#rope table lamp

[hxcgirl666]

Bedroom - Transitional Bedroom

An illustration of a medium-sized transitional guest bedroom with wallpaper and light wood floors.

[michaelburham]

Guest Boston Example of a small beach style guest vinyl floor and gray floor bedroom design with gray walls

[unstable-samurai]

LOVE IS INTENTION

pt.2: A long Dinner With The Frogs

Sana x Male Reader

word count: 18k

part 1

The superintendent's office resembled more a funeral chamber, suffocated in constant dimness. The cold, relentless glow of fluorescent lamps was the only thing piercing the darkness. The smell of stale coffee and musty papers permeated the air, a perpetual reminder of decay. Smith, with dark circles that looked like craters on a face sculpted by exhaustion, stared at the superintendent. Frustration was the only visible mark on his worn expression.

"Superintendent, we need to talk about the case of the victims," Smith said, his voice heavy as lead. "The fourth woman was found today. The modus operandi is exactly the same as the other three. Unless you haven't noticed."

The superintendent, the personification of coldness and impassivity, leafed through the documents before him with an almost supernatural calm. His eyes slowly rose, fixing on Smith with his well-known bony and unfriendly face.

"I saw the report, Smith," he said, his voice as cold as the room. "But this last victim had a Dharma Wheel symbol. That’s a new detail, don’t you think? It might indicate it's not the same killer. Don't jump to conclusions."

"Oh, so now we're collecting exotic symbols?" Smith retorted, acidity dripping from every word. "I understand your concern, but the rest of the details match perfectly. The profile of the victims, the crime scenes, the way they were approached and killed. This can't be a coincidence, unless you prefer to ignore it."

The superintendent maintained his calm and steady gaze on Smith, as if watching a detective character from a black-and-white noir film.

"I agree there are similarities, but the introduction of a new element might suggest a change in pattern or even the actions of a copycat. We need to be cautious, Smith.”

Smith narrowed his eyes, his hands clenching into fists on the table. “The victims were found in desolate locations, all in seldom-visited urban parks. All four women were between 25 and 35 years old, Caucasian, short in stature, and had a history of ‘nightlife’. The approach was meticulous. Do I need to remind you how it was?” Smith didn't wait for a response and continued: “First, the killer drugged them with benzodiazepines to incapacitate them without raising suspicion. Then, he tied their hands and feet with nylon ropes and strangled them with a thin wire, possibly a piano wire.”

Smith’s voice remained merciless, necessary to make the superintendent understand his point. “The bodies were left in specific, almost ritualistic poses, with their hands crossed over their chests and their eyes open. The only difference in this case is the Dharma Wheel symbol, marked on the victim's forehead with something that seemed to be a cauterization tool, as the forensics confirmed.”

"Dharma Wheel," the superintendent repeated, with a slight inflection of curiosity. "If we initially thought we were dealing with some kind of complex, puritanical misogynist sneaking around brothels, now what is it? A religious fanatic?"

Smith took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. “Well, the Dharma Wheel is a Buddhist symbol, representing cosmic law and order. But it also has mystical connotations. Some believe that incorporating this symbol into a ritual is an attempt to impose a kind of purification or karma on the victim. As if the killer were trying to justify his actions, giving them a higher meaning, almost... religious. Damn, I don’t know. I’ve never been a spiritual guy.”

The superintendent frowned, clearly skeptical. "So you think the killer sees his actions as a form of divine justice?"

"It's a possibility," replied Smith, with a spark of intensity in his eyes. "No detail is added by chance. If the killer included the symbol, he might have evolved in his thinking, or he’s trying to send a message. Maybe he believes he’s correcting some moral imbalance. Sees himself as some kind of Messiah or enlightened one. We need to understand his mindset to anticipate his next steps.”

“And what if we’re dealing with a cult?” questioned the inspector.

"A group of people walking around in white robes killing women would attract a lot of attention, don’t you think? But I admit there might be something bigger behind it. Though it’s still too early to raise such a suspicion. In any case, waiting for another corpse is not a brilliant strategy," Smith insisted. "We have a clear pattern in four cases. We’re dealing with a serial killer. If it’s a cult, we catch one and we catch them all. We need to adjust our operation. The team needs to know we’re dealing with someone methodical and dangerous, unless, of course, you really prefer to wait for another corpse."

"Are you suggesting we formalize this?" asked the superintendent, unperturbed.

"Yes!" affirmed Smith, determined. "Let’s change our mode of operation and inform the team to update the patterns we have. We need to be prepared to anticipate this killer’s next move, with or without the symbol."

There was a note of desperation in Smith’s voice, something even the superintendent, with his impenetrable emotional armor, could not ignore.

"Very well, Smith. Let’s formalize the change and reinforce surveillance in the suburbs. But keep your eyes open for any variation in the pattern. It happened once, it can happen again. Of course, if it’s really the same person. We can't rule out anything," agreed the superintendent, his tone remaining icy. “All this is weighing on me, Smith. I can’t afford to stay in the same spot.”

"Of course, superintendent. We’ll catch the bastard," replied Smith, exhausted. “Well, I think I’ll get some coffee, if you’ll excuse me.”

"Get some sleep, Smith," advised the superintendent, his voice as cold as a tombstone. "We’ll need a better spirit than this to deal with this case."

“I need to sort out a few things first,” Smith said, opening the office door. “After years in this profession, sir, your body gets used to and even learns to function in exhaustion.” And with his usual stubbornness, Smith left the room.

Although the conversation had ended, the funeral-like atmosphere lingered in the air, heavy and striking. The dying cries of the cold wind lashing the window glass seemed to protest against the sick city, as both men prepared to face another long night with no easy answers.

You waited for the document to save automatically, then saved it again manually. Trusting automation 100% has never been your style. You closed the MacBook screen and pushed the chair away from the table, rubbing your tired eyes after three hours of nonstop writing. The now-empty coffee bottle had been your greatest ally in this torturous and solitary mission. All true artists are, at some point, masochists. You heard this from a close friend who was also a writer. A word wizard, you considered him, despite the man never achieving the success he deserved. He was always sensible in his ponderings and could ridiculously well use sex as symbolism for any topic he was discussing. A damn depraved genius is what he was. You wish you had paid more attention when he said function should give a blowjob in form, not the other way around.

You gave a deserved stretch after so many hours sitting, feeling terribly tired, and, unfortunately, there was still a long time until nightfall. It was your third day in the cabin; on the first night, you slept poorly because the place was new, your body and mind needed to get used to such abrupt (though carefully organized) isolation. On the second night, you slept poorly because, well, you don't know why. Just a weird feeling of not being alone, something or someone watching you in the darkness of the room, a sudden perception of there being something else in this place. Whether it was a damn Wendigo or the witch of the woods, you weren’t sure, but regardless of who it was, you were going to sleep well that coming night, no matter the cost.

You took off your clothes, standing in your boxers in front of the bedroom mirror. Not bad for a man about to turn 40, truth be told. You always looked younger than you actually were, and some people found it impossible that you were over 35. For some reason, it was sad to stare at yourself half-naked in front of a mirror, so you refocused and put on your running clothes, the idea being to exhaust yourself to the point that at night you would die in bed, and nothing would bring you back to life, demon or spirit.

Perhaps you drafted the character Smith in such a tired and exhausted way so that he wouldn’t think more astutely than your own mind was capable of at that moment.

In the kitchen, you ate your banana with oats and took your creatine. Deafening silence. Leaning on the sink, you looked around the interior of the cabin; the only thing separating the kitchen from the living room was a counter. There was a small bathroom next to a small bedroom, and nothing more. It was a modest and rustic treasure, and you were more than happy to invest your money to renovate the entire cabin’s plumbing. Artesian well, submersible pump, lift piping, cistern to store water and distribute it to the points of use, pressurizer, and all those filters with strange names and different types of filtrations that, in the end, made it seem like the groundwater had passed under Chernobyl before reaching your cabin. But the bottom line was: drinkable water straight from the tap.

The nearest town was 12 km away. It was almost certain that no one was in the other cabins in the area, as most belonged to hunters and hunting season had not yet opened. The others, the ridiculously large and expensive cabins of rich folks wanting to enjoy nature without giving up extreme comfort, were apparently unoccupied, considering that the vacation season for most people with conventional jobs had already passed. In a way, this made you one of the only slackers in the region.

‘Artist’ might be a less degrading word.

As you headed to the cabin door, you were surprised to notice a small green thing on the wall near the window. As you approached, it moved. You were about to go for a run without your glasses, so eagle vision didn’t match your eyes at the moment. But getting a little closer, you realized it was a frog. When the little visitor noticed your presence, it ran up the wall to hide in an opening between the window and the wall, the spot where it probably came through. Shy little fellow.

“I’d better not see you around here at night, buddy,” you warned it, trying not to sound threatening.

Well, you didn’t hate frogs, but you weren’t a fan either. There was something about them that deeply bothered you, and if it weren’t for that, you might even consider them adorable creatures. The problem was their unpredictability; they could either run away when they saw you coming or suddenly jump on you. It’s not like you were afraid of frogs, maybe just the poisonous ones, for rational reasons, but those were rare to find by chance. The real problem was the feeling of being caught off guard by one of them; it was irritating to you. And this had roots in your tumultuous childhood. As a child, you hated spending holidays at your grandparents' country house because almost every night some frog would jump onto your bed, waking you from deep sleep in the worst possible way: cold, sticky feet on your face. It was always a challenge to get the frogs out of the room, and with all the adults asleep, you couldn’t turn to anyone. A small battle you had to fight alone every night. If only it were daytime, but damn, at night. Why did things seem so much harder at night? Once, three frogs jumped onto your bed within an hour. You woke up the next day with dark circles too deep for a 12-year-old boy and a lot of irritability in your voice. After that misfortune, you started sleeping with the room light on, even after leaving the country house; a habit that triggered issues with your uninterrupted sleep. That was when you first noticed that one event could trigger another completely random one. However, after two months, your father discovered the room light stayed on all night and forced you to turn it off at bedtime, making you lie in bed swallowed by darkness, dreading the sneaky steps of those amphibians so cute yet so damn annoying. It was a pretty embarrassing thing to admit. Ultimately, an irrational fear of something harmless, a product of the unconscious or a malfunction of the reptilian brain, where reason doesn’t operate, only primitive instinct or some crap like that. Regardless of what it was, the sensation of those little cold feet on your forehead was still incredibly vivid in your mind. No wonder you always admired Tiana's courage when she kissed that frog.

The fact was you’d prefer fat, slow toads crawling around your cabin to sneaky frogs inside it. At least this one in particular was smaller than usual, and it looked at you with bulging, curious orange eyes.

“Get out of here, little guy. The insects are outside,” you informed it with leniency, but the green fellow stared at you with a clueless look.

You headed outside the cabin. The fresh air filled your nostrils as the wind tousled your hair. The day was cloudy. According to the weather forecast, the week would be very rainy. You stretched before starting your run; your route would be to walk to a lake five minutes from the cabin and then run around it while listening to your rock playlist. After that, you would have to go to town to buy a new air filter for the generator, and maybe new spark plugs, as the current ones didn't seem to be working properly since the generator was consuming more fuel than you had previously calculated.

Which was strange because it was new.

Oh, and masking tape to cover that crack so the little green guy or one of his friends wouldn’t come back to bother you.

As you walked there (the background music playing in your ears), you revisited the idea of your story in your mind. It was a crime thriller, your first adventure in the genre, perhaps not as commercial as the books Grandma Agatha Christie wrote, tinged with a gloomy and almost nihilistic atmosphere, if not for the satire of the thing in some moments. The draft of the first chapter seemed good enough to you; it set the tone the story would follow. Smith, the classic detective destroyed by his own job and with a few vices, was quite fun to write because of his sarcasm, and the slight satire you intended to put in the subtext of the story lightly worried you about how the audience would receive the book. It wasn’t serious and dark, nor was it a comedy, or a proper satire, but rather that hard-to-reach tone in art: the bittersweetness of real life. Detective Smith cracked good jokes, but despite that, he was a guy committed to his job and, above all, focused on catching the serial killer. Obsessed, so to speak. Which often leads to character flaws and missteps along the way. A human.

Just because what he says is funny doesn't mean he isn't serious.

That was how you wanted to continue the story, and you needed to remember to never underestimate the reader to do it right and stay on tone. The fact that the story only really begins after the fourth murder was different and interesting, placing the reader in the middle of the mess would make the pace intense, while the past events would be given to the reader through flashbacks. The idea could work, as long as you don't ping-pong between the past and the present.

Before you knew it, the lake already stretched out before your eyes, calm and majestic. As you approached, it became clearer, even though distant things weren’t very precise on your radar. Near the shore, you started to run. The sensation was invigorating, close to absolute freedom, making you smile to yourself as all the irrelevant things seemed to fall behind. Perhaps this was the beginning of your solitude, after all. Finally erasing that weird feeling of resentment that had taken over you since you arrived at the cabin, a sense of being somewhat sick, with an inexplicable urge to vomit. And all because of damned Facebook forcing you to see a picture of your ex-wife, remarried, holding her baby in her arms. Countless times she said she didn't want kids… Yet there she was, looking like the happiest woman in the world. Without you.

And you without her! Happy in your solitude, the perfect return to your writing career, except for that one small, insignificant detail. It was all fine as long as you kept running because with every step: all those stupid things grew more distant from you.

Well…

Which actually didn’t make sense.

You were running in circles.

And just when you were about to complete the second semicircle around the lake (man, you must have been really into that solo from Shine On Your Crazy Diamond not to notice earlier), something reflected inside the lake, blinding your vision. You stopped running to see what it was and had to squint to see clearly; truth be told, it took a while for you to believe there was someone swimming alone in the lake at the far end from where you stopped running. You thought it could be anything else, but well, you weren't blind yet. The person had long hair, which could be black, dark brown, or even light brown, darkened by being wet. And you were almost sure it was a man. Thinking with common sense, no woman would be swimming alone in a cold lake in the middle of the forest. Maybe in a teen horror movie where a hot young girl lures a guy or a group of them into a deadly ambush; complete with over 30 minutes of explicit violence, numerous creative deaths, and lots and lots of nudity. You wouldn’t buy the ticket, but you’d watch it on some streaming service on a random night. Thankfully, something like that would never happen in real life. Right?

You paused the music and looked around. There was no one else nearby, and the lake was completely silent, the person swimming slowly and stealthily, like a crocodile — ah, I get it! The person was diving constantly in the lake, which explained why you hadn’t seen them easily.

You resumed running, determined to turn the second semicircle into a full circle. Maybe you’d interact with the person in the lake if you got the chance, but you didn’t think it was a good idea to deliberately bother them in the middle of their dives. You also avoided looking too much at the lake, knowing that person must have noticed your presence from the beginning, so you just decided to ignore the unusual situation and go on with your life.

You completed the second circle by passing by the diving person, but it was nearly impossible not to sneak a glance. That’s when you saw on the lake’s shore some clothes that looked — holy shit! — feminine.

And, of course, the fucking phone that reflected the sunlight in your face.

Your fear grew as your eyes identified each piece. Sweatshirt, jeans, sandals…bra…panties…

This woman couldn't possibly be naked, could she?

Splish!

She suddenly emerged to the surface, tossing her hair back and wiping the excess water droplets from her face. Her breath was heavy as she filled her lungs with oxygen again. The sight was as strange as it was beautiful, like a painting with indecipherable forms, a mirage in an oasis.

“It can't be… Damn it! No, it can't be!” you stammered, your mind going blank.

“Hi, dear! Isn’t it a shame we always meet in such cold weather?” Sana asked, excited to see you. “You’re sweating a lot, huh? Why don’t you stop for a bit and come swim with me?”

She was submerged up to her shoulders, and the faint sunlight piercing through the gray clouds penetrated the lake’s surface, creating a vision of pure delirium. Through the clear water, you saw Sana’s body, refracted and distorted by the rippling surface. Her arms moved gracefully, and each movement seemed amplified and softened by the water. The ripples created a hypnotizing effect, making parts of her body appear to change shape and size. It was as if Sana was wrapped in a cloak of liquid glass, the details of her body dancing and fragmenting into kaleidoscopic patterns. You were mesmerized by the sight, and your mind, often too associative for your liking (a lapse consequent of your work), made you compare Sana to-

“Calypso!” you suddenly said. “You look like some kind of freshwater Calypso. Beautiful and terribly lonely here in this lake.”

You weren’t flirting, just trying not to show the mortal fear you felt at that moment. A mere defense mechanism.

“And you are like Ulysses. You seem not to have been content with my love,” she said. “But unlike him, you don’t have another woman waiting for you far from here. So you have no reason to run from me.”

You squatted to observe her closely. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but watch her, fascinated — perhaps her naked body contributed to it.

“Actually, Sana, you’re more like a limnatide, you know? Those are the nymphs that inhabit lakes. Salmacis was a limnatide."

“You’re so smart. I never get tired of hearing you talk,” she said casually, just to please you. “But who is Salmacis? I don’t remember her.”

“Oh, you know, she’s the one who raped and cursed Hermaphroditus by merging their bodies into one,” you explained and saw her smile fade. A small victory. Standing up again, you asked, “What the hell are you doing here? And how did you find me?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” she said, running her hand through the water, making it ripple.

“You know I can call the police, right?”

“And what will they arrest me for?” she asked, seeming very amused by the situation.

“Stalking.”

“And what are your proofs, darling?”

“I have witnesses who can testify they saw you at the book launch. It’ll be easy to prove since your name was on the list. At the very least, they’ll find it odd we meet again in a new location almost 2,000 km from where we were before.”

“Is that all?” she asked, laughing. “Honey, I think you don’t know how things work. And the proof of a real threat? You can also add the security camera footage from the hallway, where they can see me entering your room at night and leaving only in the afternoon the next day. That will help you a lot, Mr. Integrity,” she flashed you a smug smile that made you look away for a moment, because it was beautiful, Sana was beautiful, and you were very angry with her at that moment.

“You know it’s illegal to swim naked, right? This isn’t a damn nudist beach.”

Sana squinted and smiled; she was really enjoying this argument or whatever the hell this conversation was.

“I thought I was being accused of stalking, now it’s public indecency?” she questioned, caricaturingly putting her finger on her chin. “Look, I think you even have better chances with the second option, although it probably won’t result in anything substantial. I can already imagine my defense saying something like,” She cleared her throat and changed her posture. Simulating a formal tone, she continued: “‘I do not understand that the accused, with her conduct, intended to shock and violate the decorum of the man who witnessed the scene. In my view, the defendant was bathing to refresh herself, however, she did so in a place exposed to the public, though remote, once she believed she was alone at that moment due to the cold weather, which was not inviting to most people, besides the popular hunting season had not started on the date of the incident.’ And I can go on: ‘despite having taken the risk of being seen naked, I see the defendant’s conduct as naive, with no offense to be punished under the law, as she did not commit any obscene gesture.’ And it can get better, look-”

“I get it!” You exclaimed, irritated. “You’re very smart, Sana. I admit that. But know that anything reckless you do will be used against you in court.”

Her expression seemed to change a little.

“I was acting like a peacock, dear. I just wanted to show you my hidden feathers. Believe me, I don’t want us to get to that point.”

“But seriously, where the hell are you staying? It’s 12 km from here to the nearest town and I haven’t seen any tire marks around except my pickup’s.”

“I have a cabin nearby.”

Hearing that, you swallowed hard. It was fucking difficult to keep your head in place in this kind of situation, you simply didn’t know what to think. Simply didn’t know.

As if this insanity wasn’t enough, Sana did nothing to help by displaying her small and delicate body, a structure that seemed almost sculpted at first glance. Her build was slender, with subtle curves that accentuated her femininity without exaggeration. Her skin was smooth as porcelain, slightly pale and flawless, with a natural glow that captured the light like a deity.

Her shoulders were narrow, gracefully shaping into thin arms and delicate hands. Her breasts, though small, were perfectly proportioned, firm and slightly lifted, complementing the harmony of her torso. Her belly was smooth and flat, leading to a finely chiseled waist that gently widened to form narrow hips.

Sana’s legs were long in proportion to her body, slender and well-toned, ending in small, delicate feet. These details were still clear in your mind. One night had been enough to capture a bit of her essence. Writer’s habit.

“That’s a lie. There’s no cabin nearby. I would know.”

“It’s true. Don’t you want to go there with me? I can prepare a picnic basket and we can eat here by the lake. Like our own blue lagoon. Isn’t it cute?”

That was too much for you.

The laugh escaped your mouth like a cough, compulsively laughing in front of her.

'Just because what he says is funny doesn’t mean he’s not serious.'

“Sana, you know there are companies eyeing this lake, right? They want to buy the surrounding area to stock fish in that water and make a fucking recreational fishing park.”

“In that case, it would be epic to fight against the privatization of this lake together. Like a couple of activists.”

“Take it easy, Yoko Ono,” you said while thinking about what to do. The fatigue made everything harder. You asked as sincerely as possible, “You’re not going to kill me, are you?”

“I’m as sad as you are, but this was the only way for us to have some time alone. Give me a chance to explain everything and I—”

“What’s your last name?”

“What?”

“What’s your last name?” you asked, irritated. Maybe the direct approach wasn’t the best option, but you were incredibly impatient.

“Please, let’s have dinner at your cabin tonight,” she said, completely ignoring your question. “I’ll explain everything. You’ll get to know the real me. You’ll know my last name and much more. I just don’t want you to be afraid of me. Please.”

“It’s hard not to be afraid when everything you do is the most psychopathic thing a human could do.”

“You don’t understand. It’s hard for me. I don’t know how to act like other people, but I’m trying. There are so many little social conventions that are hard to remember.”

“How did you know about the perfume my ex-wife wore? Fuck, I was so stupid to think it was all just a blessed coincidence!”

“You mentioned it in an old interview. The question was: ‘Is there a smell that brings you good memories?’ and you answered that it was that perfume. The one your ex-wife wore since your first date. The dress… There were pictures of her next to you wearing it.”

“You’re a freak, Sana.”

“Wait! Let me fix this.”

She started swimming towards the shore.

“Stay away from me!”

Sana stopped.

“I’m alone in this world, and I have nothing to lose,” she suddenly confessed. “I literally have no one. Except for you.”

“You don’t have me! You never did. You don’t even know me, Sana! You made this up in your head. You need help, do you understand? You need a lot of help!”

“I just need you... Wait, where are you going?!”

“To town! I swear to God, if I see you again, I’ll call the police.I don't give a fuck what I'll need to do to prove you’re a danger.” You spoke, then turned your back and started walking away from the lake.

Then, in the distance, Sana called your name. You shouldn’t have looked. But you turned towards her again, Sana walking slowly in the land, every drop of water lazily trailing down her curves, as if even nature wanted to feel her.

“I have nothing to lose!” she repeated the warning. It was a warning from the very beginning.

And that vision was dangerous evidence: Sana’s body was exactly as you remembered.

The smell of damp earth mingling with the freshness of the surrounding trees. The dirt road stretched out before you, winding between tall trunks and dense branches that formed a natural tunnel. The crunch of the wheels on the gravel and the sound of the old pickup truck’s engine echoed as the only constant sound in the forest, occasionally interrupted by the distant call of a bird or the cry of a small mammal.

