#still woefully behind

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Cleaned my stovetop for the first time in 5 weeks. And caught up completely on dishes. I’m meant to be finishing my ma thesis but at least this is productive procrastination even if I’m not tackling the important things on my to-do list that actually matter for my long term future and this is the low hanging fruit of productivity

[voltrohgodwhat]

help

Bonus shoutout to that lonely little Lance-centric fic doc I haven't touched in eternity. Lance actually started this mess, and the laser-focus of fixation would have gone to him... except, Keith jumped in the way and took the hit for him.

I always picture Lance as being particularly salty about this, solely because he "lost" to Keith.

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

This is blackbonnet’s “We’re a group of the two of us”

EDIT: WAIT I’M BEHIND IZZY SAID THIS??? I AM UNWELL

"I have... love for you, Edward" what a fantastically fucking unhinged way to confess to anybody. The clear reluctance. The pause, the averted eyes. "I have it" like it's some fatal disease, something he's carrying, something he wishes someone would take away. Perhaps even something he wishes could be....................amputated, one might say

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

You mean to tell me instead of paying stupid shipping rates and markups to the TS store I could have just purchased my 1989 TV CD and vinyl from Indigo locally???

[cygnusxxii]

.

[satanghulu]

pact marks pt 3

✦ CAST: satan, asmo, beel, belphie ✦ SUMMARY: brothers’ reaction to you hiding your pact marks ✦ WARNING: urm the twins’ part got slightly angsty, mentions of lesson 16! ✦ WC: 2.7K

[PART 1] | [PART 2] | [PART 3] | MASTERLIST

══════════════════

Satan

Satan hates that the mark is gone but tries to play it cool to get back into your good books.

.

The sound of the door slamming made Satan snap his head up, watching as you stomped your way in somehow avoiding all the books strewn on the floor, even in your anger-induced haze. 

“Well, seems like someone’s having a great day,” He sounded bemused, slotting a bookmark into the page of his current read. He could feel the flicker of wrath calling out to him as the rim of your eyes flashed green.

You planted your hands on your hip and hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me?” The furrow between your brows told him that you were angry but it didn’t take a genius to figure that part out. But at this juncture, he couldn’t tell if it was directed towards him or yourself.

“Tell you what, my dear?” A bewildered Satan sat up straight, inching his thighs open as you forcefully made a space for yourself. The intensity of your gaze only made him more confused as you huffed again in exasperation.

“That pact marks could be hidden!” You whisper-screamed as you peered at his expression, frowning when you didn’t see the hint of realisation you wanted. Instead, you let out a loud groan, bringing a hand up to pinch the tip of his ear as your form of punishment. 

“Ow--Hands off!” Satan smacks your hand, rubbing at his ears woefully. He watches as you lean past him to pick up his novel with a contemplative look as if you wanted to throw the book at the wall.

He pauses, waiting for your next move. With a disgruntled air, you slid the book further away on his bed as you took its place beside him. Satan continues to examine your expression thoughtfully, the gears turning in his head as he slowly shifts his head up. A strand of blond hair falls from where it was tucked behind his ears, and you resist the urge to move it out of the way.

‘Wait. Come again?’ His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he finally processed your words.

“Solomon taught you.” He said, his words sounding more like a statement rather than a question, to which you replied snappily with who else?. He turned to appraise your appearance to which you held his stare, unphased.

Damnit, he was hoping that you wouldn’t have found out about it just yet. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” You narrowed your eyes, bottom lip jutting out in frustration as you wagged a finger at him accusingly. 

He couldn’t bear to see your angry expression towards him any longer. Satan grabs your finger gently, bringing it to his lips as he lowers his voice to a whisper.

“Can’t a demon want to see his mark on you?” For added dramatics, he flutters his lashes while giving your finger another kiss. Immediately, your face flushed red as you tried to jerk your hand out of his grip.

Satan holds onto you tighter. His touch travels up your arm to grab you by the shoulder, pulling you into his space. “Dislike it?” He murmurs into your ear, noting that it has turned red. You timidly shake your head, resolutely not uttering a word. 

Although he finds it a shame that he couldn’t see your expression.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it…” You said with a small voice, face buried in Satan’s shoulder. You were unwilling to show him your face, slightly annoyed that he had won over your anger so easily.

“Well,” Satan pulls you back to give you a sullen stare. “It’s not like I made any pacts before and magic tends to affect everyone differently.”

(It was the half-truth, kinda. But pact marks are always able to be hidden, no matter the person. But he wasn’t going to tell you that.) 

You gave him a long look, searching his face for any tells of a lie.

“Fine. I’ll take it as you didn’t know this time.” You relaxed your posture, slinking into his hug. “But, next time--“ 

“There will be no next time, love.” 

(There absolutely will be.)

══════════════════

Asmo

Asmo would be the most understanding, second to Beel. This would largely be because he already has a pact with Solomon. Also, he understands that sometimes the marks could ruin the aesthetic of a particular outfit but still? He just thinks you look so pretty with it.

.

The feeling of cold fingers on your back trailing up your back gives you a fright, as you turn to smack the perpetrator. Thankfully, your reflexes were fast enough to stop the stack of paper from flying at his face.

“Babe!” Asmo whines, giving you a hurt stare. “What would you do if you hurt this perfect face?” He brings an elegant finger up to the side of his face, showing off his porcelain skin as the light hits at the right angle.

You flicked his nose.

“Do you need me now?” You questioned, gesturing at your pile of paperwork in front of you. Mammon had dumped all of the bills on you before fleeing in the direction of RAD, as Levi chases behind him right after.

You assume that he wouldn’t be back in the house for the night at least, to evade Levi’s scrutiny. Thus, you had started sorting the bills to at least, lessen his workload so that Lucifer wouldn’t whoop both of your asses. (Despite Mammon being your caretaker.)

A manicured hand taps on your thigh, demanding your attention.

“Pay attention to me.” The Avatar of Lust is stunning as always, a pout plastered on his face as he grouses cutely. You chuckle and shove the paperwork aside, Mammon be damned. He could do his own paperwork and you had a much cuter distraction right in front of you.

“Yes, honey?” You match his tone, locking your fingers with his as he continues to tap on your thigh incessantly like a peacock flaunting its feathers. “I wanna see my pact mark.” A glint in his eye shines, a bright smile playing on his lips.

You sigh.

“So that’s why you were touching my back.” He nods at your statement, a perfect eyebrow arched as if to ask you what’s wrong with it. 

Resigning yourself to your fate, you turn and lift your shirt slightly to give Asmo a better view. You try not to flinch as his cold fingers sweep past the area where the mark was supposed to be.

A hum comes from behind you. Asmo tugs your shirt down, giving you a tap on your back to indicate he is done with his little inspection. 

“Satisfied?” You asked as you arranged your shirt properly. 

“Maybe if you go au naturel, I’ll be able to have a better look.” This time, Asmo’s lips curled into a grin as his head tilted to the right suggestively. You let out a chuckle, patting his shoulder. “Next time, buddy.”

A thought crosses your mind as you stop in your motion.

“You’re not…unhappy?” Asmo cocks his head to give you a contemplative look, not saying anything. A flutter of motion catches your eye as he suddenly leans in to press a kiss on your cheek, leaving a trail of delicate sweetness in his wake.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ as he stood up, patting your head. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” A graceful hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you up, beckoning you to follow him.

“Come on, it’s self-care day today!” He cheered, lifting your arm up above your head and bumping your hip hard with his.

You grinned. Typical Asmo.

══════════════════

Beel

Beel would definitely be the most understanding. He gets your reasoning if you want to cover it up. Though, he is still a demon. He will have this nagging feeling that something is wrong but he’s not sure why.

.

“Beel?” You padded softly into the kitchen, yawning as you rubbed your eyes. The kitchen’s lights were turned low but the refrigerator’s door was wide open, the dim light still hurting your cornea.

Only the sound of crunching answers you as the demon was too transfixed with the leftovers from dinner. You had made human-world food today, feeling homesick and craving for a pick-me-up. As always, Beel had made his stance known about the food. But, he must have really liked it. (At least much more than you had presumed.) The fridge was completely devoid of your cooking, the usual snacks he ate for supper untouched.

You had also made much more than the usual portions because you intended to bring it to RAD to let everyone try it. Well, you should have known. Though, you really had made extras of extras… 

“Oh.” Beel waved his hand at you, finally noticing your presence. He hurriedly swallowed whatever was in his mouth and beamed at you happily. “You’re still up?” 

You nodded, finally remembering what you had initially come here to do. “Water.” Your voice was scratchy as Beel sent you a thumbs-up before continuing to consume his supper. 

You squeezed past him to grab your glass and the water pitcher. After quenching your thirst, your eyelids no longer felt heavy and instead, you now felt wide awake. Still holding your glass of water, you headed to where Beel was sitting and hopped on top of the counter beside him.

“Want some?” He offered his spoon to you, motioning for you to take a bite. You shake your head, telling him that you have already finished your night routine. Both of you sit in silence, the sound of Beel’s chewing fading into white noise.

The steady cacophony of Beel’s chewing slows your thoughts and just as you were about to doze off--

“Hey.”

You startle awake, sleepy eyes searching for the source of the voice. “Oh, were you about to sleep?” Beel looks apologetic, large hand flying up to move your head to lean on his shoulder. In a daze, you grabbed his hand instead as you tried to blink the sleep away.

“It’s fine. Is there something you need?” You yawned, letting go of Beel’s hand in favour of covering your mouth. He shakes his head solemnly. Yet his face was pinched, as if something was bothering him.

You wondered if he had gotten into an argument with Belphie. However, you recall they were just fine during dinner, and knowing Beel, he would be more upset if so. He also couldn’t have possibly gotten into any tiffs with the brothers seeing as you didn’t hear a single peep from them. 

“Are you worried about something?” You asked softly, hand placed over his to give him some reassurance.

He shakes his head.

You had an inkling the matter was plaguing him was involving you. But the only change so far was the pact marks. Oh, the pact marks.

“Is it the pact marks?”

Beel stiffens up as if he was caught doing something wrong. You continue to wait patiently, rubbing your thumb in a circle over his. 

“Kind of.” He admits, avoiding your gaze. “It’s just that… You cooking human-world food and then hiding the pact marks. It feels like you’re…” He looks away, unable to continue.

“I’m leaving?” You finished his sentence, lifting three fingers to grasp his chin carefully. 

He nods, sighing. “I know you won’t and it’s irrational.” He turns to look at you with a strong gaze, lower lip trembling slightly. “Can we stay here for a while?”

You lean into his touch, Beel instinctively wrapping his arms around you.

“Of course.”

══════════════════

Belphie

Opposite of his twin. He hates that the mark is gone yet he wouldn’t be able to say anything much seeing as the mark manifested around your neck, reminiscent of the time he gave you a tight hug.

.

Belphegor’s been avoiding you lately.

It’s impossible not to notice the sudden distance he puts between both of you. This doesn’t mean to say he goes out of his way to make you feel unwelcome; rather he goes out of his way to be polite to you.

At breakfast, he sits two seats away from you. He passes you the cutleries when you ask, hands never touching you. He scampers off to class with Satan as soon as he is done. It’s Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth; when has he ever been known to be punctual?

Yet for all his aloofness, he comes into your dreams every night. He watches you – he sits at the edge of your vision, chin on his palm as his tail swishes calmly behind him. But you wake up in your own bed with your heart thrumming with confusion and affection, all the same. Sometimes, it feels as if he observes you in reality too.

It was frustrating. 

You don’t want to force the youngest out of his comfort zone to talk about his feelings but it was starting to get ridiculous. He’s thousands of years older than you and he can’t even bear to talk about his own feelings?

You huffed.

You’ve made up your mind to talk to him but he’s as slippery as an eel when determined. When Belphegor wants to hide, no one should be able to find him. Well, except for one person.

“Where is he?” You dug out a burger from your backpack – you had stopped by Hell’s Kitchen after an unsuccessful search in RAD. Beel pauses around his mouthful of food, scrutinising the outstretched offering in your hand.

“Rooftop.” He glances hesitantly at your expression. “Please take care of him.” You nod, shoving the burger into the pile of food beside him. You pretend not to take notice of the underlying meaning in his words.

-

You climb the stairs to the twins’ room, footsteps echoing softly in the silence of the house. The rightmost window was wide open, the cold breeze making you shiver in your pajamas. You stick your head out of the window, noticing there is no path up. Belphegor must have flown up in his demon form. Was he that desperate to avoid you?

Quietly, you muttered a levitation spell; sending vibrations through the air as you swayed unsteadily.

Imagination. Imagination. Imagination.

Slowly, the spell stabilised and a sense of pride twinged in your heart. You gently landed on the roof, spotting the tell-tale sight of Belphegor’s cowprint from the back. The wind nipped at your nose as you walked over, a chill running through you.

Both of you sit in silence.

“The Pool of The Abyss is out tonight.” He lifts a finger to point at the sky, gaze trained upwards. Humoring him, you turn to look at the night sky – the stars glittering in the endless abyss, a stunning sight that takes your breath away each time.

“Are you going to continue pretending?”

His breath hitches as he stays quiet. The silence stretches uncomfortably long, your hands falling to your side as you bite your tongue to let him think. His tail lashes back and forth, catching your attention.

“I’m sorry.” He bites out.

You shift closer, finally seeing your chance of reconciliation. “What are you apologising for?” Your nightwear flutters in the wind and Belphegor gestures for you to lean into him. 

“Everything.” He sighs wearily. “The-” You rub soothing circles on his left thigh, as his tail curls around your middle to provide warmth. “The incident and just. Everything.”

“It’s--“

“Don’t say it’s okay.” He cuts you off, frowning as the tail tightens just a little. “It’s not. You know that.”

You nod.

“I got reminded of it when I saw the mark was gone.” He pauses again, moving to place his head on your shoulder, seemingly to avoid your stare. “I just wonder how much of a better life you would have if you never came to the Devildom.”

You bring your hand up to touch your neck – your skin doesn’t feel any different to the touch with or without the pact marks. Closing your eyes, the magic buzzes in the air as you undo the spell hiding your pact marks. Belphegor craned his neck to watch the movement, face twisted as though the mark sullied your skin.

Belphegor takes a deep breath as he reaches out to touch you.

══════════════════

a/n ▸ the path to forgiveness isnt always linear! Satan - on your temple Asmo - tramp stamp Beel - below your navel belphie - front of neck…………where he strangled u lol On a side note, the lnd men has been populating my fyp too much. I believe asmo smells like peaches (thank u bee for the idea), it suits his colour scheme so much. (ALSO, if you know how prada candy smells like, yeah i associate that with him) I also wholly contemplated making reader summon belphie when he was hiding from them just for shits and giggles. also this isn’t my fav but it’s been marinating in my drafts for weeks so imma js post it LOLZ

[moonstruckme]

hello! I spent a whole day reading your marauder fics and I am obsessed with them and your writing. I was wondering (if you’re still taking requests) if you could write one with poly!marauders with a slytherin!reader where she acts cold and tough with everyone else but turns soft for the boys and they tease her about it but only because they LOVE it.

hope that’s enough! ❤️

Thank you lovely!!

cw: takes place in the infirmary, our poor lovely Jamie is hurt </3

poly!marauders x slytherin!reader ♡ 931 words

“I’m fine.” You stalk down the hallway, batting away the hands of your friends like mosquitos. “I’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt. Sod off.” 

The door to the infirmary opens, a familiar head of black hair peeking out. He says your name. 

Something in you slackens reflexively. “I’ll meet up with you later,” you tell your pursuers, darting inside. 

You find yourself pressed against Sirius’ chest, his hand covering the back of your head protectively. You don’t try to free yourself from the embrace, but you do angle your head on his shoulder, trying to see the bed behind him. 

“Is James okay?” 

“He is,” comes James’ overly upbeat voice, and you finally get a view of him. He’s sitting upright in bed, his right arm in a sling, looking a bit bedraggled but not much worse for wear. You were terrified he’d be all bloody and broken. Remus sits next to him. His brow is all sewn together, worry flying off him in every direction, and you know he’d be right there with Sirius if his hand weren’t so thoroughly attached to James’ knee. You don’t blame him; you’d only been hit, whereas James had been hit and then fallen thirty feet. 

You’d been watching the Slytherin versus Gryffindor quidditch match from the stands when a wayward bludger had flown toward you, catching you in the shoulder and knocking you clean over. You’d been too busy getting your bearings to see what happened next, but reportedly a Slytherin beater (who you will be having some heated words with in the common room later) took advantage of James’ distraction to send another bludger his way. He came completely off his broom, and though Sirius had been quick with a spell to slow his descent, you can’t imagine the impact with the pitch was pleasant.

“Are you okay?” Remus turns your question back around on you. 

You nod your head into Sirius’ shoulder, giving him a fierce squeeze around the middle before wriggling out of his grasp. 

“You didn’t hit your head?” you ask James, stealing a chair from another bed and sitting beside him. You burrow your fingers into his curls to feel for yourself. 

“Nope,” he says, catching your wrist with his uninjured hand and kissing the inside. “I’m good, sweetheart. Just dislocated my shoulder s’all.” 

“S’all?” Your voice is incredulous. You feel your face scrunch woefully as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Jamie, I’m so sorry.” 

His eyebrows fly up. “I don’t see what you’d be apologizing for.” 

You grimace, your good shoulder coming up sheepishly. “I distracted you…” 

“You didn’t ask to take a crack from a bludger,” Remus says, quiet but stern. His eyes dip to your shoulder, where the cursed thing had struck. “Let’s see it.” 

You sigh and pull down the sleeve of your jumper. You hadn’t been expecting it to bruise yet, but the red mark is already starting to darken around the edges. James hisses through his teeth as Sirius rounds you, crouching beside your chair to get a better look. 

“Shit,” he says, frowning as he touches the mark gingerly with the tip of his thumb, “are you sure you haven’t knocked your shoulder out too?” 

“I don’t think so,” you say, somewhat quietly. Being at the center of your boyfriends’ combined concern is a disaster for your nerves; it makes you as timid as a first year. 

James pouts at you, taking the hand closest to him and pressing a wet smooch to your palm. 

“I heard you sniping at your friends in the hallway,” Sirius says. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t hurt, doll.”

You look at him through your lashes, sheepish. “It does,” you admit. 

He and James coo, and you roll your eyes, turning away from them both. 

Remus’ eyebrows pull up in the middle, his gaze gentle on yours. It softens you considerably. “Think you ought to have it looked at?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” James says brightly, “we could match.” 

