#the poor girl is hanging on by a thread

[ailuodi]

I see a lot of people complaining about Choi Se-Kyung being dumb because nothing she's doing is changing her mom's past and thus, her existing in the future.

For me, I think we need to remember: we are talking about an 18 years old that was about to unalive herself. It didn't matter if she was in the present or the past, her mind was set. The only reason she changed her mind is because Ha Eun-Gyeol made a comment about her mom never coming back. And so this kid decided to go with the flow at first, then thought "I can change things!" without really thinking about how her mom's life is not changing. Maybe she's hoping that one of the two "pretendant" will go to the US and woo her mother? I don't think she's really thought further than "if my mom's first love loved her back, I wouldn't exist, and I need to make this happen."

She is most likely depressed, on top of suffering from anxiety. Her goal is still to stop existing. She's not thinking anything through, she's just hanging on, until she decides she's done.

[cathymee]

soooo fucked up that the loss of her child was what drove margaret to kill her father and then being given a statue of ephraine was what drove margaret to not take her own life

[yojeongin]

it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l

→husband!mark lee x f!reader | ft. jaehyun + jungwoo

genre: smut, angst, tragic romance, miscommunication, marriage au, 2000s au

synopsis: all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm denial, cum swallowing, jealousy, toxic relationship/love, insecurity, vomiting, work field harassment, mental health deteriorating, self sabotage, smoking, mentions of poor eating habits/self care, pregnancy, mark is a horrible husband. this is for the people who only know toxic and bad relationships, woohoo (...)

wc: 19.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

part 1 | part 2

© 2024 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other social media’s. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: it's been a year since I last updated the happy together series, I guess I lied when I said the stupid girl incident wouldn't happen with this one but hey it's finally over! this is an epilogue for happy together but can be read as it’s own part. yn’s character here isn’t the same as happy together, this is a completely different yn!! fun fact I came up with this before happy together lol

‘No one wants to think about it. About how your love may run out or hang by a thread because it’s that big, not able to be supported by one person alone. To even have the fleeting negative thought race in your mind. No one wants that.’ — April 25, 2004.

Life was sweet, it was a new romance never felt before (at least in your case). The type to make your heart swell at any sweet action. He was tender, sweet, and attentive. Whatever you asked of him, he’d have for you, ready and in your hands. Mark used to go out of his way for you but slowly the small things became a burden and any little task, he never wanted to do anymore.

Even so, now as you sit on your knees in between his legs, hearing his grunts from the pleasure he is enduring, you put off your own pleasure for his as long as the satisfaction of him feeling loved continues.

With his cock stuffed deep in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Mark held onto the messy comforter while you kept going. Your nose hitting his pubic bone, staying still for seconds just so he could feel the warmth of your throat around him.

At that feeling Mark allowed a disgruntled moan, loud and perfect. His hips buckle forward, causing you to gag. Tearing up and finger nails softly claw his thighs. That’s the most damage you allowed yourself to cause him. His hand wraps around your hair, the sting of his pulling mirroring the one of your clawing, he was relentless unlike you.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so good, fuck!” He groans, eyes tightly shut. “I love when you gag around me, it feels so good. As if your throat still hasn’t gotten used to me after all these years, pretty girl.”

Raking your nails on the lower back of his thighs, he hisses. With his hands holding onto your head, his thrusts get harder— almost as a counter attack.

The hand you had on his thigh comes in contact with his balls, pinching them where he likes. Playing with and twirling them. Mark’s thrusts become slow but harder, hitting the back of your throat more painful, nothing you wouldn’t take unwillingly, though. He knows you can and will take anything he gives you.

That’s how you knew he was extremely close. When his thrusts were rough and slow, the grip on your hair became tighter when he pushed you further down, becoming extra sensitive to the way you handle his testicles. 

“Ah~ y/n… Please, just a bit more. Ahh…” He pants, stopping his thrusting momentarily until you pinch his scrotum, to which he whimpers loudly. Some sweat had accumulated on his neck and forehead. Glistening, he looked so beautiful, much more than he already is. Mark’s eyes were closed but he could feel your lingering gaze on him. He could feel the penetrating stare that looked at him with adoration.

When he couldn’t handle it furthermore and his thrusts against your throat were becoming sloppy, Mark’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at you, giving you one of his most tender smiles. You never got used to the way he looked at you. Even when he gave you his coldest glares, there was always a sense of adoration to them. 

So one can only imagine the warmth and giddiness you felt when he looked at you this lovingly. Lovingly enough that he removed one hand from your head and placed it on your cheek. Thumb caressing your flesh, soft strokes contradicting the ones abusing your throat.

“What I wouldn’t do to be like this with you forever.” The words contradictory and cheeky to his caring caress, almost conniving. 

Mark’s hips jolted forward, disgruntled moans left his lips but his eyes never left yours. Even after he screwed them shut momentarily from pleasure, he’d always open them to let you know how good he felt. Head thrown back, trying to regain his breath and calmness after the orgasm you had just given him. His hand strokes your head softly whilst you gaze up at him lovingly, your head resting on his thigh. 

“Morning,” your voice snaps him out of it, looking down at you with a smile. “Really good morning.” He chuckles in a breath, leaning down as much to give you a soft and tender kiss, tasting himself on you. Pulling apart, Mark stands up, helping you up from the aching position you were in. Rubbing your knees momentarily to soothe the pang. 

It didn’t take long enough to forget his care and make his path to the kitchen, you trailing behind like a lost puppy, ignoring your ache just to start the day for both of you. “Hey, can you do me a favor?” Your soft voice squeaked against his ear, making him turn to you slowly. A gleam of hope on your part as always.

“What is it?” You could see his emotions coursing through, already looking for excuses as always. “Just— can you pick up an order at Cafe 7 Dream? It’s for Venetia’s pregnancy leave party but I don’t have time to pick it up. Please? During your lunch break?”

Your eyes still glimmer with hope knowing well what his answer already is. “Oh… baby, you already know I can’t. I don’t even know where it is.” He ran a hand through his hair, walking past you after giving his famous apologetic pout. 

Back to him, hopeful smile faltering, slowly closing your eyes disappointed but not surprised knowing the predicted outcome. You sigh quietly, basking in the background noise he made. Opening and closing the fridge door and pans moving around the stove top as if he truly had intentions to do something.

“I guess, yeah… it’s fine I’ll figure it out then.” Defeatedly, you make your way to him, watching him play with the knobs as if he didn’t know how a damn stove works, you only interfered when he opened the egg crate. Rushing to him you took it all off his hands, his faux complaining making you roll your eyes, him oblivious to how it wasn’t playful anymore. “Go shower, you’ll be late.” Still, your voice held no annoyance. 

He chuckles, completely oblivious to your feelings as always. “Or we could shower together…” he suggests, not over the morning rendezvous. Wanting more and more, never satiated.  

You didn’t have it in you to smile at him, shaking your head and dismissing him as you crack the eggs over the pan. He giggles, towards the bathroom, placing a playful slap to your ass on his way.

The walls were thin. You could hear the sound of the toilet flushing, the water running, and your thoughts bouncing off of them. Torturing you with the words and feelings you try to repress all the time in order to live in peace and in love with him.

You loved him. More than anything, to the point it was extremely painful despite him being yours. You’ve fought hard trying to make your love for him unconditional, there was no backing out anytime.

Moments like these in which he shut down your pleas, all you could do was restrain yourself from the ill thoughts your tired brain tried to throw at him. You couldn’t let anything get in between the both of you, not even yourself. 

So instead you rather stand in front of the stove, moving the spatula around to make him his beloved sunny side up eggs. Funny enough, you hated them but if he wanted you to love them, you would.

Coming out of the bathroom, steam painting the mirrors and windows. Mark dries his hair with the towel sitting atop his shoulders, a sniffle leaves him, pulling the chair from the dining table, smiling at you with a ‘thank you’ rolling off his tongue while you set down his dishes and drink right in front of him. 

“You’re not eating?” He questions the moment you sat beside him with just a pouch of Konjac Jelly. You could only smile and shake your head, suckling on the nozzle to get out the contents. You weren’t eating then and there, you just didn’t want to tell him you were getting breakfast with your colleague on your way to work. 

Mark nodded before digging in on the yolk with his spoon, that expected smile on his face.

He talked and talked after every bite and chew. Mark was well aware of how much you liked to hear his voice, especially in the morning before he left you for work. Head resting on your palm as you watched him stack his plates, a smile plastered on your lips from his presence alone. 

“Want me to drop you off? You’re gonna have to hurry though.” The clanking of the bowls on the sink as he passed water over them knowing you’d wash them eventually; making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and finish getting dressed. 

Shaking your head as a response, he waits for your explanation. “I’m walking the entire week, don’t worry about me. Maybe I'll take the bus.”

How couldn’t he when both of your jobs were a tad bit far from home. It didn’t help that most of the time you got out late. At least he was thankful Jungwoo could drop you off whenever he wasn’t able to pick you up or simply didn’t feel like it.

“You know I don’t like it when you ride the bus, it’s always filled with… men at these hours. Take care, okay? Call me once you arrive or if something happens.”

Despite your smile of approval, what was he going to do when he can barely take care of himself?

Mark’s lips fell against yours the moment he opened the door to the apartment, towering over you for a few kisses before pulling away. “By the way, can you pick up my suit from the cleaners either later or tomorrow? I have a meeting at the end of the week.”

He was giddy asking you for a favor, clutching his backpack, ignoring the way you tried to not let your emotions show through your face. “Yeah… I’ll do it after work.” Your soft voice, trying its best to hide that tinge of bubbling vexation.

Mark smiled, a giggle leaving his throat whilst his hand caresses your cheek. “I’ll see you at night, baby.” You couldn’t answer, he had bolted towards the elevator. Only the daily bittersweet taste lingers once again.

Shutting the door behind you, your eyes immediately travel to the pile of dishes he left for you on the sink, not even allowing your sighs to escape by how familiar this scene has become. It was rather frustrating for Mark to not notice your obvious signs of unhappiness with him. He knew you loved him, perhaps more than he loved you, which he tends to ignore to not throw himself off.

But that love he thinks you have was blinding him from all the realities of how dysfunctional the relationship was. It was pitiful that his friends were the only ones to actually notice them.

“Markie, morning!” Johnny’s cheerful voice booms against his ear, hand softly patting the younger man’s shoulder as he signals to follow him and Jaehyun to the break room while handing him a cup of coffee. 

Mark returned the greeting to both of the men standing in front of him, conversing as if he didn’t see them almost daily. From joke after joke, Jaehyun’s phone beeped constantly, the other two ignoring it as he checked it with a giddy smile plastered on his face; Johnny asks if they’d like to get lunch during their break.

Mark immediately agreed to the offer, taking some of the last sips from his coffee. They spoke about restaurant options but upon Jaehyun not answering, rather typing, the blackberry keys louder than his coworkers, the two turned to ask again.

“Jaehyun, you’re down for lunch?” Johnny questions, making his way towards the trash can, depositing away his cup, the eyes on the ‘7’ icon turning to Mark. Jaehyun hums in response, putting his phone away before actually speaking. “Uh, maybe next time. I have something to do.” An apologetic smile, Johnny understanding but Mark lets out a teasing chuckle. 

“Lunch with a special friend?” 

“Actually, I’m helping your wife.”

He didn’t want to make it obvious but Jaehyun put enough emphasis on ‘your’. “She asked for a favor and I always say yes, so...” Jaehyun shrugs, sipping the last of his own coffee.

The air was shifting to hostility the more Mark’s expression began to change, slowly but surely. His eyes followed every move Jaehyun made, ignoring how all the 7’s glared at him, even his own. Johnny was no fool, if Jaehyun couldn’t feel the building hostility, Johnny was clearly feeling and seeing it. His eyes advert from both men as he watched how quickly a mood can be annihilated.

“Always? What do you mean, always?” Mark turns his back to the other two —almost to shield himself from the accusatory numbers—, throwing away his not empty cup and going to the sink to wash off the stickiness from the coffee that spilled on the sides.

The second oldest man mustered a shrug, taking a cup from the water cooler and pouring some in to get rid of that coffee taste on his tongue. Bitter coffee taste, the one lacing Mark. “I mean, I can’t say no to her… if she’s busy and can’t run an errand she asks me to run it for her and in return she bakes me a cheesecake. We all win!” Johnny smiles at Jaehyun at the mention of the desert and his unconvincing naivety.

Mark didn’t speak, his mouth forming an ‘O’ at the realization that the reason you always baked was not for you or your coworkers but for his friend. For doing something you had originally asked of him. Just in the past month you had baked six cheesecakes and all of them after you asked him for a favor that he turned down. All this time he thought you were just baking for pleasure but now he knows Jaehyun helps ease your stress. Jaehyun, not Mark.

“I’m gonna head back…” Johnny’s voice broke him out of his train of thought, the elder’s eyes adverting from his two younger friends before opening the door. Jaehyun announces that he’ll follow behind, leaving Mark to his own thoughts for just a second.

One could call that the start of his demise. If anything Mark would’ve been better off knowing you did everything on your own but now he felt an unjust slight resentment that you ran to one of his friends. Guilt, if you will, for his own faults.

He didn’t let the thought go the entire day and it didn’t become better once you had arrived back home with groceries and his suit in hand. Worse off, he saw you struggle with the heavy items but he made no effort to help, rather analyzed the components in your hands. Contrary to you, upon seeing him, a warm smile spreads on your face. Putting everything down and going up to him to envelope him in an embrace and a tender kiss.

“Hi…” your breathy voice showing obvious signs of agitation. 

“Hey… why are you so late?” He questions, accusatory for something he’s not sure what he’s looking for yet; a minute frown as he looks through the contents of your grocery totes. Cream cheese, graham cracker, sweet condensed milk… a pit in his stomach formed, a growing feeling of confusion followed.

“Another cheesecake?” He questions, taking out the items and starting to put them away. To say you were taken aback was an understatement, your chest swole and you felt some relief seeing he was actually helping. You nod, holding onto the back of a chair to catch yourself. Mark hums, turning to look at you. Upon seeing how sunken and dull you were looking, his expression turned to one of concern.

“Have you eaten?” Mark asks, his hand reaching to caress your cheek. “Yeah! We had a dinner party for Venetia’s leave.” ‘I told you about it..’ you want to add. No matter, you knew it was futile with how he hums in response. It was true about the dinner part but you hadn’t eaten there, Jungwoo and you had decided to blow it off and go to a soup bowl restaurant instead.

He hums again, putting away all the other groceries and leaving just the cheesecake items. “Seventh cheesecake this month isn’t it?” 

His piqued interest sounded hostile and cold, eradicating any sense of relief that he cared. “Yeah, why not?” Responding with a smile and knitted eyebrows, Mark didn’t add more. In turn, he took his items from the living room to the bedroom, opting to continue working there. 

Looking at the empty spot he left, a sigh left your lips before continuing to fulfill your part of the deal with Jaehyun. You didn’t know if the sigh was from relief or grief. Regardless, his care was too good to be true. 

The next morning he had woken to your spot on the bed empty and cold, a building resentment and loneliness starts to grow when times before he didn’t feel them. Odd. 

Giving himself a few minutes of rest time until he decided to get up and do his daily routine. By the time he had reached the table, his breakfast was covered to keep the warmth in, glowering when he noticed it was slightly warm but getting cold. A note on the side of his dishes. 

‘Decided to head early. Sorry in advance if the food gets cold. Love, y/n’

A small heart next to your name, Mark smiles to himself. As he ate his breakfast, his concerns and the slight jealousy he had gained overnight dissipated. He felt foolish for questioning your relationship with Jaehyun. What was there for him to be jealous of? Hell, Jaehyun was taking care of the burdens he didn’t want to, that’s a win-win situation, no? Jaehyun gets his treat, you remain content, and he isn’t bothered. Yeah, he can now think clearly and see that’s fair. Nothing ever comes out of your close friend being nice and considerate of your wife, right? 

Hmm…

Nevertheless, Mark shakes his head with a goofy content smile whilst he drops his dishes in the sink, passing cold water over them. You picked up his suit yesterday and today it was hanging, freshly steamed furthermore. His shoes clean and shiny by the door, food you cooked for him in his system, and overall a lovely note you wrote him. Mark knows you love him and only him, what a stupid little preoccupation yesterday was.

“Dumbass.” He chuckles to himself, squeezing a plushie he had gotten you that ever since, you left on the bed, your smell on it; you’d always be near him and oh how he loved that security. Surely he has to let you know how he adores your love.

Walking towards your desk to look for whatever piece of paper, he sat on your chair, opening the drawers and searching for at least a sticky note.

Upon finding the nearest notebook, Mark pulled it out along a pen. Opening it to where he could find a clean page; he stumbled on multiple pages of frantic writing and numbers written all over. Sometimes they went down and sometimes they went up, if the number was higher than last, a large ‘x’ crossed it in red. He didn’t think much of it, maybe something to do with work statistics?

Curiosity still got the best of him, he’s never seen you write messily. Everything you’ve written has been tidy and neat, so this was interesting. Flipping through the pages, he found two lists. They read the same thing but the one on the left had more x’s whilst the one on the right had check marks, sometimes nothing.

Pick up cleaners,

fix the leak in the kitchen

pick up order from cafe 7 dream

find a new car inspection place

pick up Venetia’s leave cake

Those were all things you had asked him to do and things he had told you he couldn’t do on account of all the excuses he made. All striked through, ink bolder and fresher the more recent the task was. All those crosses were for him and he figured all the check marks were for Jaehyun.

Some of the stuff seemed too intimate for Jaehyun to do for you. Picking up the cleaners? Fix the leak? Find a car inspector?

Jaehyun had no responsibility to find any of this stuff for you but there he was doing what Mark couldn’t and that jealousy he felt yesterday was back again. That meant you hadn’t picked up his suit yesterday, right? It was Jaehyun who had done so and his grubby hands must’ve left oils for you to steam it again?

God, no… he was being irrational again!

The more he flipped through the pages, Mark read the small and longer paragraphs. Most of them written frantically and showed obvious frustration. It seemed to be completely full of vent paragraphs. You wrote down your desperations and thoughts, often seeming angry and saddened. He cared for all that but they became unreadable the more upset you became as you went on. 