As you progressed, the trees began to thin out, leaving larger gaps between them. The sunlight, once filtered through the canopy, had disappeared, giving way to a light rain. The dirt road turned into a narrow paved highway, with the dense vegetation replaced by open fields.

On the horizon, spaced-out farms began to appear, with wooden fences marking pastures where cows and horses grazed lazily. The sky grew darker. Rows of rain-laden clouds marched towards you, and sporadic thunder sounded like war drums. The highway, now straighter, ran parallel to rows of crops that stretched as far as the eye could see. The landscape was dominated by shades of green and gold, occasionally punctuated by red silos and barns.

A few kilometers ahead, the first signs of the town emerged. A small gas station, a grocery store, and a few modest houses lined the road, signaling the approach to the urban area. The main road led directly to the center of the rural town, where life seemed to move at a slower pace.

You drove to the hardware and auto parts store, parked your old pickup truck, and looked both ways before entering the store, the feeling of being watched now believable enough to heed what you previously considered paranoia. There was only a short, elderly man in the store, paying for his purchases and leaving. You walked to the counter to speak with the attendant, a young guy with acne, poor posture, and a cap with the store’s name on it that didn’t fit properly on his head.

“Good afternoon, bro. Tony’s Hardware and Auto Parts. How can I help you?”

“Are you Tony?” you asked, skeptical.

“Nah, man. Tony’s my uncle, I’m Johnny.”

“Okay, Johnny. I need an air filter for a generator.”

“Sure thing. Do you have a sample of the air filter?”

You put the piece on the counter, and Johnny looked at it for a moment, then went to the shelves behind him and spent two minutes searching for the right model.

“Here it is, man. All set!”

“Thanks. Look, I was having issues with the spark plugs in the generator. Yesterday, it took several tries to start it. Then I opened the generator and saw the spark plugs were a bit dirty, I cleaned them, and it started working again, but the generator isn’t running at full power. Do you think the problem could still be the spark plugs?”

“Hmm, could be, buddy. I’m no expert, unfortunately.”

“Also, it’s consuming more fuel than it should.”

“Hmm, yeah, sounds like it could be the spark plugs. I’d recommend buying new ones and replacing them, just to be safe.”

“Do you think I can do this without fucking up the generator?"

“Just shut everything down and don’t go touching random wires. I trust you.” Johnny said, giving you a false sense of confidence.

“Look, you seem like a smart guy.” Actually, he seemed kind of dumb, but he had the profile you were looking for. “Do you know if it’s easy for someone to hack a person?”

“Ah, man, I don’t know anything about that stuff. My brother’s the tech guy. But, I mean, it depends on who this someone is.”

“Someone very dedicated and willing to learn, let’s say.”

“In that case, they could spend hours on internet forums reading about it, man. The information is out there for anyone, no lie.”

“So, hacking someone remotely isn’t too difficult, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And if you had physical access to their devices for a while?”

“Oh man, that’d be a piece of cake! There are some programs you can install on someone’s computer or phone that stay hidden among the files, like a virus, and this software sends a link that opens a page with all your folders for the hacker to access remotely… wait a second,” he said, his expression changing suddenly, “is someone hacking you, or are you trying to hack someone?!”

“The first one.”

“Ah, what a relief. I mean, damn, man, that sucks! You should, like, go to the police or something, right?”

“Right now, I don’t think the police can actually solve my problem. I don’t want to do anything rash,” you tried to explain. “By the way, have you seen any Asian girl, also not from around here, walking around town?”

“Look, man, you can bet if there was a hot Asian girl around here, I’d know.”

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, and Johnny leaned over the counter to listen. “Can you and your brother look up some info about someone online for me? I’ll pay you.”

“Hey, man, that sounds shady as hell. I don’t know about that.”

“I’m not the creepy one here. There’s a girl, and she’s, like, an obsessed fan of mine. Somehow she found out I was here and followed me. She’s probably at some hotel in town, and I’m staying in a cabin near Crystal Lake. I need to know how dangerous she is. But I couldn’t find anything when I searched her name.”

“Bro, don’t be crazy, call the cops already!”

“The police won’t do anything efficient without solid proof of a real threat. If I involve the authorities, she might get pissed and easily bypass any protective measures just to, you know, get revenge.”

“Wait, if she’s a fan, then you’re famous, right?” he connected the dots, the genius. “I think I’ve seen you in some action movie…”

“I’m not an actor. I just write stories.”

“Oh man, you’re a writer, bro? That’s so cool! Are you friends with Stephen King?”

“Friend is a strong word. We’ve exchanged ideas at a conference.”

“Damn!!” he exclaimed. You could predict what was to come. “Look, I’m shaking, I’m such a fan of his, man! I’ve seen almost all the adaptations of his books. Can you get an autograph from the master?!”

“If you do what I asked, I can try.”

“Deal.”

You shook hands, and the devil knew this wasn’t the best of alliances.

I won't find anything better than this in this place.

“Damn, man! I just remembered I don’t have any of his books at home. I’ll need to buy one.”

“I’ll get you one.”

“Cool. Don’t worry about paying, I’ll cover it. I won’t screw you over or anything. So, buy the It book, it's my favorite film of the adaptations of his books.”

“Alright, alright! Forget about that for now. The girl’s name is Sana, keep it in your memory.”

“Got it. Do you have a picture of her or something? My brother will need a face to know if he found the right person."

You had deleted all those selfies she took with your phone while you slept, but there were still the photos from the book launch, where everyone gathered for a group photo. You took your phone out of your pocket and selected the best picture, Sana was way in the back, she knew how to be discreet when she wanted, you zoomed in on her face and showed it to Johnny.

“Holy shit man! She’s really hot! Look, I wouldn’t mind having a girl like that spicing up my life,” he joked, but you didn’t laugh along.

“Give me your Instagram, I’ll send you this photo so you don’t forget her face."

And he did so.

“When I get some info, I’ll message you.”

“Is your brother trustworthy? You better not fuck with me, okay?”

“Hey, man, you can count on me. I can see the exhaustion in your eyes. My brother is solid. Actually, I’d like to ask you one more thing besides King’s autograph. So, me and my brother have a podcast, it’s about movies and stuff, if you could give it a shoutout, speak highly of it, it’d be awesome. We’re getting close to 100 concurrent viewers during live streams, man. It’s growing nicely.”

You looked for the joke, but even Johnny wasn’t laughing this time. You were really desperate to go through with this.

“Alright.”

“And look, if you do that, it’ll mean a lot. It’s almost like a pact, you know, we’d never screw over someone who helped our podcast, you know? So you can feel safe with this. For real.”

“Fine, Johnny. I’ll trust you.”

“Oh, one more thing!” You tried not to roll your eyes. “You said you’re staying in a cabin near the lake, right? I recommend you buy everything you need, especially fuel to keep the generator running, because you might get stuck there for a while. There’s a hell of a storm coming, and when that happens, that road gets all muddy and almost impossible to drive on, and with that pickup of yours,” he pointed through the store window where your truck was parked, “you’re not going anywhere until the rain stops. That’s why no one stays in that area during the rainy season. You got unlucky.”

“Damn, I should’ve rented a better car. I thought this one would do the job.”

“Sometimes humility is our downfall, bro… Hey, that was a damn good line, you should write it down for one of your books. Consider it a gift.”

“Uh-huh. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll stop at the gas station and buy some gas cans.”

“Alright. When my shift ends, I’ll go home and tell my brother everything, he’ll do some digging on your fan. Maybe we’ll find some police records or something, who knows, maybe a lawsuit she’s involved in. I’ll get something for you, man. Trust me.”

You were starting to regret this idea.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, got it?”

“The secret between friends dies with the friends. Take care.”

You paid for the air filter and spark plugs, then left the store. As you got in the car, Johnny waved at you through the store window. Everything happened too fast for you to realize the level of recklessness you’d inflicted, but, damn, there were no manuals teaching how to deal with this kind of situation. Either way, you didn’t have a good feeling, and it was hard to tell if it was a bad omen or just fatigue. The roads would soon be messed up, and once you returned to the cabin, you might not be able to leave for a while.

Was it a sign from the universe or just bad luck?

Well, whatever it was, you still needed gas.

The trip to town had been frustrating but necessary, as thanks to Johnny's warning, you managed to stock up on gasoline for the generator. And food, of course. If everything you bought wasn't enough, then you would resort to self-cannibalization while writing an essay about the experience to be published posthumously. Now, the truly frustrating part of the trip had been your search for Sana. You looked for her in the tiny hotels, inns, hostels, and even motels. Fortunately, the town was small and there weren't many lodging options. Most of the conversations with the receptionists went like this:

“Good afternoon. I’m looking for a friend of mine, Sana. Is she staying here by any chance?”

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m sorry, but we can’t disclose information about our guests for privacy reasons.”

“I understand. It’s just that she’s not answering her phone, and I’m worried. Could you at least confirm if she’s checked in recently?”

“I really can’t confirm if someone is staying here, but I can try to help in another way. What’s her full name?”

Here is where you’d seem like the most suspicious guy in the lobby:

“Look, it’s funny, I always forget her full name. The last name is difficult to remember, and I’m not really good with names in general. But there can't be many women named Sana around here, right? I just want to know if she’s okay.”

When you gave this flimsy excuse, the receptionists would give you a very judgmental look.

“Let me check something for you. Just a moment.”

Then they’d start checking the system. Or pretend to.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t provide that information. However, if she left any message for you or indicated she was expecting someone, I can let you know. Leave your name and contact here.”

“I understand, thank you. Actually, I’ll keep trying to call her. Sooner or later she’ll have to answer, right? Thanks again for your help.”

You and the receptionist would exchange an awkward smile, and you’d leave knowing she was watching you from afar.

Leaving your information at receptions would only plant evidence of you stalking Sana, and just God knows how things would go if that ended up in court. Besides, if Sana were really staying in one of these places, she would never contact you. It was pretty clear that wouldn’t work, but you had to try anyway. The idea of Sana being in another cabin in the forest was inadmissible and didn’t make sense to you. During the days you spent in your cabin and wandered around the surroundings, you didn't notice any smell of food being prepared, no human noise, no footprints, no trash. But... she had invited you to her cabin, which you logically refused. There might be some kind of trap waiting for you there; you couldn’t trust her. The most plausible thing then was that Sana's cabin was relatively far from yours, hidden and camouflaged in the dense forest. Your mind elaborated a thousand and one theories as you returned to the comfort (not so comfortable now) of your home.

Then an absurd idea crossed your mind and you caught it with your hand, while the first drops of rain hit the car's windshield.

Night fell over the forest with the storm.

It took you a little over an hour to change the air filter and the spark plugs, but when you finished, the feeling of satisfaction at hearing the generator's engine purr like an orange kitten made you smile, cutting through some of the tension that was stiffening not only your muscles but also your spirit.

A big thank you to YouTube tutorials.

Anyway, the joy was short-lived, the raincoat you were wearing felt like a black shroud given to those summoned to explore the borders of hell. You needed to find out if there was indeed another cabin near yours. It was safer to go during the day, but you couldn’t risk Sana seeing you. Who knows, maybe there was some surveillance equipment in her cabin, although it was unlikely to keep such a thing running 24 hours with just a simple generator. But images of you sneaking around her cabin would be all Sana needed to blackmail you.

What the fuck am I doing…?

Where were the boundaries between your pragmatism and your neurosis?

You thought that by the time you figured it out, it would be too late.

With one hand you were holding the flashlight, with the other you opened the cabin door.

As you ventured deeper into the forest, your anxiety grew in a pulsing manner, like a parasite inside you, but a good parasite, pulsing in your temple telling you to turn back. What lay ahead were trees, trees, trees, and more trees. No sign of a cabin.

The forest was nothing more than a labyrinth of shadows. You advanced with uncertain steps, the flashlight trembling in your hand. The rustling of leaves sounded like distant laughter. You looked back, but the darkness had already swallowed the way back. If there was a cabin, you should have found it by now. There was no sign of an open field where a cabin or any structure could be placed. Your heart beat erratically, in a sudden delirium you wondered if you were alone or if someone was watching you. The forest closed in around you, it was hard to admit it, shit, it was terrifying to admit that you were lost. Your breath quickened as the cold bit into your skin, rationally, the despair set in. Then the flashlight in your hand flickered, the weak light trembled like a candle about to go out.

No, no, no!

You pressed the button repeatedly, but the beam of light weakened even more. The uncertain steps made your foot encounter something solid on the ground. You stumbled and fell. The pain was sharp enough to know that the injury was serious, at least given the situation you were in. After all, what the hell was that? A twisted root? A rock? It didn’t matter, it wouldn’t change the fact that now your left ankle was sending you jolts of pain, and standing up was torture, making you hate Sana with all your might. Limping in the middle of the dark forest like a stupid clown. You were tremendously irritated, an unexpected urge to drink seized you.

I could drink and die right after. I’d give anything for that. Fuck this life!

Suddenly, your hearing sharpened when you heard a terribly high-pitched sound coming from behind you. Screaming, screaming, screaming, calling you. It sounded like a… Whistle? It couldn’t get any better. Maybe a soccer match was going on nearby and you were the idiot who didn’t buy a ticket. The whistle seemed to have a life of its own, it was continuous. Well, someone was killing their lungs trying to save you. Either that, or the witch of the forest was whistling in a very, very weird way. You followed the direction of the incessant whistle, except for the regular pauses for whoever was whistling to catch their breath. Sporadic lightning occasionally revealed the way for you, giving you glimpses of a trail you had already traveled, although, the way it was shown – fleeting and blurred by the wet lenses of your glasses – seemed more like hallucinations in your head. But you had to believe you were returning to your cabin. The whistle. The call.

It was Sana, wasn’t it?

A lightning bolt flashed across the sky like at a large outdoor festival, in the distance, still through the trees, you saw your cabin flicker in the dazzling light.

The whistle sounded like a gesture of despair.

The trees gradually spaced out, the surroundings became more visible, the ground less uneven, you were out of the dense forest, your flashlight failing as it tried to illuminate in a single beam of light the figure of the girl dressed in a long dress, holding an umbrella with one hand and a whistle with the other, looking like a character straight out of a Koreeda film.

You walked up to her, your left foot practically dragging on the ground, you couldn’t think of anything to say, the anger being crushed by gratitude, the fury devouring the complacency alive, the urge to cry usurping the relief.

“Let’s go inside!” exclaimed Sana urgently, sharing the umbrella with you as you both rushed to the cabin (well, you tried).

The door opened with a dry snap. You exhaled like a dying horse, throwing yourself onto the cabin floor to lie down, practically your white flag against the wild nature. You didn’t want to think about anything. There was nothing to think about. There was no reason to think. You’d been doing that your whole life and were tired of it. You wanted to throw your brain away. Pull the back of your head like a damn mailbox and remove that electrified ball of flesh. There had to be a way to make it stop thinking.

Well, there was a way, but it was, let’s say, off-key.

You started to get up, your damn ankle sending you jolts of pain to remind you of your stupidity. You looked at Sana, beautiful, while you: destroyed.

“There’s no cabin, is there, Sana?” you asked, pronouncing each word slowly, trying to space out the anger you felt. But it was hard. God, how hard it was.

“I’m sorry!” she said, crying. Fuck, she was already crying. “I didn’t think it would go this far. I can explain everything. I’m sorry! You were out for so long! I was so worried about you. Are you hurt? My God, I’m sorry!” she repeated, screaming.

“Get out of my cabin. Now!”

There you were, throwing her out again.

“Please, no…”

“I said I’d call the police if this happened again. Get out, you psychopath!” you yelled at her, and Sana stepped back, scared.

You approached her in a threatening manner, making her walk backward, cautiously, and with each step she got closer to the door. Before she realized it, she was at the doorway.

“You better disappear before the police show up,” you warned her, and then slammed the door shut with brute force.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. What a day. Everything fell apart so quickly that you didn't have time to see where you went wrong. Now 3% calmer, you noticed that the kitchen table was set, hot food, candles, the fireplace warm, two glasses, and a bottle of Coca-Cola (no wine for Mr. Writer). She had prepared dinner while you were facing the two longest hours of your life. Spaghetti carbonara. That's what it seemed like, at least. A relatively quick dish to prepare if you had made it before. The smell was great, the ambiance emphatically comfortable while the world outside was collapsing. It seemed intentional: a terribly cold end-of-the-world assaulting the planet and you denied shelter to one of God's angels. Even if she might be Lucifer's younger sister

Oh, come on, I'm not like that. She didn't deserve to die from hypothermia or whatever the hell.

You took off that stupid raincoat and went back to the door, leaned your head against the wood before deciding if you were actually going to open it or not. The primary mistake was opening the hotel room door that day, and here you were, repeating — now aware of what would happen — the same mistake, about to formalize a new heuristic pattern. And, fuck, it was really funny how one event could trigger another totally random one.

You saw Sana's face light up when the door opened, the glow of the lamps behind you reflecting in her brown eyes. She hadn't moved an inch since you expelled her. Because she already knew you would open it again or because she didn't know where to go?

"Come in before you catch a cold," you said, extending your hand into the cabin.

She seemed slightly confused by your kindness but entered immediately.

You asked her to sit on the couch while you quickly walked to the bedroom and grabbed two towels. You wrapped her body with the bath towel and started drying her hair with the face towel.

"Sorry, I don't have a hairdryer."

"It's okay. Thank you."

Sana's makeup was running down her face, a sad sight, but somehow, it became incredibly erotic on that precious face. Two beautiful lines running below her eyes, the mixture of eyeshadow and mascara, as if Sana had cried tears of dark indigo. A living portrait where the artist displayed his tragedy.

"Excuse me," you asked, and she allowed you to dry her face, cleaning one corner and smudging the makeup even more in another. "Why do you have a whistle?"

"Hmm, i found it here."

"Really? Well, it's actually the least weird thing that happened today."

"I saw you limping," she said, her voice still wary, like a child who knows they've done wrong and now has to face their parents. "Are you okay?"

"It's my fucking ankle. I think I tripped over some exposed root or something. I must have twisted it."

You hadn't taken off your boots yet to see the damage. After drying Sana's face, that's what you did and — oh boy —, it wasn't a pretty thing to see.

"Let me check," said Sana, kneeling with difficulty because of her dress. "It's quite swollen and red; it might turn purple. I'm going to press a little, okay?"

You gave permission, and the slightest touch made you groan and sigh, and maybe you were starting to go crazy because the pain that pulsed from your ankle was terribly pleasurable and stimulating, seeming healthy to self-inflict for your own satisfaction, like scratching a persistent itch. But you weren't quite insane enough to enjoy that kind of thing.

"I don't know where to start treating my ankle," you admitted, frustrated.

"Where's the first aid kit?"

"In one of those cabinets," you pointed to the kitchen.

Sana got up and went over to rummage through the cabinets. She soon found the small white box with a red cross on the lid. Sana opened the freezer and took out a bag of ice, grabbed some cubes, and wrapped them in a cloth, bringing everything back to the couch. Sana gently took your leg and raised it, placing it on a pillow on the coffee table.

"Open the kit and look for a painkiller," Sana said while holding the makeshift ice pack on your ankle. "Take ibuprofen if there's any."

Fortunately, there was.

"How long do you think it will take to heal?"

"It wasn't a severe sprain. Maybe two weeks. One, if you behave and take care of it."

"Are you a nurse?"

"No, but I took some classes on 'how to be a functional human being and survive in society.' Oh, do you need water to swallow the pill?" You shook your head. "Believe me, where I came from, I needed those classes. They just didn't teach us much about medications. For safety."

"You're my Annie Wilkes, I guess. But more attractive than Kathy Bates, at least." You joked, and the bitter sarcasm felt much like the taste of a horrible medicine you needed to take to endure the moment.

Sana chuckled, but she was still focused on her task.

"Don't be silly, I'm not going to keep you here or anything like that. I'll take care of you. It's my fault you got hurt, after all," she sadly admitted. Apparently, psychopathy wasn't her problem. Sociopathy, maybe. "I suppose you don't have a crutch here in the cabin," she said while rummaging through the first aid kit. "Tomorrow I can buy one... Oh, look, this elastic bandage will do for now." She showed you the small roll of bandage with a gentle smile.

"I wouldn't count on going to town tomorrow. With this rain, the road will be impassable. We're stuck here," Was it safe to pass this information to Sana? After all, you still didn't know her true intentions.

"Oh, I kind of suspected that. So, in that case, we'll improvise a stick for you tomorrow morning. We have plenty of wood at our disposal. Well, now I'll bandage your foot. This might hurt a little, but it will help," she warned, unrolling the bandage.

Holding your foot with one hand, Sana started wrapping the bandage firmly around your ankle, starting at the base of your toes and moving towards the heel.

As she worked, she made sure the bandage was snug but not too tight to avoid cutting off circulation. "I need you to tell me if you feel too much pressure or pain," she said, focused on what she was doing.

You smiled without realizing it. Her serious expression while focusing on the task was actually very cute. She had agile and gentle hands, and her care not to hurt you was evident.

Sana continued wrapping the bandage, overlapping the wraps evenly, creating stable compression around the swollen ankle. When she reached halfway up your calf, she secured the end of the bandage with the clips provided in the kit.

"Done," she said, observing her work. "Now we need to keep this elevated and continue applying ice. It will help reduce the swelling," she informed you, putting the makeshift ice pack back on your ankle. "We'll do this every few hours, 20 minutes at a time."

"You're incredible," slipped out of your mouth. You shouldn't be encouraging her. But you were voluntarily doing so.

"It was nothing. Now, I think we have some things to talk about, don't we?"

You smiled with your lips, a humble smile of Tiredness. Or a smile of defeat, like someone who, with a certain pride, acknowledges their weakness towards something or someone. In your case, it was her. Sana.

You patted your thighs and sighed. Was there anything else to do, after all?

"Bring the spaghetti over here. I'm not going anywhere.”

Terribly fascinated you were. Maybe it was too early to say 'terribly enchanted'. You were enveloped by the long, deep, melodramatic lull that was Sana's past. Slightly distressed to know how it all happened until it triggered the moment where you both were, but it was necessary for the story to be told from the beginning to fully understand the impulsive acts of this girl - this fan - passionately obsessed with you.

Oh, and by the way, the spaghetti was good. But a bit cold.

You looked at Sana, melancholic and distant while she watched the flames in the fireplace. She had gone to the bathroom to wash her face properly. Now with a clean face, nothing was covering it. Determined to delve into her wound for you.

“First of all, my last name is Minatozaki,” she said, in a mere attempt to break the ice. You told her it was a beautiful last name. “I was 11 years old when everything started to fall apart,” she began in earnest. “My mother suffered from severe depression. She was always absent, even when she was present, if that makes sense.”

“It does make sense,” you commented. “And your father?”

“My father was a ghost, always working. He never had time for me. Soon I started to feel invisible, as if I didn’t matter. Then the anger started growing inside me. I became more and more impulsive and aggressive,” Sana paused. She looked at you, as if to make sure you were really listening. “They didn’t know what to do with me. The school couldn’t handle my behavior. The breaking point was when I pushed a classmate down the stairs over some silly argument. I don’t even remember the reason anymore, just that she broke her leg. That’s when they decided to institutionalize me.”