Remus’ frown deepens at the reminder, his hand rubbing sympathetically at James’ knee. 

“Thanks, but I’m okay.” You give James a weary smile, but his eyes narrow behind his glasses. 

“You want something,” he says. 

You blink. “No, I don’t.” 

He studies you a second longer, then nods. “Yeah you do,” he decides. “Out with it.” 

You blow out a breath, rolling your eyes, but he waits. You can’t quite look at any of them as you say, “I just sort of want a hug.” 

“Aww,” Sirius croons, all but pushing himself into you as he engulfs you in his arms. “The ice queen melts at last, huh?” 

“Don’t tell anyone,” you mumble wryly, and James laughs, giving your fingers a loving squeeze. “Anyway, I’m not the one who wound up in the infirmary.” 

“Only because Jamie’s smart enough to go.” Remus gives you a meaningful look, but there’s enough softness in it to let you know he’s not really cross with you. Still, you muffle your apology into Sirius’ shoulder. 

He holds you tighter. Digs his fingertips greedily into the material of your jumper. 

“Don’t hurt her shoulder,” James says fretfully. 

“I’m not,�� Sirius replies, but he loosens his grip a bit. “I’m not, right?” You hum your agreement, and he’s pressing in on you again, biceps flexing. “You’re our lovebug,” he tells you, teasing undercut by an uncharacteristic firmness. “You know you don’t have to be tough around us, yeah?” 

You grasp the tops of his shoulders in response, an affection so huge it pains you rising in your throat. “Yeah,” you say. 

[simplyreveries]

Hiii!! Can I request headcanons for how the overblot crew holds you?? Btw i really loved reading your posts! You're such a good writer

holding you; overblot boys

TY LOVELY<3

riddle rosehearts

as mentioned before, riddle is usually the one held- he is a shameless little spoon haha. he prefers to be against your heart as he holds you tightly and lets out the longest sigh as if to let go of his stress and tenseness melt away just by being with you like this.

he doesn't necessarily ask to cuddle or anything, but you can tell when he's craving some of them from you. he just hadn't realized (and frankly still hasn't) how touch starved he is so once he's comfortable, he's hooked.

riddle can’t help but lean against you sometimes, usually when he’s having a hard time during the day as dorm leader and responsibilities, he tries ever so hard to keep up with. if you’re just sitting next to him talking to him or showing him something on your phone, you’ll notice him inching closer and closer to you until your arms are pressed together and leaning face his real close to yours. if you happen to point that out, he'll quickly move away all flustered.

leona kingscholar

he holds onto you all the time because you’ve become his own pillow when he’s wanting to take a nap. you’ll find yourself just deciding to spend the night at his dorm when too much time passes— not like you really can go anyway when he only holds you tighter whenever you shift.

leona is a perfect person for you if you’re naturally cold because he is a heater… he is always so warm when against you. I guess it’s good because his dorm can get chilly with the outside open to it, so you’ll only find yourself curling more against him anyway.

seriously though he like refuses to let you go unless you complain that you absolutely need to go or something. even then he's such a grump when you have to leave. especially when he's laying on your lap like the audacity?? agdjsjdk

if you’re shorter than him he’d do the thing where head yours your head or shoulders as an armrest because he’s such a jerk like that. he does it so nonchalantly too.

azul ashengrotto

undeniably clingy with you whether he wants to admit it or not. he is constantly drawn to you and your presence whenever he's around you. "i've missed you all day, pearl" he'll dramatically sigh and tell you woefully how tired and overworked he is as he puts his arms around your waist and lay his head against your shoulder burying his face into your neck.

azul prefers to be face to face when cuddling,, he likes to look at you. he loves it when you have easy access to cover his face with kisses and he can grab your hands and press his lips gently to them.

you’ll find him often putting his gloved hand around your waist and keep it on your side, he does it really without thinking. he’ll just be beside you and talking to you about something and find a way to keep a hand on you.

jamil viper

have you seen scarabia?? his room?? he's got a bunch of pillows and they're always so soft and so comfortable when he's holding you... though there are sometimes when you playfully hit him with them and he has no choice but to get you back as well. that probably was the first time you've seen him so lively.

he has a habit of holding you from behind when sleeping. like leona, he is naturally a warm person as well. he has your back to his chest and his head in your hair.. jamil is really shameless about it. he feels content in your presence and scent.

jamil falls asleep rather easily around you, its a bit funny if you're more so a night owl because he does try to stay awake around you as you talk and do whatever. as you sit up on the bed, he'll be lying beside you with his arms around you. but he can't help but feel his eyelids grow heavy and drifts to sleep.

vil schoenheit

vil is very gentle... idc what anyone says. whenever he's holding you close and cuddling, he loves to have his hand anywhere on your skin as he'd stroke your back, your arm, waist... wherever he feels like in the moment. it feels light and feathery, i just know his hands are incredibly soft too. he can't help but softly laugh whenever he sees you start to feel ticklish from it.

if you ask him to, he will hum songs for you, you get to hear his pretty voice. It’s definitely a special privilege you get by being his. you’ll get to hear your most favorite songs too; he’ll sigh and teasingly tell you you’re quite the demanding one when begging him to him your favorite songs and melodies.

he loves when he can smell the perfume/cologne just any fragrances on you. especially knowing its ones he's given and gifted to you. he enjoys the idea of you wearing something of his own like that.

idia shroud

he was so nervous to do anything even as simple and cute look that at first, even though he desperately wanted to. you’d have to initiate it first then he’d follow along and wrap his arms around you. Idia would shove his face and hide it somewhere on you, though you can feel his lips curve into a smile when it’s against your neck hehe.

idia usually always has some sort of show or movie on though, it makes it a lot less nerve wracking for him when you’ve got something like distracting. but also he totally loves just lazing around playing video games with you laying against him.

okay but once he is more comfortable be prepared for him because he definitely is pretty clingy and wants his hands on you a lot… he’ll be drained after some dorm leader meeting he was forced into participating in and he collapses onto the bed just wanting to be with you. you'll feel his cold hands snake around you and he'll snicker when you get so surprised.

malleus draconia

malleus is such a big sucker for affection from you. he doesn't even seem to care where he is or who's around him, he just sees you. he loves putting his arms around you from behind your back and hugging you. sometimes he'll slowly shift side to side in a sweet manner.

pleaseee he loves it when you absentmindedly play with his long hair. he’ll let you do whatever you want to it, he thinks it’s funny however you choose to do it. but adores it most when you're just combing your fingers through his hair. he'll close his eyes and have the most content smile on his face.

when malleus is holding you, most likely deeply asleep curled on him, his favorite thing to do is look at you... oh, so blissfully and trace your features on your face with his fingertips, lingering right on your lips. malleus has this energy around him where he'll end up feeling like the safest place you can be, ironic enough with the stigma other students hold around him. this man treats you like glass.

[jensettermandu]

song worthy - jang wonyoung

genre; smut

pairing; show-goer!wonyoung x rockstar!female reader

content; set in the mid 2000s, cigarette use, mentions of wiccans/witches (wony being referred to as a witch at times), still channeling the inner dirt-bag/rockstar core (claiming it <3), rockstar!reader x show-goer!wony. smut; switch wonyoung/reader, cunnilingus (both giving/receiving), fingering (both giving/receiving)

synopsis; wonyoung gets stoped by the frontwoman of the band that's been making a buzz lately and gets offered a deal she can't decline, especially not with the mutual desires that linger in both of their gazes.

wc; 5.4k

masterlist

a/n; this is from a scrapped story, but enjoy!

Y/n’s cold hand dug into the pocket of the black leather jacket before taking out a wrinkled and soft pack of cigarettes. Another sniffle followed, her nose cold as she took one out and put it between her lips, eyes woefully looking at three cigarettes left and no money to buy more.

“So much for being a performer.” She mumbled as the money her band earned was close to nothing. The impulsive decision of dropping school to pursue a band with her friends was biting her in the ass. It felt impossible to do anything right for the forlorn singer who had been negative about her life since the day she was born. 

She put the pack back, searched for the zippo, and groaned when she realised that she had thrown it into the van earlier after lighting her previous one. Her friends were already gone after leaving her behind since she couldn’t crash at theirs; the girl having no place to stay the night at.

The streets were half empty, people passing by and minding their business and cars speeding along the road. She held the stick between her glossy lips, looking around, hearing sirens somewhere in the distance, being well aware of how unsafe this area was and it did make her anxious—at the back of her head which she ignored. 

The wired headphones blasted Jennifer’s Body by Hole and small stones dragged along the wet concrete behind her. Y/n looked back to see a girl walk out from behind the alley she had come from. Unaware of the frontwoman’s presence since her gaze was on the ground beneath her platforms. 

Y/n quickly took the cig out of her mouth. “Hey, hey, wait up!” She called for the stranger, almost stumbling over her duffle bag as she caught onto the girl’s bare arm, stepping over the bag in the process and managing to stay on both feet.

“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” She harshly exclaimed, yanking her arm out of the band member’s grip. Her eyes were hard at the sudden and blenching intrusion that made her back up a step. The girl’s eyebrows raised into a frown as she looked over at the lead singer who was looking back at her. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, but I just need to borrow a lighter–if you have one on you that is.” She quickly spouted out an apology, noticing she scared her. Y/n’s eyes searched for why the girl seemed so familiar. 

It clicked for Y/n when she looked over at the inch-taller girl. She had seen her in the crowd the past two shows and she remembered because she had a face and style hard to forget. The girl who had just raised her voice at her came as more than a poser. She was dressed in black fishnets with ripped sheer tights under, a small top, exposing most of her skin and a mini leather skirt with a studded belt.

A silence followed after the apology as the taller girl sighed through her nose with fingers looking through the black Rachel bag. She took out a pink bic and Y/n almost in haste grabbed it as she finally had something to light the cigarette with. 

“Thank you,” she muffled out with the cancer stick between plump lips. Her hand came up to cover the side where a gentle yet cold breeze blew at them so the fire wouldn’t blow out. With that she ignited it and inhaled, filling her lungs with the smoke as the tip caught an ember before it turned to ash, burning along the white.

The girl watched the girl she knew as Y/n, the lead singer of the band that just performed.

“Were you at the show?” Y/n questioned her while handing back the lighter, sticking her right hand into the pocket of the leather jacket to keep herself from getting even colder. The taste of the smoke was strong on her tongue, the cheap cigarettes had to suffice as she could not afford any better brands. Not like she had money for a nicotine addiction–not having money for a place to live–but it was too late for consideration.

“Yeah…” She simply confirmed.

Y/n nodded at that and her eyes trailed along the slim figure in front of her and they only stopped on her thighs. She pointed down at her thigh with her head, blowing the smoke to the side while flicking at the cigarette between her fingers. A garter on the girl’s left thigh with a pentacle. 

“Are you Wiccan?” She questioned, knowing enough about the pentacle to know that Wiccans who often identified as witches used them although not all witches were Wiccan.

“You’re the first one to ask me if I’m Wiccan and not Satanist…But yes.” 

Y/n hummed and looked back up from the garter with the steel pentacle. “They usually use an inverted one.” She pointed out, knowing better than to assume the girl was Satanist as they usually used inverted ones. The two had significantly different meanings to them. 

The brunette tilted her head, dark hair falling down her shoulders and over her pale skin that was illuminated by the shitty yellow lights that went along the sidewalk the two girls stood on. 

“So…This is where you offer me a cigarette, rockstar.” The girl said, doing a once over at the lanky musician. Their eyes met, both having slept in smudged eyeliner although the proclaimed Wiccan could see the tiredness and bad nights of sleep on the other girl who chuckled and took out the cigarettes.

“What do I get for a cigarette?” She questioned her and the latter raised her eyebrows as she looked at Y/n who tilted the pack and showed the content inside, three sticks pathetically waiting to be smoked. 

“Only have three left so it’s a big offer.” The singer added. She usually wouldn’t offer or give anyone cigarettes if she only had two or three left. Especially if she had no money. 

“You get the honours of being a kind human being.” She gave the only thing she had to give as she toyed with the lighter in her hold, igniting it and letting go. Her eyes came up and looked at the girl in leather who hummed unsure with smoke coming out of her nose, catching the little shining gem on Y/n’s left nostril.

“What’s your name?” Y/n asked. 

“It’s Wonyoung.” 

She nodded at that, the lead singer still needed a place to stay the night and the weather was turning colder as it was close to being 2:30 am. She took another quick drag and blew out the smoke before licking her lower lip which tasted of vanilla and tobacco. 

“Okay…What would I get for a cigarette and two tickets to the show next Friday, Wony?” She offered Wonyoung. 

The tickets were somewhat expensive, around 20 bucks, 10 for entrance to the club and 10 for the band's show. Expensive or not, Y/n saw no reason for Wonyoung to deny because who said no to free tickets? She always carried a few on her as they at times worked like money. Aside from the duffle bag filled with clothes and another pair of shoes, they were her most prized possession at the moment. 

The deal was made as Wonyoung’s fingers nimbly reached for a cigarette from the pack as she spoke. “What do you need?” She asked before putting the stick between her plump lips, covering it from the wind and lighting it with the pink bic. Her gaze came back up to Y/n after as the smoke they blew out trailed away from them. 

“A place to stay for the night…I have the tickets in my bag.” Y/n pointed to the bag behind her feet while hoping that the newly met stranger would let her crash. In the end, she seemed harmless as she was hot and liked their music if she had shown up to three shows. It wouldn't be Y/n’s first time crashing at a stranger's place.

“My car is parked right there…I live along the boulevard.” Wonyoung said and pointed along the sidewalk where a black sedan stood. That was enough for Y/n to turn around and get the duffle bag.

Wonyoung eyed the lithe girl who turned her back to her. At the moment her confusion was how the whole idea seemed ludicrous because why on earth did the frontwoman need a place to stay? She didn’t ask though because she felt like it wasn’t her business and neither did she judge. In the end, she got two free tickets and the band’s lead singer all in the deal. The new sex symbol among showgoers. There was no need for complaints. 

“Let’s get going then.” Y/n sighed, huffing as she slung the heavy bag over her shoulder while ignoring the pain of the strap straining through the leather jacket and against her shoulder. 

Wonyoung led the way as they walked beside each other, the heels of their chunky boots dragging along the wet concrete, unconsciously kicking at small pebbles as they approached the car. 

She opened the BMW E36, the lights blinking as the locks released and Y/n put the stick between her lips while opening the back seat to put her bag inside while the witch got into the driver’s seat. The doors slammed closed after them and the frontwoman got into the passenger seat in the front as Wonyoung started the car.

“Are you like a fan or something?” Y/n curiously questioned once she was settled, glancing at Wonyoung while slightly rolling down the window to let out the smoke just like the driver's side window was down. It let in the cool breeze and prevented the smoke from lingering longer than needed. 

Wonyoung scoffed out a short laugh at the question, the singer rather fixated on her being a fan because she was going to let her stay the night. “Tickets to big bands are too expensive for me and there’s been a buzz about your band…You take what you can.” 

Y/n laughed at the reply, eyes crinkling as the grin stayed until it turned to a softer smile. She shook her head and reached into her pocket once more with her free hand, throwing the butt of the cigarette out the window. 

The speakers in the car played the album Paranoid by Black Sabbath, the CD case lying on the dashboard with a few other cases. Y/n took out the stolen MP3 from her pocket, not having money to buy a device that expensive she found a different way to get one. With that, she turned off the music and the blasting from the wired headphones stopped as she took them off. 

“I can’t deny that you guys have great songs and you, a great voice.” Wonyoung complimented as even if the band was just a try after hearing the buzz about them, they did catch her attention because it was just what she liked. A mix of grunge, alt, heavy metal and punk rock with lyrics sung raw and with emotion. 

She ashed the cigarette out the window while looking at the girl who reached into the back seat, blatantly, not minding that she was in a mini skirt and Wonyoung did not mind it either as her eyes beckoned at the exposed skin of her long legs and further, getting a glimpse of the black lace underwear.

Y/n let out a breath, Wonyoung’s eyes went back to the road when she sat back in the seat after shoving her headphones into her duffle bag. The car smelled of cigarettes and sweet vanilla, and there was a faint smell of strawberries as there was an old and aired-out car freshener hanging in the rearview mirror shaped like a strawberry with its colour drained—from how old it was. 

The dark-haired girl looked at the driver of the car as she rested her cheek against her fist, elbow resting by the window that let in cool air. 

“You have a quite soothing voice,” it was almost like a purr coming from Y/n, complimenting Wonyoung’s voice. It made a smile grace her lips as she glanced at the singer, flicking away her cigarette. 

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Wonyoung stated although there had already been a silent agreement between the two of them when they first looked at each other and Wonyoung agreed to let Y/n stay the night. 

There was no denying the mutual attraction that came from looks to music taste and demeanour. 

All Y/n did was shrug while Wonyoung sped through the almost empty street. “You did say you liked my voice and I thought you knew that we would share a bed tonight.” She leered out, pointing out the obvious as neither was going to let this opportunity slip. 

There was a hot girl dressed in grunge, driving Y/n to her place.

A hot lead singer was asking to crash at Wonyoung’s place.

Wonyoung sniffled, Y/n’s eyes catching how her pierced nose scrunched up before trailing further down at the nipples protruding through the thin black shirt. Her skin was catching goosebumps from the breeze let in through the windows. 

“It would be quite nice to hear a lead singer’s voice under different circumstances.” Wonyoung beckoned, welcoming to the idea the singer in question brought up. 

Y/n bit her lower lip and Wonyoung’s eyes landed on her once again, the two constantly glancing at each other. With each glance a heat grew in the cool air of the car, a tension thick enough for a knife not to be able to even cut through it. 

The sexual desires grew with lust hazing in the air, growing like a fog in the morning as Planet Caravan started to play. A fixated look as she trailed her eyes up the exposed stomach of the singer. The light pink butterfly navel jewellery with three dangling gems was just one of the things that caught Wonyoung’s attention.

“And to see the hearts.” She added, seeing the two heart shapes protruding through Y/n’s shirt. Y/n looked down at her chest, the two piercings with heart-shaped jewellery outline showing through the small tee. 

A sly grin came onto the frontwoman’s lips, tongue poking at her canine as her eyes attended to Wonyoung’s body. “Might make you a fan tonight.” It smugly left her lips and Wonyoung chuckled, turning the car and slowing down as she drove into the neighbourhood with fingers tapping against the wheel. 

The two were getting jittery and wanted to make it to the apartment as quickly as possible because their sexual desires and lust would suffocate them both soon enough. 