Few things that made his head pound and chest start to rip apart were how many times he read two names over and over: ‘Jungwoo’ and ‘Jaehyun’. You met them through him, he had brought them into your life but now he was finding that to be a mistake. 

Ironic, isn’t it? You spoke so well of them. Every paragraph regarding them was neatly written and cohesive. For the most part you were just thanking them for making your life easier.

‘Keep forgetting to look for new posts, Jungwoo has been helping but he seems kinda down when he does.’

‘Dinner coordinator keeps bringing the same catering and it’s growing tiring, seaweed treats are hell. Thank god Jungwoo took me out instead. — 03.29.08, 22:37.’

Last night’s date. You had told him you ate at the company dinner but instead went out with his friend and didn’t think to tell him, opting to lie about it. He knew you loved him but now he was questioning if the amount was just as big as he thought.

‘Wonder if Jaehyun is getting tired of these favors and cheesecakes. I don’t think he even finishes an entire one in a month and I’ve baked seven for him, I fear for his fridge. It’s not as big as I thought now that he moved. Nevertheless, thank god I can count on him to actually do these favors for me.’ 

The last part stung horribly. It didn’t seem to be a jab on him from how you wrote it but he took it as such given he always did something wrong when you asked him to just so you would stop or he’d make excuses for the same reason. He now took issue with you preferring Jaehyun’s and Jungwoo’s help over his. 

He also hadn’t told you Jaehyun moved apartments so there was no reason for you to know how big his fridge was. It stung more that neither of his friends told him about the close friendship they held with you, his wife. 

The last note on the paper is what caught his attention; ‘Lunch with Jungwoo at Cafe 7 Dream, 12:30 today.’

It’s only 08:35 in the morning as of right now; he got dressed and put away all your stuff trying his best to make it seem like he didn’t rummage through. As he buttoned up his shirt all he could think about was going to said cafe and seeing what it was all about. A part of him told him to stop being stupid, you and Jungwoo were friends too given the company you two work in, so a lunch shouldn’t be bad. But he couldn’t shake off this uncertainty.

His day went monotonously. From the moment he made his way out of the apartment, to his daily drive through the freeway with a clear view of a big ‘7,' not drinking his daily coffee with his colleagues, to now being back in the car, looking at that same ‘7’ he sees daily while he roams for a parking spot.

Whatever was playing on the radio was static and the air around him stuffy, not even the rolled down windows being able to aid him. It was around 12:53 in the afternoon when he had arrived and parked a few spots away from the vast window of the cafe. Bringing down the sun visor, fingers strumming on the steering wheel, and his lips pursed, eyes roaming the area— Mark had spotted you and his friend in the outdoor section. 

His initial jealousy wasn’t present right now, he was mostly focused on the image that had never been presented to him: you were visibly upset. Throughout your six years of being together, you always remained calm and even when he spewed vile things towards you during one-sided arguments you never cracked.

Maybe that’s why you’ve lasted this long. He could say whatever he pleased and kept off his chest while you never gave him a negative reaction. For the most part whenever you didn’t respond in the arguments he’d angrily walk out of the situation to go meet with his friends while he left you to scribble your feelings onto the journal he stumbled upon just today.

Your arms flailed, hands forming into claws that whenever you were spewing something that angered you, clung to your flesh, leaving dents on it— must have been that intense if he could see those forming. Your hair was disheveled but your clothes intact besides the pantyhose you were clawing at earlier. You didn’t look dull anymore but you did look on the brink of angry tears.

In contrast to you, Jungwoo leaned back on his metal chair, hair kept well combed, suit intact and ironed, with a shit eating grin on his face as he nodded with everything you said. His words were slow, helping Mark in reading his lips and only being able to read just that sentence: “Let it all out, you don’t deserve this.” Every time he said those words, you’d slump over the table, head resting on your hands and nodding to yourself.

The perplexed expression on Mark’s face never left. His eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, leaning in against his wheel as if any of that would help him listen to the conversation. It worsened when Jungwoo took a small box from his pocket, handing it to you in which you’d give him an apologetic smile for ranting to him while also being thankful.

He didn't understand where all this came from. You have always been so calm, never letting things affect you let alone smoke. Hell, you're the reason he stopped smoking but here you were doing what he used to do with his friend.

At this moment he didn’t understand why he had rushedly gotten out of his car and inside the building. All the courage he mustered to go inside dying whenever he saw the both of you stand up from the table after paying.

His heart was palpitating in horror. He couldn’t excuse why he was there this time, he told you he didn’t know where this place was so it would only worsen your already horrible mood. Not to mention, he had nothing to say. How would he start the conversation? “I know I’ve lied to you about this place but what the fuck is your deal with Jungwoo and Jaehyun? What’s your journal all about?” No, he can’t let you know he’s been snooping, let alone have you think he’s jealous.

Mark could only follow behind a group of people walking to the counter, hiding amongst them and hoping you stayed enthralled in your conversation to not notice him. At least he was thankful he could finally hear the conversation but that dissipated the moment he heard Jungwoo’s voice.

“If you keep pushing away and shutting off your frustrations with him this won’t end well. You can’t just conform to keep him with you and let him do all he’s doing. You can’t let him act the way he does and hope he changes without asking. You know what my grandma would say? If you don’t speak, God won’t hear you. And he’s not hearing you. Are you not miserable in the relationship?”

It stung. It painfully stung deeply in his heart that he truly felt he was having a heart attack right now, cardiac arrest— whichever. It sounded oddly familiar.

“Mark says, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.’ So which is it?” Jungwoo laughs, shrugging. “Seems God can’t make up his mind or he's fucking with us just because he can.”

Sadly for the both of you this was only the start of your demise. As for the following weeks, Mark had begun to dig deeper into this madness he was slowly learning he had created. Every time he was home alone, Mark began to read the notebook he had found. Your writing didn’t become any less incomprehensible but he was starting to learn what certain loops meant.

He wouldn’t say your writings were enjoyable, rather more concerning than anything but this is the closest he’ll get to truly knowing you. It still baffles him that after six years of being together, you were capable of hiding this much from him. The only time he could recall you actually being mad was the time both of you crossed paths with one of his childhood friends.

The atmosphere turned hostile and tense as the older male reprimanded him for not inviting them to his wedding to which Mark said he did, he even gave his mother the invitation directly to give to them. The look the two shared had made your insides churn, in that instance you wanted to cut your own chest to relieve that sting within.

You could handle a lingering look and his friends' questioning remarks whenever speaking to you, but what killed you was that it took him a week to regain his dignity after he bid him goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The words: “They long to see you.” Cascading from his lips, but Mark smiles tenderly and awkwardly.

Mark only recalls you giving him blank stares and taking a while to answer him, conversations non-existent unless he started them. But Jungwoo got to see you tear your desk down, shred paper after paper, and cry in agony at the same time that entire week, knowing well what the older man had meant, you weren’t stupid after all, he’s not the only one who’s read someone’s secret stash of letters. 

That’s the only time he thinks you’ve been mad at him or resentful enough. If only he knew how many fits Jungwoo has experienced and cleaned. But while you might not be foreign to an empty bed, Mark was. When he felt your side of the bed still neatly made and the duvet cold, a sense of fear made him shoot up. 

He had gotten home before you that day once again, trusting that Jungwoo was giving you a ride not long after he arrived like always. After a few hours of working on some data and analysis to the point of not being able to eat the dinner you had woken up early to cook for him. Mark had decided to rest for a while not thinking of taking a nap until his eyelids feel heavy and his slumber commenced.

That was around 6:43pm, now it’s midnight with no signs of you in the bedroom and if he knew anything from those six months of living with a married couple— one of the spouses was up to something.

That’s where his fear rose and his chest started to constrain his breathing. You would never do anything to hurt him, right? Mark knew you loved him. Yes, you love him, you’d never do anything of the style. You're not her.

You're not her...

Opening the bedroom door with such force; he startled you, jumping once the doorknob slammed against the wall. His fears dissipated the instance his eyes laid on your sitting figure. Crouched over your desk with a pen on hand and arm covering the pages of that same notebook. While he was relieved to see you, now he was worried of what else you could add to wreck his nerves.

“When did you get home?” His raspy voice questions. You shrug, taking his presence, closing the notebook and shoving it into one of your desk drawers. 

“Maybe an hour ago? Jungwoo got quite drunk so Jaehyun took a while to pick us up.” 

Mark knew what jealousy felt like, he’s experienced it in the most hateful way and over all these years he trusted you enough to never feel this strongly ever again but his friends were starting to test his patience. It may be subconscious and a self inflicted fear but Mark knows what friends can do. 

“You didn’t say you were going out with Jungwoo.” That pitch of irritation laced his tongue, every word getting louder the more he shook his slumber away. His eyebrows furrowed unconsciously. He really didn’t want to have any reaction but he can’t reap what he sows.

Mark always started like this when an argument would ensue. You could handle his vile words and reproaches but you had a presentation tomorrow and the last thing you needed was for him to treat you like shit at midnight. You’ve had enough of your supervisor for that. 

“Company dinner meeting, Mark… I told you about the presentations.” Your voice was betraying you with how whiny it came out. But could anyone blame you? You had been ecstatically talking about this for almost a month, even Johnny knew about it. It just seems the man you married couldn’t be bothered enough to remember. 

Mark tried his hardest to pick at his brain and recollect the memories of you telling him. It was of no help that you hadn’t written about it in your journal either. All he had left was to deflect. 

“You could’ve called me to pick you up, though? Why did you have to call Jaehyun?” 

“Would you have gone? You've been sound asleep the while I've been here.”

Your tone took him aback, this was the first time he could hear some attitude and mocking in your voice. He didn’t know whether to be happy that for once you spoke to him like this or angry that the mention of Jaehyun was eliciting this response, almost as if you’re defending him.

Noticing the look of confusion on his face, you retracted any possibility of continuing this ensuing argument. Just like him, you’ll avoid any further action.

“Go back to bed, love. I’ll be there in a bit.”

He didn’t listen, just sunk his feet deeper into the tile, processing the whiplash of your actions. On the contrary, you walked past him to the bathroom, forgetting to turn off the stereo system, hoping your nightly ritual would help you not think about these happenings. Him? He’ll sulk like he is not at fault.

‘Oh, I think you’re holding the heart of mine. Squeeze it apart, that's fine…’ The melody mocks and lulls him goodnight. 

A similar situation happened days later. The days building up to that night, you hadn’t asked him for any favors. Times before he’d be glad but now he grew weary. The only outlier was that you weren’t baking, so had the rewards gone further than sweet treats? How far could you go?

No! Stop! Mark knows you’d never do anything like that, you’re not her, that’s a huge reason he fell for and married you. You ar– were perfect.

But then, why haven’t you asked anything of him yet? Was it truly futile now?

Deja vu hit, the bed was cold beside his own spot, your plushie thrown to the floor (the only difference), no sign of you, but the second he swung the door open, there you were. Sitting mindlessly on your desk, scribbling things he couldn’t see but knew he would struggle to understand later. He approached slowly, the only light source the lamp before you.

“What are you doing?” His voice is curious and soft in comparison to last time. You shrug like before, scribbling. “Nothing.” Precise yet somehow cold. No matter how much closer he got, by only a step, you shut the journal, throwing it in your drawer and turning the lamp off. He didn’t know how to take it, your actions swift and nonchalant but regardless you still made the effort to kiss him goodnight on the way to complete your night routine. 

01:48 read the stereo system. Mark hums, this night’s song mocking him again while his eyes look into the darkness and curves of your desk, directly at the drawer that held all your grievances. He contemplates it but it’s no use tonight.

‘I love him so much, it just turns to hate. I fake it so real, I am beyond fake. And someday you will ache like I ache.’ He chuckles, turning it off.

The next day was enough. You had left before him again, no reason as to why either but later he had learnt that Jaehyun had gotten into the office late with a Cafe 7 Dream drink in hand and not bought by Johnny.

He had taken your absence as an opportunity, looking at the positioning of things in your desk carefully to remember how he’d put everything back. Slowly but surely, he took the journal out, opening it to the new pages.

With the journal in hand, he steps into the kitchen, sitting on the dining table where his warm food rested. Warm enough to let him know you left not long ago. Effortlessly, he uncovers it, sliding the plates towards him and standing up to get a drink. The ice-cold water pitcher sat in front of him and he began his tasks.

‘Guilt floods me every time I ask Jaehyun and Jungwoo for favors. Is this excessive? Poor Jaehyun looks so tired, I think I have to ease it. He may claim it’s fine but how much cheesecake or danishes can someone eat without feeling the weight of burden grow as fat around his muscles?’ “What a way with words,” Mark scoffs to himself, accidentally biting the inside of his cheek, his teeth scolding him.

‘Jungwoo on the other hand is probably exhausted from my complaining. I see this as my karma for all the times I told friends to leave their bummy boyfriends. I get it now. This feeling is too strong. I can't just end it, I think… Regardless, I do need to stop with the favors, hell they’re easy so I can do them but it’s nice to not hear them complain or make excuses instantly. That’s selfish of me but I deserve some self indulgence from time to time. No… not at their expense at least...‘

00:59 at the time you began writing that.

He didn’t like that. He’s read enough for the past few weeks but nothing like this. The bummy part even less.

He won’t deny that he wished your food got stuck in his throat and suffocated him so he can drop dead with your journal in hand and true guilt arises in you when you find his body but that’s not him, that’s his jealousy and anger speaking. Maybe he was getting influenced by your entries, this is something you would say just not to him.

Mark scoffs again, sighing heavily, and pushing his chair to get out. He leaves the food uncovered and dishes dirty to complete his morning routine. Despite his anger he puts back your journal not counting on the wet back from the water pitcher but flaws are meant to happen when you’re letting frustration blind you. 

The day went in a blur from then until lunch. Snapped out of his trance by Johnny shaking his shoulder and their manager next to the taller man, Mark gave the two a fish out of the water look. One that made his manager pinch the bridge of his nose but shook it off while Johnny on the other hand gave him a questioning look. The man wasn’t stupid, he could see how distant Mark had been and at most kept to himself despite trying to act like everything is fine and bond with him and Jaehyun, but he’s not that great at covering the heart on his sleeve.

“Here, take the intern with you and ask for the lunch platter at Cafe 7 Dream, the meeting is in less than an hour and we still aren’t prepared.” The manager rushedly spoke, handing him his credit card, the gray hairs on his side seemingly growing with every word he spoke. It was a large investment meeting and he needed to secure this but he had been so careless that their hospitality was a wreck. 

Nevertheless, Mark agreed, the new intern standing behind the other two men that he hadn’t noticed her until she popped out, startling him a bit. She was young and timid, he hadn’t heard her speak but that little jump she caused him made her laugh apologetically. 

That’s the most verbal communication they had through the ride to the cafe. The radio was adamant on playing TVXQ and she enjoyed it while he focused more on the sounds the tires made and the honking from outside. Even when they arrived at the cafe they didn’t speak, if anything their expression said it all. He seemed tired and uninterested while she was indifferent with only polite smiles to her senior.

Crossing the threshold of the first doors, a familiar figure stops in front of him much to the other’s confusion when his indifference turns into a content smile. No matter how frustrated he was with what he had read, an inkling in him will always remind him of the affection he has for you. “Y/n, hi!” He exclaims, turning to you a hand reaching for your shoulder. You’re not too sure how genuine his giddiness is but in the moment for Mark, it’s the most sincere thing ever, more than you have ever been.

It’s not enough to convince you though, with your eyes flitting between him and the intern as he kisses your cheek and the other stands awkwardly behind only flashing you a quick greeting smile before looking around.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice broke the interactions, a hint of annoyance and to an extent accusatory over something that you haven’t voiced, turning to her again before looking back at him. The young girl wasn’t quite sure of how you felt but knew it was a safer bet to go order before their boss called, clenching his ass from how fast time went and he didn’t have things ready.

Clearing her throat, “I’m going to go order… The card?” She extends both hands, Mark takes out their manager’s card and hands it to her who bolts to the register. It doesn’t take Mark long to turn to you, smile slowly faltering, seeing your stare. Unsure if it’s a glare or if that’s how you look at someone when no longer adoring.

“Manager sent us to get something for a meeting.” He brings his smile back, hoping that would help. Yet, you hum and that’s all he gets. It takes a few seconds until your mouth, like a fountain, unexpectedly spouts something. “I’ve asked you to get things for me from here but you always say you don’t know where this place is.” A soft huff leaves you while forcing a smile. You can feel warmth rush from your skull down to your feet. It’s not pleasant, at all, but you can’t lose your cool right now. Not in front of him.

Perhaps if this had happened before reading your entries, Mark would have dismissed it but now he was growing knowledge of your behavioral cues and he can see your hands go behind your back, allowing your nails to cling onto your bare skin.

He musters a sigh and looks at his watch, the meeting was near. “We can talk about this later, pretty girl.” His hand reaches your arm to stop you although he makes sure to not let you know he knows about your little habit.

You shake your head, smiling up at him and going in for a kiss. “No, it’s cool, it’s fine. I just– don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later at home, okay? Okay.” You didn’t wait for a response and habits don’t die so he found it preferable to drop it. At least he’ll probably read about it in your journal soon and not have you complain in his ear.

Of course you’re not going to be in his ear when you’re on your phone frantically typing something and soon putting it to your own. Seems you’ll be blowing someone else’s ear off and it’s likely the poor loser will be Jungwoo. With every motion, flailing arm, and facial contortion– Mark knew enough of how this little thing made you feel and all he could react with was a grunt.

On weekends, by the time he began to rustle in bed and stretch, he’d be greeted with kisses and tight embraces. They often made him giggle but this weekend was much different. Once again, he woke up with the plush on the floor, a cold bed, and the window closed with only the racket outside the bedroom door. Everything was muffled but if there’s something he identified was the smell of food being made and those two laughs he’s known very well for quite a while now.

With some surprise, he jolts up. His body aches from the lack of stretching but his feet don’t care and drag him out of bed. Opening the door he’s met with Jungwoo and Jaehyun bickering about how heavy the couch was, soon to shift their attention to the movie that had been playing through broadcast TV. On the other hand he turned to look at you taking out things from a cabinet, Jungwoo rushing to help, a screwdriver in hand as he inspected the door– it creaked.

