#that phrase sinks into my soul

[romeowho]

they had Gus say I can fix that in Santa Barbarian Candidate, and I can't forgive them for that

[yuulettte]

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥

[𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐎𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲]

"In a world where I could lose you at any moment, I want to make tonight count. So please, give all of yourself to me. For I love you purely. My mind, my body, my soul. All of it belongs to you."

✰Rating: NSFW 18+ MDNI

✰Summary: It's Valentines Day, and your long term boyfriend Yuta Okkotsu would like to take you out on the best date of your life. Just what sort of surprises could he have in store for you?

✰W/C: 5.2k

✰C/W: Oral(Fem! Receiving), Hotel Sex, Teasing, Flower Language, Marriage Proposal, Mostly fluff with a small bit of smut + hurt/comfort at the end

✰A/N: Happy Valentines Day!!! Yuta is aged up to be in his early to mid 20's, sometime after High School. Now do enjoy Yuta being an absolute love sick fool of a boyfriend. Read the 'extra notes' at the end for flower meanings.

"That was so good~" you sighed, sinking into the passenger seat of the car your boyfriend had rented for the night.

In pure honesty, you didn't even know he could drive until earlier that evening. When he'd covered your eyes with both of his hands, your ears tingling at the sounds of his tiny giggles as he led you outside your shared apartment.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

The phrase was said in the same gentle voice that you'd fallen for all those years ago when you were still a teenager. That same soft tone.

Your now unobstructed gaze fell onto him holding a bouquet of Red Tulips laced with Baby's Breath, a keychain dangling from his fingers. He handed the flowers to you sheepishly. Even after all this time of being together, Yuta's humble attitude never seemed to wane. He could buy you the world and still make a face that pleads, 'You deserve more'.

"I thought these would be more to your liking than red roses," he started to speak, reaching a delicate finger to trace along the petals of one of the vibrant flowers. "They have a similar meaning though." Tired eyes closed as a smile came to his features. Cheeks still dusted pink, he went to cup yours in his free hand. He'd done his research early into your relationship. What you liked, what you loved; even learning flower language for occasions like this. He spared no expense when it came to gifting you.

"They're perfect" came your response in the form of a hum, head tilting down to breathe in the pleasing aroma of the flowers. Only when you raised your face did you see the car parked behind him.

You had mentioned it about six months ago, how you'd love to go on long drives with him instead of using public transport.

"Sure, it's convenient enough.." You mumbled while you washed that night's dishes. "But imagine all the fun we could have if one of us owned a car! We could go out whenever we want, wherever we want. Like to the ocean!"

It was well known amongst all of your peers that you were rather spontaneous. Always groaning at the fact you had to ask permission before leaving campus. Even now that you were far more mature and grown, you still had that streak in you. Yuta, of course, adored it. Something that had intimidated him during your friendship had become refreshing as the years rolled by. Nothing was ever boring with you.

He followed the trail of your eyes behind him to the fancy looking vehicle. His hand went to the back of his neck as you squealed.

"You remembered!!!" Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. Possibly from how wide you were smiling, or maybe it was excitement. But either way, your reaction was all the man needed to know he'd done his job.

"It's rented, but I figured it'd be fun?" He cocked his head to the side and you stood on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek. "It will be so. Fun." You emphasized your words with an exaggerated pause, and like the gentleman that he is, Yuta opened the passenger door for you to slide into the car.

The ride to your favorite restaurant was relaxing. Your fingers tapped at your phone screen to connect to the car’s bluetooth. Familiar music filled the small space as Yuta drove smoothly, causing you to smirk.

“How long have you even had your license for?” The question was playful but your boyfriend took it seriously, blinking a few times to think before replying.

“I got it right after my 18th birthday, Gojo said it would be useful in case I have more missions overseas.” He said while tapping his index finger on the steering wheel to the beat of one of the both of your favorite songs. “He actually gifted me a car that year too, but I returned it. How was I supposed to accept a present like that?”

The two of you laughed together at your teacher’s shenanigans. Though at times you wished Yuta to be a bit more selfish, you couldn’t deny this part of him was charming. You could vividly imagine him panicking at such an expensive gift, waving his hands and stuttering just like he would when you’d first met. The memory made warmth fill your chest as you watched him from your spot in the passenger seat.

During your first few months of knowing Yuta, the last thing you would’ve expected was for him to end up as your boyfriend of 5 years. He was timid and jumpy, but showed so much will to survive that it made you feel a bit overwhelmed. Maybe it’d started back then. The feeling in your stomach that slowly grew with time and eventually made its way to your heart. It was difficult to pinpoint when you’d fallen in love with him, but he spoke of it like it was the most grand realization.

“I woke up after Ieiri-san healed me from a difficult mission, and you were asleep sitting up, face down on the clinic bed by my legs.” He’d explained after confessing to you.

“I knew the moment you opened your eyes that I was in love with you.” He spoke that sentence without a single stutter. “I’ve.. probably felt this way for a long time before that though.” He smiled oh so gently, and then you knew you were a goner. Instantaneously, you felt yourself melt, and since that moment you’ve been his. In mind, body, and soul you became Yuta’s. Even the slightest touch now lingered, every breath he took became precious, and whatever words left his lips gained meaning. That sort of unbreakable connection; the bond that kept you up at night with both worry and excitement, made even the most hellish of missions bearable.

Because he’d be waiting for you afterwards.

The sound of his voice brought you back from your reminiscing, a smooth and clear chime you’d never grow tired of.

“We’re here, leave the flowers in the back and I’ll help you out.” With a click he pulled the keys from the ignition and got up from the front seat to open your door again for you. Hooking your arm in his, you laid your head on his shoulder for a moment. The familiar scent of his cologne on his shirt’s collar caused your skin to tingle as you walked arm in arm into the restaurant.

Once the two of you were seated you ran your hand across the velvety surface of the table cloth. Taking a moment to look down at the promise ring that decorated your left ring finger. Yuta’s gaze followed and a small smile came to his lips.

“I’ll give you an even better one someday soon, promise.” He mused before bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss upon your fingers.

“Womanizer~” You chided, earning a pout from him until you both started to giggle.

Your dinner was spent chatting about mundane things, mixed in with laughter and gazes that stuck for a bit too long. Yuta’s eyes always looked a tad tired. Even if you’d make him go to bed early, or bribe him into taking a nap with you, the dark circles that lined his lower lashes never diminished. Dark blue irises that occasionally almost showed black peered up at you while you ate your dish. Taking note of every tiny reaction with a sense of gratitude. How lucky he was to share moments like these with you. How blessed he was to be the man who had the honor of pampering you.

Teasing your boyfriend has been one of your favorite pastimes since high school. While thoughts of adoration and admiration filled his mind, yours was clouded with ideas on how to get him going during your dinner date. It was only fair. After all, your love was mutual. If he made your heart beat so fast with one upwards glance, then it was only right for you to give him the same treatment.

As the hour passed it was now time for dessert. Yuta wasn’t picky with food as long as it had a pleasing texture. Only learning to cook after the two of you moved in together so he could make your favorite meals. However you’d gotten him to take a liking to sweets by baking for him so often. He swears he’d have gained weight if it wasn’t for how physically demanding his work is.

So when the chocolate cake you ordered arrived, there were two slices instead of the usual one. Your eyes light up, because this was your shot. Full karmic payback.

Once the plates were set in front of the both of you, and Yuta had lifted his fork to take his first bite, you suddenly pulled the dish away with an innocent smile.

“I let you plan today completely on your own, so it’s my turn to spoil you a little in return.” You said sweetly, knowing there was no way he’d refuse. Yuta merely looked around the restaurant with a flushed face.

“Do you mean-” Cutting off his words, you lifted a forkful of cake up in front of his face and gestured for him to open his mouth.

“Just once? Please please please?” You dragged your words out to plead to him, his shoulders straightening at the sound of your voice before he let out a long sigh.

“Fine.. Just once” As he opened his mouth, you rejoiced in silent victory. His eyes closed, not having the gall to look at you during such an embarrassing exchange. It’d have been fine if you asked him to feed you, but this was.. Something he was not used to.

Sliding the dessert into his mouth you pulled the fork from his lips, watching intently as he chewed awkwardly. Satisfied with your payback, you licked the rest of the frosting from the back of the fork. The unintentionally erotic action earning an audible gulp from Yuta before you handed the utensil back to him.

He coughs a few times and reaches for his napkin, wiping the corners of his lips to get rid of the leftover chocolate. “Wasn’t so bad was it?” You said with a tilt of your head and a close eyed smile.

Now back in the car with your arms stretched upwards after humming your praise to the chef, you looked over to Yuta who adjusted his seatbelt a few times before checking yours as well.

“You don’t have to check me, you know” You sighed as he tugged at the belt, giving a satisfied hum after ensuring your safety. “I heard Utahime-Sensei say that improper car etiquette is just as dangerous as curses once though.” He mumbled through knitted brows. “I’m sure she just made that up..” And with that you began your drive home, or so you assumed.

After going past your apartment complex, you raised your eyebrows.

“Yuta, you missed our turn,” You began to say before he turned his head. Deep sea colored eyes that threatened to sink you met your own as he gave you a smile. “I know, just trust me” He spoke softly, reaching his right hand to grip your knee reassuringly.

And with a nod, you did. Watching as the city lights faded into the background of stars, Yuta rolled the windows down to let in the fresh nighttime air. You breathed in deeply and a familiar scent tickled your nose.

“The ocean..!” Your voice rose from the comfortable silence, eyes wide as you turned to stick your head out the window. And there it was, moonlight dancing off the top of the waves. “You seriously..” Swinging your head back around to look at him smiling stupidly, all you could do was laugh as you fully realized just how much this man loves you.

Your toes sunk into the cold sand after you tossed your dress shoes off to the side, your legs moving quickly to carry you to where the water kissed the land. Yuta followed after you, throwing his jacket onto the hood of the car to join you in dipping your toes into the cold winter water.

“It’s freezing!” You shivered and he laughed in response. “Of course it is, it’s February.”

Taking your hand in his, he walked with you along the shoreline. Thanking whatever God that’s out there for the weather being clear. The sea breeze blew his usually well kept raven hair to the side, offering a view you often only saw in the mornings. He was stunning.

Your body couldn’t seem to contain your affection, twisting to suddenly throw your arms over his shoulders and press your face into the side of his neck. “Thank you..” You mumbled the tiny phrase against his skin as he brought his hand to the small of your back.

“Anything for you.. If it was possible I’d find a way to gift you the sea” He spoke into your hair, breathing you in before reluctantly setting you down. “But there is something else I want to give you.”

He moved behind you, turning you to brush your hair away from your face, gently taking a swathe from both sides of your head. “I have more for you at home but I wanted to give this to you here..” Yuta clipped the two strands of your hair behind your head with a white bow, the sheer fabric decorated with pearls and lace.

“It fits you perfectly,” He hummed, pulling the dainty ribbon up by the end so you could see it from the corner of your eye. You weren’t able to speak. The red on your face must’ve been visible even in the moonlit lighting, because Yuta let out a chuckle while he ran his fingers through your hair.

The sound of his laughter sent electricity through you, forcing you to spin on your heel to face him. Your fists balled and you took a large breath in before shouting.

“Marry me!”

Shoulders raised to their highest point, gaze pinned directly onto him, you repeated your question that came out more as a demand.

“I don’t have a ring yet, and I know I’m not the one who is supposed to ask but..” Your eyes started to overflow, mimicking the movement of the seawater. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Yuta, please marry me!”

All he could do was open and close his mouth a few times. Eyes wide and watery just like yours. And then he reached into his pocket to pull out a small box.

“You beat me to it..” He laughed out through his tears. Opening the tiny box in his hand to reveal an elegant engagement ring. Slowly, he sunk down onto one knee and lifted it to you.

“I was so nervous.. I wanted to find the perfect timing but of course..” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, his words stuttering. “Of course you’d ask before me”

“It’s only fair,” You sobbed out between giggles and sniffles. Reaching your hand down towards him so he could place his promise upon your finger, sliding the other ring you'd worn for the better of 4 years into his pocket. “You always go above and beyond.. I want to give it all back to you in return”

Your words weren’t helping his tears, his other knee giving out below him to fully kneel in front of you. “You don’t have to do anything, just stay by my side. I’ll give my everything to you.” Yuta pressed your knuckles to his lips to plant a kiss on each one. “My body, my mind, and my soul are yours. So I accept, let’s get married.”

With his declaration he stood, cupping both of your cheeks in shivering hands. He leaned down to kiss the side of your face, the corner of your eyes, the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips. It was soft, gentle, and passionate. It was Yuta.

“I’ll make tonight the best of your life, I swear to it” he muttered against your lips, his eyes looking at you with a sense of determination you’d only seen a couple of times.

The first was during the night parade of a hundred demons. The second was when you wished him luck before he left to train with Miguel. And the third was your first time. You felt your heartbeat quicken at record speed as he began to pull you back towards the car. Your pace lagged behind his, Yuta’s usual gentleness replaced with overwhelming desire as he swung you over his shoulder.

“W-Wait, Yuta!?” You squirmed around a bit to no avail, tilting down his back as he bent to pick up your shoes and his jacket that’d blown to the sand from the breeze. “Where are we going?? Don’t we have to go home?”

“I rented a hotel, it’s taken care of. Maki will get the mail for us in the morning” He spoke like he’d recited this conversation a million times in his own head. Placing you in your seat and buckling you in nicely. “Trust me.”

It was the same thing he’d told you before taking you here, but this time it was spoken with such an underlying tone of lust that it made you feel dizzy. The entire drive to the hotel was spent with your hand covering your mouth to stifle any noises while Yuta drew tight circles with his finger against your thigh.

“It’s beautiful..” You whispered, taking in the hotel room your now fiance had booked for the two of you. He put the flowers he’d bought you into a vase before setting down a bag he’d secretly packed and stowed in the back of the car.

“You really did plan everything out to perfection didn’t you?” He raised his head at your comment, giving you a shy smile. “This room was actually my second choice, the other one was fully booked” He sighed, unpacking a few items that you couldn’t see over the broadness of his shoulders.

“Hmm.. I’ll take a bath” Deciding it would be best to clean up while he was occupied, you began to walk towards the bathroom until you felt a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. “Wait..” His voice sounded small. “Let’s bathe together..”

There were moments when Yuta acted like his younger self, shy and unsure. The majority of those instances being with you. If you were upset with him, if he had to leave for a particularly long mission, if you were to take control in the bedroom. Or when he had a very specific want that he wasn’t 100% sure you’d like to fulfill. This time, it was bathing together.

“Ehhh? But shouldn’t we both get completely clean first?” You replied, trying to ignore the heat that began to pool between your thighs.

“I won’t try anything yet, I promise. I just don’t want to be apart from you” Yuta rested his chin on your shoulder, his words sincere enough to make you give in. You gave him the go ahead to run a warm bath, your hands going to start the long process that would be undressing yourself.

“Let me help with that too!” He called from the bathroom over the sound of running water, making you stifle a laugh. “Fine~”

You made your way to the tub, stopping beside Yuta who was kneeling in front of it to check the water temperature. “There, now stand still okay?” He told you with a smile, making away quickly with the distance between you.

Standing behind you, he slowly unzipped the back of your dress. The sound of the zipper making the tips of your ears turn red. One of his favorite parts about being intimate with you was the build up. You knew this very well. He’d take hours undressing you if you were patient enough. But he knew now wasn’t the time for that.

Letting you step out of the fabric that now pooled onto the bathroom tile, he reached his hand to undo the back of your bra in one swift motion. An impressive talent he’d acquired after years of experience with you. He placed the garment on the counter before moving on to the bow in your hair.

This was a new sensation, his fingers raking through your locks as he undid the bowl. You could hear his breath hitch, and immediately you knew it was going to be hard to hold back before getting out of the bath. A tiny giggle exited your lips, your hair now free from the confines of his gift.

“Ahh, it’s not fair..” Yuta groaned, tossing the ribbon to the side as he slid his hands down your body to find your panties. “Why do you have to be so..” Fingers hooking around the elastic of the waistband, he pulled them down your legs. “Enticing..?”

Now it was your turn to tremble. His words never failed to make a fire like pleasure burn deep within your core. A throbbing that only he could bring to your surface, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. It was possible that he did. He fought every urge within him to get back on the floor and worship your right then and there. Taking in a deep breath from between his teeth, he pulled his hands from your body and began to undress himself while you started to wet your hair.

You sat on the tiny stool in front of the shower head, humming the tune you’d listened to together earlier that night in the car.

“Stuck in your head?” He asked you, pulling up another seat from behind you as he started to aid in washing your hair. Nimble fingers massaging your scalp gently to lather you in suds before rinsing. “Mhm, it’s a good song after all”

Your voice shook at the end of your sentence, Yuta’s fingertips grazing along your spine and then back up to the nape of your neck. “Keep your word, Okkotsu” It was a stern warning. He let out a sigh in response, picking up a sponge to wash your back. “Thought I’d try my luck anyways”

It wasn’t long before the both of you were properly washed and submerged in the warmth of the bath water. Your head leaning back against his chest as you sat between his legs. The both of you were pressed quite tightly together, causing Yuta to let out a small whine at any movement. “I’m sorry..” He muttered when you shot him a look when he couldn’t help but grind into you. “It’s just.. A tight squeeze..”