“What if the roles get reversed?” The witch questioned as she parked the car, stating the possibility of the vixen in her passenger seat becoming the fan tonight. 

The vixen in question let out a breath, questioning herself if she was in love with the woman who parked the car. It wasn’t love—the two of them were just horny and found each other hot in so many ways. 

“Then there’s gonna be trouble.” Y/n gave a heads-up, opening the door just like Wonyoung did as they both got out. Doors slammed closed as the lithe girl opened the backseat and quickly got her stuff. 

The door shut and the car got locked, the bag being slung over the almost sore shoulder once again. Y/n’s eyes looked around the empty neighbourhood as everyone seemed to be asleep at around 2:30 am. Her eyes landed on the two-story apartment building with an external staircase that they were heading towards. Everything was a luxury for the singer who did not have a place to call home yet after getting kicked out of every place. 

“Do you often let band members stay the night?” Y/n asked, looking up at Wonyoung who walked ahead of her on the stairs, catching a glimpse of her ass covered in sheer tights and fishnets. The shaking of the metal stairs resonated through the empty night, leaving an echo as their heavy boots collided with them. 

 “I’m no groupie…You were just convincing enough, hot too.” Wonyoung replied over her shoulder as she didn’t bring any band members home. This was the first one as no one in the other bands had stood out like the girl behind her who made the small stage her playground while delivering vocals with emotions and different techniques depending on the song. 

It felt almost weird for Wonyoung to hear the singer talk as her voice was contrasting to the one she sang with. She’d sing and vocal fry, but spoke in a tone that made it hard to believe she was the same person. It left her more than intrigued and needy for more. 

Y/n smiled at the reply and they reached the second floor and the first door right by the stairs. Wonyoung took out the keys to the door from the small purse she had and inserted the keys into the lethargic keyhole. The door jammed as she twisted the key and bumped it with her shoulder for it to budge open like she always had to open it. With that, she managed to push it open fully and stepped inside, grabbing hold of the wall to remove her boots.

“Where’s the bedroom?” The question left Y/n’s lips the second she stepped inside and closed the door after her. The cursed duffle bag fell to the wooden floor with a loud thud and Y/n somehow managed to pry her heavy boots off her feet, each one falling to the floor with a thud. 

The one-bedroom apartment was dark as the brunette hadn’t turned on any of the lights and instead grabbed the arm of the leather jacket. “Right this way, star.” Wonyoung’s tone was torrid as she pulled Y/n after her, walking through the open kitchen and living room. Guiding her the short distance from one door to another that she pushed open. 

The bedroom was merely lit up by the lamp posts and other passing lights outside that were gandering through the creaks in the blinds. 

Y/n shut the door with her foot and Wonyoung turned around, her eyes murky with lust as she looked at the girl. Her hands clutched onto the lapels of the leather jacket, pulling the frontwoman into her whose lips parted right away when they met Wonyoung’s. 

It was almost tacky how sloppy the kiss got as their slick tongues met—the two loved it. The singer's barbell was pulled at and brushed against Wonyoung’s teeth. Slender hands ran to the back of the witch and grabbed hold of her ass under the mini skirt, gripping the warm and soft flesh between fingers that threaded through the sheer tights and fishnets. 

Wonyoung pulled her closer, breathless moans falling from both girls as she stepped back, pulling Y/n along while tilting her head, her tongue toying with the hard barbell. 

The kiss tasted of vanilla, strawberries, and cigarettes, lip gloss mingling, making Y/n pull back and capture Wonyoung’s lower lip. She sucked on it, tongue dragging along her lips until Wonyoung’s legs hit the bed and Y/n’s hands came up to her small tee. She tugged it over her head, discarding it to the side before shoving Wonyoung to sit on the bed and hastily removing her leather jacket. 

The heat coursed their bodies, everything going south as it throbbed with need between their legs. Y/n’s hand threaded into dark waves as she tilted Wonyoung’s head up, capturing the plump strawberry-tasting lips, pushing the girl back until she had her lying down on the bed. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” That gruffly voice came out from the singer, close to the one she would sing with and Wonyoung’s chest heaved as Y/n’s wet lips ran down from her lips. Kissing down to her jaw almost heedlessly with how messy it was, panting hot air against her skin.

“I’ve left your last two shows all wet because of how hot you’re on stage,” Wonyoung admitted, lost in the moment when lips wetly trailed down to her chest. A gasp fell from her lips at the teeth grazing her hard nipples before getting engulfed in Y/n’s warm mouth. It was enough to make her hips buck at the throbbing between her legs, Y/n’s one hand roughly grabbed hold of her skirt, bodies almost flush against each other. 

“You sure you’re not a groupie?” Y/n humidly chuckled against Wonyoung’s chest before burying her face in the breasts, nipping and sucking at the ample flesh. Faint and needy moans fell from Wonyoung’s lips as she looked down at the band member with her hand in her hair, pushing Y/n further down. 

“Mhm…” Wonyoung breathlessly confirmed and Y/n dropped onto her knees between the girl’s legs on the hard and cold floor. “Never planned on actually fucking you.” Yet here she was, about to fuck with the vixen she only thought of fucking. 

She bit her lower lip, hips lifting off the edge of the bed where she was lying when Y/n hooked her fingers under the skirt and every other piece of clothing. The two were too eager to wait around, wanting nothing more than a taste of the Hellmouth they both were entering through for the night. 

Y/n yanked at the clothes, hearing something rip in the process as she pulled them off of Wonyoung’s legs before she dropped the tights and skirt onto the floor. The brunette was left naked on the bed. Her pussy dripping with need just from the rough and messy handling by the lead singer who kissed her warm thighs. 

Y/n grabbed hold of Wonyoung’s right leg who hooked it over her shoulder before slumping back down onto the bed. Her eyes were on the dark ceiling as her chest heaved before she closed her eyes and drowned in the kisses that were being scattered along her inner thighs. 

Y/n pushed Wonyoung’s other leg further apart, her eyes landing on her dripping cunt and her fingers eagerly came up to her puffy pink folds. The girl’s lips parted with a gasp at the cold fingers that ran through her lips, gathering the slickness and spreading it up to her clit. The small nudge on the bundle of nerves was enough to make her let out a vague whine with thighs tensing up. 

She coated her fingers in Wonyoung’s slickness, spreading her lips with them as she moved forward and kissed the fleshy mound, feeling how Wonyoung stifled her hips from bucking. The brunette's warmth was becoming a sopping mess, the slickness running down to the sheets as Y/n pulled away with her mouth and wetted her lips. Her eyes fell on the clit she revealed by spreading her open with two fingers. 

“Oh–I’m gonna make you fucking dizzy,” she muttered under her breath, lips attaching around the swollen and slick clit—followed by a sharp suckle and flicking of a skilled tongue.

It was enough for Wonyoung to moan, the action being so precipitous that her chest tightened at the gasp she let out, hand flying into the dark hair and fingers tangling in it as her back arched before she slumped back with her other hand clutching onto the sheets. 

Y/n savoured the taste on her tongue, massaging the clit with her tongue, Wonyoung continuously let out small whimpers and gasps as her hips rolled into the girl’s face unable to lay still at the pleasure running through every nerve in her body. Her blood running warmer and making her body heat up even more. 

Y/n’s fingers dug into the flesh of her thigh that rested over her shoulder and pulled her closer to the throbbing cunt. She moved her other hand away from the thigh she was holding onto to keep Wonyoung from closing her legs and moved it down. 

Among the sucking and flicking at her clit, Wonyoung’s stomach tightened in anticipation when she felt two fingers caressing her clenching hole. Y/n brushed her middle finger over it, the wetness letting her easily slip her finger into the warm and tight wetness. Her walls throbbed around her finger as she decided to push in a second one, both fingers getting sucked right in by the girl’s tightness.

“Y/n—” Wonyoung moaned, hand tugging onto her hair, making the latter moan against her heat, working her tongue faster on her clit. 

“Fuck.” She breathed, Y/n’s fingers pressing and caressing her g-spot in a way that was making her thighs spasm and the orgasm quickly build up. Her hips pushed more into Y/n’s face, her pussy squelching from how sopping she was, the warmth around the fingers inside her squeezing as her whole body slowly tensed up. The occasional brush of the barbell against her sensitive clit was making her light-headed and whiny.

“Oh fuck—” It hit Wonyoung so quick, her words fading as she let out a harsh gasp, eyebrows furrowing and mouth falling slack as she arched her back, the back of her head pressing into the mattress. Breathless whimpers and whines fell from her lips as her body convulsed at the orgasm that hit her, being enough to make her ascend for a second before falling back down to earth. 

Y/n slowed down, pulling out her fingers as she dipped her head to lap everything leaking out of her grasping hole. 

Wonyoung heaved for breath as her hot body relaxed with her heart pounding, enjoying the last of the slick muscle cleaning up the mess she was made into. Y/n hummed and pulled away, taking her fingers covered in the latter's juices into her mouth and cleaning them up too. 

Her leg came down from the shoulder and Y/n pulled back, grabbing the hem of her tee and pulling it over her head. The small piece of material got thrown to the side before she stood and Wonyoung sat up. 

The brunette’s grip was harsh as she grabbed hold of the meagre wrist and pulled the girl onto the bed. Y/n’s back hit the soft mattress as she pushed herself up with her head on one of the pillows. Her eyes barely being able to focus because of how uncomfortable the heat between her legs was as Wonyoung crawled over to her and settled herself between her legs. 

Her limber fingers ran along Y/n’s thighs as the witch bit her lower lip, looking at the latter’s chest with two pierced nipples, adorned by heart-shaped jewellery with light pink gems just like the ones in the navel one. Contrasting from the dark grunge clothes she’d dress in. 

“I’m gonna have you running back for more…” Wonyoung mumbled, her fingers hooking under the skirt and pulling it down Y/n’s slim and bruised legs, discarding the piece of underwear in the process too. 

“What do you need me running back for, Wony?” Y/n questioned as the girl on top leaned down, resting her arm beside Y/n’s head. Bodies pressed into each other, the gems of the piercing rough against Wonyoung’s nipples and she chuckled. 

Y/n caught the taller one's lower lip and sucked on it with her hands wrapping around her shoulders. “Free tickets—” She breathed out, kissing down the defined jawline before dipping her head and kissing under it. Her fingers sneakily ran along Y/n’s inner thighs, the wetness smeared and thighs tensing around her body. “And good sex.” She finished while humming when Y/n tugged at her ear with her teeth.

“Better make me feel as good as music does then.” A shaky breath followed Y/n’s words, the puff of air hitting Wonyoung’s ear and making her shiver—her fingers running through the wet folds. Wonyoung’s mouth trailed kisses all over the lead singer’s neck, leaving it wet while her fingers worked to gather the wetness to the bundle of nerves. 

Y/n’s hand grabbed hold of the dark hair, pulling the girl back up as their lips met. It was as messy as before, slick tongues pressing as they both tilted their heads to get more of each other. The whimper from Y/n was muffled by the mouth sucking on her tongue when Wonyoung circled her clit with her fingers. Softly she continued to circle it; teasing as the frontwoman’s hips continued to buck in need. 

She got what she needed and wanted as Wonyoung dipped her hand, swiftly pushing two of her fingers into the tight hole. She pulled away from Y/n, licking up the string of saliva between their lips as she watched the lead singer let out a whimpering moan that was light at the two fingers that started to move in her. 

Wonyoung worked her fingers, flicking her wrist as her palm met the slick and swollen clit, pressing and rubbing. The two long fingers engulfed in the snug pussy rubbed at the soft and spongy g-spot.

Y/n’s grip tightened in Wonyoung’s hair, hips rolling into her hand and the girl between her legs pushed herself up. Her eyes fell between their bodies, the sounds were lewd from the loud and very vocal vocalist and the slickness of her fingers dragging along the warm throbbing walls. 

“I’m not sure where you sound better, Y/n.” Wonyoung let out a satisfied hum and bit her lower lip. 

“Wony—” Y/n stopped and her chest heaved, the said girl stopping her movement for a split second as the heat on top of the singer disappeared together with the two fingers deep in her. 

Wonyoung pushed herself down and got down on her stomach. It was as if her mouth was watering, seemingly deprived of sex and she inserted her fingers back in. “Fuck that’s good.” Y/n hummed, Wonyoung licking up her slit before circling the clit, both of the girls rolling back their eyes—one in pleasure, the other at the addicting taste.

Her head tilted, flicking her tongue as she wrapped her lips around Y/n’s clit, fingers still driving inside the tight hole. Y/n’s back arched, hands tangling in Wonyoung’s hair as her hips moved into the warm mouth, the tongue slick and scalding against her cunt. 

“Shit—I’m gonna write a song about your mouth–oh fuck.” 

Wonyoung smiled at the words, doing her best to pleasure the lead singer with her mouth and fingers after getting an orgasm that made her feel like she ascended for a second. The slim thighs spasmed around her head and she reached her other hand up, cupping under the supple breast that fit right into her palm. Her fingers, toyed with the piercing and nipple as she worked her tongue harder against the clit between her lips. 

She could feel the walls tighten around her fingers, making her press down on the soft wall and continue the movement of her tongue. Fingers pinching and tugging at the hard nipple as Y/n let out whiny and light moans. The mess grew bigger on the sheets with each second, spit and slick covered her chin as her mouth worked sloppily on the girl’s cunt, making it so much more lewd.

Her thighs quivered at the warm tongue dragging and flicking over her clit. It made her head buzz at how deep she could feel Wonyoung’s fingers inside her heat unable to stop how she clenched around them with every movement. The slurping of the girl’s mouth was barely making it to Y/n as her ears grew muffled, not being able to think about anything but how good it felt.

Heat shot through her whole body as her legs tensed up around Wonyoung’s head, the orgasm running through every part of her body as Wonyoung only stopped once she was heaving under her just like she had done. She pulled her fingers out of the pulsating walls and licked everything up before pulling away, clearing her fingers with her tongue too while sitting back on her heels. 

“Song worthy?” She questioned with a sly smirk and Y/n hummed, pushing herself up and grabbing hold of Wonyoung’s wrist. “Totally, but this whole night is gonna be song-worthy.” She let the girl know, making her straddle her thigh, the wet heat pressing against the skin of it. Their lips met once again as she gripped Wonyoung’s hips, guiding her to roll them. 

masterlist

[pseudowho]

Thinking about Takuma Ino, who becomes a father so young when you fall unexpectedly pregnant. Thinking about the fear in your eyes, the shaking hands going to hold each other's, the positive test clasped between them. The way Takuma reassures you; "it's okay, it's okay, I always wanted to be a dad...sure, not this soon-- but we'll be fine. Better than fine, we'll be great."

The way Takuma goes for a walk that night, after you've cried yourself to sleep, crouching down in an alleyway with his beanie'd head in his hands, wondering how he could possibly ever be a good father. Wanting to marry you, to do things 'right', but afraid you'd think he only wanted to marry you because of the pregnancy.

The way Takuma arrives on his mother's doorstep (the mother who raised him alone, young, single) in the dead of night, pale-faced. The way his mother holds him as he cries and apologises at the dining room table, his face in her robed chest. The way she cups his face, and stares into his eyes; "we can do this, together, the right way. You're a good boy. Now be a good man."

The way Takuma learns to be a father, from his mother, who was his whole world. The way Takuma works himself to the bone, squirrelling money away, booking in with estate agents to go and view your first home together in a way that makes your hormonal heart clench.

The way Takuma's head hits the pillow, weary after working all night, then comes straight up again as he hears you vomiting in the bathroom, kneeling behind you to stroke your hair back, holding you gently round the waist on the tiled floor; "attagirl...it'll be better soon, right? Toughest girl I know. Doin' such a great job."

The way Takuma takes up embroidery, buying cheap plain clothes for the baby, because he can't afford much, but adding small artistic touches of beauty; a frog with a toadstool hat, a little trailing succulent vine, a shooting star.

The way Takuma is bright and excited; there for every scan, every class, every milestone. The way Takuma puts on a brave face. The way Takuma hides in the staffroom at work, his head in his hands, creaking under the weight of responsibility. The way he feels a strong hand clasp his shoulder, a beige suit, a blue shirt, a leopard print tie at the corner of his eye; "I know you're going to say no...but I'd like to buy a gift. For both of you. For the baby."

The way Takuma feels so ashamed for accepting help; the way a crib, a beautiful buggy, a snug and safe car seat, all gradually arrive at your new home. The way he tries to insist on paying Nanami Kento back. Nanami naturally refuses, pretends to be inordinately interested in his newspaper.

The way Takuma can't help but buy the baby a few beanies. The way you retaliate by buying an outfit that looks just like Ino's. He is thrilled.

The way Takuma's embroidery has advanced so well, he makes four little Auspicious Beasts to hang from a mobile above the crib.

The way Takuma paints beautiful, geometric, zany black and white shapes on the wall in the baby's bedroom; "They only see black, white and red at first babe. Neat, right?"

The way Takuma is pale throughout your labour, his eyes feverish, your pain so much harder than any battle he's ever been to. The way his tears hit him in a huge whooshing breath, a head-holding groan of relief when his baby son is placed on your chest, wet and crying, a little angry clenched face. The way Takuma rests his cheek on his arm at the top of your bed, gazing down and sniffling as his son holds his finger.

The way Takuma takes you both home, proud, woefully in love, still wondering how he's ever going to grow up and be a man, without realising he's already so much more of a man than so many others in this world.

Thinking about young dad Takuma Ino.

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX

Series Masterlist

The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, this will be one of my darker chapters. I’m really sick right now, I have a bad fever, and when I’m sick I tend to write darker things. I’m not sure why, just keep that in mind while you read. Summary: You wake up alone surrounded by people with strange smiles and empty gazes. You’ve been left behind and you don’t know if you’ll be able to make it out of the compound alive.

You shift on the thin fabric of the cot and rub at your eyes. They’re crusted over with evidence that you’ve been sleeping for a lot longer than you meant to. You shoot up in the bed, panic flaring in you, and look around the room. He isn’t here, neither is his bag. The chair he’d been sitting in is still at the side of your bed, but no other evidence of him having been here. 

You throw your legs over the side of the cot and rip the IV out of your arm. You press your thumb down over the bubble of blood and walk towards the doorway of the room. The lights are out in the compound. You can tell from the window in the hall that it's night now, dim candles are lit along the hallway but there’s no other light. 

“Cooper?” You whisper, afraid to wake whoever lives on this floor. You look down each end of the hallway but you don’t see his silhouette or hear his spurs coming towards you. You can feel yourself starting to freak out the longer you stand alone in the dark hallway. 