“Morning…” He greets, stretching a bit and hiding his yawn behind his arm. You make way towards him but the other two were quicker, taking his hand and continuing their greeting-shake. By the time you reach him, he kisses the top of your head, your arms around his torso in a hug like they should’ve been when he woke up. Jaehyun and Jungwoo throw each other a glance, one you both miss but that they mask with their teasing towards Mark.

“Morning? It’s nearly two.” Jaehyun begins, “Can you blame him? What does he have to do on a lovely Saturday?” Jungwoo continued but it came out rather bitter despite trying to be playful. Mark manages to laugh just like the rest of you, it doesn’t change the warning look you throw at Jungwoo who ignores it while removing the cabinet door, showing more chipped parts to it.

“Can you help me find something, then?” Mark dismisses the other two, looking directly down at you. Without hesitating you nod, walking to the room with him, your grasp on his torso not falling, rewarded with a tender smile of his. Unbeknownst to you two, the other pair give each other a glance again, although this time it lingers on each other. Disappointment and exhaustion painting itself on their features before going back to the favors.

The wooden door shut behind you two, Mark makes way to the restroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, leaving you situated on the bed and confused. “What are we looking for?” You question with some excitement as if this was a task you truly wanted when making him happy was enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” He finally speaks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hair strands damp. “They’re just fixing some stuff.” You ease softly, smiling up at him as he stares at you. 

His hand perched on your shoulders, pushing you down on the mattress and met with a surprised squeaking giggle that he shut immediately with a kiss. Those same hands wrapped around your body pulling you flush against him as his tongue works against your own.

Lips became slick by the moment but he felt so much pour into that kiss. So much longing and desire. A mixture of lust and guilt and that balance may be why he felt the need to keep you here in this room with him and not out there with those vultures.

Possession is the word he’s looking for.

His hands began a journey down your body, feeling every curve until they rested on your hips. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts, teasing their entrance under. It was enough for you to gasp quietly, feeling his cold damp fingers while he kissed you, smiling into it. He swallowed every word and protest before you could even spew them. 

Your own hands on his hair, lips submissive to his. A moan when you feel his digits fully in between your legs. You shake your head but not in protest but rather of how much you needed his touch. “Say something…” He whispers against your lips, no smile on his face. “Please…” You beg, his fingers making slow circles to not hurt you but enough to get you to lubricate and use that instead.

The scene was greedy and lustful but ultimately, he was reminded of those two out there and the reason as to why they were present lingered. Was the couch and cabinet door that important that you had to call the little crew? No matter how displayed you are for him, with your hands holding onto him, lips kissing his own, and legs open for his own disposition– Mark was still aggravated.

Softly he pulled away from you, caressing your face with his free hand while his fingers went to work. “Why didn’t you ask me to help instead of them?” He tries to seem soft spoken like his caresses but those become rougher the more he speaks. “Would you have done it?” There he knew how much little faith you had on him and the scene from a while back repeats.

“I’d go to the end of the world for you, Y/n.” Mark confesses into the kiss, neither of you too sure how truthful that was. His fingers make their entrance into you, slowly moving to elicit a response. Your body ran hot, his clothed figure above you, silently begging for you to at least believe a fraction of what he said. Those pleading and mopping eyes as he pumped his ring and middle finger, increasing the pace.

You believe me like a God,

‘You’re being so cruel.’ You want to tell him, to engrave it in his brain but it instead came out as a pleased disgruntled moan, one he took as accepting his lies. Mark smiles, head tilting to the side before lowering it to begin kissing your chest. Tongue lapping on the dents your collarbones create, whispering his ailments in them to the point of flooding and creating lakes that flowed down to your perked nipples after unbuttoning your blouse. His tongue, scorching and velvet against them. Granted was a jolt and a gasp when you felt his mouth wrap around one, biting softly to soon suction on the tit.

I’ll destroy you like I am.

Teeth grace your goosebump filled skin, kissing where his teeth left razor marks. Threatening crimson to spill only to be a false alarm, lingering pain and pleasure was all that was intended to reside. His fingers slowed the pace, blunt thrusts per second that left an ache between your legs when his palm came in contact with your outer skin, but oh how good it felt when his fingers hit your sweet spot. It doesn’t help that by this point he had inserted a third finger, the stretch causing so much more need within you.

His mouth travels up the path he created after years of savoring your body. Tongue feeding the dried stream, cool when its source disappeared to carve marks on your neck. It was so juvenile but he wanted you to go out of that room with some swelling for those two to see. Eliciting another moan from you, Mark’s free hand softly comes up to your mouth, covering and sealing it with shushes against your ear.

“Do you want them to know what we’re doing?” He whispers in the same location, you shake your head fervently, feeling hazy and growing even more needy. “Good girl.” He grins, removing his hand to hold your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. His teeth gracing your lower lip, softly nipping it to soon ease the pain he’s caused with his tongue– as he always does.

His fingers kept working their magic between your legs despite the constriction of your shorts, his wedding band no longer feeling cold inside of you but the fact that he didn’t think about removing it made you feel more aroused. To feel that metal piece unite you besides legality but through flesh and body.

Mark must have felt your growing arousal, especially with how much easier it was to ease his fingers within you. The clamping of your walls, more of a clue. In this instance he wanted to be cruel, and he attempted so. His hand stopped moving, rapidly getting out of your shorts and causing a desperate groan to leave your lips, legs quivering from the abrupt halt.

Just as he was going to cause a drought to the land of your skin and mouth, your hands took a hold of his body. Wrapping around his shoulders to hold him near, causing him to stumble slightly but not to topple over you; able to hold himself up. He won’t deny that knocked the wind out of him to a degree, feeling like in any instant he could have crushed you but pride and satisfaction soon filled him.

“Please, Mark… let’s finish at least.” You beg, your voice drunk off of his touch and whiny from how long it had been since you received anything from him. “Yeah? You want that?” He questions, making fun of you with that smug grin on his face, remaining features feigning compassion. He smiles at your desperate nod, mimicking the motion when he laughs quietly, kissing you again. 

Swallowing every single one of your silent moans that he told you to keep quiet to not let those two outside know what he was doing to you. Thing is, he did want them to know, he wanted them to see how fucked you will look once he is done with you. He wants them to see how your legs spasm when trying to walk and see how marked and irritated your neck is. He’s simply making fun of you right now and you’re falling for it because you will be anything he wants. Even a fool.

His hand slowly slides off your shorts and panties, caressing your warm legs in the process. His once calloused fingers from his creative days that he left behind now soft and tender. You held his face in between your own hands, making sure he never kept too much distance between your lips, that fresh taste of mint still lingers on his tongue.

“But do you deserve it?” Mark immediately stops his caressing and kissing, the words echoing in the cavern of your mouth, you swallow them. His gaze is cold but curious, scanning your own for a response, a witty one.

In this instance he tries to remove his touch from you, your grip on him despite how his knee teases its clothed friction against your exposed and destitute clit. He had been denying you an orgasm for the past fifteen minutes, depriving the other two from knowing what was going on but Mark didn’t care, he was luxuriating in this.

“You’re being so cruel.” You finally say the words that had been covering the walls of your brain and heart. Needy yet angry tears prickling the corner of your closed eyes. It wasn’t just lust but the fact that he was playing dirty when you’re so vulnerable and in dire need of getting something from him. For once.

“You think so?” His knee stops, eyebrow quirking, shit-eating grin falling. You nod, a pout forming, making things worse. ‘Did you really have to cry now?’ He asks himself, huffing as he shakes his head, pulling down his sleeping shorts.

“You jump to conclusions so quickly, it's always such a shame.” He doesn’t dare look directly at your face as he speaks this, knowing that the constraint and squeeze of your heart was showing. No, instead you’re met with the warm feeling of his spit falling off his tongue onto your cunt, some on the tip of his cock.

To be given something forced you to shut your eyes, a moan of relief enclosed within the four walls of the bedroom you shared with him. It became louder when you felt the intrusion of his dick within your walls, his mouth covering yours to drown those sounds. He likes to cherish these sounds for his own entertainment.

He gives you a few seconds to adjust to him, the girth feeling foreign despite how familiar you are with every inch and crevice of his body. Slowly, he picks up the pace, raising your leg to prop it beside him. “See how things turn out when you’re patient?” He asks, searching for your eyes but they’re shut.

The most he gains are pleasured moans in the crook of his neck. Mark can’t figure out how satisfied he is with that answer, so his hand opts to slap the inside of thigh, causing you to whine but reward it with kisses to his neck.

To be fair you didn’t think this could last long. Not when you abstain from self gratification, knowing that only he can bring you to an orgasm and given it’s been a while since you two slept together, an orgasm was long overdue. The friction of his pelvis on your clit while he thrusted was not helping. Just feeling that extra sense of overstimulation while his shaft filled every nook and cranny of your cunt, feeling his length bulge in your stomach.

Holding your body to his, your face buried in his neck begging him to please let you come. The hand beneath you pushing you flush against his own body. If it wasn’t for his shirt as of now, he’d be more vocal with how well you’re both feeling his cock go in and out of you. For now he’s relying on his sweet words, worshiping how well you’re taking him.

Specifically: “Feel how perfectly you were meant for me, pretty girl?” He grabs your hand holding his shoulder, pressing it against your stomach and for some reason that makes you feel like you could come any second now, begging him silently to let you. To please grant you this one thing.

“Fuck, Mark… just give me this, please…” You cry out, eyes screwed shut, lashes wet from pained and pleasured tears. You felt it in your core, you felt how bad your body clamored for some release.

“How bad do you want it?” He asks, his own words struggling to come out unlike the pre-come lining your walls. “As much as you.” You claim, fingernails clinging to his skin, a shallow groan leaving him. He likes to know how much you need him and if you were going to the lengths of hurting him to leave your message, so be it.

With every thrust, your nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. Whether he was picking up masochism or basked in the pleasure of the sadism he inflicted, Mark felt it. He felt how he gave out before you. Spurts of come followed with desperate deep moans that you swallowed in dire need of your own release.

But he was cruel. Very fucking cruel that the second that he stopped spasming and decorating your walls, his actions halt. For a few seconds he holds his position, head on your chest trying to relax his body full of adrenaline. If he was to look at you, he knew your face would beg him for your own release.

After a minute or two he pulls away slowly, taking his shirt off and reaching for the wipes inside his night stand. He warms them with his breath, moving them around to disperse the heat, only to lay them flat between your legs to clean off anything that fell out (although not much), propping your legs up and laying some pillows behind your back so you could rest for now.

Tongue poking his cheek before sighing and turning his back to you. “That’s cruel.” He didn’t say anything furthermore, his voice harsh and cold. Locking the bathroom door behind him and leaving you sprawled on the bed, arousal immediately terminated and the only feeling was of regret for saying what you did and letting things go this far. You couldn’t cry either, the other two would probably cut you off this time for good. So you’ll deny your body from letting out its emotions again. Afterall, Mark has made you be so resilient in that aspect.

Jungwoo’s and Jaehyun’s tasks were complete by the time Mark had gotten out of the shower, lunch too. The entire time underwater he spent it beating himself for the decisions he’s made to let things go this way. A month ago he was content thinking his wife loved him despite his flaws but Jaehyun’s big mouth made him unravel slowly that he was doing more harm than building an eternal home. Mark was resentful, he’s not going to deny that. He hated how quickly theatrics and how easy things he saw as fine can fall.

It stung more that you were laughing uncontrollably with the other two, seemingly neither had anything to mention of the marks on your neck or the completely different outfit you have in comparison to the shorts and blouse from earlier. Hell, Jaehyun is sitting in his chair rubbing salt on the wound and you are not saying anything upon noticing Mark; it sucked the life out of him. A slug in a bath of salt.

“Sit, I’ll fix your plate.” You smile at him as if nothing had happened in the four walls of the bedroom, your conformity noticeable. By this point he had taken the cold seat he was unfamiliar with. Sitting across from you was not something he was accustomed to, not in his own home at least, but here he was, watching two men who actually do drop everything for you. Two men that were his friends first, cracking jokes just to make you smile and laugh at which you did, enough to hunch over, something you haven't done with him in a while. 

Mark had blocked out the conversation completely, watching your moves and theirs. Your facial expressions and where your hands landed from time to time. That deafness fell when you placed the plate before him. The presentation made it obvious that others had gotten to your food before him. The mixture of ingredients painting the canvas of his plate faster than prior times when he was the first to cut through the masterpiece of your dishes. This time it was tampered and by the looks of Jaehyun’s still neatly moved around plate, he was the one to break through first.

Throughout lunch Mark tried his best to not speak, only replying when spoken to or agreeing in some sense. Things got worse when your cell phone kept buzzing and buzzing uncontrollably on the kitchen counter that made the other two give each other a glance, this time, not gone unnoticed by him and piquing his interest further.

The incessant buzzing continues, enough that Jungwoo sighs before lolling his head to give you a weird look. “Is it that dick?”  

‘Oh?’ Mark thinks to himself, an eyebrow raising as he begins to chew slower. Your glare towards Jungwoo to hush him is futile when Jaehyun joins. “Haven’t you told him to stop bothering you after work?” He sounded angry, the type of rage Mark should have, not Jaehyun. In his mind: Jealousy and that made his feelings worse.

How selfish.

“What dick? What are you guys on about?” Mark was so annoyed and frustrated at this point that venom laced every single one of his words, spraying it as he flayed his hands. Your silence made it worse, more painful was that you did so while Jaehyun and Jungwoo took it upon themselves to explain. The two, immensely tired of you not saying anything, of not speaking up.

Jungwoo goes first, he knows, they work together for Christ’s sake. “What’s his name? Ah, whatever… Y/n’s floor colleague has been bothering her for a while, you should know.” He frustratedly shakes his head, fork digging into his plate without noticing the look Mark throws at you. “Yeah…” He mutters, eyes never leaving you, all knowing he’s lying and upset.

“You should really report him, Y/n-ie.” Jaehyun breaks through, forcing Mark’s neck to snap and look at him. He was just making things worse because all Mark could feel was his lunch rapidly collecting in his throat. Cutlery dropping from his hands.

‘Y/n-ie’?! What an insolent fuck! That’s what Mark thought of Jaehyun. How dare he use a diminutive for you? Who the fuck did he think he was? Not even he, Mark, your husband called you that. What a fucking asshole.

How selfish.

A coward too, he wouldn’t know how to react either way. Instead he revels in your words as a distraction. “My boss seems to like him a lot. The only one getting in trouble would be me.” You sigh, fork moving food around. Mark looked between you and your actions, you noticed him, that you took a few bites to make him stop.

“Why don’t you apply to where we work?” He suggests, chewing what was on his fork, now using it to point between him and Jaehyun. Foolish to not grasp yet how that would mean seeing Jaehyun more and having it rub in his face that even under the same roof you’ll run to him for favors.

You liked the idea, it was easy to notice how much you perked up at the fact that he suggested being together 24/7 no matter the different departments.

Jungwoo had other plans, “Then you’d leave me alone.” He pouts childishly. On other occasions he’d laugh too and call him cute but he doesn’t think he can see Jungwoo as fondly as before. “Move to my floor instead.” He continues to test the waters but is met with a kind giggle and shrug from you.

The afternoon transpired with finishing lunch. Jaehyun had insisted on cleaning the dishes while Jungwoo the pots. Mark on the other hand sat on the couch, eyes often stealing glances on how you interacted with the other two. If you tried to clean, they’d reject the idea and tell you to just go sit and do what Mark is doing: nothing; an obvious jab. 

Ending their visit with discussing the kick-back Johnny was hosting at his place in a few weeks. Something about the Champions or US Open? You’re not sure. You were growing more worried about Mark, that you ended up telling whoever to just text you the deets. They smiled with a nod… and a kiss to your cheek as a goodbye while waving to Mark who perked at the scene. He felt his eyes warm and heavy. Not sure if they were tears beginning to form from jealousy or insecurity. 

You throw him an acknowledging smile while making your way to the bedroom. He stood up, leaving the TV on to follow behind. Before you could open the closet door to fetch something to sleep in, you feel his arms wrap around you. There was desperation to his grab, his hold was rough. Your back hit his chest, feeling his exasperated breath on your neck. Soft kisses at first but nipping soon after to leave his name all over you again, claiming you since it seemed like the others weren’t being repelled.

“Mark?…” You call out, his hands knead your skin. “Why didn’t you tell me?… Why did you keep–” ‘everything’ he wanted to say, “that from me?” 

“Come on–” you intend to plead but he’s not letting it go. “Why?!” He asks exasperatedly against your face while he leaves wet kisses on the skin, pleadingly. “I didn’t want to burden you.” You confess, a whine at the harsh grasp.

“You’re my wife! I need to know these types of things, Y/n. You can’t just keep things from me, how can we be good to– how can it be good for us?” He exclaims; angry and wailing all at once.

‘How can we be good together like this?’ He wanted to say, biting his tongue to not tell truths while sober. Mark didn’t know what it was, but it hurt. He had been thinking about this for weeks. How to ask you overall about the things you’ve hidden from him but now that he has the chance to bring it up, he can’t help but feel resentful and pained. 

Why did you trust Jaehyun and Jungwoo more than him? He’s your husband.

He expected that once married, loyalty would be granted to him no matter what, one way or another. Just like she had granted it to Donghyuck despite how flawed their marital logic was.

Sure, he made things worse but would the universe be cruel enough for him to be in Hyuck’s shoes years later? He deserved it, he knew, something at least, but that ill side of him– what he had learned from her plagues him and demands you to love him unconditionally. To do things on your own without the help of others even when he’s the one to deny you any aid, when he’s at fault.

Mark is miserable and he expects you to be so too… even more than you already are.

Misery loves company.

His hands stopped their harsh kneading, turning you around to look at him. His tired and weary eyes looked straight into yours. But while he felt resentful and confused, you felt odd. Why was he acting like he cared all of the sudden? It was strange and while you appreciated it to an extent, you also hated it.

You weren’t used to it at least, and you weren’t sure if this act would last. You don’t want to admit it but that voice hidden in the vault of your heart loathes him more than anything.