“Damn… That must have been terrible for such a young child.”

“It was. At first, I hated being there. The psychiatric hospital was a cold and strange place. The atmosphere forced to be welcoming, it was an expensive hospital after all, but if you’re there alone, it’s terribly distressing. I felt isolated from the world. The other kids had similar problems, but no one really connected. Everyone was fighting their own battles there.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind Sana’s ear and then asked:

“And what was your routine like there?”

“We had classes inside the hospital. There were teachers, but the classes were small. They tried to adapt the teaching to our needs, but I always felt like I was missing something, you know? The occupational therapies and the playful activities helped pass the time, but it was never enough to fill the void.”

“I imagine. And the treatments?”

You didn’t realize it, but there was a calmness and kindness in your voice that motivated her to continue.

“At first, they diagnosed me with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. I was always provoking the adults, causing trouble. But as I grew older, my symptoms evolved. In adolescence, I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. My emotions were a roller coaster. I felt empty, but at the same time, any small thing could trigger a storm inside me.”

“It must have been a constant battle.”

“It was. They tried everything to control my anger and impulsiveness. Psychotherapy, behavioral therapy, medication... Every day was a struggle to stay stable. I was always being watched, always under surveillance. I had few chances to feel really free. Over time, my parents’ visits decreased. Not that I cared, we were never close anyway. The only things that brought me some relief were books. And that’s how I discovered you.”

“Me?” You swallowed hard. “Well, sooner or later we’d get to that.”

“Yes. Your books were an escape for me. I read and reread every word, trying to find some meaning, some connection with myself. When you wrote about pain, about loneliness, I felt like you understood exactly what I was going through. Catarina, the protagonist of your first book, when she attempted suicide and was hospitalized… That story changed me… But not all of your books were allowed for us.”

“It’s understandable, God knows how many triggers that could unleash in vulnerable people. But wait, how did you get my books then?”

“There was a doctor, Dr. Collins. She sympathized with me. I think she saw something in me that others didn’t. She brought me your books secretly, even those considered too sensitive for patients like me. Besides, she managed to get teen magazines where you were interviewed. The questions were trivial, but for me, every detail about you was a treasure.”

With a slight smile, you said:

“I was contractually obliged by the publisher to do those things. I don’t dare to flip through any of those magazines nowadays,” You saw Sana’s face soften a bit. “So, Dr. Collins was your accomplice, right?”

“In a way, yes. She also knew I tried to listen to your radio show. There were nights when I stayed up late, trying to fix the signal on the old hospital radio to hear you talk about movies with your friend. Sometimes, I even managed to hear a full episode without missing anything.”

You held her hand. A gesture that made you uneasy, but Sana’s response by squeezing your hand made it seem right.

“I never imagined my books and other nonsense I did could have such an impact.”

“They did. I wasn’t joking when I said that day that you were my peace of mind. But anyway, my parents died in an accident shortly before I left the hospital. I was the only one to inherit their estate. Living in society I found myself lost and lonely again. I tried to find someone like you, but no one was enough. They all disappointed me. They were older, like you, but they just wanted to use me. I hate admitting this part of my life, but I slept with several men hoping to find one who made me feel what you made me feel. It didn’t work, so that’s when I decided I needed to find you, needed to somehow make you understand.”

Your gaze shifted from hers. Terribly melodramatic for your taste, terribly visceral, and terribly your complacency acted without your command.

“And now we’re here. And I finally start to understand the depth of what you went through, Sana. I'm sorry about your parents, I had no idea. What a fucking journey you lived..."

She gave you a sad smile.

They were the beautiful eyes of a tragedy looking at you.

“Yes, we’re here. And maybe, now that you know I’m not a monster, we can really get to know each other.”

The hand of reason tugged at your ear. Was this beautiful, seemingly vulnerable girl manipulating you again?

Either way, there were still loose ends.

“And at the book launch, when you appeared… Your dress, the perfume… Everything so intentional… Why did you do that, Sana?”

She looked down, embarrassed.

“I planned everything. I wanted you to notice me, to see me as someone special. I thought if I wore the same dress and perfume as your ex-wife, I could make you feel the same as you did for her. It was a desperate way to try to get your attention, to make you fall in love with me like you did with her. I know it sounds crazy, but… I was willing to do anything for you to notice me.”

“Sana, that is…” What was that? So many layers, so many branches, you didn’t know what you were feeling anymore. You didn’t know how to judge. Even having written troubled, depressed characters, the real bastards, you never approached from a psychoanalytic perspective. You were just a person writing other people. It was never your place to judge your characters’ actions. It was never your place to judge anyone. “I understand a little better now, Sana. You just wanted to be seen, to be loved.”

A sudden desperation took hold of her.

“And you’re the only person I felt could really understand that! That’s why I did what I did. I didn’t want to scare you, I just wanted you to see me.”

You wanted a drink of something. Your throat dry in that cold weather. God, how a whiskey would be nice. Just one glass. Maybe two. Why not? You asked Sana to serve you a little more of that damn Coke. Your eyes were a little heavy, the train of thought slightly losing the objective.

Oh, more questions…

"you were bluffing when you invited me to your cabin, correct?"

"That's right. I knew you would never agree to go there with me. My real plan was to have dinner together, and slowly I would explain everything to you. Like now."

“But Sana, I need you to explain to me: if there’s no other cabin, where the hell have you been all this time? I swear to God you were scaring the shit out of me. I went to several lodges but couldn’t get any information about you. Then suddenly you show up here at night like out of nowhere. I hope that psychiatric hospital isn’t really the fucking Xavier Institute.”

“I’ve been here the whole time, silly. Watching you,” hearing that sent chills down your spine. “Sorry, I know it sounded weird. Just kidding. But it’s actually kind of true.”

“Are you a ghost or something?”

“I’ve been hiding in the basement.”

But what the hell is she talking about?

“Sana, this cabin doesn’t have a basement.”

“Did Mr. Goss tell you that?”

Jesus fucking Christ, she never stopped surprising.

“How do you know the name of the former owner?” you asked, trying to disguise the fear on your face.

“The night we slept together… You know I took your phone. I checked everything that might be important. I saw your emails about the cabin documentation and all that. At the same moment, I looked for nearby cabins I could rent, but there were none available. Well, the original listing was still active, it was favorited in your browser. The description didn’t mention anything about a basement, nor did the documentation. Since it was so well camouflaged and without hiring an inspector, you would never find out.

"And how did you know?"

"I was watching that interview you did for Book Tools that happened shortly after our first meeting. You mentioned you were planning to go on vacation and write a bit in nature, but you were going to delay it a month to get better organized."

"I guess I'll never comment on my personal life again. Holy shit..."

"Well, I decided to take advantage of that time and see your cabin before you did. It was easy to find; people gave me information without suspecting a thing. I was researching how to build an even simpler cabin on the other side of the lake for us to be 'together,' and I found information about the history and importance of the cabins in the area on the county's website. Among that, there was a blueprint showing how the cabins were originally designed. Most were built according to this model, and it included the existence of a basement."

"But why did Mr. Goss omit that?"

"After staying in the basement, I have the answer. Down there, you can see some structural irregularities. I think he feared that if they were discovered, they could cause legal problems or decrease the property's value. So, he decided to simply forge the documentation, stating that the basement had been dismantled and no longer existed since doing so for real is quite expensive."

"I could sue that old man for this!"

"I read your conversation with him about the purchase. You said it would just be a retreat for a few weeks. He probably thought that by the time you discovered the truth, he would already be six feet under."

You paused to digest things, refilled your glass of Coke, and downed it in one go. Calmer, you then asked,

"Structural irregularities, huh? That could be dangerous... And with these rains..."

"Despite the irregularities, I think it's safe enough to stay there for a while. You can deal with it later. If it hasn't collapsed before, it won't collapse now."

"That's a spirited way of looking at things."

For some reason, this made her smile.

"Someone has to, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so... Anyway, where's the basement entrance?"

"Under this rug," Sana replied, pointing to the shaggy rug in the living room.

"Of course it would be in the most visible place in the cabin. I feel like an idiot."

"There's an additional exit from the basement that leads directly outside, behind the cabin. It's where the old plumbing system was. It's camouflaged by vegetation, so it's hard to see."

"I really bought Area 51, huh?"

"The rest is no mystery. Through the external exit, I brought in food, blankets, a sleeping bag, clothes, and everything else I needed. I knew the basement had small ventilation openings, so there was enough air to breathe. And most importantly, an outlet to charge my phone."

"Damn! That's why the generator was consuming more than I calculated."

"Er, sorry!" she said, then theatrically bit her lower lip as if that could make up for things. Maybe it could. A little.

"It's been a long day. A long and weird day. But, in a way, it's nice to have you here. I guess."

That seemed to spark something in Sana's mind.

"Really?"

"While I was wandering lost in the forest, I felt strangely alone. I think being stuck here for days would be too lonely for my taste. At some point, I would wish for company."

You smiled at Sana, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Since I talked about my past, why don't you tell me a bit about yours? You know, the stuff that never made it into interviews. What might only be revealed in your biography."

"Well, know that you outdid me in the difficult past department. There are some things that were never told. Some painful memories. But it's already very late. How about I tell you tomorrow while we have a picnic by the lake? We need to save some for the next chapters."

"Great idea!" her smile lit up, and at that moment, she seemed like nothing more than a girl to you. "And what kind of story are we writing here?"

"I don't know... I want you to help me figure that out."

"You're... not afraid of me?"

"Not anymore. I think you got what you wanted. Come here."

You opened your arms a bit. Sana, like a wary puppy, gradually gave in and approached. She sat sideways on your lap, slowly, uncertain, looking at your ankle extended on the coffee table.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"No. You can sleep with me in the bed tonight. Or on the couch, if you prefer—"

"In the bed. Please."

"You don't need to do the weird perfume and dress thing anymore. From now on, I want you to just be yourself. Can you do that?"

"Of course! Of course I can! But... you don't hate me anymore? The way you expelled me earlier... The anger on your face... it broke my heart."

"People are strange, Sana," you began, the prelude to a speech you didn't know you were capable of giving, "feelings, they are weird as hell. A single feeling can have a million facets," you explained, and Sana looked at you with a mix of fascination and curiosity. Dangerously adorable on your lap. "The simplest way to see this is to think of a child who, after years of living with their parents, is ostracized for some reason, be it for coming out with their true sexuality or taking a political side contrary to the family's. It's easy to imagine the child's emotional pendulum swinging between love and hate for their parents."

"I think I get the gist of it."

"The point is: I understand what it means to find solace in something to take refuge from the untamed wild world. That's what I did with writing. And, in your case, you found refuge in me. It's our first point of connection."

Sana's hand trembled as it reached your face, her lips pressed together and her eyes shining with tears.

"You're exactly as I imagined," she said in a whisper, the most her voice could manage, as if every cell in her body was working to keep her from falling apart at that moment, "there's no other explanation but fate. It brought us here."

You thought that Sana might have nudged fate a bit to bring things to this moment. But so far, what you had seen of this girl with such a fragile appearance was a tragic and relentless force of nature, so maybe she did have her cosmic connection with destiny.

You brought Sana's face close for an Eskimo kiss. She seemed shy about the gesture but undeniably loved your initiative, and the sensation of her skin against yours, her weight on you, and her warmth enveloping you was irresistibly addictive. Sana's fingers played indiscreetly with your hair, her smile directed at you... When was the last time someone had smiled at you with love? It all felt so pure, so beautiful, so romantically erotic (the privileged view right in front of her neckline, her small and perfectly formed breasts pressing against the fabric) and so, so good. God couldn't be testing you, could He? Because, well, this was beyond any human limits.

Her eyes marked your mouth as a target, but she couldn't go further because what preceded the desire was a need to affirm something greater.

TOUCH ME

KISS ME

The words that flew like magic into your ear that night, now implied by a thread of feeling. You were kissing Sana, rediscovering that the truth can be a sweet ruin or, perhaps, she was the last soul to fill your emptiness. The kiss started gentle but soon intensified, becoming a deep and wet exploration. Each movement of your tongues carried the urgency of months of repressed desire. Mutual. The way Sana's lips molded to yours, the slight pressure and shared moisture creating an almost chemical reaction that could lead to combustion. Your fingers intertwined in her brown hair while Sana's fingers traced soft lines on your nape, sending shivers down your spine. She moved closer, pressing her breasts against your chest as your tongues intertwined, exploring and teasing. Her taste was a refreshing mix of sweetness and desire, an intoxicating combination that made your heart race.

Suddenly, you felt her lips open a bit more, and her tongue slid into your mouth with a firm motion. She started sucking on your tongue, pulling it gently into her mouth, creating a warm, wet suction that sent waves of pleasure straight to your core. The sensation was almost overwhelming, indescribable, indeed. Sana could leave a writer speechless. But the fact was that every movement of her tongue created a deeper connection, a current of desire that seemed to run directly to your cock.

"Your taste is delicious. I've missed it. It makes me want more, so much more," Sana whispered against your lips, fatally beautiful as a thread of saliva spontaneously trickled down her chin.

Sana's eyes were closed, her face surrendered to the pleasure of the moment as she did a perfect job driving you crazy. Each time she sucked your tongue, you felt a pull in your stomach, an almost primal need to fuck her hard in response to what she was doing to you.

Sana moaned softly, her sweet sounds of pleasure resonating against your lips, increasing your arousal, your hands gripping her delicate waist firmly, as if fearing she might escape. But Sana had no intention of going anywhere. She wanted to carnally explore every part of you.

You pulled her body closer, your hands sliding over the smooth curves of her back until you reached the firmness of her ass, soft through the texture of her dress, squeezing it shamelessly, feeling Sana's response in a muffled moan.

She released your tongue for a moment, just to murmur against your lips: "I want your cock fucking my tight pussy soon. It's getting so wet for you, my love."

"You have no idea what you're doing to me," you murmured, your voice husky, your mind... completely devastated by her.

"Oh, I do," she replied, a smile of pure satisfaction on her lips before diving back into your mouth. And in that moment, with Sana sucking your tongue with an almost painful precision, you knew you were totally, irrevocably surrendered to her.

"Now... Is this real? This time, is it real?" Sana asked, as if speaking of a distant dream, her eyes half-closed in pleasure and longing.

"It's damn real," you replied, feeling your heart race uncontrollably. "I can't resist you anymore."

Sana shifted position, slowly sliding to face you, her legs delicately wrapping around your hips. Her eyes met yours, and the lascivious and determined gleam in them was unmatched. She began to move her hips in a slow, sensual rhythm, pressing against your cock. By then, it was painfully hard inside your pants, throbbing with expectation.

Sana moved closer to your ear, her voice low and sweet, whispering: "I can feel how much you want me." Her hot breath against your skin. The smile... completely disloyal.

"What you're doing to me," you groaned, your voice heavy with desire, "is more than I can bear."

You couldn't hold back any longer, and with eager hands, you pulled Sana's small breasts out of her dress. Her nipples were hardened, inviting, and you couldn't resist. With your hands, you gently squeezed them, feeling the soft yet firm texture. You teased them with your thumbs, playing, provoking. Your mouth soon found her nipples, and you sucked on them, nibbling gently, each movement drawing moans of pleasure from Sana. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against your mouth, wanting more.

"Oh, yes... like that," she moaned, holding your head against her breasts. "Mmm, you suck so well."

"You're so hot," you murmured against her skin, the words coming out between kisses and nibbles. "I want to devour you whole."

Your desire to mark that moment as yours came to the surface and, terribly vulgar and perhaps even pretentious, you tilted your head and sucked on Sana's neck, leaving a visible mark, tasting the salty flavor of her sweaty skin.

"You're mine," you whispered, your voice full of possessiveness, you noticed, "that's a fucking fact now."

Then a smile escaped your lips. Acidic and ironic, ricocheting right back at you.

"What is it?" Sana asked with a curious giggle.

"Nothing," you replied, avoiding mentioning that you saw the current moment as a contemporary and subversive erotic reenactment of the myth of Hermaphroditus.

Sana, equally possessive, marked you too. She bit and sucked on your skin, leaving marks that affirmed her possession. The sensation of her teeth against your skin was undeniably pleasurable pain.

Finally, Sana got off your lap and grabbed your cock, a gesture that could only mean one thing. You unbuttoned your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear, just enough to free your cock from the terrible web of fabrics imprisoning it. The excitement in Sana's eyes increased, and she lay back on the couch, a look of satisfaction on her face.

She started giving you a blowjob, moving her mouth skillfully and intensely. Her lips wrapped around your cock, her tongue exploring every inch. She began with slow, deliberate movements, teasing every throbbing vein. Each suction, each slide of her small tongue was a reminder that you were alive, that you were touching the edge of paradise.

"You're incredible," you groaned, throwing your head back, your voice full of pleasure. "Keep going... don't stop."

She used her hands to stimulate what she couldn't reach with her mouth, alternating between fast and slow movements. Sana then began to play with your balls, licking and sucking, alternating between gentle caresses and intense pressure.

"Oh, Sana... that's so good," you groaned, feeling the pleasure course through your body.

She looked at you, her eyes shining with desire and satisfaction. "I want to make you cum hard," she whispered, returning to sucking your cock with renewed intensity, while her hands continued to caress your balls. "I want you to fuck me so badly," she said, looking at you with a mix of desire and determination. "Let's end this wait."

"Fuck, let's!" you replied, knowing that surrendering to her had been your best decision in a long time.

You moved to the bedroom. With your fucked ankle, you knew some positions would be challenging, but the latent desire surpassed any pain. Slowly, you began to undress. Sana, noticing your difficulty, knelt in front of you, with a terribly indecipherable look. She unbuttoned your pants with deliberate sensuality, her fingers brushing against your skin, making your entire body shiver.

"Leave it to me," she murmured, sliding down your pants and underwear. On another occasion, with another person, you might have felt embarrassed, but this time it seemed so... normal? The last time you had shared this level of transparency and vulnerability had been with your ex-wife. Although only at the beginning of the relationship. Soon everything got so... strange.

After Sana helped you slide your injured leg into your pants, you managed to finish the rest yourself. Completely undressed, you kissed her deeply and lovingly, then slid both straps of her dress off her slender shoulders at once. The fabric rippled as it slid down on its own, revealing the beautiful artwork that was Sana's petite, half-naked body. The only piece of clothing that remained, and truly captured your attention, was the cute pair of panties she was wearing.

Totally intentional.

A pink pair of panties, almost innocent in contrast to the fervent passion she was capable of emanating, adorned with a small bow at the front. The thin fabric was damp, a clear evidence of how much she was enjoying the moment.

"You're so fucking hot, Sana," you murmured, your eyes fixed on that small detail that seemed to encapsulate all the desire and tenderness that made up Sana's essence.

She smiled, a shy yet mischievous smile.

"Do you like it?" she asked, her voice filled with sweetness and boldness.

"I love it," you replied, unable to resist her charm, running your fingers delicately over the bow, feeling the softness of the fabric. "And you're so wet," you added, your fingers gliding over the material, feeling her reaction in the slight tremor of her legs.

"That's the effect you have on me," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "And I used to masturbate thinking about you... Always you."

You smiled provocatively and slid your fingers over the fabric of her panties, feeling her dampness increase with each touch. Your mouth began to kiss and lick her belly. With slow and provocative movements, you started rubbing your fingers over the wet fabric, pressing lightly against her clit, without ever removing the panties.

"I can feel how excited you are," you murmured between kisses, your tongue warmed by her heated skin, each touch of your lips sending sparks of pleasure throughout her body. "You like it when I do this, don't you, Sana?"

Sana moaned in response, her hips moving involuntarily against your hand, seeking more friction. "Yes... please, keep going!" she pleaded, her voice trembling with desire.

"You want more?" you asked, already knowing the answer. "You want me to keep teasing you like this?"

"Yes, please," she moaned again, her voice full of need.

You continued to rub your fingers over the wet fabric, pressing harder, faster, until you felt she was completely soaked. The panties were drenched, the moisture trickling down the insides of her thighs.

"I can feel how much you want me," you murmured against her skin, your fingers now sliding along the edge of her panties, pulling them down slightly, just enough to tease but not enough to remove.

Sana panted, her moans loud and filled with pleasure. "Please, don't torture me anymore," she begged, her eyes closed, her head thrown back.

You obliged, finally pulling the panties down, exposing the glistening wetness of her pussy. The musky aroma of Sana filled the air, intoxicating and irresistible.

"You're perfect," you murmured.

"I want to feel you," she whispered, her voice laden with need. "I want you to eat my pussy. Look how creamy it is."

Sana propped her right leg on the bed and with two fingers she opened her tight pussy, and it was so delicious, so perfect, so, indeed, creamy.

In a moment of pure synchronicity, you both lay on the bed, as if connected by a greater bond, and assumed the 69 position. Sana positioned herself over you, her hot, wet pussy directly over your mouth. You started to lick her hungrily, savoring each moan that escaped her lips. Your tongue explored every fold, every inch, while your hands held her buttocks, pulling her closer to you.

"Yes! Lick my pussy! Just like that," she moaned sweetly.

As you savored Sana's creamy pussy, she enveloped your cock with her mouth, her tongue gliding over the head, mercilessly stimulating your frenulum, causing precum to leak out, which she loved. All the while, her hands massaged your balls, amplifying the sensation to the highest degree.

"Oh, fuck... If you keep doing that, I'm going to cum, Sana," you groaned, unconsciously thrusting your cock slightly into her mouth.

Sana then stopped sucking you and changed position.

"First, I want to cum on your face, love," she said, crawling over you, positioning herself, and opening up in front of your eyes until she finally sat on your face, her pussy now completely accessible to your tongue and mouth. You held her hips, guiding her movements as she began to grind against your face. Your tongue explored every inch, while your fingers caressed the insides of her thighs.

"I want you to lick me until I cum," she whispered, her voice trembling with excitement.

"I'm going to make you cum so hard," you murmured, your lips and tongue moving with precision against her.

Sana moaned loudly, moving her hips more intensely, pressing herself against your mouth. Her moans were loud and filled with pleasure, her body experiencing small spasms.

"Fuck, you're so good at this," she moaned, her eyes closed, the tension increasing.

Your tongue moved faster, firmer, each movement bringing her closer to climax. She held your head tightly, her fingers tangling in your hair, as her moans grew louder, more desperate.

"I'm almost there," she panted, her body entirely sweaty. "Don't stop, please, don't stop!"

With one last firm move of your tongue, you brought her to climax. Sana screamed with pleasure, her entire body trembling as she came intensely, her juices covering your mouth and face. You continued to lick her softly, helping to prolong her orgasm, savoring every moment.

"You're amazing," she murmured, still panting, that inherent satisfaction of making a girl cum taking over you.

Recovering, Sana slid down again. She began to ride you slowly, her movements erotic and calculated, each rise and fall rhythmic and sound. She leaned forward, her breasts bouncing as she increased the pace.

"You're so sexy," you groaned, holding her hips, helping her keep the rhythm. "Keep going, princess, don't stop."