“That’s why I told you to wait” You flicked his forehead softly which made him flinch. A tiny ping of guilt caused you to press a kiss to the spot, your hand running through his damp hair. “Shall we get out now?”

You swear to God you’ve never seen Yuta Okkotsu move faster in the entirety of the 6 years you’ve known him.

One of the benefits to dating someone as powerful as Yuta was his ability to learn and adapt quickly. He could easily memorize every movement, sound, and reaction he could elicit from you. The way you liked to be kissed, the places you enjoyed to be touched, and the manner of which you wanted him to please you all had their own separate dedicated category in his mind.

And it seemed he was using every last bit of it tonight as he pressed his naked form against yours. Hands gripping the sides of your hips while he moved his lips on your own. Tiny whimpers of his name leaving your mouth in between breaths, the feeling of complete and utter need within you was so strong that it made your eyes water.

“Please..” You breathed out against his kiss-swollen lips, “Touch me..”

“I’ve been wanting to since you pulled off that erotic stunt at dinner.” He groaned into your jaw before he kissed his way down your neck. The mention of your ‘revenge’ scheme caused you to flush from chest to ears, squirming as he planted his lips to your heartbeat.

Yuta’s hands came up from your hips to cup both of your breasts, gripping them firmly before rolling them in his palm. “I seriously can’t ever get enough of this” He sighed, taking his left hand away to replace it with his mouth. His tongue rolled against your freshly cleaned skin almost desperately. Flicking against your now hardened nipple with practiced expertise. He squeezed the other between his middle and forefinger to earn a high pitched moan from you. Your thighs pressed and rubbed together underneath him, head tilting back to serenade him in more of your praise.

“Ahhh.. Yuta.. Don’t stop, please? I love you.. I love you” You repeated those three words until your mind couldn’t string them together anymore. Hips rolling up to meet his abdomen with needy whines. His self restraint was crumbling with every mention of his name, gaze clouded over with an innate need to please you.

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” He raised his head to ask you for permission to go further, in which you quickly nodded. A smirk played across his lips as he kissed further down until you could feel his still slightly damp hair tickling your thighs.

“Fuck.. You’re so so beautiful, my love..” It was not often that Yuta cursed. The soothing tone of his voice mixed with the eroticism of his words made your hips twitch. “Every part of you.” He traced his finger up and down your damp slit, whining at the way you dripped and shivered under his touch.

Finally letting go of his last bit of self control, he dipped his head between your thighs to take a long lick from the bottom to the top of your pussy. Your all too familiar taste causing him to involuntarily moan against you. Immediately your hand reached down to curl your fingers in his dark hair, your hips moving to feel more of him.

He could tell that you weren’t in the mood to be teased tonight. And he wasn’t either. Here, and now, with your bare body and soul laid out before him, he wanted to bring you to the best peak you’d have yet to experience. Yuta pressed his face against you like a man who’d been starved, his nose bumping your clit as he slid his tongue to lap up and down your folds.

You wondered which one of you was making more noise. Your loud moaning or his lewd sounds of slurping mixed in with soft words of praise between moans? It was impossible to fully understand what he was saying verbally, but you could feel every bit of it. His fingers going to hold you open, wet muscle flicking softly against your clit before he took the sensitive pearl between his lips to gently suck on it.

“A-Ahh-! Wait, Yuta!” You squealed out, hips lifting off the bed to grind against his face while he rubbed his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The coil of pleasure in your lower stomach only seemed to tighten further as he looked up at you with half lidded eyes, groaning against your skin as if begging you to use him.

“Why are you, ahh~ so good at that?” You questioned with no reply, instead feeling the vibration of a chuckle on your cunt before he resumed his task of messily tonguing your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut as you steadily felt yourself grow closer and closer to finish. Yuta swirled his tongue around inside of you before flicking it back out again to repeat the same motion on your clit. The action caused your thighs to shake, your head falling back on the pillow again as your hands tightened further in his hair.

“Here..?” He mumbled to himself, tilting his jaw to press the flat of his tongue against your clit to press down on it before giving you more soft kitten licks. Of course, all of his assumptions were proved correct. Your thighs pressed tightly to his cheeks, the sticky sounds from you juices coating his chin only getting louder as you whined and whimpered.

He took his hands to wrap around your thighs, holding you tightly against his tongue. “Look at me,” he said your name at the end of his command. Your head snapping forward instinctively. “Let it out, it’s okay” You almost finished right then and there, cursing him silently as you were unable to form any coherent words at the moment. To say such a thing, while doing such a thing, and holding eye contact. No one had guts like him.

“Make a mess of me, I’m yours.” And with that final sentence, and a hard suck to your clit you came undone under Yuta like you never had before. You felt your entire body tense before relaxing all at once as you spilled into his mouth and down his chin. Your thighs shook violently, the only sounds you could make were of his name mixed with breathy moans. Throbbing between his lips, he suckled on you gently to coax you through your orgasm, his hips moving into the bed in time with your movements. He swears he’s covered in pre.

Finally Yuta lets go of you with a pop from his lips, lapping up the remainder of your juices from your thighs in an attempt to clean you. He raises his head from between your legs to give you his classic shy smile, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and then proceeding to lick his fingers clean. “Was that okay?” He asked sheepishly, and all you could do was whimper in response.

“I swear to God, I’m going to get back at you for that tomorrow morning..” You mumbled out with your head laying on his chest, both of your body’s much too exhausted to continue any further for tonight. “You make it sound as though I did something wrong” He laughed, running his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“You’ve grown so much.” A sudden wave of sentimentality washed over you as you brushed his hair away from his face with your fingers. “You’re speaking as if I’m a child” Yuta closed his eyes to lean into your touch, turning his head to place a kiss on your palm. “But you have too. We both have.”

The two of you laid in the soft comfort of the hotel bed, speaking of the future in a way you were both too timid to approach before. Words of a new home, a possible switch in professions, new pets, a happy life. “I really never imagined a day where I’d have this.” He said quietly, staring up at the ceiling with an expression of deep thought.

“I’m actually going to get married..” The sentence left his lips before his eyes went to a ring that didn’t belong to either of you, sitting on the living space table. “She’d be happy for you.”

Your voice came to him with words he needed more than oxygen itself.

“You’re right.” He whispered, a smile coming to his face as a few tears dripped down his cheek. “She would.”

Extra Notes: The meaning of the flowers written about are;

Red Tulips: Passion, love, and lust (yes, he was intentionally slick with this LMAO)

Baby's Breath: Sincerity, hope, and new beginnings (It is often used in wedding bouquets!)

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Everything | Overlord!Husk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Overlord!Husk fluff, established relationship with reader, very sweet and domestic, a slightly intimate moment near the end

Word Count: 913

Summary: You were out to support your fiancé while he did his job, but by the end you were about ready to drop, so he steps in to remind you exactly why you're marrying him and not some other overlord.

A/N — I've never written for Husk before — let alone Overlord!Husk, so I'm hoping this gets some love 💗

"It's about that time, my love." You whispered in his ear, watching the hands on the clock tick with every passing second — every passing minute.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

"I'll be done soon, Doll." His grip around your waist tightened as the men around the table stared you down like a piece of meat.

You thought he was insane playing high stakes games. On more than one occasion you found yourself uttering the phrase 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes', which was essentially the equivalent to 'fuck around and find out'. . . Which you had also said many, many, many times.

Husk nearly always had a good hand, so the prize was often money or jewelry — anything that was bet and valuable at the time of his win. Even souls, if they were put on the line. You loved watching those ones, as twisted as it likely sounded. 

Hell, you were almost certain the engagement ring that sat prettily on your finger was won in a bet. No complaints regardless of how it came to be. It was sparkly and just your style.

The only time you had a complaint was when he chose gambling over his responsibilities. . . Namely making sure you were happy and satisfied. Even then, it was a rare occasion, despite practically being his whole job.

Tonight, though, you were bored.

You were hungry.

You were tired and just wanted to go home — but you stayed to support him and it was now long past when the two of you ate dinner and it was rapidly approaching the time when you usually went to bed, knowing your mornings were early and consisted of mentally taxing wedding planning with your closest friends.

You loved them, though, and appreciated all of their ideas. Who in Hell didn't love the idea of an event as important as an overlord wedding?

Bitter, loveless souls obviously — but other than that. . . Who?

When the game finally came to an end, it was no surprise to you when Husk collected his winnings. Almost 10K and two souls. You loved when things worked out.

"Let's get you home, Doll. You look fuckin' exhausted."

"You really know how to flatter a woman." You snorted, allowing him to lead you out of the casino he owned. "I should lock you out of the room for mentioning my exhaustion in public."

"Oh, don't be like that!" He smirked, playing into the little game you always played. When he played back, you knew you were about to get your way. "Gonna make you forgive me, one way or another."

You hummed with a smirk of your own, looking away from him. "We'll see."

"How about. . . Dinner at the house and a nice hot bath, hmm? . . And your favorite ice cream?"

Your smirk morphed into a smile. "Close, but we'll see."

"I'll join you?"

"You're forgiven."

It wasn't long before you were sat at the table eating the quick and delicious meal that Husk made — it was far from something he would've usually made, but it was delicious and you enjoyed it.

He finished eating first and went to run the bath for you, but not without kissing you on the forehead on his way to the shared bedrooms ensuite bathroom.

You loved that bathroom — it had been what sold you on the house in the first place. Sure, the kitchen was nice, but the bathroom had a huge bathtub, a spacious shower, and the colors of the floor and shower tiles went together without clashing or being gaudy.

The lighting wasn't bad either.

You called it your 'own little slice of Heaven'.

You soon finished and put your plate in the sink, but before you could wash up the couple dishes, Husk grabbed your hand and guided you to the bathroom where he urged you to undress and get into the hot bath while he handled the couple dishes.

You did as he asked and got undressed, stepping into the tub filled with water and bubbles. Immediately, the stress from the day melted away as the heat soothed the aching muscles that you surprisingly hadn't noticed until then.

Husk joined you a few minutes later, slipping into the water behind you. He hated water as much as the next cat, but for you, he'd do anything and everything.

"It was a long fuckin' day." He groaned at the hot water, your back pressed against his chest.

"You're telling me. . . I thought it would never end." You chuckled and then sighed contently. "I could fall asleep right here."

"You love going with me and you know it." Husk mused, his hands finding their way into your hair, fidgeting with the strands in a way that raised goosebumps.

"I do. But I also love having moments like this. Moments where it's just us. No gambling. No overlord society gala. No worries. Just us in our slice of Heaven."

He couldn't help but agree, those moments were perhaps the best part of his day.

And he'd give you that.

He'd give you everything.

It didn't matter what it was, whether it was material or otherwise. He loved you, so the world was yours if you asked. Money. Power. Anything. Everything.

"We have all of eternity for moments like this. . . We've already taken the first step." He ran one of his clawed hands down your arm until it was placed in the hand that the sparkly ring adorned, glistening in the light.

Everything for all of eternity.

🏷Tags: @6esiree

[zombiewhor3]

SOUTH PAW?

carl grimes x fem reader

WARNINGS: mentions of character death (Abraham & Glenn), mentions of gore, traumatic events, mentions of amputation, begging, mentions of pregnancy (Maggie's), Negan, unedited work.

A/N: sorry for the long break, i've been so busy with a lot of things but i have a few scrap drafts i might put together and post so i'll try my best to update my queue this week.

a long night of violence is how she could describe it, a long night of tears pouring down everyone's faces as they watched a cruel man bash in two of their friends heads without even such an ounce of mercy for their poor souls in his mind.

the night felt like the eternity but as the sun had risen and the night faded it was still like a fever dream, like this wasn't all real and she was going to have to wake up soon from this nightmare.

except this was all real, Abraham and Glenn's dead bodies with their heads smashed in that was real, all of the blood splattered on y/n's face from the slinging of Negan's bat that was real.

she watched as Rick was tossed back out onto the gravel, his hands reaching to stop himself as he followed the man's forceful orders to get on all fours while he kneeled down to him.

"i'm giving you a choice Rick and this is your grand prize, what you do next will decide whether it becomes just those twos bad day or the rest of these lovely men and women sitting in front of us"

he gestured with his hands for his men to point guns at the back of their heads and y/n could feel the barrel pressed against the back of her head making her swallow harshly.

her knees started to ache from the rocks that pressed against them, the blood of a father figure had dried on her face and she could almost feel like it had been sinking into the pores of her skin.

she felt gross to have the blood on her, she felt sick each time she even looked at the dead man who was next to her, she felt sick knowing his pregnant wife was a sobbing wreck just a few feet away.

and Carl had hated to see her cry with each strike from Negan's bat that pounded into Glenn's head like he wasn't a person but yet just a piece of meat Negan used as his beating ground.

she watched as Negan had approached Carl making her heart sink as he rested his bat against his shoulder and she watched as some of the blood smeared out onto his leather.

he held out a hand to Carl who cocked his head hesitantly as he tried to ignore the gesture but Negan smiled and cleared his throat before speaking up "take my hand kid" he spoke bitterly watching as the teen finally gave in and took the man's hand.

he was stood up and Negan had waved his arm out to the side to where the boy's father rested on the ground, blood on his face, eye bags and his eyes red as his eye were still looking like they had been watering again, like they were on the brim of tears.

he pointed at the spot empty next to his father as Carl took a few steps watching as Negan stood in front of him taking a quite consideration to the gauze over his missing eye.

"you a south paw?" he asked watching as Carl looked clearly confused by a phrase he never heard before and it made Negan re-phrase his question to him, "you a lefty?" he watched as Carl shook his head while Negan pulled out a belt and un-raveled it.

he tied a belt against the boy's arm, "that hurt?" Negan remarked watching as the boy in the hat snapped back a quick 'no' before looking down at the leather tightened on his arm.

"on the ground next to Daddy and don't forget to spread your wings boy" Negan spoke as he watched Carl lay flat on the ground, his head turning in the direction to where he could see y/n and his father.

he could see the terror on his girlfriends face, the fear stuck in her eyes as her palms were flat and sinking into the same gravel the soft flesh of his cheek had now been resting against.

he could hear the crunching of Negan's boots against the rocks, and it stopped once he could see him crouch next to him thanking Simon for the pen that was given to him,

he himself was scared of what he had planned for him, what Negan had planned to do to Carl especially in front of his father and his girlfriend who had more tears pouring down her face.

he marked Carl's arm and apologized in such an sarcastic way that Carl had never even heard a human being sound so derisive in that way, even in the apocalypse.

he could hear his father start to beg as his girlfriend looked down at the ground using the back of her hand to cover up her sniffles, to cover up the rapid breathing spilling out from her.

he could see the harsh way her body rattled as she tried to manage to stay quiet in the fear that someone else would die, in fear that maybe it'd be her or even Carl that'd be next.

the word please was pouring like a continuous river in his head, the word his father kept repeating over and over as he begged Negan to show his son some mercy, to show he himself some mercy.

"don't beg me because i ain't the one doing shit" Negan spoke roughly patting Rick against the back before he gave his next order at the quite obvious traumatized man who was on all fours before him.

"Rick pick up your ax," he paused licking his chapped lips clean before continuing what he wanted Rick to do, "and cut off your son's left arm, now i know you're gonna have to process that for a second and believe me that makes sense so i'll give you a minute"

a loud gasp of air had erupted from y/n's mouth as she closed her eyes at the feeling of the barrel pressing even harder against the back of her head making her lip shake and her eyes flood.

he stood up and rubbed his hands on the denim of his pants watching as Rick's expression turn into now an even stronger pleading one, like it was just the ocean color of his eyes and the quiver of his lip giving off all the true emotion even more than his words that were spilled in such a babble of emotion.

"i am still gonna need you to do it though or all these people are going to die, then Carl dies, then the people back at your home die, and i'm gonna keep you living for a few years just so you can think about the decision you make right now"

Negan looked around at the men and women all lined up, and yet one had the courage to speak up, y/n to be exact only had the courage to speak up because it was her boyfriends life on the line.

"you d-don't have to do t-this, We understand! please we u-understand!" she looked down at her boyfriend who almost had a few tears slipping of his own as he looked at her,

as he looked at the shaking and sobbing mess this man had turned her into, he watched the sorrow tearing through her like a walker who was hungry for flesh.

he seemed to like the fear that ran though all of them, he liked the idea of watching them all tremble while they payed the price of wiping out one of his out posts because something about the pity and the terror gave him power, it gave him control.

"I'm not so sure Rick does. So i'm gonna need a clean cut right there on that line i drew out for you! now believe me this is a screwed up thing to ask, trust me i know but it's gonna have to be clean nothing messy so our doctors can fold something over."

he watched Rick tremble as he kneeled and continued to spew out his words, "we have great doctors the kid'll be fine, probably. and Rick we're in a time frame so this needs to happen now or i will crush this fella's head in myself"

"please i can take his place" Rick begged over and over as his throat felt sore and his mouth dry while his eyes ached and his head started to pound at the idea of hurting his son.

"please Negan please" Rick begged again watching as the man ran over some stubble of his beard and shook his head with a 'no' to answer Rick's pleas for it to be him instead.

"this is the only way, not making this decision is a big decision. Do you want to see everyone in front of you die? because if you don't pick up that ax you will, and you will see everything"

Rick cleared his throat as his hands remained planted in the rocks still in a pity of confusion from the whole situation, and now Negan had started to count loudly and once he got to one Rick had his ax raised while Carl was yelling at him to go through with it.