“Okay…” You nod. “I’m sorry. I’ll tell you things more often, yeah?” 

“Please…”

You nod and he nods, pleadingly; he’s not content and neither are you. 

After that discussion, the day transpired as if nothing had happened. He had returned to the living room leaving you to do whatever while he kept his distance. Only answering with hums and nods whenever you come out of the room.

Did you mind? No, it was so normalized it didn’t make you angry anymore. You actually felt like things were back to normal and this was sufficient enough. Mark on the other hand tried everything to ignore how he felt or regulate those emotions since he wasn’t too sure who he was mad with. 

By the time he had figured he was over it, you had fallen asleep alone like all those times he did weeks prior. A warmth filled his chest at the thought. An inkling telling him to wake up before you do the following day just to leave that dissatisfaction you had left in him, not accounting with how disappointed you were with him already that it wouldn’t affect you in the slightest.

He wouldn’t do it, though. Not because he cared enough, but because he wasn’t planning on waking up early to be petty. What he will do is go back to the living room and let his fingers roam like Thing until those crumpled and messy pages sat on his lap and he laid on the couch, stereo system on.

Instantly he’s met with those familiar sharp corners and loops. Numbers, increasing and decreasing significantly. The larger ones bold from rage, the decreasing one's neatly written with smiley faces next to them. He still couldn’t figure out what they meant but he surely enjoyed the recipes you kept adding to the journal and the doodles of how they turned out. Although, he felt that they lacked so much substance.

All of these felt either welcoming or asked that he be eradicated from this earth for the way he’s breaching your privacy, acting like an over controlling strict father despite being your husband. Almost like his dad, but don’t tell him that or he’ll throw a fit. For having lived so many lives, he's surely turning into the worst version of himself.

Through more flipping to see if he missed anything, he came across some interesting notes. All which made his stomach churn and that pride he would once feel, turned to– well, some type of disgust and concern…

‘I’ll do anything for him but every day I’m going insane with tense trials. It’s fine. If I have to go insane to stay with him I will.’

Mark sighs heavily, hands covering his face to soon slide off hoping his flesh would fall with them, groaning to himself.

Fuck, he loved you. In a fucked up way he did but how much could he endure knowing things aren’t fine and dandy? Sure, his first instinct is to try and fix things but there’s also that part that won’t let him strive for any change and it’s winning.

Change hasn’t been the kindest to him in the past. Hell, it’s the reason he’s morphed into what he is now but you accept him this way. That’s what the incessant and pestering part of him told him to let things be and just act like he doesn’t know what you truly are.

He should be glad, no? To know that you love him so much that it’s killing you. Yet, he isn’t. He’s not sure why, maybe because of his deep buried true morality but he has also grown to be selfish and he wants to relish in the glory of your love until you hit a breaking point.

For once he doesn’t want to be a Bernal character and it seems this is where he is slowly breaking that pattern— albeit, he is not enjoying it either. 

Perhaps it was the hour, his growing resentment, anger, and hurt, or he was overstimulated that caused the music in the background to tremble and clog his ears the longer he kept reading. Lists upon lists of things you had to do at work followed by entries on how much longer your hours would run every instance you paid no mind to that dick that the guys described.

Countless entries of your boss calling your attention after that asshole complains. Instances in which, despite how many pictures of Mark you put up in your cubicle, he makes an effort to make them disappear any time you’re not near. On company dinners, Jungwoo and you make it your life’s mission to slither away from the crowd– to be seen but not noticed, enough to not be reprimanded when you’re miles away from danger.

‘Jungwoo mentions in passing every opening in his floor as an incentive to ask for a transfer. Going as far as getting letters of assistance to request my temporary time in the department. Hours to days, they have been great but not everything lasts. With just one foot back inside in my department, the entire mood shifts and it’s back to reality.’

Mark doesn’t understand why his chest aches every time he reads your journal. Perhaps there’s a moderate amount of empathy but he also feels hurt knowing you’re hiding so much from him.

Years worth of things and even if you don’t say it, you make it known you hate the person he is. Mark is sure that if you weren't attached to him like you are, you’d loathe him the way you loathe everyone who has wronged you. He wonders how long it will be until your love runs out and he will finally become one of them.

He shouldn’t expect it but if it happened with Donghyuck who promised to never leave him, of course it can happen with you who he has wronged just as bad as his brother, even if you do everything in your power to prove him wrong. Mark tends to bite the hand that feeds him, if he gnaws for far too long, surely there will be consequences.

03:46, a warm night in 2008… Aggravated and nauseous from making your suffering about himself, Mark dictates that it was enough meddling for the day. Tiresome and bleary-eyed, head thumping achingly with the music debilitating him; Mark stands up frustratedly to turn off Sinead O’Connor angrily screaming ‘you’re a liar’ over and over making him forget about the journal on his lap.

The vegan leather taunts him with its loud thump against the floor, screeching as he picks it up but in the process he drops some notes. “Fuck me!” He curses frantically, knowing you’ll definitely know he’s been snooping when none of these end up where you originally placed them. He starts to panic, he feels his heart race dangerously, his aching head is now spinning, flipping through pages to see where he can put these in, yet in the process he stops.

“Don’t beat yourself up because of him. I’ll always be on your corner and so will Jungwoo. I love you, y/n. – Jaehyunie ♡”

I love you, y/n… Not ‘we love you’ but ‘I. I love you’.

Mark’s blood runs cold, his eyes bulge. In that moment he feels his chest and heart compress, squeezing the life out of him.

This is what Mark’s fears came to. He worried so much about your unconditional love becoming conditional, that the universe allowed him to see the incriminating clue that told him that sooner than later that was to happen. Right?

 ‘Dinner on me today! NO buts! Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?! XOXO — Snoops XD.’

The pitch black ink taunts him, questioning how recent or how old these must be. The handwriting felt juvenile with every smooth corner and small bottoms. The top of every letter felt bubbly and messy when connecting. Jaehyun’s could still be neat when messy and for some reason that bothered Mark more.

Unbeknownst to Mark, the papers were crumpling between his shaky fingers. As shaky as his breath restraining whatever he was feeling. ‘Who else can take care of you if not for Jaehyun and me?’ Mark repeats to himself that same question for a hundred more times, each making him more angry. ‘Who else but her husband? Me!’ He wants to yell at the top of his lungs. Drill it in the minds of everyone in your shared circle. He was capable of taking care of you!

But being capable doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t nor put effort into doing so.

No, Mark didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to jump into conclusions of infidelity or anything down that rabbit hole. He knew you wouldn’t do it. He wants to think that, he wants to believe it. You’re literally ruining yourself for him, so why would you do all that to throw it all away? Regardless, he can’t swallow the lump in his throat. 

He also once thought him and Hyuck would be in each other’s lives until they died. It later turned into him believing Hyuck would fade into the shadows of this earth and not ever see him because she would be his, choosing him, but that didn’t happen. In fact it was the opposite. He also didn’t become the renowned artist he was in his college years with a list full of connections that left him when he fell from grace. 

He didn’t end up thriving in the studio where he was meant to start over and is now in a dead-end design engineering job because of his father and his connections, not Mark’s. Did he know anything about it going in? He knew the word design but oh god how far can connections go if he landed something like that.

Even you, he met you because of his father, and the bells of the life he avoided for years rang incessantly letting him know no one can run from their faith. No matter how hard they try.

It didn’t matter if he was or wasn’t in Hyuck’s shoes, it only mattered that he now knew how much pain Hyuck was going through seeing his wife rejoice in the care and love of men he considered friends. That and the fact that he was making your unraveling all about himself, at least they can share that too.

He couldn’t understand how you acted so peaceful and put together when during lunch he’d visit the cafes you frequented with Jungwoo and found you the same as the first time. Exasperated, vexed, and angry with a cigarette between your fingers when you two were to leave.

A chuckle on his lips remembering all the times you pestered him to quit smoking because you wanted him for many years to come. Now he’s not sure if you want to be with him as much, no matter how many times you write about it.

“You’re still a liar, you’re still a liar, you’re still a liar!”

Monday rolled around in which Mark swore to not allow Jungwoo another lunch date with you. Furthering his selfishness and restricting your moments of relief so he could take that time up. You wouldn't mind, right? It’s him after all…

It goes to say that when he stepped through the ample threshold of your floor with a cute little bag in his hand and some drinks in the other, that confusion crossed your mind before that thought was pushed back by adoration. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask with a warm smile. You felt like a child whose parents never showed up for any activities but this one. That childish glee and relief of knowing that you are loved. “Can’t pay my wife a visit?” Mark retaliates with a cheeky smile, leaning in to give you a short but sweet kiss.

You want to say it felt like when you first began dating. So sweet, tender, and soft. How he was before you married and his facade fell, showing how dependent he was. His small acts of love come through.

You want to believe it so bad that you’re willing to push back the tiny voice in your head trying to force you to question what he wanted out of you if he was willing to visit you this far.

“Well yeah,” You giggle in an effort to leave your desk. “Come, let’s go to the rooftop.” Your hand takes a hold of his wrist, pulling him along until that incessant blob of human flesh presents itself right in front of you both, blocking the way. 

“Well look at that. Your husband, right? Didn’t think you’d like the soft ones…” A mocking grin slapped on his face, arms crossed against his chest. He wasn’t much taller than Mark but he sure was confident to take a step closer to you both. Mark opts to carry all bags in one hand, twisting his wrist to hold your hand rather than you him.

You sigh, looking for ways to respond but Mark doesn’t give you time, walking around him with you in front, ignoring any calls from him to go back for a conversation. Such an insufferable man, Mark was aware but to you, this moment, you were still treating it like one of your earlier dates. His attentiveness and courage of protecting you. You missed that Mark and any resentment from marrying him faded for now.

“That’s him?” Mark breaks the silence, the walk to the rooftop consisting of him complaining from these few seconds they met. If he thought this much from only that timeframe, you wonder how long he would have lasted in your shoes. 

You responded to his complaints with nods and hums, taking a seat across from him on the bistro table. He laid back on the chair relaxed, if it wasn’t for his babbling one would think he wasn’t really affected.

“And, I mean, he’s such a dick.” He groans, sitting up straight, his roll of eyes halting upon noticing you pick at one half of the sandwich. 

Mayo wiped off, pickles on the bundle of used napkins, the turkey they touched on top of them, chunks of old avocado added to the tower. “What are you doing? Why are you picking at your food all of the sudden?” He leans against the table, elbows on the glass to be closer to you. In that instance, you stop your actions, looking at him through lashes before raising your head.

“Mark, I don't like these. I thought you knew by now…”

Fuck.

“No, yeah, I know. I’m sorry…” His hand leaves his chin, stretching it to hold yours. “Sorry, I forgot to check the order at the cafe, I didn’t want traffic to get me.” You smile at him, he smiles at you. You know he’s lying but it’s the thought that counts. “Plus, I think I came at the perfect time. Imagine I had come later and he had bothered you more?” His fingers squeeze yours, a little too hard if you say so. 

He’s received with a shrug. “He’s a dick, like you said.” You giggle softly, pulling your hand away to wipe them with another napkin. “He doesn’t react like that with Jaehyun, though. Does everything to avoid him.” Your head tilts, reassembling the sandwich to presentability. 

“Jaehyun?” You gave him that same look as when he questioned you seconds earlier, except it was softer and almost incriminating. You didn’t mean it in any form, more casually but after his findings, Mark can’t say he’s too happy with this information.

“Oh, well, when you can’t bring what I ask you to, I… sometimes ask Jae. So, they've met before…” Your gaze lowers, taking the other sandwich half onto your hands. “I think he’s scared of Jae, to be honest.” You giggle in attempts to break whatever tension you felt from your husband.

‘Jae, Jae, Jae. Christ, what a broken record.’ Mark thought, an urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his coworker. For fucks sake, he was the last thing he wanted to think about or even see. The only reason he saw him today was because of work but that should be it. He shouldn’t be hearing or thinking about his name here with you. Let alone hear it coming from you, his wife.

Stretching your hand towards him, you smile. “Here, eat the other half. These are huge on their own.” He took it, lunch soured by your incessant need to bring up Jaehyun and that dickhead from earlier.

Was this how he was paid? Making an effort to be a good husband just to have things be thrown in his face?

Lunch ended not too long after, he was on his own lunch break after all. It goes to say that his drop off and goodbye bid seemed lackluster in comparison to his greeting.

“Um, and don’t forget to file a floor change.” He gave you a tired smile and a quick kiss. It was the last thing he said to you while fixing any pictures of you two on your desk —three missing now— before heading towards the elevator. 

Like an act of a malice-meaning demon, when reaching the twelfth floor, the doors yanked themselves open like a grand introduction to a world renowned boxer or an all-show wrestler, showcasing that smug pug-faced asshole. A silent chuckle upon placing himself next to Mark who slumped against the railing and mirror walls.

Mark greeted him with a huff, head lolling similar to his eyes. The feeling got worse when he heard him blubbering, “At first I thought that the other guy was her boyfriend. You know, tall, dimples; suits her better.” He nods to himself, egging Mark’s ringing ears.

Here they went again. Bringing Jaehyun into every conversation. It’s made worse knowing that this idiot felt even Jaehyun could be your partner. That no matter how many images of Mark you display, to the world only Jae was good enough for you. Because he’s the only one who shows up.

“He seems like an actual man or that guy from the floor below. The orange haired one, a little weird but he surely goes out of his way to not let me have some fun for the day.” He laughs, snorting at his abhorrence. He turns to Mark, swallowing that disgusting lump of mucus in his throat, hand itching to come in contact with Mark’s smooth cheek. A pat of mockery. “She’s doing charity work with you.” 

Ironic, Mark would say. Ironic that he thinks you’re doing charity work with him when this idiot was never an afterthought. The older man insists on glaring at Mark, not letting their gazes drop, seeking any response from Mark even when the elevator rings, letting them know they’ve hit the garage lobby. He felt victorious feeling as if he had struck a nerve when Mark hopped off without a peep. Only for his triumph to be shut down shortly after.

“No wonder she has never mentioned you before. You’re repulsive to even think about and a sorry excuse for a man.”

A disgusted scowl replaced Mark’s poker face, glaring at the once mocking jackass whose face had sagged, shock turning into anger that he didn’t know how to express before the doors closed, making his target disappear from view.

Mark might have felt great in the moment but things could only go worse for you. He didn’t think about the consequences of his actions. He never did. He didn’t think about how it would affect you at work and the repercussions you faced for the weeks to come. Mark hadn’t processed he was at fault until your journal became frantic, pages with holes from how hard you wrote on them. Crumpled from the anger you couldn’t express besides abusing those pages.

He didn’t notice because he was indulging amongst the side notes and words highlighted with your tears about how scared you were of losing him. Your quick remarks on how you felt him pulling away or acting odd. Imploring to whichever higher being to not take him from you if that was the case. While you’re wallowing in the pits of your sadness hoping he won’t leave you, Mark enjoys the feeling of warmth seeing your desperation.

It meant you loved him, right? With how things were going on with Jaehyun, Mark took any crumb of your love that only felt real when you wrote about it. It’s hard to understand why he didn’t feel it was real when it came from your lips but it did when you confessed to the things you’ve put yourself through for him. For him, not Jaehyun, him, Mark. That felt like love.

Right, only on paper it felt like love. Not like now that you found yourself in Johnny’s kitchen with Jaehyun next to you like a guard dog, chewing your ear off with whatever he was saying despite your look of anguish. A worrying look to Mark and the likes of his— well, your friend it seems.

He had been enjoying the final match with Johnny, Yanyang, and the other coworkers they shared. You had been sitting by his side for most of it but it wasn’t until a few minutes ago that Jaehyun pulled you aside, asking for your help to make some drinks for the rest of the guests but now he was holding you hostage, begging you to drink some water.

Mark figured the drinks you had were getting to you and Jaehyun could tell. He won’t say he’s fond of that fact. That Jaehyun knows you well to the point he can tell when you need to be cut off.

Mark tried not making it obvious but when only his head isn’t turned to the TV and the host is making sure his guests are having a good time, well it’s hard to miss. Johnny notices it too, how Jaehyun was fixing you a slider, the words: “You haven’t eaten well, stop trying to fool me.” sternly spewing from his mouth.

No mayo, no pickles, no condiments at all. Just a plain cheeseburger slider. He knew how you liked it by heart and that’s something that makes Mark’s heart pound in hate.

The feeling becomes worse when your whispering turns frantic and almost audible for the rest to hear. Your words whining like you wanted to cry about how hellish work has become after Mark’s visit. Jaehyun shakes his head, hands pressing against the counter to lean against with an angry look on his face. That infamous look of hollow cheeks and sunken dead eyes. He wanted to say something but knew it was best to be a shoulder to lean on.

“And don’t tell me to talk to him about it because what’s the use?! You know how he is. I love him, I do but—” Your hands come in contact with your forehead, shaking it a bit, “Why can’t he just be a tad bit like you?…” You hiccuped, hands slowly sliding down to your mouth as you shut your eyes. It wasn’t a sign of regret but exhaustion, vile stuck in your throat. 

Jaehyun’s face softened, standing up straight to turn to you. To some form of comfort, his hand extends to rub your back, pulling you in for a side hug while you try to hold in whatever you feel. Jaehyun understands your words come from a place of hurt but confessions like that can be taken wrongly.

“Why can’t he be just a tad bit like you?...” Just like Mark had, who now felt his heart shatter. Disillusioned and hurt, stupid for thinking that you would want him no matter what. Worse off, it was Jaehyun who you confessed that to. Someone that everyone thought was a better fit for you.

I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.

Johnny took it upon himself to raise the volume of the TV, sparing Mark from any more anguish and saving your business to be heard by the other guests who by the graces of God were more interested in who would win the Stanley Cup this season.

His attempts didn’t work. Mark felt his world crashing down on him in this instance. He wanted to go out and scream, cry even, at the reviving memories flashing through his head. He’s seen this before— no, he’s experienced this.

Her cries to him about Hyuck to soon commence their affair in that same instance. If that was to happen in these walls, Mark thinks it’s his time to take a leap out of Johnny’s apartment balcony.