With only a thin gown on and no weapons to protect yourself, you duck back in the room and lock the door. You’re sure there’s a reasonable explanation for where he is. He promised he would be here when you woke up. Maybe they’d just given him a different room. 

Though, you’re still frightened, you let yourself fall back onto the cot. You’re still exhausted, despite how much sleep you’ve already gotten. This is the first time in a while that you’re clean, not sleeping under the stars, and you don’t have to worry about radroaches gnawing on you. You don’t have enough adrenaline to keep you upright and find yourself slipping back into a dreamless sleep. 

The doorknob rattles and you jump out of bed. Without much thought you rip the door open, assuming Cooper would be on the other side. Instead a woman with bright red hair and an eerie smile looms over you. She’s startling tall, taller than anyone you’d encountered so far in the Wastelands. 

You stumble back as she advances, two armed men flocking her. “Where’s Cooper?” You demand, eyes darting around to try and find something you can use against her. You’re woefully unarmed in the room. Besides throwing a chair at her you can’t find anything to defend yourself with. 

“Who?” She asks, moving to take a seat in the chair he’d been occupying. You keep yourself backed in the corner of the room. Your eyes dart between her and her men but they seem completely at ease, the pistols on their hips going ignored. 

You glare at her, “You know who. The man I came here with.”

“Oh,” she laughed, the sound made your hair stand on end. There was nothing outwardly wrong with this woman, nothing you could point out anyway. Maybe it was the unusual length of her smile, or the lack of anything real behind her eyes, but you felt deeply uncomfortable around her. “The ghoul,” the word rolled off her tongue with a clear distaste. She sighed and shook her head, standing back up. 

She turned towards the door and looked back at you. “Join me.” It clearly wasn’t a question, not with the way her guards grabbed you by the arms and shoved you forward. You stumbled, bare feet tripping on the uneven tiled floors. 

She made her way down the hall, not once looking back to make sure you followed. It was clearly assumed that you would just obey. Despite how much you didn’t want to, you figured you would have a better chance of living through the next hour if you didn’t test the men with guns. 

You kept one arm around your abdomen, the raw wound aching. It wasn’t burning or itching like yesterday, but your skin was so sensitive it felt as though your stomach might fall through the stitches. “Lights,” she started, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin at the abrupt noise. Your eyes kept darting around the hallway, like someone was going to jump you any second. 

“Running water,” she continued, “agriculture. We have a steady supply of Radaway, meds, food. We are very fortunate here at the compound.”

“I’m sure,” you muttered. You passed by a room and she came to a stop. You glanced through the window of the room, little kids surrounded by pregnant women stared up at a man teaching them something on a chalkboard. You moved a little closer and frowned when you saw the diagram of a man and woman’s anatomy on the board. 

These kids were barely walking and they were already learning about the birds and bees?

You glanced up at the giant woman and shuddered, she had a predatory look on her face while she looked at the babies. What backwards hellhole did Cooper drag you into?

“We’re much luckier than other surface dwellers, our children no longer have to worry about fighting to survive.” A woman rolled past you in a rusted wheelchair, her belly practically bursting through her white gown, three men flocked her, their eyes straying towards you. You glanced from her and back to the window of the room. 

Was every woman here pregnant?

Feeling like a rat trapped in a cage you looked up at the red haired woman with trepidation. “Where’s Cooper?”

She smiled, the corners of her lips stretching too far across her cheeks to look real. “You no longer need to concern yourself with him. Your keeper has given you to the compound.” She kept talking but you couldn’t hear anything past the high pitched ringing in your ears. 

The room seemed to spin and you found yourself leaning on the wall for support. 

Cooper left you. 

A heavy hand landed on your shoulder and you flinched. You fought the burning feeling building behind your eyes and glared up at the woman. “We’ll finish the tour later. You seem to still be feeling unwell.” She looked to the men behind her and nodded, “Take her back.”

You didn’t get a chance to argue before they’d looped their arms through yours and were dragging you back down the hallway. They didn’t throw you in the room like you’d expected. If anything they seemed to be treating you gently. 

They laid you in the cot, propping you against the pillows and leaving without another word. You sat there stunned for a long time. You stared up at the cracked ceiling, surprised you weren’t freaking out more. Maybe it was shock, or whatever drugs they’d given you were keeping you numb. 

The most likely reason, though, was that deep down you’d never fully let yourself trust Cooper. That was what he had been drilling in your head this whole damn time. No one was to be trusted, not even him. 

You couldn’t be mad at him because it was your own damn fault for getting stabbed. You should have just let it get him, would have saved you a whole heap of problems. You throw the blankets off and get up. 

You’re not just gonna sit here and wallow the whole time. You got yourself stuck here, you’d get yourself out. You approach the door, fully expecting them to have locked you inside, but it pulls open without a problem. They must really not think you’re a threat. Not like you could blame them, you’d been half dead when you were dragged here. 

You creep down the hallway, going the opposite way the woman had been leading you this time. You round the corner, slamming into a little girl and and a man. You jump back, heart in your throat, but they don’t do anything except give you a smile and continue on. 

You suppose there’s nothing to suspect about you. You’re dressed like everyone here, in a gauzy white nightgown that goes to your ankles. You don’t have any weapons on you. If you act natural, you’re sure you can just blend in. 

You pass by another windowed room and risk a peek. You immediately wish you hadn’t. The woman on the wheelchair from earlier is squatting on the floor, holding onto the arms of a man. Her face is red and her hair is plastered to her head. She lets out a loud groan and another man removes his arms from under her gown, something small and wrinkly in his hands. 

He carries the baby to a table, weighing it, cleaning its face off and then hands it to her. You turn away, debating whether or not you should keep watching or just move on. This is incredibly intimate, a mother holding her newborn for the first time. But something about this whole place is off, there’s a deep feeling of instinctual fear in your gut that is leaving you on edge. 

You can make out muffled conversation from the room and peer back in. She smiles at the man holding her and he nods. She leans down and presses a long kiss to her baby’s forehead. The man who’d been observing this whole ordeal with a blank face steps up. He presses a pillow to the side of her head and then a gun. You stumble away from the window just as he pulls the trigger. 

The sound is muffled by the pillow, but the baby still cries as its mother goes limp. One of the men catches her body before she can fall, passing the baby off. One of them leaves with the kid, the other two collect her body and carry her out behind him. You make a run for it before they can spot you, the image of her blood spraying across the floor permanently burned into your brain. 

You don’t even bother trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for what you just saw. There isn’t one, there’s nothing that could explain what you just witnessed away. And Cooper had given you to these people. 

You could feel the rage building in you now. 

He stared down at the fire, the only sounds were the distant noises of bugs and the crackling of the burning logs. He felt odd, unsure of how to put it. It was quiet, despite the noises of the forest, everything seemed still to him. 

He glanced across the fire, expecting to see her there, surprised to find himself a little upset when she wasn’t. It’s not like he could be blamed for missing the company. Being on his own for over two hundred years was hard enough. Being on his own after having her around seemed worse somehow. 

Loneliness was easier when you forgot what you were missing. 

He shifted around but no matter how he moved he couldn’t get comfortable. The discomfort wasn’t something physical, it was a restless feeling brewing under his skin. Poking and prodding him until it couldn’t be ignored. 

Leaving her had felt like a smart choice. It seemed like the right thing to do. The compound should be safe enough. Then again, all he really knew about it was that it was only slightly more civilized than the rest of the Wastelands. 

He sighed and leaned back against the old wreckage he had propped himself against. He wouldn’t have shelter tonight, it was rare to find any that wasn't overrun by radroaches out in the sands anyway. With the light from the fire he couldn’t see much. But he could make out the old billboard across from him. 

It was the one she’d always hated and he loved. She was in that skimpy astronaut suit riding a rocket with a Nuka-Cola in her hand. He’s constantly bombarded by his Vault Boy posters. Seeing her shouldn’t bother him. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever seen one of her ads out here, anyway. 

But it hurts him in a way it hadn’t before. Now he knew that she’d never left him, that she’d been screwed by the same company that ruined his life. He sighed and ran a hand over his rough cheeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he shouldn’t be considering this. 

He should just leave it be, leave her be. But he can’t. Once he’s got his teeth dug into something, it’s nearly impossible to let it go. 

You should have been paying better attention to where you were running, but all you could see was that woman’s lifeless body clutching her crying baby to her chest. You stumbled through a door, racing down the stairs until you were sure you were at the bottom floor. 

You burst through the door, wincing at the bright sunlight that shone down on you. You heard the sound of laughter and children’s voices as they screamed and ran past you. You jumped out of their way, watching as they chased each other. 

You glanced around, confused and disoriented, trying to figure out where you were. It must’ve been the back of the compound, beyond the different crops and gardens you couldn’t see anything but a radiated ocean. It was the same odd blue the lake Cooper had taken you to had been. 

Men in dirtied clothes were bent over different crops and vegetables, digging around in them and pulling out ripe foods. Some older children assisted them, holding tools of their own or carrying baskets of different crops. But you didn’t see any women among them. 

“Lost?” You whirled around on the man behind you, he raised his hands up with a startled expression on his face. “Sorry, sorry, I thought you heard me walk up.”

“Who are you?”

He held out his hand, an odd smile on his face. Everyone here had the same smile, nearly genuine but lacking just enough life to be. You looked at his hand and then back at him, making no move to take it. He was undeterred and just reached forward, yanking your hand into his and crushing your palm in too firm a grip. “Ben, good to meet you, Sylvie told me to come find you.” He seems oddly familiar, but you can’t place why.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Sylvie was the red head who’d been showing you around earlier. With one glance at the gun on his hip you figured this was another demand. You peered over your shoulder at the children again, surprised to find them already staring at you. The boys grinned but the girls didn’t even blink as Ben showed you back through the door. 

You took in a shaking breath and ascended the stairs once more, feeling your freedom slipping further away from you. Ben kept a tight grip on your wrist the whole way up. ”I’m excited to get to know you.”

You shot him a distrusting look and tried, unsuccessfully, to once more get him to release you. “Why would we be doing that?” 

He stopped and you were forced to follow. Your eyes bounced around the empty hallway, feeling incredibly on edge with the way he invaded your space. He had the eerie smile again, eyes roaming slowly up and down your form. “You are to be my breeding partner after all.”

What. The. Fuck. 

“Ben!”

You didn’t think you’d be happy to see Sylvie again, but right now you were ridiculously grateful for her interference. He backs off and it’s only then you feel like you can breathe again. You rip your wrist out of his grasp, rubbing away the bruise that bloomed under his hand. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you when you walk away and it takes everything in you not to turn around for another glance at him. 

Sylvie holds a door open for you at the end of the hall and you duck inside, trying to calm your racing heart after that interaction. “I apologize for Ben, he’s a bit overeager. He lost his partner this morning and I did promise him you,” she laughs and steps inside.

It’s only as she passes by you that the light goes on in your head. He’d been one of the men in the room with the mother. He’d been holding her. 

Your fists dig into the white fabric of your gown and you have to swallow the bile building in your throat down. Your hands are shaking horribly and your eyes go fuzzy. Lack of any real food is starting to catch up with you as your adrenaline spikes and plummets again. 

You’re not sure your heart can take much more of living in the Wastelands. 

Sylvie sits down at a long table, plates piled with food enough for ten people before her. But there are only two chairs, one for her, and you assume the other is for you. “Please,” she motions to the chair across from her, “sit.” Her tone brokers no negotiation and you find yourself walking on shaking legs to the other chair. 

You throw yourself down in it, staring blankly down at the plate. “What happened to his partner?” You whisper, unable to bring yourself to speak any louder. 

“It is the cycle of life here at our compound.” You glance up at her in astonishment but she’s not paying attention, just digging into her food. “Our goal is to repopulate the earth. Bring back society as it should be.”

“And how should it be?” You interrupt, fully disgusted by the people surrounding you now. “Because what I saw was sickening. You slaughtered her like she was an animal.”

Sylvie’s fork slams against the table and you jump in surprise. “That’s what she was, is.” She sighs and shakes her head, “It’s hard for an outsider to understand.”

“Then explain,” you order, voice sharp. You’re not going to play games with this woman. You want answers and you want them now. But more importantly you want to know why he would leave you here. How could he?

“Our mission, requires sacrifice. When they are ready, the women here are assigned a breeding partner. They give birth until they can’t and then…” That sickening grin was back and you found yourself shrinking back into your chair. “They provide for us in other ways. Organ harvesting is a very lucrative trade, did you know?” You shake your head mutely. “It’s what provides us with the medicine that saved your life last night.”

“The men? Does anything happen to them?”

She shrugs, digging into her meal once more. “They can reproduce much longer than women can. And when they can’t we find use for them in the fields. When they die, their body is used keep our agriculture thriving.” The woman you watched die this morning couldn’t have been older than thirty. 

And the man guarding Sylvie could have been the same age as your father. 

Cooper had sold you to be bred and then harvested. Like you were cattle. You glanced up at the guards but they weren’t looking at you. Why would they? Women clearly weren’t more than animals here. You could never be a threat. 

You slipped the knife off the table and into your sleeve. “And the women are okay with this?”

She looked at you like you were crazy for wondering such a thing. “Of course, they know they’re serving a higher purpose than themselves.” You scoffed in disbelief. Not only was this a human farm where you were harvested like a cow, you found yourself in the middle of some fucked up new world cult. 

“Did-” your voice cracks and you find the words difficult to get out. “Did Cooper know about this?”

“He would have had to.” She puts her fork down and digs through her pockets. She throws the dog tags he’d been carrying around at you. You catch them, noticing the back of the chain looked oddly melted. “The bounty he brought me, it was one of our old trading partners. Occasionally, we do business with the Brotherhood. One of their squires, he took a liking to one of our girls. She was sickly, too sickly to bring any more children to term. The day she was meant to be harvested he took her and they ran.”

She sighed and shook her head, a dark expression coming over her face. “I don’t take kindly to thieves. I wanted the tags as proof of his death.”

You didn’t know who the Brotherhood was, but you figured it was just another cult you didn’t want to know about. You placed the tags back on the table and stared down at your plate. “Couldn’t they have just stolen the tags and lied?”

She laughed and shook her head. “When his knight branded him, there was an accident. You couldn’t get those tags without taking his head off first.”

“And the girl?”

She looked up at you, frowning, “What about her?”

“Is she dead?” You knew Cooper was a bad man, but the thought of him shooting some defenseless girl made you sick to your stomach. Who could blame her for wanting to get out of this place?

Sylvie shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m sure without her little savior she’ll die eventually. She wasn’t made for Wasteland life.” Sylvie wiped her mouth and stood up. She rounded the table, coming to stand behind you, her rough palm circled around your nape and you whimpered at the tight grip. “See, there are things a lot worse than death waiting for you out there, little lamb. So, I suggest you learn your place here and be grateful for the few good years you’ll have left.”

She releases you with a shove and your hand shoots out to brace yourself against the edge of the table. She stalks towards the door, “You’ll join Ben tomorrow night. You have one night to make your peace with your place here.” The door slams shut and you finally feel the tears come.

He hears the coughing before he sees the shack. The smell of a rotting corpse overwhelms him and he figures the girl never bothered to move the body. How she’s lasted this long with the smell and gasses, he has no idea. But she was sick to begin with, he’s sure she won’t be lasting much longer. 

He throws the rickety wooden door open and steps over the bloated corpse of the squire he’d collected his bounty from. Sure enough, as he’d been expecting, the girl is curled up in the corner of the shed. She’s skin and bones at this point, her coughing causing her whole body to shake with painful tremors. 

She peers out from between her arms and levels him with a glare. Her eyes are bloodshot, the whites of them now yellow. “You.”

He leans against the table in the middle of the room and nods, “Me.”

“What,” she coughs again and his face screws up at the blood that dribbles from her lips. “What do you want now? Here to finish the job?”

He shakes his head, pulling out a Stimpak and some ration bars. She eyes the supplies hungrily, a rabid desperation on her frail face. She reaches for them but he places them just out of her reach, a cruel look on his face. “Need some answers.”

“About what?”

“The place your little boyfriend stole you from. My friend’s there, I need to know why exactly you left.”

She laughs, the sound cruel and costing. She wipes more blood from her mouth, a vicious grin on her lips. “Sorry, but your friend is fucked.” She pauses and the shakes her head, “Or she’s getting fucked at least. Over. And over. And over again. They certainly don’t waste any time there.”

She reaches for a bar again but he glares and pulls them back. She sighs and slumps against the wall. “What,” he snaps, “are you talking about?”

“They harvest us. The chickens are treated better than we are. They used us to make their little soldiers, until we can’t push them out anymore. And then they harvest us for parts. My little brother was five when he was taken, he was sick like me. He just didn’t hide it as well. They make sure you’re useful to them, dead or alive.” 

He doesn’t waste anymore time with her. He tosses the supplies at her and runs back out of the shed. Maybe, maybe, he’d had some suspicions about them being less than kind. But it was the Wastelands, no one here was truly good. 

He never would have thought it was going to be this bad. He never would have left her there if he thought something like this would happen. 

That’s what that woman had been talking about when she said compensation. He was fucking selling her, like a prize pig. He had wasted too much time traveling here for the confirmation. He should have just followed his gut instinct and gone back. But he was too fucking stubborn to let himself. 

He didn’t want to think that he was panicking. He had at one point considered killing her himself. Hell, he’d shot the girl. Why would it bother him so much if someone else did it?

He’d lost too much. He wasn’t entirely sure he could lose her again.

Your palm is wrapped around the handle of the knife you’d taken when the door creaks open. You tense up but otherwise remain still. The sound of muddy boots squelches across the tiles. You stay hidden under the covers. The moonlight from the window is just bright enough to cast a shadow over whoever is sneaking into your room. 

You smell him before you feel him. The smell of earth and vegetables suffocating you just as rough hands wrap around your arm. “Hey-”

You shoot up, uncurling like a viper and slamming your hand into his throat before he can even try to shout. Ben’s eyes flare wide, terror consuming them before you twist the knife and rip it out. Arterial blood sprays across your face and he slumps to the floor, limp. 

You rush to close the door and turn back to him. He’s a big man, tall and buff with muscle, you strip off his work shirt and pants, figuring they’ll just have to work for now. You take his boots and stuff his socks into the tips so they’ll fit better. You grasp the pistol off his waist and tuck it into your belt. 

You go through all the drawers and cabinets of the room. You take any supplies you can find and toss them in a pillow case before unlocking the door and slipping back into the hallway. You don’t hear the telltale sounds of guards patrolling and figure you should be able to slip out through the stairs. 

