, you’d quit without a second thought. It’s what had made Steve happy, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

Then, he’d wanted to know where you were all the time. “I worry about you so much, you have no idea,” he’d told you once when the two of you were in bed and he was holding you close, stroking your hair while you lay on top of his chest. “I need to know where you are all the time, okay? I just… I need to know. And who you’re with. You need to tell me, or else I’ll go insane.”

Constant check-ins, constant texts. You were allowed to go out with your girlfriends, but never past a certain time. And certainly never a holiday or a girls’ trip. He had to know who your friends were, if they had boyfriends or brother, he had to know everything. And you were so in love with him, you hadn’t even realised that maybe it was all too much.

“My ex-girlfriend was having an affair behind my back for one year,” he’d told you quietly one night. One hot August night when the two of you had climbed up on his roof, and he lay with his head in your lap. His feathery lashes fanning his cheekbones, and his face softened by the moonlight, he’d looked like an angel that night. “One whole year, and I didn’t have a clue until the day I caught her. Them. I caught them in my bed.”

You’d listened with baited breath, because Steve never really spoke much about his life before you. Not his childhood, nor his parents who he didn’t speak to. And definitely never his ex-girlfriend.

“I just can’t lose you,” he’d said, staring hard at the dark night sky, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, if you left me. If someone took you away from me, I think I’d die.”

You’d kissed him then, and whispered against his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, Stevie. I love you so much, and there’s nobody else out there for me. Just you. So don’t worry, because you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

He’d sat up and taken you into his arms, hugging you so tight you couldn’t breathe – but in a good way. “Forever,” he’d mumbled into your hair, “I’ll have you forever, and then after that too. I’m never gonna let you go.”

You’d married him a month later in a small ceremony with just your family and some friends. And he’d looked so happy on that day, so handsome and happy and he’d held you close to him the whole night. You were happy too, and thrilled that he was so happy. “Now everyone knows your mine,” he’d whispered in your ear while you two slow-danced, “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you. I love you.”

“If you ever fucking cheat on me again, I’ll kill him.” Steve grabs your jaw hard, his fingers pressing against your skin until you cry out, ripped away from the safety of your memories and back into the present. “And you too. You got that? I’ll fucking kill you both.”

You’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and so you just lay there. Limp, shaking like a leaf yet feeling so numb. So numb and alone because he wasn’t your husband. He was a monster, a monster you didn’t even recognise. Your angelic husband warped into a monster because of you, because of you, because of you!

With a grunt, he unloads inside you. His hot cum searing you from the inside out, and there’s so much of it. And he holds you up, with your legs pressed up over his shoulders, spilling load after load of his seed into you, making sure it stays, making sure it sticks.

And then he throws you aside, rising up to his feet and staring at you with blazing eyes. He’s still fully dressed in his suit, while you lie below him in your tattered dress. The one you’d chosen so painstakingly to wear for him today.

With glassy eyes and limbs that don’t move, you watch him as he does up his fly, muttering profanity under his breath. He’s still so angry, you can tell by that vein on his forehead, and the way his fists are balled up by his sides. You hate his fists. They scare you more than anything else in the whole world.

He doesn’t utter another word. Instead, he leaves. You hear him go down the stairs, hear the jangle of the car keys, the slam and lock of the front door.

He was gone.

Your body curls up into foetal position, and you hug yourself hard. It’s the only solace you can give yourself. Everything hurts. From your face, your jaw, your arms, your whole body down to your heart and your soul. Oh, you hate yourself! For being so weak, so pathetic!

But most of all, you hate yourself for making him how he’d become. If only you’d been a better wife, if only you’d been able to make him happy. Good wives didn’t get hit. So maybe this pain was what you deserved.

If only you hadn’t lied about the car…

Oh, the car! The goddamned car! You wish to God you could turn back time. But what could you have even done differently?

You remember feeling a sense of dread the moment the car had stopped working. And it had increased tenfold when you’d taken your phone out to call Steve, only for there to be no signal. Of course, the car had decided to stop working in the middle of nowhere. It was less than ideal, since you had to get home and finish all your chores before Steve got home. Otherwise, he might get mad, and then…

“Hey there, you OK?”

The knock on your window makes you jump, and you find a man peering in at you, a friendly yet slightly concerned look on his face. Oh gosh, Steve would be so mad if I spoke to this man now, you think to yourself. And yet… there’s not much else you can do. Your car won’t start back up, and you don’t know the first thing about repairing it.

“H-Hey,” you roll your window down, trying not to look directly at the stranger’s tanned face. “I’m OK, thanks for asking. My, uh, my car isn’t though. I think. It won’t start up.”

The man nods, “Yeah, that’s why I came over. Saw you on the side of the road and knew you wouldn’t be parked here for no reason.” He pauses, listening to the hum of your engine with a thoughtful look on his face. “I think I recognise the sound. If I could get this car back to my auto-shop, I think I could fix it.”

“Really?” Hope fills your heart before reality comes crashing down. Steve wouldn’t like for you to be going into auto-shops with men you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to talk to any man unless Steve approved it. And you gulp, thinking how mad he’d be if he found out. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you think about the last time he’d gotten mad at you… No, you couldn’t go with this man, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“I, uh, I think I can get it to start back up myself. Thanks anyways though!” You say with false brightness. But after a few more failed attempts, you slump back against your seat in defeat, and the man chuckles.

“A valiant effort. But as I said, my shop’s only about a mile and a half down that way. And luckily, I’ve got my tow truck with me now. Let me help you, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

His face softens when he sees the hesitant look on your face, and he runs a hand through his unruly brown hair before fishing something out of his pocket. “Here’s my card, just so you know I’m legit. C’mon, let me help you. I couldn’t possibly leave a lady out here all on her own with a broken-down car that’s an easy fix.”

You bite your lip. His business card did look legit. And after another quick glance at your phone – still no signal – you nod and smile at the stranger. Maybe Steve would be proud of you for taking the initiative and getting yourself out of a sticky and potentially dangerous situation.

The ride to the man’s auto-repair shop is short enough. And he spends the next fifteen minutes fixing your car, all while you sit in the waiting room fretting and typing out texts to Steve that you’re too scared to send. You need to think of the perfect way to explain what had happened with the car, the most delicate explanation that wouldn’t result in him getting mad. Oh, you didn’t want him to get mad! Not when things had been going so well recently, and he hadn’t gotten mad in a long time, and you were starting to believe that he still loved you, and wasn’t annoyed by you all the time, and didn’t hate you, and–

“She’s almost fixed!” The man had announced cheerily, walking into the waiting room and shooting you a bright smile, one that had melted off his face the moment he’d seen the look of worry on your face. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” standing up and smoothening down your dress, you’d shot the man a puzzled look. “What do you mean, almost?”

“Almost as in I need an extra part to complete the fix, but it won’t come in until tomorrow.” The man runs a hand through his wavy brown hair that curls charmingly at the base of his neck. “But don’t worry, she’ll be back home in your driveway by noon tomorrow at the latest. I promise.”

“T-Tomorrow?” your blood runs cold, and it’s insane how your hands start shaking instantaneously. “But it can’t stay here overnight, my…my husband, he’ll find out, and then–”

“Husband?” The man repeats slowly before quickly gathering himself and taking a step back. “Well, ma’am, I’m sure he won’t mind about the car, so long as you’re alright. And don’t worry, I can give you a lift home.”

“N-No, you don’t understand, he…” you swallow harshly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second and clasping your hands to get them to stop shaking so violently, “N-No, he can’t know I was here, he can’t, he’ll…”

“Why don’t you let me speak to him,” the mechanic says slowly, pointing at your phone. “I’m sure I could explain the problem with the engine–”

Your eyes widen in pure fear, “NO! I mean, uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I just, oh God, I-I…” Suddenly, you can’t think straight. If Steve found out you were at this man’s auto-shop alone with him, that he’d spoken to you, that you’d spoken back to him… Oh no, Steve couldn’t find out. He’d get so mad, and he’d hurt you, and then everything would be awful for days.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” The guy has a look of serious concern painted on his face as he stands before you. He’s tall, tall just like Steve, and looks just as strong too. “I know it’s none of my business, but you look awfully scared.”

You force a laugh that comes out a tad too high-pitched, “I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just…”

“Let me give you a lift home,” the man says gently, taking a hesitant step closer to you. “I can speak to your husband, let him know it wasn’t your fault that your car broke down.”

“That’s not what he’d be angry about,” your eyes widen when you realise you’ve said too much. “I mean, he won’t be angry at all. Not at all. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

More than him, it seems like you’re trying to persuade yourself.

“I, uh, I’ll call myself a cab,” you say, but the man places his warm hand on your wrist to stop you, and the contact makes you jump. He’s so�� gentle. It’s a strange sensation. And then he just… looks at you. For a handful of seconds that feel like ages, he just looks at you with inquisitive blue eyes, as if he’s trying to read you, or at least trying to understand.

“Please, allow me,” finally, he tears his eyes away, and he’s got his phone out and he’s already dialling the number, “the reception here isn’t great, but my phone seems to work through it.”

It’s only later, when you’re getting into the cab, that he grabs your arm once more. Well, “grab” would be the wrong word. He gently placed his hand on your arm as if to stop you, and you hesitate, half distracted by the need to get home before Steve and come up with an excuse about the car, and half curious about what the mechanic has to say.

“You have my card,” he says slowly with significance, his voice lowering to a deep rumble. “Call me tomorrow about your car. Or,” he adds when you start closing the cab door, “if you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

He holds your gaze for a moment or two, a few wayward strands of his brown hair falling over his forehead before he pushes them back. You find yourself forgetting to breathe, before you quickly shake your head and force a smile before looking away.

“Thank you for your help.”

Now, you lie alone on your bed, on your side with your knees up to your chest, shielding yourself and your poor body from whatever lies ahead. You can feel the outline of the mechanic’s card in your dress pocket, and muster up the strength to take it out.

Should you call him? It’s not like you had anyone else. Your family lived miles and miles away on the other side of the country. Steve had moved you to a different state after the wedding, claiming the two of you needed a fresh new beginning to start your new life together. And so you’d left all your friends and family behind without a second thought, loyally following your husband into the sunset because you loved him and trusted him.

You’d made new friends now, but they were the wives of Steve’s friends, and you didn’t know if you could trust them. What if they took Steve’s side? What if they recognised that it was you who’d turned him so awful and mean? That it was you who was the rotten one, poisoning everything you touched because you couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t be a good wife?

You stare so hard at the card until your vision blurs, and then you stare some more. After a while, your thoughts just cease altogether, and you just lie there. Just wishing you didn’t exist. Wishing you were never alive to begin with, wishing you never felt the immense love in your heart that you still do for Steve. Wishing love never existed and neither did you. That you just disappeared into thin air one day and Steve could move on and be happy and be better for someone who made him better. Someone he genuinely loved and cared for and wanted to be better for.

Someone who so clearly wasn’t you.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Motionless. It’s different this time. In the past, after he’s left you like this, you’ve been able to get back up. Brush yourself off, make yourself pretty again and pretend it never happened. For the sake of both of you, just pretend it never happened.

You remember the first time he’d hit you. It was a month or so after your wedding, and Steve had taken you out to a work party of his. And you’d felt so relaxed, so pretty on the arm of your husband, wearing the dress he’d chosen for you, the jewellery he’d bought you. The diamond earrings sat pretty on your ears, a present from him that very night. He’d come up behind you while you’d sat at your vanity getting ready, and kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you, how you deserved all the prettiest things in life because you were the prettiest thing in his life.