So when you leave me, I should die. I deserve it, don’t I? I can feel it getting near.

The vile stuck in your throat had been persistent on coming out, enough to push Jaehyun out of the way to run towards Johnny’s bathroom. It’s amazing how enthralled with the game his guests were to not notice anything happening behind them. To not feel Mark’s radiating poison as he watches his wife and ‘friend’ rush towards the bathroom, door slamming behind him. If it wasn’t for Jeno’s and Yangyang’s cheering scream, they would hear you hurl the slider into the toilet bowl, crying along with self-disgust.

Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore; abruptly he stands, ignoring Johnny’s sympathetic look. Not only for him but for you too, aware of Mark’s own flaws. He had thoughts of barging in and blowing Jaehyun’s ear off with his barking. Questioning you about what was going on, but he slowed down when he heard you hiccup and cry before and after vomiting. Jaehyun’s soothing hushes to you making his head spin but innocent enough.

Innocent until he opened his mouth. “Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, pretty girl.” Jaehyun coos into Mark’s eardrum through a megaphone to imprint the notes of his voice onto his brain. 

Pretty girl. That’s his pet name for you, Mark’s pet name. Hurt floods him when you make no effort to correct him and present this fact.

Since when have you become someone else’s pretty girl?

He couldn’t take it any longer, angrily slamming the door open to watch Jaehyun soothing you with backrubs, holding your hair as you went.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Mark spits out venom, mimicking that of a cobra. His eyes widened by hot fury as he approached you two. You wanted to speak, but the invasion from your gut stopped you, tears being the only thing you were able to respond with.

Jaehyun on the other hand gives him a look as if to tell him to calm down, that everything was fine, more worried about your well being than Mark’s insecurities. “Just helping her out, calm down.”

It aggravated him how collected Jaehyun’s words were, how little mind he paid him or how you made no effort to have Jaehyun stop giving you supportive squeezes (almost like you weren’t fighting for your life).

Mark huffs, hands taking purchase on his waist watching you two, the volume to the television and the guests drawn out by your heaving. He whispers, walking towards Jaehyun with that same menacing look– eye roll worthy, Jaehyun would say.

“I just fucking heard you, she’s my wife. What the fuck are you trying to do?” His finger rose to poke at Jaehyun’s shoulder. The taller one of the two feeling offended by Mark’s accusations and thoughts that he’d snake him like that. Jaehyun was not Mark.

“Sorry, that’s on me,” Jaehyun slaps Mark’s hand away, creating some distance. “I'm just helping her—” “Back the fuck off, she’s my wife…” 

Tired enough by this facade, Jaehyun scowls at Mark, pushing past him towards the door. “Then don’t be a shitty husband and she won’t have to seek other people to do what you can’t! I know how to respect marriages well enough, if anything I’m just helping her. Something you should do for once in your fucking life.”

Jaehyun bites back, watching Mark’s face falter as he slams the door behind him while you continue your sobbing. Overwhelmed by your bodily reaction but mostly for what just ensued in this room. With no form to defend yourself and Jaehyun. Hurt that Mark thought you two would betray him like he’s done to those before you.

You believe me like a God, I’ll betray you like a man.

In that instance Mark wanted to run to Jaehyun and gouge his eyes out, rip his stupid freshly bleached hair out, and beat him until he was nothing else than liquid matter. The words rang horribly inside his head to the point he was seeing red, his vision blurred and stars were floating in his eyes.

History was repeating itself and he was finally paying his wrong doings. He thought Jungwoo and Jaehyun were his friends but Hyuck thought the same of him and now he’s found himself in this predicament.

You're sweet, you're lovely. You go out of your way to make Mark happy so it was him all along. He's the problem and karma is finally making him pay the price.

Jaehyun understood it was his fault for being careless and using pet names but can one blame him when he was worried? Someone has to if not the one who bowed to do so. Even when he’s gone from eye sight, Jaehyun’s efforts are felt through Johnny who knocks on the door. Mark opens it slightly, Johnny standing before him with a glass of water and baking soda. Telling him about how Jaehyun sent him before leaving; for you to swish your mouth with this and drink some sparkling water to soothe your stomach ache.

Mark took it without a word, nodding at Johnny before shutting the door in his face as if this wasn’t his home. You were up on your feet by the time Mark turned around, lid closed as you flushed the toilet, reaching the sink to rinse your mouth before taking the glass from his hand. No words from either of you.

He looked at you through the mirror, arms crossed and factions softening upon noticing how tired and sick you looked. Gauntly, lips and eyes puffed out, and cheeks streaked. It was best to go home after that incident, only giving Johnny an apologetic goodbye while the rest of the guests paid no mind. On your end you were out of the apartment already, embarrassment laced on your face. 

And even through the car ride, all you could think about was Mark’s words and actions. Memories of Mark smugly telling his ex-best friend words Jaehyun spat at him flooded his vision, making it dangerous for him to be driving. To his side you grunted in discomfort, feeling as if vile was to rise from you again but he paid you no mind, made no effort to comfort you, more focused on his own feelings.

The look Hyuck had on his face eight years ago was the one Mark mirrors this night. One way or another one will pay for all their sins and you were his cross.

He didn’t talk to you for the remainder of the night. Didn’t care enough to question why you fell ill or how frightened you were about the possibility that this may be it, that this was his excuse to leave you behind.

The thoughts, his actions and words clouding your mind through your shower, skin care routine, and brushing your teeth. Spending minutes upon minutes doing the latter, disgusted by yourself. Brushing away all the vile you wanted to throw at him but instead ended down Johnny’s plumbing. For only Jaehyun to hear and understand.

Mark laid down on his side by the time you came out of the bathroom. You knew he was angry, his stiff body making no effort to move even when feeling the bed sink under your knees. He tried not to move when he felt your arms wrap around him seeking comfort in his warmth, but Mark wasn’t willing to give it to you. Without a care if he hurt you, which is what he did.

“Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Your words made his eyes open. Startled, his body hardens under your touch, almost like your upcoming tears were freezing him on the spot. Damp on his sleeping shirt but hot on his back. He turns abruptly, pushing back a bit in the process. “What are you even ta—”

“Why don’t you love me anymore?!” You cut him off, voice raising to something he’s never heard before. “You’ve been so distant. More than usual and I can’t take it anymore!” Your palms cover your eyes, pushing back tears, forbidding you to look at that mocking grin on his face as he shakes his head in disbelief. 

You’re the one who grows distant when I beckon you near.

His voice on the other hand makes sure you know how he feels. “You think so? I think this is the closest I’ve been to you.” He chuckles, taking into account that look of confusion on your face as you put down your hands, resting them on your lap. “Why don’t you tell me anything, Y/n? You tell Jungwoo everything. You ask Jaehyun to do everything for you. I’m your husband, why don't you don’t you trust me enough?” 

Your confusion falls, disgust and anger replace it. “When I ask anything out of you, you never want to nor know how to do it.” Your voice was hurt, head shaking a tad with every syllable, hate laced into each one. He hated how much your reaction resembled Jaehyun’s.

He doesn’t want to admit you’re right, “You ask the most absurd of favors.” He scoffs, sitting up to be face to face with you. “Are you fucking serious? You’re a grown man who can’t cook or clean for himself. Up until I saw you at the bakery I thought you didn’t know where it was but then I saw you with another girl there.” You huff, arms flailing like when you’re with Jungwoo. 

There would be some satisfaction in him to know your true self is here talking with him but bringing old news made him groan. “I thought you said it was fine and we’d drop it there.” He takes into account the glare you’re throwing him, smoke coming out of your ears the longer neither of you speak.

If he had known a few drinks would do this to you, he would have not let you drink. The thing is, Mark pays no mind to you to not notice you’ve drank mocktails all night. He was more worried about Jaehyun than you.

“It’s not fine when you’re with some other girl to a place you keep avoiding when I ask you to go. Is it because of her? Is she the one taking my place now?” Your voice came out choppy, acheful, with the question, inhaling and exhaling to calm yourself down.

He on the other hand doesn’t take it kindly, annoyed that you’d think about him that way but that's what he’s been thinking about you, so what difference does it make? It would not be his first rodeo, so are you that insane to think of him like that?

I’ll betray you like a man.

Mark stands from the bed, crouching to eye-level with you as if you were a child he’s lecturing. “It’s not because of her, I don’t give a fuck about her! I barely know her, she is just an intern, and hasn't been there for a month now! We were sent by my boss!” His fingers poke his temple, in a form to tell you to get it through your head.

“But I’m right? You don’t love me anymore.”

Mark stands up straight in disbelief with your words despite none defending his case coming from his own mouth. He could see how your heart was crushing with every passing second.

The truth is hiding in your eyes and it’s hanging on your tongue. Just boiling in my blood. 

“All this time I thought you were calm… level headed— but you're the opposite... you don’t talk to me, you tell Jaehyun and Jungwoo everything. Why can’t you tell me everything? Why can't you need and trust me?” His voice softens, calming down.

“Because you don’t ever want to listen to me! I can’t need you when you do everything in your power for me not to!” Truth is, he did know how to clean and cook for himself, he's done it before but he's grown selfish and dependent.

Your outburst left him speechless, all the sighs he had to give stuck and dispersed through every crevice of his interior, poisoning his flow. He knows you’re right but he doesn’t want to believe it.

“I give and give and give but I never receive! I love you so much, it's become so painful that I rather let it slide than be far from you.” You crawl closer to the edge of the bed, hoping to minimize the distance between you two. The feeling of proximity only seems to feel farther, leaving room for a blizzard to rest between you two.

Mark knows he’s not man enough, your coworker said it. He knows he doesn’t help or take care of you, Jaehyun and Jungwoo told him so. None of these men had to tell him for him to know he doesn’t deserve you. It just so happens to be that Mark is selfish and wasn’t able to process it until now. He swore he believed you through writing but now, with you telling him directly— reality is forcing itself upon him.

“I think we should take a break.”

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

“What?” You ask confused and startled, looking up at him with fury in your eyes. “What? Don’t be fucking stupid. We’re married and we’ll stay this way! It's not as easy as you let out, asshole.” You sniffle, getting off the bed now, approaching him despite the gap he’s formed between you two. In all senses. 

“You’re just not who I fell in love with anymore.”

You wanted to rip his hair out, claw his skin and inject your pain and love into him so he could understand what you felt. You knew he was selfish but how fucking stupid could he be? 

“You’re so— you’re no fucking better than anyone else. You fell in love with the idea you made of me. Whatever the fuck that is! Any chance you get to see the real me you shut me down, Mark! Why can’t you just love me?! Not the stupid girl you thought I was.”

Your cries stopped, hands taking purchase on his arms, squeezing tighter with the adrenaline of wrath coursing through your veins. You were tired, tired of his foolishness and in times like these, you weren’t going to let him ruin what you’ve built.

“You fell in love with an idealized version of me too, if you’re still this in love.” Mark gulps, making no effort to move but his eyes felt heavy and tired. Hurt even, not sure if for himself or for you, empathy winning for once. Pity sounds better.

You think that I can’t see what kind of man that you are. If you’re man at all.

“I see you for who you fucking are. You’re selfish, you don’t want to do things for others unless you’re getting something out of it. You weaponize your incompetence for me to do things for you. You’re insecure especially with other men around me because you think of yourself exactly the opposite as them unless they’re more pathetic compared to you.” Your finger poked his chest, reminiscing on how he began berating Jaehyun.

“You’re especially jealous of your friends because they offer more for me than you do and that’s your fault.  You project your insecurities and mistakes onto them and me because you’re a bad friend, husband, and ultimately a bad person. Yet I’m still with you because I love you— even with everything you put me through and how you can’t help but compare me to— to her! Get over it and through your head, that was loneliness and you were the easiest victim. No one leaves their husband for someone they don't love.”

Like the pathetic man he was, he broke down. No amount of swallowing and gulping down the knot in his throat would go away. Tears streamed down his cheeks upon hearing you project onto the world what you had whispered to the toilet bowl earlier. Mark wasn’t aware that you knew about Hyuck and her but he wouldn’t doubt if you had come across letters from them both in the past just like he came across your journals. 

Having you voice what he had been thinking about since that experience caused his world to finally see true color, despite you being purposely vicious. He knew what that fling meant for her, for Hyuck, and for him. It just so happens that it meant more for him and here he was taking it out on the only person who has stuck by his side.

You loved him but you also hated him and that was more than clear to him now.

“Better reason for us to take a break. You deserve better… I’m sorry I’m the one you love. No one will ever love me like you again.” He sighs, sniffling, throwing his head back to not let any more tears shed. 

“I don’t care. If I go without you I’ll—I…” you clinging your nails to his shoulders trying to cut off your words. You knew what you wanted to say wasn’t healthy, not for you and not for him. Mark knows this, weeks of reading your entries allowing him to understand what goes within the walls of your brain. 

"Y/n please stop... you’re hurting me." It doesn't change the fact that feeling it was worse than reading it. “Then you’re a coward who would die within an hour in my shoes if I treated you the way you treat me.” You sternly and ferociously spit. He wails before doing the only thing he knew would calm you down. 

Leaning in, he kisses you, meekly. Pouring in the love he once had for you and the remaining he has now. But your body rejects it, feeling how phony it is. Pushing him off, running to the restroom to repeat the happenings of earlier. Mark sighs in relief to have you not corner him but in this instance concern floods him.

He follows you to the bathroom, standing by the door frame with crossed arms. Watching you hold your hair like Jaehyun had done earlier. Tears back in your eyes as you continue to lash out your rage against the white porcelain that's witnessed this on other occasions. Although this was one that should symbolize happiness, yet it’s clear you both won’t take it as such.

Mark took a look at his watch, 11:28PM. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll take you to urgent care, you probably just need some electrolytes.” He approaches you, aiming to help you up but you resist, shaking your head defeatedly. 

“I’m not drunk.” You let out through gritted teeth. “No?” He questions smugly, annoyed at your rejection. “They were mocktails. These are normal symptoms.” He gives you a quizzical look. “Look in the drawer, Nancy Drew.” You huff, mocking him for his detective work these past weeks. It was only natural he’d find out eventually if he kept meddling in your journals.

With furrowed eyes, and look remaining, Mark pulls at the white drawer, the cold metal burning his warm hand. He digs and digs through piles of papers. All bills or old letters neither of you cared enough for. Reaching the bottom Mark feels something solid wrapped around a newer piece of paper. In comparison to the yellowing pages, this was white and bright, tied with a rubber band around the solid material.

He throws you a quick glance while taking it into his hands, unraveling the rubber to open it and come to view with three sticks, all with matching two-pink stripes. Any ounce of hope to restart is gone with the weight in his hands. Disappearing when he read the paper.

‘Laboratory report Patient: Y/n Lee. Sampled collected: May 15, 2008. Report date: May 20, 2008 Status: Pregnant Gestational age: 5-8 weeks.’

Mark reads it over and over, finally having the courage to look at you. His eyes wide and dim, reflecting on your cold angry ones. This was it. It was his life. What you would have taken as a beautiful moment, you can now agree this seals your faith. The look you gave him mirroring his misery. At least now you both were on board for once, basking in the fact this was a deadend no matter what.

You both know nothing will get fixed, all there is left is to pretend for the life that’s growing within you. Wreckless as ever, and the cycle of life continues. An innocent life to suffer the trails of a failed relationship for years to follow. That’s all Mark knows, that’s all you know. Generational curses don't end with either of you.

if you liked happy together: it’s too bad you’re married… to me, you’ll enjoy: stupid girl !

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[artsninspo]

FORGIVELSS -II - I DON'T CARE 'BOUT CONSEQUENCES, I WANT MY LICK BACK

Full Masterlist

RIO MASTERLIST

II - I DON'T CARE 'BOUT CONSEQUENCES, I WANT MY LICK BACK

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: 2K

Warning: Mature themes and its 🌶 🌶 🌶 

Summary: The title says it all.

Previous Chapter

You step one good in front of the other. You can feel your pulse in your throat. Hear it in your ears. Your palms are hot and anger is what’s fuelling you. You keep walking. A patron swings the door open and you scan the establishment. The venue is different to the previous restaurant, less upscale and easier to disappear into. You’re looking for one person and one person only. Sighing out of frustration you head to the bar, a bartender materializes in front of you in a minute.

“Is Rio here?” You ask.

“Anything to drink?” He asks.

Letting out a long sigh you take a look over the top shelf contemplating it. “Nothing for now, is he in?” You ask liable to blow any minute now and the bartender steps away whispering something to another. You watch closely as they disappear. You feel like breaking dishes, trashing the house and vandalising the car. You wish you could scream.

“He’s upstairs” the bartender says, snapping you from your daydream. Standing, you head up the long staircase. You emerge into an office with a Birds Eye view of the establishment. Rio is sitting in the middle of it behind a wooden desk with money piled high on the corner of it. His calm is in stark contrast to the mania you’re feeling.

“Let me guess, you want to commit a murder” he says breaking the silence with his naturally cool demeanour and that distinct voice. 

“Don’t mock me” you warn and he smiles, pouring a glass and setting it in front of you as you take a seat on the couch in the sprawling space. You take a sip only for the liquor to burn your throat due to inexperience. You make a face and the liquor quells your temper a touch. When your eyes reopen Rio’s amusement is clear as day. You spent three hours getting ready for date night the night you met Rio. Your husband's new role at work was demanding and there’d been distance so you were trying to mend fences and reignite a spark. He’d left and for your pride you picked at what was left of your food from the bar. Rio had been forward antagonistic and amusing, but he hadn't lied.

“Don’t be too mad, she’s not sexier than you are” he says sipping from your glass.

“We’ve been married five years,” you confess to the stranger. Anyone else and your life would be blown up forever. 

“No kids?” he asks.

“Not yet, kids are a part of the ten year plan” you confess meeting Rio’s eyes. You have nowhere else to go. No one else to talk to. Sometimes secrets are safest with a stranger. He holds out the glass again and you take a shot of the brown liquor feeling the burn.

“Ten year plan, where the fuck do you find a guy like that?” Rio muses at your expense. Sighing deeply you look down into the club's festivities as people start to dance. “How’d you find out? She came to you as a woman?”