She increased the speed, her entire body working to bring both of you to ecstasy. Her pussy tight around your cock, the heat and friction creating an indescribable sensation.

"Oh yes, Sana. Fuck me harder," you murmured, your voice hoarse with pleasure.

"I'm gonna cum... fuck, I'm gonna cum on your cock," she screamed, her movements frantic, her pussy pulsing around you as she reached orgasm, trembling with pleasure.

She collapsed on top of you, her head resting on your chest. You gently brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face. Until then, you hadn't noticed how beautiful she was without makeup. You kissed the top of her head, a gesture she returned with equal passion by kissing your chest, saying: "I love you so much."

The room was dark, except for a soft light coming from the living room filtering through the half-open door, enough for you to see the sparkle in her eyes when she finally looked at you.

You didn't say anything. Words were unnecessary now. Instead, you let your hands do the talking, tracing the contours of her body, every curve, every perfect imperfection. She mumbled something inaudible against your chest, and you felt a smile form on your lips despite the fatigue.

She raised her head, her gaze serious but with a spark of something untamed. "Don't leave me," she pleaded, as if that were a real possibility. You smiled, kissing her lips, soft and prolonged, a kiss that promised much more than simple words could.

"I'm not going anywhere," you replied, the certainty in your voice unwavering.

You nestled close to her side, you behind her, your injured leg resting. You entered her again, slowly, savoring every inch that went in and out. She leaned back, allowing you deeper access. Your hands caressed her breasts, playing with her nipples as you fucked her from behind.

"Sana... I'm falling in love with you," you murmured, your voice laden with a strange possessiveness and love, a love you never imagined you could feel. But the act of kissing Sana's shoulder so tenderly while penetrating her could mean nothing but passion.

"You are my everything," she moaned, her voice trembling with pleasure.

You gripped her hip tightly, your thrusts becoming faster and more intense. The sound of your bodies colliding was erotic and highly stimulating.

"You're so tight... so wet," you confessed in her ear, your breath ragged. "I'm gonna cum, Sana."

"Cum, baby. Cum for me," she begged, her moans loud and filled with desire.

Feeling your climax approaching, you pulled out of her. Sana quickly knelt by the edge of the bed, looking at you with intense anticipation and lust., ready to receive your cum. You sat on the edge of the bed and started masturbating quickly, the sight of her so exciting that you were soon on the verge of orgasm.

"Cum for me," she whispered, her voice soft but urgent.

"I'm gonna cum," you groaned, your voice hoarse with pleasure and urgency. Sana smiled wickedly, knowing exactly what you needed.

"I want to feel you cum on my face," she whispered, her voice dripping with lust. "I want to taste you."

The sight of Sana waiting eagerly, her eyes fixed on you, made your cock throb even more. You sped up your strokes, your movements fast and precise, while she watched you, her hand casually caressing your balls.

"I want all your cum on my face, baby."

You felt the pressure building, each movement of your hand bringing you closer to climax. The moans intensified, your muscles tensing as the pleasure built to an inevitable crescendo. Sana looked intently, adorably seductive, ready to receive every drop from you.

When the orgasm finally hit, it was like an explosion. You let out a deep groan, almost a scream, as your body convulsed with pleasure. The first spurt of cum hit her face. Sana moaned with satisfaction, her eyes closed as she felt the warmth of your semen spreading across her skin.

"Oh yes, just like that," she murmured, her voice full of delight. "Cover my whole face." You continued to masturbate, each spasm sending more jets of cum onto her face, while she used her fingers to spread it, mixing it with the sweat still glistening on her skin. She opened her mouth, her tongue out to taste what she could, her eyes half-closed with pleasure.

"Wow! Fuck! that was fucking amazing," you groaned, reason slowly returning to your mind, your eyes fixed on the erotic painting in front of you.

When the spasms finally subsided, you stopped, panting. Sana looked at you, a smile of pure satisfaction on her lips, her face gleaming with your cum. She licked her lips, savoring the taste.

With a mischievous smile, you couldn't resist and, holding the base of your still-sensitive cock, started rubbing it on her face, spreading the cum already covering her skin. Sana closed her eyes, moaning softly as you slid the head of your cock over her cheeks, forehead, and lips, marking her completely.

"Yes, baby, rub that big hard cock on me," she murmured, her voice full of satisfaction. You rubbed slowly, savoring every moment, feeling the heat and moisture of her skin against your cock. Sana opened her mouth, licking the head of your cock, tasting the mix of your semen and sweat. You let out one last muffled groan, terribly sensitive.

"You look so hot like this, covered in my cum."

"I’m better than your ex-wife, aren’t I?"

"In ways that are immeasurable, princess," you murmured, your voice heavy with lust.

She smiled at your compliment.

"I guess I better wash my face before I go completely blind," Sana commented, her eyes half-closed. "Want to shower with me?"

"Sure! I- uh, I'll need your help anyway," you said, looking at your messed-up ankle.

"With me here, you don't have to worry, silly."

After the bath, the curiosity to see what the basement was like was obvious and natural. There was no way to resist such a mystery, and Sana, still a little shy about the somewhat... reckless action, revealed the secret room to you. She pulled the rug, and to your surprise, there was nothing there.

“It’s really a secret passage because I can't see anything.”

“It’s very well disguised. Mr. Goss did a good job camouflaging it. Look, the trapdoor is framed in a way that it blends perfectly with the surrounding floor. Covered by the shaggy rug, it’s almost impossible to see with the naked eye, especially since the edge aligns with the floorboards, without any protrusion or visible handle.”

“Yeah, I see. Or rather, I don’t see a damn thing!”

“There’s a small opening that can only be accessed if you know exactly where to look. I used a thin blade like this one to lift one of the wooden boards where there’s a small concealed groove. Once I knew that, it was easy to open the trapdoor and hide down there.”

And that’s how she did her magic. You really would have died without knowing about that damn basement. Once the trapdoor was opened, there was an old wooden staircase leading down to a kind of concrete room; although previously neglected, it now seemed like a carefully arranged refuge, perfectly ready to secretly shelter someone. Sana helped you down the creaky and worn wooden steps, a slight and cold humidity pervading the air below, common in places that rarely see sunlight. However, the signs of a recent attempt to make the space habitable were evident in every corner.

The concrete walls, probably once gray and mold-stained, had been partially cleaned. Though still rough and marked by time, they were now free of superficial dirt, and some parts had been covered with old, worn but colorful tapestries, adding a touch of warmth and humanity to the environment. The cement floor had been meticulously swept, and a large, thick rug had been placed in the center, providing a more comfortable and insulated surface than the cold concrete.

In one corner of the basement, there was an improvised bed made up of a sleeping bag, washed cotton sheets, and a wool blanket to face the cold nights. Next to the bed, a book whose title you couldn’t read from where you stood, an almost finished open bag of chips, and a (possibly dry) can of iced tea, although you doubted Sana had actually drunk it cold.

Lightly rusted metal shelves leaned against the walls, housing provisions and essentials like canned food and bottles of water. Some clothes were carefully folded in one corner of the shelves, with some sanitary pads nearby. A small wooden chest with a rusty lock held Sana’s personal belongings.

“How did you bring all this down here?” you asked, astonished.

“It took time, but I’m patient.”

On the opposite side, an improvised washbasin with a metal bowl and a water jug for basic hygiene offered a minimum of comfort. Clean towels hung on improvised hooks, and a cracked but still functional mirror was fixed on the wall above the basin.

“Please don’t tell me you-”

“No way! I was using the cabin’s bathroom,” she replied preemptively. “I was mindful of your schedule, and even though you take a long time to fall asleep, once you’re out, nothing wakes you up.”

A small oil heater was strategically placed to combat the cold that seeped in at night through the concrete floor and thick walls, probably responsible for secretly consuming the generator’s fuel. Next to it, a simple wooden chair and a small table offered a place to sit and perhaps write or read, with a few books carefully stacked beside it.

Despite the age and condition of the basement, Sana’s effort to make it habitable was commendable. Every detail, every item carefully placed, reflected her urgency and care, a diligent effort to transform the basement into something minimally livable.

“This is absurd as hell, Sana. Completely insane… But... Well, I’m glad you won’t be sleeping here anymore. There weren’t any bugs, were there?”

“Thank God, no! When I cleaned, I only found cobwebs and abandoned moth cocoons. I couldn’t have stayed here if there were bugs. Ew!”

You managed a slight smile. It was funny to think that despite being calculating, methodical, and patient, mere insects scared her. No one was really safe from that irrational fear thing.

“Alright then! You’d better take all your stuff up,” you said. “I can’t think of any use for this basement. In a future renovation, maybe I’ll just close it up and fulfill what’s written in the document.”

“Nah, you should just reinforce the foundation and keep the basement,” Sana suggested, moving closer for a hug. “You never know when you might need a little place to store something.”

You two were in bed. Sana, with your MacBook on her lap, was deciphering the draft of the first chapter of what might become your next novel. Untitled, without a definite form. She liked what she read, unraveling the unfinished subtleties that challenged the conventions of the genre. Letting her read the draft was a huge gesture, an exposure comparable to sex. And she knew that. She knew everything about you, after all. It was your goodwill gesture, a sign that you were open to her, willing to make this relationship stable, serious, healthy.

You had gone to the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you returned, Sana followed your steps with her eyes, waiting for you to lie down beside her again to ask:

"Promise you won't give up on me?"

"I promise. Sana, you're already strong on your own for having endured everything you have. And from now on, you can count on me to support you too. We'll break the circle together."

"You're everything I dreamed of and more," she said, hugging you, giggling.

"And you're an unexpected but very welcome gift," you comforted her in your arms. She was incredibly cuddly and emotional, which wasn't a bad thing. "So, I think we better sleep to enjoy the picnic tomorrow," you said, pulling Sana to snuggle into the pillow with you. "Damn, I'm completely exhausted, and it's partly your fault."

She giggled.

"And there's much more to come, Mr. Writer," Sana commented, turning off the lamp. "We can sweat a little tomorrow at the lake, if you know what I mean."

You fell asleep earlier than you imagined. Sana kept talking in your ear, excited about everything (you couldn't blame her), her words dissolving into the darkness. Her sweet, serene voice fading as you drifted off.

A perfect way to fall asleep, you thought, before slipping into slumber.

Then a scream sliced through the night like a blade, cutting the silence and your eardrums. Sharp and piercing. Sana, in a leap that defied logic, turned on the lamp and flew out of bed. Her hands frantically groped the wall, searching for the switch. The raw light illuminated her pale face, wide eyes filled with fear, and trembling hands.

"What's happening?!" you asked, confusion shaking your head.

"Something jumped on me! Some kind of bug!"

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of movement. Nothing made sense, everything was blurry.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! It jumped on my face. It was cold!" She was on the verge of tears, you on the verge of falling back asleep.

You got up with difficulty, each movement sending jolts of pain through your injured ankle. Your eyes fixed on the nightstand, where a small dark green figure stood on the right edge, like an unexpected sentinel.

"I see it."

"What is it?! You have to kill it!"

"It's just a small frog."

"You need to get it out of here!"

"I saw it before. It came in through a crack. I bought some duct tape to seal the hole, but I forgot to do it."

"It can't stay here!"

"Are you afraid?"

"It might jump on me again at any moment."

You laughed, a rough, low sound, almost a release of relief. You understood what she was going through, that primal terror of being attacked by something unknown in the middle of the night.

“Why are you laughing? That's not funny!”

"Hey, don't worry, this little guy won't disturb my girl's sleep anymore."

Slowly, almost ridiculously slowly, you walked around the bed, each step a struggle against the pain. You approached the small invader, the frog, still and cold. When you tried to touch it, it jumped straight onto your neck, like a biological missile. Sana let out a high-pitched scream, as if the frog had jumped on her.

"It's okay," you said, trying to calm her, but Sana was already at the door, ready to flee, eyes fixed on you as if you were her last safe harbor.

You approached the window, opened it, and a cold breeze hit your face, refreshing. Carefully, you removed the frog from your neck, feeling its cold, moist texture against your skin. You held it in your hand, offering it the vastness of the night outside.

"Go live a little," you said, with a flick of your hand, watching the frog leap to freedom. "It's all good now," you said, turning to Sana. "We can go back to sleep. In the morning I'll seal the crack."

"God, I think I hate frogs now."

You laughed again, a laugh that was both relief and exhaustion. The room finally sank back into silence, except for the soft sound of your breathing and Sana's, slowly returning to normal. Tomorrow, you thought, tomorrow you'll deal with the crack, but for now, the only thing that mattered was that she was safe and the terror had been expelled. And you... Fuck, you could get some sleep.

In the kitchen, you were busy packing the picnic basket, feeling a strange happiness performing such a mundane task. It had been a while since you felt this way — almost like a young boy again, experiencing the thrill of a new romance. Everything would be different now. Fuck solitude, you would be happy alongside someone. And a simple yet significant action representing your care for this new relationship was in this picnic basket you organized. Every sandwich carefully wrapped, the biscuit container tightly sealed, each juice bottle adjusted, and the bowl of fresh grapes waiting for a decision...

You both believed that your ankle would indeed be 100% recovered in about a week or less. Fortunately, the damage wasn't that bad. Until then, you would walk supported by a broken broom handle, pretending it was the staff of an old monk in a cabin with satellite Wi-Fi.

In the bedroom, Sana stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her earrings with an untimely smile. The morning was heavily overcast, threatening rain, but you both were counting on some weather support for a few hours, and although the day wasn't bright, Sana was. Ready for a perfect day with you.

Everything, absolutely everything, seemed to be in place.

As she turned slightly to check her look from different angles, your phone on the dresser lit up with a notification. The flashing light caught her attention. Curious, she leaned in to see the message on the notification bar.

And then her world crumbled. The smile melted away from her face like hot wax. Everything around her slowed down.

You called out from the kitchen, almost singing: "Sana, what do you think? Should I take grapes or not?”

Her eyes widened instantly as she read the message, and for a moment, everything around her disappeared, leaving only a cold void. The happiness she felt evaporated, the fog in the forest remained.

In the back of Sana's mind, the read message echoed like a dark warning:

"Dude, stay away from that girl!!"

"My brother found out some creepy shit about her"

"Btw her real name isn't even Sana 💀”

You asked again from the kitchen, your voice sounding distant, almost like an echo:

"So, Sana? Grapes or not?"

She took a deep breath. She was a battlefield between panic and forced calm. The messages were deleted with fingers that didn't want to believe what they had just read, while she replied with a voice that could barely stay steady:

"Yes, take the grapes! I love grapes!"

She turned to the mirror again, but the image she saw was no longer the same. The sparkle in her eyes had disappeared; it was just the reflection of someone. It could hardly be called a face.

A mask.

A mask desperately trying to stay calm.

She put the phone back where it was, making sure the messages were indeed deleted and the sender blocked. Something would have to be done soon. She forced herself to smile again in front of the mirror to see if she could maintain it. But a crack slowly widened in her mind, threatening to shatter all the false stability she had built.

She left the bedroom, walking towards the kitchen with hesitant steps, trying to maintain composure. There you were, waiting, with the picnic basket in your hands and an expression of affection that now seemed almost cruel to her eyes.

As she approached, she simulated a smile, everything buried behind her beautiful brown eyes. She greeted you with a quick kiss and casually asked:

"Did you remember to put the strawberry jam in the basket, honey?"

[glossysoap]

claiming ink 💉

them hearing you say once (once is all it takes) that you ‘don’t belong to them’ and in that split second after that silly remark, they’re deciding to tattoo their bite marks into your skin 💉

insp for this came from those trending videos of people getting their partners bite marks tattooed 🫣

18+ tw: dark fic, forced claiming via forced tattoos, stalking, groping, kissing, ex husband price, obsessed artists ghoap, stalker gaz, soulmate price/stalker price. simon’s the one doing a lot of the tattooing because it’s what made the most sense to me for the specific scenario.

some aus (that i’ve already discussed/mentioned) that this could work with are below. the links are provided at the beginning of each section. they’re very short skims, though it’s not completely necessary in order to read this:

ex husband price coming up with the idea the very second you try and hand him the manila folder filled with divorce papers and your ring. a long, tension filled car ride later, only a mere thirty minutes pass once you’re being guided (read: all but scruffed and pulled) inside his home.

suddenly the home you used to feel so comfortable in, so safe in, left you with chills running down your spine. with your eyes all wide and a sinking feeling in your gut - yelling at you to run for the hills.

simon waits at the dining table. it felt right right to trust him with something like this as price’s second in command. next to simon’s seat at the table sits a tattoo kit. the gun is already plugged in and the inks are already prepped. the table is already sterilized and ready for you to lay. your eyes widen and your stomach drops.

before you know it, your ex husband is holding you down while simon picks up the tattoo gun. john’s broad, big shoulders and strong muscles making it impossible to move as you’re pinned down to the table. “now, now. quit your squirming.” he slides your ring back on where it belongs, ignoring your cries and pleas.

(….)

soulmate/stalker price bringing a stick n poke kit as he tracks you down to that motel. it weighs heavy in the duffel bag he’d swung over his shoulder (along with some ropes and cuffs - just in case you weren’t cooperative. he could count on that.)

he wears a grin on his lips as he stalks to your motel door, the cold of night making his breath come out in fog. a few clicks is all it took for him to pick the lock.

he swings the duffel bag over his shoulder once more before pushing the door open slowly, finding the motel room bathed with darkness, save for your bedside lamp. he squints, eyes landing on the bed. his eyes crinkling at the edges as he sees your unconscious form laid out on the cot. your brows relaxed and mouth parted, face free of tension.

his feet move before his body as he finds himself at your bedside. merely an arms length from you. his mouth quirks into a smile, all sharp and gleaming. hungry. to see you right in front of him, vulnerable in your sleep and empty of your usual fight… ripe for the taking. he all but purred as he gently let go of his duffel bag to the floor.

a few minutes passed once he got the kit set up on your nightstand. needle sterilized and ink prepped. gloves slipped on. before all of that, a metal cuff locked around one of your wrists attaching to the bedpost. in your sleep, your other hand was hanging off the bedside - letting him easily pluck your wrist off the bed.

he held your arm with such care and grace, such a contrast to the demanding tone he’s reserved for you and the pawing hands he gropes you with whenever he tracks you down.

his eyes scan your face to ensure you’re still in a deep sleep, as if you waking up would stop him, before picking up the needle in his other hand.

since he didn’t bother numbing you, it doesn’t surprise him that you’re quick to jerk out of your slumber, gasping and crying from the needle poking through your skin. he heaves a sigh and pulls the needle away as you thrash, only to find yourself handcuffed to the bed.

“c’mon. settle down, now. you made me wait long enough, pup.” he growls as he yanks your hand to stay still for the needle. he was getting real tempted to skip ahead and actually bite you instead of just tattooing it on.

(….)

stalker gaz seeing you post on social media that you were getting a tattoo, and he sends an anonymous ask recommending a local shop, one that simon owns.

when you get there, the owner has many stencils prepared - one that looks suspiciously like teeth marks. you make some remark about it looking very realistic. “what, you get someone to actually bite down on the paper?” you joke, not knowing that kyle’s teeth had clamped down on the tracing paper earlier that day.

a few hours later, kyle checks your instagram story to see you posting your new ink. he feels his smile splitting his face, grinning from ear to ear as he sees his bite mark embedded into your skin. and you didn’t even know it was his.

“that’ll have to do until the real thing, i suppose.” he murmurs aloud as he imagines digging his teeth into your plush flesh, dragging moans and whines out of you every time.

he can’t wait to taste your skin under his tongue as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders, biting your flesh and leaving indents in his wake. he knew his hands would be gripping you tightly all the while, with an almost bruising hold.

(….)

obsessed artists ghoap deciding that a stick n poke isn’t much different than a painting as they mark your (their muses) skin. johnny’s arms wrap around your middle to both comfort you and to keep you still for simon’s steady hands. johnny’s face buries into your neck and his teeth skim the sensitive skin as he leaves open mouthed kisses along the span.

“mmm, bonnie.” he groans into your neck in approval at your taste. his arms tighten around you, his hands coming up to paw at your tits through your shirt.

if anything, his groping did at least momentarily distract you from the needle simon held getting closer to your skin. momentarily was the operative word.

once the sting of the needle reached your wrist, the whimpers and gasps started. simon’s scarred mouth quirks up into a grin as he watches the art come into place. the blood seeping from where needle meets skin. the ink bleeding before being wiped away. the mix of your cries and the buzzing of the needle filled the room.

as the needle passed over veins, you jerked and twitched involuntarily. simon’s skilled hands thankfully pulled back the second it started, jaw clenching in frustration.

“keep ‘er still, johnny.” is all he murmured before letting the needle pierce your skin again, tracing the stencils that formed both of their bite marks.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Roses are red... [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

[Timothée masterlist]

If you want to request something, leave it in my inbox!

A noise in the distance was responsible for waking you up from your not-so-pleasant sleep in the hard, cold bed that you had been using for almost a year. Could it be Scrubbit? It was too late for her to be doing anything, you thought, much less in the bedroom section. With some curiosity you slipped your cold feet into the even colder shoes to turn on the lamp on your table and left the room with the intention of discovering what that was.

Hallways always made you nervous and the thought of encountering something unpleasant made you even more uneasy, but you tried to keep your mind occupied with something else as you moved forward step by step. Seeing nothing outside the rooms, you continued down the spiral stairs and that was where you finally observed the cause of the commotion: a crouching body that made you jump in surprise.

“Mr. Wonka?” you whispered when you noticed the burgundy coat and this time it was your turn to startle.

“Oh, it's just you,” he laughed, a little more relieved “What are you doing here?”

“The noise woke me up. What are you doing here?” you asked back, seeing him fully dressed and with his shoes on.

“Trying to get out. I need to get an ingredient to finish tomorrow's chocolates” he explained to you.

True, tomorrow would be the big day where you guys would do your best to present your friend's chocolates to the world. You had to admit that at first you hadn't been fascinated by the idea, but after seeing all the good things that this had brought for the entire group you were more than willing to continue supporting in whatever way you could. That was why the next day you would sneak into the gourmet galleries during the day to help operate the shop that Abacus and Noodle had managed to rent. And you could tell that Wonka could barely contain his excitement.

“How do you plan to go out at this time?” you asked, as it was obvious that your usual exit through the laundry tube wasn’t an option.

“There's a space big enough for someone to get out in that part, see?” he murmured, pointing with his cane at a gap above the front door “I just need to get a good grip on this rope and I can climb up there. I will pull it to the other side and before dawn I will climb again.”

“And what if Scrubbit sees you?”

“She won't,” Wonka whispered, completely sure of himself. There was a brief silence between you, where you just looked at him with a certain claim and he returned that look with an amused "Do you want to come with me?"

"What? No!"

"Come on! It will be fun"

“I'm in my pajamas,” you said through clenched teeth.

“Then put on different clothes,” he quickly resolved, with a smile that was too enthusiastic for your liking. Looking at your doubtful expression he added: “It will only be a few hours, don't you want to get out of here?”

Although you were a little hesitant, after thinking about it a little and with the help of the man's hopeful expression you ended up being convinced. Making as little noise as possible you went up to your room to dress properly and when you returned he was already sitting on a step, waiting for you.