You’re almost down the steps when you stop. Something in you won’t let you go any farther. Your mind jumps to Sylvie. How casually she’d discussed the slaughter of women over her lunch. How quick she was to turn you into cattle rather than view you as something human. 

That familiar rage you used to feel builds up in you. Your entire adult life you’d fought to be viewed as a real person. As someone who deserved the same care and respect everyone else got. And she, a woman, was so quick to tear that away from you. To perpetuate further suffering as long as she got to profit off of it. 

You back out of the stairwell and head down the hallway. You blindly walk the path you’d walked earlier to her quarters. You see that mother in your head, clutching her baby as she drew her last breath. And she’d known it was coming. Every girl here knew what was coming.

Little boys got to smile and laugh and play and the girls grew up knowing what their fate was going to be. And they were content with it. 

Two guards are stationed outside of Sylvie’s door. You shoot them both. You know the sounds will alert others. You don’t have much time left. You burst through the door of her room. Her lamp is on and she’s already waiting for you. Her gun is on her lap, and she’s smiling at you as you walk in. “You can still turn around-”

“I know my place,” you interrupt and she frowns. “I’m not letting pricks like you, who think they get a gun and rule the world, make decisions for me anymore.” She reaches for the revolver on her lap but you’re pulling the trigger faster. The bullet tears through her throat and she lurches forward. Her hands claw desperately at her neck, blood pouring between her fingers. 

You run forward, pulling the revolver from her lap and tuck it into the waistband of your pants. You make your way out the door and towards the stairs again. You can hear booted footsteps rushing towards you, nearly at the doorway just as you slam it closed. 

You manage to fly down one flight of stairs before the door’s crashing open and slamming into the wall. Shouts echo through the stairwell. Orders to shoot you are issued but you’re barreling through the gate of the compound before they can grab you. 

You look behind you, watching as all the guards search the grounds for you and you laugh. You nearly can’t believe it. That you made it out, that you finally stood up for yourself. For a moment in there you’d almost considered giving in and just letting it happen. 

Living in the Wastelands was hard, giving in would be so easy. Letting someone just make the decisions for you would be easy. But the base instinct of survival is a tough opponent to beat. You couldn’t let yourself give up and give in to another person who thought humans were just another form of compensation. 

You only have one last stop to make. 

He’d had to camp for the night before he could make it back to the compound. He hadn’t wanted to stop but he figured they’d paid him so well that they weren’t planning on just getting rid of her the first night. He’d go by tomorrow and take her back. How well that went was up to them. 

He stared into the fire and sighed. He felt like a fucking fool leaving her there. He should know better. But he’d been so desperate to just get rid of her it was easy to ignore all the signs telling him not to. He couldn’t handle her anymore. Couldn’t handle all the old emotions she drudged up around him. 

He couldn’t be what she wanted, what she needed. Deep down, maybe, the old Cooper was still in there. But he wasn’t willing to bring him back. Not for her, not for anybody. That didn’t mean he was just going to let her die, though.

He was squatted by the dying fire, eating some jerky, when he heard someone approaching. He didn’t get a chance to turn around before a shot was going off and his hat was flying off his head. It lands in the sand behind him and he turns, almost surprised to find her. 

She’s got a revolver in her hand, dried specks of blood on her cheeks. “You better pray you didn’t just put a hole in my hat, sweetheart.” She narrows her eyes at him and lowers the gun.

“You sold me.”

He stands up and raises his hands in a placating motion. She’s trigger happy, but he knows she isn’t gonna shoot him. If she was, she would have done it a long time ago. “In my defense, darling, I didn’t know they were a bunch of sickos.”

She scoffs, eyes wide with disbelief. “Really? So they didn’t pay you for me?”

He sucks on his teeth and frowns, “Well-”

“Just shut up!” She stares at him in astonishment, shaking her head and muttering something to herself. His eyes stay on the revolver in her hands as she waves it around wildly, trying to figure out the best way to get her to put it down. 

“I was on my way back for you, darling.”

She whirls around, the gun up and pointing at him again. “Yeah, like I’ll believe anything you’ll say to me right now.” She backs away from him and her fists clench around something dangling from her left hand. He finally notices the tags she’s holding now. The same one’s he’d given Sylvie. 

Just what the hell had she done to get out of there? He’s almost impressed by her sheer stubbornness to stay alive. 

“The girl, the one who was with your bounty, what happened to her?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. I left her where she was.” Her thumbs pulls the hammer of the revolver back and he laughs. He can’t stop himself from antagonizing her, taking a sick sort of satisfaction from the fact that he could push her as much as he wanted and she still wouldn’t pull the trigger. 

“She reminded me of you. Battered and bruised, used up and left behind. She couldn’t protect herself, couldn’t even drag her boyfriend’s corpse out of their little hut.”

Her eyes get glossy and he takes in the sight with a grin. She always had been pretty when she cried. “You are a bad person. And I knew that and still tried to find something good in you. But you are rotten to your core, there is nothing human left in you.”

His mouth settles into a firm line and he finds himself a little pissed off. “Now, darling-”

He doesn’t see it coming. Doesn’t even realize what’s happened until he’s flying back and hitting the ground. He doesn’t feel any pain, his adrenaline pumping so much all he can feel is the vibrations. The impact of the bullet carving it’s way through his chest as he lay there on the ground. 

She walks over to him, eyes empty as she stands over him and watches the blood pool out. “We’re done, Cooper.”

She leaves him on the ground, not looking back as he presses his hand to his wound in shock. He didn’t think she had it in her. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[tuxedonet]

ঌ HAVING A BIMBO GIRLFRIEND ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ starring. hotd male cast.

" significant moments in the life of house of the dragon ⠀⠀⠀ actors with their significant other peculiar style. "

✱ MATT SMITH ──── the taming one .

he revered you fervently , really. his thorax swelled with the swash of a scalding wave , swamping in a purr of contentment as he delineated the zig―zag of your frisky teeny skirt and the swing of your denuded hips. he straightened his back and the coast of his pink mouth steepened into a sly smirk , with the pride that only a father could carry ― that your daddy should carry. don't fret , for that was what he was there for , breathing in the succulent rivulet that crammed the itty―bitty bottle of mon paris by yves saint laurent at the juncture of your clavicle.

the enthralling clatter of your pinkish platform heels gouge through the hallway of his home , prompting him of your presence long before you appeared in his office where he was striving to conclude a mailing for his agent. his black mount glasses hung loosely down the bridge of his nose , and his brow furrowed tenderly as he peered up. he got tanked on the contrast of raw denim and mulberry of your attire , your pompous lips gleaming in dior lip gloss coiled the artificially flavored sphere of a lollipop , letting it flee in a wet lashing. the peak of your fussy tongue sweeps the thin , sweetish coating of your mouth , before stamping them thunderously against his flat , satiny cheek with magnified affection.

you fall heedlessly into his lap , and his upper limb wraps around the deep arch of your waist , his thick fingers kneading the velvety flesh of your belly. his chin slump on the hill of your shoulder , pecking at your mandible. your arm tauten forward , prying deer―eyed at the sleek keyboard of his computer , twinkling in inquisitiveness.

" tsk .ᐟ don't touch that , little girl. " he hisses gruffly , with the pitch pattern of a anew awakened man , but it was solely the outcome of the cigarettes he smoked and the pure rum glasses he drank at night .

you sulk , whining. " i want to show you something , amorcito. "

he slant his head , humming unbiddenly. his leg hops in snappy , brief leaps , cooing the wrinkling frown amidst your brows.

" is it perhaps a new collection of dresses ? hmm , pretty thing ? " he inquired with the gallantry that diminished his ill―judged accusation. he perceives your perky nods , twisting your neck to ogle at him desirously. " i recall buying you some dresses last week. dare you tell me the day , beautiful? " he tattle.

your index finger fiddles with the marble polished shore of his desk , your face of porcelain misshape into a pensive countenance. " it was saturday. " you dissolve. " but i've used them all already. " you blurt woefully , and he jolt a hum once again in settlement.

" you still haven't  used  the purple one. " the ridges of your mouth droop quivering , and your arms cut cross in a relinquish tantrum.

" it doesn't look pretty on me. " you chatter in a garble timbre. matt smother a chortle behind your shoulder blade , rubbing several frail kisses instead.

he scratches the tarp of your naked stomach in succor. " to me you look  divine  in anything. " he offers mawkishly . " why don't you go and wear it  for me , heh? i promise to buy you more dresses once you wear it , darling. " he silkily commend on the curvature of your earlobe , and said in that manner makes the conception mouth―watering to your palette.

you ascend from his thigh , primed to comply. your fingers shoves the edges of your skirt below the end of the fleshy globes of your bottom.

" tsk .ᐟ give me a kiss before you leave. "

✱ EWAN MITCHELL ──── the weak in the knees one . 

poor boy , he just can't help but stare. your clothes were intrepid , appealing to the eye — bewitching to him. you strutted in pleated skirts that swayed with your cat―walk and heels that elongate your legs , mid―thigh length stockings smooth to the tact of the pads of his avid fingers and glossy lipsticks that accentuated the benign fat of your lips , scented your languid neck with expensive perfumes and decorated your wrists with multiple diamond bracelets. low waisted pants on monday mornings and freakum dresses on friday nights. each wardrobe yanked him to you , yearning to feel the ricochet material underneath his sweaty palms , to taste the artificial flavor in your mouth.

he would meticulously behold the arduous process , sitting on the toilet seat in the bathroom of the hotel room both of you were staying in. you would take great exertion to match an outfit that went associated with his on every date , an effort he took amorously to heart.

his head glided in the direction of your nimble hand , picking up hair brushes and makeup tools. he would hum thoughtlessly once you displayed the utility of each item , and enshrine them in his brain. he would timorously ask about the purpose of certain things , and even persuade you in a sunken stammer to applicate them on his sharp face. with a squeal of excitement , you always encountered yourself dusting his hoisted cheekbones with base and adding coconut lip―balm to his naturally pouty mouth.

" you look beautiful , mi amor. " you adulate your handiwork , grooming his golden brown mane backwards with a leopard patterned pocket comb.

the coast of his lips stretch into a rascal―looking grin. however , the wrinkles at the crook of his orbs attested otherwise.

he aims to the sides of his pointed nose. " does it make my eyes stand out? " he questioned , gazing plumbly at you.

you nod complacently , giving his fleecy strands the finishing touches. you cradle his sleek cheeks between your creamy palms in a distinctive strawberry―scented exfoliating scrub.

" they're poppin'  " you emphasize , and he repeats the word in a vague attempt to mimic the accent.

✱ TOM GLYNN—CARNEY ──── the bragging one .

              the both of you were a chaotic duo , a volatile combination to the public eye. tom possessed no shame whatsoever; he liked what he liked. it was his motto in life , and so far it had rooted him no severe dilemma. therefore , he didn't feel he had to elucidate to anyone why or how he had ended up with a person like you. still , he was interrogated incautiously from time to time; on radio shows , in small interviews at the premieres of his latest project or in gossip from his work friends. he tended to modestly shrug his shoulders and retort concisely , settling with a pearly smile.

nevertheless , such things become grueling over time; the more recognized he develop into , a larger amount of people desired to inquire into his atypical election of a partner. so , nit―picking and witty , he started to take you everywhere. he would show you out on red carpets and in house of the dragon press tour interviews with the edges of his mouth brushing the hint of his ears and his arm sheathed around the dip of your waist .

his thumb kneaded the suave skin under his fingertip , impeling you against his rib cage. with cheeks rosy in a peachy blush and in bashfulness as you stood fore the giant camera , you smiled angelically at the interviewer who vigorously asked him trivially about the development of his character in the second season of the famed  tv show. he managed to entail you divertingly , always delighted to brag about you. 

" aegon could never in his life get someone like her. just look how  pretty  she is in her little dress.ᐟ " he rambled in a sing―songy pitch , steeping rearward for the objective of having them catch your presence veiled below his shoulder. your hand squeezed his bicep beneath the velvety bottle―green jacket , gnawing the gloss painted supple flesh of your lower lip.

you gracefully thwack his left pectoral. " tommy , para. " you babbled above the woman's enliven gaze and words of corroboration spoken with a titanic grin.

he whir smugly , planting a resounding peck on the cotton of your flushed cheek. " they have to know i’m with the most  beautiful girl  they've ever seen. "

✱ HARRY COLLETT ──── the encouraging one .

he is very appeased , following you like a puppy behind its owner. his honeyed orbs gleamed as he took in the sparkles and jewels on your leather corset , or the pearls distributed around the edges of your flare pants. he was enraptured by your existence at all times , he couldn't get enough; not now , not never. you had him by your wide hip , snuggly tied between your bb belt.

he tends to seek your assistance when it comes to attires , sending you pictures of the outfits he will wear for max promotions interviews. he would beg at a certain point in the day for you to do the same if he didn't get a chance to see you for the time being.

he would make sure he was there , watching you at the feet of the queen―sized bed in your room , choosing and mixing outfits , a pout on your glossy pink mouth and your index finger tilted on your chin in a discerning semblance. his aid in those moments was of little use , as he claimed that everything looked good on you. he would keep quiet , then , as he didn't want you to kick him out of the bedroom.

some spontaneous dates were , even , based on shopping. most of the bags were your purchases. none had been your voluntary selection , though. harry would see anything he thinks would match with a skirt or blouse in your closet or clothes newly acquired deep in the chanel handbag sealing his forearm , and scour your regard before putting it in the bushel , buying it for you. when you grumbled at the overpriced accessories and make―up he grasped just because you had stopped to look at them in the aisle of the store , he was hasty to rebuff your perseverance of you paying for them with your money , or return them.

a small gasp erupts from his roseate , pouty mouth , fingers clutching the hanger that held the white jacket with synthetic polar bear fur detailing. " love , look. this would look good on you with your cheetah lace dress. " he comments impetuously , his bunny frontal teeth shining adoringly over the shoulder of the garment.

" it's too expensive , bebé. " you examine the miniature off―white card on the side of the fluffy fabric.

he snorts skeptically  , prudently tossing the gear into the plastic basket amidst his digits. his hand meanders against your palm , and he budge you forward.

" don't worry , it's on me. " he proclaims. " now come on , i think i saw some nice necklaces in that corner over there. "

I WANT REVENGE © TUXEDONET ╱ 2024.

[artiststarme]

After the events of Spring Break and long before either of them even consider dating, Steve and Eddie become friends. Eddie shares his weed and buys them alcohol, Steve provides food and a place for Wayne and Eddie to crash for awhile, and Robin kind of freeloads on everything (although she considers her witty one-liners and company payment enough). Even still though, it takes more than just friendship to force Steve to join a DnD campaign. 

With the departure of Grant, Jeff, and Gareth from the Hellfire club, the Party is woefully short on manpower. Will joins and Eleven tries too but even with the addition of their two characters, the Party isn’t strong enough to survive Eddie’s devious campaigns. So they target Steve. Between Eddie’s pleading puppy dog eyes and the endless pestering of the kids, Steve joins. Initially, he’s hesitant. He thinks he’s only going to play a handful of games to get the kids back on their feet before parting with them. But then he discovers that he’s good at it. He discovers that he enjoys flirting with the NPCs and annoying the shit out of his fellow characters. He likes saving the kids and watching their backs in fights all too reminiscent of the Upside Down. It makes him feel useful, needed, wanted. 

Most of all though, he likes seeing how his words affect Eddie. He starts looking forward to  seeing the blank look on Eddie’s face when he does something he’s not expecting, forcing Eddie to dive into the very depths of his imagination. Steve likes seeing Eddie’s lips quirk into a smirk when his flirts land their mark. He imagines kissing the quirk away until those very same lips are bruised red with burst capillaries. He wants to see Eddie’s smile directed at him for every moment of everyday, not just from behind the Dungeon Master’s partition or on a dinner date with Robin. Steve wants to hear Eddie’s husky voice explain his plans for DnD while they cuddle in bed hiding from the cold Indiana winter (although he would never admit something so nerdy to anyone). His thoughts and Eddie’s reactions to his admittedly mediocre flirting only makes Steve like playing DnD with him more. 

He especially enjoys the day when all the flirting finally leads Eddie to corner him once the kids leave to ask him out on a proper date (or in their case, Cheetos and strawberry milkshakes on the roof of Eddie’s van while watching snowflakes fall from frozen clouds). In hindsight, it only made him wish he’d joined the nerdy dragon club sooner. Maybe then he could’ve been kissing Eddie Munson for years by then. Steve guesses he’d just have to keep Eddie around for years to come.

[kosmosguk]

Lineage (M) | Special Chapter: How It Began

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be. But many years before the events of Lineage's main story takes place, there was once only the love of a beloved goddess and a damned demon.

Warnings:  HEAVY yandere themes, death, gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language

A/N: Surprise, everyone! It's been, what, 4 years since I finished Lineage and 3 years since I stopped writing on this blog. I've been through a lot of ups and downs in the meantime (to underplay it), but I'm now in a pretty good spot. I've thought about writing this for years and there's probably at least 10 incomplete versions of this on my old laptop, but writer's slump was a huge barrier. It wasn't until a conversation with a roommate who had complained that a fic she liked was never fully fully complete that I thought about trying again, from scratch, to complete this part for Lineage. Lineage will always be my baby, and on a reread of it to prepare to write this chapter, the me of the past did do better than expected (probably better than the me of today). I don't know if any of my original readers are still here from the days when I was active on this blog, but even if it's just one, I hope I brought this story alive just a little longer. Will I write the epilogue though (which also has 10+ incomplete drafts)? We'll see :) Hopefully it won't take another 4 years!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Special Chapter |

A beautiful clearing stretched on underneath the heat of a sun that always remained warm. It was green and lush, but void of any budding blooms. There were bits of dried flowers that showed that there might have been flowers once, which had blossomed as quick back then as rain drops fell from the sky. This clearing was eternal, and it could only be changed by the touch of a being blessed by the divine or damned by the evil.

A man, cloaked in black, bent down into the clearing. There was only one more bloom now that still remained, a reminder of a time that seemed distant and far. It was hard to pick out from the shadows that spread from his feet, but he restrained the shadows until the yellow flower could tentatively peek out through the green.

It was time now. He could bring her back. She would fill this clearing with flowers again like she did before, and she would laugh as he clumsily wove together a crown from them.

He plucked the flower out of the grass and pressed it against his lips tenderly. It shriveled and dried up, leaving a colorless husk. He let it flutter out of his grasp and looked up at the sun for the first time in his existence.