Y/n sobbed into her hands as she could hear her boyfriend cry out for his own father to cut off his arm, and when she could hear the soft chuckle of Negan and the soft gasping of Rick and not even a subtle yell or scream from Carl but yet she still buried her face.

Negan had taken the ax away from Rick's raised arm and he reached up a hand to pull Carl up from the ground, "you answer to me, you provide for me, you belong to me" and Rick nodded his head and agreed to the fact that he had now belonged to Negan and his men.

"see that look is the look i wanted to see! and man we did it, even those dead guys with the smashed in brains get a participation award for sure" he sighed as he tossed his bat over his shoulder.

"i hope for everyone's sake you understand how things work around here, things change and right about now they've changed whatever you had going for you is over, now i'll be back in a week Rick so use the truck i'll leave to gather my shit or someone else dies."

"I can't look, I can't, Carl please"

she mumbled feeling as someone in front of her had tugged on her hands softly, but she still held them against her face in fear she would see other blood being shed that she didn't want to see.

"look at me y/n, look at me"

he spoke finally being able to pull her hands away from her face once she realized that it was Carl and he had both of his arms, he furrowed his brows softly watching as she quivered and couldn't keep her eyes away from the line that he had drawn out onto his arm.

-

once he and his men had left y/n tried to stand but she could only drop back on her knees as she looked over at the dead man on the ground next to her, she gasped as her knees felt weak.

and it was Carl who lifted her up, it was Carl's arms that wrapped around her while he gave her the comfort of burying her face into the soft fabric of his flannel to shield herself from the damage and the violence that had been done to her friend.

she sobbed so hard that she could feel it shake both of their bodies, Carl stroked over her hair and watched as she shook under his grasp, she shook so hard her body started to wobble.

she couldn't speak because every time she tried to get a word out it was just a rush of tears, a rush of gasps for air, a rush of mutters that weren't even comprehensible to him or her.

her vision seemed blurry and her head was pounding so hard and her heart beat so fast she felt like she was dying, she felt like the world had been slipping away from her finger tips.

the only word that had been able to be heard was a loud gasp of 'no' as she looked at the line still on his arm, the line where Negan wanted Rick to chop off his arm, the line that now told trembling stories.

she squeezed her hand on it so tight that even the belt hadn't cut off that much circulation to his arm, she clung to his shirt as she could hear the sound of someone's shoes crunching against the gravel.

she could hear Maggie's cries and Rick who whispered something to his son who held out onto the shaking y/n, Sasha and Rosita frozen in such a terror and disbelief, Eugene still crying softly, Aaron and Michonne who were sitting in such a pity of silence.

and the two bodies around them.

y/n had slipped to her knees and Carl had let her, he let her bury her face into the ground and he rubbed her back as he tried to stop her from hyper ventilating at the shock around her but it was no use because it felt a ton of bricks were pressing against her chest.

She could feel a second hand on her back and she could tell it was Rick's by the wedding ring that she could feel through the cotton t-shirt she had been wearing,

"oh god, t-that c-could've been y-you" she sputtered out as she still felt like she could feel the specks of blood hitting her cheek with each and every strike from Negan's bat smashing into the pour mans head.

her body ached and it felt like her lungs had now finally collapsed in from the harsh beating her heart had pushed off, her bones ached from all the shaking and her cheeks were sore from the amount of tears that had been poured down them.

"i'm right here y/n, i'm right here" he had dropped to his knees and placed his hat down on the ground, he let his knees sink into the same rocks where the bodies laid.

where Maggie's tears had poured and where they knew the rest of the lives had just changed forever because they got the shit end of a deal they should've never even taken.

"Maggie" she managed to gasp out as she could feel her limp body being lifted up by not just Carl but his father, they had lifted her up so she could be taken to Maggie.

the widow's lungs gasped for air as she looked down at the ground, her knees ached and she felt sick even sicker than before, she could feel the teen reach out and place a soft but shaking hand a top of hers and to which she had finally spoken out.

"you need to go, you need to get everyone out of here Rick" Maggie spoke still sounding so brave, like she was keeping it all together when in reality she was spiraling in her mind.

spiraling at the fact her father, her sister and now her husband the father of her child had been killed in front of her, after they had begged and after they had tried their best to bargain.

"he's our family to, we'll do this together" Rick spoke watching as Maggie sniffled and the still distraught teen next to her had nodded along with the idea as her eyes filled with seeping tears.

"he's right we'll do it t-together because we're all family"

[kateszn]

loser!kate who is so incredibly shy. she’s doesn’t know what to do when you’re wearing a short little skirt, the material wraps around kissable thighs like a glove, it hugs your ass deliciously to the point kate can’t seem to focus on anything but you. she feels the blush coat her porcelain skin as you bend down to pick up your dropped lipgloss. she tries to keep her eyes away, but it’s nearly impossible.

loser!kate who thinks about it later in the dead of night, slender fingers tucked underneath her boxers, thinking about just how beautiful you are, how much she wants to kiss you, touch you, hold you in her arms, but you’ll never want her in the same way. that much she’s sure of. it was practically a joke, you’re so far out of the nerdy, raven-haired girl’s league. it wasn’t like she even had a chance either, you went for pretty girls and kate is not a pretty girl. with her thick framed glasses, thick grey sweats, and the lack of effort in her daily appearance she wondered how you even have her the time of day at all.

loser!kate who starts to distance herself over the last few weeks. she’s feeling inadequate compared to you, not to mention the ongoing rejecting swarming her soul on a daily basis. it’s not much, and she not getting enough. she needs more of you, the thought impounds on her brain until she’s sick in the head, hopelessly waiting for you to put her out of tortured misery. but you convinced her to come over to your pool today, you have something else entirely in mind. your black bikini, swallowing your ass whole as your sunbathing on the reclined chair. shoving tanning oil in kate’s sweaty hands, demanding her with your siren eyes, and what could she really do? besides obey and grovel at your feet? nothing. not a damn thing.

loser!kate who nearly dies when you tell her to untie the secured knot holding your bikini top together. all of your back, yeah, she needs to get your entire back. that’s all this is. kate tried to ignore how soft your skin feels, how much she loves lathering you in oil, how silky and smooth it makes your skin look, or how you back your ass as you purr a soft thank you, baby. the light praise sends kate’s clit throbbing, she’s sure she’ll pass out.

loser!kate who smooths hers oiled hands over the fat of your delicious butt cheeks, you moan quietly and so does kate. if you hear her, you don’t acknowledge her. you continue to let it happen and kate isn’t going to be the one to stop it.

“can you get my front?” you ask gently, but you’re not really asking.

before kate can respond, you maneuver quickly, laying flatly on gour back, flinging your bikini top on the grass, watching your sweet girls eyes bug out of her head.

“i-i, um…you want me to? are you sure?” she asks gently.

“yes, i do. is there a problem?” you push gently. “do you not want to touch me?”

“no…no! i mean…yes, i do?” the stuttering girl phrases it like a question.

she straddles your thighs, as she musters the courage to rub oil over your beautiful breasts with shaky hands. carefully, kate rubs the pad of her thumb over your sensitive nipples as if she’s testing the waters.

“you can do more than touch them, kate.” you state, watching as her face transform from delight to not so subtle confusion.

“oh, really?” she twist them lightly and she wants to sink her teach into the moan you offer.

“yes, baby. put those pretty lips of yours on them and suck.”

loser!kate who rubs her now bare pussy onto your thigh, wet folds slathering her thigh with with her slick as kate loudly moans your name. everything has escalated so quickly, much more than she expected. one minute she’s sucking on tits listening to you moan, then she’s eating you out like her mouth depending on it, fingering herself as you come deliciously all over her face. it’s salty, yet sweet, and kate knows she’ll be thinking about this for days to come. but you don’t give her much time to process.

loser!kate who yelps when you grab her hips with force, sliding her all the away up the length of your thigh, until yours grinding your pussy against hers. it’s magnificent, holy, and god kate is going to cry. this is all she’s ever wanted with you. she’s riding your pussy, tossing her head back, her sharp jaw on display for you, as her tits bounce for your eyes only. she’s chasing the high, the blinding white vision she so desperately wants to see. you’re continuously praising her, sending kate closer to the edge.

god, i knew you’d be so hot under those stuffy sweaters. fuck, baby. keep going just like that.

my perfect little nerdy baby, such a perfect slut for me.

give me that cum, yeah? you wanna be an artist, right? paint me

want you to cum on my pussy so bad….fuuccckkkkkk

be a good girl baby. c’mon, show me what a dirty fucking girl you are.

loser!kate who picks up her pace, every beat of the bed frame hitting the wall sends her closer and closer to the edge, she’s using you, a new surge of confidence floods though her veins, before she cumming, no, squirting all over you and your silk sheets. her body shakes violently and you don’t give a fuck. kate moans your name as she continues to fuck you and you’re just as gone as she is. your cum sticks together like glue. it’s messy, filthy, and so fucking lovely. kate wants to stay like this forever, marked with your pearly white shots of liquid filling her up endlessly. kate whimpers further as you move around the sticky substance with your fingers before pushing it back into her, sinking easily into her sweet hole as you fuck the mixed cum into her.

now, get on your back bishop so i can clean up your mess and mine, with this pretty mouth.

[withthewindinherfootsteps]

MDZS Notes + Analysis — Chapter Two: “Reincarnation”

Three main things stood out to me when rereading this chapter: the theme of status, our intro to WWX, and the information we’re given about his state after death.

…Well, four things, but the other one will get its own post.

The theme of status is immediately introduced* with ‘MXY’’s treatment and the backstory of MXY and his mother, yet again showing just how well MDZS’s ideas are integrated into the text and how well it’s paced! You’re introduced to every important theme so, so early on. Two screenshots are analysed below:

(See: entitlement of the upper classes towards the lower classes, and how this can exist even between members of the ‘same family’; and arguably the idea of debts between a richer family and someone who was 'taken in'. There are a surprising amount of parallels between MXY and WWX, but I'll make my own post about that)

(See: once again, differences in status between members of the same family, and also the worse, and disposable, treatment of one daughter because she was "the daughter of a servant". Now, why does that phrase sound familiar...?)

Also, MXY's mother was sixteen when she attracted JGS's attention... if you somehow needed even more material to hate the guy...

We also get introduced to WWX’s personality(!), which immediately disproves the rumours from last chapter on how he'd cast the world into ruin:

(That's one of the first questions he asks after waking up – I love how he's so concerned about this! It shows us two important things, too: 1) Morality is important to WWX, and 2) Doing immoral things seems to be out of the ordinary for him. Both of these stand in direct contrast to the picture of WWX we were painted earlier!)

(Same thing here, along with showing us some of the (healthy!) pride WWX has – he wouldn't be offended at this if wasn't something he held as important within himself)

(I use this quote again, but here it's once again proving that the vengeful, evil WWX who'd sink the cultivation world into "nothing but chaos and despair" at the first chance he got... very much does not exist.)

(And finally, it's explicitly confirmed here that he's not the type to take exessive revenge and take pleasure in it... at least at this point in time, because. MXY definitely had reason to think this considering Sunshot!WWX, if everyone had been working from the truth. But importantly that isn't who he is now, and isn't who the WWX villified by the cultivation world was – imo that's including Nightless City, we'll get to that when I reach it. But note that actions during the Sunshot campaign aren't even mentioned in the prologue, because, shock, they actually helped the cultivation world win the war! Though that doesn't mean they weren't part of rumours + the WWX hatred mill later.)

Then some non-morality related things:

This is just really funny to me, with how the makeup being badly applied (:o) is enough of an issue to merit a thought – WWX I love you.

And then this way of thinking comes back a few times esp during the earlier chapters, enough to be noted I think.

Confirmation on WWX's status after he died – it's not anything new to point out, but this chapter does give us rare insights into what state he was in during the post-death, pre-rebirth period.

So, he was somewhat conscious, enough to be aware of what he was(n't) doing – seeking vengeance, haunting the living – and was seemingly in control of those actions. However, he was specifically a "wandering ghost" – his soul didn't pass onto the afterlife or "return back to Earth"** like the body-offering spell's caster's would. He was conscious that a long time had passed as well, and this long period of downtime where he could accept + deal with what happened in his first life is what likely allowed him to be so well-adjusted the second time round – even taking into account the remarkably good way he tends to deal with things in general (cue the "forgetting the wound when the pain fades" quote, it summarises WWX's mindset really well)***.

Also, as for resisting the summons from the prologue – I'm wondering how much was due to WWX's experience with resentful energy + general capability (if that affects it..?) allowing him to consciously refuse, how much was due to WWX not being the type to hold onto resentment (so possibly spells targeting ghosts, full of this resentful energy, wouldn't be as affected?), and how much was due to the relative lack of knowledge about how ghosts/resentful energy works compared to WWX. Or, if it was something else. Either way, achieving the impossible, that's WWX for you :D

It is interesting that he hasn't heard a voice in ages despite wandering, too – do ghosts just not hear the same way, or did he deliberately avoid areas with people? I could see both, the second being more likely, especially considering how many people wanted to summon him back for... less than stellar purposes.

Misc:

Poor Mo Xuanyu....

--

*Well, reinforced – in the prologue, one of the things said about WWX is that "if not for the YunmengJiang clan’s adopting and teaching him, he would have been a hobo living on the streets", which is among the insults people throw. So of course, class-affecting-perception is tied to WWX from the very beginnning! But this is the first time it's actually explored, not a throwaway line.

**Though that may be what's literally happening to WWX's soul here – it is wandering around Earth – I don't think that's what this line refers to. There's a very good meta on how different translations handled that line, I really recommend it (tysm @/mxtxfanatic for finding it)!

***It would be very interesting to read a fic where it felt like no time had passed for him since his death, actually! Though the extremely stressful circumstances are gone, it would still be interesting to see a WWX for whom the Siege, Nightless City, Qiongqi Path etc are pretty recent – but only in fic territory, since I'm so, so glad we got the WWX we did in canon. Also, I'd love to see a fic maybe exploring some of his time as a ghost...?

[mourninglamby]

I remember that the first dsmp art of yours that I ever saw was an alliumduo comic of ranboo realizing that he trapped tommy in the prison... it was so haunting and was the first fancontent of the lore that made me go THIS IS AWESOME!! you definitely were one of the artists that made the dsmp feel like there was so much more to it and made me so much more invested ��💕💕

I remembered this after seeing your new allium duo fanart, and i guess I wanted to ask what your thoughts on alliumduo nowadays are, compared to back when you made that comic, if u want to share. Lots of love! 💖

THANK YOUUU I still rly like that comic tbh .. as for my current day thoughts on c!alliumduo, I think they had so much potential as two teenagers traumatized by the same man but in different ways. C!tommy feeling protective of c!Ranboo when c!wilbur started to sink his hooks in vs. c!Ranboo yelling at c!sam for leaving him in the prison with c!dream…… idk I have a lot of love in my heart for their unspoken solidarity. I also think ranboo The Guy (despite all the many many many many issues with his characters’ story and overall execution) is so aware of the horrors c!tommy went thru (the whole “I think Tommy is just Scared” thing). So this manifests in his character as sympathy for c!Tommy’s helplessness ….. c!Ranboo and c!tommy being so fearful but in starkly contrasting ways (prone to isolation vs prone to angry outbursts) and all the shit with c!clingy vs. c!bee…….. still coming out of it with strong mutual affection and assurance … idk. It feels hopeful in the realistic, messy way. The way that says “someone somewhere will understand you, in spite of the hurdles it takes to let them in.”

Also… C!ranboo helping c!dream in enderwalk to keep c!Tommy in the cell resulting in a canon death, vs c!tommy unknowingly helping c!wilbur essentially orchestrate a canon death for c!ranboo in ho16. They both have been used as tools in the machinations of their respective deaths. C!tommy doesn’t know about enderwalk. C!ranboo doesn’t know the intricacies of c!wilbur and c!dreams deep hooks in c!tommy. I mourn the fact that this was never addressed because i know in my soul that they would have understood each other in a more overt way had they talked about it. C!tommy’s strong loyalty and compassion and c!ranboos nurturing nature outweigh their grief.

I think it would have been beautiful to see victims who hurt each other in the thick of their abuse find solidarity in forgiveness. Not forgiveness for what happened to them, but for each other’s role as a puppet to the real perpetrators of their trauma. It would have helped get the story back on the trajectory of murdering c!dream and casting out c!wilbur, because if they had discussed things with each other and worked through their complex feelings, I KNOW they could have found the words to describe what they went through, and then hopefully take initiative to rally up enough support to take c!d and c!wil down. Sigh…… oh well. Maybe one day I’ll work on another comic about them. I still think it’s a story worth telling.

(Note: I used to see a lot of people use the phrase “trauma bond” to describe c!allium or c!clingy … while I understand what you want it to mean, this is an incorrect way to use this term. A trauma bond is formed between the abused and the abuser. Please read more about it here if you are confused! I really don’t want to see this term misused anymore. It’s very uncomfortable >_<)

[rosellacwrites]

Sharp Dressed Man — Part 2

summary: Steven wants to know just how much you like his suit.

pairings: Steven Grant x AFAB!Reader (otherwise undescribed), implied Marc Spector x AFAB!Reader, implied Jake Lockley x AFAB!Reader

rating: E. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

warnings: suit kink, D/s dynamics (softDom!Steven my beloved), voyeurism, thigh riding

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: Written for the Moon Knight Spring Bingo @moonknight-events — this is entry #2 for our favorite square, Thigh Riding! Direct continuation of Sharp Dressed Man — Part 1. Happy reading!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Steven’s never been good at hiding his inner self from you. Transparent as glass, he broadcasts every emotion that passes through him, no matter how small. So whenever he comes home from a fight, it’s not hard for you to guess how it’s gone.