You’d felt so at ease, being led around by Steve whilst you mingled and spoke with his work colleagues. But his good mood hadn’t lasted as the night had gone on, and halfway through the evening, you’d sensed him go silent next to you. Deathly silent. His grip around your waist had tightened to the point where it was almost uncomfortable, and his jaw was tight too. His lips set into a straight line.

He’d been just as silent on the drive back home, and it was only once the two of you were back in your bedroom, that he’d chose to speak.

“You were getting awfully comfortable with some of the men at the party,” he’d commented while you were undoing his tie.

You’d wrinkled your nose, “What?”

“Don’t say what. You know exactly what I mean.” His tone was cold, colder than you’d ever heard it. Soon, you’d grow used to the tell-tale signs that he was going into that dark, forlorn place he went to when he got like this. But back then, you didn’t really have an inkling.

“D-Did I do something to upset you, Stevie?” You’d asked hesitantly, not knowing what to make of his detached anger. You’d reached back to undo the zipper of your dress. Usually, he did it, but he wasn’t offering to do it then.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone had been so cutting that you’d physically flinched, and when he’d turned back around, his eyes were blazing accusatorily, “You were acting like a goddamned slut tonight, flirting with all those men.”

You remember the insult not even hitting you, because the absurdity of his statement had taken you so far off guard that instead, a giggle had escaped from your lips. An awkward giggle, like you had no idea what to say to such an absurd accusation.

“Do you find this funny?” You’d never forget the look he’d given you then, how he’d strode across the room, how big he’d looked, how scared you’d felt in that one second.

“No, Stevie, I was just–”

The strike had come out of nowhere. Like a clap of thunder, almost. You’d heard it before you’d even felt it. The slap that seemed to reverberate off the walls, except it was his palm against your cheek. The force of it had you reeling, and you’d lost your balance. Crashed against the wall with a thud before you’d fallen down.

You still remember how unreal it all had felt. Like an out of body experience, almost. Surreal. And the pain had bloomed instantly on the side of your face, and you’d looked up at him and he’d looked down at you, a horrified look on his face. He’d held his hand out in front of him, staring at it hard, and the darkness from his eyes had cleared.

Back in the present, and you can’t stop shaking. You feel numb, empty, and yet you can’t stop shaking. You try to think back to the old Steve, the good Steve. The sweet Stevie who was a little bit shy, and yet so charming and witty at the same time. So poetically in love that he’d made you fall for him, hook, line and sinker. The romantic Steve who’d whisked you off your feet and you’d happily followed him into the sunset without a second glance backwards.

Steve. The love of your life.

You just wish he still loved you back.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Seconds, minutes, hours, they don’t mean a thing. Not when this was to be your reality for the rest of your life. Again, you feel the charming mechanic’s card in your hand, but now you can’t even muster up the energy to hold it up.

It’s the dead of the night when he finally comes back. You haven’t moved an inch, but the sound of the front door shutting and the footsteps thudding up the stairs has alarm bells going off in your head.

No, no, no. No more hitting, no more pain. You couldn’t take another slap, you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t! In fight or flight mode, you heave yourself up, shaking with fear. The only place you can think of to hide is under the bed. And maybe he wouldn’t care to look for you, maybe he’d stay in the guest room, maybe he’d just leave you alone.

But you see Steve’s shoes as he enters your shared bedroom, and you find that you’re holding your breath. Slowly, he steps inside, and you hear him call out your name quietly. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to be transported away. Far, far away where nothing cruel could reach you, and you could be happy all the time and not have to feel any pain, not ever, ever, ever!

It’s when his fingers wrap around your ankle that you start crying again. But no sound comes out, perhaps because you’re in shock. Or maybe because you’re just too scared. Rigid, frozen in complete fear, you’re limp as he pulls you out from under the bed.

“Oh God,” he whispers as the stark white orange light of the bedroom hits you. “Oh…Oh God… I…” his voice catches, his blue eyes clear and alert, blinking several times as he takes you in. Your poor, quivering body, and haunted, dead eyes that look anywhere except at him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he hoists you up into his lap gently as he sits on the cold floor, a mix of shock and regret on his face as he repeatedly shakes his head, surveying your face, your arms, your shoulders, your stomach, “Baby, I… Oh God, I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t…”

You find the tiny speck on the wall once more, and you fix your gaze upon it until it blurs. You're so numb, so far away, and you barely feel his hand as he gingerly touches the bruises and marks he’s left on you. Some old ones, some new. Some that had yet to turn dark and noticeable, some half covered in makeup from before.

Carefully, Steve strokes your face, the same side he’d slapped repeatedly only a few hours before. But the gentleness doesn’t register to you. Nothing does. You stare at the speck even harder, wondering if it was always there.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, his tone hushed, regretful. Filled with anguish. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I… I got angry, I shouldn’t have got angry but I just…” his voice trails off as he stares hard at his own hand. As if he can’t believe he’s done this, as if he can’t believe that his own hand was capable of doing so much damage.

The speck on the wall seems to get bigger. You wish to God it would swallow you up whole.

“I swear I won’t do it again; I won’t ever hurt you like this again, I swear on my life,” Steve holds you up against his chest, cradles you like you’re a baby. And it feels so alien, to be handled so delicately. He hugs you close, burying his face in your shoulder, and that’s when you hear his voice break, “I won’t do it again, you have my word I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so fucking sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

I won’t do it again. You’d heard that before. That’s what he’d said the first time he’d hit you. That’s what he said after every time. The speck grows blurry.

“Baby, please say something,” he stops hugging you, but still holds you in his lap, his strong arms around you in a way that should make you feel safe but right now you just feel nothing. His voice is thick, “I swear on everything, I won’t lay a hand on you again. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know why I get like that. Everything goes black, and it’s like I can’t think straight and then by the time I can, it’s too late. But I swear I’ll get better, I swear on my life this won’t happen again, baby, just please. Please say something.”

If you painted over the speck, would it still be there? Would it disappear entirely, or would the paint chip off after enough time had passed, and reveal the ugliness once more?

“I’ll go to anger management, therapy, you name it,” he shakes you gently, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “I want to get better for you, be better for you. I know I’m not a good man, baby, I know you deserve better and I’ll do anything. I swear, this is the last time I hurt you, okay? Please, just believe me, okay? Just say something.”

Steve stands up with you in his arms, your limbs falling limply down by your sides, your head lolling down too. Almost like you’re not real, like you’re a doll who was alive for a little while but you’re not anymore. You certainly don’t feel alive. You don’t feel anything. Just numbness.

Tenderly, he lays you down on the bed. The same bed he’d roughly thrown you down and violated you on just a few hours earlier. And a part of you, a tiny part of you from the deepest recesses of your mind, wants to muster up the courage to look into his eyes. To search for the man you love, to see if he’s still there. But the dark numbness eats you from the inside out, and so you just stare blankly at your speck on the wall.

“I promise I’ll change,” Steve repeats, the desperation now evident in his tone as he clutches your face, wills you to look at him. “Please, just listen to me. Believe me when I say I’ll change. Wh-When we… when we have our little girl, I’ll change. I’ll be a good husband and a good dad, make both of you happy. I won’t ever get like this again, I can promise you that now, alright? That’s a promise I’m making to you right now.”

A child? Would he hurt it too? Would he grow to hate it too, simply because it would be yours?

He grabs your hand, and his is so warm. Or is yours the one that’s freezing cold? It had been cold under the bed, but you’d liked it. Feeling cold was a different kind of pain, one that distracted you from the pain he’d caused you.

He kisses you desperately, all over your face as if trying to get you to say something back to him. Instead, you notice another speck on the ceiling above the closet. How many were there? Were they secretly laughing at you? Mocking you for staying so long in a speck-filled house?

“Baby?” Steve’s eyes glisten, his face so ghastly pale as he grabs your hand and presses more desperate kisses on it, “Baby, please say something. Say you forgive me. I-I don’t know why I do it, okay? I just, I’m so fucking terrified of someone taking you away from me. Taking away the one person, the only person, in my whole fucking life who means everything to me. I couldn’t stand it, I thought he’d take you away from me, and I just saw red, and I’m so sorry. I hate myself for doing this to you, baby. I’m so sorry, please say something!”

But you can’t! How can you, when it doesn’t even feel like you’re real anymore?

The specks are all around you now, growing larger and larger. You can hear Steve apologising over and over again, hugging you close as he begs for your forgiveness. But you’re too far away, so far away that you can barely hear him anymore. Lightyears away, in your own universe where you’re brave and confident and nobody ever messes with you. Nobody ever hurts you. And you take care of yourself, and it’s enough.

You find yourself hurtling through windows of time, entering one before flitting into the next as the specks grow so large it feels like they’re consuming you. You find yourself observing your birthday last year, when you’d baked your own cake and Steve had spent hours decorating it for you. Using your favourite-coloured frosting, and of course you’d gotten some on your face. He’d kissed it off for you, and told you that you were adorable.

Now you’re on Steve’s roof, the night he’d told you about his big promotion at work. You’d yelped in excitement, hugged him so hard it had hurt – but the good kind of hurt. And he’d had those stars in his eyes as he’d held you. “You’re my best friend, you know?” he’d said, “Every time anything good happens, you’re the first person I look for in the room to tell.”

Memory after memory, one cherished moment after another. And you’re so possessive of these moments, like you want to lock them up in a jar and keep them safe forever. Not let them get tainted like how he’d gotten tainted. Because of you, of course.

Maybe I’ll stay here, you think as the specks continue to consume you. It’s safe here. I’m happy here. He’s happy too. Maybe I’ll stay forever...

But something's stopping the specks from swallowing you up and taking you away. Taking you far, far away where Steve couldn't hurt you anymore, the place where there was only love and never hate. But something's stopping you, pulling you back like gravity that you simply couldn't defy. A stranger's voice, warm and sweet like honey, cutting through the freezing cold numbness.

“If you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

You feel the card clutched tightly in your hand; the hand Steve isn’t holding on to. And it pulls you back, back, back to reality. Another memory, but this time it’s a stranger with blue eyes and a friendly smile.

The specks slowly start to disappear, and you find yourself back in your bedroom. Back in Steve’s arms. Back in his warm embrace, except it does nothing to stop you from feeling so numbingly cold.

“I love you,” Steve whispers, “I love you so much, I’d die if I lost you. Please forgive me, baby. Come back to me. I won’t ever hurt you again.”

He lifts you up and hugs you once more, holding on to you so tightly as if his life depends on it. Strokes your hair and whispers sweetly in your ear, says all the words of regret that you've heard before. But you lie motionless in his arms like a broken doll, your poor cheek resting limply on his shoulder.

And it’s over Steve’s shoulder that you look down at the card in your hand, and read the man’s name, along with his number. And suddenly, a coolness washes over you.

Your finger twitches. You take a deep breath.

“Baby?” Steve draws back till you’re both face to face once more, and his eyes have those stars in them again, the stars you'd fallen in love with, the stars you'd wanted back so bad that you'd let it get this far. He cups your face, and presses his forehead against yours.

“You forgive me, don't you?"

THE END.

Okay so. That was a lot. It was a lot to write. If you're still here, then thank you for sticking around till the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope you found the story that I was trying to tell compelling. Please do let me know what you thought. What do you think reader will do now? What do you WANT her to do now? Who was the stranger? Why is Steve the way he is? IDK. Any raw thoughts and feedback would be incredible as always. Thanks so much for baring with me while I tried to post this fic. One last thing - this is a work of complete fiction. Thank you <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #tw dv #tw dv mention

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darkbluekies · 6 months ago

Text

In the dungeon

yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days

Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,

Word count: 1.1k

He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.