“Worse, I saw it on his phone. Text thread full of nudes and videos…” you sigh wishing you could unsee the messages from both ends. It was clear your husband was absolutely feral for another woman and vice versa.

“So you’re here to have him killed or beat up or what?” Rio asks, misreading you.

“No” you respond not wanting someone to get a charge for your husband's poor choices.

“Then how can I help you? It’s getting late.” Rio says draining the glass. Your time is up for his thin patience.

“I told you we can’t hang out because I’m married.” You respond by holding up your left hand. The ring is on your dresser at home. 

“So you want me to fuck you as get back. But if we start you’re not gonna want him and I’m not marriage material” Rio says candidly. 

“Perfect” you smile liking the sound of that. You’re going to make your husband pay for his recklessness and absence. You imagine the shock when it hits him that Rio has had you. The thrill is your medicine. It’s the only thing that quells the pain of your husband's betrayal.

“Bet” Rio stands holding out a hand. You take a deep breath taking it as you stand. You use another staircase to a back entrance. You hate the city a little less from inside of his G-Wagon. The ride to his place is short. The home is too perfect to be his home.

“Is this where you bring all your girls?” You ask.

“Mhm” he nods. His honesty is a relief. 

“Where’s the bedroom?” you ask, trying to get your bearings.

“I don’t do crazy, you don’t show up at my job or here if we do this” Rio sets a boundary misunderstanding how your pride works.

“Understood” you nod. He closes the space between you with a raised brow.

“But do you?” He asks as you crane your neck back to meet his gaze.

“Mhm” you nod.

“Yes or no,” he asks, putting his hands in his pockets. For some reason it makes you want his touch.

“Yes” 

“Good, because you're beautiful and I want to do this” he says.

Feeling unsteady you stop yourself from getting lost in his brown eyes. “I don’t do crazy either. You stay out of my relationship outside of when I come to you”.

He smiles, “I dont have the time sweetheart, I have my own shit.”

“C'mere,” Rio says, stepping back. You indulge his cat and mouse game. “Last chance to run, or stay and give him hell” he smiles clearly the devil on your shoulder. Just the thought of James losing it is fuel enough for you to place a palm on Rio’s chest. His smirk is golden and all hesitation ceases. He lowers in a flash, lips crashing into yours. His mouth claims yours pulling back with hard suction like he’s trying to drag the nasty out of you. He’s artful with it and unlike James it’s so hot your brain overrides instinct when his hand holds your neck possessively to get better leverage. You feel your body relax, your mouths sync and the feverishness settles into something slower and more seductive. His tongue crowds your mouth before he goads yours into a dance. You find yourself moaning as he sucks your bottom lip before dragging his teeth gently down your neck. His other hand supports your back while his thumb rubs circled into your hardening nipples. You feel yourself pooling from his touch. Under his grip.

“What a clown, to play with a woman as bad as you” Rio mutters, turning you on even more.

 “Tell me how you want me to take care of you baby?” He asks, pouring fire on the blaze he’s set. Your eyes open to him, your breathing levels out and you look to him for guidance. His lips find yours again. This time the kiss is reassuring and gentle, his hold loosens.

 “Tell me how you want me to fuck you mama” he whispers against your ear and you sigh. “He’s never asked you that huh?” Rio scoffs a smirk falling on his lips. “Shame some men treat their wives like the Virgin Mary when they just want to be slut out. That’s what you want right? I ain’t ya man you don’t have to pretend to be a good girl with me” he taunts. Disgustingly right once again. You find yourself nodding before it can register. He takes you to the bedroom and dims the lights sensing you’re nervous. His shirt comes off and his toned frame is a refreshing change from James who spends several hours a week in the gym.

“I thought you’d have more tattoos” you reflect as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“You have any?” He asks as you straddle him.

“Not one” you smile feeling a little more comfortable. His hands slide under your shirt ridding you of it. He can’t fathom what the fuck your man’s problem was. Why did he cheat so openly when he clearly had more than he could effectively handle at home. You get lost in another kiss with him that ends with his head between your legs.

He’s so good that he’ll always be the person you’re comparing James to. He holds nothing back fully attentive to your every moan like it’s second nature. Your effects on each other are electric. You are both trying to bring the other to their peak without inhibitions or restrictions. He talks you through your orgasm praising you like you’ve accomplished something monumental. You lay at his side catching your breath needing more. It’s like a switch has been flipped and the dam of your desire has been opened. All the neglect coming to a head. You feel hellish as he tosses the used protection. Reaching over you stroke his manhood. Rio watches in awe not expecting it. His eyes close from the sensation following an already incredible orgasm. He kisses you rolling onto his side, rolling onto yours you hold your leg over him guiding him back into you slowly.

“Fuck” he groans once fully sheathed. It’s a final fuck you to James. 

“Come inside me” you plead and Rio nods kissing you deep before obliging completely turned on by the levels of fucked up. He could say no to pussy but not yours. He knew that now in you raw, there’d never be another way and pulling out wouldn’t be an option. Instinct kicks in and his thrusts pick up.

“Don’t stop” you continue getting you right at your spot. His size is perfect, it’s the perfect rhythm, the perfect feeling. 

“Like that?” he asks.

“Rio” you moan, finding comfort in your voice.

“Shit” he groans, closing his eyes firmly to remain in control. He could feel the tension building in him from the slickness and suction of your walls. 

“Right there” you moan loving every second of it. And you feel him inside you. The warmth of his climax fills you before overflowing. Rio looks to see his work completely spent. Fucking another man’s wife raw was a first for him. Enjoying it as much as he had was a surprise. He doesn’t pull out right away leaning it in as you lean in needy for a kiss. He obliges doing another first when he doesn’t send you home right away.

…

Rio leans against the counter watching as you take the plan b. It’s another first there’s been no scares during the course of your relationship. Once you finish he places the glass in the dishwasher.

“Want me to drop you home?” He asks as you turn your phone back on. You see thirty missed calls starting at one in the morning all from James.

“I gotta go,” you smile.

“Need a ride?” he asks.

“To the club, sure, that’s where my car is” you tell him and he grabs his keys happily to oblige.

“When’s the last time you let him hit?” Rio asks.

“Two maybe three months” you tell Rio honestly and he laughs.

“Don’t let him, call me if you need some” he says handing you his phone. You give him your number. “Text me if things get crazy. I don’t need anything crazy happening after we just had sex” he says and you laugh.

“Will do” you nod, getting out of his car and into yours.

Authour's Note: Sound off in the comments, I want to hear what you guys think happens next. THANKS FOR READING AND AS ALWAYS LIKE, COMMENT & REBLOG.

NEXT CHAPTER

[darby-rowe]

18+ | nsfw | mdni cw sub!coriolanus snow, fem!dom!reader, reader gets mean, mentions of dead parents, mentions of sex work (reader fantasizes about coryo selling his body for money), handjob, edging, cock slapping, nipple play, humiliation, degradation, slight dacryphilia, mentions of mommy kink, light bondage, male squirting/piss

"you're a piece of shit, you know that?" you growled through gritted teeth as you enter the thirty-minute mark of edging coriolanus snow. the squirming blonde boy was trapped in between your legs with his hands cuffed behind his back with a pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs, and gagged with a thick, pink strip of cloth tied around his head. the head of his cock was nearly purple with how badly he needed release, but alas he was at your malevolent mercy, and deep down he knew he wasn't getting what he wanted anytime soon.

you reached your other hand around coriolanus's body and started tweaking at one of his hard nipples, causing him to whimper and squirm even more against your body. "poor, poor coriolanus snow," you cooed into his ear, your voice oozing with venom. "you've got such a big attitude for such a small boy. barely hanging by a thread as you continue to bleed your dead daddy's money bone dry. what? too self-righteous to get a fuckin' job?" you slap the shaft of coriolanus's cock, eliciting a noise that sounded halfway between a groan and sob.

"i think you'd actually make a decent handful of cash if you just sold your body," you turned your head to gaze at how coriolanus laid his head back on your shoulder, eyes brimming with tears and drool dripping down his chin. your hand left his dick to slowly ghost your fingertips up his torso. "you have such a pretty body — so fuckable and fun to play with. i'm sure there are plenty of men and women who'd love to get their hands on you, baby,"

you gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at you. the way his blue eyes looked so wet and puffy with tears made your pussy throb. "maybe i can even watch as your body gets used by desperate capitol perverts. how does that sound, huh?"

coriolanus shook his head in disapproval, making you tut. "aww, does my baby not like that idea?" you mocked. "well, guess you're stuck with me," you hand traveled back down to coriolanus's cock, but instead of going back to mercilessly pumping his shaft, you began rubbing the palm of your hand over his tip. you watched as his baby blue eyes widened then snapped shut, and you laughed as he began bucking his hips against your touch.

you gasp playfully. "does that feel good, you stupid slut?" you taunted, slapping the shaft of his cock before going back to torturing the tip. "open your eyes, fuckin' bitch. look at me while i play with you like the worthless fuckdoll that you are,"

and he did exactly as he was told, fluttering his pathetic eyes open to stare into yours while you tortured him so exquisitely. "you're nothing," you told him. "your family name means nothing without your daddy's money, and you know that. i mean, look at you — getting your cock tortured and ruined by a girl. is it because your mommy's dead, too? you don't have a reliable older female figure in your life so you cry and beg for the approval of pretty girls like me? huh? what's next, you're gonna start calling me mommy while you plead to cum? god, you're pathetic. i wish you could look at yourself and how close you are to shooting your load while i talk about how much of a worthless piece of shit you are. think about this the next time you wanna humiliate me in front of the entirety of the academy's senior class,"

as you continued to palm the head of coriolanus's cock, you noticed something different in the way he breathed and jerked his hips. this piqued your curiosity, so you kept going. and going, and going, and going, until you watched as coriolanus's face went beet-red as an unknown fluid came gushing out of his cock — almost as if he were squirting or pissing. he blinked and tears came strolling down his cheeks as he whimpered and groaned and bucked his hips. you couldn't help but to watch in amazement as this new discovery in coriolanus's physiology made your cunt ache with arousal.

and you laughed. you laughed right in his face as sobbed with embarrassment, kissing at his tears.

"aww, baby..." you cooed. "look at that — i made you squirt like a girl!"

banner credits: chilumitos & eloquentreverie

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 3

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

Word count: 3.3k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, semi-public sex, handjob, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, sub!beomgyu, dom!reader, sub!reader, dom!yeonjun.

A/N: so I have split the chapter into two to get it out faster and to give good time for events to sink in. sorry guys but also not very sorry because i like to torture you lol

"The girl you've been obsessed with for years has invited you to her party but instead of trying to talk to her, you’re hiding in the closet getting jerked off with her right outside. This is why she never gave you the time of day. You’re such a pervert, Beommie." 

"Yes, baby. Whatever you say." Beomgyu breathes heavily, leaning into your touch. He always becomes so pliant once you have his dick in your hand.

"You've got nothing in your brain but sex, huh?" You ask, jerking him off and true to your words, he already looks so dumbed out.

“No.” He answers your rhetorical question, legs buckling when you drag your palm repeatedly over the head of his cock, precum sticking to your skin.  

“Careful, Beommie. Don’t fall.” You laugh, your breath causing goosebumps to erupt along his neck, and he lays his head back to give you more space, silently asking you to kiss his neck, and you do, hearing him let out the prettiest half-moans half-pants. 

“Can I cum?” 

“Hmm.” You pretend to think about it for a few tortuous seconds, letting one of your hands trail under his shirt to play with his nipples. 

“Baby!” He sputters, his nipples are just so sensitive. 

“You can’t. You’ll make a mess and everyone will know what you did. They’ll all know you came all over yourself like a big pervert.” You choose your words specifically to rile him up, feeling his cock twitch in your hand. 

“I don’t care. Just wanna cum.” 

“But she’ll see, baby. She’s going to be disgusted.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t c-care. Just need it.” He’s delirious, too gone to even think about her. Just the way you like him. You know he’s hanging by a thread and any second now he’s actually going to cum, and so regrettably, you let go of him, causing him to yell out. 

“No!” He cries and you immediately cover his mouth with your hand to quiet him. “Hush, Beomgyu! Someone will hear you.” 

“Why?” He cries out when you remove your hand. 

“I told you. I don’t want you to make a mess. You can cum when we get home.” 

It’s a lie, of course. Truthfully, you just wanted to punish him for once again openly salivating over her in front of you. 

“Then let's go home.” 

“Not yet. I wanna get a few drinks first. I’ll get out of the closet first. You wait a bit and come after me. You should probably wait a bit anyway for that to go down.” You grin, glancing at his poor red cock. 

“You’re evil.” 

“I know.” You put his dick back in his pants and zip them up. “Don’t touch yourself.”

You get out of the closet with a huge smile on your face. This evening started horribly with you having to sit beside Beomgyu and watch him tear through Haeun’s clothes with his gaze, openly lusting after her as if he doesn’t care who sees. But once you had enough alcohol in you, you decided to do something about it and whisper in Beomgyu’s ear to follow you to one of the closets. Being the horndog he is, he followed right after, finally interrupting his leering session. 

Okay, maybe getting him to pay attention to you by giving him a handjob at a party wasn’t your proudest moment but you did get him to stop caring about her. Maybe in time you’ll get him to forget about her completely. Maybe he’ll even start looking at you differently, and he’ll realize you’re the one who truly loves him…Oh, who are you kidding? He has been obsessed with her for–

Lost in your thoughts, you smack right into someone, the drinks they were holding spilling all over the both of you. 

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I'm such a drunk idiot." You immediately go into apologizing, not wanting to antagonize the person further, but when you look up, instead of an angry frown greeting you, you see him with his head cocked to the side and a grin on his face. "That’s okay, doll."

“Yeonjun!” You gasp, slightly relieved knowing the person isn’t going to fight you, but still horrified at the damage you’ve done to his white shirt.  “Your shirt is all ruined!"

"It's alright. It’s your dress I’m worried about."

You look down at your dress which was equally soaked and now clinging to your body uncomfortably. “Ah, shit. Let's go wash off before the stains will set." 

You drunkenly drag him to the nearest bathroom. Once you’re inside, you turn to him. "Take off your shirt."

“Oh, is this finally happening?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes. “Off.”

"Bossy. I like it." He takes his shirt off and hands it to you, and you bashfully look away from his half-naked body, taking the shirt and running it under water while he grabs a towel and wets it, washing off his stomach, or more accurately–his abs.

Still, you can’t help but to sneak not so subtle glances at him, drawn to the sight, before blushing and looking away when he catches you.

“Like what you see, doll?” He teases, winking at you. 

“Shut up.” You rub his shirt with some soap to get the last of the stain out. 

“I can guarantee you, he doesn’t look like that.” His voice is suddenly so close to you, and you look up to see him right next to you, cornering you between his body and the sink. 

“Stop it.” You put a hand to his chest, which you immediately come to regret as the skin on skin contact makes your treacherous heart flutter. 

“Why? Why are you so hung up on him? The idiot doesn’t even realize how much you love him. He’s too preoccupied with her.” You try to look away at the painful mention of Haeun but Yeonjun gently turns your face back towards him. “Give me a chance to make you forget him.”

“Yeonjun…” 

“Can I?” He leans forward, his face inches from yours. 

Should you really be doing this? Beomgyu had told you to stay away from Yeonjun specifically. He would be very pissed off if he found out that you let him kiss you… but then again, why? Why can’t you kiss Yeonjun? It’s not like you and Beomgyu are together. You’re free to kiss whoever you want, dammit!

‘To hell with it.’ You think, surging forward to close the distance between you and Yeonjun. 

His lips are the softest lips you’ve ever felt. Granted, you only kissed two other boys before, Beomgyu being one of them, but still. He was so confident with it too, guiding you and coaxing you to open up to him, letting him taste you and you him. It was slow, purposeful–so different from Beomgyu’s kisses. 

No. You need to stop thinking about Beomgyu. That was the whole point. Forget Beomgyu. 

“Get off her.” Beomgyu shouts. 

Beomgyu? 

Yeonjun moves away from you, or more accurately is pushed off you. 

“Beomgyu, what are you doing here?” You gasp, horrified at having been caught by him as if you were cheating on him or something. It didn’t help that his reaction made it seem like you are. 

“I was looking for you. I thought I told you to stay away from him.” He hisses, clearly angry which just pisses you off. Whatever fleeting sense of guilt you felt for kissing Yeonjun quickly dissipates in the face of his inexplicable wrath.  

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” You snap back. “And if I want to kiss Yeonjun, I will.” 

“He’s my friend!” He shrieks, as if that means something.

“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t like him.” 

Beomgyu reels at that. “You like him?” 

Both boys stare at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, and you stammer under their gaze. “M-maybe I do.” 

Beomgyu’s face hardens and he turns his back on you and walks out the door without another word. 

What? What did you say? 

“Oh no, did I just fuck up?” You fret, moving to run after him, but Yeonjun grabs your hand, stopping you. “No. You stood up for yourself. If he doesn’t want to be with you then he doesn’t get to tell you who you can be with.” 

“You’re right. He’s not my boyfriend.” You try to assert, but quickly lose your confidence. “And now he will never be. He just saw me kissing his friend! That’s like incest!”

Yeonjun bursts out laughing at that. “What? That’s ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself?” 

You want to be mad at him for trivializing how you feel. This is serious! You may have just lost your chance with Beomgyu! This is no laughing matter!

So then why are you laughing like he’s just cracked the funniest joke you’ve ever heard? “Oh my god, you’re right. What am I even thinking? This is stupid.” You huff out between cackles, “I’m so stupid.” 

Yeonjun stops laughing first, gathering you in his arms and waiting for you to calm down. “You’re not stupid. You’re in love.” 

“Yeah.” You confirm, bitterly. 

“And he’s an ungrateful idiot.” 

“Maybe.” You fiddle with your fingers. “But if there is a one percent chance I can be with him, I don’t want to ruin it by having him think I’m fucking his best friend.” 

Yeonjun sighs, stepping back. “Fine, go to him. Explain what happened to him. But for the record, I think you’re making a huge mistake.” 

“I know.” 

______________________________

You scour the party looking for Beomgyu, but you can’t find him anywhere. Did he leave already? Is he that mad? 