Poorly, and he sinks into your softness, wanting comfort, needing reassurance that he hasn’t failed in his duties and you still love him no matter what. Well, and he’s cocky, strutting, endearingly full of himself but never arrogant; those are the nights on which interesting things tend to happen.

Nights like those, he lets his well-hidden dominant streak out to play, but it’s not the kind most would recognize. He could be rough with you, if he wanted; he’s strong enough to throw you around a little, if you asked, but that’s not his way. It’s so subtle, so soft and gentle, that neither of you had even realized what he was doing at first.

When you’d thought of domination before, you’d thought of ropes and whips and cuffs, sluts and whores and daddies; all those have their place in someone’s bedroom, but you have no desire for them to enter yours. But tender words of praise, feather-light strokes and worshipful attentions, playful teasing drawing your pleasure out and out and out until you’re mindless and begging: those things, you crave.

And lucky for you, Steven’s bloody good at giving them to you.

Sometimes you think it’s the contrasts of him that you love best: the gentle heart and brilliant mind and sweetheart soul, all housed in the body that knows a hundred different ways to kill someone. The mellow comforting voice, sweet and rich as chocolate, that can murmur cherished pet names and filthy suggestions in the same breath. The deep brown puppy-dog eyes, that can gaze at you with love and wonder or scorch your skin. Marc and Jake are complex enough men, in truth, but their desires are more straightforward.

But whoever Steven has recently been fighting, you know they won’t be bothering any of your boys again for quite a while, because tonight is one of those nights.

“Do you feel like playing tonight, love?” He takes a seat on the end of your bed, strong thighs spread wide, and pats one in invitation when you nod eagerly. “Come give me a little kiss, then.” True to your request, he’s left his suit on; faithful to the end, your Steven.

You perch on his lap, winding your arms around him to keep your balance, and bow your head to his. He drinks in all the little sounds you make, and you don’t realize it but your hands are roaming from his curls to his shoulders to his back to his waist and back again, growing more restless by the minute. When he feels you begin to squirm in his lap, the muscles of your thighs tensing against each other, he pulls back from you.

“Poor little thing,” he croons. “Do you need more?” You nod, wide-eyed and desperate, and he smiles up at you. “I’ll take care of you, darling. Don’t I always?”

“Always,” you agree. And it’s true: he always does. They all do.

“Why don’t you start by taking your clothes off for us, then?”

This isn’t your first time playing this game; it’s phrased as a question, but you know better. Obediently, you stand up and begin to strip, and when you turn your back to Steven for a moment, you’re glad you chose the nice matching set today. The tall antique mirror, placed opposite the bed for just these occasions, reflects you in triplicate, but you know what Steven sees. “Are they watching?” you ask breathlessly.

Steven smiles at you as he takes off his jacket. “‘Course they are. They’d never miss a show like this.” He rolls up his sleeves, and you bite your lip to hold back a whine at the way the snowy linen and leather frame the muscles of his forearm. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he clears his throat with an amused huff.

“Sorry,” you stammer, suddenly noticing that you’d frozen in the middle of working your jeans down. Steven just shakes his head fondly.

“You’re enough to make a bloke get a swelled head, you know,“ he says. “Looking at me like that and all.”

Oh, Steven, so sweetly self-deprecating even when he’s in the process of seducing you. “Oh, sorry,” you retort. “You must not be able to see how handsome you are because I’m blocking the mirror.” Fully nude now, you saunter back toward him, feeling the heat of his dark eyes on your body.

“Cheeky thing.” God, he’s tempting, the way he’s leaning back on his hands, grinning at you. His long legs are still spread in a way that you despise on the Tube but love in your bedroom. “Now. What shall I do with you?”

“You could kiss me some more,” you suggest innocently. He laughs and draws you back down to his lap. In your hyper-aroused state, you fancy you can feel the weave of his suit imprinting its pattern on your skin, and the whisper of friction makes you squirm.

“I think I’d like to play a different game,” he murmurs. “I think… I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“What’s the catch?” There’s always a catch.

“There’s no catch, love. Just answers.” He strokes your cheek, looking into your eyes. “Why do you like my suit so much?”

“I…” You don’t know what answer he’s looking for, exactly. “It’s just — so fancy, but I know what it’s meant for… it’s like — James Bond or something. Dapper and deadly.” Your face feels warm against the cool leather of his glove; it’s not something you can really explain, the instant rush of heat you’d felt at the sight of him dressed like that. “You look so handsome in it…”

“You like the way it feels, yeah?” He smiles. “And don’t try to tell me otherwise. Couldn’t keep your hands off me when I walked in.”

You know better than to hide anything from him. He knows you far too well, and takes every opportunity to learn more. “Yes,” you whisper, unable to keep from touching him even when called out, and he chuckles.

“Thought so. What else do you like about it?”

“It’s — so perfect. Fits all of you just right…” It’s like you’re hypnotized; you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “It shines, like the moon.”

“You’re making Marc a bit jealous, you know,” he murmurs with a laugh in his voice. “You’ve never made such a fuss about his.”

“His is cool, but…” Your words trail off when he ducks his head and takes your nipple gently between his teeth. A little whimper escapes you with your exhale, and he lets you go again.

“Jake says I’m letting my mouth run away with me again,” he says, almost to himself. “‘Fuck her already, pendejo,’ he says. Rude.” He tuts. “That man has no appreciation for the art of seduction.” This is, in fact, a blatant, towering lie, but you know better than to call it out. “But I suppose you do deserve a reward for answering my questions…”

“Oh, please,” you breathe, squirming again; your leg brushes up against his cock, straining against the pristine fabric of his trousers, and he makes a rumbling sort of sound. “Please, Steven…”

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to tempt me into touching you, aren’t you?” He narrows his eyes at you, and you immediately protest.

“I wasn’t trying to, it’s just — kind of hard to miss, you’re so — “

“Oh! Flattery, now!” He’s laughing outright, not unkindly. “You really are pulling out all the stops, darling. Just for that…”

Your eyes go wide. “Just for what?”

He takes your chin in his hand, and tilts your face down to his. “You’re trying so hard to make me touch you — well, I’m not going to.”

“Steven!” you wail. “You can’t do this to me — I need you… been waiting all day for you to get home and make me come…”

“Oh, I never said you didn’t get to come,” he says airily. “That would be cruel of me, wouldn’t it?”

“Then what — “

“You’re going to do all the work, and I’m going to be the lucky bastard with the front row seat.” His hands land on your hips and he guides you to turn around and face him, straddling his leg. “Your hands like the way my suit feels, don’t they? Let’s see what else likes it.���

With a jolt you realize exactly what he means, and he watches the understanding heat cross your face. “I — I don’t want to spoil it…” Your hips don’t care about such things. They’re already rocking against him, even as you protest, and his smile has a wicked edge to it.

“It’s so perfect, yeah?” he coaxes, and his voice sends a shiver through you. “All nice and clean? Go on then. Make a mess of me.”

“Won’t Khonshu….” You can’t finish the thought, too overwhelmed by the gentle drag of the textured fabric against your cunt. You were already primed for it, ready for a single fingertip to send you soaring, and you’re so sensitive that each individual thread feels like an exquisite assault. In the back of your mind, you know this is what you’d wanted, the second he’d walked through that door; somehow, he always seems to know the deepest, strangest desires of your heart, and he won’t rest until he makes them all come true.

“I’m Mr Knight, aren’t I?” he laughs, leaving a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses down your throat. “I should be entitled to wear my fair lady’s favor into battle. Not quite what the knights of old had in mind though, innit?” You moan at the thought of him plunging back into the fray, your slick still drying on his suit.

He buries his face in you as you ride the hard muscle of his thigh, his messy curls and shadow of stubble tickling your breasts. “God, your tits are perfection,” comes his muffled voice from your cleavage. There’s too much give in the bed, and the way it dips under him as you grind is just enough to keep you chasing after your peak, getting agonizingly close but never quite reaching it. You grit your teeth and clutch silky handfuls of his waistcoat, no longer caring about spoiling its perfection.

Steven, always so attuned to you, senses your need and tears himself away from your breasts. “Do you need a little help, love?” You mewl in agreement, and he chuckles. “Use your words, then. Ask me for what you need, and I’ll give it to you, as much as you want.”

You tell him that you just need a little more pressure, right there, and when his hand slips between you and him, you’re off like a rocket, wailing and soaking his trousers.

“Gorgeous,” he purrs in your ear when you drop, panting and helpless, to his shoulder. “Bloody gorgeous, you are. You’re doing so well for me.”

But doing so well carries a distinct implication: this isn’t over yet.

to be continued…

[yongislong]

back scratching + dreamies.

genre: fluff AAAAGH, suggestive? i can never tell lmao nonidol!dreamies

note: no cws just tooth rotting fluff, tysm for requesting anon! i hope you enjoy this... word vomit pfft. not proofread im studying GAHH

mark... adores it when you scratch his back. never knows how to ask for it though HAHA. melts every time you do it. especially likes it when you do it to him before bed or as a way to let him know that the sun has risen. its one of the moments in your relationship that is most intimate if that makes sense? he finds comfort in sitting in silence with you after a long day, as the scratching noises break through the silence in your shared room :")

renjun... is so ticklish. honestly prefers to do it to you but he cant help but curl into your side whenever you scratch his back even if he's practically convulsing under you from how much it tickles. will flat out ask you to do it, but he always needs to be in a specific mood since it doesn't happen often! usually asks for it on days where he's been hunched over his computer for a long time and his back is in more pain than usual

jeno... human cat fr. LOVES it when you do it especially if you have longer nails. he feels recharged and it always helps him fall asleep so fast. if you wear fake nails OH MY GOSH he will never ever stop asking you to rub his back, its become a nightly routine after the first time. he will do it to you sometimes but he always falls asleep so quickly that it bothers you pft, his dead weight lands on your back when its only been 10 minutes. likes it when you scratch his abdomen too. just likes feeling your nails rake over his soft skin

haechan... makes it a game LOL. has you write words on his back and he takes his turns trying to guess the phrase you wrote or guess the letters you're tracing. gets SO excited when he guesses right and pulls you in closer. asks for it without words. will always rest his body on your lap and you know that's your cue to get to scratching. the biggest content smile is plastered on his face, even in his sleep! likes it when you scratch closer towards the small of his back since thats where most of his pain is, or so he says lol

jaemin... so so so kind my babygirl. it kinda just happens. he's resting his head on your chest and his big broad shoulders are in perfect view, its kinda hard not to scratch his back esp when he sleeps with no shirt on. so tempting. his skin is so soft and he MELTSS. also likes to play games with you, especially one night when you traced a heart on his back and his pulse SOARED. makes it a point to grab your wrist and tuck your hand under his shirt or drape it along his bare shoulders whenever he wants it from you. also falls asleep really fast. ticklish around the waist OOP

chenle... wake him up with back scratches PLEASE. i feel like he ends up facing away from you during his sleep so in the morning, raking your fingers up and down his spine softly jolts him awake and its so cute. always acts like its his first time on earth when he wakes up btw LMAO. enjoys it so much. prefers if you use your finger tips because he gets itchy whenever you use your nails HAHA. he's so domestic though. he acts like an old man who's been with you for years. grumbles about how nice your fingers feel until his rant is cut short by his snoring

jisung... god he is so. that boy is a Child. truly the most genuinely nice and pure soul. if you were to ever scratch his back, i think you would feel how he would physically sink into the mattress or couch. has never had a partner before so is pretty timid about asking for back scratches but he really really enjoys them. always insists that he return the favor though! clings to you like a koala. makes it a point to make this a ritual since he finds such fun in it. helps him calm down on nights where his anxiety or nightmares are bad. can't help but get flustered every time you dip your palm under the collar of his shirt

[wol-fica]

-𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕎𝕙𝕠 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝔸𝕣𝕖-

BEFORE YOU READ: I’m not a medical expert, and all the information i could find on non-verbal people is from the internet. Everyone has different experiences with being mute and this is just the same. Please do not come after me saying i’m mocking non-verbal people.

This reader has selective mutism: in certain situations, she can speak simple words and phrases. in others, she can’t. (again, i found all of my claims from the internet)

~

summary - reader is getting judged for being non-verbal, so Tara comes to the rescue and saves her.

warning - use of the f slur, slight blood, violence, comfort, fluff af, Tara being a boss ass queen (slay)

———————

Sometimes in life, you will come across people who don’t have the complexity to understand your own differences from them.

Wether it’s you have a different skin tone or if you speak a different language, there will always be someone who will challenge you.

Now, being non-verbal, you get this often. You didn’t choose to not be able to speak, but yet your inability to choose has left you with judgmental people who pick on you for no reason.

Currently, you were being pinned up against a wall in a store of the large Brookfield Place mall in NYC. You were doing this fun shopping trip with your friends when a group of jockey football players from your old school decided to target you.

“Awww, can the little faggot not scream?” One of them asked, getting all up in your space.

You whimpered, tears clouding your eyes as his hands clamped on your windpipe. His friends behind him were smirking, stupidly snickering as your conscious slowly slipped away from you.

Suddenly, his hand was ripped from your throat as he was thrown backwards. Chad, one of your new friends you made, was standing over him with a menacing gaze. The other two jocks were now backed into corners, Sam and Mindy glaring them down with ferocity you wish to never be caught in.

A cough exited your mouth, your body slumping over against the wall. You clutched your neck, attempting to breathe normally while regaining your composure. Soft hands suddenly cupped your face, gently pulling you upright to see who was saving you.

Tara Carpenter, your new-found girlfriend, was staring at you with worry as she led you away from the group of jumpers. She was silent, keeping her hand in yours as she dragged you into a nearby bathroom.

After sitting you down on the toilet, she got to work with wetting a paper towel and tilting your chin up so she could wipe the blood off your face from when one of the jocks socked you.

“Are you okay?” She finally asked, pausing from cleaning your face as she met your eyes.

‘Yes, i’m fine.’ You signed, leaning your cheek into her palm as she chuckled at your antics.

“I would be scolding you right now, but you are way to cute to yell at.”

You breathed out lightly, your way of laughing, and relaxed against the mall toilet as Tara finished cleaning you up. Once she finished, she pressed her lips to yours, her thumbs rubbing against your cheeks lovingly. As she pulled away, you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her into you so she stood in between your legs.

“Mm, needy baby.” She hummed, her hands finding her way into your hair as she massaged your scalp.

‘For you.’ You signed with one hand, burying your face into her chest.

“I know, you’re whipped.”

You chuckled, leaning back to look up at her as she pursed her lips down at you. Her brown orbs bore into your soul, making you feel lost in her eyes. The small moment was quiet and nice, until Mindy burst into the room sporting a bloody lip.

“Good news, those jocks won’t be bothering you anymore Y/N!” She cheered, heading for the sink.

‘Thank you.’ You signed before leaning back into your girlfriend.

Tara glanced down to you, leaning down to your ear to mumbled a sweet, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered back.

———————

you do not have permission to repost my work on any platform

[obsolescent]

Hey!! Next one week I’m getting braces and as someone who has very strong anxiety this has been getting me so much stress and making me feel like complete crap. Could you please write a ghost x reader (gn since I’ve read that’s what you use:) ) trying to help reader just relax or feel better. Something like that would be nice. Love you work, you are amazing take care 🩷

Don't you Fret

Author’s Note: Hi! This is so sweet. This will make my first Ghost x reader piece! I hope you enjoy it and I hope it’s what you were looking for! Also I left this ambiguous on what the procedure is, so if any of you are worried about any kind of upcoming procedure I hope this eases your worries some ♡ Good luck by the way!! You’ll do great :)

Content Warnings: Gender neutral language used, fluff, Simon trying to understand southern slang lol

You stare down at the paperwork in front of you. The contract, consent forms, guidelines, and instructions on what to do in preparation for your procedure next week lay scattered across the coffee table. Your leg is bouncing a mile a minute while you chew on your nail, the reality of it starting to set in. 

To say that you’re an anxious person…Well yeah, you are. It’s even worse when it comes to medical procedures. This ain’t even that extensive of one, but reading the step-by-step process of what will happen, how long it’ll take, and the aftercare is making you pretty antsy. “Ugh,” you groaned, putting your face into your hands.

“You alright, love?” You jumped, twisting around to find Simon standing behind you. “Good lord, felt like my soul left my body,” You gasped out. He snickered, walking around the front of the couch to sit beside you.

He grabs your hand and begins stroking it, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, helping to ease some of your nerves. He glances at the papers laying across the surface in front of you two and asks, “This what’s gotten you on edge?” “An understatement,” You grumbled, “More nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”

He stared at you for a moment, face blank, before those blond brows of his started to furrow, brown eyes narrowing. You can almost see the equations floating around his head as he tries to decipher the phrase. “Fucking hell. English, please. Or at least slow down, can’t understand with you talking so fast.” 

“I’m very fucking nervous, alright?” You mock back, a poor attempt at an English accent. He huffs at that, before pulling you into an embrace. “Cheeky,” He muttered into your hair, giving a kiss to your head. You sighed, sinking into his warmth.

You’re so glad to have him home with you at this moment. The two of you always appreciate your time together, but you more so now than usual, with how worried you’ve been.