You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.

Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.

“Oh, my love …”

You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.

You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.

“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”

As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.

“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”

Edmund shakes his head carefully.

“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”

He wipes one of your tears apologetically.

“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.

He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.

“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”

But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.

He looks behind you, around the cell.

“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”

He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.

“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.

“I like it”, you reply.

“Alright, alright.”

Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.

“Tasty?” Edmund asks.

You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.

“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”

Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.

Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.

“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”

“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”

“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”

“I'm sorry, Edmund.”

Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.

“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”

You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.

“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”

You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?

Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”

“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”

“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”

He thinks for a second. “Okay.”

You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.

When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere king #yandere x female reader #female reader #yandere oneshot #yandere royal

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foldingfittedsheets · 6 months ago

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I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.

Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.

I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.

The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.

My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.

But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.

Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.

I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.

The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.

I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.

This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”

I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.

Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”

Terms were agreed.

The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.

“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”

Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”

“I have never been more serious.”

“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”

“No. You promised.”

With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.

I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.

#ramblies #ffs foibles #writing #funny #story #dishes #dirty dishes

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aakeysmash · 4 months ago

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college!sukuna needs the house and you want a smoothie

college!sukuna masterlist

"yo, i need the house on saturday," grunts sukuna, freshly woken up, coming inside the kitchen. his hair is all ruffled, just like his sweatpants and his black t-shirt.

"what for?" you hum, seated at the kitchen table, drumming your pencil on the smooth surface. you were just starting to do your homework, but you could use a break.

"blind boy and girl boy wanna have a friends gathering, or whatever the fuck they called it," he croaks out, opening the fridge and taking big gulps of the cold water bottle inside of it.

"who?" you ask, confused, turning off your headphones. he rolls his eyes.

"satoru and suguru," he responds, deadpan, opening a bunch of cabinets and throwing fruits in the blender.

"i have someone over on saturday, but you can have the living room." there's a pregnant pause in the room. nobody moves for 3 long seconds. "hey, can i have some of that smoothie?" you ask him, breaking the icy atmosphere, pointing at the light green mixture he has in front of him.

he raises one eyebrow, rubbing his eye with his fist. like a big, massive toddler.

"no. make your own one," he yawns, plopping down in front of you. you frown. asshole.

"but i'm lazy. what if i die from hunger?" you whine.

"can't help you with that," he shrugs, taking a sip of his drink.

"please?" you try, doing your best puppy eyes.

"i said no, woman," he sighs, putting one of his hands under his chin, looking over at your discarded sheets of paper all over the table before slowly raising his gaze to your eyes. "who's the fuck buddy, by the way?" he says roughly, trying not to make his eyelid tic. Another man inside his walls. Inside your walls, too. Fantastic.

"none of your business. i don't talk with bitches who don't share their food," you grumble, jutting your bottom lip out, wearing your headphones again. he flips you off.

"tell me who is it," he tries to pry. you ignore him, whistling the song you're currently listening to. he growls your name, trying to get your attention, but he doesn't get any reactions out of you.

"hellooo," comes yuuji's voice from the door. you raise your head, bypassing the currently scowling bulging creature in front of you, and smile softly at the kid, waving your hand. his little feet do a light pit pat on the ground when he walks.

"hey, 'kuna, can i have some of your smoothie?" asks excitedly the child, coming near you two.

sukuna huffs. "no. learn how to fend for yourself. there are brats your age who have children of their own," he grits out, glaring at him, then turning his mean gaze toward you. yuuji cries out your name, trying to get you on his side.

"yuu, your brother is mean. let's go live somewhere else, just me and you," you coo to your youngest roommate, receiving a decisive nod, opening your arms to let him hug you. his brother scoffs.

"can we visit him sometimes, though?" timidly says the kid from beneath your head, wrapping his short arms around your middle.

"nah. go on, you two can finally get the fuck out of my way. i'm never opening the door for you again," smirks sukuna, getting up to wash his glass, now empty.

"mean!" you both scream in unison, turning around to see that he has his back turned toward you.

he just chuckles, grabbing more fruit to put in the blender. he has two mouths to feed, apparently.

#college au #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk fics #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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tsuutarr · 2 months ago

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Demon Delinquents x Human! Reader

Here's my gift for @ozzgin (who organized the secret santa event, tysm)!!

Content is about 1K words about you and your new delinquent demon besties <3

You, a human, somehow ended up in a school filled with demons. Though, you’re surprised to see that everything is rather… normal? Despite your peers and teachers sporting horns and other demon-like features, your demon school really seems like every other school.

You’re introduced to your classmates who politely clap, before you’re ushered to your new seat. All normal stuff, really, except that you’re seated at the very back in between what looks to be two delinquent demons. And, just your luck, you seem to have caught their eye. They could probably drill a hole through your skull with how much they’re looking at you.

So it’s really no surprise when you’re called out to the back of the school when class is over. You’re trembling as the demons loom over you, sharp teeth glinting underneath the sun.

“You’re gonna be our hench human,” the demon with red skin cackles, smile wide. You’re pretty sure he could bite your head off.

“And you’re gonna like it,” the demon with yellow skin adds, his frown showing off all his sharp teeth.

You’re too scared to say anything, but they take your silence as agreement.

“Good!” the red demon guffaws, pointing to himself. “Name’s Rex.” He points to the yellow demon beside him. “This guy’s Lem.”

Lem juts his chin out at you. “‘Sup?”

You’re really not sure how to react, making the three of you just stare at each other.

Finally, Rex raises an eyebrow. “Yer name?”

“Oh,” you say, blinking, before stuttering out your name. Rex and Lem look pleased.

“A’ight, great.” Slinging an arm over your shoulder, Rex begins to maneuver you as he begins walking, Lem following behind closely. “First order of business…”

You’re going to die. You’re convinced of it. Why else would they be dragging you with them?!

Surprisingly, however, you find yourself in the cafeteria. Somehow, you expected demons to be more rowdy, but everyone seems to be minding their own business. Even Rex and Lem are standing in line, waiting for their turn despite being delinquents.

You’re not left too much time to ponder, however, since it’s soon your turn to order. You’re certain they’re going to make you buy their lunch, but they… don’t? They pay for their own food, before dragging you away again until you’re on the rooftop.

“Here,” Rex says, tossing you a sandwich. “A good hench human’s gotta be strong.”

“And ya only get strong by eatin’,” Lem adds, shoving a whole melon bun in his mouth.

You blink, sandwich in your hand, as Rex and Lem dig into their lunches.

Rex looks to you, before swallowing down his food. “What? Ya not hungry? Or d’you not like sandwiches?”

“Uh, no, just…” you purse your lips. “I guess I didn’t expect you to buy me lunch?”

“Tsk, tsk,” Rex says, wiping some mustard off of his bottom lip. “You’re our hench human now, ‘course we gotta feed ya. We can’t have a weakling followin’ us around.”

Lem nods in agreement.

“Uh, right.” You nod with a stiff smile. “Thanks.”

With a loud laugh, Rex rips open a bag of chips. “‘Course, hench human! Let us know if you’re still hungry, got it?”

“...Got it,” you agree, before digging into your own sandwich. It’s actually kind of good.

Since that point onwards, you continue to hang out with Rex and Lem. Contrary to their appearance, Rex and Lem are good students, always on time to class (and thus making sure you’re on time too). They’re not… really delinquent like, truthfully.

In fact, one time, you thought they were smoking, but they were just eating lollipops. Another time, you thought they were drinking beer, but it was just apple juice. Frankly speaking, they baffle you – other than their appearance, they don’t really… do anything delinquent-like. But they’re also convinced that they are doing something delinquent like.

“We’re showin’ up to class ‘cause we’re asserting our dominance,” Rex had explained when you asked why he wasn’t skipping class.

Lem nodded sagely in agreement. “The class is all scared of us, y’see? We gotta show ‘em who’s boss.”

When you asked them about the lollipops and apple juice, Rex said, “It’s ‘cause lollipops and apple juice have a lotta sugar. They’re super dangerous, which is why we’re usin’ ‘em. We’re strong like that.”

“Yeah, we’re cool like that,” Lem agrees.

You honestly don’t really get their logic, but… they’re not bad to hang out with. They take you on bicycle rides (not motorbikes, though, since Lem is scared of them). They walk you home because, according to Rex, “No one’s gonna hurt our hench human!”

They’re strange guys, but they’re kind of fun in an endearing sort of way, maybe. You don’t really mind hanging out with them. Plus, they always buy you lunch. It’s nice eating with them on the rooftop.

“Man, I can’t believe midterms are comin’ up,” Rex groans, looking displeased as he tosses a chip into his mouth. “Gotta study.”

“You guys are studying for midterms?” you ask, making Rex and Lem nod solemnly.

“We hafta. How else are we gonna show the rest of them how scary we are?” Lem inquires, crossing his arms as he chews on his lollipop. “We gotta show ‘em that we’re the strongest.”

“Don’t worry,” Rex says, slapping your back with a grin. “Ya got us, yeah? We’ll make sure that no one can mess with ya. Lem and I are top five in the whole school – we can teach ya, no worries.”

You blink slowly, processing the information. They actually study despite being delinquents to the point that they’re top five in the entire school? Huh?! How does that make sense?

But as you watch them eagerly discuss how they’ll make study guides for you to help you study, you can’t help but let your incredulousness go.

Because, yeah, they’re not traditional delinquents… but they’re doing their best and they care about you a ton, so maybe that’s what really matters in the end.

Maybe.

#tsuuper ocs #Rex and Lem Tsuu OC #demon oc #monster boyfriend #demon x reader #demon oc x reader #delinquent demons #idk how to describe them other than dumbasses lmao #they're doing their best tho!!!

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gyuuberryy · 8 months ago

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teeth

“let's play together, you make me so thirsty”

pairing: vampire!heeseung x reader

synopsis: you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy.

genre: enemies to lovers, vampire au

warnings: lots of suggestive content!!(read at your own discretion), blood, alcohol, getting trapped in a lift, making out, teeth and biting(obviously)

note: this is like my first time writing something suggestive so i was a little nervous, but i think it turned out well! there's no smut tho. teeth is such a freaky song teehee, i hope this gives off the same vibes. listen to the song while reading this, enjoy!

word count: 5.2k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

fairy lights strung across the hallway cast a warm glow on the gaggle of your neighbours crammed into the shared corridor. plates heaped with enough food to feed a small army overflowed from a makeshift table, the air thick with the aroma of baked ziti and something suspiciously like burnt brownies.

it was the monthly floor potluck, a supposed chance for neighbourly bonding. you, however, stood alone by the shoe rack, arms crossed and a scowl firmly in place.

the source of your discontent? lee heeseung, the new resident in 3B. he'd moved in a week ago, and in that short time, had managed to charm the socks off everyone else. mrs. kim from 3A gushed about his "angelic smile," mr. lee from across the hall swore he'd single-handedly fixed the perpetually leaky faucet, and even the ever-grumpy mrs. park from 2B had softened to his "polite demeanour." you, however, weren't buying it.

there was something… off about him. he was a little too pale, a little too perfect. the way his eyes seemed to glint in the fairy lights sent shivers down your spine, not the good kind. maybe it was the way he never seemed to eat anything, politely declining every dish offered with a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. or maybe it was just a gut feeling, a primal instinct screaming that there was more to heeseung than met the eye.

as you nursed your lukewarm coffee, heeseung materialised beside you, a plate piled high with (uneaten) pasta in his hand. his smile, as always, was dazzling.