“I hope you know what you're doing,” you whispered close to him, half excited and half scared to death by what you were about to do.

You had gone out before, of course, but you knew that doing it at night was even riskier for many reasons you didn't want to think about right now.

He went first, just to check that everything was safe, and then you followed him, albeit with a little less grace. When you were above the door he reminded you to pull the rope for the time to return and when you looked at the height at which you were the idea of going down became less promising than at the beginning.

“Jump and I'll catch you” he exclaimed, noticing your frightened expression and you took a moment to try to calm down by breathing deeply.

You analyzed your options and thought that in that position you would have to go down anyway, and it was preferable to do it outwards, so without thinking too much about it you made a sign to the boy and then threw yourself forward with your eyes closed. You heard him exhale in surprise and the next thing you felt were his arms holding you, perhaps too tightly, as he feared you were going to fall suddenly.

"Are you okay?" he laughed softly, quite close to your ear. Upon hearing that you opened your eyes only to meet his, as green and beautiful as a pair of emeralds.

“Yes, everything is perfect” you sighed, and then he gently placed you on the floor. Without even expecting it you had already giggled too.

“Okay, go ahead.”

Without questioning him, you began to walk behind him and when you were a couple of streets away you were able to breathe more calmly, as if the weight of your captors had been reduced on your shoulders. Due to the schedule of your visits abroad, you hadn’t had the opportunity to appreciate the beautiful lights around you and you were sure that at that moment you looked like a child fascinated by them.

“They're pretty, right?” Wonka asked, confirming your hypothesis completely. Seemingly he had been watching you look at the decorations.

“They are,” you answered timidly. “What precisely are we looking for?” you asked next, still a little distracted by the environment, but trying to get his attention away from you.

“Some young rose leaves to make an infusion for the chocolate roses. I saw a full garden near the park the other time, when we were returning to the laundry. I think they can be useful”

“Are you feeling nervous?” you murmured gently, giving him your full attention now as you crossed your arms to keep some warmth. “About tomorrow.”

“A little… well, a lot actually. But in a good way,” he smiled “The truth is that I have never felt so nervous and excited in my life. All this is like a dream come true”

“I hope it’s perfect,” you murmured and you said it with sincere faith.

You had tried so hard to achieve all this that you were not only looking to do it to pay off your debt with Scrubbit, but also to see your new friend happy. And how would you not want that? Seeing him happy was a wonderful sight.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing that your figure was slightly curled in on itself. Apparently he was noticing a lot more than you would like.

"Only a little"

You were going to add that you were fine with it, but suddenly he stopped you by jumping in front of you and when you were about to ask what was happening, he undid the scarf around his neck to wrap it around yours. His movements were careful and the closeness forced you to hold your breath, only for your nostrils to then be flooded with the boy's aroma combined with the cheap detergent with which he had surely washed the garment.

"Better now?" the man smiled and since you didn't have time to assimilate the situation you just nodded, without stopping looking at him just because he kept looking at you.

You thought maybe this was what it would feel like to hug the boy, even though you had never done it, and then you hid your nose in the soft fabric. It had purple and green patterns on a gray background, quite pretty actually.

“The… the park. It’s there,” you stammered, pointing to a point behind your friend.

When he turned around he could see the rose bushes in the distance and let out an exclamation of joy, while his warm hand sought your wrist to guide you in their direction, causing a shiver to run through your entire body.

When you walked through the place and reached the plants he knelt next to the bushes, starting to rant about how functional these flowers would be, whether it was their leaves, the color, the shape... he listed more and more qualities, but you just could focus on the feeling on your neck and the warm ghost of his fingers on your skin.

And in that moment it was as if you had suddenly noticed something about him that you hadn't noticed at first; that there was some tenderness in his features that made you feel nervous or maybe it was his thin, skillful hands walking through the branches or even, daring to sound exaggerated, you would say that you suddenly noticed how handsome he really was. How did you notice it until now?

He said something and then you asked him to repeat it, since you had been too busy watching him to pay attention to his words.

“I asked you if you think any would be useful,” he said again. You took a look at the bush in front of you and pointed towards the first specimen you found, hoping that the talk would take away the thoughts that had invaded your mind.

To your surprise it turned out that the rose you had pointed out was quite pretty and, according to the requirements you remembered, it was perfect for the man's purposes. After congratulating your choice, he took out some scissors from his hat and carefully cut out the flower, to keep it in the same piece of fabric as the others that he had already selected.

“These roses will make the best chocolates, I can already imagine it,” he said with some pride, looking at the pile of plants you had. You hadn't even looked when he cut so many.

"They are beautiful"

"Yes, they are. And this one is for you."

If you had managed to get rid, even for a moment, of romantic thoughts towards him, right now he wasn't being very cooperative. Not when he was offering you the prettiest rose with such a sweet smile.

Why was he doing that? You did not know. Maybe he was just being kind and grateful, like he was most of the time.

“Huh, thank you, Mr. Wonka…”

“Be careful, he still has some thorns,” he warned you, “And stop calling me Mr. Wonka. “We are friends and my friends call me Willy.”

A small smile invaded your face and it was lucky that you were able to hide the blush on your cheeks with the excuse of inhaling the scent of the rose. It was exquisite, by the way.

“Then thank you, Willy,” you corrected yourself, to which he showed a satisfied expression.

And then a pleasant tickling invaded your stomach because, whether they were real flowers or chocolate flowers, it would always be a pleasure to receive such a cute detail from such a cute boy.

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: dark! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, gaslighting, drugging, kidnapping. This is only fiction! Never tolerate creepy behavior

A/n: so this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I decided to finish it as a part of writing event. I’m so proud of this one, like omg, look at me being a writer😆

Your head hurt. That was the first thing you registered as you started to slowly regain consciousness. Your face scrunched up in a grimace of pain as you let out a soft groan, your throat sore, only increasing your discomfort.

You tried to raise your hands to rub on your eyes in attempt to soothe the stinginess - point word - tried. You very soon found that your movements had been restricted by something that felt very much like rope. And not only your hands - your legs were bound tightly together at your knees and ankles, not allowing you to move.

- You’re awake now? - soft voice droned on, making you tense up impossibly more. The most terrifying thing was that you knew exactly who this voice belonged to.

You squinted into direction from which the sound came, your vision still blurry and hazy from the drug. Thankfully, the room was dark, small lamp on the bedside table was the only source of soft yellow light. You could only perceive a bulky figure sitting on a chair not too far from you, piercing blue eyes gazed at you unblinking.

- König..? What’s going on? - you asked, your voice was hoarse and weak from long lack of usage.

Suddenly, memories flashed before your eyes; it was late evening - about 11 pm - as you were walking towards convenience store not so far from your apartment.

You had been in a state of constant desolation lately - days were bleak and boring, blurring into one with their unchanging routine, sending you in deeper state of depression.

Breakup with your boyfriend took a toll on you. You loved König, you really did. Considered spending your life with him, even. But the longer your relationship lasted, the more of real him you saw - controlling, obsessive, manipulative.

It all started out small - constant checking in, questions about your whereabouts and your company, him following accompanying you wherever possible. Surely, it restricted your freedom, but König didn’t mean anything bad! He was just worried for you, concerned about your safety! Is that so bad?

So you let it slip. You overlooked his more controlling tendencies, agreed to giving him passwords to all your social media even, so König could make sure that “no freaks were texting you”. It unnerved you, but he didn’t mean anything bad, did he? He was just being a good caring boyfriend!

And it was like an avalanche. Constant calls and messages, controlling what you were wearing, unwillingness to leave you alone even for a few minutes - that and many other things made a list of what your boyfriend did, only adding to your anxiety. But you tolerated it all, because you loved him. Once, digging through your phone you found something that looked very much like a tracking app. You were outraged. But when you asked König about it - rather aggressively - he just blinked at you with wide innocent blue eyes, saying that maybe you installed it on accident? You know all these bots nowadays, you can never be safe online now. But you know that he would never do something like that, right? How could you even think of something like that?! König was genuinely offended, and you naturally hastened to apologize for your unwise accusations, trying to make it up to him. Deleting this app seemed to be impossible, though, no matter how many times you tried.

Last drop was, however, when König nearly blew out your best friend’s front door, threatening them to keep away from you. “This bitch is putting some fucked up ideas about me into your head” - was his reasoning. And that was it - hell was set free. You had an ugly shouting marathon for hours to no end, with lots of tears and profanities, ending up with a harsh breakup and you blocking König everywhere, cutting him off completely.

And since then you haven’t spoken a word to him. Of course, he came to your apartment countless times, sent numerous gifts and bouquets of your favorite flowers, practically begging for forgiveness. But you knew better than that - it happened before, and even if you forgave him this time, in a few months time everything would be just as it was before.

At present, you were walking down a sidewalk, asphalt damp under your shoes from recent rain. You needed to get some groceries, since your fridge was just as empty as your stomach; and this late of an hour promised as little people around as possible, saving you from unfavorable company of men.

Just as you rounded a corner - a pair of huge strong arms - obviously male - seized your sensibly smaller body; a weird-smelling cloth was pressed tightly over your mouth and nose. In your panicked state you tried to fight back, not registering your own breathing, inhaling lungfuls of drug. Darkness filled your vision rapidly as dizziness overcame all your senses. You felt consciousness quickly slipping away from you, neon lights of convenience store shone brightly before your eyes still.

Panic seized your throat and it was becoming harder to breathe - you tugged and pulled on rough ropes around your limbs, trying to either snap them or slip out of tight confines, thrashing around the mattress relentlessly. König didn’t do anything, just watched you silently with his icy orbs from his spot, not exactly amused nor impressed by your behavior. Very soon fatigue took over your already exhausted body, you lay motionless once again, panting heavily as you glared at König’s dark form, vision still unfocused from the drug.

- Drop that. I made sure knots are tight, - he said coldly, continuing to observe you with a sharp stare of a hawk.

You just glared silently, trying to catch your breath. Your body felt heavy - extremely so, as if every limb was made out of lead and not flesh and bone; moving as much as one finger seemed harder than anything and you wondered how you managed to thrash around in the first place. Your head was aching irritably, not allowing you to think clearly - it had to be the side effect of whatever that was König made you inhale previously.

- König, do you realize what you did? - you managed to choke out, panic crashing over you in waves as realization of your current situation finally hit you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you tried to breathe evenly, but it did little to calm you down.

König just leaned in, cupping the side of your face with one of his huge hands, his thumb swiped under your eye, wiping salty tears away with calloused fingertip. You closed your eyes, averting your face from his touch. And oh, he didn’t like it.

König gripped bottom part of your face, force of his grip squeezed your cheeks together as he turned your head forcibly towards himself, making you squeal quietly as you faced him.

- You tried to leave me. And you are very dear to me. I can’t let this happen, - König explained, his voice calm, alarmingly calm. His scarred lips were pressed into a thin pale line, giving a little clue of his rage.

It was another side of him, completely different from what you used to see - a calm, ruthless and collected one; one that you could only imagine, based off some rumors you’ve heard about him and small cracks in his friendly mask König was too careless to hide from you during your relationship. You got glimpses of it a few times - when some drunk dude tried to hit on you when you and König were in the bar together, or when you mentioned how nice one of your male coworkers was. You always made one brutal mistake of brushing it all off, blaming it on König’s tiredness or fierce personality. And that’s where it led you.

- So what are you gonna do now? Keep me here forever? - you tried to scoff, but your trembling voice was way too weak to do so.

König cocked his eyebrow at your brave words, ghost of a smile played on his pursed lips. He shrugged lightly, grip of his fingers on your cheeks eased as he caressed them endearingly with rough fingertips, tickling you slightly.

- If that’s what it takes to keep you with me - then yes, - he shrugged slightly, propping his chin on his free hand, not a single emotion could be deciphered in his voice. These words made your blood turn cold.

He heaved a deep sigh at your frightened expression and trembling body, letting go of your face and reclining into his chair.

- Schatzi, you know I hate this just as much as you do. You think I’m enjoying this? - he asked, his tone was somehow sad and exhausted. But yes, you indeed thought, knew he enjoyed this. You kept silent, choking on your silent sobs, now being extremely aware of thick ropes digging painfully into your soft skin. Panic attack was full on taking over you, suffocating you with numerous sobs, body tensing and shaking incessantly, tears blurring your thus poor vision.

- Now, this all may end if you stop being a little bitch and start acting like an actual adult. We didn’t finish our conversation that last time, and you blocking me everywhere doesn’t make things any easier, - König said, his ice-blue eyes boring holes in your head. But you couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind his words, your brain short-circuited with fear and panic, turning you into a weeping shaking mess.

König heaved another sigh. He got up from his chair, taking a few steps towards your bed and dropping to his knees in front of it, so that his head was right against yours. His hand once again came to caress the side of your face affectionately, tangling into your messy hair and massaging your scalp, cooing soothingly at you.

- I know baby, I know. You need to rest. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. And then, once you’re strong and rested, we’ll talk again. And we’ll sort everything out and be happy again, just like we used to be, hmm? - König murmured softly as he always did to calm you down during hard times. But it only made you weep harder.

König pressed his lips against your cold forehead, leaving a chaste kiss as he inhaled lungfuls of your scent. He then nuzzled his forehead against yours, mumbling quietly:

- You can’t imagine how much I missed you. How could you do this to me? Hurt me so much even though I only want the best for you?

He peppered your face with small kisses, whispering small nothings and caressing your shuddering back. This made you feel nauseous. Your consciousness started to slip away again, your vision darkening rapidly. And just before blacking out, you heard König’s voice, one you loved so dearly once, utter:

- You’re mine, always will be. I’ll make sure of that.

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Obedience Training.

Pairing: Yandere!Illumi x Reader (HxH).

Commissioned by the very lovely @h2o2-and-baking-soda.

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Pet Play, Dehumanization, and Controlling Behavior.

The ring was beyond repair.

It was the ugly kind of damage, too – the gold chipped and dented, some parts entirely flattened while others had scratched and tarnished to the point of virtual unrecognizability. The jewel itself (a diamond the color of the sky just before sunrise and the size of the nail on your pointer finger) had been pried out of its casing and polished with the blunt side of the hammer you’d pilfered from collection of one of the more forgetful servants. Any fragments that might’ve been worth salvaging were then washed down the sink of your en suite, and the near-microscopic remnants glistened against the table’s dark mahogany – twinkling whenever they caught the ample sunlight.

It'd been his mother’s ring; albeit, one of countless. Breaking it in such an obviously deliberate way had been a stupid thing to do, and a part of you must’ve known that while you were doing it. A part of you must’ve basked in the idiotic rage of it all, must’ve been dying to see what Illumi would be like when he couldn’t hide behind those big, blank eyes and that unreadable expression. As hazy as it seemed, you could remember being excited to see how Illumi would react, what he thought he could do to you that he hadn’t already put you through.

Now, though, standing next to him as he evaluated the damage, watching as those dark, glossy eyes skirted from the splintered wood to the decimated ring to the sparkling residue…

You weren’t excited, anymore.

Several seconds passed in silent paralysis. Images of braided rope and rusted chains and broken legs flashed through your subconscious, but he managed to draw you out of your spiraling thoughts with a low hum, a startling click of his tongue. Finally, he turned toward you and raised a hand, and you braced yourself for the feeling his fist around your neck, two fingers piercing the fragile bone of your skull, his pointed nails clawing out your eyes and leaving you to ble—

His palm came to rest on top of your head, petting over your hair gently. “Sweetheart,” he muttered with a tone as warm and as affectionate as a corpse in a snowstorm. “Would you come with me?”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. You nodded, the gesture stilted and jerky, and Illumi offered an approving smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, letting his hand fall to your wrist. He pressed a lingering kiss into the top of your head before tugging you gently towards the door.

Neither of you spoke as he guided you through the halls of his mansion. Usually, you could count on running into one of the sociopaths that made up his family or a member of their bloodthirsty staff whenever you left your room, but today, his sprawling home seemed to be vacant, lifeless, as empty as the killers who dwelled inside of it. Steadily, you moved downward, the marble walls turning to rough stone, the filtered sunlight soon traded out for the artificial glow of dim gas lamps. He didn’t drag his feet or try to prolong your walk to the gallows, but he didn’t rush, either, didn’t seem to be in any rush to carry out your inevitably punishment. Eventually, he came to a stop in front of a simple wooden door – unremarkable in every aspect save for the deep well of dread it managed to dredge up inside of you.

With little ceremony, the door was pushed open and you were ushered inside of ahead of him. Your attention quickly fell onto the object most immediately in front of you: a dog crate.

It was almost shockingly mundane; not overly massive, but big enough for a large pitbull or golden retriever, the bars thin but close together and the bottom cushioned by a small bed with pink and white paw prints splattered across it. A handful of miscellaneous items had been laid on top of it. Your attention caught on the collar, first, the cutesy type with a bell and fake (or, knowing Illumi, very real) gemstones studded into the leather and a matching leash, and then headband with what couldn’t be—

Illumi moved past you, approaching the crate and taking up the undeniably, indisputably dog-eared headband. He turned it over in his hands once, then twice, before speaking. “Strip.”

It sounded like gibberish; partially muffled by the static buzzing over your conscious mind and made even more difficult to process by your own unwillingness to do so. “What?”

“Strip,” he repeated. “Or I’ll break every bone in your right hand.”

It was the specificity of the threat (paired with the implication that your left wouldn’t be long to follow) that had your shaking hands reaching for the hem of your shirt and hauling it over your head. You looked towards him for approval after every shed article, but he only seemed to notice your obedience at all when you stood bare and vulnerable in front of him, completely unprotected from both his prying gaze and the chill of the damp dungeon air. You started to move towards him, but he stopped you with a quick shake of his head, a new softness to his expression. “Kneel.”

With a shallow breath, you complied, lowering yourself onto your knees. Now, now, he took his time, his terrible eyes raking over your trembling form as he came to stand in front of you. The collar was fastened around your neck deftly, the leash allowed to hang loose and pool in your lap. He was more careful with the headband – meticulously lining it up with your ears, your face before sliding it into place with a satisfied hum. In a very distant, very muted way, you found that you were surprised less that your hitman-turned-kidnapper would have a pet play lair hidden away in some dark corner of his basement, and more that the aforementioned kidnapper would use that pet play lair to dress you up as a dog, rather than a cat. Illumi was as cat-like as a man could be – silent and skulking, prone to digging his claws into what he loved most – but the more you thought about it, the more sense it made. Cats were smart and sly and perfectly capable of surviving on their own, whereas dogs were stupid and clumsy and almost painfully reliant on their owners. People get cats because they want something that can choose to love them back. People get dogs because they want something that doesn’t have another choice.

“I--Illumi,” you managed, his name still awkward and bitter on your tongue. “I… I’m really sorry, and I’ve learned my lesson, and—”

One second, you were staring at his feet, and the next, your head was snapped to the side, a searing pain stitched deeply into your cheek. His open palm slipped downward, cupping your chin and tilting your head back, forcing you to face him properly. “Good pets don’t talk.” His tone was shockingly sweet, coercive, as if he was trying to explain something very simple to a very stupid child. “Good pets only follow commands. Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Tears were starting to gather in the corners of your eyes, a tight knot lodging itself at the base of your throat, but you did your best to keep both at bay. You started to nod, then thought better of it, straightening your back and squaring your shoulders, trying to communicate the only thing you could seem to think – please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me – without giving him a reason to land another blow. In the end, he rewarded you with the ghost of a smile, his free hand held in front of your mouth. “Good puppy. Now lick.”

You hesitated, but the steady ache pounding in your cheek was enough to make you swallow your pride. Your tongue darted out from between trembling lips, and with no small amount of trepidation, you lapped over the back of his closed fist. He let you begin to pull away before moving – before forcing two fingers into your open mouth and pressing the pads of his digits into the back of your throat. You gagged, your body instinctually recoiling, but he didn’t relent, his thumb digging into your jaw as he held you in place. Your hands shot to his thighs, the tears you’d forced back resurfacing and flooding down your cheeks, but he didn’t budge, didn’t pull away until you were gasping and breathless and utterly humiliated. Finally, he drew back, wiping his spit-soaked digits on your shoulder as his eyes moved from your open mouth to your hands, still balled around the fabric of his pants. “I have something upstairs for those,” he said, voice dripping with all the warmth and affection he usually denied you. “I’ll forgive you this time, puppy, but good pets shouldn’t be able to grab.”

He reached down, taking you by the leash. You were too detached to resist as he half-led, half-dragged you towards the crate. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking your head, from stammering out little ‘no, no, no’s as his fist curled around your collar and forced you past the metal gate and into the confined space, suddenly so much smaller than it’d seemed from the outside. You had just enough time to scramble for the door before Illumi slammed it shut, letting the clasp fall into place and leaving you withering inside the makeshift cage. You couldn’t stop yourself – hands curling around the bars as you looked toward him with your most pleading expression, but Illumi only shook his head. “You don’t have to sulk. Maybe, with some time, we’ll be able to move your bed somewhere warmer.”

He paused, his grin widening into the first real smile you’d ever earned from him.

“After you’ve proved you can be a good dog, of course.”

[mamawasatesttube]

an excerpt of the "kon being a scary alien creature" wip im HOPING i finish + post later tonight...!

And then—

Something squeezes his hand.

Tim freezes.

The feeling spreads from his hand up his wrist all the way to his shoulder, and from there over his whole body, an invisible blanket draped over him like a second skin. The ropes tied around his wrists and ankles slide against each other like snakes, moving as if with a mind of their own; they loosen enough for him to easily escape their grasp, but stay draped over him so that it still looks like he’s tied up.

The invisible blanket-cocoon over him squeezes his whole body, just slightly. It’d probably be freaky if it wasn’t so familiar.

Kon, Tim thinks, his heart thundering with relief.

Wild hope zings through his chest, and he drags his tired gaze from the men at the table up into the dark warehouse. It takes him a second, but he spots a pair of eyes glinting up there, catlike; he twitches two fingers in a weak greeting, and the gentle weight wrapped around him gives him another squeeze.

Kon’s here. Holy shit, Tim’s not dying tonight after all.

Kon drops out of the air and lands just outside the circle of light from the lamp on the center of the table. He lets himself make enough of a sound to catch the four mens’ attention; all of them whip around, peering into the darkness.

“Who’s there?!” Goatee demands, reaching for his gun. “Show yourself!”

“Well, if you insist.”

Kon stalks forward, into the light. His jacket hangs from his shoulders, his footsteps eerily quiet in the darkness. He carries himself with a predatory, catlike grace; his face is deceptively calm, but every taut line of his body screams with fury. His smile spells danger.

Tim’s breath leaves him in a rush of pure, heady relief. He’s safe.

“Aw, hell—” Glasses whips out his gun and fires—BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!—three shots, right at Kon’s chest.

Kon raises an eyebrow. Glances down at himself. Brushes a speck of imaginary dust off his shoulder.

“Okay, seriously.” He gestures at the House of El crest on his chest, clearly amused. “Does the big, red S on my chest mean nothing to you? I know you guys can’t be that dumb.”

[daydreams-after-dark]

Blindfolds | Chan x Reader x mystery man (Minho)

chan x fem reader x minho.