You lament your poor choices as you open up another door, stumbling across yet another couple engaged in less than savory activities with the woman spread out on the edge of the bed and the man with his face buried between her legs. 

“Whoops, sorry!” You yelp, knee-jerk reaction to slam the door shut suddenly halted when the man kneeling on the floor turns towards you and you see an all too familiar face. 

Beomgyu?! 

They both stare at you, Haeun with her dress pushed up and Beomgyu with his lips glistening with something you don’t want to think about. He makes eye contact with you before he turns around and presses his face back between her legs. 

That fucking slut. 

You slam the door shut and storm off with another target in mind. When you spot the colorful haired man, you drag him behind you to one of the empty bedrooms you saw earlier. 

"Hey, what’s going on--" You cut Yeonjun off with a kiss which he doesn’t resist much, making use of the unexpected opportunity. But when you separate, he takes the chance to ask, "What happened to Beomgyu?"

"Fuck him. I want you.” You kiss him again, suddenly nervous about what you’re going to ask now that you’re right in front of him. Still, you push through, murmuring against his lips, eyes sealed shut, "Want you to eat me out."

Unfortunately, Yeonjun doesn’t immediately give in as you had been praying he would, and he pulls back to ask you, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You answer, still refusing to open your eyes. But the asshole won’t accept that. 

“Look at me, doll.” He demands, cupping your face in his hands. You take a deep breath before opening them, looking him dead in the eyes. “I want it.” 

"It just seems–"

"Do it, Yeonjun!" You snap then immediately regret it, feeling mortified at the possible rejection. God, you didn’t think this through, did you? Just because he wanted to kiss you, doesn’t mean he wants to eat you out in the middle of a party. He’s not Beomgyu. "Unless you don't want to."

Yeonjun lifts you up and drops you on the bed, the breath whooshing out of you as you make impact with the mattress. You don’t even get the chance to ask him what the hell he’s doing before he spreads your legs and gets between them. "It's my pleasure, doll."

He starts by licking over your panties, and you’re so glad he is easing you through it because even that makes you tingle. His tongue moves up and down your slit in slow, deliberate strokes, turning you on until you’re not sure if your panties are soaked because of your arousal or his saliva. And once it’s completely see-through, he hooks his finger under it, pulling it to the side. 

The first direct touch of his hot tongue against your sensitive pussy has you jolting, your hands shooting out to grab at the sheets. But Yeonjun pulls away for a second, grabbing your hands and putting them on his head.

"You can hold onto my hair, doll." He grins, looking devastatingly handsome, “Pull on it when I do something you like.” 

That’s a dangerous ask because you’re pulling his hair as soon as he puts his mouth on you again. Not that he minds, you can see his smirk as he stares up at you, tongue teasingly swirling around your swollen clit. 

“Don’t tease.” You whimper, holding onto his hair tightly. 

“Why not? You’ve teased me long enough, pretty girl.” He purrs, pressing soft kisses against your pussy while his thumb rubs maddeningly around your entrance. 

“Yeonjun…” You whine, taking your hands away and trying to close your legs, but he pins your legs back down before returning your hands to his hair. “Keep your hands on me. I like it.” 

“Pull my hair harder. I like it when you’re rough with me."

Beomgyu’s words ricochet inside your skull, tearing up your brain. No. Don’t think about him. He’s in another room with another woman, probably fucking her by now. Focus on the man who actually wants you. 

“Did I lose you?” Yeonjun’s voice cuts through your tortured monologue. 

You look at him, embarrassed at having been caught. 

“Then let me make you forget about him.” He vows, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking on it, making your brain short-circuit. 

“That’s it, doll. Just focus on me.” He flicks his tongue from side to side, causing electricity to shoot up to your belly. 

“Oh god, Yeonjun!” You gasp, pulling at his hair, which just makes him do it with more fervor, alternating between rapid flicks and long languid licks up the entire length of your pussy. You’d be embarrassed by how quickly he builds up your high, if he didn’t look like he was enjoying it so much, moaning into your pussy and staring up at you as if he wants to eat you whole. 

“Feels good?” He smirks, fingers finally breaching your empty pussy. 

“Yes, yes!” You groan, head thrown back as he pumps his fingers inside you, his full lips latching onto your clit once more. 

The feeling of his fingers filling you up, fucking you open, and the unrelenting attack on your clit from his mouth has you teetering on the edge in no time. But then an unwelcome image pops into your brain–Beomgyu with his messy hair and his lips swollen and glistening with arousal–and suddenly it wasn’t Yeonjun between your legs and it wasn’t Haeun Beomgyu was eating out…

No, it was you on the bed and Beomgyu between your legs, looking up at you with his big, brown eyes that seemed to beg you to cum, and you do. You have to bite down on your tongue to stop from screaming his name as you shudder and whine, thighs clamping around Yeonjun’s head. 

Yeonjun. 

You jerk up, orgasm still not quite passed, and blink the haziness away. God, you’re disgusting. 

But Yeonjun has no idea what is going through your head. He has a big smile on his face, proud of himself for making you lose it so easily. 

“You liked that, doll?” He climbs up your body to kiss you, and you hesitantly reciprocate, not wanting him to sense that anything is wrong. But when he starts getting handsy again and you feel his hard cock pressing against you, you quickly push him away. 

"Wait. I can't–I'm sorry.” You stammer nervously. 

“Oh. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…” Whatever lie you were thinking of dies on your tongue when you make eye contact with him. You can’t lie to him. “I just need to go home."

“Of course.” He backs away, but you can see the disappointment on his face. “Is it… because of Beomgyu?” 

You don’t reply, but that is all the answer he needed.

___________________________________

Still, he is gentleman enough to take you home. 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.” You tell him for the tenth time, feeling guilty after basically rejecting him. 

“I know. I wanted to.” He reassures you once again, no hint of annoyance in his voice. “I know Beomgyu usually takes you home, but since he’s… occupied, I didn’t want you to walk home alone.”

“Right.” You mumble, staring at the ground as that painful image of Beomgyu between Haeun’s legs flashes in your mind. “Well, thank you… and I’m sorry. I just don’t think I’m ready yet.” 

“Hey,” He walks towards you, propping your chin up with his finger. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“I know. I just wish things were different. I wish I wasn’t so pathetically in love with him that it feels wrong to even be with someone else. Which is stupid, I know. Beomgyu and I aren’t–” Your phone rings for the 10th time since you left the party, cutting you off, and you glare at the name flashing on the screen. 

“Beomgyu again?” 

“Yes.” You roll your eyes, silencing it. 

“Answer it.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, and he rolls his eyes. “He’s probably worried about you. We left without saying a word to him.” 

Damn it. You guess he’s right. You didn’t even think of that. 

"Hello?" You press the phone to your ear but quickly move it away slightly at the immediate shouting coming from it. 

"Where the fuck are you?" 

"Home." You answer unenthusiastically, which just pisses Beomgyu off more. "You went home by yourself?"

"No, Yeonjun took me home." You elaborate nervously, scared of how he’s going to react, and boy, does he not disappoint. "Well this is just fucking great. I've been looking all over for you, freaked out of my mind that something happened to you and you're back home fucking my friend."

His words reignite your anger all over again. “I didn’t think you’d come up from between her legs long enough to notice.” 

“So you’re getting back at me by fucking him?”

“I didn’t–you know what, Beomgyu. I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to bed."

"I’m not done–" You hang up on him, too exhausted to think about what any of this means. 

"He's not happy, huh?"

"Nope." You sigh. What a fucking terrible night. 

"I don't get him. If he's jealous, why doesn't he just ask you out?"

"He's not jealous. He's just–” Just what? Why is he even acting that way? What is he so angry about? Because you’re ‘fucking’ his friend? So what? “I don't know. It's complicated. We've been messing around and I guess he got annoyed when he saw us kissing."

“Well, are you guys dating?” Yeonjun asks and you almost laugh. “No. Nothing like that. Just… just messing around.”

"Then he has no right to be annoyed." He states simply, and he’s right. He doesn’t, and you can’t make sense of why he is so all you manage is to lamely mumble, "Well, he's protective of me."

To which Yeonjun snorts, "You mean possessive."

Is he? Why would he be? Is it because he is not used to you having a boyfriend before? Not that Yeonjun is your boyfriend.   

"My brain hurts. I need to sleep." You groan, pulling at your hair in frustration before your hands fall to your sides with a slap. “I’m sorry, Yeonjun.” 

“Don’t be.” He reassures you, “I’ll be here when that idiot inevitably does something to completely push you away.”

________________________________

A/N: as always I always love to hear feedback even if it's just how much you'd like to punch gyu lmao. currently i don't know how many parts the remaining plot will be divided into so it could be 2 or 3 more similar sized chapters to this.

just for fun, i'll do a poll every chapter to see if people change their minds on who they want oc to end up with. but i've already decided on what to do so the votes are just for fun

Taglist: @wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop @zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop @skzvcr

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 crusty first kiss rookanis enjoy 🪶

By the time they come out of the Diamond and into the marketplace, even the crystal peddler is closing up.

"Mierda."

"What?" Rook comes to a halt next to him. Little less than a week ago, he would have stepped away from just how close she stands to him.

"I meant to buy groceries. We're out of some spices."

Rook is quiet, like she's working up courage to speak her mind. Strange.

"I mean.. I've got groceries at home, if you still got time."

"How would you know the contents of the cooking rack?" Lucanis asks, despite motioning for her to lead the way. "I've not seen you use it once."

"Because someone always hogs the stove." She playfully knocks her shoulder into his arm. "No, I meant in my pad. It's just- well, up the roofs, but down the road. You get it."

She takes his hand and guides him down the road, up the trellis, over beams and through strategically broken windows.

"It's probably smelly in here," she says as she pulls out a keyring from under her cloak and opens a doorlock hidden behind an overgrown trellis. "Haven't been here in.. oh, over half a year."

"Hit the Antaam and hauled out of Treviso."

"For all the good that did, yeah. Oh, dear, sorry about that!"

Smells like stale air and rotten onions. Spite makes gagging sounds next to him as they both thread themselves through the open frame.

"Kitchenette's over there, you can just pick up whatever you like - let me open another window." She says over there as though her room wasn't so small it was already crowded with two short Crows and a demon.

A grunt, as she breaks open another of her windows. "Curse this forsaken rookery."

Sweet. Rook lives in a rookery.

"I'm sure her name hasn't been Rook her entire life, Spite. Or that she lived in a rookery all her life. How would a babe even get up here?"

If Lucanis had been told a year ago that he would comfortably talk to a demon inside him out loud while his dear is well within earshot, he would have fallen off a beam cackling.

Rook laughs. "It is a little funny, he's not wrong." Smart girl.

"Varric's chosen Rook for the chess piece, though. Says I think in straight lines. Can't imagine why."

"What's wrong with your own name?" Instead of going through her cabinets, he watches her light what seems like enough candles to burn down half of Treviso as she weaves a path through the clutter on the ground. Messy girl.

"He has this old friend of his, from where he comes from, who he'd given it as a nickname. Also an elf. Shorter than both of us, still, apparently. But she was Daisy first, I guess."

"I'm taller than you are."

"And I heard what Teia said to you about me. How you found the one Crow shorter than yourself." No bite or judgement, none at all. He's said worse to Davrin on a good day.

There's a spell of quiet, as he turns to actually take inventory of her reserves and she collects things she wants at the Lighthouse off the floor into an enormous backpack. Clothes, mostly, from the sound of it.

At least, quiet except for Spite logging every individual smell he registers. Every herb, every spice, the old must of damp fabric on wood planks, garlic so rotten the cloves have turned liquid inside. Lucanis' own cologne and Rook's strange mixture of cocoa and wet soil, though he dismisses those as Known and therefore uninteresting.

"Your kitchen is well-stocked, Rook." When she leans against the side of her tall cupboard, her plumed jacket hangs haphazardly over the doorknob behind her. By the door, her overstuffed backpack and a strapped milk crate filled with shoes.

"Don't sound so surprised. I remind you my shit-frys were at least edible, as opposed to whatever Harding does to the poor produce."

"That you call them shit-frys makes me all the more concerned." His sigh is playful, and she knows it. She hands off a basket to him, to collect the kitchenette's loot in.

She moves her hair over her bare shoulder, watches him collect containers of dried herbs, pink salt and ground garlic, syrups, jams. Some jerky, preserved damson.

"I don't actually put shit in it, you know." Through the sleeve of his shirt, she pinches at his arm.

"Do I know that?" She plays at offense when she catches his glance.

"Shit-fry's said faster than random assortment of fried vegetables. If I had grains, I'd call it Crow Feed."

It hits him like a blind bird hits a tall window, the domesticity of what they're doing here.

The achingly familiar weight of her skin on his. The unconditional trust as she lets him raid her kitchen. The fact that, when he'd asked to touch her back just that morning, to rub the visible tension from the muscles along her spine, she'd brushed her hair over her chest and turned away from him.You don't have to ask, Lucanis. You never have to ask.

The way that, even though he holds himself still as marble, his muscles still soften to accomodate for her touch.

Her forehead rests square against his triceps. Fingers curl in the fabric of his waistcoat, the other hand covering the edge of the countertop with the familiar ease of having suffered many injuries at its points.

Lucanis doesn't dare move. The spell of the moment would be broken faster than a splinter takes to skin. Spite runs across all four walls and the ceiling like a rabid cat.

"Never thought I'd see this place again," she admits, quietly. "Funny. I always hated it here. That I could never dream to live anywhere better. That this rancid, abandoned nest covered in birdshit was all my life would ever amount to."

The fingers in the fabric of his waistcoat pat gently against his small back as she collects herself with a deep, steadying breath.

"If you miss it that much," Lucanis starts, slowly. He holds himself so taut he can feel her brows pull together, even through his shirt. "You can always come back. A hideout from the hideout."

He moves to meet her gaze when he can feel her move to look up at him.

"Are you coming, too?"

"If you lead, I will follow."

Spite hurls curses at him in languages Lucanis never heard in his life, for reasons he isn't privy to, but it doesn't matter.

Not with the way Rook looks at him, right now.

"I really want to kiss you, Lucanis," she whispers. Her eyes flick up at his, down at his mouth.

"So do I." Spite chokes on the lump Lucanis tries to swallow out of his throat.

"Oh, good."

And then she leans up and does.

It's short, doesn't even last a heartbeat, and somehow it's both the smallest and the biggest thing that ever happened to him.

Her hand settles, surprisingly warm, on his low back. Even Spite is quiet, crouching in the sink with eyes wide as saucers. Rook's palm is still shielding him from the countertop corner.

People kiss like that all the time. Good-morning, good-night, I'm-still-too-sleepy-to-speak, I-just-felt-like-kissing.

It means nothing, and it means everything.

She comes back up for another.

YES. Again. More!

And another.

Her lips are parted now, wrap warm and soft around his.

Or his around hers.

Lucanis isn't sure.

The noise out of her throat, from balancing on her bad knee, rings loud as a chantry bell to him.

He's still holding on to the sweet potato.

Drops it to steady her, hand near her elbow. The sound turns curious, but she leans into the touch. There's renewed strength behind her lips now.

"Maker provide me," Rook huffs when she comes back down. She abandons the countertop corner, her nails slide onto his welt pocket.

When he looks at her lips, somehow there's more glitter on them than before.

"I could get lost in your puppy eyes for the rest of all time."

Lucanis has neither breath nor words.

So he ducks his face down to hers again.

🪶

this is spite

ALSO I PUT MY THESIS INTO THE HANDS OF MY COORDINATOR TODAY IM FINALLY FREE WHEEEEEEEEEE

also idk what first kisses w someone you actually care about are like dont come for me the reason I write like a wattpad preteen is bc when it comes to intimacy i AM the wattpad preteen

@lanafofana what we talked about is coming i promise <3

[~rina]

[blitzbuckz]

【𐂃】 is she serious ? who doesn't know what a circus is ? HELL, there's flyers all over the buildings when they were in the city. Furthermore it wasn't like their tents were stationary, they used to cover just about every corner of Hell's rings. It's hard to miss ! unless whiskers was living under a huge ass rock -- he couldn't believe they knew nothing about it.

Regardless, the former clown insisted to elaborate it for them. Disregarding the name for now.

❝ Guessin' you don't get around much. It's like ... an arena for acrobats, clowns, and trained animals. Group of entertainers that move around in tents to perform for people's amusements. ❞ he'd quickly summarize, holding himself as it was hard to think back. ❝ It's ... a business thing for the public. It's noisy, you wouldn't like it. ❞ 

@blitzbuckz || x

"Oh.. okay." Black Star wasn't the kind to pry further on a subject if the other party didn't want to continue. Though there was a part of her that really wanted to know why the o was silent in Blitzo's name. When the Imp mentioned he lived in a circus, Black Star's eyes shot up in curiosity. A sinner she had encountered recently mentioned liking circuses. "M-May I ask, Blitzo, what is a circus?" Of course she kept the o silent, as per request.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

genre: angst, hurt comfort, minors dni

word count: 5k

summary: You, both a member of David's group and one of his former victims, are already contemplating escape when Ellie arrives at the resort. Seeking Ellie, you decide to take advantage of the unexpected opportunity to run. But before you can find Ellie, you cross paths with Joel instead.

warnings: age gap, virgin!reader, mentions of past grooming attempt, mentions of cannibalism, past rape attempt, PTSD, blood, canon typical violence, no smut for now, spoilers for s01 e08

a/n: this was previously named let me follow this is also new for me because I've never written virgin!reader before (mostly because i didn't have the best experience with that) but i felt like it was fitting with the story and where i wanna take it in the future.

Revelation 13:3-4 "One of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole world was filled with wonder and followed the beast. People worshiped the dragon because he had given authority to the beast, and they also worshiped the beast and asked, 'Who is like the beast? Who can wage war against it?'"

The wind blows cold. You, a girl who has lost everything, sit on your knees on the ice. Your family has been long gone. Your hope dwindles, hanging only by a simple thread. You don't know how long you've been crying. Your hands, young yet covered in the warmth of blood. The scent of pine reaches your nose, and you sniff involuntarily, just like you did before you lost everything. Before the world ended. You hear the sound of men approaching you, and you wish they would just kill you. Sixteen and already you wish for the sweet mercy of death.