"hey there! i'm heeseung, from 3b. i’ve been meaning to meet you for a while! everyone's been raving about you."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "is that right?"

he chuckled, a sound a little too melodious. "absolutely! they say you make the best chocolate chip cookies on the floor." he gestured to the burnt offering on the table. "though, these brownies look like they could use some work."

a sarcastic snort escaped your lips. "they're mrs. park's. apparently, baking isn't her forte."

heeseung's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he recovered. "well, maybe next time you could bring your famous cookies," he suggested, his voice smooth as silk.

you raised an eyebrow, suspicion solidifying in your gut. "maybe i will," you said, your voice devoid of warmth.

heeseung seemed to hesitate, the air crackling with a strange tension. then, with another dazzling smile, he excused himself and moved on to mrs. kim, who was already gushing about his "nonexistent" culinary skills.

you watched him go, a cold dread settling in your stomach. he might be fooling everyone else, but you wouldn't be swayed by his facade. there was something about heeseung, something dark and unsettling, and you were determined to find out what it was.

weeks bled into months, and your suspicions about heeseung only intensified. he'd become the bane of your existence, a charming yet infuriating shadow that seemed to follow you around the building. every potluck, every hallway encounter was a constant push and pull between your icy suspicion and his playful facade.

he revelled in teasing you, his compliments bordering on flirtatious. "looking lovely today, aren’t you?" he'd purr, his eyes gleaming with an amusement that sent shivers down your spine. you'd counter with sarcastic remarks that usually sailed right over his head, leaving you more frustrated than ever.

one particularly rainy afternoon, you were rushing down the hallway, arms laden with groceries, when the treacherous floor betrayed you. your foot slipped, and you went sprawling towards the cold tile. but before you could hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you upright with surprising ease.

for a moment, you were trapped in heeseung's embrace. your ear was pressed against his chest, and a jolt of fear shot through you. there was no comforting thud of a heartbeat, just a chilling silence. his touch was icy cold, sending a wave of goosebumps erupting across your skin.

you scrambled away from him, a mixture of terror and anger twisting your features. "don't touch me!" you hissed, dropping a bag of groceries with a clatter.

heeseung straightened, his smile unwavering. "whoa there. just trying to be a good neighbour."

you glared at him, your voice trembling. "there's nothing neighbourly about you, heeseung. what are you?"

his smile faltered for a flicker of a second, a flicker you caught this time. but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual charming facade. "just a guy who likes to help out a damsel in distress," he said, his voice laced with amusement.

but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. they held a glint of something predatory, something that confirmed your worst fears. he wasn't normal. and whatever he was, it was becoming increasingly clear that he was toying with you.

you grabbed the remaining grocery bags, clutching them tightly to your chest as if they were a shield. "don't think this is over, heeseung," you hissed, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "i'll find out who you are, and i'll expose you."

he tilted his head, a playful glint back in his eyes. "is that a challenge, darling?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "be careful what you wish for. you might just find out more than you bargained for."

with that cryptic message hanging in the air, he turned and sauntered back to his apartment, leaving you alone in the hallway, the weight of his words and the chilling memory of his touch settling over you like a shroud. you were determined to unravel the mystery of heeseung, but a new, terrifying question gnawed at you: were you prepared for what you might find?

sleep evaded you that night. the unsettling encounter with heeseung replayed on a loop in your mind. you tossed and turned, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of rain against your window. finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, you crept out of bed and tiptoed towards the door, hoping to get some fresh air.

just as you were about to unlock the door the ‘ding’ of the elevator’s arrival stopped you in your tracks. who could it be this late at night?

peeking through the peephole, you were met with a sight that sent a fresh wave of terror coursing through you. heeseung stood casually a few feet away from your door, the rain slicking his dark hair back from his forehead.

he was whistling a cheerful tune, completely oblivious to your scrutiny. but what truly sent shivers down your spine was the state of his hands. they were stained with something dark and viscous, drying in the cool night air. it looked… suspiciously like blood.

the blood ran cold in your veins. just as you were about to pull back, heeseung paused, his head tilting ever so slightly as if he could sense you watching. a slow, unnerving smirk spread across his face, his eyes seeming to lock with yours through the peephole. how? it was impossible.

panic clawed at you. you stumbled back, adrenaline flooding your system. you had to warn the others. heeseung couldn't be trusted.

the next day, you stormed into mrs. kim's apartment, her usual cheery demeanour replaced by a frantic urgency. you blurted out everything – the coldness, the lack of a heartbeat, and the bloodstains you witnessed the night before.

mrs. kim, however, listened with a furrowed brow. "blood? are you sure, dear? heeseung wouldn't hurt a fly."

heeseung, conveniently appearing in the midst of your outburst, played the part of the concerned neighbour perfectly.

"is everything alright here?" he asked, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "seems a little tense."

mrs. kim just dismissed him, shaking her head with a small chuckle, “nothing dear, it’s not important.”

his smile was disarming, his eyes brimming with feigned innocence. "oh i see. what were you two talking about so intently then?"

you glared at him, your voice trembling with barely contained anger. "i was just telling mrs. kim about your… unusual habits." you recounted the previous night's events, your gaze flitting between mrs. kim and heeseung.

heeseung chuckled, a light, airy sound that sent shivers down your spine. immediately, his expression morphed into one of concern, looking at mrs kim. "hasn’t she been acting strangely lately? maybe a little… stressed?"

his words stung. he was twisting the narrative, making you seem paranoid and delusional. your frustration grew, your voice rising as you tried to explain what you saw, but your neighbour's eyes held only pity and dismissal.

mrs. kim patted your hand soothingly. "maybe you're just a little stressed, dear. heeseung's a good boy, always looking out for everyone. don't you worry about him."

shame burned in your cheeks. you were alone, your warnings falling on deaf ears. heeseung's smile widened, the glint in his eyes predatory.

"see?" he said, his voice low and menacing, but directed only at you. "sometimes, silence is the best policy."

with that, he turned and sauntered away, leaving you trapped in a nightmare you couldn't seem to wake up from.

back in your apartment, you sank onto the couch, a defeated sigh escaping your lips. you were alone, your suspicions dismissed as paranoia. but the image of heeseung's bloodstained hands, his chilling smirk, burned into your memory. you wouldn't give up. you had to find a way to expose him, to prove to everyone that the perfect neighbour was nothing but a monster in disguise.

the bass vibrated through the floor, the air thick with sweat and the sweet scent of spilled cocktails. you were lost in the music, laughing with your friends, a rare moment of reprieve from the constant worry that was heeseung. the tipsy buzz from the vodka-cranberries only amplified the carefree feeling, pushing his unsettling presence to the back of your mind.

tipsy from a few too many drinks, you excused yourself, needing a momentary escape from the pulsating heat of the dance floor of the club. the cool night air was a welcome change as you stepped into the balcony, the cityscape shimmering under the neon glow. a sudden prickle ran down your spine, making you stop mid-step. it was the distinct feeling of someone's gaze boring into you, a predator sizing up its prey.

your heart hammered against your ribs as you spun around, searching the crowd. there, leaning against the wall opposite the club entrance, stood heeseung. his perfect features were cast in shadow, but the glint of his eyes in the darkness sent a shiver down your spine. he held a drink in his hand, his knuckles white around the glass, as if tightening his grip to control himself.

the moment you locked eyes with him, the air crackled with a tension so thick you could almost taste it. it wasn't just fear this time. there was a strange undercurrent, a dark energy that seemed to emanate from him.

your mind, fuzzy from the alcohol, couldn't quite grasp it, but your body reacted instinctively. panic surged through you, erasing the tipsy haze. this wasn't the charming neighbour; this was the dangerous entity you'd glimpsed before.

you didn't waste a second. turning on your heel, you practically sprinted back into the club, weaving through the crowd. your breath came out in ragged gasps, fueled by a cocktail of fear and the alcohol throbbing in your veins.

with a desperate lunge, you pushed open the nearest door, the sign above it proclaiming it a restroom.

just as you fumbled for the lock, a strong hand shot past your shoulder, wedging itself between the door and the frame. you froze, staring in horror as heeseung casually pushed his way in behind you. he slammed the door shut with a sickening thud, the lock clicking ominously behind him.

he cornered you against the door, his body acting as a wall and a scent that was both familiar and strangely intoxicating. the air crackled with unspoken tension, thick with the remnants of your fear and an undeniable spark of…something else.

“what do you think you’re doing?”, you winced at how weak your voice sounded.

he leaned impossibly close, his breath chilly against your ear. he seemed to be tipsy as well, with the way he stumbled and invaded your personal space.

the alcohol loosened your inhibitions, and his voice, usually smooth and playful, now had a dark, alluring edge to it.

"you looked beautiful dancing under those lights," he whispered, his words sending shivers down your spine. "such a shame you seem to hate me so."

his nearness was overwhelming. you couldn't feel any heat radiating from his body, but the way his lips brushed against your ear sent a jolt through you. his voice, usually smooth as silk, now had a rough edge, sending a shiver down your spine that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

your mind, fuzzy from the alcohol, struggled to process the situation. he was terrifying, yes, but a strange, confusing attraction warred with the fear simmering beneath the surface.

your gaze latched onto the physical beauty in front of you - the sharp angles of his jaw, the way the moonlight glinted off his dark brown eyes. all the warnings you'd tried to ignore hammered against your intoxicated mind, but for some reason, they held no power in the face of the undeniable magnetism of the man pinning you to the door.

“what do you want from me”, your words came out in a hushed whisper, scared as if speaking any louder would ruin the moment.

his gaze flitted down to your lips as he got closer to you, now only a breath away. he leaned closer, the scent of something foreign, yet oddly alluring, invading your senses.

his gaze dropped to your lips, painted a soft pink from the drinks you'd consumed.

before you could register the movement, his lips were on yours. the kiss was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – the initial shock giving way to a surge of heat that defied logic. his hand slid down your back, pressing you flush against the wooden door.you clung to him, a confused mix of fear and a thrilling sense of forbidden desire coursing through you.

the kiss deepened, becoming desperate, hungry. he tasted of something sweet and metallic, a strange anomaly that sent a jolt through your system. you ignored it, caught up in the intoxicating whirlwind.

his body was freezing cold, save for his lips, his skin a contrast against the heat from your body which made a wave of concern rise up in the back of your head. but it was all forgotten as his hand moved to your neck, his fingers trailing a chilly path before dipping behind your ear.

you gasped at the sudden feeling, and heeseung took the opportunity to let his tongue enter your mouth. the kiss got messier and hotter, as if he was trying to devour you whole.

he rained kisses down your jawline, each one a searing brand against your skin. his touch sent shivers of anticipation down your spine, your breath hitching as you felt his teeth graze a sensitive spot.

it wasn't a bite, not yet. it was a brush, a feather-light caress that sent a jolt through your system. but it wasn't just the touch. there was something… different about his canines. they were sharper, pointier than human teeth, and the sensation sent a wave of surprise through you.

he froze, the movement of his mouth stopping abruptly. his breath hitched in his throat, coming out in ragged gasps like a predator startled mid-hunt. his eyes, locked on your neck, flickered with a mix of hunger and… something else. a flicker of remorse, a struggle you couldn't quite decipher.

the tension in the room was suffocating. you stared back at him, your mind a tangled mess of confusion and desire. but before you could form a question, before you could understand the shift in him, heeseung pulled away. his grip on your neck loosened, replaced by a cold indifference.

his eyes, once filled with a dark desire, now held a chilling emptiness. the warmth of his body vanished as he stepped back, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. he stared at you for a long, agonising moment, his eyes unreadable.

then, in a swift movement, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, leaving you pressed against the door, the memory of the heated kiss a stark contrast to the cold dread settling in your stomach.

the heat of the kiss still lingered on your lips, a confusing memory tainted by the chilling realisation of what he truly was. you cradled your neck, the phantom sensation of his sharp touch lingering long after he was gone.

days bled into a strange silence. the unsettling encounters with heeseung, once a daily occurrence, had vanished. you wouldn't normally miss his presence, but the sudden absence gnawed at you with an unsettling curiosity. you found yourself glancing down the hallway at his door more often than you cared to admit, the memory of the stolen kiss replaying in your mind in a confusing loop.

the thought of venturing to his apartment, of seeking him out after the charged encounter in the washroom, sent a jolt of nervous energy through you.

shame burned in your cheeks at the memory of the heated kiss, a stark contrast to the chilling way he'd left you. yet, a sliver of concern gnawed at you. his absence was unnerving.

finally, curiosity, laced with apprehension, won over your better judgement. you stood outside his door, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. taking a deep breath, you raised your hand and knocked tentatively.

the silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before the door creaked open a sliver. heeseung stood there, his face pale and drawn, dark circles smudging the area under his eyes. he looked… unwell.