Chan helps you fulfil your fantasy of having a "stranger" sleep with you

Word count: I think about 3k?

MDNI . Content warning below.

————- WARNINGS: unsafe sex, threesome, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal fingering, blowjob, orgasm, slight choking, cum eating, mystery sex, blindfold—————-

You walk down the dimly lit hallway towards one of the unused bedrooms in the holiday house you and your friends were staying at. You and your best friend, Chan decided the scenario will take place in a space that no one is using, to really maximize the mysteriousness of it the whole thing.

Butterflies are going crazy in your stomach, and you tug your satin robe tighter around your waist to try to settle them down. You feel rather sexy and feminine in the robe, the cream floral print against a gold background makes you feel like a queen.

You approach the designated door and knock.

“Come in.” Chan's voice calls from the inside. You swallow hard and push open the door.

You're immediately taken aback. The room is stunning. The decor is dark and moody, with the walls painted a dark grey blue, and the furniture looks as though it’s antique. Paintings of abstract naked women have been hung around the room.

There are various stained-glass lamps, emanating a seductive glow, and there is music playing low in the background. It sounds like French music. A woman’s voice seductively fills the room.

Then there’s the bed. Huge, King sized, so plush and high set. Chan is laying propped up against the dark timber headboard, he almost looks lost leaning amongst the generous number of over sized plush pillows. He’s wearing black tracksuit pants and a muscle tee. It looks out of place in such a sensually styled room.

“What do you think?” Chan gestures around the room.

“Th- this,” you stammer. “It’s amazing Chan.” You move towards the bed, stretching out your hand to touch the dark green quilt. It’s luxurious on your fingertips as you run your hand along the fabric and move closer to the head of the bed. The only thought going through your head is: Someone’s going to fuck you on this.

You perch on the side of the bed facing away from Chan, your feet barely reaching the floor. That's when you notice the black blindfold laid out neatly on the bedside table. Next to it is a bottle of coconut oil.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Chan reaches out to touch your hand that’s resting beside you on the bed.

You inhale deeply and then slowly release the breath. How are you feeling?  It’s a mixture of feelings really. You're so very nervous. That you already know. But, you're also… excited. The idea of what’s about to happen is truly thrilling to you.

You can't believe your best friend Chan agreed to help you fulfil this fantasy. Of being blindfolded and fucked by a mystery person.

Chan smiles “We gotta get you ready!” He practically jumps off the bed and moves around to the side of the bed, taking your hand and helping you slide off the bed.

You've already discussed the details of how you're going to do this, covering safe words and safe gestures, what positions we are going to be in. These had been relayed to the mystery person who was going to be participating. The man coming to fuck you wouldn't be a stranger though. It was one of seven other men, that Chan knows extremely well. You've met them all too, and to be fair, you'd be thrilled to have any of them fuck you.

You stand in front of Chan facing away from him. There is tension in the air and your breath feels wobbly. He steps closer to you, and you can feel his breath on your neck and a pang in your chest. You'd really wish he'd kiss you. Chan doesn't know how much you actually want him. But he's never shown any signs of wanting you as more than a friend. He slowly reaches around, careful not to touch you too much, you wish he would, and pulls at your robe’s rope-tie.

It comes loose easily allowing your robe to fall open. Chan delicately pulls your robe off your shoulders letting it drop to the floor. You hadn’t put any underwear on, and now you're standing completely naked in front of Chan. And only Chan.

It feels extremely intimate and you're feeling self conscious. He hasn’t been this close to your naked body before. Goosebumps form on your skin. It isn’t cold in the room. Chan had thought of that too and had made the room a comfortable temperature. He’s so fucking considerate. You smile to myself.

You close your eyes and compose yourself. Fuck. You're really doing this.

Chan takes your hand again and grabs the blindfold in the other. He steadies you as you climb onto the bed where he resumes the position of laying down and propped up against a pillow and headboard. He directs you to sit between his legs facing away from him, and carefully he places the blindfold over your eyes and securing it at the back of your head. Your senses immediately heighten. This feels so erotic.

“Lean back on me.” He whispers as he guides you to lean back onto his fully clothed body. You can feel his hard, toned muscles flexing underneath you and his breathing is strained. Is he nervous? You can feel an erection beginning to dig into your back. Is this turning him on?

You imagine what this must look like, your exposed, naked body with Chan’s strong legs on either side of yours. You don’t know what to do with your hands so you rest them on your stomach. You don’t know where Chan’s arms and hands are, only that they aren’t touching you. You wish he’d wraps his arms around you. You wish he’d caress your body.

For a moment you try to imagine what it would be like if he did touch you. The sensation of him cupping your breasts, pinching a nipple, sliding his hands over your body. Then you remember why you're here, for a mystery fuck. A small moan escapes you. Did he hear you?

Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, resting his chin on your left shoulder. He's so close. “You already imagining a stranger inside you, hmm?” he whispers. You whimper. His voice turns you on beyond belief.

You don’t have chance to answer because there is a knock on the door. You suck in a breath. This is actually happening.

“Come in.” Chan calls out. You hear the door creak open and then close.

“Are you ready to begin?” whispers Chan in your ear.

“Mmm hmm, yes.” you reply.

“Good, because I think you are going to really enjoy this.”

He takes hold of your hands and places them on the bed either side of your body, using his hands to hold them down out of the way so you can’t go ahead and touch your anonymous lover. You had requested this. It makes you feel like you're being forcefully held in place, although you know you can change things if you want.

You feel the mattress dip slightly. Someone is climbing onto the bed near your feet. Who can it be? Is it Changbin? Or could it be Minho? Felix? Could it be Jisung?

A hand touches your ankle. You shudder, then very slowly and delicately it makes it way up to the side of your knee. Their touch is light and feathery. You swallow.

Then you feel a mouth, a moist, plush mouth just above your knee. You think he is about to take the kisses up your leg, but instead takes his kisses back down, making his way down to your ankle. It feels so sensual. Who do these lips belong to?

Chan releases your arms for just a moment so he can lift your legs over each of his legs, which are spread out wide on the bed. Then he goes back to gently pinning your hands to the mattress.

You sense the other man moving closer and a mouth reappears on your skin. This time it’s your inner right thigh. He drags his tongue from inside your leg near your knee all the way up your inner thigh, sending tingles through your body, but he stops before he gets anywhere near your pussy. He does this again, and then mirrors the action with your other leg.

His hands try to push your legs a little wider and Chan assists by moving his own legs wider again, forcing your legs to part just a little more. You're ready, wide open for whatever you're about to receive.

The touching stops, but you can feel him kneeling in front of you. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly in anticipation.

You're pleasantly startled when you feel a warm liquid landing on your breasts. The oil. Chan must have warmed it up somehow in preparation. You moan at the sensation of the oil dripping down around and between your breasts. You suck your breath between your teeth when you feel a pair of hands cupping your breasts, then squeezing and massaging the flesh in slow, but firm circles.

His hands slide easily over your oiled skin, and you squeal slightly when he squeezes your nipples. As the pinches and flicks become more aggressive you can’t help but arch your back and rock your hips at the sensation.

Chan shushes you. “We need to stay still and take it, remember what we agreed to?” That’s right, part of this was you needed to stay as still as possible, it was all part of being restrained. You compose yourself and stop moving. It’s so difficult but you're determined to play the part properly.

“Good girl.” Chan growls low. Good girl? You love those words.

More warm oil is applied to your stomach. There is so much that it coats your entire abdomen and runs down towards your core, and trickles down where your pussy lips meet. You feel bad for the bedding, it’s probably going to be a mess.

It feels so fucking sexy with your body being this slick and slippery. You feel like a goddess being worshipped and adored, yet at the same time you feel like a dirty whore who doesn’t care who fucks her.

You wait for the hands to return to your body, anticipating them all over your stomach and you moan and pant with the need to be touched now. You're desperate and on the verge of begging.

“Pl-please… please touch me.” you say.

“He wants you to call him ‘Sir’”, Chan whispers.

“Please touch me again… Sir.” you pant.

You let out a long, low moan as he pours the oil at the top of your pussy. It runs down through your lips and onto your asshole. You can’t help but try to wriggle with pleasure and frustration. Chan squeezes your hand, a reminder that you need to stay still. You don’t know where his hands will land next and the anticipation is pure agony.

The stranger lifts your legs up bending them so your knees are up near your chest. Chan removes one of his hands from yours to grip under your knee to help pin it against your chest, whilst the other man pins your right leg.

You feel the heel of a hand press firmly against your clit and begin to move in circular motions, much like they did with your breasts. It provides a grinding sensation that shoots pleasure deep inside of your abdomen.

“Fuck that feels so good… Sir.” you whimper as his hand swirls and presses on you for what feel like and eternity.

He then drags two fingers beginning at your clit all the way down to your asshole, dragging the oil and your slickness all the way down. Your cunt clenches as his fingers pass by the entrance, not stopping to explore. He presses a finger to your rim.

“Aaaah!!” you gasp at the sensation of the pressure.

He massages his finger against you, and you know you're going to open up easily for him. You are so aroused and so slick from yourself and the oil that it doesn’t take much for the tip of his finger to breech the entrance. You grip the sheets with your hands and pant shallow breaths as his finger slips in deeper, deeper, all the way in.

“You’re being so good for him.” Chan’s words of praise in your ear make you melt around the stranger’s finger and you're ready for more.

“Sir… please.. I need… can you put in another finger?”

He slowly removes his finger and you feel two fingers at your rim now. He pushes them in, going ever so slowly. It’s a stretch but he’s moving slowly enough that you're adjusting along the way, making the stretch feel achingly good. He must be experienced at this sort of thing. He knows exactly what to do.

You bring your left arm up and wrap it around Chan’s neck, as whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

The volume of your moans and whimpers grow so loud now that it’s drowning out the sound of the French woman’s singing. The man moves his fingers in and and out of your ass maintaining a relentlessly slow pace. The burning sensation with every drag of his fingers makes you cry out.

“Faster… harder… Sir I need… more.”

He quickly builds up the pace. Chan releases your hand to bring his hand to your neck, wrapping it around your throat and squeezing slightly but not enough to cut off air. Then he brings his thumb up to your lips. You open your mouth allowing him to slip his thumb inside. You pull at the hair on the back of his head and he pushes his thumb further into your mouth. The other man continues to fuck your ass with his fingers.

A mouth lands on your pussy. His tongue swirls around and through your lips. The tip of his tongue slides inside of you. Chan starts to fuck your mouth with his thumb, pushing it deep into your mouth roughly. You want him to ruin you.

You're practically screaming from the glorious agony, your senses are on overload.

Chan removes his thumb. “Is this okay?” he checks in with you.

“Yes… But… I want his cock now.”

“Ahhh yes, I bet you do. Let’s sort you out, yeah?”

The fingers inside your ass are removed and you feel the man shift his position.

His thighs press against the underside of yours. Then… you feel the tip of a cock. He pushes it against your opening, making you let out a pathetic whine. Your body is begging for him to push his cock in.

But he doesn't push it in. Moments pass and still nothing happens. What is happening? A sense of panic makes it’s way into your body. Has he changed his mind?

“He wants to know if we can take the blindfold off?” Chan asks.

You pause. He hasn’t changed his mind. You quickly decide what you want to do. Whoever it is wants you to be right there with him, making this moment together. Not him fucking you, but you fucking each other.

You bite your bottom lip. “Okay.” you say shakily. Your breath quickens at the thought of coming face to face with the man who has been pleasuring you so amazingly.

Chan takes over holding your right leg up and two hands come to rest on the sides of your blindfold, the tip of his cock slips into you slightly as he leans in towards you, giving you a tease of what’s to come. You can’t wait until he is all the way inside.

Your blindfold slides off but your vision is slightly blurry. You blink to adjust your eyes and the man before you becomes clear.

Minho.

He is looking at you expectantly, nervously, like you might run away at the sight of him.

You reach up and cup his face. His cheeks are flushed and lips pink and swollen. He isn’t even being the one fucked right now but he looks like he is.

“Hey.” you say with a dazed smile.

“Hey.” He replies. “Is this okay…do you want to keep…”

You wrap an arm around his waist and pull him down on top of you. His hands reach around to your ass and he lifts your hips up and pushes himself all the way inside of you.

Minho is finally free to make noises now and he makes long low moans as he rocks his hips into you. He looks down to where you're joined to watch his cock glide in and out.

You still have one arm wrapped around Chan’s neck, your other explores Minho’s body. His toned body undulates like some sort of exotic python. He’s even more skilled with his cock than with those magic fingers. He brings his mouth down onto yours mirroring his tongue with his thrusts. A skilled, diligent lover.

You melt together as his long, languid thrusts become deeper and you’re being pressed into Chan’s hard cock.

Without warning, Minho pulls out and flips you over in one fluid move so that you’re on all fours.

You look to the head of the bed and see Chan’s hard erection inside his sweat pants. You’re about to reach for it when you’re dragged down the bed by Minho. You look into Chan’s eyes longingly as you’re being pulled out of reach and he just stares back at you. You want to please him so badly.

Minho pushes his cock back inside of you making you cry out. Pleasure washes over you, mixing with the angst of yearning for Chan. He slides his thumb over your asshole and presses it inside. “Ahhh.. Yes, Minho.” You cry, squeezing your eyes tight.

He pushes it in all the way and rests his palm and fingers on your tail bone. His grip is perfect to rock you on and off his cock. You love feeling so filled up. You’re so close now.

Chan looks fucked out, like he’s on another planet. His engorged, swollen red cock is now out of his pants and in his hand, but he’s not doing anything with it. He’s just holding it absentmindedly. His eyes glazed over as he stares at you.

Minho must notice him too. “Kitten?” he pants. “Do you want to help Chan out? Make him come?”

You look at Chan eagerly. You’re practically salivating.

“Come over here Chan. It’s okay.” Minho encourages Chan over but he doesn’t move. “Before I cum.” He adds, hoping that will spur him on.

Chan, as if possessed, gets up onto his knees and crawls his way towards you. Once he is close enough he offers you the head of his cock and you take hold of it with one hand and guide him into your mouth. Chan whimpers at the touch. You lick your tongue along his shaft and over the tip before taking him deep into your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” Chan whines high pitched.

“Don’t use your hands. Make him work for it.” Minho growls.

You do as you’re told and release your grip but keeping him in your mouth.

Something in Chan snaps. He grabs the back of your head and starts plunging his cock into your mouth relentlessly. He tangles his fingers in your hair as he fucks your face without restraint. It makes you gag. It’s hard to take him and your eyes water.

You look up at him, he’s staring at you while his cock thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you almost choke. Seeing Chan using you like this while Minho pounds into you from behind, is all too much.

You cry out around Chan’s cock as your legs shake and your cunt clenches around Minho. Your arms and legs buckle underneath you but Minho is there to hold you steady. He wraps an arm underneath you, keeping you in position.

Minho suddenly pulls out, painting your back in his cum with a long moan.

Chan growls and moans and pulls his cock out to massage his release into your waiting mouth and tongue. There is so much, coating your tongue and dribbling down your chin. He leans back onto his heels, shaking as he watches you swallow everything in your mouth, and then use your fingers to scoop the remaining cum on your chin and licking your fingers clean. He looks horrified and startled. Oh shit, have you done something wrong?

Chan quickly gets off the bed and pulls up his trackpants. “Fuck. I am so sorry.” He is so flustered.

“I’ll get the towels.” Minho announces and hops off the bed.

“Chan?” You whimper. He doesn’t seem to hear you. He’s is freaking out. “Chan!” You repeat, “I need you to hold me.”

Chan looks down at you, as though he is scared. What is going through his mind? Cautiously, he edges closer to the bed and sits beside you. You’re still in an all fours position waiting to have your back wiped clean, but you kneel up to let Chan wrap his arms around you. You nuzzle into his chest. Why is he so upset with you?

You feel him relax against you and he strokes your hair. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He whispers over and over. You don’t understand. You fucking loved that he did that to you. You’ve wanted it for so long.

“Oh Channie!” You cry. “I fucking want you, you idiot!”

Chan looks at you warily. “Really?”

You reach up and cup his cheek. “Yes.” You whisper, your eyes dropping to his lips. He closes the gap capturing you in a heated kiss. “Stay with me tonight, Chan.”

“Of course, baby girl. Of course."

Minho returned, cleaned you up and helped you and Chan hop into bed.

"I'm glad you two have finally got your act together." he said laughing as he said goodnight and left you and Chan to snuggle together.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @kangnina @weareapackofstrays

[lethalchiralium]

No More | [2] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: WOW. i did not expect that to blow up as hard as it did. thank you so much!! [this seriously might become a series. we’ll see.] [also, that means you’re getting a backstory. a very… need for speed backstory ;)] i really do think this is shitty but that’s all part of the plan baby!

warnings: cussing, alcohol, simon drinks to forget but he always remembers, non-sexual nudity, mentions of genocide, mentions of trauma, mentions of past careers, mentions of planes, mentions of crashing, mentions of american citizenship (you don’t have to be from there if you don’t want to be! i live there and i don’t want to be here! it’s just important from a certain aspect of your previous career.) simon is also a lot more lovey when he’s drunk.

summary: He’s convinced he should leave. He’s convinced himself that you are better off without him, better alone than being hurt by a shell of a man like him. He barely got a foot out of the door before he changed his mind.

part one here! | SERIES MASTERLIST

He had more bourbon in the past two months than he’s ever had in his entire life. The sickly sweet pull and the burn down his throat was a comforting pain as agony ripped through his heart. He sat alone in your shared apartment, a dim lamp being the only light in the entire space. He hadn’t gotten sick of the bourbon like he usually does, he couldn’t move it from the coffee table - he had sat forwards, arms resting on his knees and hands dug into his hair.

He was bone tired. He hadn’t slept in two days; it was a normal occurrence now that you had gone on that mission. He had to take leave so he didn’t rip Price’s throat out for not letting him go with you. The ache in his head still hadn’t gone away with the aspirin he took a few hours ago and the full bottle of his best bourbon down the hatch. The night wasn’t flying by like it did last night, he could hear the clock on the wall tick as he wallowed in his own misery.

Sometimes it took him weeks to bring up the scalpel and separate Ghost and Simon, divide the halves into quarters and dissect what actions could have been better performed to produce a better outcome - essentially, what he did to fuck up the one good thing he had going for him, and how he could fix it. He took your words to heart, and he was taking a very long time to stew over everything he could have done that would’ve have made him look like he didn’t trust you. Simon trusted you with every fiber of his being, he loved you more than that. He knew you were an amazing fighter, your fire to help those in need could never be extinguished.

He realized later rather than sooner that Ghost was why you didn’t trust him - Ghost was protecting the person Simon loves the most. And maybe, that included when you were home too. Keeping Simon locked away so he didn’t get hurt, so Simon didn’t get hurt by you.

If he had half a bottle less, he would’ve gone up to bed - but the room felt suffocating without you. He couldn’t lay in a bed that smelled like you if it became one of the last things he had of you in case you were killed, so he had cat napped on the couch for the past nine weeks. If he had a bottle less, he wouldn’t have thought about how his absence wouldn’t hurt you as much as Ghost does - if he had the £348 he spent on alcohol back, he wouldn’t have thought how this place felt like your home. Never his, he also categorized it underneath Ghost’s half - keeping his love at arms length so his self-destruction doesn’t hurt you.

He was drunk. Piss drunk, since he had never gave himself time to sleep off the bourbon. Ghost was cracked in the middle, and Simon was punching out holes in Ghost’s façade. Ghost never allowed Simon to feel, never allowed him to connect with anyone - a self-defense mechanism. But now? Ghost was almost gone, and he felt like himself now. And God, did it hurt.

How could he have done this? How could have pushed you away so far that your rope was dwindling by a thread, how could he have hurt the one thing that made him begin to unlock the cage around his freezing cold heart? He felt it in his chest, the raw burn and tug of desperation - he knew that he had to cut the thread.

He didn’t want to, he would give anything to not let you go - but Simon couldn’t let you keep getting damaged by his defense measures.

If he had no alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t have gotten up like he did. He wouldn’t have waltzed to the guest room, messily packed his duffle and brought it to the living room. He wouldn’t have grabbed a pen and an old pad of paper. And he definitely wouldn’t have written the note he was writing now.

He folded the note, lifting up the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and setting it down on the table, putting the bottle on the corner to hold the note down. His hand grabbed his duffle and he stood and he made his way to the front door. He slipped on his boots, only caring enough to tuck the laces into his socks before Simon went to open the door. He took the time to turn around, gazing at the dim apartment that smelled like you, that held all of your important belongings. It was the place that cradled you when you were down, the place he kept falling for you, the place he would kneel to the kiss the ground you walked on.

This was the place he loved you.

Honestly, in the back of his mind, he knew his sober ass would walk home after a week.

Before he could open the door, the lock turned and the door burst open - he threw his duffle into the adjacent kitchen and was about to fight. That was before he saw you.

Dirt and blood caked on your face, your duffle hanging from your hand, your hoodie tattered and your neck bruised - and he watched as the tears raced down your face. He could barely even begin to speak when you flung your duffle inside and dove into his chest, arms wrapped around his chest so hard, he thought you would pop his lungs.

“Baby, baby, hey,” He cooed, his hand immediately held your head against his chest - he pulled you both out of the way so he could close the door and lock it, now he was immediately sobered up. Your sobs were loud now, your hands gripped onto the back of his shirt so hard he was convinced it would rip.

He tried to pull you away but you refused, begging, “Please, pl-please don’t let me go.”

“Where’s Cerby?” He spoke gently, keeping his hand on the back of your head, feeling dirt crusted into your scalp. You must have come straight here.

“With K-Keegs.” You mumbled, muffled by his thin t-shirt with a faded band logo on it. He sighed, sad that his dog wouldn’t be home for a few days but he let the feeling go. All he needed to focus on was you, and definitely not his foolish actions from literally three minutes prior.

He hummed then, his free hand moved to underneath your thigh - he pulled it up so you would get the hint, which you did. Your arms moved from around his chest to around his neck and you jumped into his arms, caging your legs around his large waist as best you could. Both of his hands held the back of your thighs, he glanced to the kitchen and made sure both of the duffles were there and unharmed. They were, so he turned around and walked down the hallway to the bedroom he hadn’t used in since the last time you were home. He pushed the door open, turning on the warm light before walking into the ensuite bathroom.

He flicked on the light before moving to sit on the side of the bathtub, it creaked under your combined weight - you were sat firmly on his lap and his hands went to your back and head, cradling you.

“I’m gonna start a bath for you, love.” He spoke, his voice wavering with uncertainty as your arms wrapped tighter around his masked neck.

“No, no, please, don’t let go.” The tumble of words from your mouth made his grip on you tighter. He couldn’t imagine what happened, he didn’t want to - he thanked God that he decided to drink that entire bottle of bourbon a couple of hours ago. His mind was muddled, he could barely get any thought out of what could’ve happened. All he wanted to do now was help you.

He kissed the top of your head through his mask, dismissing the feeling of cloth against his lips and he gently pulled your head back, he gazed into your red-rimmed eyes. He whispered your name like a prayer, as if you were an angel - which you were to him. Even covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and grime, he would still be able to see your halo through any darkness. “Let me help, love. Let me help you feel better, then I won’t let you go for as long as you want.”