“Anythin’ I can do to help ease your mind?” He asks, rubbing soothing patterns into your back. You hum, nuzzling your face into his neck, before saying, “Not sure. I feel like crap right now, upset with myself for being so upset. It’s annoying! I wish things like this didn’t bother me, that I could be more like you. It seems like nothing phases you, you’re always so cool and collected.” You sighed, fiddling with the hem on his sweatshirt’s sleeve.

“It’s not like I’m having extensive surgery that’ll have me under for hours!" You exclaimed, making exaggerated hand gestures while speaking. Simon grunts in agreement, “Can’t help what your brain is in shambles over, love.” You sighed again, pulling away to look up at him. 

“Darling,” He said, voice gravelly. He cups your face in both hands. You look into his eyes, finding adoration and warmth. You feel a tingle in your nose, a sign you’re about to start crying. Scrunching your face up, you will the tears away, unsuccessfully. You start to sob, your hands coming up to cover your face. “None of that now,” He says, pulling your hands away, peppering kisses across your tear stained cheeks. 

“I-I’m sorry,” You choked out, “I feel pl-plumb stup–” Before you can finish your sentence, Simon is picking you up in his arms. You squealed, latching onto his shoulders as he made his way to your bedroom. He opens the door, walks toward the bed and drops you onto the mattress before plopping himself down beside you. He turns you towards him, bringing you into his warm embrace once again.

“Now then. We’ll stay here as long as we need, yeah? Just let it all out, alright?” He murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. You cling to him, feeling safe and secure in his grasp. Hiccuping, you replied, “Thank you, Simon. Love you.” Your words are muffled by his shirt. He chuckled, pulling back enough to bring you into a kiss. “Love you, too, pet,” He whispered after he pulled away. Under his breath, you hear him begin to hum.

You two stay interlocked, listening to his heartbeat and humming, it lulling you to sleep. His hand continued its ministrations on your scalp as he felt your breathing even out. He pulls far enough away to look at your face, relieved to see you so calm. He smiles to himself, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “My favourite,” He whispered, content with you relaxed in his arms. 

[fog-of-hydrangeas]

(plain text version under the cut ^-^ be warned, it's quite long)

this is the first time i think,

i can begin to understand the phrase

“sea of clouds” because yes—those are

nothing if not oceans,

mighty and inaccessible.

stretching out into eons because

of course the screen cannot fit them.

i can’t get any glass clear enough of

blemishes and imperfections, spots

and scrapes and scars and imprints,

to truly see them

as if they were real.

so i feel my shoulder blades ache

with the weight that isn’t there.

oh and maybe if those pixelated

horizons are blurred just enough

by tears (of longing for something

that can never be:

a new kind of saudade)

they will swirl around my not-body

and envelop it in cornflower blue.

“do you ever wonder in feathers?”

yes, and how cruel to even attempt to

imagine in any way else, to rip myself

from the things

that form me, always will.

that are forever out of my reach,

because here i cannot swim,

only sink in this anchor-form, soul

dragged down at terminal velocity,

like words hugging the edge of a page.

and i often wish

i could ask why they do.

(maybe they could define it all,

neat little collections of horizons.)

because before that can ever happen

i will fall, consumed by unseen stars

and seas miles above the ground and

souls barely tethered

to anything but pictures of sky;

we are bound to that feathered saudade

and those wings

which

can’t

break 

our

falls.

[multiwreckedmess]

Seonghwa Syndrome

Pairing: Robber!Seonghwa x fem!reader WC: 11k Summary: The joke that you’ll only meet a man if he breaks into your apartment suddenly becomes all too real.  Warnings: Starts rough, ends bittersweet. More detail under the cut. Seonghwa is really bad at being a bad guy but he’s not a good one either.

As usual this does not claim to represent Seonghwa or any member of Ateez. This is just silly fantasy. Please do not interact with my work if you are under the age of eighteen. This is for my comfort thank you!

TW/CW: Seonghwa is bad at being a bad guy, nearly suffocates the reader. Noncon restrainment, strangers who fuck, unrealistic. P in V sex, oral (fem receiving). Pet names (babe, baby) unprotected sex. ALL SEX IS CONSENTED TO PRETTY LOUDLY THOUGH HE’S NOT ALL BAD. I’m sorry if i missed something, i’ve been writing this for two years and just need it out of my drafts.

Sirens. Every night there were sirens. Sirens were a package deal with the roaches in the shoebox of a studio apartment you were able to afford. The city was so full of sirens their frequencies almost canceled each other out. An app pinged your phone resting on the nightstand, “ACTIVE ROBBERY 1 MILE AWAY Do you want to alert your neighbors?” It wasn’t even worth swiping to see the location. A friend had urged you to get the app after hearing the location of your apartment. Her reasoning was sound, if you knew a fight was happening you could avoid it. It made sense. A single woman in the city, just another tool, you argued with yourself. The semi constant pings only added to your notification clutter and numbed you to the violence surrounding you. Unless it was happening on your side of the block, you could ignore it.

Slowly the traffic sounds lulled you into a half sleep, sinking into your bed in your dark apartment. A wonderful dreamless black abyss of rest curled around your heavy arms and legs. Down down down, falling and tumbling. You jolt suddenly, soul smacking into your body as you return down to the waking world with a thud. A hand is pressed to your mouth.

Not your hand. Your brain desperately tries to understand the phrase. Not your hand, you repeat, mulling over each word. Not. Your. Hand.

Your first instinct is to fight. This is how you discover your hands have been tied in front of you, slip knots around your ankles. You throw the full weight of your body against the unknown perpetrator’s grasp, thrashing and wriggling to free yourself from it. Anything to get a good breath in, a strong yell. Maybe if you could just yell your neighbor’s name they’d hear it through the joining wall. His shoulder lands somewhere in the middle of your torso, knocking the wind from you slightly, forcing your limbs to quiet.

“Please. Please. Stop. Please. I don’t want to do this.” A man’s voice whispers urgently in the dark. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It’s disarming. The pleading as if he is the one held captive by you. Your body is tired, chest heaving with every labored breath through your nose. As your eyes adjust to the lack of light you can barely make him out. All black, leather gloves, long black hair, black bandana covering half of his face.

Sirens.

Ducking close down to you his eyes lock with yours and flash with fear, a cornered animal. Both of you breathe together waiting. The pitch changes as the cops blaze down the main street toward the end of the neighborhood grid until you can no longer hear them. Fuck. As if they would’ve stopped anyway.

A long rip of cloth.

“Sorry.”

You worm under him as his grip shifts. Fabric presses to your mouth.

“I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly you are fighting to keep your mouth closed as his hand pinches the sides of your cheeks. Bunched cotton, almost overflowing, forced between your lips, gagging you.

“I really fucking hate this too you know.” He clamps his hand down again, you can hear the distinct tugging noise of duct tape being ripped from the roll, confirmed as he pulls his bandana down to bite and tear the piece off, replacing his hand with it with a sigh. “I’m not just saying that. I really do hate this.”

Handsome, you shake your head in revolt. How can you think that at a time like this? How quickly can stockholm syndrome occur? You chide yourself. But really, you’d have to google it when this was over. Assuming this would be over. Assuming you’d be able to google when it was all over. Assuming.

The man has busied himself with something at your window. A black duffle bag, of course. He bends down with a groan and tosses something back towards you. A brick is your first thought. You start plotting how to prevent him from bashing your skull in, itemizing all the things in your apartment that might be of value to him, appraising their approximate worth monetarily and emotionally. But the object lands too lightly on your bed to be a brick.

“Sorry, I had to use your bedsheet. I can at least pay for that, if not the therapy you’ll need.”

A wad of cash? You shift around and squint, knot tightening at your ankle. Sure enough a band of bills sits near your shin. What the fuck, you repeat over and over as he sidles up next to you, bed shifting slightly from his weight. You want to fight harder, fling your arms up at his head with a side swipe, but your body seemingly has accepted its fate with a whimper. The man is jittery with leftover adrenaline, leg bouncing uncontrollably. He curses, he does nothing but mutter curses and shake for a solid minute before jolting up again and beginning to pace a short distance next to your bed.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye. As attractive as he may be, he is frightening. His energy is erratic and unstable. In all of the anxiety ridden scenarios you’d thought up, this was not one of them. Your body is racked with sobs, choking on the fabric in your mouth, snot bubbling up in your nose. His footsteps are more frantic around your bed, eyes too full of tears to see him.

“Oh shit oh fuck,” you feel his weight press into the spot near your waist and you flail your arms out half heartedly towards your approximation of him, connecting but bouncing off of him without much heft behind your swing. Undeterred he presses a tissue to your nose and wipes down over the makeshift gag. “I’m. I’m not good at this. I haven’t had to do this. Oh fuck I’m so sorry.”

His voice sounds genuinely distressed. He’s so strangely polite, he’s so confusing. He could’ve left you to sob and drown in your own snot but instead he has busied himself with an almost sisyphean task of keeping your face relatively clean with gentle dabs and calming swipes. Suddenly your sobs turn to laughs. It’s ridiculous, it must be a dream, it’s unreal. Laughing and crying and shaking until your body can heave no more. The man is still next to you with your box of tissues half gone, used ones neatly piled on top of your phone. He seems relieved that you’ve quieted, shoulders relaxing downwards with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats his mantra, low and soothing, “but the less you know the better.”

The man pads off into the dark of your room, leaving you to stare at the ceiling. You can’t help but wish you’d met under different circumstances, maybe at a bar or club or running errands. Certainly not in the middle of the night, bound and gagged on your bed. It had been a joke in your friend group that in order to meet someone, anyone, they’d have to come to your doorstep, but through the window seemed a little much. A harmless little joke about how you never got out anymore. A harmless little in group gag that you’d played along with turned into a fucking nightmare. How could this possibly end well for you? You’ve seen his face, heard his voice. However, if he was going to do something to you, wouldn’t he have done it already? You couldn’t quite remember from the true crime podcasts you’d listened to, how long you had to wait with your life in the balance. What sort of sick freak would do this? Ted Bundy. Ted Bundy was a handsome, well mannered man and yet he did the things he did. Fear rises in the pit of your stomach as you hear his footsteps returning to your side.

“A lady shouldn’t live alone in a second floor apartment. Don’t you know that’s dangerous? You should at least put some men’s work boots near the door,” you hear him chuckle slightly and wince. Oh great, the potential serial killer is giving life advice. He seems to be bent over oddly to one side, hand covering the other. “Do you have like…something like a first aid kit? Fuck, needle and thread might do.”

You look at him bewildered.

“I really don’t want to turn your apartment upside down to find it. I wouldn’t know how to put everything back and things might go missing. I’d hate to leave a worse mess than I already will.” He smiles, which you think is meant to look kind but comes off as sinister.

You halfheartedly nod your head towards your entryway again.

“I checked as best I could without moving anything but honey…” you hear a note of judgment in his voice.

You loudly humph and stare straight up. Fuck him, make a mess of your fucking apartment. Make a mess of your life. Make a mess of your corpse.

He sighs and sits on the far edge of your bed from you. You hear a rip of fabric again. Your sheets. “You know I’m not a bad guy.” He pauses.

You stare at him, incredulous.

“Okay well, I’ve done bad things but I’m not a bad guy. I swear there is a good reason. The less you know…” he trails off again, head snapping towards the sound of another passing siren.

Whole body tensed and alert, he breaks your gaze and watches the light scatter from the street reflect off the adjacent building and into your window, hawk-like, perched apprehensively. Staring at his side profile, you try to memorize every little feature, anything that might help the police identify him. Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. Full lips. It’s an itemization of the statue sitting in front of you, the only movement is his chest as he breathes slow measured breaths. Slim muscular build. Or at least he seems slim. The leather jacket he wears hides his true shape well, maybe the reason he wore it. You continue your itemization. Sculpted eyebrows. Are those his god given brows? No one could naturally have that shape. High cheekbones. Again, well shaped lips. If you gave this description to a sketch artist they might think you’d hallucinated the entire “experience.”

Lights having passed the man slumps back inwards, wincing slightly, only caught because of your intense focus on him. He doesn’t seem to care how much you stare at him, quietly accepting of the situation the two of you were in. It’s infuriating. The bindings on your ankles dig in more as you wriggle your legs again, attempting to kick out at him. He doesn’t flinch. Sweat drips down where your arms are bound to each other, if you could just bend your elbows enough to reach the tape covering your mouth you could scream.

But what good would any of it do? A wash of calm passes over you. What would one more scream in the night mean to the soundscape of the city? The rational part of you begs to give up, to let yourself slip back into sleep and hope that pain will be quick if anything. The animal part of you is raging, unwilling to go down without a fight. Didn’t you already lose the fight? Bound and gagged on your own bed, that seemed like losing.

You hardly notice the shift in the bed as the man gets up and hobbles away again, too at war with yourself. It’s not until the stove light comes on and blinds you that you notice that he’s moved at all. He doesn’t look well, by your estimation, even by the yellow light of your kitchen he looks drained of color. The slouch to his side is more noticeable as he digs through your pantry and fridge, still carefully closing the cupboards as though he lived with you. The kitchen isn’t much to speak of, a single line up of appliances and two small counters, one taken over by a drying rack and dishes, so there is not much for the man to look through. Still the search seems to exhaust him and he comes up empty handed. Another strange realization washes over you: if you were hosting him, if you weren’t being held hostage in your own home, you’d want to ask him the same question. What did he want?

Divorced from your body the scene is almost like a noir film. Things feel hyperreal, like watching a movie in full sixty frames per second. Every second of life is a shot in a soap opera. It’s a natural response to a traumatic event, the dissociation. You let it happen, as though you had a choice. The man shuffles back cautiously, giving you a once over. You imagine you look as gnarly as you feel, hair wild and unkempt, dead eyes, legs splayed, ankles and arms rubbed raw from fighting your bonds. You see it in a nicely framed shot, him towering over you, backlight by the stove light. It’s not a triumphant pose, it’s almost protective, slightly hunched over you. That’s when you feel him gently guide you to one side of the bed and secure a wrist in a loop of rope. He leaves you shuffled to the side and disappears from your line of sight, you don’t bother to move or fight or even look for him. You close your eyes as his fingers work to untie the arm bindings. Done with fighting you possum, limbs heavy and unsupported, pure dead weight. Yet even with his injury and slight build he seems to move you with ease, with the deftness of a person who is used to taking care of others. Still he holds tight to the wrist not yet bound to the bed as he pulls it to the new loop from the final corner of the bed. A lump forms in your throat, you are truly exposed to him. Eyes still closed, his weight on the bed shifts away from your side. You crack open one eye to sneak a glance in his direction. He’s busied himself with inspecting the rope burns on your arms, tutting to himself before getting up from the bed.

That’s when you start screaming.

Full body convulsing on the bed you make a scene. Kicking, flailing, choking on the fabric in your mouth. Hair is matted and in your eyes and sticking to your snot. It’s horrifying. You mean it to be horrifying. Every moment to convince him you are a human, whatever he is going to do to you isn’t worth it. Every moment you feel violent and on edge, an inhuman strength building in your body.

It all happens in an instant but feels like minutes. The fabric gag shifts just enough to unravel in your mouth, your labored breaths are just hard enough to pull the edge down the back of your throat. The panic shocks you still. You can’t breathe. Eyes wide and fixed on the man who is now slumped into your greyish green loveseat, you can’t talk. You can’t even make a sign to him that you are choking. Darkness creeps into the sides of your vision, already distant street sounds get farther away. You hope against hope that he notices, that he cares. There is a ringing in your ears, the thundering of a distant storm, then nothing.

Pain.

And air.

And warmth.

You cough. It burns your lungs. It is delicious.

You cough harder, mucus ejecting from you. Your abs hurt.

He’s staring down at you.

He has kind eyes.

“Why?” Your voice creeks and your lips are tacky from the adhesive of the duct tape.

The man pulls your head to his stomach in a rough approximation of a hug. Lumpy fabric pressing into your face and your cheek hits a cold slightly damp spot on his tshirt. His chest heaves above you.

“Seonghwa, my name is Seonghwa,” his voice trembles. “I just need a place to stay. Please. I’m so scared and I don’t know what I’m doing.” He sounds near tears and his entire body shakes.

“Untie. Now.” Your voice sounds cold and hollow, even to you. He lets your head down from his torso and occupies himself pulling the slip knots over your wrists. Your hands scrabble up his leather jacket, nails leaving half moons as you pull him to you, forgetting your bound ankles and twisting your spine uncomfortably. You’re not sure why you’re holding onto him like this. Clinging to him, arms around his neck, you can sense the shared hesitancy, uncertainty.

“I’ll leave tomorrow night, I promise. I promise,” he continues to repeat his last words until they lose meaning and form. His arms stay hovering, never closing in on you, giving you space to decide.

“Legs too.” Your hamstrings twinge and burn as a reminder of your splayed out state.

“Ofcourse, ofcourse, ofcourse,” he mutters into oblivion.

Newly released you inspect your limbs. Traces of rope burned into you in angry red stripes. The worst is your ankles, raw and bloody. While your arms may sting, it will likely only last a couple days. No matter how you think about the care your ankles will need to keep from scarring it’s hard to ignore the fact that the worst of the wounds are internal. A heat rises in your stomach, a burning fury.

Kneeling at the foot of your bed Seonghwa waits for you, head bowed, hardly the hawk he originally seemed to be. He waits for your decision, unable to look at you directly, as he should. Another person would take the opportunity to inflict the pain back. They’d be right.