"heeseung?" you ventured, surprised by the concern that slipped into your voice. "are you alright? you look terrible."

he didn't answer, just stared at you with an icy indifference that sent a shiver down your spine. the playful glint in his eyes, once so unsettling, was replaced by a hollowness that chilled you to the bone.

heeseung scoffed, a harsh sound that scraped against your nerves. "i'm fine. now leave."

the hostility in his voice stung. the concern you felt evaporated, replaced by a cold anger.

"look," you snapped, "i just came to see if you were okay. but clearly, you don't want the help."

he scoffed, a humourless sound. "of course not. why would i need help from the likes of you?"

he slammed the door shut before you could retort, leaving you standing alone in the hallway, the echo of his harsh words ringing in your ears. shame burned in your cheeks, a confusing mix of hurt and anger churning in your gut.

how dare he act like you were the villain? he was the one who made your life a living nightmare, the one with secrets that sent shivers down your spine.

scowling, you berated yourself for your momentary lapse in judgement. you hated him. you had to.

he was a danger, a monster in disguise. yet, the flicker of something vulnerable you'd glimpsed in his eyes, the way he'd pulled away so abruptly… it was a confusing puzzle you couldn't seem to solve.

heeseung stumbled out of his apartment, a desperate lurch in his gait that spoke volumes of his weakened state. he fumbled with grabbing his keys, nearly dropping them, before finally unlocking the deadbolt.

he needed to get out, anywhere but the suffocating confines of his apartment. he threw a glance down the hallway, hoping for an empty elevator, but his luck had run dry. the red "in use" light mocked him above the metal doors.

he slammed on the button, urgency pushing past the haze in his head. as the doors dinged open, revealing you standing there, his heart sank.

heeseung flinched back, shuffling into the corner like a wounded animal. "get… out," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

"seriously?" you scoffed, following him with your glare. "that makeout session in the club must have been rough if you can't even stand the sight of me now."

heeseung remained silent, the effort of breathing stealing his focus. you rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath about his lack of manners. you turned away, choosing to ignore him.

suddenly, the elevator lurched to a halt, plunging the cramped space into slight darkness. a metallic groan filled the air.

"great," you sighed, reaching for the call button. "looks like we're stuck."

a strained voice answered through the speaker, informing you that a technician would be on their way shortly.

"shortly?" you groaned. "how long is shortly?"

"it's hard to say, ma'am. there's been a minor fault in the system."

you groaned, sinking down onto the floor.

heeseung remained silent, his body trembling. every passing second felt like an eternity. hunger gnawed at him, a primal urge clawing its way to the surface. he gritted his teeth, fighting against the monstrous transformation that threatened to take over.

"hey," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

you shot him a sceptical glance. "what?"

shame burned in his throat, but the need for survival outweighed his pride. "do you… by any chance… have any blood on you?"

you leaned closer, your suspicions finally confirmed.

"about time you admitted it," you cheered, a triumphant smirk creeping across your face. "i knew you weren't normal."

heeseung let out a dark chuckle, a sound devoid of humour. "don't get too excited," he rasped. "you shouldn't be so happy about this."

"oh, come on," you scoffed. "spill it. what are you? some kind of freak?"

a tense silence followed, broken only by the hum of the faulty elevator. finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"vampire."

shock flooded your system. it was one thing to suspect, another to hear it confirmed.

"no way," you scoffed, refusing to believe it. "vampires don't exist."

but his next words sent a shiver down your spine. "the reason i stopped you at the club… it wasn't because of the kiss. it was the smell of your blood. it was… intoxicating."

"ever since i've met you…" he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the edge of desperation in it. "the smell of your blood, so sweet, has been driving me crazy. so different from anything i've ever encountered."

he paused, a tremor running through his voice. "for years, i've resisted feeding on humans. morality, you might call it. i rely on animal blood, a poor substitute at best. but your blood…" he took a shaky breath, "it was like a siren song. after that night, i can’t even smell any other type of blood without my stomach churning in disgust."

you listened intently, a strange fascination battling with the fear that coiled in your gut. this wasn't the heeseung you knew, the playful neighbor who reveled in teasing you. this was a creature raw and exposed, driven by a primal need he could barely articulate.

"years," he continued, his voice cracking slightly. "years of animal blood, a constant reminder of what i can't have. but then you…" he trailed off, the echo of that night in the club hanging heavy between you.

a shiver ran down your spine, but it wasn't entirely from fear. there was a vulnerability in his confession, a desperate need for something more than just sustenance.

"the challenge," he said, his voice gaining a tinge of bitterness. "the forbidden fruit. maybe that's what drew me in at first. but then…" he hesitated, a flicker of something akin to shame crossing his features.

"then what?" you prompted, your voice barely a whisper. this wasn't how you'd imagined confronting a vampire, yet here you were, drawn into his story.

"don't you see?" heeseung's voice rose, a tremor of desperation colouring it. "you make me weak, vulnerable. yet, your defiance only intensifies the pull. you're everything i shouldn't want, everything i crave."

the revelation sent a jolt through you, a terrifying mix of fear and… something else. the line between predator and prey seemed to blur in the confines of the elevator. you were trapped, yes, but there was also a strange sense of being held hostage by a creature consumed by a desire he both craved and loathed.

the silence that followed heeseung's confession stretched on, thick with a tension that was no longer just fear. you understood him, perhaps better than he understood himself.

taking a deep breath, you surprised yourself by what you said next. "maybe there’s another way."

heeseung's head snapped up, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. "what do you mean?"

"i can help" you held out your wrist, the moonlight filtering through a crack in the elevator door illuminating the delicate veins beneath your skin. "you said you needed blood. maybe i can…

he recoiled as if struck. "no. absolutely not. i won't—"

"heeseung," you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tremor in your heart. "look at me. i'm not scared. in fact…" you hesitated, a blush creeping up your neck. "maybe i… feel the same way."

the air crackled with a new kind of tension. heeseung stared at you, his face a mask of disbelief. "the same way? how?"

"like you said," you whispered, "forbidden. a dangerous attraction." you met his gaze, holding it with a newfound resolve. "if this is what you need, i… i consent."

heeseung's breath hitched. shame flickered in his eyes, quickly replaced by a raw hunger that made your own pulse quicken. "but," he said, his voice low and urgent, "i need more. much more. and from… a different place."

your stomach lurched. "different place?"

a flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. "my apologies," he murmured. "to properly sustain me, i need… the jugular."

the word hung heavy in the air, a primal request that sent a wave of apprehension through you. the image of a vampire sinking its fangs into someone's neck flashed before your eyes. but then, against your better judgment, you found yourself nodding slowly.

a surge of relief, tinged with desperation, washed over heeseung. he moved towards you, a predator closing in on its prey. the closeness brought back a memory - the night in the club bathroom, pressed against the wall, his chilly breath on your neck.

he trapped you against the corner, his body a wall of heat, completely different from the other day where he was freezing.

"please," he rasped, his voice raw with hunger and a strange, desperate plea. "i can't control myself much longer. let me…"

his voice trailed off, replaced by a whimper that both shocked and ignited something within you. this wasn't the cold, calculating heeseung you'd feared. this was a creature on the brink, his monstrous hunger battling with a threadbare shred of control.

"alright," you whispered, the word leaving your lips before you could overthink it.

he didn't hesitate. he leaned in, his movements a blur of desperation. kisses, hot and wet, rained down on your neck, each one a branding iron leaving a fiery mark. you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain. but it never came.

instead, as his fangs pierced your skin, a jolt of something unexpected surged through you. it wasn't pain, but a warmth that spread through your body like liquid fire. your mind grew hazy, your senses overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure that originated from the very point of contact.

he moaned, a deep, primal sound that echoed in the confined space. "so sweet," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "the best i've ever tasted."

he drank deeply, his body trembling with each intake. you could hear him purring, a low rumble that resonated deep within your core. the pleasure was overwhelming, a dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure that left you gasping for breath. your mind turned hazy, each noise tumbling out of his lips sounding like liquid gold to you.

when he finally pulled away, breathless and satiated, he looked at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. he languidly licked away the remnants of blood from the wound, his warm tongue sending a jolt of electricity through you.

he didn't stop there. he swiped at the blood that trickled down your collarbone, his tongue making a suggestive swipe against your skin. a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes, and you couldn't help but lean closer, a thrill coursing through you.

the jarring hum of the elevator coming back to life jolted you both from your current position. heeseung, his fangs retracted, quickly pressed the button for your floor. a strange mixture of fear and elation bubbled in your chest, a sensation as unfamiliar as the pleasure you'd just experienced.

he turned to you, his eyes searching your face. "are you alright?" his voice was concerned, a stark contrast to his needy whines just moments ago.

you hesitantly reached for your neck, expecting a throbbing pain. instead, you found smooth, unmarked skin. a gasp escaped your lips. "it… it healed?"

heeseung nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "vampire saliva," he explained casually. "has a few… interesting properties. speeds up healing, for one."

a blush crept up your cheeks as you recalled the wave of euphoria that had washed over you during his feeding. "and…" you stammered, "the pleasure?"

"speaking of pleasure," heeseung's voice dipped to a husky whisper, "vampire saliva has another... side effect."

he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "an aphrodisiac," he breathed, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "especially potent when mixed with a good dose of desire. all thanks to those initial kisses on your neck i had planted.”

"so that's why…" you mumbled, suddenly embarrassed.

the elevator doors slid open, revealing the familiar hallway. you stepped out, feeling oddly energised despite the ordeal. a playful smile tugged at your lips.

"so," you said, turning to face him, your fingers playfully tapping his arm, "how do you plan to repay me for that little… service?"

heeseung raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. before he could answer, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your forehead in a sweet kiss. pulling away, he grinned, his fangs catching the dim light playfully.

your heart hammered in your chest as he took your hand, his touch sending a spark of heat through you. stepping closer to your apartment, he winked.

"let's discuss repayment options in private, shall we?" he said, his voice dripping with a promise of things to come.

he took your hand again, his touch surprisingly warm despite his vampiric nature. before you could respond, he gently steered you towards your apartment, leaving you breathless and caught in the undercurrent of a dangerous, exhilarating game you'd just begun to play.

as you fumbled with your keys, trying to unlock the door in hurry, he leaned down next to you and murmured, his voice a low, suggestive rumble.