"I will bring you back," he promised then. His voice sounded like he had not spoken in many years. He pulled out his sword and pierced it into the grass, watching the green shrivel into gray.

In the glint of his sword, there was a reflection of a young maiden, her fists kneading against a ball of dough. When she moved slightly, nudging the hair off of her shoulders, a hint of red was seen on her skin.

You were born in a field of flowers, blooming beautifully underneath a sky lit with gold. The daughter of the God of Life and the Goddess of Creation, you were beloved by all beings who relied on the earth to live. You, who had lived under the protection of all who was Good, were woefully ignorant of the true darkness of those who lived in the shadows of Evil.

But then on a peaceful day, not unlike the day you had been born, you realized then how easy it was for Evil to creep into the realm of the Good.

“Wake up, my goddess!”

You flinched, peeking your eyes open to the Fairy of Tulips pulling the hem of your tunic with her small fists. “I am sleeping, Little Tulip. Only official orders will wake me.”

The sun was warm against your skin, and the clarity of your mind was still soft from the blurry haze of sleep. Though deities had little need for sleep, your habit of naps was known far and wide through the Creators’ realm. You tried to close your eyes again, nestling back into the bed of grass, and brush her off your clothes, but she clung onto your palm, chomping on your thumb. You yelped, now wide awake.

She squinted down at you, fluttering up off your palm, and placed her hands on her hips, the sunrise tulip petals adorning her body swaying in her frenzy. “The flowers have been murmuring that there’s evil nearby! We have to leave. Now!”

You laughed. Evil? Evil had not existed in this realm for many eons, after the War ended with victory of the Good. But when the little fairy’s expression didn’t show a hint of amusement and the muttering of the flowers around you remained, you frowned and pushed yourself up to stand.

“If you are certain of evil, then I will bring myself to check it out. It would not do any of us good if I left the situation unchecked, as we are by the border of the realm.” You stepped forward, flowers blooming underfoot to soften your path. The little fairy tugged at your clothes, hoping to stop you, but you kept walking further away from the clearing you had been lazing in towards the forest by it. Instead of the welcoming lush green that usually greeted you, the forest was coated in darkness.  

When the muttering of the flowers pitched in volume, you knew you were getting close. You placed your hands out, ready to call for nature’s aid if the situation called for it. However, instead of some vile creature looming over you with venom oozing from its pores, a young man laid in the midst of the darkness. A closer look prompted a gasp to leave your lips. He was beautiful, more beautiful than any deity you had ever seen, and if you had not been entrenched in shadows, you could have been fooled to believe him holy. But the oozing black blood from the wound on his side and his eyes, which flickered open to glower at you, were a startling red.

He scooted back, his free hand falling to the blade by him.

“I will not hurt you!” you spoke before you could process the thought, mesmerized by the sight of his eyes. You showed him your hands. Your eyes dropped to the curve of his lips, which if it had not been pulled in a sneer would have been lush and have softened his features. “I am a healer and a grower, not a killer.”

His expression decreased in hostility. You hesitatingly asked: “Is it alright if I come close? You can keep your sword by you, and if I do anything unpleasant, I will understand if you slay me but...” You teetered for a moment. “But if you kill me, I cannot ensure your safety and that would be bad for you and me. Me because I would be dead and you because you would also be dead and...”

You were interrupted by a laugh. Your eyes flickered back to him. He looked startled at the sound he had made, and you smiled brightly in response. You took a step closer. When he did not tense, you dropped to your knees and raised your palm over his side. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and both of you sat in an entranced silence, staring at the other. His eyes dropped to your lips, though there was still a guarded look to him, and you held your breath.

“Do you want me to put my hand down?”

“What?” you sputtered. Oh. Heat burned at your cheeks as you noticed the playful tug of his lips. You nodded quickly. He must have thought you were amusing. You focused back on healing, and you would leave and tell Little Tulip to not say a word. You vowed that you would never see this brute, who enjoyed your embarrassment, again.

When he dropped his hand, you called your healing power, but the unpleasant quirk of your lips increased the time it took to fully heal his wound. When the flesh closed over the wound, you leapt back to your feet. You felt foolish, very unlike the noble and dignified deity you were supposed to be.

“I am going now. I will not tell a soul about you. You do not need to thank me, but I will tell you that you must not wander into this realm again. I guarantee that the next deity you meet will not be as forgiving as me and...”

Your lips pinched together when you felt his touch around your wrist. He pulled your hand down, and lifted his head to kiss the inside of your palm. You flinched at the press of his lips on your skin. He looked up at you, mistrust no longer in his eyes. “You are my savior. May I not be able to see you anymore?”

You dropped your gaze from his. If he heeded your words and you no longer saw him again, would the emptiness in you at the thought grow more and more?

“Only here,” your voice was but above a whisper. “If I see your shadows in the woods, I will come find you. But you must not come find me.”

He was silent for a second. “You are as cruel as you are kind, my goddess.”

He still had not let go of your hand and though his touch was cold, you felt fire licking up where his fingers made contact with your skin. You pulled your hand back like he had scalded you and spun on your heel, flowers having barely enough time to bloom underneath your bare feet with the quickness that you fled.

When you left the woods, your feet scratched up for the first time in your existence and your cheeks red, you could only force yourself to squeeze out a sentence at the quivering little fairy: “There was no evil.”

Your encounters with him continued, in secret and away from prying eyes. You talked about your visits to the human world: the songs you had heard and how you wished you could have danced and the loaves of bread you spotted cooling on the tables. You even talked about how your duties burdened you, though you were made to fulfill them, and how you felt like you were only able to handle them out of love for your humans. He talked about the books he had picked up in the human world, how he had found them meager and naïve at first and then interesting, and the little lake of lava he had grown up by and skipped rocks in. Though he spoke very little, when he did, you were captured by him.

And with the increase of encounters, your feelings of love, which you had reserved for only the creations that had been blessed by the hands of the Creators, grew. You let him hold you close to his chest, and when you laid your head on his flesh, you swore you could almost hear a heart beat quicker and quicker.

On your seventh encounter, when you had brought a basket of flowers into the woods to weave into crowns, you had placed one on his head. When he reached out into your basket and pulled out a handful of flowers, you watched him clumsily weave the flowers together and place the lopsided crown on your head. How could this man, as tender and clumsy as he was, be evil?

When he looked dejected at the sight of the crown limply hanging onto your head, you laughed and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. You had seen your lovely humans do this to express their adoration. And it was accurate to the moment: you adored him, to the point where you could ignore where his origins had laid root in.

Immediately, his hands reached up around your waist and pressed you close until you were on his lap. You gasped against his lips, and his tongue was in your mouth, delving into its depths. You burned underneath his exploration, your hands clenching onto his clothes into fists. Oh, you had never known pleasure like this, so unlike the simpleminded happiness you felt watching the trees hum in the wind and your humans create art. This pleasure was different: it blazed hotly, burning down trees and creating destruction in its path.

When the two of you were separated, your eyes blurred in a haze, he brushed his finger over the plumpness of your bottom lip, soaked in the mixture of saliva. His eyes were filled with anguish, but for what, you did not know. “My name is Yoongi.”

You let out a startled gasp at this. Oh. Oh no. You knew this name. You pushed away from him and onto your feet, flinging an arm out to point at him. “You are the Demon God. You...!”  

He was on his feet now, his hands reaching out to grab onto you. But you were inconsolable, banging your fists on his chest. Fire burned before your gaze, glimpses of your beloved humans hopelessly shielding their children from horrible monsters that would tear them apart and consume their remains. You knew those screams. You could hear them even now.

“You are the one to harm my beloved humans! I have seen your creations rise up, full of evil and malice. I have seen them destroy and terrorize and kill-!”

He held your hands to his chest, pressing your fists against where his heart would have been had he been human. The fight drained out of you, as you laid limply in his embrace, tears wetting the fabric of his clothes. His voice was ragged as he spoke. “I am full of evil, my goddess. I was full of evil. I admit, I who had been wandering in darkness did not know good. But you, who could have slain me, showed me good when you saved me. I can be good for you, as long as you do not leave me. You hold my pitiful existence in your hands.”

He reached up a hand to touch the flower crown. The crown disintegrated underneath his touch, leaving bits of ashes. “You see, whatever I touch, I destroy. But with you, I can control this damned ability of mine. I can see reason.” He swallowed heavily. “I can see you. And when I see you, I see all that is good. I can see the flowers that you love to smell and out of all of them, you love lilies the most. I can see that you love humans, though they pillage and lie and kill. I can see why all beings seek the warmth of the day and fear the coldness of night.”

You looked up at him. You could only see the redness of his eyes then. But beneath it, there was a being who you were certain loved you. And you loved him, as much as you loved your humans. He, who was evil, was nothing more than a creation led astray.

“I am sorry,” you finally whispered, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. “I...You will have to give me time.”

When you pushed yourself away from him, this time for good, you walked away.

When he saw that you had left without even a look back at him, he looked up as a large crow flew down. When it landed, it transformed into that of a handsome man with narrow eyes and bronzed skin and cheeks that would have revealed a dimple had he been a smiler.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi spoke, “Keep an eye on her for me. I will leave to deal with the issues of the Demon Realm.”

Namjoon nodded his head and hummed in agreement. “I will. A favor for a friend.”

Yoongi laughed. “Your associations with humans have made you more like them. A demon has no need for friends. In our existence, there are those who lead, and those who follow.”

Namjoon turned his head to look at where the little goddess had been. “And how would you describe her: a leader or a follower?”

Yoongi’s hands clenched briefly, like he could still feel her warmth, and his eyes were still pinned to where she had been. “She is holy. Holier than my damned existence. And yet I still want to monopolize her and make her look only at me.”

“So then?” Namjoon asked again. “How would you categorize her?”

Yoongi remained silent for a moment. Then, he vanished, leaving Namjoon alone in the forest. Namjoon thought to himself then: what about this little goddess captured the attention of a demon that had been damned from the beginning?

Namjoon kept a careful eye on the goddess. Though on the surface, it was due to orders from his liege, he could not help the insatiable curiosity about her. She was kind—though kindness was not much familiar to a demon like him. She certainly loved those humans, as foolish and terrible they were. And when she watched a wedding, there was a certain sadness lingering in her eyes that captured him.

And so, as Yoongi remained away from her side, Namjoon found himself fixated on this presence.

He had been following her in a crow form when he was caught by the pudgy hands of some kid who was little more than the neighborhood bully. The kid had thrown him onto the ground and menacingly reached down to start plucking at his feathers. He had thought about growing back into a fierce snake, who could rear up to bite the human that dared to grab him and leave him on the verge of death, when a voice cried out.

“Leave that bird alone!”

The child bully looked up, prepared to viciously attack the person who dared to interrupt his fun time, but swallowed his words at the sight of the glowering adult. The little goddess had taken on the form of a muscular man, with biceps that bulged like the size of a boulder, and the kid had been too flustered to come up with a retort. Instead, the kid dropped Namjoon’s bird form and sped off.

When the muscular man shifted back into the form of the little goddess, Namjoon watched as you ran up to him and lifted him up to inspect him. “Oh, I am so glad you were not harmed! I love those humans, but I do not particularly enjoy it when they decide to hurt other innocent beings.” You squinted down at him with analytical eyes. Namjoon gulped, fearing that you would have caught onto the true self that lingered underneath the disguise. “Do you think I was too mean by taking on that scary form, right?”

Namjoon shook his head, forgetting that birds should not have understood the human language. But you laughed like this was to be expected, and Namjoon felt silly: of course, animals like birds would understand the words of this goddess. “Good! Well, I will let you be now, little guy. Try to be more careful, so you will not get caught again. You are a handsome bird, with very beautiful feathers. There are many humans who would catch you just to capture your feathers.”

Namjoon puffed up in pleasure. Of course, he was beautiful. He was a high-ranking demon. This crow form was nothing for him. If anything, he was the most handsome crow out of all the crows that occupied the human realm. He squinted his eyes. What was he even thinking?

In his agitation, he fluttered his wings and flapped away, ignoring the tinkling sound of laughter that she made when he almost rammed into a tree branch.

When Yoongi returned and had asked Namjoon on how his goddess had fared without seeing him, Namjoon could not help the zip of pleasure that ran through him when he had answered that she had been more than fine, and Yoongi had glowered in response.

Namjoon then understood why Yoongi had been unable to answer him when he had asked which category the little goddess had occupied. She was neither a leader nor a follower. Her existence itself was a source of contentment, of happiness that destroyed the boundary between who was meant to control and who was meant to be controlled.

There were many creations that were beautiful. And there were few creations that were both beautiful and kind. But beautiful and kind creations never lived long.

You loved most the most beautiful and kind of the humans: a young girl who had lived as a daughter of a baron. You had chanced upon her on one of your visits, watching her help the poor though her family itself had little means, and when she had begged for help from a deity to help save her from her plight, you had been listening to her pleas that she not be sold to the vicious king that ruled over her kingdom.

You did something that you reserved for only your most favorite humans: you appeared in front of her. When you had offered her a way to avoid the favor of the king—a bell that would turn her into a bird that could fly out of the king’s grasp—she had laid on the ground and kissed your feet in joy.

But word of the goddess that appeared with the golden bell spread far and wide. And when you entered the human realm, wanting to see how that human girl was faring, you were soon captured by the king’s army. When you were lead to the throne room, your hands wrapped in chains, you were distraught at the sight of your most favorite human pointing at you.

“This is the goddess!” she declared. She turned to the king, who looked like a walking corpse with sallow skin and hollow cheeks underneath the gold and silk he wore. “Your majesty, I implore you to remember our deal. For her capture, you will let go of my parents and give us enough gold to revitalize our land and tend to our people.”

Oh, though she had betrayed you so, you felt a rush of pride. Betrayal for a good reason, you could tolerate, for you loved her so. But the king had merely raised his hand, and a knight rushed forward with a fell swoop of his sword. When her head, bloody, fell in front of you, you let out a ragged cry.

The king knelt down in front of you, a blade in his hand. You flinched as he wielded the knife...and sliced his palm open. He reached up to cup your cheek, smearing his blood on your flesh. “I heard tears from a goddess could cure all wounds.”

He lifted his palm back and watched with awe as the wound on his palm closed up. His eyes glowed with a sick greed. “Then it must be true. That the blood of a goddess can cure all ailment. You know, I had this knife brought to me for this very moment when I first heard the legends. It is made of a terrible evil capable of killing good. You should know that I was granted this knife from the Demon God himself after I sacrificed many peasants.”

He raised the knife and sliced your palm. You felt pain for the first time in your existence, but even more hurtful, you felt anguish bite at what might have been your heart. Gold ichor spilled out of your wound, and he hastily bent down to drink your blood. Color returned to his cheeks at once. You watched in disgust and horror as he laughed with glee. He sobered up, looking down at you. His eyes glittered with the remnants of the sickness that had imprisoned him so.

“Then it must be true. That the sacrifice of a goddess can fulfill any wish, a wish that would last for all of time. Your death can bring anyone back to life. For with your death, life will follow. I will be able to see my wife then.” He lifted the knife, and you were silent as he brought it down in a fell swoop. The blade pierced the flesh above your clavicle, but not a sound of pain left your lips. You pinched them together, even as your body collapsed on the cold floor.

You thought of Yoongi then. You wanted to let him know that you forgave him, for his deceit and for how he had tricked your beloved humans. But you were no longer capable of doing so. You were bleeding out on this floor, just like any other mortal that you had loved. You hoped that the Creators would not hurt the humans who had harmed you. There were many you had loved. And you knew that the Creators loved them even more so.

You saw a flash of red in front of your blurry gaze. A voice called your name, begging. You had never heard a voice that despaired like this voice did. You wondered, for a moment, why it sounded like Yoongi. Something wet splashed onto your skin, the sound of a crackle and a pop following. Ah, the tears of a demon, unlike the tears of a god, caused pain. But you did not feel any pain, not now. Ah, it was Yoongi.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you saw good in him, that even when you were not around he could still be good. But your time, which had seemed to stretch on infinitely before, was now finite, limited by a few seconds left.

You whispered, gasping out short little breaths between the words. “I...forgive...all.”

“Wake...!” you heard.

And then you could speak no longer. And you could hear no longer.

The end of the realms was imminent. Underneath the grief of the ruler of the demon realm, fires roared and overtook earth. Soon, once earth was taken and destroyed, rage would spread and bring all that existed down to the burning afterworld.

The God of Life could not stand by and witness the end of all that he had created. When he had found himself in front of the Demon God, he had been prepared for the sword that the Demon God had pointed at his chest.

“You...! She is your daughter, and you wish me to spare the lives of the humans who...!” The Demon God had screamed in anguish. He laughed then, the sound ironic and cruel. "I know you beings are both cruel and kind. For if she had been less kind, she would have been less cruel, choosing her love of humans over...over our love."

The God of Life loved all he created very much. And he had loved his daughter, who had sprung forth from the love he had with his wife, very much as well. But as the Giver of Life, he was unable to upset the balance of the world he had created, not when the balance was so fragile. He could not bring his daughter back. Not without an equal trade. Not without a deal.

“More than you would ever know in your damned existence, I love her very much." Loved. "Yet, I too am unable to go against the tide of Fate." In that moment, for the first time in his existence that had always been steady and predictable, the God of Life relented.

"However, there is a chance for her to return.” He started. “But you must adhere to what I will tell you. So that you will not destroy the world, I will tell you of how you may be granted mercy from Fate. But there is little in this world that is certain."

The Demon God was silent now, his face stony and emotionless. But there was something dangerous taking root in his eyes. A sickness that could not be cured: Hope.

And Hope was the most dangerous thing, for as much as it could create, it could also destroy. Hope would be the reason why humanity would continue. And hope would be the reason why the king, who in his madness had killed a deity, did not die. And why many, many years later, a princess that once had been the most loved existence in all of the realms would be born into this kingdom in the absence of love.

For hope could destroy lineage, as much as it tried to preserve it.

A/N: As always, leave a comment! Though I'm not active like I used to be, I do check messages that come into my inbox and do see when y'all (if anyone is still here haha) comment. If anything, another motivator that had me come back to this blog just for this story was someone who messaged me two years ago. @theedungeonwitch, though I was in a not so great place then and wasn't able to respond to you, I'm leaving my flowers here for you now. No tag list, since I'm not sure who's still here and still willing to read this chapter :)

[virune]

If you're still accepting prompts, then I've got one for the Puppet AU:

Shadow, despite claiming he was indestructible, finally gets a tear in his fabric, and it's on the back of his shoulder, which he can't reach.