“Seonghwa,” you put your palm to his cheek. It’s cool and damp and soft.

He flinches.

“Are you hurt?” Whatever you had originally planned flies out the window as he nods into your hand and melts. From hawk to kitten, man to mouse. Ungagged and bound he suddenly seems so much more fragile to you. Sliding off the bed you begin to move towards your kitchen, no matter how disarmed he seems you need protection. Your knees are uncooperative, wobbling and knocking into each other, landing your ass back on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa nearly teleports near you, hand hovering and waiting to brace your fall.

Shaking off the stumble you find a sizable knife from your drawers, one with some heft to aid you just in case, and a glass of water before returning to your bed. Grabbing the economy size bottle of painkillers from your bedside table you pop two in your mouth and swallow them. A light smack on your bare thigh you see Seonghwas hand outstretched, nudging you insistently.

“One or two?”

He wordlessly presses the tips of two fingers to your thigh. Although you offer him water he swallows both pills dry.

Both of you are utterly exhausted.

“Why?” It’s now Seonghwa’s turn to wonder fruitlessly. Of all the people you’d owe explanations to, he is at the bottom of the list. His finger ghosts over the red markings left by his rope. Goosebumps follow in his wake, hairs standing on end.

You wonder it yourself honestly. A small extraordinary act of kindness. You’d always been too soft, too willing to believe. It’s your turn to stare at the person on your bed. The most dangerous thing about Seonghwa was the element of surprise, you decide. He watches you in turn, like a hurt and mistrustful stray.

“We should swap your bandage,” you say, noting his hand pressed to his side.

“We?”

“Your sewing kit comment has me nervous,” you shrug. “Seems like it’s in a pretty awkward spot anyway.”

“Right.”

The way he follows you to the bathroom, it is clear he’s not in a space to argue with you. The mix of exhaustions, mental and physical, and pain weigh him down, the dual weights almost visibility dragging behind him. It gives you a bit of time to situate yourself in the small tiled bathroom. A full stock of hand towels, in various states of newness, a small first aid kit your parents had gifted you when you’d moved in, nearly completely intact, and of course your trusty knife. Seonghwa watches bemused as you drag out a plastic shoe storage bin full of knick knacks from beside the toilet and retrieve a spray bottle of wound wash.

“You can get nice bamboo shelves for behind the toilet, you know,” he leans casually in the doorframe.

“It’s money I don’t have.”

“I’ll buy it for you.”

“Are you my boyfriend?”

He reevaluates, “I can buy it for you.”

“You know money can’t solve everything.”

He flinches. “I can pretend. Please.”

“What happened to ‘the less you know, the less you are involved…’ huh?” You fold your arms over your chest and plop down on the closed toilet lid.

“You know what happened,” Seonghwa is sheepish, the dirty grout of your bathroom suddenly the most interesting thing in the room. His hair flops in front of his eyes which he doesn’t bother to move. There’s a definite charm to him. He should’ve tried being a door to door salesman instead of whatever it was he did. Housewives of the tristate suburbs would’ve loved him.

“Seonghwa,” you call to him, each syllable floated carefully through the air, beckoning.

The leather jacket, his carapace, thuds to the ground just outside the door. A small glint at his waistline catches the bright sterile light of the bathroom.

“Remove it,” you point the tip of your knife at the source of the shine.

“I’d never- I’ve never-” he stutters, hands flying up in protest.

“I don’t care. Remove. It.”

Seonghwa turns around unbuckling and shuffling the hostler and the concealed gun from his jeans. “It's not even loaded.” The heavy thunk of the hilt hitting the ground punctuates his words as he locks eyes with you.

“Then you won’t mind not having it.”

Seonghwa smells so good it intoxicates you. He really shouldn’t smell good. The closer he gets the less wits you seem to have. He’s like a deadly flower that draws in its prey with the promise of nectar but then drowns them in its inescapable sweetness. But he doesn’t smell sweet, it’s not a perfumed smell, just him. It makes you want to bury yourself deep in his chest.

Your hands slip under his black tank and glide along his stomach as though he were a gift that you were desperate to savor the revealing of. Even this soft touch has him tensed and ready to act at a moment's notice.

“I have to take this off to clean your wound, you know.”

“Mhm,” he inhales deeply and knits his brow. The arm on his uninjured side slides into the sleeve and down along his torso, letting you gently slip the shirt over his head and down to the opposite side of his body where the wound sat. A strip of cloth from your bedsheets wrapped around him in the middle served as his temporary bandage job. Carefully snipping and peeling the layers back you reveal the gash at his hip - red and angry, edges puffed up. Thankfully it seemed any oozing or bleeding had finished.

“Well, it’s not happy but I can’t say much more. I’m no nurse,” you continue to inch closer to the opening, inspecting for debris. Suddenly Seonghwa grabs your shoulder in an iron grip, abs tensing and face contorting. You cry out in pain pulling down and away from, twisting free, dashing to the door, totally forgetting your knife by the tub. Now you know which you are. Fight or flight, you choose the latter.

“Breath, tickles. Tickles, hurt.” He manages to stammer out, face settling between labored breaths, now sitting on the lip of your tub.

“Don’t fucking grab me like that again.”

“I’m sorry I-I-I- I don’t know what to say I’m sorry. Please.”

You glare at him, wary of the man half in your bath-both pitiful and dangerous. If he can’t even tense his abs in laughter how will he be able to support himself enough so that the water runs into the basin.

“Do you need a plushie or are you a big boy and can take it?”

He bites his inner lip and rolls his eyes, “I’ll be fine. It was a surprise.” His breathing is still labored but slower. “It hurts but I can do it.”

Wordlessly you approach the tub and sling your legs over the lip, silently thanking your past self for wearing shorts to bed. You pat your thigh, gesturing for him to lay back against you, draping his top half over the basin, lower half still dressed and stuck out into the bathroom. Tucking a hand towel into the waistband of his underwear you start up the water, testing it with the back of your hand before detaching the shower head and aiming it over the tear in his side. You can feel his back tense, shoulders reflexively curling inward. Somehow he remains calm and noiseless, knuckles clenched white. Water rushes over him, some traveling down your legs, pink hue gathering around your feet and swirling into the drain. A moment of compassion for a wounded creature, a potential Darwin Award winning episode in your life. Eventually Seonghwa’s expression relaxes, breathing slowly in your lap.

“Thank you, my night nurse,” he speaks softly and smiles, eyes closed. You should kiss him, his lips look lonely.

“I really think you need to go to the hospital.”

He shakes his head against your thigh with a hum. The two of you sit there a few minutes more, the whine of the water pressure in the pipes and splash into the tub filling the silence. Seonghwa looks peaceful for the first time since the beginning of the ordeal. It feels wrong to appreciate him like this but the intrusive thoughts won’t stop flooding your guilty brain. Remember to google stockholm syndrome -- the thought flits through your mind. Mindlessly you find your arm maneuvering the shower head over to Seonghwas head, carding through his hair with your fingers, wetting the mop on his head. Nails gently scratching into his scalp you can feel his head get heavier as though you had hypnotized him by washing his hair. You sigh too, he’s like a kitten. Flighty but easily soothed. Legs drenched with runoff you finally turn off the water, Seonghwa still weighty on your thighs. Curse your general love for humanity.

Craning his neck Seonghwa starts to attempt to sit up with a groan.

“Just sit, we need to let the wound air dry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest to weigh him back down. You sound surprisingly stern and robotic, but it doesn’t seem to phase the man sprawled across you and your tub. The redness at the site of the injury seemed to have been tempered slightly, much to your relief.

“Neosporin?” He cracks an eye open and searches your face.

“Hypochlorous acid, once it’s dry. Then I’m going to circle the red area with a sharpie to see if it grows larger and then we’ll put some gauze and tape on you okay?”

He nods and waits patiently for you as you work on him. Seonghwa barely even flinched as the sharpie tickled his side while tracing the borders of inflammation. He even stood as you bandaged his side, gently tacking the gauze to him as you taped the edges, planting a kiss on the middle as your mother had done to you as a child. The two of you could’ve fooled the world into thinking you’d always been like this.

But there were sirens, ringing ever so faintly in the distance, to break the spell. Sirens to remind you how you got here. Sirens that made Seonghwa hunch, tense.

“You should move,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah. Planning on it.”

“Sorry.”

“You know you say sorry a lot for a home invader.”

Somehow the bandage and damp tousled hair make him look even more attractive. You could swear up and down that it was some sort of hormonal imbalance. Maybe it was the position he’d assumed on your bed, shirtless with his knees bent and akimbo. A textbook picture of manspreading, usually obnoxious and yet he made all the difference. Or even it could’ve been the hazy look in his eyes, a mixture of relief and appreciation, a look you’d not gotten much in your life.

You could turn him in right now.

If you just take the phone on your nightstand all you’d need to do was hold the emergency call button down for 10 seconds.

Your heart skips, eye flicking to the peaceful Seonghwa, studying you.

“Do I still make you nervous?” He looks concerned.

“Yes.”

“Would it help to sit down?”

You still haven’t moved an inch, stuck in the bathroom doorway. The simpler solution for getting help would be running and banging on a neighbors door. Or just running into the street, to one of the many corner stores.

Seonghwa groans as he gets up and shuffles towards you, palms up as an offering of peace. Your ability to run safely closing in as he approaches.

But you stay anchored in place and take his hand. Slowly his hands creep up your arms until you are chest to chest. Seonghwa can feel your body quake in his arms. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. His thoughts loop around that phrase, spiraling, fixating.

“The thing on my waist? It’s from hopping a fence. I got caught and sort of impaled I guess. If that helps,” he feels his ears burn with embarrassment. You can almost see the red flush creeping up his neck from where your head is buried. “Now the money…see that I can’t tell you but…you are the only one who has been harmed in the uhh…getting of the money.” He chuckles as he moves his hands from your shoulders, winding his arms around your mid back, cradling you. “I really try not to hurt anyone. I really, really try.”

Your body stills and softens, adrenaline slowly working its way out. Seonghwa feels your weight push back into his palms resting softly along your spine. He stiffens and prepares for the drop, the collapse, but you simply bend into him. It’s almost romantic.

“Would you kiss me?” It’s an absurd question springing from an intrusive thought. A terrible deep dark thought. And yet the phrasing makes it feel silly coming out of your mouth. Almost a request but not quite there, a part of your rational mind keeping you from asking outright.

“...kiss? Like now?” Seonghwa stares down at you, expression unreadable.

“...in the grand scheme of things. Would you?” Your cheeks heat up under his eye and you burrow your face down into his shoulder again.

“Yeah. I would. I could now, if you want.”

“Mmmmaybe,” you hum in reply.

His lips brush against your forehead, “you kissed me where it hurt so…I’m returning the favor I guess.” Seonghwa drops his embrace and returns to the bed, satisfied with his attempts at calming you. He smiles slightly to himself, watching you follow him and sit warily on the side. Your bed is a single; a sensible size for a single girl in a studio apartment. The two of you fit uncomfortably to each side, nearly sliding off in an effort to keep space and modesty. This gesture feels strange after the events of the night, yet comforting to the sliver of your mind which was made up against Seonghwa.

Seonghwa notices goosebumps trail up your arms, your slight recoil and hesitancy to touch the torn covers. “You could hold me if you want. I’ve been told I run warm.”

He wants so desperately to go back in time. To undo all of the past few hours. To choose another alley to run down. Another apartment to try the window of. The guilt settled heavily on his chest, he’d chosen the absolute right apartment for his escape. Poorly guarded, close to the alley, single woman inside with her defenses lowered and a heavy sleeper. If only he was a different person. He was what was wrong. If it wasn’t him it could’ve been much worse, the thought made him shudder. Harm coming to you, the person who had so carefully washed and wrapped him, his muscles tensed in response. No, it was best that it was him.

Seonghwa does run warm. Or maybe all humans do. At this point you aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed if either statement was more true. Still, the heat radiating from him as you tentatively press your spine into his undamaged side feels good. Hand resting on the hilt of the knife beneath your pillow, Seonghwa’s slow steady breaths hypnotize you. In and out, expand and contract, fullness and emptiness. His breaths gently press him closer to you. Sinking deeper into the bed you once thought of as your liferaft the tension in your body drops like an anchor into the sea. Almost nothing could pull you from the weight of weariness that had set in.

That’s when you see them. Slowly rotating red and blue lights. No sirens. Sitting perpendicular to the mouth of the alleyway, blocking the road.

No way.

A heavy thud at your door echos in your tiny apartment.

No fucking way.

“Ma’am?”

A second series of heavy knocks rouse a bleary eyed Seonghwa.

“Whossat?”

“Ma’am, it’s the police, we just need a moment.”

Why can’t the goodness of humanity ever work in your favor?

“Just a moment!” you hear yourself call back in an unnaturally chipper tone.

Cracking open the door, your eyes meet his eyes - deep sockets with larger bags. His 5 o’clock shadow long into extra hours. He looks bored, or tired, maybe just generally over the whole night shift. It occurs to you that you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror since the beginning of the night.

“I’m sorry officer, I just woke up…” you hesitate, your tone is pitched higher in an attempt to sound amenable. “Is there an issue?”

The grizzled man studies your face for a second, measuring his response. “Well miss. I received a request to check in on your well being. It seems there’s been some…unusual activity at your residence.” His lips press to form a flat line, blank expression holding. Waiting for you to talk. It's hard to escape his eyes, your stomach forms knots around itself from holding the mounting ways of responding. You know he wants you to talk. You can’t talk. You have nothing to say. You have too much to say. You can’t decide what to say. Nails dig into the several layers of paint on the door, leaving small crescents in their wake.

“I-I-I-” you stutter, trying to fill the awkward air, keenly aware of the discarded gun laying casually on your floor, close enough that a few steps past the threshold would be enough to spot it. “I brought my boyfriend home for the first…well I just assumed my neighbors…well my last neighborhood…see my last neighborhood was much nicer and they didn’t seem to really…” your tongue trips over your excuses, fumbling this way and that. You can feel the officer’s eyes boring holes in your face, watching you boldly flail in your entryway. Suddenly the intensity of the man’s gaze is gone, moved onto another target. A hand gently placed at your waist slides across your stomach and pulls you into a back hug.

“Sorry sir. Next time we will…uh… ‘experiment’ at my place,” Seonghwa’s voice is gravelly, you can almost hear the slight smile curling at the corners of his lips. You can certainly feel the subtle knowing nod he gives the police officer. He cradles you closely, almost protectively, chin propped on your shoulder, as though you were a real couple. Your fingers reflexively search for his hand, weaving into the space between his fingers.

Seonghwa prays silently that the old misogynistic ‘bro code’ had not missed this man’s ears in teenagerdom. The slight nod to a wild night in, the cheeky eyebrow raise, even down to mussing the back of his hair up and appearing only in his boxers and t-shirt, all carefully calculated to sell a story to this audience of one. “Baby,” his voice teasing, “you didn’t tell me your neighbors were so interested in you! Did you think I’d be jealous?” He plants a small peck on the side of your neck, tickling you, a poorly suppressed giggle erupting to break the tension. It feels believable to him. It feels real. The officer’s expression softens.

“I’m so sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” The short lived smile faded, you stare sheepishly at the floor between yourself and the policeman.

“Ack, I figured,” he huffs. “Just get to sleep you two.”

“Must be a slow night if you’re responding to this kinda call,” Seonghwas winks back at him.

The officer rolls his eyes and shakes his head, turning away from the scene. “You kids have a good night.”

Door closed, you heave a sigh and shake off Seonghwa’s limbs to turn to face him. He’s smirking. And also less dressed than you left him. And annoyingly cute. Maybe even sexy. Heart jumping to your throat you re-evaluate, definitely sexy.

“You lied for me.” He continues smirking, tongue caught between his teeth.

“Not really.” You try to walk it off but he doesn’t budge, keeping you in the little alcove by the door. God why do you feel your heart fluttering?

He leans on the frame of the arch, eyes raking over you. “You lied for me to an officer of the law.”

“I just didn’t say the whole truth.”

“You called me your boyfriend.”

“You called me baby.”

“You started it.”

“Excuse me. You definitely started it. ALL of it.” You’re incredulous, flames fanning the sides of your face. Tension stretched thin like a rubber band waiting to snap. You want to grab him and do…something. You hadn’t figured out what you were going to do after you touched but you were sure it wasn’t good.

“I never lied.” He sounds so cocksure and annoying, just standing there, unaffected.

“But you started it.”

“And you didn’t finish it so what now?”

Neither of you had noticed it, the way your faces slowly inched closer and closer with every volley back and forth. Noses nearly touching. Eye crossing and unable to fully see his face you can feel his steady weighty breaths on your collarbone. You need him to admit it. Moreso you need him for yourself.

You kiss him. It’s a brief and forceful meeting of lips, crashing together with the full weight of your anxieties and frustrations. The world spins as he reciprocates with equal force, chest pressing to yours. In the fray your back ends up against the wall, arms draped over his shoulders.

“I started it,” Seonghwas eyes are half lidded, lips red and parted, waiting for your next move.

“And I want you to keep going.” You pull him by the nape of his neck to you into another bruising breathless kiss which he eagerly chases, pressing his hips and slotting his leg between yours. It’s just enough pressure to make you dizzy. Kissing him feels dangerous, ill advised. You like how close he is, you want him closer. Your hips rock of their own volition against his bare thigh.