“I can’t.” The voice he heard was almost unrecognizable, he had never heard you sound so small. “I can’t, I can’t.”

He sighed, moving forwards to press the skull to your forehead - something he did when he knew you needed it. You physically relaxed when he did it, your back bent into his hand as you pushed every single ounce of weight onto him. His fingertips pressed into your spine, dragging up and down it from above your shitty old hoodie. He stayed like that for a few minutes, letting you cry against his mask. He gave you a bit of time before he pulled up your hoodie, you obliged and let him pull it over your head. You were just in your dirty black sports bra, and now he got a good look at you.

He felt bile rise in his throat. Your entire chest was spray painted in black bruises, he got a good look at the dark purplish handprint on your neck. He looked back up at you, your head faced to the side as you cried, ashamed.

“Oh, my love,” His hand returned to the back of your head, cradling it as he gazed at you. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You quickly shook your head, tears removing most of the grime on your cheeks. Your arms were now at your side, fiddling with the hem of his athletic shorts while you let out a broken sigh. His hands moved to lift you off of his lap, one hand didn’t stop touching you while he pulled off your boots, tossing them to the side before tugging off your holed socks. He made a mental reminder to buy you new socks at the base shop while he placed a hand on your back, guiding you with him as he moved to turn the faucet on. He turned it all the way up then back a little, the temperature you liked. He plugged the drain and put his hand underneath the flow of water, waiting for it to turn almost hot - normally, he would’ve made it extremely hot, you had always said you thought it was like being boiled like a lobster. But, he didn’t want to agitate your injuries. His hand moved from your back and didn’t break skin contact when he took your hand, still looking away from you but he still held your hand gently.

“You’re warm.” You mumbled, moving his hand up to settle on your cheek.

“I know, love.” He answered, turning back to you. His hand slipped from your face and down your side to your belt loops, undoing the buttons and zipper then pulling down your pants. He took your hands as you stepped out of your pants, watched as you kicked them behind you and he observed new pink scars, healed but still fresh. Surrounding them were black bruises, identical to the ones on your chest. He heard your whimpers of pain when you stood back up, his hand ghosted your side as he gazed at it, seeing identical black bruises again. Even if he felt sober, he knew that the adrenaline from you showing up injured would wear off and he would become sloppy. He didn’t hurry, he took his time as he pulled down the boxers you stole from him and toss them away. His hands found the bottom of your sports bra, your wince made him pause and look at your face again.

Fat tears still rolled down your cheeks, silent sobs left you as you kept your eyes closed. Your hands stayed at your side until he murmured, “Raise your arms please.” You did as you were told, he tugged it off quickly but not as painlessly as he wanted. You let out a loud wheeze that echoed throughout the bathroom, he placed his hand on your side again, his presence close to you as he leaned down and shut off the water. “‘m gonna pick you up, love.”

“Okay.”

He did as he had said, gently swooping you into his arms and placing you in the warm water that reached up to your collarbone. Your eyes opened again when he retreated from the tub, your gaze watched as he pulled out a towel from the closet and began to rummage through it.

“I almost died.”

Simon visibly froze as you turned back, your gaze now staring at the light above the tub. He peered around the door, hand clutching a washcloth with a pain he couldn’t soberly place. “Do…Do you want to tell me?”

You didn’t respond. He brought all of the materials to the side of the tub, he gently pet your head.

Simon, drunk as hell, bathed you with care. He didn’t speak a word and neither did you, you stared at the wall the whole time except when he tried to wash your hair. You let him move you under the faucet, rinse your hair for five minutes because he couldn’t tell if the soap was gone yet, let him dry you with a towel and dress you in new clothes.

You could barely keep your eyes open when he carried you to bed, tucking you in before he did himself. He watched as you curled into a ball, facing him and keeping your eyes on the sheets, your hand drew circles beside your face. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand, drowning the room in darkness and settled back onto the bed, watching you with bated breath.

“Got trapped in a burning truck.” Your voice almost spooked him, his eyebrows furrowed. You just stared at the gray sheets. “RPG’d the ground in front of us and flipped it. Knocked Logan and Keegs out. Hesh got launched from the driver’s windshield. Had to drag them out and triage them in an abandoned warehouse while trying to fight off the enemy. Got captured for a week. Keegs saved me.” You sniffled a little, your hand reached for his - he instantly took it. He squeezed your hand. “Had bad flashbacks. It had been a while since I’ve got stuck under burning metal and tortured. S’why I was crying.”

“How’re the boys?”

“Watchin’ Cerby and all as stubborn as always. All fine.” You mumbled, pressing his rough skin to your chapped lips.

A deafening silence settled then, your thumb threaded over the back of his hand while he felt your breath graze it. He began to feel drowsy, the slow turn-table of dizziness was coming back from earlier and all he wanted to do was place his head in your neck and just breathe. He needed you like he needed oxygen, you touch him and he felt like it was the first breath he’s ever taken.

“Sleep, baby.” He murmured, sliding down from his sitting position, underneath the soft duvet. He moved closer to you, settling his head so that he laid face to face with you. He could barely make out your nose and cheeks in the dim moonlight, but he could see the glisten of your eyes as they gazed at his.

“I haven’t had a PTSD episode since I left the US Naval Aviation division.” The voice he heard sounded nothing like what you normally do - it was small. Broken. Damaged. An echo of you.

He furrowed his brows, he thought he knew everything about you. Both your dad and childhood best friend were pilots, but you never specified what kind - and apparently neglected to tell him that you were one too. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a pilot?”

You sniffled, squeezing his hand and ignored his question. “Got shot down over enemy territory. Crash landed and had to pry my legs from my jet as the fire burned.” The sensation of his hand being squeezed tighter made his dizzy mind think that you were angry - but in reality, the memory of burning metal against your hands made you feel scared. You wanted to pull him closer, to have him shield you from your memories. Yet you kept talking, even if you recognized the hurt twang in his voice. “Had to fend for myself in an abandoned city just over the border in Ukraine. Stayed in that town for three weeks ‘til Special Forces came and found me.” You pulled his arm to your chest, pressing his hand into your cheek. “S’where I met Price. Almost shot him too, thought he was an enemy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the flashbacks?” His voice was softer then, he pressed his warm palm down to your jaw. “I could’ve helped you, my love.”

“‘Cause it’s not important now.” You murmured, both of your hands cradled his. “Wasn’t even s’posed to stay with 141, meant to go back to Miramar. Meant to get back in the air.” You took a quiet breath. “I fell for you and everything I knew went up in smoke.”

His heart dropped to the floor. It thumped against it, still pumping blood but it hurt in his chest.

“If I hadn’t given it up, I wouldn’t have you.”

“I would give up anything for you.” He whispered. “Don’t give up anything for me, darling. You deserve everything you have.”

“That means I deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me.” He immediately answered, his other hand went to settle on the duvet, tugging it up more. “You don’t deserve my problems, how fucked up I am.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.” He settled his hand on your side, feeling you breathe underneath his fingertips. “I’ve hurt you, not on purpose but I still did it.” His thumb circled on the duvet, you barely felt it as his voice became quieter. “You really hurt me when you walked away.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered, he couldn’t bear to hear you start to cry again. He paused, hand coming from your hip to completely take off his mask - something he had never done in your presence before. He tossed the mask away onto the floor as he moved forwards, placing his lips against your moonlight dusted cheek.

“I deserved it.” He answered, settling back and pulling your hands into his chest. “Made me think for a while.”

“You’re drunk.” A statement he didn’t deny, he pulled your hands upwards to his collarbone.

“I am.”

“Because of me?”

“Because I hurt you.” He answered, now pulling your hands to settle on his cheeks. “I want you to feel that I trust you, because I do.” He began to move your hands upwards, his eyes fluttered closed as your fingertips traced his warm face, tracing his eyebrows and dancing over his eyelids.

“Simon, you don’t have to let me do this.” Your hands paused, his own grip settled on your wrists. “I want you to be sober, you’ll be mad at me tomorrow.”

He scoffed, moving his head to kiss one of your palms, keeping his eyes closed as he whispered, “I could never be mad at you. Frustrated or upset? Yes, but angry? No.” He gently rubbed your arms, hands moving to settle on your own cheeks. “I’ve decided that you need to really know how much I trust you. How much faith I have in you. How proud I am of you.”

“You hurt me for so long.” Your voice cracked so heavily, fingertips grazing his forehead and memorizing his nose, coming down to trace his lips you knew well.

“I want to fix it.” His lips kissed your palm again, eyes opening to gaze at your dimly lit face. “Give me a chance.”

“I think this is most comfortable you’ve ever been to talk about things like this.” You remarked, hands stopping on his jaw, cradling it. “I want you to show me how much you trust me, but when you’re sober.”

He nodded in return, moving forwards to place a slow kiss on your lips. His hands moved to settle on the side of your head, pulling you forward just a little. When he broke the kiss, he placed another on the tip of your nose. “You’ll know how much I treasure you until the end of time.”

“Okay.”

“Just don’t leave me like that ever again.” His voice was low, one hand going to trace down your body. “Ever.”

You nodded as you moved closer to him, chest to chest. He removed his other hand from your cheek and slid his arm under his pillow.

“Sleep, love. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

_______________

comment for part 3! (part three here!!)

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Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Three: Rick Grimes + Bondage.

He had promised you he'd try anything you asked him for, whether that was simply getting home or something more serious. He would try his hardest to give it to you.

Rick knows that you give your all. You are the perfect image of a wonderful person, a wonderful stepmother to Carl, but most of all, you are a wonderful wife. One who craves to be one with Rick. You two are the power couple of Alexandria.

You think that your wants expisally this want would be denied. You all have gone through too much trauma to deal with this sort of request. Yet the idea plays over and over in your head. The thought of riding Rick while his arms are bound above his head. Tied to the metal frame of the old bed, the way you'd hope he'd beg for your mercy as you tried not to give into his demands.

Secretly wishing that he'd somehow break the bounds around his wrist and flip the two of you over, his cock wedged into your soft walls. You'd love the feeling of the air being punched from your lungs as Rick fucked you with an unforgiving pace, nothing less for his girl.

So that's what happened. Asking Rick to let you have utter and complete control. The bedroom window shades are drawn, and the bedside table lamp brings warmth to the room. A sexy black lingerie number hugs your curves as you sit on Rick's lap. You ensured Rick was comfortable before grabbing and looping the rope around the metal bedframe.

Rick had laid down the minute after the question hit the air around the both of you. Muscles bludge as you move his arms above his head and wrap the rope around his wrists.

A few re-tying of the rope and a few violent shakes of Rick's writs, and he's bound. Unable to touch you or kiss you. Your hips move at an unforgiving, slow pace. His cock pulses from the rolling of your hips.

It's not until you pull Ricks's length from out of his boxers and tease yourself with the bulbous head of his cock do you start to wish that there weren't ropes tied around his wrists. Instead, he could just do the work for you. Slip into your slick wallls, and fuck you at whatever pace he wants.

Except that's not what's happening. Instead, your legs sit on either side of his thighs and slowly work down the length of his cock with ease. Letting every ridge and vein be felt. "Fuck, sweetheart." He murmurs with tightly shut eyes and breathing that's got no rhyme to it at all.

Your hands fall to his chest as your boobs bounce in his face. Teasing him further. The echo of skin slapping and soft moans fall around the two of you. With your slow pace, you start to thrive as the aching need for more of Rick sets in. Nails digging into Rick's hairy chest and lips barely grazing each other.

"God Fucking Damn it, darling, Ride me, baby, that's it." Rick's voice is smooth like butter, easing you further into your euphoric trance. Your hips shake as your bounce on his cock, unwilling to give either of you a reprise of the delicious feeling coating both of your bodies.

You don't let Rick's binds go until your face is pressed into Rick's chest's hot skin, and your breathing has slowed down. His wrists are bare a little from the constant tuggin' to be able to touch you. You press kisses into the sensitive skin, apologizing for wrapping the rope too tight around his wrist. "Don't you dare apologize darlin?. I loved every single second of that, now about how we go take a bath."

Completed on: 07/20/24

Posted on: 10/03/24

Kinktober 24-

[scarlethexelove]

Hello there would you mind writing dark Agatha x femreader. Something really dark maybe with manipulation and smut

Ty 🙇🏼‍♀️

You're Mine Now

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2604

Warnings: Smut, Dark!Agatha, Kidnapping, Shackles, Illusion to forced age regression, spanking, finger, oral sex, light bondage, drugging, tit sucking, squirting

Part 2: You're Not Going Anywhere

A/N: So this one got a little longer than I expected it to but I hope that you like it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

You walk into the parking garage crying with a box of your stuff in hand. You don’t understand what happened. Everything was fine. You were one of the best employees at your company and was loved by everyone. Why were you all of a sudden fired? Why could they not give you the reason? You are questioning everything that happened in the last week but couldn’t come up with a single thing that you did wrong. 

You pop the trunk of your car and place the box inside before slamming it shut. As you do you drop your keys and just your luck they manage to go under your car. So you bend down but you can’t reach them. You have to completely lay down and get them from under your car. “Fuck today.” You mumble as you get back up dusting yourself off with tears still in your eyes. In all of this you haven’t noticed the dark figure that comes up behind you. There is a sharp pain in your neck before everything around you goes black. 

As you start to stir your head is spinning and you feel almost like you got hit by a truck. You blink your eyes before opening them up. The room is dark except for a cute dinosaur lamp that is placed on the bedside table. The lamp looks childish but you don’t pay that any mind. You start to try and sit up but you feel a heavy weight on your ankle. You look down and that is when you also realize that you are completely naked. You look further and see a shackle on your ankle that is chained to the bed that you have woken you on. 

In your haze you haven’t noticed the dark haired older woman that has moved towards you from the dark in the room. “Look who is finally awake.” The sweet voice comes from the woman that makes you jump. You scramble till your back hits the wall bringing your knees to your chest trying to cover yourself from the woman. “Who the fuck are you and why the hell am I naked?” You question with a quivering voice. “Oh baby girl my name is Agatha but you can call me Mama.” She stalks closer to you. 

Trying to scramble back further as your back is completely pressed against the wall, the shackle digging into your ankle but you ignore the pain. “Fuck you bitch!” You yell trying to sound more confident. Agatha chuckles darkly. “Oh little one we don’t use big girl words here. If you continue, Mama is going to have to punish you.” Your mind is running wild as the woman sits on the edge of the bed. “I have been watching you little one and I know you’re just the perfect little girl for me.” She reaches out her hand to your face, but you slap it away. “Don’t you fucking touch me bitch. I’m not yours, I'm my own person.”

You can see Agatha's demeanor change slightly, she is more angry than before. She gets up and walks over to a dresser opening up a drawer. You can’t see what she grabs until she turns around with ropes in her hands. “I told you little girl that if you continue Mama is going to punish you.” She walks over to you grabbing your hands. You try to fight her but her grip is strong and she is able to pin your legs between her thighs. “Mama worked hard to get you here. She got you away from that terrible job. Mama is here to take care of you. No need for my baby girl to be working if Mama is here to help.” She says as she ties your hands together tightly. “Ow fuck! What the hell do you mean that you got me away from that terrible job. I loved my job. What the fuck did you do?” 

Without a warning Agatha slaps you hard across the face. You feel the sting as tears well up in your eyes. You look at her with shock moving your tied hands up to your cheek. “I told you no big girl words.” She pulls your legs from between her legs and starts to tie them together just above the shackle as you kick and try and fight her. But she is very strong and has no issues keeping you from kicking too much. The shackle is now pressing into your other ankle causing you some discomfort. “There.” She smiles looking down at you tied up and tears in your eyes. Her hand rubbing your cheek where she slapped. “So pretty when you cry.” 

You're too stunned to speak as you look at the woman who has just admitted that she got you fired and she has kidnapped you. Agatha sits on the edge of the bed and starts pulling you towards her. “No, please!” You plead with the woman but she doesn’t seem phased. All she does is pull you and lay you over her legs. Your head hanging down and your ass up. 

“Now Mama has to give you a punishment. She doesn’t want to but little girls have to learn to listen.” Agatha’s hand smacking down hard on your ass. You can’t help but cry out from the pain. Her hand smoothing over where she hit as it turns red. “I think 20 spanks is good. 10 on each side. What do you think, little one?” 

“Fuck you.” You spit in anger at the woman. Her hand slapping down on your cheek again. “You keep going, I'll make it 20 each side.” She threatens as you whimper and just nod. Not seeing a way out of this. The older woman above you is much stronger and has definitely planned this out. “Good girl. Now I want you to count each slap. You mess up, I will start over. Do you understand me?”

You nod your head in understanding. “I need words little one.” Agatha tells you. “Y-yes.” You mumble out. “Good girl.” Her hand slapping down on your right cheek. “O-one” You whimper. You can’t see her face but she is smiling before slapping again. “Two” She slaps down hard in rapid succession. “T-three” You cry out and tears start to stream down your face. Her hand smooths over your burning red ass. “You missed one sweet girl, start from one again.” You whine at her words but you comply. 

You are able to get through the 10 without another mistake. You're crying more now as you squirm in her lap. “Good girl.” She leans down and kisses your head. “Time for the other side.” She uses her other hand to still your squirming in her lap. This time you make it all the way to 8 before you fuck up. So she starts over, but you learn this time and don’t mess it up again. 

Agatha’s hand smooths over both of your cheeks. “You did so well for me.” She groans looking down at your bruised cheeks. Your body squirms as you whimper and whine in her hold. Trying to rub your thighs together as your body betrays your mind. “Did you like that little one?” Agatha asks you, her hand still on your ass.

“N-no” You shake your head trying to sound confident but failing. “Hmm, the wet spot on my pants tells me different little one. You don’t want another punishment for lying to Mama do you?” She asks you. Her hand moving down between your legs. “N-no, I’ll be good.” You whimper. “Good girl.” She smiles, her fingers tracing your slit. “My little girl getting turned on by Mama spanking her ass black and blue.” You nod your head as you buck your hips into her hand causing Agatha to smile. “Does my sweet baby want Mama’s fingers in her tight little cunt.” 

You nod your head quickly. “Yes! Please!” You whine trying your best to get her fingers inside of you. “Yes, what little one.” She asked sweetly. Your head is spinning from want and need. “Y-yes Mama! Please!” Agatha smiles when you finally call her Mama, shoving two of her fingers into your hole harshly and starts pumping them. The action causes you to moan loudly as you squirm more in her lap. 

Agatha’s pace is unforgiving as she pumps her fingers and you buck your hips the best you can to meet her thrust. She smiles above you loving how pliant and needy you have already become for her. Your pussy gripping her fingers tightly as she pumps and curls her fingers perfectly inside you hitting the right spots. She already knows your body better than you do. She moves her thumb down and starts rubbing small circles on your clit. 

Your whimpers and moans start to echo off the walls. Agatha adds another finger as she continues to pump her fingers into your cunt. “Mama!” You moan out at the slightly painful stretch. “Does my little one like Mama’s fingers filling your tight little cunt?” She asks you, slamming her fingers in as she curls them giving you immense pleasure. Your walls are squeezing her fingers as your legs start to tremble slightly. “Does my little one need to cum?” Agatha asks you.

“Yes Mama” You nod your head frantically. “Cum baby girl. Cover Mama’s fingers.” Agatha demands you. You don’t hesitate already learning that you don’t want to mess with the older woman above you. Your cum coats her fingers as your moans fill the room. She keeps pumping and curling her fingers. Her thumb is still rubbing your bundle of nerves. “Good girl.” She praises you the more she pumps her fingers. 

You whine when she doesn’t slow down but continues to speed up. “Mama wants to see you cum again little one. Be a good girl for me and take what Mama gives you.” Agatha says as she continues, your cum dripping down more onto her lap. You whimper but nod your head which causes her to smile at your pliant form. 

It doesn’t take Agatha long to bring you to your second orgasm of the night. But she still doesn’t slow down. She wants to make a mess of you, turn your brain to mush. Push you into your sub space so that she can take care of you. So she doesn't stop with just two. She makes sure that you cum four times. By the time you have cum a fourth time you're a babbling whimpering mess over her lap. Your juicing soaking her pants. Your thighs are coated in cum along with her hand. She finally slows her thrust until she stops pulling her fingers out slowly. The action still causes you to whimper. Agatha sticking her fingers in her mouth and moaning at your taste. 

“Such a good girl for me and you taste so much sweeter than Mama could have ever imagined.” Agatha gently rubs your back and sides helping you calm down. Once you have calmed down slightly she moves you to lay on the bed leaving your legs dangling over the side. You whine as your ass hits the bed and tries squirming away. Agatha warns you with a tisk as you struggle to stay still you ass burning with the touch of the fabric. But she doesn’t care as she gets to her knees on the floor. She removes the ropes from your legs and spreads your legs as she settles between them. 

“So pretty.” Agatha whispers looking at your glistening cunt. Your legs twitching and your hole clenching around nothing as she looks on. “Mamaaaa.” You whine. “Mama is just going to clean you up, little one. Don’t want you all sticky and uncomfortable.” Your head is too fuzzy to argue so you give her a weak okay. 

Agatha throws your legs over her shoulders as she dives in. Not caring as the shackle digs into her back. Your taste is already addicting to her. She moans into you causing you to moan at the vibrations. She wastes no time as she eats you out like you are her last meal. Your whimpers and moans bring her joy. Your body is squirming and trying to get away from her tongue as it dips into your quivering hole. She uses her arms to hold you down. 

Agatha wraps her lips around your overstimulated bud and sucks. Your hips are bucking into her face as the mix of pain and pleasure. You don’t know if you want more or for her to stop. She alternates between sucking and dipping her tongue into your hole. She can feel your cunt already squeezing her tongue after a few minutes. You're so overstimulated it will take her no time to taste your cum right from the source. 

With her continued ministrations on your cunt you unexpectedly cum. To your surprise and Agatha's, your juices squirt all over her face. You want to apologize but all that comes out of your mouth are jumbled words and whines. But Agatha knows what you want to say. “Fuck that was amazing baby girl. I didn’t know you could do that.” 

She licks you clean before getting up. Your juices are still covering her face but she doesn’t care. Excited to see what else you can do but that is for another time. She unties your wrists. “Thank you.” You mumble lightly. She helps roll you on your stomach. “Stay like this little one Mama will be right back.” Agatha tells you before walking into the en suite bathroom. 

You have no energy to move as your eyes close and your body trembles. Agatha soon returns with a washcloth and some ointment. She applies the ointment to your bruised ass causing you to whine and squirm. “I know it hurts little one but this will help.” She says as she finishes applying it. She then cleans up between your legs. Once she is done she throws the washcloth into the clothes hamper and sets the ointment on the bedside table. 

Agatha then crawls into the bed, her back facing the wall. She then helps gently move you fully on the bed and towards her. Your fuzzy brain doesn’t hesitate to cuddle up into Agatha. As you do that is when you realize that she is no longer wearing any clothes either. But you're too tired to care. She is warm. She pulls your head on her chest which you gladly accept and you nuzzle your face into her. 