Sonic then offers to help him [You can decide how it goes].

Ever since Shadow had been brought into the studio, Sonic couldn't take his eyes off him.

Sometimes it got distracting. He was grateful that he didn't really have to do anything while a human was controlling him, so he could zone out and think about how pretty the other puppet was. Deep, rumbling voice, piercing red eyes, glossy, velvety fur...

Sonic was infatuated.

But then when the humans left and the puppets could finally be themselves, Shadow would vanish. Every time. Sonic would try to catch him after their show, but Shadow always separated himself from the group to disappear somewhere. Sonic found himself never quite being able to figure out where Shadow was going, and why he was so adamant about being alone.

On this day, however, the routine seemed to change.

When the last human left the studio for the weekend, the puppets rose to their feet as usual. Sonic praised Tails for his great performance in the Tornado before turning to watch Shadow leave, as he always did.

But he hadn't.

Shadow's lingering presence caught Sonic off-guard, but he didn't want to squander this opportunity to finally talk to him.

"Nice work today, Shads!" he called, waving a plush arm to catch the other's attention. He just hoped that Shadow wouldn't suddenly realise he hadn't left and get away before they could have a proper conversation.

Instead, Shadow folded his arms over his - woefully soft-looking - chest. "I don't need your approval. I know that I'm good at my job."

Despite himself, Sonic couldn't stop the dopey smile that stretched the cotton lining of his mouth. "I hear ya. Just wanted to extend an olive branch, so to speak."

"I'm not interested."

Sonic tried not to visibly deflate with disappointment. "Why not? If we're going to be working together, we may as well --"

"Not interested," Shadow reiterated harshly, and then he skulked out of the room to go… who knows where.

Sonic felt half-inclined to follow him, if only to sate his own curiosity. He glanced behind him; the others were busy stretching out their limbs and chatting amongst themselves to notice him slip away down the corridor.

The courtyard was Sonic's favourite place in the entire studio grounds. It was spacious, calm, and best of all, outside. He liked being outside. Except on rainy days when the rain would make his fabric smell like mildew and he'd be tossed into the dreaded washing machine.

For a while, he'd been unable to get to the courtyard outside of work hours; somehow a human had found the key that Sonic had swiped and relinquished it from him. 'Who left their key with the puppet?' the human had asked. The other humans shrugged their shoulders. Sonic tried his best to remain inanimate.

To see the door slightly ajar on this particular evening was a surprise. And it could only mean that Shadow had found a way outside, unbeknownst to everyone else. Had he also gotten a key? Was the courtyard where he was disappearing off to, after all this time?

Sonic had worried about rain, but the weather was clear and balmy. Crickets chirped in the grass. Streetlights cast a warm glow against the vermilion sunset. It was pleasant.

He looked around for a moment, soaking in the relaxing atmosphere, but he didn't notice Shadow immediately. That's when Sonic remembered a particular little corner tucked away just off to the side, where there was a swinging loveseat he liked to sit on sometimes. When he made his way over, he found Shadow sitting on that same loveseat, faced away from Sonic and fiddling with a box beside him.

"You come here often?" Sonic joked, and Shadow flinched, whipping around to glare at him.

"Why are you here?" Shadow growled.

"I like to come here sometimes," Sonic explained. Shadow seemed tense, his body moving in front of the box to obscure it from Sonic's view. "I used to come here a lot, but I lost the key…"

"Unsurprising," Shadow said, and then hesitated for a moment. "Did the humans take it?"

"Heh, yeah. I was never really good at hiding it. I tried hiding it in my head - y'know, the little space where they put their hand." Sonic tapped the little opening on the back of his head for emphasis. "But they found it pretty quickly. I was never able to get the key again after that."

He realised he was rambling and quickly shut his mouth. Shadow had his hand on his shoulder and a strange, disgruntled look on his face. Well, more disgruntled than usual.

"Hey, uh, is everything OK?" Sonic chanced, taking a step closer. Shadow bristled, the hand clasping down firmer as he leaned away slightly.

"I'm fine. If you've got nothing important to say, I'd like to be alone."

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"None of your business."

"What's that box next to you?" Ever stubborn, Sonic ignored Shadow's warnings and approached the loveseat, peering over the other puppet to inspect what he was trying to hide.

A sewing kit.

Shadow shot to his feet and pushed Sonic away harshly. Sonic stumbled, but the fence behind him caught his body before he could fall. He grasped his fingers into the chainlink, getting his bearings. Shadow looked mortified, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Don't misunderstand," he spoke, voice wobbling just a little. "I'm taking stock of my sewing supplies. That's all."

Sonic's eyes fell to the shoulder that Shadow continued to protect with his hand.

"Do you have a tear?"

Shadow tensed, his free hand curling into a fist. He bared his teeth at Sonic, a warning, but Sonic refused to leave. Not if Shadow was damaged. Not if he could help.

"The humans can't find out. My - my material is far too expensive to be damaged. I have to fix it before they come back."

"So, what's stopping you?"

Shadow faltered. He looked down at the grass, and then flopped back down onto the loveseat.

"I can't reach it."

Sonic blinked, stepping closer. When Shadow didn't try to push him away this time, Sonic sat next to him and softly urged him to remove his hand. The tear was small, almost unnoticeable - but it was on the back of Shadow's shoulder, an awkward spot that he definitely could not mend by himself.

Sonic offered an encouraging smile. "Well, it's a good thing you taught me how to sew, then, right?"

Shadow turned to stare at him and Sonic couldn't help but laugh at how incredulous he looked in that moment.

"You're messing with me."

"I'm not!" Sonic said through his laughter, reaching out to take Shadow's hand in his own before the other could leave. "I'm not, I promise. Do you want me to help?"

"I…" Shadow paused, as if considering the offer. He stared down at their connected hands. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not if you're adamant about the humans not finding out."

Shadow sighed. "Alright. Fine. There's some thread in the kit."

Sonic moved to Shadow's opposite side to rifle through the box, fishing out a spool of black thread (that Shadow specifically picked out; apparently the others weren't the correct shade, although he personally could not discern the difference) and threading it through a needle.

"Remember the stitch I taught you?"

"Yeah, don't worry." Sonic sat behind Shadow and gently poked at the tear in his fabric to make sure he got the right spot. "I'm gonna start. You ready?"

"You better not do a poor job," Shadow grumbled, but didn't move. "Let's get this over with."

Sonic wished Shadow would trust him a little more, but the puppet's pride had always been a big part of him, a part that Sonic found himself adoring, despite how snappy it made Shadow sometimes.

Sonic carefully pushed the needle into Shadow's fabric and pulled the thread through. Shadow didn't fidget or tell him to stop, so he kept going: again and again, in a steady rhythm, just as Shadow had taught him. Sonic weaved a zig-zag stitch along the seam, closing it up little by little. Shadow's stuffing had poked out, so he pushed it back in with his finger as he went.

He hadn't gotten much practice, and the stitching was just a bitwonky, but Sonic reckoned he'd done a good job. Besides, with how dark Shadow's fabric was, and how small the tear had been, the stitching was barely noticeable. He knotted the thread once, twice, and then snipped it free. With an "All done!" and an encouraging pat to Shadow's shoulder, Sonic returned the items back into the sewing kit.

Shadow moved his arm around to test Sonic's work, rotating his shoulder and stretching his hand towards the sky. Sonic peered back at the stitching to check, and to his delight (and personal pride) it hadn't budged at all. It looked pretty dang secure.

"I think I did a great job, if you don't mind me saying!"

"That remains to be seen." Shadow clicked the sewing kit shut and picked it up. "As long as the humans don't find out that I got damaged."

"Why are you so worried about that, anyway?" Sonic asked, following Shadow as he got up and began heading for the studio door. "We've all gotten ripped plenty of times, but the humans always take care of us."

"Of course you have," Shadow sneered, but his voice was weak, quiet. "I am made of high-quality materials. If the humans found out, they would surely be upset and flounder about as they figure out how to fix it. I was not made to be easily broken."

Sonic hummed thoughtfully as they stepped inside and Shadow locked the door behind them. "I don't doubt it, but you're a part of the family, y'know? They would want to look after you."

"…Thank you," Shadow said after a pensive moment. "For assisting me."

"Of course, Shads." The nickname came out softer than Sonic had intended.

"If you tell anyone I was damaged, I'll put you out of commission."

Despite the threat, Sonic found himself beaming. He'd long since learned that Shadow was all bark and no bite. Well, sometimes he bit. Those teeth were not to be messed with. Even so, Sonic nodded in agreement as they made their way back to the others.

Maybe Shadow needed a little more time to settle in, but he still had a place in the group. From the day he was lifted out of his box, he was welcomed with open arms, even if he didn't see it that way. Sonic made sure to remind Shadow as many times as it took that he was wanted. That he was loved.

And, well, since Shadow had trusted Sonic to help him with such a delicate problem, maybe Sonic's words had finally gotten through to him.

Sonic sure hoped so.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 5

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 5.9k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, drinking, sub!beomgyu, dom!reader, blowjob, edging, overstimulation, degradation, nipple play, cum eating, fingering (female receiving).

Haeun’s appearances increase along with the band’s gigs, inviting herself to all the afterparties and mingling with the new crowd Beomgyu curated.  

It's a cause of contest between you. You keep telling him that she's using him but he doesn’t care. He just wants her attention. Besides, every time you bring her up, he brings up Yeonjun and the whole thing just devolves into a fight, and so bit by bit you just learn to shut up and keep your distance–to protect yourself from the pain and to stop fighting with him. 

You’re once again at one of the band’s gigs, but this time you’re wearing Yeonjun’s merch. You’re here to cheer for him, not your asshole best friend, who by the way was so obviously drunk he keeps messing up, even to your woefully untrained ears. 

You can see him struggling and see the band shooting him dirty looks every time he messes up. You'd feel bad for him if he wasn't such an asshole. Actually, you still feel bad for him. You can't help it. You’re so worried about him that you can’t even enjoy the performance. Not that anyone can really when the vibe is so off with the whole band. 

And this isn’t a one-time thing even. It has happened a few times now. Beomgyu seems to be slipping. You blame Haeun. Ever since she came into his life, he became like this. 

As soon as the last song ends, Beomgyu storms off backstage. His band members awkwardly stay behind to say goodbye to the crowd but you can tell they’re fuming. 

You quickly go backstage, hoping to catch Beomgyu before the members do. For what? You don’t know exactly. You just know your best friend is in trouble and you want to help him. 

But unfortunately, the band makes it back before you do. You go there to find them already ripping into him. 

“For fuck’s sake man. If you wanna get drunk, by all means do it, but on your own time. We’re trying to get signed here. We can’t have you ruin it for us.” Soobin curses at Beomgyu.

“Oh, like you’ve never performed drunk or high before.” Beomgyu retorts, clearly defensive. 

“Yes, but we’ve never let it affect our performance.” Yeonjun interjects, and Beomgyu looks at him with such venom, you think he might lunge forward and punch him. “No, you let your shitty singing and botched notes do that for you.” 

“Oh, yeah? Is that what you’re gonna tell people after you’re kicked out of the band?”

That does it. Beomgyu lunges forward, but Taehyun was anticipating this and he grabs Beomgyu and holds him back. Luckily, he is much stronger than your scrawny best friend. “Hey, hey, let’s calm down.”

“What is he talking about?” Beomgyu demands, and the boys look at Soobin. 

“It won’t come to that.” Soobin tries to calm him down but Beomgyu will not have it. “Won’t come to what? Are you thinking of kicking me out?” 

“No. No, we won’t because you are going to get your shit together and clean your act up.” Soobin deadpans, “Right?” 

Though Soobin was trying his best to reassure Beomgyu, there was also a clear threat there, and Beomgyu shoves Taehyun off him. 

“Right.” He says darkly, grabbing his guitar and walking out. 

You try to run after him but Yeonjun grabs your arm to stop you. “Let him go. He’s an idiot.” 

But you shake your head. “I can’t. He’s my best friend. I have to be there for him.” 

He sighs in disappointment, letting you go, and you run to the parking lot, wondering if you’ve missed him and Beomgyu had taken a taxi home already. But thankfully, you find him standing in front of one, just… waiting? 

When he sees you, he gets into the car and leaves the door open, obviously waiting for you to get in so you do, closing the door behind you before the driver pulls off. 

“I thought you might’ve left.” You say awkwardly. 

“I was waiting for you.” 

Yeah, you definitely did the right thing. If Beomgyu had waited and you didn’t come, you know he would’ve been super pissed, probably thinking that you chose Yeonjun over him. 

You don’t say anything else for the whole drive home. You didn’t want to get into it in front of a stranger so you wait until you’re back inside your apartment to speak up. 

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this,” You start nervously once you’re back home, “But you really need to focus. You can't risk your future like this."

"Like you fucking care. It's all because of you." He accuses you and you reel back in shock.  "What?" 

"Why did you have to fuck my friend?"

"Oh my god, I can't listen to this again." Your hands fly to your head, already feeling a headache coming because of this tired point. What does this even have to do with him getting drunk and ruining the band’s performances?

But Beomgyu doubles down on his stupid point. “Well, you’re going to have to because your boyfriend wants to kick me out of the band.” 

“You are crazy! This has nothing to do with me and Yeonjun.” You shout, exasperated, “They will kick you out because you’re going on stage drunk and playing like shit.” 

“Wow, thanks for the support.” Beomgyu snorts, looking hurt, but you won’t let him get away with guilt-tripping you for his questionable behavior. “No. You won’t do that. You won’t make me feel bad for calling you out on your shit. What the hell are you even doing? You’re jeopardizing your whole career by acting like a goddamn idiot. What has gotten into you?” 

He looks down, not answering you.

“You weren’t like this. Not before she came along.” You mutter and his head snaps up to look at you. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Fuck, why did you even bring it up? Now you’ll get into an even bigger fight. “It means that maybe she is a bad influence on you, with all the parties and the drinking and shit.” 

“That’s fucking rich coming from the girlfriend of the party animal himself.” And there it is. 

“Why are you so fucking obsessed with Yeonjun? I thought he was your friend.” 

“He is not my friend anymore. Not after what he did.” Beomgyu speaks as if Yeonjun has stabbed him in the back when he may have given him a warning before it’s too late. If he hadn’t said anything, Beomgyu wouldn’t know the band is even considering kicking him out. 

“You’re bringing it on yourself. If you would just not drink on the fucking job then your career wouldn’t be at risk right now.” 

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.”

“I am not taking anyone’s side.”

“Well, you should!” He screams, clearly getting emotional. “You’re my best friend. You should be on my side! They’re fucking threatening to take my dream away and all you can think about is defending your boyfriend.” 

“I am being your best friend! A real best friend calls you out when you’re making a mistake before it’s too late.” You try to clarify, “Beomgyu, I don’t know why you’re doing this but I don’t want you to ruin this for yourself.” 

“I’m just stressed out.” He says slowly, “Which you would know if you had bothered being a friend and asked.” 

Now maybe you shouldn’t get into it now, but you can’t help being peeved by what he said, and you just blurt out, “It’s hard to ask when you’re so busy getting your face sucked off by her.” 

He’s been hanging out with her so often that you hardly even see him anymore. How the hell are you supposed to know what he’s feeling if you don’t even see him? 

But of course, Beomgyu takes it in another direction, the direction where his dick is doing all the talking. 

“Aw, are you jealous, baby?” He goads, getting all up in your face. “You miss kissing me?”

“Jealous?” You laugh forcefully, the jealousy indeed burning through you and firing you up. “Yeah right, I can have you begging for me any time I want to.”

“Oh, please." He scoffs, his denial irritating you. 

"It's not like I haven't done it before. All I have to do is give your cock a couple of pumps and you'd be whining like a bitch."

His breathing hitches for a second before he counters back. "I was just humoring you. It didn’t even feel that good."

Oh, hell no. The only thing you managed to have with Beomgyu is getting him to need your touch the same way you need his love, and you'll be damned if you let anyone take that from you, even Beomgyu. 

You curse him out under your breath as you charge forward and push him against the wall, crashing your lips together. 

And for someone who just basically claimed to not want you, he sure as hell is eager to reciprocate… damn it, this was bait, wasn't it? That whore. 

Oh, well, now that you started, you can't get yourself to stop now. You've fucking missed the feeling of him pressed needily against you and the all the little noises he makes when he's turned on. You need to have him again. You need him to admit he's addicted to your touch. You need to hear him beg. 

And it doesn't look like it's gonna be hard when the first thing out of his mouth as soon as you part is, "Touch me." 

“You’re so fucking needy.” You mutter, hand trailing up his thigh slowly, intentionally teasing him. “I thought your girlfriend lets you fuck her everyday.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He says, shocking you, and against reason, that makes you happy. “We just mess around.” 

"Sad." You say with faux sympathy, finally grabbing his cock, making his breathing waver. "What about you? Is he your boyfriend?"

Maybe you shouldn’t be having his discussion with your hand cupping his dick. You don’t know if you should tell him the truth, but he did so you should too, right?

"He's not my boyfriend. We just mess around." 

“What… what do you do with him?” He asks slowly, “Do you let him touch you?” 

“Yes.” You admit, watching his reaction closely. You know he’s asking it because you never let him touch you, and if you wanna annoy him, you’d tell him the truth. Which you do. "I let him touch me. I let him eat me out too." 

His face changes just like you hoped it would. "Slut.".

You laugh, hooking your finger into the chain link on the collar he’s wearing and tugging on it a little. "I'm the slut? Not you who is practically begging for me to touch your cock when you’re already getting off with another woman?"

"Whatever. I don’t want whatever STDs you caught from Yeonjun anyway." He tries to walk away but you shove him back against the wall, your body pressed tightly against his. "Really? You don’t want this?"

"No.” He tenses, but his body betrays him, leaning into you. 

“Oh, really? So you don’t want me to pull your pants down and jerk you off just the way you like?” You pull tighter on his collar while feeling the exact imprint of his hardening cock through his pants. 

“No.” He gulps, uncertainty clear in the way his voice wavers. 

“Hmm, and if I were to offer to take you into my mouth, you would say no to that?” You brush your lips against his as your thumb swipes across the head of his cock. “You’d say no to my hot, wet mouth around your needy, pathetic cock?” 

“Shit.” He shudders, his breathing getting ragged and his eyes getting hazy–tell-tale signs that he’s a goner. 

“What is it, baby? Want me to let go?” You feel wetness gather under your thumb, soaking through his pants. Is he not wearing any underwear? Fuck.