"i'm sure you taste just as good everywhere else."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#౨ৎ 𝓐dy writes🪄#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fics #heeseung oneshots #kpop fics #vampire au #enhypen vampire au #vampire!enhypen #vampire!heeseung #enhypen horror

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jinwoosbabyboo · 2 months ago

Note

Can you please do a hc of the guys helping you out after you come home tipsy(or drunk) from a girls night?

𝙿𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜

The lads men taking care of you after a girls night out. You came home drunk and you woke up with the worst hangover known to man. A/N: for this we’re going full messy drunk okay? great. cw: mentions of vomit/puke

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

[Coming home]

he picked you up after you drunk dialed him

drove on side roads so he could go slower so you wouldn’t get motion sickness

keeps your hair out of your face while you puke

listens to you ramble on and on about handsome he is and reminds you that you’re already dating him when you ask if he’s single

dodges you every time you try to kiss him in your drunken state ; does not care how fussy you get

let’s you hang on him like a koala while he removes your makeup and runs you a bath

tucks you into bed and holds you while you sleep

[The hangover]

has been checking on you periodically while you were passed out asleep the second you start to stir he grabs water and pain meds for your headache

in full doctor mode ; not gentle at all making you down two pills and a glass of water

left a trash can by the bed for you incase you vomitted overnight

spoons feeds you ginger chicken soup so you’re not digesting pain meds on an empty stomach ; doesn't leave until the whole bowl is gone

makes you lay on your side when you fall back asleep ; he doesn’t want you to choke one your own vomit

rubs your back while giving you a small lecture about drinking too much

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

[Coming home]

teases you about how you can’t hold your liquor

helps you take off your heels/shoes when you come stumbling through the door

picks you up carries you through the house while rubbing your back

is blushing furiously from your shameless flirting in your drunken state

sits you on the counter and holds your chin while he wipes your makeup off

finds it funny when you get fussy while he’s trying to take care of you “you’re so adorable”

strips you out of your current outfit and puts you in one of his shirts “You look better in my clothes anyway”

cradles you in his arms and has a trash can within reach if you have to puke

[The hangover]

has you laying on him while he reads a book when you wake up “good morning cutie does your head hurt?”

teases you again before kissing your forehead offering to get you food

“Come on you need a shower” carries you to the bathroom and showers with you ; dresses you in another one of his shirt again “you should just wear my clothes”

washes your face for you “I can do it Raf!” “I know you can, but let me take care of you”

wraps you up in the blanket like a burrito and carries you into his studio so he can keep an eye on you while he paints

gives you pain meds for your headache and orders or makes you whatever you want to eat

tells you all about your shameless flirting while you were drunk ; over exaggerates how he had to fight you off because you wanted him so bad

ends up laying on the couch with you instead of working on any of his projects

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

[Coming home]

woke up from his sleep when he heard you fumbling with the front door lock

fell to the floor with you on top of him when you stumbled through the door

concerned with how much you drank “Did you overdue it?” ; your giggles gave it away

is half sleep while he sits you on the counter and wipes your makeup off ; is unbelievably gentle while he does this

sits on the floor of the bathroom with you while you throw up ; stays like this with you until you start dozing off

rubs your back and wipes your mouth for you

grips you by the chin and lets you lean against him while he brushes your teeth

strips you down to your underwear and when you get too fussy for him he just lets you lay down like that

[The hangover]

is sitting up in bed when you wake up and immediately drags you into the shower ; towel dries you ; dresses you in his clothes and puts you back in bed

offers to cook you something ; orders takeout after the look you gave him

gives you pain meds after you get something in your stomach

lazy day with Xav naps, naps, and more naps

lazes around in bed all day with you

gets up to get you anything you ask for

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

[Coming home]

it’s night time so you know he’s in his element when you call him to come get you ; your night is ending and his day is just starting

picked you up from your girls night out ; promised to send Luke and Kieran for your car when you started throwing a fit about it

carries you bridal style through the house

already had a bath ready for you ; strips you out of your clothes and puts you in the tub

wraps you in a warm towel ; sits you on the counter ; puts your bonnet on you(or ties your hair back) ; wipes your makeup off and washes your face

doesn’t care how fussy you get when he’s trying to brush your teeth for you ; holds you in place with his evol “ahm roking(im choking)!” “You’re not choking sweetie spit”

lets you sleep in his lap and doesn’t care if you drool on him

[The hangover]

canceled everything to take care of you

him and the twins are at your beckoned call especially Sylus of course

gives you scalp massages

brings you a menu of foods that are good for hangovers ; watches you eat ; encourages one more bite before giving you some pain killers

teases you about your bratty fits you threw while you were drunk “it’s not that funny” “You’re adorable when you try to act angry” “im not acting!” “Whatever you say Princess”

if you have any body aches he’s giving you a massage

sits in bed with you letting you take naps on him ; once again he doesn’t mind you drooling on him

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rosenclaws · 6 days ago

Text

What you've been missing || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: Logan has found work at a local pet shelter but the last person he expects to see is his very cute neighbor looking for a new cat.

warnings: sad cat backstory, fluff, swearing

a/n: Here's pet shelter logan!! I'm ngl I almost started crying writing this because I want a cat so fucking bad but my dad is allergic and I still live at home so I can't get one. Also it made me think of this one senior cat I saw and I wanted so bad I cried to my boyfriend for days. Anyways I hope lives up to the og idea blurb I had. I've been feeling a little down and wanted to write something cute for a change.

"Hey watch the claws bub." Logan glares at his attacker. The one who stuck their sharp little claws into his leg as they climb his body like a tree.

Merooow

The adorable orange cat looks up at him with innocent little eyes. The cutest he's ever seen. Sighing he takes the cat in one hand and places her on his shoulder.

"This is why the others think I play favorites Jeanie." he mumbles. She just purrs happily, rubbing her head against Logan's and taking her place on his wide shoulders.

This really isn't how Logan expected to spend his time. But getting pulled into a new universe meant he was starting from square one and that meant he needed a job and money. Bad. If he ever wanted to get his own place so he didn't have to wake up and see Wade walking around in nothing while making breakfast. Most places were unsure about hiring a man like Logan.

Until he stumbled upon a local pet shelter. Yeah he's not exactly what anyone would think when they thought animal rescue but the animals loved him and this shelter desperately needed help. Plus Logan always got along better with animals than humans. Logan was primarily put in charge of the cats. Feeding, changing their litter box, and playing with them.

Logan understood the cats and they seemed to understand him. They wouldn't hiss or scratch him out of fear, they inherently trusted him. He found himself a little home. He could escape the world and just be around the animals.

"Where are my babies?" He hears Wades voice come from the other room. Logan rolls his eyes as he walks in with a big bag of cat food on his other shoulder.

"There you are Shopping cart and Totino's pizza rolls." Wade scratches the two cats heads. Surprise surprise he named them.

Though as soon as they hear Logan walk in they abandon Wade without a second thought. Logan slices open the bag and pours food into each bowl. The cats scramble to eat, doesn't matter if you had fed them an hour ago they're always happy for food.

"Jeanie, you gotta eat bub." Logan raises his hand and gently pets her head. But her claws dig deep into his shirt.

"Alright come on," Logan he grabs a can of cat food and walks into an empty room.

The sound of it opening makes her ears perk up. Logan gently takes her off his shoulder and places her on the table next to the canned food. He watches as she sniffs it, taking a few small bites before looking back at him.

"More than that." He scolds and she just meows back.

"Please?" She takes one more small bite before abandoning the food and curling up by his side.

Logan sighs, pushing his hair back as takes her in his arms. Jeanie was a surrendered cat. Logan hadn't been here long when she was brought in. Her owner was an old lady who had passed away and her kids couldn't keep Jeanie.

The first week was really hard. She was sad, lonely, and would barely touch her food and water. At first Logan let the more experienced staff deal with her but she just wouldn't budge. Eventually he gave it a shot, talking to her and pushing some nice wet food towards her. To everyone's shock she actually responded to Logan. Peeking her head out of her cage and giving even sniffing his hand.

Since then she really only responded to Logan. Following him around and giving him all her love and attention. She was a mature cat, not as cute as the kittens that most people scooped up right away. It did hurt Logan just a little to see her be passed up because of her age, but Logan did enjoy getting to see her everyday. Still, he knows that with Mary Puppins at home he can't adopt her.

Suddenly the door opens and Jeanie scurries back up to Logan's shoulder.

"Logan, I have a 1:30 appointment and Kathy isn't here so I need you to cover her." Penny begs, she's the one who runs the shelter. She gave Logan the job and he does owe her, but he's never been good with customers.

"I don't know, not exactly a people person." He mumbles but she just rolls her eyes, grabbing his wrist and drags him out of the room. Well kind of, it's hard to pull a 300lb man with a metal skeleton.

"Just one appointment. Show them some cats and see if they want to adopt. That's it."

"Okay," Logan agrees, hoping it's over quickly. He tries to put Jeanie down but she throws a fit, meowing loudly until he just gives up.

"Fine, but you keep it down when I'm talking alright?" He pushes open the door leading to the lobby and stops right in his tracks.

There you are sitting on the waiting room couch. Logan knows you. You live a couple apartments down from Wade. He's seen you in passing, catching whiffs of your shampoo in the elevator in the least creepy way ever. You've shared a few hellos but that's it.

The truth is Logan's pretty...well pretty. Your crush on him wasn't surprising in the slightest but you try and stay clear of him, hoping that it will go away so that you can actually talk to the man one day.

"Logan? I didn't know you worked here?" You say, shocked to see your hot neighbor here.

"Yeah, uh anyways you here to adopt a cat?" He asks awkwardly.

"I hope," You respond.

He nods his head and opens the door for you, putting his hand out as to say you first. Logan shows you a couple cats up for adopting, they're all adorable but none of them feel quite right. On the bright side they're kittens so you know they'll be adopted soon.

Logan remains relatively quiet as you say hi to each cat. Wade's been incredibly persistent about getting him to talk to you. Saying that only serial killers smell peoples hair in the elevator and to just pop a Viagra and talk to you. Pushing Wade's stupidly aside, he really doesn't know how to talk to you.

It's stupid, he used to be great at this kind of thing. Flirting was second nature to Logan but now he can barely think of a conversation starter. Plus you don't make it easy when your laugh is so hypnotizing and your smile is brighter than the moon.

"Who's this pretty girl?" Your voice breaks his thoughts. You're pointing to Jeanie who was still on his shoulder.

"Oh, this is Jeanie." She tilts her head at the sound of her name.

"She's so cute." You lift your hand up but Jeanie shrinks away. You immediately pull your hand back, afraid that you've upset her.

"Don't feel bad, she's not great with people."

"Reminds me of someone else I know." You joke. Logan raises an eyebrow, are you talking about him?

"Me, I was talking about me." You add on quickly.

"I've never really been great at making friends or just being around people." The truth is you're lonely.

You're tired of coming home to an empty cold apartment after work. Sure sometimes you go out with coworkers or old friends but it's not the same. You like being alone but you don't like to be lonely. Does that even make any sense? Not that you want to burden Logan with your problems.

"I wanted to adopt a cat because I wanted a friend, is that sad?" You ask nervously. Logan chuckles, reaching up and placing Jeanie down on the counter nearby.

"Not at all, I get it." Logan was alone for a lot of his life and he's still adjusting to having friends. A family if you could call it that. A really weird and fucked up family.

"Play nice Jeanie, I like this one so don't go scratching them up." He whispers, but you catch his words anyways. A faint smile on your lips as you reach your hand out slowly.

"Hi Jeanie, I'm a friend of Logan's." This time Jeanie doesn't run away, in fact she sniffs your hand cautiously.

She looks back at Logan and he nods. You smile when she rubs the side of her face against your hand. Walking around slowly as she takes you in.