When he moans into your mouth your brain numbs momentarily, reverting to base instinct, driven by the need to hear him again. All the sirens in your body set off at once. A bad idea. But you don’t care, you ride the rush of adrenaline to the last drop and pull away once more.

“Normally I'd fuck you right here but my fucking side…” he gasps and gulps, forehead still pressed to yours.

Staggering only slightly, you pull him blindly backwards towards your bed until the backs of your calves touch the familiar wooden framing, tumbling into the squeaky box spring. Gathering yourself to your hands and knees with Seonghwa in front of you, you indulge in him, hands trailing up the front of his torso, a known path by now but finally able to properly appreciate him; firm and warm beneath your fingertips. He’s lithe but strong, a good build for a cat burglar. You kiss right below his belly button, right about the waistband of his boxers, a smooth expanse of soft pale skin. Feeling his abs tense and release with his sharp intake of breath is the strongest hit of dopamine you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Oh fuck yes,” he sighs into a moan. Your hand slowly stroking his growing erection a small wet spot begins to form on the cloth. Mouthing his bulge you feel him throb, hips stuttering, his hands fighting him by his side. You want to show him it's okay. You know why it shouldn’t be okay but you need something to be. Tracing your cheek his nails are well kept and smooth, cuticles trimmed. Not the hands of a man who was made for violence. Slowly he shifts forward, tipping you onto your back.

“You’ve done too much for me,” he breathes heavily, carefully hovering over your lower torso. “Let me do something for you.”

Losing sense of time and place as you stare at him, he tugs your sleep shorts off with little help from you. He looks up from between your thighs, his belly pressed to the mattress, face inches from your mound. A shiver of heat spreads from your chest outward. He’s a hawk again, perched and ready for the kill. Handsome, dangerous, hungry.

Mouth hanging loosely your gazes remain locked as he lowers himself to you, face shifting again from animal to demon, making a show of flicking your clit with the firm tip of his tongue. He wants to see you squirm and writhe in pleasure, erase the memory of the pain he caused.

“Seonghwa,” you fight to keep your thighs open as you moan his name. You’re glad you know at least this much about him, toes curling and flexing.

Pleased with your reaction he inserts his middle finger, crooking upwards. Lapping at your button with short sure strokes, you feel the familiar fuzz of arousal clouding your brain. Fingers threading through his hair you push the curtain of bangs back momentarily. His eyes are closed, lids fluttering lightly as his pillowy lips envelop your slit. Lewd slurps and pops and moans fill the room, punctuated by the squeak of the bedframe, shifting as his hips subconsciously hump into the mattress.

“So tight. Gotta prep you. Don’t wanna hurt-again,” he emerges, mumbling. It sounds like nonsense to your cotton filled brain.

Nodding along you watch him insert a second finger, curling it to match and drag along the front wall of your cunt. It feels impossibly much, his long tongue, his slender fingers stroking softly against your spot. Almost as if to punish the good samaritans for calling in your very real cries of distress he adds a third finger, an enraptured wail escaping your lungs. Eating you like a starving man whose last meal is your cunt, you grab his hair forcefully, without thinking, to stabilize yourself.

“Good girl,” his guttural growl that vibrates from his lips to your sex has you seeing stars. Heels digging into the bed as your hips jut upwards, allowing his arm to snake under your ass to hold you to him.

“Coming. I’m coming. Fuck- oh god- Hwa-” your voice trembles as you babble helplessly trying to warn him. “ComingcomingcomingcomingCOMING.” Back arched your walls seizing and clenching around his fingers fuck you through your high, waiting for the crescendo to cease. He pulls his face from you expectantly as his fingers find their target. Your chest feels like it’s going to burst, abs tensed impossibly tight, you want to tell him something but your jaw moves wordlessly, connection to your brain severed. Everything happens in both an instant, your soul leaving your body momentarily as you climb higher than you ever have. With a sharp gasp you cum, liquids drenching his palm and your sheets.

“Yes oh fuck, thats it,” Seonghwa almost speaks for you, dipping his head down again to kiss oversensitive clit carefully. He’s messy, long tongue licking around his slick cover jaw and lips, three fingers still buried inside of you, slowly and subtly fucking you as you come down from your high. “I didn’t push you too much right?” A twang of concern running through his tone.

“Hwa, I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He gulps and nods.

“Cmon, what happened to the man who tied me to the bed and nearly suffocated me?”

His grin returns, “oh you liked that?”

“No. But I like this now.”

Leaning over you he kisses your nose, you can smell yourself on him faintly, his natural aroma tinted by yours. The rough edges of his bandage tickle your stomach with each breath. Both of you are breathless and starry eyed. So far from your studio bedroom that you could’ve sworn you were floating alone on a raft at sea with him.

You don’t get a chance to look properly at his cock before it's laying heavily on your mound, aligned just so it brushes over your clit. Seonghwa gazes down, eyes wide, telling you everything you need to know.

“Will it fit?” You stare up at him doe-eyed. “It feels so big.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he whispers, reassuring. Slowly running himself along you, shaft wet with your juices, the valley of your cunt looks like it can barely accommodate his girth.

“Please, I need it.”

“I want to fuck you so badly, but we-”

“Please,” you mewl, the friction building a tight coil in your core, painfully clenching in on itself. “Fuck, Hwa, please more please-” you beg in broken up sentences. Both of you move in sync, his hands pinning your hips below him, grinding into your tight wet slit. An exquisite sloppy mess mixes and marks both of your bodies in new ways. If you could just move your hips high enough from the mattress you could press him past your entrance, just the tip, it would be enough. The mere thought forces your pleas harder and faster and more insistant.

“I know but we need a condom,” Seonghwa cranes his neck to survey the room, no obvious convenient location to store a box or even a spare few foil packets.

“You don’t have?” You practically yell.

“I was--, this was not--,” Seonghwa stutters. “The last thing I thought about was fucking when I got ready tonight to be honest.”

“I’m okay. I don’t have any--I’m on--”

“You’re fine? You don’t--” you both overlap hurriedly. He is easily convinced by your assurance, letting the fat mushroomed tip of his cock slide down your slit to prod at your entrance. “You’re so fucking wet I-- if you are sure.”

Spreading your cunt with his thumbs he slides the first inch in, testing the waters. Watching you stretch around the head is electrifying. The way your walls hug his cock so tightly he nearly bursts at the seams there, huffing and puffing. What doesn’t help are your little whimpers and whines, subconscious to you but deafening to him. All consuming in his blood.

“When was the last-” he gasps, withdrawing for his own sanity for the next push.

“I don’t remember- I don’t know- please-”

A second attempt, this time almost half of the way before your pained sounds start, nose scrunching and brows knitting. Each inch that makes it past brings a sick sense of accomplishment flooding warmly into your chest. Seonghwa mutters in time with each circular pass of his fingertips over your clit. “God you’re amazing, you feel so good,” he hisses and groans. “Just a little more, that’s it, you’re doing so well, taking me so well. I know, I know babe it hurts, just be a good girl and take a little more.”

His eyes roll back in his head as he cages himself over you, pushing the final inch past triumphantly. His chest pressed to yours, the shared warmth, the sound of his breaths, the sheer closeness, it’s the first time you feel safe since the incident began. It’s overwhelmingly nice. Your chest tightens and a tear slips out of the corner of your eye.

“You ‘kay?” Seonghwa kisses your cheek, careful not to squish you below him.

“It’s so nice,” you burble.

Tenderly he kisses your nose. “Told you not to worry.”

Rolling his hips into you he barely pulls himself back before thrusting up. The deeper he pushes the more you can feel him in your guts. He lays his head on your shoulder, nose pressed to your throat to hear your small soft moans better. Time seems to contradict itself in the moment, too fast but so slow. Neither one of you wants to leave it. But hormones have other ideas. Your clit aches and Seonghwa isn’t fairing much better, a low groan spilling involuntarily from him.

“Wan’ you to cum again. gotta- on my cock,” he’s breathless as he increases his pace. You want to cum on his cock. The way it feels so complete, nestled deep in you, you want him to know how whole you feel. It’s difficult from below but you do your best, rolling tightly back onto him, sweat slicked bodies easily sliding together. Blood abandoning your brain in favor of your cunt leaves you in a haze, eyes unable to focus.

“T-touch-” you mumble, fingers wrapping around his arm to try to move it south. Luckily he gets the hint, snaking his hand down between the both of you. Each circular motion of his fingers winds you closer and closer, choruses of yes’s flow uncontrolled from your lips. It burns but you can deal with it later, for now you chase the pain back with promises of pleasure. Arms slung over his shoulder you hold him to you, more frantically grinding against each other than thrusting. Your hips kick up as you release with a small shaky sigh, muscles of your core contracting around him expectantly..

Seonghwa’s eyes shine as he looks at you, all his handiwork. Work he can be proud of. Blissed and exhausted below him, dopy smile plastered to your face. Detangling himself he leans back, smirking as he slowly drags his cock along your walls.

“Feels so good, don’t stop.” You slur.

“Can you cum again?”

“Dunno.”

He growls under his breath turning into a chuckle, “not a no?”

“Fuck I-, just don’t stop. It really,” there are words that you search for in your quicksand laden brain, wading through the muck they feel hopelessly lost to you, heavy and sluggish.

Seonghwa returns to your neck, palm cupping your breast, fingers busy playing with your nipple as he continues his long slow thrusts. Your skin collects condensation and sweat, droplets running everywhere, soaking into the sheets. Not that you mind, not that you can currently tell. The slight fray at the end of his moans is all you care about. The throb of his cock against your walls as you fuck, unhurried by the encroaching dawn.

“I need to cum,” he sounds apologetic. “Babe, do you want to cum again?”

“Mhmm,” you nod against the side of his face. “I can one more.”

With a kiss he gathers you underneath him, pulling your hips into just the right position for him to easily pound into you. Even 20 minutes prior you couldn’t have imagined taking him at this speed. Practically pressing your knees up to your ears your weary legs shake as you sob in delight. You’ve never felt so full, so overwhelmed. Blunt tip rubbing against your gspot, in this position you can’t brace yourself for the climax.

“I’m-it’s-I’m-” you stutter. “Seongwha, Hwa-”

He looks more beast than man as he grits his teeth, “I know, me too.” He loves this feeling almost more than cumming. The seconds before. The uncontrolled trembling. The power he holds as you’re folded beneath him, using your body as a means to an end.

His ass flexes, hips suddenly erratic. Your mouth is open but nothing comes out as the world seems to darken. The second you feel the first spurt of warmth filling you, you cum around him. Both of you are panting and grunting, ready to collapse. Biological imperatives working for you, your walls squeeze him dry. A mixture of his and hers cum slowly forcing its way out of you and around the base of his cock. His lips stay on your neck and collarbone and cheek, kissing softly at the skin there.

It’s cold, you’re thankful for his warmth pressed firmly on top of you. You want sleep, you want rest. Now you think you can maybe find it, breath slowing as your eyes close. He withers slightly inside of you, falling out with a soft plop.

“What do you need to clean up?”

You shake your head, “just give my pjs.”

Out of the crack of your eyes you can see him, shifting slightly to gather his bearings in the apartment again. Once again he surprises you, returning to you with a perfectly warm and damp washcloth, slowly wiping off the mess left streaking down your buttock and thighs. Things feel normal. The night is finally calm.

“If you prefer, I can give you-” he mutters as you wriggle slightly at his touch.

You hum, “no it feels good.”

“Ah-oh,” he stutters and smiles. “So you like being taken care of?”

“Not sure,” the admission is easy. “It’s not something I’m used to. This at least, this feels nice.” It sounds more sad coming from your mouth than it had sounded in your head, awkwardly tripping out with unexpected bare honesty. Not that much was left to hide from the handsome stranger.

“I wish I-no-well-” Seonghwa sucks his breath back. Helping redress you before hopping back into the bed. The birds chirp in the sudden silence. “I’ll just need a couple more hours of your care. I’m sorry.”

You must’ve rolled and wiggled and wormed your way to his side, limbs and eyelids heavy in a pleased hazy sleep. Even though the man is mostly skin and bone and muscle you manage to find the perfect valley of his collarbone to rest your head on. The day is well risen by the time you shake yourself from the blanket of sleep.

Seonghwa’s jaw is slack, opened slightly as he lightly snores. It’s cute, airy, more of a wheeze than a honk. An arm is tucked behind his head, the same knee bent up to the ceiling. You’d be forgiven if you’d thought he was simply leisurely resting his eyes instead of dozing heavily in the mid morning sun. His hair is sticking wildly in every direction, haphazardly covering half his face.

“I have to check your bandage,” you nudge him. He groans as you peel back the gauze carefully. The jagged gash isn’t worse, at least in your untrained opinion. The edges are inflamed but the redness and swelling hadn’t worsened from the untreated hours nor the vigorous fucking.

Seonghwa grimaces, then laughs. “I like it when you touch me.”

“Pervert,” you try to hold back your own smile as you spray his abdomen with wound wash to rebandage him.

He stays where you leave him, in your bed relaxing in the midmorning sun. The only sun your apartment gets. In the pool of light he looks more like a cat than a hawk, smiling drowsily. Everything feels normal, copacetic aside from the torn bedsheets and tumble of clothes that sit near the bathroom door. It could pass as an everyday Saturday morning from a wild night out. Except you don’t have those, wild nights out. It’s what you imagine a wild night out after could look like, for someone who isn’t you.

You pat around barefoot, reaching into cupboards and the fridge, grabbing the making for cereal. Two of each for the first time in a long time. The slight clattering is cheerful and bright. Seonghwa stays still with his eyes closed, slight smile passing his lips. Despite it all, you are glad you lied.

“I don’t need that,” he states simply, eyes still closed. “I’ve imposed enough.”

“Don’t be a baby, it’s already poured,” the dull clang of the bowl hitting the tiny table set for two punctuates your sentence. Hand on your hip, you suck your teeth, eyebrow cocked. Waiting. “It’ll get soggy.”

He hrmphs his way from the bed. Rolling dramatically off the side and slouching his way to the diner chair you’d bought from a liquidation sale. Seven dollars and virtually indestructible, a steal. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself. Steal. Seonghwa sits, lowering his face close enough to the bowl that when he eats he practically speed-shovels the mixture of crunchy cereal and sloshing milk from the bowl directly into his mouth.

“You’re so strange, you know that?”

“Didn’t seem to mind that last night,” he gulps down a mouthful of chewed bits, “when you called me your boyfriend.” He pauses again, finishing off the rest of the bowl by picking it up and tipping it back into his mouth.

You can’t stop thinking about him. His slender body curled around you, warm skin to warm skin. How good he felt filling you up. Toes curling reflexively to a point, the butterflies in your stomach feel more like flying bricks rocking around your intestines. His bare leg bumps into yours beneath the table and you jump clear out of your chair. Seonghwa also retracts noticeably, jutting backwards from the table to give you space.

“Are you okay? It’s just me, just my leg. I swear I’m not trying anything.”

Your heart breaks a little as you watch his face wracked with concern and guilt. Arms outstretched, fingers spread wide to indicate he means no harm. “I’m fine, just startled. Not used to another person being there I guess,” you try to laugh it off.

“Did I make you like that?”

“I don’t think you helped.”

Seonghwas eyes plead with you, big dark irises searching for an answer he can’t find. “Can I? Can I help? I need to-”

It hurts to watch, “you don’t have the time,” you snap. You hate yourself for feeling sorry for him. For taking care of him. Still you can’t help yourself, swirl of emotions twisting and writhing like a snake in your gut.

“But if I did-”

“But you don’t.”

“I could-”

“You can’t. Seonghwa. You can’t. You made a choice before you even knew my name. Here are your consequences. I don’t know what carefully crafted plan went awry that you ended up here in my apartment but what’s done is done. If you turn back now I’ll look like an idiot so you have to keep going. If it isn’t to fulfill your original goal, make it so that this nightmare wasn’t for nothing.”

Seonghwa can barely manage a whisper, “I wasn’t all bad though, right?”

You groan, throwing your head back dramatically. “No okay, you fuck great but really…? Really?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still thinking about it,” he says from the corner of his sheepish half smile.

Your thighs squeeze together as a flush of heat migrates between them. “Yeah thinking about what kind of idiot fucks someone who held her hostage in her own apartment.”

“Thinking about what kind of idiot misses his window of escape for a second round.” Seonghwa’s hand rests just millimeters from yours on the table, so close your brain swears it can feel the sparks of electricity at the tips of his fingers. Your pinky twitches, smacking his.The room is still humid from the rainy night in a way that sits in your lungs and clings to your skin. Fingers laced with yours, he tugs gently, most of a suggestion to come closer, guiding you to his lap. You swing a leg over confidently, bulge in his boxers evident to the both of you.

“Second? She must be really dumb to let him.”

Seonghwa hums a reply, lips already pressing to your collar bone. For as angular of a man he appears to be, he’s soft when he’s nuzzled into your chest. Your shampoo smells different when it’s in his hair. “Can we take your shirt off?”

Everything that was intense and heavy from last night has lifted. Soft sighs and giggles emanate from both of you, his fingers bumping into yours clumsily as you both reach for the hem of your pj top. Normally you’d cower close, or at least that’s what you did with the last person. With him, the promise of impermanence gave you courage.