Agatha does her best to pull a blanket up over you two as you cuddle in. She pulls you closer and cuddles you tightly. You nuzzle more into her chest and let out a whine. It takes her a moment to realize what you want. She smiles at how fast you are breaking for her. She knew you were the right choice for her to take. You are absolutely perfect for her and she is perfect for you which you will soon realize. 

“Go on, little one.” Agatha moves your head closer to her breast. With your eyes closed you wrap your lips around her nipples and start to suckle lightly. She brushes her fingers through your hair. Enjoying the closeness that having no clothes on gives her to you. Your body gets heavy as you drift off to sleep. “Good night my little one. Mama will be here when you wake up.” Agatha kisses your head and falls asleep with you. The last thought on her mind is how much she loves you.

[serene-sun]

𝕿𝖔𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊 18+

Paring: any male you’d like x gn AFAB reader (I wrote it thinking of Swiss)

Warnings: rough sex, biting, blood, fingering, low key breeding

A/n: I cc this from me thirsting to friends, so enjoy this whatever

His hands covered in your arousal as your panties hang around your ankles.

Laying in his lap as his palm rubs your clit as his two or three fingers dive into you over and over.

Think about your hips squirming against his hard dick as more and more arousal dribbles out of your clenching my cunt

The sound of wet insides as his fingers curl and hook and tug.

Inching closer and closer to orgasm

His other hand spreading your legs wide, fingernail imprints on your inner thigh ar you spasm on his fingers

Your core feels so good, you need him so bad

His breath is heavy, lips brushed against your neck as he licked up your skin

Mm the way the couch gets all wet, but he kicks off your panties so he can pull you closer and balance you on his lap. He gets frustrated and flips you over back against the couch as he climbs ontop of you, nude form hot and erect. In the process the half empty wine bottle crashes to the floor and its red blood covers the floor.

His cock is so big, he pushed it against your dripping hole

A whine escaped your lips as he pushed in

He whimpers, he didn't expect you to be so deep and hot. Like a wet cave, he plung deeper into you until his base rubs against your throbbing clit. His pubic hair rough on it

You cry, tears escaping your fluttering eyes as he starts thrusting in and out of your hole in a hurried rough pace. The couch hits the wall over and over again as the lamp shade on the table shakes.

Your seeing stars as your breath stays in your lungs. Nails digging into his strong hairy arms that will surely draw blood.

His lips are hot as they go to bite yours. He escaped as he repositions to get a better angle Deeper, harder, slower, his cock pushes against the end of your cunt, cum already spilling deep into your womb as he grabs your breasts. His eyes never leave yours, dark maroon eyes swirling with pleasure and passion and ownership as he starts to cry.

He's like an animal, eating up every shake and scream you give him

He growls, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt as he gives a few deep pleasurable thrusts

He groans, animal noises escaping his hitched breath as he tugs on your hair

He heaves as he pulls out, it tugs a little as it plops out. His long thick girth that meets at the top with a nice firm tip dripping with more cum as he bends down to harshly bite your clit.

Hes so nice and kind on the outside, but once you draw the curtain his animalistic needs and disgusting thoughts take over like a ghost of the past

He wants more, more of the few strains of blood now mixing with his cum on your cunt. He wants to destroy you

He could go forever, more rounds than you could imagine

He rubs his cock agaisnt your slick folds, you whine and claw at his chest as he slips back in. He looks at you, at those pitiful eyes that are oh so innocent compared to this sexual energy that he has

He pumps your pussy full of his cum, and makes you cry and drip with every breath you take. He's already on his 6th orgasm as he pushed you against the wall, a photo falling to the ground and smashing to a million pieces like your dignity did the moment he pulled his cock out during the movies sex scene.

You should've known about this the moment you said yes to coming to his home after the party

And like the moment he first came, he orgasms for the 7th time as he watches your body fall to the floor. Heavy breaths setting panic in your chest as sweat, cum, and an amount of blood paints your two bodies like a story written by love itself.

[fayesia]

Hi. Can you write a smut story with love at first sight between me (the female reader) and my favorite Disney villain Captain James Hook from Peter Pan please? I have a serious fangirl crush on him.

Captured — Captain James Hook x reader

a/n: I got kind of carried away sorry!! so i put a * to symbolise where the smut begins so please scroll down to that if you’d like to skip over any plot parts :)

warnings: nsfw 18+, p in v, creampie, fem!Oral receiving, dom!Hook, body worship, fingering, breast kink, praise kink, dirty talk and pet names, lmk if i missed anything

Heavy waves of water splashed across the wooden boards of the large ship. The pitter patter of the onslaught of rain making it even more difficult to hear anything, not to mention the numerous voices yelling out things that barely made any sense.

So to have the blindfold taken off your eyes felt like the ultimate relief you needed after being ripped from your bed in the middle of the night, all as Hooks act of retaliation against Peter. The relief, although you were shameful to admit, was mixed with a bit of anticipation.

You knew this Captain James Hook wasn’t exactly the best person, however you had heard all of these wild stories about him and yet the chance to ever catch a glimpse of him was simply not one you got.

So as you blinked profusely, chasing those black spots away from your vision, the sight you saw in front of you was certainly not expected…but definitely not unappreciated.

Stood at least a head taller than you was a man with dark features, he had black long curls that had most definitely been treated well by the many years spent out at sea. His blue eyes, matching that of the current stormy sky, scanned you up and down, almost trying to read you before you were swept up by the oceans tides. The facial hair he adorned seemed to add to his charm, almost too neat for a man out at sea but perfect for a person of his stature, for a captain. His outfit consisted of a clean almost translucent white shirt, with intricate designs stitched into it, tucked into a pair of dark brown breeches. However the main accent piece of it all had to be his long deep dark red coat, the shade a complete match of blood and the golden accents adorned across the rich velvet material seemed to make the whole outfit perfect. Not a single curl was out of place yet as the wind and rain whipped around your shivering body, you knew you, unlike him, looked a mess.

Being dragged from bed at nearly two in the morning left you barefoot in a white nightgown and your hair drenched down to the last strand. Hands bound together by tight knots of thick rope and the blindfold once covering your eyes was left dangling around your neck.

“well we’ll see how long it takes for him to pay to get such a pretty little thing back”

Hooks voice was not something you were expecting, the words were accentuated and clear like that of a highly positioned and well mannered person, however the strong rasp in it had you weak in the knees ready to do anything he asked.

So when he asked you to follow him below deck, well, you did just that.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the action of the other crew members the two of you ended up in a quaint little room slightly hidden below deck. Inside was a bed to the corner, a wooden box as a table and a slightly smaller box you assumed was meant to be a chair. Cutting the ropes loose with his hook hand he grabbed onto your wrist, harshly pulling you against his chest until you could feel the hard muscles tensed, pushing against the swell of your chest.

“you’re not to move from this room until further notice, food and water will be bought in and you may be escorted down the hall to do your business. If i find you have tried to escape i’ll slit that throat of yours with this hook myself”

Lifting up his hand, the large hook attached to his wrist glinted from the single lamp light, the sharp tip of it pressing against his throat gliding across, a show as to what would happen if you tried to run. The fear in your eyes seemed to show as his mouth upturned into a smirk and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Hot. Scary. But hot.

With that he walked out of the room leaving you to rest until someone came to rescue you.

But you weren’t going to wait for some knight in shining armour, you were stronger than that. The talking and laughter from above had died down by now and you knew this was your chance. Pulling out a hair clip from your pocket you knelt in front of the doors keyhole, inserting it and nudging it around until you heard a loud click. Silently celebrating you knew you had done it.

The celebration was short lived when the door swung open and lo and behold Hook was towering above you with a nasty sneer on his face.

“did you not hear what i said before. Couldn’t get the words through that pretty head huh? too busy staring to listen, is that it?”

his questions were left unanswered while you stared up in fear by his feet, your mouth was slightly ajar as you weren’t prepared but such an outburst.

*smut begins here*

He stared you down for a few seconds before hauling you up by your arms, both your wrists fit into his one large hand. You were pushed until the back of your legs met the edge of the bed, the two of you were once again chest to chest. The pressure of his large tensed thigh unknowingly rubbing against your core through the thin still wet nightgown had you moving uncomfortably. Hook was still berating you with threat after threat until he halted, the word he wanted to say was caught in his throat as he watched you writher. He went to move back, confused, but then he heard you whisper “wait please don’t stop” the pleading in your eyes was something he couldn’t resist, not even the mightiest of men could. So respecting your wishes he didn’t take that step back, rather, he watched intently as you moved yourself back and forth against him. His once slightly ajar mouth now moved into that same ego filled smirk.

“mm good girl just like that, keep going”

His words spurred you on as you were getting close, something that was clear to anyone if they took a look at the growing wet spot against Hooks pants. Suddenly he pushed you back onto the bed, with his knees on either side of you there was no escape, his head lowered, as his lips met yours. The rough facial hair he had tickled against your neck while he explored the skin shown above the gowns neckline, slowly travelling to your breast, his mouth and your nipples separated by the thin sheer gown you had on. Two of his hands came down to the middle of your thighs where the hem of your gown was bunched up, tugging the flimsy material off you, it met the floor along with his jacket.

You were left bare to him quickly trying to wrap your arms around yourself to cover up, but he was quick to notice, grabbing your arms apart he kissed you again, gentler, softer.

“you’re so beautiful, your face, your body, you, everything about you is beautiful and i love you it”

He kisses your lips

“your lips are beautiful”

Then your breasts

“these are so fucking beautiful”

Travelling further down he came to rest at your hips, kissing inwards until one last kiss was pressed against skin just above your clit

“this is especially beautiful, and you’re going to see exactly that”

his compliments left your cheeks feeling hotter than ever.

James described you in a way you couldn’t see yourself, he made you feel unlike anyone had ever made you feel before, and that made you want him more than ever.

So as you felt his tongue explore every crevice of your pussy, you knew this was the right decision…at least it was better than being decapitated right?

You were moaning and writhing around while you felt James tongue all over you, against your clit and sliding across every fold of your vagina, his hand squeezed your breast flicking the hardening nipples, while his hook gently grazed your side, the cold metal providing a sense of relief against your hot body.

“taste so good, fucking nectar to me, could eat you all day” His moans into you only spurred you on pushing you just that bit closer to the edge, until you couldn’t take it anymore, you were grabbing onto the sheets until the veins were prominent in your hand, loud moans escaping your mouth as you felt yourself come. His tongue lapped up every drop the squishy and wet muscle teased your wet and inviting hole, lightly grazing your entrance while your hips bucked at the overstimulating action.

He climbed from between your legs quickly kissing you again, the taste of you heavy on his tongue which wrapped against your own as you fought a losing battle with him. He bowed his head taking one nipple into his mouth while his hand pinched and pulled at the other, the pain relinquished by the gentle strokes of his tongue while you moaned pushing his head further against you. His hand reached your wet dripping pussy, softly brushing against your throbbing clit until he heard your mewls and inserted two fingers.

“i know it’s just your so fuckin’ tight baby need you ready for my cock, don’t want it to hurt you when i slide it in”

He pushed against your warm and wet walls his brain racking with thoughts of how good it would feel having you wrapped around his cock, the positions he would have you in and the things he would do to you. Until he couldn’t take it.

“need to be in this pussy right fucking now” you missed the feeling of his fingers filling you up leaning against your arms to watch him get undressed. The shirt was quick to come off as your eyes fell on his upper torso, slim but still muscular with battle scars littered across it, you couldn’t wait to explore every fucking inch of him, ideas reeling through your mind, your imagination cut short once he had removed any clothing from his bottom half. He was stood fully erected watching your mouth drop open. How the fuck did he fit that in his pants?!

“don’t look so scared honey, we’ll make it fit” he soft smile left you with no doubt about that as you watched him stroke it, the sides had prominent veins that ran up the sides while the tip was a pulsing deep shade of pink.

He then walked towards you leaning over the top of you, he spit into his palm stroking his dick, proceeding to rub himself in between the lips of your pussy. “need to make sure it fits in nice and easy, wanna make you feel real good baby”

He continued rutting up and down, whispered moans left your mouth as each thrust had the tip of his cock hitting against your clit, the smallest amount of pressure left you wanting more and more.

“please just fuck me, please James need it so bad”

“if you’re sure, don’t say i didn’t warn you about preparing you though”

Slowly he eased the tip into you, already you felt like you could take no more, your hand grabbing onto the flesh of his hip, halting him before he tried to continue. Both of you vocalised the feelings you felt as yours was a mix of a yelp and moan while he let out a deep groan. To finally get even just a brief taste of how your pussy would feel around him was enough to have him ready to cum.

He waited until you were ready to continue, further continuing to push himself into you, pulling out as half of him was in, just to again thrust in adding a few more centimetres of himself each time. Until he had finally fully inserted himself into you. You walls clenched and wrapped around him like a glove as you moaned from each thrust, the sensations felt like fireworks every time you closed your eyes. You’ve never felt so full and satisfied in your life and James could say the same, his hips soon were thrusting continuously into you agains and again. He felt you convulse a little before pulling out leaving you frustrated from the climax that was stolen from you. But he was quicker than ever to flip you over, pushing you down on the bed into a deep arch with your ass lifted into the air, swiftly burying himself deep into you once again.

“fuck such a good fuckin’ slut for me. bet you’ve been wanting this since we met, cause i’ve definitely been”

“oh my god yes please harder wanna feel you deeper in me”

And god did he do exactly that.

His thrust didn’t let up and you couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, resorting to just having your face squashed against the bedsheets.

His hand held onto a handful of your breast pulling you further against him, until he fully pressed your back against his front. James thrust were reaching even further deeper into you from this angle and you felt yourself about to come.

“oh yeah come for me, be a good fucking girl and come all over this dick, my dick”

He rubbed at your clit driving you over the edge until you couldn’t take anymore, convulsing in his arms you came on his cock feeling him release his load into you at the same time with a deep groan. Ropes of his cum shot into you one after the other until he slowly eased his cock out from your sensitive pussy, a trail of his cum following not long after as it dripped out of your hole onto the sheets below.

Rubbing the tip of his dick against your pussy spread the cum everywhere leaving everything in a bigger mess than before, but you were too fucked to even care. That phrase had more meanings than one for you and Hook, as you both heard the clashing of swords come from the deck of the ship.

[yuquinzel]

MIDNIGHT HAZE — rin itoshi.

— notes ⨾ ive been shying away from posting this for too long now. [ sensual/making out ] and heavy on the details hahahs

Rin takes note of the way you're shrinking in your seat beside him, how your arms are protectively tucked in your sides and the subtle but sharp inhales.

from his peripheral vision, he can see that you're gnawing on your bottom lip, gulping hard to swallow your sniffles because he knows you don't like to be seen crying. which is why he's not sure why he's in his living room with you beside him at 2 am watching some sappy sad movie you picked. it's been an hour already since you started your movie marathon and he could've suggested you watch a horror movie instead— but he didn't, and he thinks he regrets it now.

He sighs, pausing the movie and reaching for the box of tissues he's glad he set on the table just in case. he offers it to you, smiling a little to himself when you hesitantly take it, as if you're still not ready to accept you're crying.

“you're such a crybaby” he says. by now a few tears are falling down your cheeks, leaving a damp trail behind in their wake.

“shut up, I'm not. i don't cry often, i swear”, you whimper with the wobble of your lip, and rin laughs. it's the irony of this scenario that swells his heart. you're looking at him with narrow, glassy eyes and warm hues setting on your skin. your words are meant to be firm and legitimate, but you're voice is hushed and low.

“okay, crybaby” he teases, and you pout.

his room glows in a faded shade of honey with the paper lamp you bought him as a housewarming gift. there's nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, and your quivering one. a touch of the scent of lemongrass from the air freshener lingers in the air and rin realises he's been staring at you.

there's still a dampness sticking to your cheeks and rin wants —such a treacherous thing to do— to trace his finger along the trails. feel the smoothness and warmth of your skin. when you realise he's looking at you, embarassment blooms in shades of fuchsia, “stop staring at me like that.”

rin hums. he heard you, doesn't think much about it. and before he realises what he's doing, he's caressing the side of your face. it's a ghost of a touch at first, “staring like what?”

“like you're doing right now” you breath hitches in your throat at the tenderness of rin's caress. momentarily closing your eyes, you lean into his touch. his gaze devours you whole, it makes you want to shrink further into the couch, but at the same time— daring you to wait and see where it takes you.

when all you can hear is the loud thumps of your own heart, watching the steady rise and fall of rin's shoulders as he's gazing through the soul window of your eyes, you're painfully aware that the two of you are alone.

“can't help it,” he mumbles. “god, you're beautiful” he says.

the faint glow of moonlight strips lines of silver across the room, and rin's bathed in luminescence. you can't help but trace the sharp white cut of his collarbone and the flutter of his eyelashes, over the broad expanse of his chest and the slopes of shoulders down to the ridges of hard muscle roping the length of his forearm. you take in his light. he takes in yours.

there are too many details. too much to breathe in yet not enough at the same time. a drug-like midnight haze encompasses the room, the air in the room is electrified and frozen still. rin's fingers travel down from your cheekbones to the corner of your mouth, then brush lightly against your chin.

you can't think. can't say anything. it's like your voice is caught in your own throat. all you feel is the heaviness of the air and the brushes of rin's fingers across your skin. mind blurring with the lines of a countless ‘what ifs’ and moments you've felt the same heaviness in the air, times when the glances you steal from each other lasted longer than they should've.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, and rin's eyes follow the action. his gaze rests there and your falls to his.

there's a momentary pause, as if you're caught in a trance. as if there's hesitation and doubts filling the spaces left behind your words. rin's eyes are still set on your slightly parted lips.

and then it breaks.

you feel it in the form of a shiver running down your spine when the lightning in the room reaches a breaking point, you think rin feels it too. there's a shift in his shoulders when he leans forward at the very second time melts into infinity— a magnetic pull drawing you both in.

rin's other hand supports his weight when he practically crawls on all fours and rolls forward on the leg tucked beneath him.

his lips surround yours— desperate, heated, almost obscene. it's nowhere near the gentle caress from before. teeth nipping and tugging at your bottom lip, long and languid glides of tongue against tongue. he breathes in all of your gasps and mewls, chasing after your breaths to consume you whole like he's waited forever for this very moment. breaths tangle in heated knots of passion, you're holding onto rin's arms, aware that your hands are almost shaking. this is not your first kiss. you've kissed people before. but it's your first kiss with rin and he's made you forget there was anyone ever before him.

you pull away first, breathless and hot. it's addictive— the way rin's lips chase after yours, eyes fluttering open when he can't find them. but he's still close. so, so close. forehead resting on yours and hot breaths fanning against your mouth.

his eyes are brimming with awe and glimmer, but lips swollen and sinful. the contrast is striking— awestruck eyes and moon-bruised lips.

rin falls back into the couch, calming his staggered breaths and throbbing heart.

it takes a long minute before either of you speak again.

“do you regret it?” it's a whisper that's almost raw with desperation and fear. rin's eyes are glued to you again, waiting for an answer.

“i don't. i'd never regret it. do you?” though still breathless, your voice is bold.

“regret?—” he chuckles, as if you asked a dumb question, “—you have no idea, how long I've wanted this. wanted you.” it's a declaration— of all his unconfessed feelings, all the times he'd stopped himself just short of the breaking point. “i feel like i'm about to lose my mind.”

“me too”, is all you can say. it's all you can think.

and if rin senses that, then he smiles, “why don't we try that again?”

© yuquinzel2023 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

i hope this is what you wanted m'lady @rinnahhhh

[darklydeliciousdesires]

I saw your requests are open! I would LOVE to see Alfie with number 8, “I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” 🥵

I’m all about dark too if you feel like it. Thank you! 😊

Can do, one order of Alfie with a large side of dark!

Warnings - Dark!Alfie & smut below the cut. Minors DNI.

The wood emits an odour of damp, the drips from the leaky pipe above it moistening the surface, adding to the overall old, musky fragrance of the cellar. Long ago, it was used for storing wines of the finest vintage, but now the space serves as something else entirely.

The leaky pipe continually drips onto the beam above, your hands and wrists wet, yet not enough for you to struggle free from your rope bindings. How many years does it take wood to rot, you wonder at times. One snapped beam would equal your freedom.

Would you truly want to leave here, though? That would of course mean leaving him.

He might be the one who keeps you in this state of torment, but imagining a life without it is perhaps bleaker than the surroundings you're held prisoner within. Who and what would you be, if not Alfie's plaything?

The sound of heavy footfalls creaking the floorboards above signals his impending appearance, the creaky cellar door opening, the lamp he carries with him finally bringing a little illumination into the darkened space.

He descends the stairs carefully, sniffing, clearing his throat, the scent of him cutting through the musk and the dust, Alfie placing the lamp down on the table.

"'Ello, poppet. Want me to let ya down for a bit, do ya?"

You nod. "Yes, sir." You used to cuss him out, spit in his face, kick him, bite him, but now you know, it all goes a lot more smoothly if you show what he demands. Obedience.

"Good. Right, come on, then. Let's get this rope untied, yeah." Reaching to the hook connected to the upright support strut, he unwinds it, the tension slowly slipping from your wrists and arms as the tightness is loosened. He only lets you go when he has use for you. Falling asleep standing up has become a talent you have mastered, although your weary bones ache for a bed.

Walking to you, he watches as you shake a little life back into your arms, your bindings still tight, the rope that once tied you to the beam above shaking gently. "Still pretty, ain't ya? Bit pale, though. Then again, I suppose ya would be for not seein' no sunshine for a couple 'a months, innit?"

His chuckle, all foreboding grit and rumbling darkness, sets your skin on edge. It's thrill laced with trepidation, an exotic, potent mix, goose pimples rising as your blood begins to run hotter, Alfie reaching for your face. His thumb skims your cupid's bow, eyes touring you as he leans in close.

He smells of rum and deviance, his breath warm where it flutters against your cheek. “I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

You know exactly how to oblige him, sinking to your knees, waiting patiently as he unfastens his trousers. You can already see the outline of his colossal erection through the black fabric swathing it, your captor pulling himself free, pumping his bulky shaft in a gold ring-adorned grip a few times before steering it to your mouth. "Open wide, love. Yeah, that's a good girl."

He shows no mercy, pushing forth between your lips, his hand fisting in your hair and making you take every last, fat inch of him. You choke him down, sucking gently to begin with, your tongue working the underside of his shaft as he slips back and forth.

The wet heat encasing him has him grunting deeply, cock twitching against your tongue. "Yeah, darlin'. You suck cock like a good'un, don't ya?" He moves faster, fucking your mouth with greater purpose, the need to spill into your throat consuming him.

It never takes too long, your mouth just too delicious an outlet for him, the thrill of knowing he's using you as nothing more than a mere toy adding to the ecstasy that rockets through him. He spurts thick and plentiful onto the back of your tongue, his cum dripping down your throat, his eyes two shards glittering at you through the low light.

It's the sight of him above you like that which burns itself into your brain, keeps you warm and lit up when the illumination is gone, when he's tied you up again and left you all alone in the dark once more.

Sometimes, it's in the darkness where we find the light. You understand only too well that Alfie's darkness is absolutely no exception.