"I think she likes you." Logan says.

Carefully you pet her head, making sure not to overstep any boundaries and Jeanie seems to love it. She even rolls on her back surprising both you and Logan.

"Her owner passed away, that's why she's here." He explains as you continue to pet her. Her big eyes are too much to resist. You know senior cats often get overlooked but she deserves to be loved again.

"Is she adoptable?" You ask and Logan hesitates. The answer is yes but apart of him doesn't want to see her go. He's grown very fond of her. But...she deserves a home. Even if it will hurt letting her go.

"Yeah, she is." He says softly.

"If its okay with you, I want to adopt her." Logan's heart clenches, he smiles but he feels the sadness creep in.

"Of course, let me get the paperwork." When Logan disappears you see Jean start to look around, wondering where her friend had gone.

"Hey there girl, If it's okay I want to take you home. I promise I'll take really good care of you." You say gently.

Her little whiskers twitch and she gently headbutts your face. The connection you feel with Jeanie is something you just haven't felt with any of the other cats. You want to love her and give her a nice warm home with toys and treats and anything she could ever want. But apart of you feels guilty knowing how close she is to Logan.

"Just need you to sign a few things and then pay the adoption fee." Logan says, coming back through the door.

Jeanie trots up to Logan and rubs her head all over his hand and torso. Purring happily as he scratches her head. But she makes no move to get on his shoulder, in fact she trots over to you and does the exact same thing. He's always heard that cats have a good sense of character, so he trusts Jeanies judgement here.

After signing the papers and paying the fee Logan helps you carry Jeanie to your car. You can see the hesitancy in Logan's face. The sadness behind those hazel eyes of his.

"Logan, do you want to say goodbye?" You ask softly. He was never going to ask for himself but you could sense he needs it.

"If you don't mind." He mumbles.

"Of course, I'll go put the rest of the stuff in my car." You touch his arm, squeezing it gently before giving them their space.

"Alright Jeanie listen up, you gotta be on your best behavior okay? You deserve this and I know they're gonna love you real good." Logan holds Jeanie up to his face. She just meows as Logan talks.

"I'll miss you bub, don't tell any of the other cats but...you were my favorite." He gives her one last chin scratch.

Jeanie headbutts his face one more time, rubbing her head along his jaw as if to say goodbye. You watch the whole thing from your car, you feel horrible taking her away from Logan. But you know that your building has a rule against more than one pet. If anyone were to take her, he's glad it's you.

Maybe...maybe this is your chance to talk to Logan. Your crush lingers but maybe you don't have to get over it. Logan walks over and hands her to you. He starts to walk away but you call his name, chasing after him.

"You know, I could really use some help with Jeanie. I mean I don't know what food she likes or her favorite toys or anything like that." You ramble, seeing Logan's face turn to that of confusion.

"I was wondering, if you wanted to come over for dinner tomorrow night? Help Jeanie get settled in and stuff." You ask nervously. Your anxiety building as you wonder if this was a mistake.

"You sure?" Logan asks, unsure if you're just doing this because you feel bad for him.

"Yes. I mean. I've been wanting to ask you to dinner sooner but I've never found the right moment because you're really hot and you make me very nervous but Jeanie is going to miss you and it would be cruel of me to keep you two apart so it's a win win situation and I'm going to stop talking now." The words vomit from your mouth before you can stop them.

Great now he's going to think you're creepy and lonely. Logan chuckles, a blush creeping up his face. Was it always this hot outside today?

"Dinner sounds great. I can't cook for shit but I can try for you." Your face breaks out into a smile, Jeanie purring as you hold her close to your chest.

"Then its a date." You say shyly. Logan steps closer to you, his eyes on your lips.

"It's a date." He starts to lean but Jeanie meows loudly making both of you laugh.

"Okay I should get her home, the doors always open if you miss her by the way." You tell him and he thanks you. He stands in the parking lot with a smile, watching as you drive away. Wade sneaks up next to Logan, scratching behind his ear before Logan pushes his hand off in annoyance.

"What the fuck?!"

"Look at you boy! Did someone decide to take you home?" Wade asks in fake excitement.

"Shut up." Logan grumbles, rolling his eyes as he turns around to walk back to the shelter.

"Is someone grumpy? How about we get you a new collar and some treats huh boy?"

"I said shut the fuck up red." Logan snaps but Wade just smiles wider. He's been waiting for someone to adopt his friend. Wade was this close to posting an ad on craigslist.

Old man mutant available for adoption. Loves beer, hates everything else. Is potty trained.

Wade sees the smile Logan's trying to hide. He's been waiting for you guys to get together forever.

"Aww does someone need a belly rub?"

"Touch me and die asshole."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #worst!logan howlett #worst!logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fluff

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namjooningera · 8 months ago

Note

Hii can I request any yandere JJK men with a reader whose on a hunger strike or refuses to be handfed by them? Ty ^.^

Yandere JJK react to y/n refusing them/not eating

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, (NEW) Sukuna (king ver of Sukuna)

AN: just reader being a lil bratty (real) also I just added Sukuna as a new character tehe. Tell me how it is 👀 however since he’s a yan I am making him softer towards y/n (but insaner towards other ppl yk?) also he’s a king in this one so

TW: starving, SLIGHT physical violence, threats, force feeding, tiniest bit of infantilization (gojo & Nanami)

Gojo:

No he won’t allow it.

He won’t allow you to act like a child and refuse to eat or drink. At this point he’s worried because you won’t do anything. Like a dead doll standing as still as possible to not be caught moving.

Nothing scares him. But you do.

So he took matters into his own hands and tied you up in a chair, hands to the armrests, legs to the feet of the chair, chest binded and rope littered all around the rest of your body tied to the helpless chair.

You screamed since you couldn’t kick, bit since you couldn’t hit, tried to refuse and refuse and he just didn’t know what to do. Seeing you hurt yourself, not eating as a protest to your involuntary stay, god it was torture to him. Like his own punishment.

At first he let it go. Tried to hand feed you your favorite snacks and placed a cup of cold water at your lips. And everytime you smacked it away from you. He watched your favorite snacks hit the floor and soil the carpet. The water spill and create a wet mess on the floor boards.

Why couldn’t you just be good and eat? Drink? Please stop refusing. At one point he almost started begging you. Hands at his chest, put together, eyes wide and sad, his mouth profusely spitting out begs and whines of how he just wanted you safe and healthy.

You didn’t listen.

You probably should’ve, or at least acknowledged his damn presence, because what he did next what’s unpredictable.

Tying you up in that chair and force feeding you. He made you your comfort food in hopes you’d actually want to eat it on your own. You didn’t. Which is fine. It just means he had to take extra precautions. His hand swirled the spoon of food around in the air, blowing raspberries as he said,

“Here comes the airplane!” As if you were some stupid child not wanting to eat your greens.

The spoon flew to your mouth but you moved your head to the side the only thing you could move, avoiding the spoon and it’s food.

His smile dropped just the tiniest bit but he continued his ministrations.

“Babe! Here comes the airplane Kay? Say ahh!” He announced once again in that awfully positive attitude, nudging the spoon at your lips, which you kept sewn shut.

“Come on babe, just open up~” but you didn’t, and he was getting impatient. “Babe?”

You didn’t look at him, didn’t dare open your mouth or even glance his way.

He snaps, grabbing your jaw and pinching your nose. You gasped, not being able to breathe, and without a second thought, that spoon of food was shoved into your mouth. He let go of your nose, and scooted his chair closer to yours.

“It’s good right? I added extra flavoring just for my girl. I know you like it that way.” He giggled, as if he didnt force the food down your damn throat.

“Here comes the choo choo train!” He whistled, and you realized that he enjoys babying you the way he does, even if it meant going against your will.

Geto:

This man does not play around either.

Coming home to you after a long day with what he calls “monkeys” just to see the untouched food still sitting on the table from when he made breakfast. He had brought take out- just to find out that you haven’t been eating in the first place.

He made that for you, took time out of his day to cook, make breakfast for you, the time where he’s normally busy. But alas, he cleans the dishes and runs up to your room and knocks on your door. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want him in he’ll come in anyway.

“I noticed you didn’t touch your plate. From this morning. It’s night now.”

Your stuffed into the sheets, messy covers over your body and head in your pillows. You don’t answer. You don’t think he deserves one.

“You haven’t eaten all week.”

He shuts the door behind him and storms towards you. It’s obvious that your silence is making him angry. Normally, you ignoring him doesn’t make him upset, he understands how you might feel…uneasy in this kind of situation. But hurting yourself? That’s not something he’ll allow or even tolerate.

He grabs the sheets and tugs them off of you, revealing your drained form. You groan and cover try to tug the sheets back to cover your body but he throws them to the floor and glared at you.

“You know why you’re so drained? It’s cause’ you won’t fucking eat.”

You don’t answer, you don’t want to answer. You just want the bed to swallow you whole, and the ground to open up so that you may fall into the abyss and disappear.

“I don’t want your fucking food.” You say, instead.

“Why not? Is it not to your liking?”

You grumble and glare up at him, finally lifting your face from the pillows.

“You’re not to my liking- Suguru I wanna go home-“ “enough!”

He cuts you off quickly, shutting you down almost immediately, which causes you to stuff your head back into the pillows.

He groans seeing this and slowly shuffled onto the bed with you. His mouth came down to your ear where he whispered

“If you don’t at least try to eat, I’ll make you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, you knew he wasn’t fibbing. You slowly got out of bed but he was quicker then you, pulling you out by your arm and sitting you up against the bed post.

He brought the takeout food and opened the bags of food on the bed, handing you a plate and utensil. You took it hesitantly and kept it on your lap. Not opening the food.

“Well?”

You shook your head. This was your way of protest, against him holding you captive, running a cult, being a damn curse user-

“You’re going to eat.” He demands, and you just shake your head and look to the side of you, away from him. You know he’ll force you- but you can’t help but refuse him anyway.

And without a second thought, he grabs the food then you, hoisting you into his lap without a single chance for you to fight back. One arm caging you in by your chest and arms, stopping any movement from you, the other bringing a spoon to your mouth.

“Eat, darling, or it’ll get worse from here.” A smile adoring his lips and licking the tips of your ear.

You finally take a bite of the food, his arm that basically were bruising your ribs to stop your movement finally unclenched around you and gave you a second to breathe.

“See? That wasn’t so hard. Now open up.”

Toji-

“Yer’ not eating your food.”

You’ve slumped down on the chair in front of him in the dining room, swirling around the water in your glass cup, the food in front of you untouched.

“I’m talking to you, doll.”

But you ignore him, watching the whirlpool or water in your cup, ignoring his very obvious angry presence.

“You haven’t eaten in days. You know what’s’ that gonna do to you? You’re gonna faint.”

You again ignore him and sigh, head resting on your hand that rested against the table.

“I’m talking to you.”

You don’t look up. You know it’s a lousy way to protest this invuluntary stay but you can’t think of anything else. He’s basically taken away any other form of protest you could ever possibly have, he’s controlling and fuck is he actually smart. His protectiveness on the kind of level where he made sure you could never fight back or hurt yourself in the process.

As your dazed, zoned out in your own thoughts, you don’t see him get out of his seat and grab you by your arm, forcing you up and off the seat and the floor.

“Didn’t yeah hear me?”

You wince at the fact your arm is being held above your head and you’re practically hanging from it.

“I heard you okay.. I’m not hungry.”

He huffs and puts you down. “Not hungry? It’s been days, doll. Days.”

You just shrug, rubbing your sore arm from being hanged up by it.