Tits out, Seonghwa’s eyes blown wide, you roll your hips back and slip your hand into the waist of his boxers, just enough to pull his cock free. He fits snugly between your folds as you rock back and forth over him, grinding your swollen sex against him.

“Did I die?” His eyes are hazy as he rakes them over you. “God I must’ve died. But you feel so real.” Seonghwa holds your hips as he reciprocates, unwilling to tear his gaze from your face. You ride him like that, his jaw slackening as he forces his eyes to focus on each part of you for even just a moment, hands exploring further. A memorial for the journey ahead.

Your hand drifts to your clit, rubbing in small circles as you cautiously inch down his impressive length. He looks good below you, eyes flicking from cunt to face.

“That’s it, nice and slow baby, I’m not in a rush,” he says, practically drooling on himself.

Finally to the hilt you rest your elbows on his shoulders with a groan, rocking yourself slowly in his lap. Leaning in you kiss him gently, full lips plush and warm on your own. “Liar,” you whisper, “you have to leave.”

“Pretend I don’t,” he volleys back, arms snaking up your back and pulling you chest to chest. “I’m not going to leave babe.”

The way he fucks you almost has you believing it. Close and slow, almost unbearably warm in the morning light despite the lack of sheets. Sitting you on his cock like a throne and encouraging the wind of your hips, filling every inch of your warm walls. Whining and groaning as they lazily squeeze around him appreciatively. His mouth works wonders on your breasts in a way you’re almost sure no other partner has. Alternating between the soothing pressure of his tongue lapping and the sizzle of his teeth just barely nipping at you. More bruises, at least these would be easier to hide.

Seonghwa’s breathy moans increase in pitch as his movements lose coordination. The desperation in his grip on your hips is dizzying. You ride him faster, thighs burning as you try your best to finish the job. Your core is ready to implode but the exhaustion quickly overwhelms you.

“So-close-” you mumble through gritted teeth, desperate huffs escaping your nose.

Arms wrapping around your middle you feel the table shift behind you. Seonghwa grunts as he stands up with you on him, placing you haphazardly on the surface, used plates clattering. Gathering your legs around his hips he pistons like his life depends on it, deep into you. Your toes curl as your muscles spasm, back arching as you cum on him. Seonghwa collapses over you, hips still jackrabbiting as he chases his high. His face buried in your neck, he spills inside of you with a choked whine. “Should’ve asked-” he begins to slur apologetically.

“It’s fine.”

Seonghwa only lays there for a minute or so, waiting for both of your breathing to slow. The cotton pad of his dressing is stained red. So is the inside of your thigh.

You state the obvious, “you’re bleeding again.”

Cleanup is eerily quiet. No sirens, no giggles, no sighs. You work efficiently as a team, as much as it pains the both of you. Seonghwa would’ve pampered you, you know that. Even in the still air, his small touches reveal his thoughts. He washes the dishes, even the ones he didn’t use, wipes down the bathroom sink after you re-wrap him, gathers the sheets into a disgraced bundle.

“Would you be my girlfriend it if-” he shatters the silence suddenly, watching you stuff new pillow covers onto your pillows.

‘I don’t know, what will tell our kids? Oh hey when daddy met mommy, he broke into her apartment and they fucked like bunnies.”

“We could just lie. Our parents probably did that.”

You stop mid shove of pillow, “maybe omitted details but I’m really not a bar hopping type and you don’t seem like a Sunday morning coffee shop sort of man either.”

“I could be for you.”

Dropping the pretense of making the bed you stare at him. “You have to leave. Don’t make me think otherwise. I know you have to leave. And if you want any hope of taking care of me I cannot know where you are going or when you’re going or any more than I already know. Got it?”

Seonghwa looks defeatedly at the floor, head hung low. “No, I know. I got it. I just-”

“We met, that was bad. We fucked, that was good. Leave it at that. For both of us.”

Seonghwa waits for you to busy yourself with dinner. Back to him as he slinks out the door. He’s never been good with goodbyes. He doesn’t even look as he catches the door to stop it from slamming into the frame. Ten bands sit under your couch cushions waiting for you to discover. Yet another five are more conspicuously placed beneath your pillows. He wishes it were more. For everything. The sirens start up again, the sun still sits at the horizon.

“I should look up stockholm syndrome,” you think to yourself as you push your food back and forth on your plate. “Is it even real?”

Carefully you wrap the second portion in an old takeaway container and shove it into your fridge. Leftovers were always good to have. You’d forget they were there and your friend would discover it and throw them out three weeks later. Time passes weirdly for those two weeks, days dragging but weeks flying. You hoped Seonghwa made it, wherever he was. The thought made you nauseous. Everything made you nauseous. Still, you watched the sun rise and you hoped he was looking at the same sun somewhere.

[aspenthetwin]

Aspen and Cynthia Lore

TW: Heavily Implied CA (Child Ab*se)

Their mother was a very religious woman in life. She spent her days attending church and spent her nights on her floor praying. Her heavy bearing beliefs caused her to see everyone in the world not like her as demonspawn sent from the firey pits of Hell. She changed from being a sweet kind soul to a self appointed vigilante against those she deemed as evil, however, the true evil was manifesting itself in her heart. This change in character and her heaven seeking ways became a horrible equation for an afterlife.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

She couldn’t believe it. That demon who seemed to be the only one willing to help her down here…the only friend she had..the one she thought she could trust and love. He left her. He left her when she needed him most. He left her brokenhearted and lost. He left her alone. How was she to go on now?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

She was already 5 months along into her pregnancy with his child when she saw him again. The problem with this was that she saw him on the television; last in line with the supposed other demon lords. He was a demon lord, embodiment of a deadly sin, avatar of sloth. He must have manipulated her. He tempted her away from her purity and seduced her into his sugar coated poisonous grip. Once he’d had his way with her, he threw her out as trash.

‘Of course he did.’ she thought to herself, ‘He never truly loved or cared for you. He is a demon lord. He is not worthy of your love’

Her mind was made up from that moment. That monster would no longer occupy any of her time or energy.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

What the fuck was this?! Not only had she been left alone to raise this child, but she now has to raise two children?! This must be a punishment sent from the Holy Father above for giving in to temptation. Looking down at her two newborns, she felt all the pain and grief begin to come to life once more. Then all she felt was rage. 

Rage

Rage

Rage

Rage

Cries were ringing throughout the room when she came to. She looked down once more to see the bruises already forming on their necks. She thought she would feel upset over them being hurt, but she feels nothing. These are not her children. No child of hers would ever be born from such blasphemy. She could fix this however. She will cleanse them of their shame and filth. Then, and only then, will they become her children.

•••••••��•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Mama had another bad day today. I hate it when she has bad days. She blames us for it. Today might have been the only day I believe that though. One moment I was sitting with Cynthia, playing and the next I was being dragged to the bathroom by my hair. I only had a few seconds to process what was going on after I had been shoved against the counter. Mama locked the door behind us, likely so Cynthia couldn’t get in and help me again, and then the worst part began. 

I could hear the water flowing from the sink, but it sounded distant. I felt my hair being yanked, forcing me downwards. It was cold. Why did it always have to be cold? I hate being cold. Eventually the cold wasn’t so cold anymore. I felt dizzy for a moment before I realized I could see in front of me again. There was coughing. I was coughing. Why is she yelling at me? I didn’t fight this time. What did I do wrong now? Another shove to the counter. Then I finally saw myself in the mirror. 

Mama was gripping my wet hair, still shouting insults at me. My eyes were red and my face covered in droplets. I looked pathetic just like she said. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted to go play with Cynthia again. Then she said it again; that phrase she says every time she brings me here:

“You look just like that filth. No matter what, you will always look like that lowlife, worthless, nobody.”

I never knew who she always said I looked like. I watched her in the mirror. I looked away after she opened the door. I didn’t like that sound. I’ve never liked the sound that rang out after Cynthia looks at our mother. I waited until she walked out before I helped Cynthia off the floor and led her back to our small room. I was tired. I could tell Cynthia was tired too. We laid down on our mattress and fell asleep.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Noise. There was noise. The noise was the sound of footsteps approaching our room. “Oh no, mother is coming.” I quickly opened my eyes and turned to Aspen, who was still sleeping. I tried to wake her up but she wouldn’t budge. I could feel my heart pounding as continued to shake Aspen, desperate for her to wake up. Fearing for what was to come, I smacked her arm just hard enough to wake her up. I grabbed her hand and squeezed as tight as I could right as the creaking of the old door fell upon my ears. 

Mother stood there like an angry god, ready to burn everything in her wake. Preparing myself, I looked over to Aspen to find her staring numbly at our mother. I waited for the screams, the pain, the tears, but they never came. She just stood there staring at us and then she walked back towards the door before turning to us. Her only words were the ones to seal my sister and I’s fate:

“I can’t cleanse you two of your shame, so instead, I will contain it and make sure you two never infect anyone else.”

She left. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding until I heard the lock on the door. She locked the door..and now my sister and I would die in here.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Diavolo called us all to the castle for some reason that he won’t tell us. Couldn’t it have waited? I was enjoying my dream. We finally reached the castle and were ushered inside by Barbatos. Usually the guards let us in. If Barbatos is here to greet us at the door then it must actually be something important. We entered the throne room when I heard that stupid boisterous voice from that stupid man. 

“There you all are. I’m glad you all could come on such short notice.”

Then Lucifer responded, “Of course. It seemed quite urgent. What is it that you have called us all here for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ah yes. We have found and taken in one of the rebels that have been terrorizing our denizens.”

Is that why he wanted us here so fast? To tell us they caught one of the many people in this group? This could have waited.

To my surprise, he continued “We searched her house for any other possible rebels there, but we found something else instead.”

He then looked behind him and whispered something before two children stepped out from him. As I studied them, I realized two things: these children looked scared, and they looked like me. “They look like me.” I could barely complete my thought before someone spoke up.

“Who are these kids and why do they look so much like..Belphie?”

“We have concluded that these two are, in fact, Belphie’s daughters.” Diavolo’s response went in one ear and out the other, his voice distant. All I could focus on were the two pairs of eyes staring back at me; one set a golden honey color, and the other a mirror of my own. I didn’t know what anyone else was doing after that. Was there even anyone else here with us? It doesn’t matter. All that matters are the two people standing before me.

I kneeled before them both, asking for their names. “I’m Aspen, this is my sister, Cynthia.”

“Aspen and Cynthia, such unique names.” I found myself thinking. 

“My name is Belphegor. But you two can call me dad, or papa, or whatever you want. Would you like that?” They nodded, finally lifting their heads all the way to look at me. I held my hands out for them to take, but they flinched back instead. “What happened to them to make them so scared?” I couldn’t help but wonder. “Don’t worry,” I began, “I won’t hurt you guys. I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.” That seemed to do the trick as they both reached out for my hands respectively. I gently pulled them in and held them in a tight embrace. 

When we all returned home, I made sure they were comfortable and taken care of properly. As the day ended, I climbed into bed and helped them both onto the bed with me. After I had said goodnight to each one, I wrapped my arms around them both and waited until I heard their soft snores before I fell asleep as well. It was the best sleep I’ve ever had, knowing I had my daughters tucked safely right next to me.

Just in case you might not be able to tell, double dotted lines mean POV switch. The first part is following the mother of the twins. The second part is Aspen’s pov, the next is Cynthia, and the last bit is Belphegor

Hope you all enjoyed

[kairoseas]

What was Sukuna doing inside Megumi during the month time skip?

Was he training for the fight? Playing video games and eating people?

Dressing up Megumi in his best clothes

Realistically? Breaking him down. Telling him objective lies until he believed them and quit fighting so hard to get away from him; his own blessing shouldn't be trying so damned hard to flee his loving embrace. Training him to fight physically, trying to sink his soul so far down that it was unreachable to anyone but himself, so no one could hope to take him away, no one could reignite that fire that drove Megumi to fight for that righteous bullshit that drove the brat. Nothing ruins his fun like seeing him buy into the foolish belief that helping people did anything.

Indulged in all the food available now. Some of it human, which he had to force down Megumi's throat, because every time he tried to eat it, Megumi would see fit to fight back in the beginning, trying to throw it up and spit it out by any means. Sukuna just grabs his mouth and his nostrils, forcing him to swallow or choke to death. A few seconds go by, then a minute, and Megumi can't take it. It was swallow or die. He swallows the human meat in his mouth and gags, retching violently on his hands and knees, before Sukuna lets him go completely. "... Good boy, Megumi." He coos manipulatively, as tears roll down Megumi's face in disgust and rage. He absolutely had Uraume hunt him the most perfect outfit. He tried on many of them, looking in his reflection, fond and fawning over his lover's face and how he wore everything, the way it hugs and encases his lean frame. Doting on him in the meantime, just little phrases here and there. "What do you think, hm? Does it please you? ... You should just agree with me. We'll be together for a very long time, you and I." Exasperated by his silence, a stubborn and foolish refusal to speak or communicate. "... This? " Pause, turn, look himself up and down before furrowing his brows, pinching them at the middle in distaste. He can read Megumi's hazy, exhausted thoughts, as combined as they are together. "... No, you're right. Disgusting. Ugh." "... You should be more thankful for my faith in you. If I had not had an inkling of your strength back then, then I would have let you rot with the rest of them. But here you are, safe in my domain. ... Don't pout, or make a sour expression. A God loves you. The least you can do is be a good devotee."

[bestworstcase]

Genuinely curious about your thoughts- what do you think would happen if Oz got dunked in the Grimm pools like what happened to Salem? Do you think he'd just die or would he come back as Grimm? If he did become Grimm what do you think would his reaction to that?? The concept of Oz getting Grimmed is very fun to me (for angst purposes)

to preface, my read on salem’s transformation in the pool of grimm is that she remade herself and put herself back into balance. i don’t buy the ‘corrupted by the ontological evil’ angle suggested by ozpin’s narrative via jinn and i think it matters a lot that salem was carrying the pure essence of creation in her soul when she did this, because the brothers had ripped destruction-creation apart to impose an artificial and harmful separation between two forces that aren’t truly separate, and salem recombined them into one—that’s why jinn phrases it in the particular way she does, that “this force of pure destruction […] created” her.

so the first thing to consider with ozma is that in the event he, like salem, jumped into the pool of grimm, there would be no unity-of-opposites synthesis. i do not think that anyone besides salem, or someone who had been made immortal in the exact manner that salem was i.e. drowning in the fountain of life and creation, would be transformed in the pool of grimm. THAT SAID i also don’t think submersion would be fatal necessarily presuming this is an otherwise canon-compliant scenario.

when the gods cast salem into the fountain, we see her hit the water and sink into what seems to be an infinitely deep pool, and then she drowns and… wakes up hitting the water again, only this time it’s maybe an inch deep, and the light-refracted-through-water aura glow is playing over her hands. similarly, salem leaps into a bottomless pool of darkness and the grimm-water tears her apart and puts her back together again, new; in the present there is no single pool but a multitude of scattered puddles, and salem meanwhile seems to have an infinite, portable supply. what happened? she absorbed the divine power in the waters.

salem IS the fountain of life and the pool of grimm now. the wellsprings of pure light and darkness no longer exist in a tangible form; they’re mingled together in her soul. what’s left in the land of darkness is just grimm ponds, as in ponds of raw liquid material to make grimm. in 8.2 oscar gets splattered with the stuff while unconscious, aura down:

and suffers no ill effects whatsoever. it doesn’t even leave a mark. so my first, perhaps controversial answer to “what would happen if x character fell into a grimm pool?” is… probably nothing, besides maybe drowning or being eaten by any partially-formed grimm that happened to be swimming around in it. i think whatever lingering traces of power there are just enough to make new grimm coagulate. unless it happened to be boiling like the grimm river, in which case the answer is they die horribly.

for… synthesis of any kind to occur now i think you need either 1. salem or 2. a catalyst in some form of magic (in the broader sense encompassing aura/semblances too, not the in-universe sense). you need an active force, not just passive submersion, something with will behind it—i think salem’s Desire for change, for an ending, was crucial to her transformation, even if she didn’t get exactly the outcome she expected.

so with that in mind: what happens if ozma, specifically, jumps into a grimm pool?—because while he doesn’t have the waters of creation in his soul, he is afflicted with the corrupted-ascension curse light inflicted on him and THAT would, i think, interact with the destruction in the grimm pools.

true ascension is rebirth/renewal. for afterans this is a literal metamorphosis into a new form with factual memories passing into dream, for remnant’s people it takes the form of spiritual reawakening and emotional healing.

ozma’s curse corrupts this process in two ways, first by removing his ability to choose who and what he becomes such that he is changed to fit a predetermined purpose rather than changing in accordance with what he wants, and second by inserting him into someone else—so his reincarnation becomes a destructive, painful ordeal that erodes his agency and breaks him down.

grimm are destructive beings created by The Brother Who Understood Destruction, which is to say that their true nature and purpose is something more along the lines of hunger and driving change.

so the question is: what happens if you combine miserable enforced stagnation with a wild force of change galvanized by misery? well… that’s one way to break a curse, albeit one that i imagine would not be pleasant for ozma or his host, if the grimm were to essentially eat the curse out of them. and then what? presuming that destroying the curse would forcibly separate ozma from his host, then you have a disembodied human spirit floating around in a grimm pool and we’ve seen, with penny, that a disembodied human soul will just. spontaneously manifest a new body, except doing that in a pond of eldritch goop seems like an effective way to end up grimmy… although i think probably more in the vein of cinder than salem, for the reasons discussed.