“No, fuck. Want it. Want your mouth.” He finally admits, his eyes fixed on your mouth. 

“Okay.” You swipe your tongue over your lips, teasing him. "But first, admit you're the slut."

He blinks, a moment of clarity shining in his eyes. "No."

“No?” You laugh, bringing your hand to your face and licking it before you slide it under his pants, taking a hold of his cock and giving it a firm stroke, feeling his knees buckle for a second. 

“You don’t want my pretty mouth wrapped around your dick?” Your face is so close to his, lips brushing against his every once in a while but every time he tries to close the gap and kiss you, you pull him back by the collar away. “No. Bad dog. If you want it, you have to play nice.” 

“Shit…Okay. You win. I want it.” He confesses, but you don’t give in as easily as he does. “Say it. Tell me what you are.” 

“I’m a slut.” He whimpers and you smile, squeezing his cock as a reward. “That’s right, Beommie. You’re a slut who goes all dumb over the promise of a warm mouth. Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes. Please. I really want it.” He begs, hips timidly thrusting forward. “I need it. I need you.” 

Okay, it doesn’t matter what went on before this. Just hearing him say those three words, that he needs you, is enough for you to get on your knees. “See? I told you I’d get you to beg.” 

But Beomgyu doesn’t care, only focusing on one thing which is you pulling his pants down,  letting his cock spring up before grabbing it in your hands and bending forward to give it a few licks–getting it wet just like Yeonjun showed you. 

But it’s not hard to get Beomgyu wet when he’s already dripping precum for you. Fuck, even his body is slutty.  

“There you go. Now that wasn’t so hard.” You tease, brushing your lips back and forth over the head of his cock. 

"Please, put it in your mouth." He chokes, bucking up into your hand. “I want it! I really want it. Please!” 

You open your mouth, only taking the tip, not just to tease him but get yourself ready for more. But the virgin doesn’t have the self-restraint of Yeonjun, and his hips shoot forward, gagging you on his cock. 

You immediately pull back, glaring up at him. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want to go back to your room and fuck your cum into my panties like you’ve been doing before?” 

His eyes widen and he shakes his head vigorously. “No. No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Keep your hips still or I’ll stop.” You hiss, and he nods pitifully. “Yes, baby.” 

There he goes again, calling you baby as if you were his lover. Though you guess he calls Haeun the same and she’s not his lover either. 

You take him in your mouth again, this time daring to take more of him, knowing whatever you do, he’ll like it anyway. And he does. You can see his nails scraping against the wall behind him as he struggles to keep his body still. “Oh, thank you. Fuck, thank you.” 

He’s such a loser. You love it so much. 

Spurred on by his pathetic display, you make yourself go further and further down his cock, your tongue swiping back and forth on the sensitive underside, getting him so worked up. And he doesn’t even try to hide it. 

"Fuck, so good. You’re so perfect.” He gushes, staring at you taking his cock. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth."

"Do I?" You pull back to answer before taking him in your mouth but this time, you don’t move, just letting the weight of him rest on your tongue.

"Fuck, don't do this to me. Please move." He whimpers, but doesn’t dare to move you. You keep still, but swallow around him, making his thighs go rigid with the effort to not thrust forward and fuck your face. “Fuck…fuck… you’re gonna kill me.” 

You smile, humming around him happily, making him go delirious. “God, I wanna take a picture of you like that." 

“Pervert.” You glare at him, finally pulling back. "Does she let you do that?"

He shrugs, making you more angry. What the hell does that mean? Is that a yes or a no? Is his phone just full of pictures of Haeun with his dick in her mouth?

“Is that what she does?” You prod, grabbing his cock a little too tightly, punishingly. "Or is she too good to suck your dick?"

"Yeah, she does.” He scoffs, puffing his chest out. “She always sucks me off after the shows." 

Is that where they disappear to? Why did you even ask? Why do you have to hurt yourself this way?

"And I guess she didn't get the chance to today." You mutter, hoping he doesn’t hear the bitterness in your voice. 

"Uh-huh. Doesn't matter. I wanted to try your mouth anyway." He confirms, so casually crushing you while making you feel like nothing but a fucktoy in the same breath.

"Fucking whore." You scowl, pulling back and watching him bucking in the air, seeking the warmth of your mouth again. Are you just a mouth for him? A pair of warm hands? The girl who’ll get him off even if he treats her like a toy? 

"I know I'm a whore but please. I need it." 

There it is again. 

You know you should just get up and leave him all high and dry, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you like that, long hair all tousled and lips inexplicably bitten raw despite the fact that he has made no effort to hide his noises so far, moaning and gasping and whimpering so loud you’re sure the neighbors think he’s a camboy or something. 

“Yeah? You need me?” You prompt and he nods harshly. “Yes, need you so bad. You don’t even know.”

You suppose you can’t blame him for treating you like a toy when just a little cry and whine is enough to get you to give in to him. 

"Are you going to be a good boy?" You taunt as if you had any real power over him. Still, Beomgyu reacts as if you do, nodding again. "I'll be good, I swear." 

“Lift your shirt up.” You order, and he obeys, pulling his mesh shirt up. 

God, he’s becoming as much of a flirt as Yeonjun, wearing these revealing outfits on stage and teasing the fans with winks and lip bites. You’re sure he’s collecting his own groupies now too, and soon it won’t just be Haeun you’re competing with. 

Suddenly, you’re filled with the urge to punish him. 

“Higher.” You tell him, instructing him to lift his shirt up until his pretty nipples are in view before reaching out to play with them. “Good boy.” 

The effect on Beomgyu is instant, his hips shooting forward, his cock seeking some relief which you don’t give him for a while, choosing instead to watch him squirm as you thumb and pull at his nipples until they turn puffy and red. 

“Fuck, please…” He cries, cock weeping in need. 

“You’re so sensitive, Beommie.” You lick up some of the precum dribbling down his cock, just light touches that drive him even more insane, teasing him until he’s almost crying. 

You know you shouldn't compare. Yeonjun has a lot of experience while Beomgyu is a horny virgin but you thrive off how enthusiastic and needy he gets whenever you touch him, like he would die if you stop. 

“Please, please, please…” He keeps repeating, holding his shirt up to expose himself to you like a slut as he pleads with you to put your mouth on him and end his suffering. “I need you. Please.” 

You finally wrap your lips around him once he says the magic words, bopping your head up and down his length, relishing in the taste and feeling of him on your tongue so much that you don’t notice at first that he’s trying to get away after only a few bops of your head.

“Stop. Stop!” He squeals, his hands flying to grab at your hair, finally catching your attention. 

“What is it?” You ask, worried. Did you do something wrong?

“Was gonna cum.” He gasps as if that explained anything. 

“So? You can cum in my mouth.” You offer, thinking maybe he wanted to give you a warning. But of course that’s not what the horny bastard is worried about. 

“Oh.” His cock twitches, and you swear he almost came right there. “But… I don’t wanna cum yet. Don’t want it to stop.” 

Immediately, you pull back, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the wall. “You don’t get to ask for things. You just stand there and keep your hands to yourself and take whatever I give you. Understood?” You hiss, and he tries to argue, “But baby–”  

You ignore him, grabbing his cock and jerking him off. “Shut up, Beomgyu. I don’t want to hear anything from you except those slutty moans you love to make.”

Even that turns him on, and he squirms under you.  “No. No, please, too fast. Don't want it to stop." He cries deliriously and you laugh evilly. 

“Don’t you wanna cum in my mouth, baby? I’ll open wide.” You smirk before letting your mouth fall open and sticking your tongue out, mimicking what you know is one of his favorite parts of porn videos as you had seen on his non-so-secret nsfw twitter account all too often. 

And just as expected, the pervert loses it with a loud broken cry, spurting his cum all over your tongue and parts of your face. 

You pull your tongue back with a grin, and he watches in rapt attention, waiting for you to swallow it just the way he likes. But you don’t. Instead you spit it back on his cock, grabbing the sensitive member in your hand and jerking it off quickly and cruelly. 

"What are you doing?" He panics, writhing harder in your hold. 

"You said you wanted more." You act innocent, but your hands are all but, twisting around him just like you learned from Yeonjun.

“Not this!” He squeaks, trying to pull away. "Hurts!"

“Suck it up. You said you’ll be a good boy. Are you going to disappoint me?” 

You didn’t expect that to work but it did. He bites down on his lip, swallowing down most of his pained cries, his hands pulling so hard on his shirt, it tears, but he doesn’t once try to push you away. 

He takes it so well, you actually start feeling bad for him and rethinking your punishment. But when you try to pull away, he lets out a loud sob. “No. Please! Need it. Need it, baby."

“But I thought you wanted me to stop?” You ask, confused, and he shakes his head, sparkling tears falling off his eyelashes. 

“Is it feeling good again? You coo, massaging his tense thigh with your free hand. 

“Uh-huh. So good.” His mouth was almost permanently hung open now, a little bit of drool dribbling out. “You’re so pretty.” 

Even though he’s all dumbed out and you’re sure he doesn’t even know what he’s saying right now, it still makes your heart flutter. He thinks you’re pretty. 

But then an ugly thought comes into your mind. Is he like this with her? Is he just as loud and desperate? Will he just say anything to get what he wants? You haven’t heard him be like this the tortuous couple of times you have had to endure listening to them, but maybe he is the one in charge when he’s with her. Maybe he has her to fuck and has you to fuck him, so he’d be getting the best of both worlds. You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that’s why he keeps pushing for more from you even when he has her. 

“I’m–I’m there, b-baby.” He stutters out, his hips moving a bit, but you don’t punish him for it because you don’t think he’s even aware of it. Besides, you don’t feel up for this anymore. 

“Cum for me, Beommie.” You order, taking him in your mouth, and it doesn’t take long for the wet heat of it to have him cumming again. You take it in your mouth like last time, not swallowing it. 

Instead, you get up, grabbing him by the jaw and kissing him, forcing him to take his own cum. But Beomgyu doesn’t even flinch, kissing you back hungrily, letting you push your tongue into his mouth as he sucks on it needily. 

When you finally pull back, you see the mess you’ve made of him–panting heavily, his lips swollen and red, coated with your saliva and his own cum, some of it smeared along his chin. 

But he doesn’t care, smiling at you.  “Fuck, that was hot.” 

You frown at that. You don’t know what you expected him to say. That you sucked him off so good, he now realizes you’re the one for him? That he’ll ditch Haeun and be with you only? You’re a disaster. 

“Get cleaned up and go to bed.” You tell him, heading towards the kitchen, suddenly in desperate need for some water to clear your mouth. God, what are you even doing? 

But Beomgyu isn’t done with you, and he follows after you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck. “Beomgyu…” You warn. You can’t deal with this right now. You’re too fragile. 

“Please…” He begs sweetly, knowing the way to your heart. His hands slither up your waist to cup your breasts, his fingers ghosting over your nipples causing a burning white sensation to shoot down between your legs. 

“Just let me take care of you for once.” He pleads, pulling lightly on your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, fanning the fire brewing in your belly. 

You can let him just one time right? You’d be getting yourself off in bed dreaming of his touch anyway so why can’t you let him help you rub one out just this once? That way you can head straight to sleep and let your tired bones rest so you wouldn’t have to think about what you just did, so you’d get one night’s relief from the crushing feeling of your unreciprocated love.  

“You can’t take my clothes off.” You finally relent. Yes, you’re out of your mind but you’re still deeply insecure and worried what he’ll think. 

“Just the shirt.” He growls, pulling on it. “Want it off.” 

You’re confused for a second by his aggression before you realize you’re wearing Yeonjun’s merch. 

“No. The shirt stays on.” You insist, partly due to your insecurity and partly to annoy him.

He’s not happy about it. You can tell by the way he bites down on the junction between your neck and your shoulder, but honestly that just turns you on more. 

One of his hands leaves your breasts to go down your body, shimmying under your waistband to reach your pussy.

“Fuck…” He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how wet you are. He immediately starts rubbing your pussy, not attempting to tease at all. “You’re so wet.”

You freeze. Is that good? Is it bad? Does he think you’re too wet? 

“So sexy. Driving me crazy.” He groans, sucking on your sensitive neck and rolling your nipple between his fingers, dispelling your ridiculous doubts. You spread your legs a little, giving his fingers easier access to your pussy, and his long fingers rub along the entire length of your slit, not leaving one part untouched, overwhelming your poor body, all while his mouth never ceases to kiss and such along your neck. “Yes, baby, just like that, spread those legs for me. Let me make your pussy feel good.” 

Fuck, he’s so lewd, it’s so sexy. You don’t even care that he’s probably leaving so many hickies along your neck that in the morning you’ll look like you’ve been ravaged by a wild animal. All you care about right now is his relentless attack on your body. 

His words and touches have made your brain go fuzzy that you let him unbutton your pants, shoving them down your thighs so he can squeeze two fingers inside you at once. 

“Oh god, you’re so tight. So soft. You’re perfect.” He moans as if he’s the one getting pleasure. You don’t know who is more desperate here, you or him. His words feel almost as pleasurable as his hands. You've never imagined Beomgyu saying this to you. You were always so insecure of what he'll think. You were worried about him even touching you. If you knew this is how he would react, maybe you would’ve let him do it sooner. 

Or maybe not. You don’t know what this will do to your heart once your pussy gets its fill. But it’s hard to think about that when he’s panting against your neck. “Fuck, fuck… You like it, baby? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, Beommie. You’re such…such a good boy.” You praise, and he keens, one of his hands returning to your breasts. "Can I see your tits? Wanna see your pretty tits." 

Fuck it, you’ll give him what he wants at this point. You just really need him to make you cum. 

“Okay…” You relent, and as soon as the word is out of your mouth, he’s pulling the shirt up over your breasts to expose them. 

“So pretty.” He whines, wetting his fingers before returning them back to your nipple, rubbing the poor sensitive thing until you can’t hold your own body weight anymore. You lean against him, the wet sound of his fingers fucking your pussy open reaching your ears, but you feel too good to let the embarrassment or security in right now. 

“God, I wanna fuck these.” Beomgyu grunts, pulling at your other nipple, his hips grinding against your ass as if he’s imagining doing just that. “Can I, baby?” 

"No. Be good." You warn. You’ll go crazy if he stops. “I’m close. Don’t ruin it now.” 

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t.” He lets go of your abused nipples and grabs you by the hair, turning your head towards him so he can kiss you. “Need you to cum on my fingers, baby. I need it more than anything. Please. Will you cum for me?” 

“Y-yeah… I’ll cum for you..” You say as if you had any choice in the matter, as if your body would’ve let you retain any dignity. 

You break down on his fingers, clenching around them as the orgasm shoots through you in little pants and needy mewls which Beomgyu hungrily devours with his mouth. 

“You’re so hot.” He heaves against your lips, kissing you again and again long after your orgasm is over. 

“Beomgyu–” You start to say, the brain fog clearing up. 

“I need more.” He moans, the words jolting through your brain as it’s waking up. 

What? 

You feel his hands messing around with your pants, trying to take them off your body completely, and when he drops to the floor to pull them off your leg, you quickly stop him. 

“What are you doing?” You exclaim, grabbing onto your pants and trying to pull them back up. But Beomgyu holds onto them tightly.  

“Please, want to taste you.” He begs, clearly still in the throes of lust. 

“No.” You hiss, and he whines. “Why not? I’ve become really good at it. Had lots of practice.” 

God, you feel sick. 

“No!” You push him away and he falls on his ass. 

“What? So he can eat you out and I can’t? You can suck me off but I can’t taste you?” He asks angrily and you roll your eyes. “Yes. That’s exactly it."

As if his horny brain could ever understand how all of this makes you feel. All he cares about is that Yeonjun got something and he didn’t, like you’re a piece of candy Yeonjun swiped from him. 

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” He huffs, getting up. “Why won’t you let me taste you?” 

“I don’t need to let you do anything.” You shout at him, putting your pants back on, hoping that would lessen the humiliation coursing through your veins. “I don’t owe you anything and you need to get that through your fucking head. But it’s my mistake because I keep letting this happen. This has got to stop.” 

"Why? I like it and you like it too." He looks at you for confirmation and you look away, but Beomgyu is not deterred, grabbing you by the shoulders. "Come on, I know you feel it too. It's different when we're together. I know it is for me. It doesn't feel like that with Haeun. Does it feel like this with Yeonjun?"

“What feels different?” You confront him, daring to ask the forbidden question. “What is this?”

He frowns, stumbling back and taking his hands off you as if you’d burned him. “Sex?” 

Right. Typical guy behavior when faced with the remotest possibility of intimacy. 

You laugh sadly. “Beomgyu, are you with Haeun or not?” You have to know. You have to know what he’s even doing. Are both you and Haeun just a way for him to get his dick wet? 

"Do you not want me to be?” He answers your question with another question, catching you off guard. 

“N-no–you can do whatever you want. Why would I care?” You immediately deny, fear and anxiety gripping your heart. You can’t let him know how you feel, especially not after he just basically confirmed he’s just here for the sex. 

He’s silent for a few moments, just staring at you as if he can see through your lies. God, please no. You can’t handle the shame of it. 

But he just shrugs. “Well, if you don’t care then what’s the problem, right? Me and Haeun aren’t exclusive so you and I can keep doing this.”  

His words make you feel disgusted. That’s all he thinks of this, that’s all he thinks of you–just some fun to be had so he can get his rocks off 

“I don’t think so.” You finally say and he frowns. “Why not? I thought you said Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend.” 

"He’s not.” 

He smiles widely, moving to grab you again but you stop him. "But I want him to be. I want to try it seriously with him." 

“Why? What do you even like about him?” He asks, irritated. 

“He’s sweet–” Beomgyu rolls his eyes, preparing to protest but you keep going, not giving him a chance. “He cares about me. He’s charming. He’s talented. He’s funny.” 

“So? I’m all of those things.” 

Yes, you are. And much more. But you don’t love me the way I love you. 

“So I want a boyfriend, Beomgyu, not a fuckbuddy.” 

“Right.” He scoffs, “Good luck getting that from Yeonjun.” 

With that, he turns around and leaves you feeling sick in your own skin. 

___________________

A/N: feedback gives me the motivation and energy to write more so if you want the next chapter as quickly as possible, drop in a message or a comment telling me what you think 😘

As some of you know, this might've been the last gyu smut scene, but if I were to include another one, would you rather it be sub!gyu or dom!gyu?

i can't include another poll so i'll skip the "who do you want oc to end up with" this time, but you can let me know anyway

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