“If you don’t eat, I don’t mind feeding you like a baby bird. I’ll eat it up then force into your mouth with mine.”

“Y-you’re so crude, Toji..” You almost whine, disgusted by the thought.

“I’m not kidding.”

You sit back down at your seat, his eyes watching you pick up the fork and start to stab at your food.

“What did I say?”

“Okay okay.” You whine, finally sticking the fork in your mouth, making eye contact with him as you do, glaring at him.

“Tastes bad.” You whine.

“You little-“

Nanami-

Nanami is quite the patient man. You don’t want to get out of bed? Fine. You don’t want to shower? Fine. You don’t want to touch him? Fine. But you don’t want to eat or drink? That’s fucking pushing it.

When he first took you, he made sure you got all the proper nutrients you need, took care of your hygiene and made sure you were perfectly physically healthy.

He’s been putting down food at your nightstand for every meal, sometimes snacks in the middle of meals as well. He feeds you such a good amount that’s supposed to keep you full for every second of the day. Keep you satisfied. And pantries filled with your favorite snacks (the healthier versions, however), and a mini fridge with your favorite zero-sugar healthy drinks. With water, of course.

But you haven’t touched any.

He notices that every meal he puts down at your nightstand is untouched. You lay still in bed, so still he thinks you might be dead. Well you might be, with the absence of food eating at you.

And the pantry is untouched so is the mini fridge, and all the snacks he left for you in the middle of the days start to pile up.

At first he didn’t mind it. He got it, you might be nauseated or feel sick at the fact your away from home. That’s fine. He’ll give you time.

But then days go by.

And he just gets so worried about your health.

He encouraged you as much as he could but wouldn’t push it, he didn’t wanna scare you away. But at this point, it was just ridiculous. He watched from work, on his phone with the app that connected all his security cameras, watching as you hovered around the kitchen. He knew you were hungry. So why torture yourself?

At this point it was torturing him, not you. Well maybe that was the point to it. But he couldn’t take it anymore. He felt like a terrible caregiver. He was supposed to take care of you and protect you as your lover- that’s the damn reason he took you in, in the first place. So why couldn’t you see that? Why couldn’t he help you?

But Nanami is a good man, with zero bad intentions. So he decides first he can try bribing you. He makes your favorite dishes, the smell wafting in your room and up your nose. He places it at your nightstand, with your favorite cold drink next to it. The perfect combo. He does this for a while. No matter how hard the food is to make, whatever bullshit combination he needed to construct, however simple or complicated, he made it.

And yet you didn’t eat it.

He tried buying you material things, giving you extra little privileges like time in the garden or extra TV time, but you don’t even use them. You don’t even care.

And he can tell that you would, if you had the strength to. But you don’t, you’re weak. Probably because you’ve gotten so weak. But your hoping, your begging, that maybe he’ll see your weak body and finally get you some help. Maybe he’ll realize this is hurting not helping you, and he’ll let you go. You know the Nanami you’ve always known is deep down beneath the insecurity of his yandere self. You just need to find it right?

He got home that night. Late. His mind buzzed with work, eyes tired and body sore from constantly staying in his office chair, clicking the keyboard and staring at a screen. He’s been looking into a job for jujutsu sorcerers- but he thinks that’ll take too much time away from you.

He dragged his body into the house, closing the door behind him and quietly yelling out, “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

He hoped you’d flock to the door and he’d feel your warmth- but obviously that was just a dream to him and you never did so. Staying hidden away in the your room or wherever you were.

He decided to prepare a late dinner for the both of you, hoping some time together could encourage you to eat.

He dragged his body to your room. He just needed you, needed your warmth, your kindness, your loving presence and any kind of physical and emotional attention you could give him.

But as he opens the door to your room, he sees the breakfast he left on your. NIght stand, still left untouched.

“Sweetheart. This has gone too long. I respect all your decisions, and that you might be upset with me, but I need you to eat.”

Your wrapped up in the sheets, ignoring him, face stuffed in your white pillows.

“Honey, dear. Please, look at me.”

You can hear the desperation in his voice, the almost begging in his timid voice that almost makes you choke.

You look up at him, soft dead eyes staring up at his concerned ones.

“I made your favorite meal again. I know you don’t want to eat, but can you at least come sit at the table with me?”

You know this is his soft way of trying to convince you. And you also know that he wants you to sit at the table so he can feel like you two are an actual couple not one from hell.

You get up, which makes him sigh of relief. Thinking that you’re giving him a chance. Obviously, that’s not your idea, but you’ll let him think so.

He gently takes your hand, leading you downstairs to the dining table. You see he decorated, putting candles on the table, brought out the fancy silverware and china, the wine glasses and table cloths that matched the fabric of the silk pillows on the cushioned chairs.

“Sit, my love.” He pulls your chair for you, with a gentle smile. You can see the relief in his eyes when you sit, and he pushes you in.

You’d be flustered by such a gentlemanly move if it wasn’t for the situation you were currently in.

He sits in front of you and pops open the white wine, the insanely expansive white wine, pouring some in both of your glasses, he raised his up to yours, in which you ignored, and he clinked his glass with yours.

“Ready to try? I simply perfected the recipe-“

You place a spoonful of food in your mouth, before spitting it out right at him, shocking him and making yourself laugh for the first time in so long.

You soiled his expensive blouse, the shock of your behavior making him spill his wine, his eyes wide and looking down at his ruined blouse, then to you, then to the spilled wine, then to you.

You just giggle, smirking in victory at his dazed response and how you won’t let yourself be pushed around by him.

But what you don’t expect, is for this extremely caring gentlemanly man to slam down the cloth from on his thighs down at the table, getting up as he unloosed his tie.

“I’m done.”

And your smile drops in a way that makes you realize you won. He’ll let you go, he’s finally done with you he’s gonna let you go-

“If you want to act like a child I will simply treat you like one, until you can behave like an adult.”

Your eyebrow raises at that. What? Wait what?

He throws his tie off his neck, grabbing your hands and tying them up. You try to fight him off you but he’s strong, he didn’t even try.

He leaves, and your relieved, a little scared that he left you tied but at least the mad man is gone. But then he comes back with a toddlers seat. A fucking child booster seat.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he meant. “N-no no way! I’m not sitting in that- I won’t even fit-“

“You know I bought this.. I bought this hoping our first child could use it..” he sighs. “But I guess you can be the test drive..”

“N-no! Your crazy! Your insane! I won’t even fit in it I won’t!”

“You don’t have a choice.” He cuts you off. “I’m tired of watching my love kill themselves off just because you’re upset. You can be upset just don’t hurt yourself.”

He places the child’s booster seat next to you, at the table.

“You either eat, or fucking sit here and I’ll feed you. Well? Do you want a baby bottle too?”

Sukuna:

Catching the eye of someone so murderous and evil is just the most hell filled unfortunate thing that can happen to you.

And it did.

You found yourself being coddled and “loved” by a monster. He’s pure evil, and you’re his. There’s no denying it. You’re the chosen one.

As his maids touch up your hair, give you a manicure, clean your face of the tears and blood from biting your lips, you stare at them with desperation in your eyes.

Save me.

You think, but they won’t. They’re loyal.

Sure, Sukuna hasn’t done anything actually bad to you, but he’s locked you up, like a princess in a tower. You hope that your prince in shining armor will save you, that he’ll come running with his horse and sword, armor and shield in hand.

But he never does. And if he did, you’d never know because Sukuna probably killed him before he even got a chance to get a glimpse of your pearly eyes.

A maid brushes your hair. You think. He’s taken away all your forms of protest.

When you stopped taking care of yourself, that was fine, he ordered his maids to wash your hair and clean your body, do your skincare and paint your nails. Even go as far as to brush your damn teeth.

They’d use expensive amounts of creams and moisturizers, the kind even the bourgeoisie couldn’t afford. Perfumes from across the land and hair oils from different kingdoms.

All these things, just for you.

When you didn’t want to get out of bed, see the sun, he made sure you were made to get that vitamin D every morning, a small stroll before and after breakfast in the garden, with of course, the guards watching you.

He pampered you, without even being there. Made sure you were healthily entertained with your favorite books and games, all your devices you humans use to take up time. He even brought a festival worth of people to greet you when he took- when you came. Circuses, fire crackers, acrobats, all those to welcome you into his palace.

And you took it all with a grain of rice.

You didn’t want to be here, you didn’t mean to pique his interest. But you did. And now your stuck. You even heard the townspeople whisper of how the man who forced everyone on their knees to worship him is now worshiping you. A mere boring human.

So you decided to find your own way to protest, something he can’t force you to do or make other people do for you.

Eat.

You sat at the large dining table, him on the long other side, watching as he ate, watching him with no love or adoration in your eyes. While he would hold the stars for you. He’d bring them down for you if you asked.

“Well? Is it not to your liking?” You hear him slur from his side of the table.

“No.” You know this is dangerous. The cruel king, he could have your head.

“What’s not to your liking? I’ll have it changed.”

You shove the plate away from you. “It’s all bad, I don’t wanna eat.”

Maybe you should’ve used different words, different wording to your protest because Sukuna simply didn’t understand it was a form of protest.

“It’s that terrible? Very well. Servants, carry the chef who decided to cook my woman this rechid food and have him publicly executed.”

Your eyes widen with dismay and shock and you look at him. “What? Executed?”

“What? What did you expect, woman? Anyone who feeds my soon to be queen something not up to par, they shall be ridden with shame. With, or without their head.”

He says it with such a nonchalant attitude, as if he isn’t talking about death.

“I-I no. It’s not bad, actyally. Hah. I just meant.. I wasn’t hungry.” You try to solve this mess you accidentally dragged others into.

“Your dramatic show of disgust was simply because you aren’t… hungry?”

He looks at you almost confused, the big plates of foods surrounding him. He had a surplus of hunger, the kind of hunger only you can satisfy.

“I… I apologize.” You think about giving up on your plan, you don’t want to drag people into this, have them hurt because of you. “I just.. actually prefer your food.” You lie.

“My food?” He smirks. The maids and servants look around in fear, some even annoyance, expecting your head to fly off and blood to soil the floors after you basically asked to share food-his food, with you.

“Very well then. You may sit close and satisfy your belly with my food.”

He pats the seat close to him, different from the seat your sitting at now, far from Sukuna. Everyone stares at you with bewildered shock, that the cruel Sukuna is willingly sharing his meal with you, that he hasn’t offed you or anyone else in his vicinity for your request.

You waddle over to him, sitting next to him, and he watches you try a piece of meat, lamb, off one of his large family plates, as if asking for your approval, to see if you like it.

You hum, the food is actually prepared amazingly well, a lot better then the streets of the poor sides of town you had to buy your meat from.

He nods at you, and continues to finish his meal as well, practically clawing and savagely ripping apart the food at his hands, like some animal.

Everyone’s always been afraid of the way he eats, as if he’s ripping apart someone’s flesh and bones, but to you it’s kind of pathetic. Like a little puppy and its chew toy, slobbering over its bone. Instead of saying this however (which he’d have your head for), you go for taking a small folded table cloth napkin and wipe the blood from the flesh of his food off his cheek, cleaning off the smeared gore that he doesn’t seem to notice.

He looks down at you, huffing as a sign of appreciation at your small sign of affection, and you look back up at him with the same look.

You hate this cruel man, the man who’s killed hundreds and hurt people and hurt you. Who stole you.

But as you look up at him, the folded napkin in your hand still poking at his dirtied cheek, you can’t help but think that perhaps the cruel king and the prince in shining armor are the same person.

And that’s Sukuna for y’all 😈😈🔥 guys why did I accidentally make his fluffy what

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