“Now what do we have here?” A man speaks, his tone is humorful. Melodic. Your mind and body already slipping and reaching towards the warmth of it. “You poor young thing. Where’s your family, girl?”

When you finally look up from your hands you see a man on a horse. Typical for this day and age. Near him hovers four others. All of them looking weathered and older than you. Your eyes move back to the one that seems in charge. He has strawberry blond hair and a thin beard of the same color. His eyes narrow slightly. They pop under the cold blue sky and the frozen lake. You don’t know what to say. How to answer this man who is an obvious threat. 

He hops off the horse, and you attempt to move away but your legs are frozen in place, your heart beating loudly against your ribcage. He kneels next to you. Observing. You swallow, fear coating your tongue with the taste of bile. His eyes soften when he takes in the sight of you. Bruised and wounded. Your eyes squeeze shut as he reaches out and pushes a loose strand of hair only for the wind to bring it back. 

“No need to be afraid, child. We’re a peaceful group and there are more like us if you want to join.” 

“J–Join?” your teeth chatter, your lips hurting as you speak. There’s a bit of light filling the cracks of the iron cage of your heart. Hope. You realize it to be. Hope that you found someone to help you. To look after you in this infected world. He must’ve seen it in your expression because his soft smile grows, eyes glimmering with mirth. 

“So afraid,” he hums. “But we’ll change that soon enough. You’ve been brought here for a reason. And I think I know what your purpose is in our small clan.” 

He swiftly stands, leaving you dumbfounded and still upon the freezing ice. Your mouth gapes, your body buzzing with a newfound need to stay alive. 

“What’s your name?” you ask. He throws an old coat over your shoulders. Not his own. But one he had extra on his horse. Probably taken from someone else who was more unfortunate than you. 

“David,” he answers gently, as if he’s scared you’ll run away. Before you reach out, he grabs your hand and lifts you. You nearly fall, only prevented thanks to the strong arm that wraps around your waist. He’s warm. Much warmer than you expected. “Lovely to have you with us.” 

The men near him don’t seem to share the same sentiment but you smile all the same. 

You don’t want to think for a while. Maybe not even for a millennia. If possible. 

10 YEARS LATER

Whispers of death surround you. The names of the fallen circling you and squeezing your heart tight. Suffocated. That’s how you feel. Helpless. Trapped. Consumed. Faint murmurs fill the hall room. The cold that seeps through the wood, the same wood that was intended for summer and not winter, worries everyone, including you. But at the same time, you think this is what you all deserve. An icy grave. Freezing to death and surrendering to the cold. 

You were never meant to feel warmth. You know that better now. 

The chair creaks next to you and when your eyes shift to the side. You see James taking a seat. A sudden rage fills you. An indescribable rage. It disappears as soon as it appears like it always does. He turns to you and gives you a curt nod. You don’t nod back. He might think he’s looking after you but he’s not. All he’s done is turn the other cheek to a faith that is spewed by a liar. A deceiver. A disgusting man that makes your stomach turn—

The aforementioned man finally stands and clears his throat. Loudly. But not loud enough to overpower Hannah’s cries. She sniffles. Rubs her eyes roughly. Her mother wraps an arm around her and starts whispering words of comfort. You have no idea what that comfort would be since it was her father that had died. You remember the day you lost your parents. You felt utterly defeated at the time. Hopeless. Swallowed by darkness. Your eyes rubbed raw and stinging from crying and crying and crying—

David opens the bible and reads. His glasses are perched innocently above his nose. His voice, despite the rasp of time, still carries that melodic lilt. You don’t listen. Refuse to. 

“And I saw a new heaven and a new Earth. For the first heaven and the first Earth were passed away. . .”

You close your eyes with a stuttered breath. Your body is thrumming. Your legs shaking and heart pounding. These are the most painful times for you. The times where you have to listen to him and pretend to be moved by God’s will. You hate hearing his voice. The same voice that told you you were his. The same voice that commanded you to strip for him completely when it was only your arm that was wounded. 

Your pulse quickens. Your cheeks grow warm. 

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. 

It happened years ago but it doesn’t matter. No matter the passage of time it still feels like it happened yesterday. His touch on your cheek. The way his blue eyes ate you up as he stalked around you, pretending to be worried while he was just taking in the sight of your body. A soft touch here and a soft touch there. Knuckles following the curve of your spine. Palms feeling the weight of your behind. The memory makes you sick. The way he was marinating you for something unspeakable. 

He enjoyed when you flinched. Enjoyed the way you whimpered and curled away. He laughed and did nothing else. He wrapped a bandage around your arm while you remained stark naked. Then he left. Leaving it to James to come to the room, telling you to get dressed while averting his eyes. 

You jerk, eyes going wide as a sharp cry echoes within the thin walls. 

“. . . And I heard a great voice out of heaven say, ‘Behold… the tabernacle of God is with men. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes—’”

He’s trying hard to ignore it. You can tell by the way his lips twitch ever so slightly, his nostrils flaring with annoyance when another cry is heard. 

He stops. 

And your heart stops along with it. 

You’re still afraid even when his anger isn’t directed at you. Cold beads of sweat make you feel clammy and gross. You want to hide. And even though you blame him, you want to move closer to James, hoping that whatever it is that’s going to happen, he can shield you from it. 

David turns his gaze towards Hannah and Joyce, Hannah’s mother, and lets out a sigh as if it pains him to see someone so distraught. 

“I’ve read this passage too many times,” He walks towards Hannah, his brows slightly furrowed and eyes full of rue. He places the book on the table and removes his glasses, placing it above it. You’re surprised when he kneels but your stomach twists as he places a hand above Hannah’s knee. She’s unaware, her bottom lip trembling. “Do you remember what comes next?”

She shakes her head. 

“‘And God will wipe away all tears from their eyes… ‘that there will be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither will there be any more pain… for the former things are passed away.’” 

Your eyes move to the crowd. Everyone holding on to one another, eyes red and wet. Hannah takes a sharp inhale, your gaze promptly landing back to the scene. 

“Do you know what that means?” She nods and when she does, David grips her shoulder. “Good.” 

He exchanges a glance with the mother and stands up, a groan dropping from his lips as he does so. You feel a momentary satisfaction at his discomfort. 

“When can we bury him?” 

The question surprises everyone, including David who doesn’t show it. The only oddity is him looking at James, a gaze so quick and short that if you hadn’t been sitting next to James you would’ve missed it. “The ground is too cold to dig. We’ll bury your father in the spring.”

Hannah seems content with the answer for now. The sermon is over when David opens the doors. His eyes linger on you as you get up, slow and groggy. Despite her recent loss, you find Hannah to be lucky. At least she had someone to protect her for a good while, her body free of being viewed as an object that belonged to someone else. 

You don’t look at either James or David as you leave. Not that it mattered. They were too busy talking amongst each other.  

You wipe the snow that catches over your eyelashes with the back of a gloved hand. Everyone had a job to do and yours today was to chop wood in the freezing weather. You hate the feeling of shivering and sweating at the same time. It’s a disgusting feeling. But you were the youngest of the group—and had fallen out of favor with David, which meant that he didn’t try to get into your good graces by giving you the stay-by-the-fire duties. Not that you missed it. You’d rather freeze to death than give any part of yourself to him. 

Your feet drag over the snow. Your biceps ache with the added weight of the firewood within your arms. Breathing from your mouth, your eyes are drawn to one of the sheds. That place always gives you the creeps. It’s always locked. The windows dusty and blocked by cabinets from the inside so no one could see. You never thought of asking what the hell was in there, no one else did either. Everyone just wanted to survive. A herd of sheep following the blood-stained mouth of their leader. Not that they knew he had a blood-stained mouth. That information was only reserved for his victims and James. 

A log slips from the top and you loudly groan towards the sky. You need to leave this hell hole. You don’t know when. But you have to. 

Just as you lean down you sense someone coming towards you at full speed. Jumping, you move back only to see James huffing and puffing with a small package in his hand. You raise a brow. “Weren’t you supposed to be hunting?” you ask, picking up the log. “What the hell are you doing here running like a maniac? ‘Scared the shit out of me.” 

“David is at gunpoint.” Good. “And the crazy girl demanded some medicine. Hopefully, I can sneak up on her.” 

You scoff, “A girl? Since when does David follow any kind of demand?” 

“It’s complicated.” He looks uncomfortable, you must’ve struck a nerve with that. “She’s with the man that killed Alec.”

“You’re taking medicine to her? Actual medicine.” 

“David said. . .” 

You raise a hand and shoo him away, “Just go. I don’t care.” 

Watching him leave, your brows knit tightly together. This had to be a joke, they found the girl and by proxy, the man who killed Alec and. . . David is helping the girl? You don’t necessarily care for revenge— but the fact that he’s actively wanting to show just how kind he is to this girl is suspicion-worthy. He likes what he sees and pulls a curtain over his true colors to obtain it. You know word of this will come out soon. You’re positive that James told at least one person when he went in to get the medicine. It would spread like wildfire. 

And most of the people here, starving and cold with no warmth left in their chests are hungry for the heat of revenge. 

Just like you had predicted rumors were spiraling. 

You’re sitting someplace unnoticeable and near the windows. Snow hits the glass like heavy rain. The clear panels freezing over, you visibly shudder. Your decades-old jacket isn’t enough anymore to keep you warm. 

Your head turns with another whisper coming nearby. Something about a girl being with the man who killed Alec. Your eyes shift to Hannah and her mother sitting in the middle, the young girl seemed furious, her eyes hardened but still carried a juvenile chubbiness in her cheeks. The look doesn’t suit her. It looks like a drop of blood on top of snow. No one is touching their food. Steaming bowls of meat sitting on top of weathered tables. You’re not hungry so you push it away. You’re hoping with every fiber in your body that they haven’t found the girl. You wouldn't wish David on even your worst enemy.

The doors open with a loud, bone-chilling creak. You jump at the sound. Soft flakes of snow hurry inside, melting as soon as the light touches them. James holds the door open for David and the latter, with great effort, drags a large stag inside. The entire room stops breathing, their eyes glued to the scene, their minds full of questions. 

The door closes. Suddenly you feel trapped and suffocated. 

“Big one,” David says, looking towards the tables with a crooked smile. Not even one person is talking now. Just deafening silence. James moves away quickly, his eyes find yours, and takes a seat next to you. You’re not sure why he hovers around you. Maybe in some sick way, he thinks you’re friends? 

David sighs loudly, bringing your attention back to him. “If you’ve heard a rumor… yes, we found a girl who was with the man who took Alec from us. When the sun rises, I’ll lead a group out to pick up her trail. Won’t be hard to find in the snow. We’ll follow it to wherever they’re hiding… and we’ll bring that man to justice.”

“You should kill him. You should kill both of them.”

David’s head snaps towards the vengeful voice. Your blood freezes, a tingle settling at the base of your neck, your skin grows taut over your muscles. You’re afraid. And your fear only grows when David stalks towards the girl, a faint smile on his lips, he removes his gloves. One by one. His movements slow, unrushed. He stands in front of Hannah, briefly stares down at her—

You flinch at the sound. The loudest smack and thud you’ve ever heard. Your eyes widen, heart beating in your throat as your eyes remain glued to Hannah who’s scrambling on the floor. David seems unbothered by it. Like he hadn’t just backhanded a young girl. The mom stands, murmurs getting louder, without thinking you attempt to get up too, thinking of all the ways you can kill the man. 

But James—fucking James—he stops you with a hand on your knee. You give him a disgusted look and he quickly pulls his hand away. But the damage was done. You settle back, the chair groaning underneath you. 

You watch as David halts the mother with a single hand, gently gesturing her to sit back down. She does—she does and it drives you insane. It’s surreal almost. There’s a loud hum in your ears as David kneels next to Hannah, her eyes looking anywhere but him. Scared, she takes David’s offered hand. You feel sick. Your stomach churns, bile rising to your throat. He helps her up and sits her down. He’s still on his knees, his eyes soft. 

Disgusting. 

“I know you think you don’t have a father anymore. But the truth is, Hannah, you will always have a father. And you will show him respect when he’s speaking.”

Tension rises with his words. You can tell from the brief glances that happen behind David’s back. However, it’s not enough. No one does anything. They just sit and wait as Hannah’s mother brings David a bowl of food. They begin to eat, the rest follows. 

Spoons clink. Wind blows. Birds caw.  

You look down at the meat, clutching the fork in your hand. You can’t. Something disturbs you. James also lingers before he takes the first bite. Something in his eyes makes you rather starve than taste. 

You look back at Hannah. Her bottom lip is trembling, her cheek red. 

She eats. 

“Where is she?” 

David’s eyes glimmer with amusement, his teeth showing as he smiles. You’re out in the open. Snow falling all around you. Your chest squeezes. You can barely breathe, yet your chest continues to rise and fall. 

“Is my little lamb jealous?” Heat simmers under your skin. How fucking dare he? “Head back. This doesn’t concern you.” 

“Like hell, it doesn’t,” you snap. His eyes narrow and for a brief moment, your mind flashes images of him tying you to the bed whenever you swore. A nasty shiver crawls up your spine. “Let her go.” 

“And why would I do that?” he shakes his head. “Do you want to know why I never touched you again? I got bored. I knew I could have you whenever and wherever I wanted. The fire in your eyes died. You had no fight left in you.” he chuckles. You’re trembling now, your legs feeling weak underneath you. “And I enjoyed seeing the fear in your eyes whenever I entered the room. . . wondering. . . thinking about when I would finally make you my own.”  

You don’t know what to say. The snowfall picks up in pace. Hurling, dancing around you both. A sign of a storm. The cold kisses your cheeks. David grins and extends his arms towards the sky, you take a step back. 

“I finally found myself a pet that’s fun to play with. Someone that won’t be so easily broken.” 

Broken. Broken. Broken. 

That’s what you are, isn’t it? Broken. Alone. Unwanted. 

You have to get to the girl and get the hell out of here. 

You lift your chin, “You’re sick.” 

Bad move. His nostrils flare with anger as he grips your chin and forcefully brings you closer to his face. As someone who went on and on about you being too submissive for his liking, he sure as hell seems to hate that you’re defying him. 

“Don’t you dare talk back to me,” he spits, squeezing your jaw until your lips part with a whimper. “I'm the one who saved you and spared you. I’m a good man but never forget that you belong to me.” Without hesitation, he cups you between your legs. You stiffen at the touch, fear chills your skin, feeling little pins needling into your muscles. “You’re mine to break and when I do, you'll love it. And you'll finally be a woman.” 

He doesn’t linger. Leaving you, he disappears between the cabins. You collapse to the snow, shaking, trembling and tears flooding your eyes. You fist at the snow, your fingers becoming numb as it melts between your fingers. You were a fool to think that you were safe. You genuinely thought that after so long he’d let you do your own thing within the community. But no. He still had his eyes on the “prize”.

You want to run into the forest but you can’t. Your eyes fall to the ground where his footsteps are perfectly visible. Now you know where the girl is. 

The door that is always locked is open. 

Your brows knit together as you observe the old wood swaying back and forth due to the wind. Your skin is icy cold. Coming closer you see that the lock had been broken, shattered. You see a spray of blood on the snow and that entices you to take a step forward into the dark cabin. You know you shouldn’t be taking any detours. Your backpack is secured tightly against your back filled with essentials and some sentimental items you gathered during the years. You should go. But you’re curious. You have to know what’s been in this shed for all these years. 

You sigh. Curiosity killed the cat. 

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you murmur. 

You pull out your gun, your finger on the trigger as you explore. It seems pretty standard. Some items, lots of dust—

Two large hands shove you roughly against the wall. You choke, all the air leaving your lungs as your gun is knocked out of your hand. Momentarily you’re pulled away and slammed back against the wall again, this time the back of your head thudding against the wood. You groan in pain. Your body screaming at you to run and hide. 

“Where is she?” you hear a man hiss through gritted teeth. “Where the fuck is she?” 

You’re slammed once more, tears prick the corner of your eyes and you barely manage to raise your hands. 

When you finally manage to open your eyes, panting heavily, you see a disheveled man. At first glance, he doesn’t make you feel that you’re in danger—which is an ironic feeling considering the throbbing at the back of your head is his doing. Lines run across his face, his eyes full of worry and anger. You immediately know who he is. There was only one girl after all. 

“You’re—” you swallow. “You’re him.” 

His hand tightens around your throat and a gun is hastily pressed against your forehead, “Tell me where she is or I’m shootin’ you.” 

“I’m actually trying to find her myself,” you answer, which by the looks of it was the wrong this to say. “I—I wanted to help her. Free her. David. . . the man that took her—he’s a monster.” 

His eyes narrow, “You from this community?” 

“He took me in when I was sixteen,” you explain. “I had no choice but to join.” 

“And why should I trust you?” 

“Because I know exactly where she is,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “And I know that you’re hurt. I can help.” 

“Then what?” 

You shake your head, not understanding. He clarifies. “You help me and then what? What’s the catch?” 

Your eyes blur with tears. You’re just so fucking tired. 

“I just want to leave.” 

Something about the way you whisper must’ve wake something in him because he lets you go. He lights the flashlight. “I ain’t in the business of takin’ in strays.” 

What? “What?” 

“Just leave. I don’t need your help.” 

“You—You don’t understand!” Just as he turns you jump towards him, fisting the back of his jacket, the fabric isn’t soft enough for you to get a good grip on him so you grab his shoulder instead. “He’s a monster! Everyone fucking underestimates him—he’ll—he’ll—!”

He stills. Rushed steps coming to a halt. You think he’s going to shove you off, push you away but he’s glued. With the fear of silence, you pull back and step to the side. He’s still not acknowledging you. His hard gaze glued to where the flashlight is illuminating. You follow the light speckled with dust. Horror curling in your stomach like a hook. 

There are three of them. Three bodies hanging like animals being prepared to cut into pieces. 

“Oh god—” 

You bring your hands to your head, your heart ramming into your chest, you shake your head. “No, no, no, no—” You take a step back. The man rips his gaze away from the bodies, away from what it implies. You take another step back and another. You’re shaking, your eyes glued to the floor. He—David—he fed you people. 

Fucking people. People that you knew.

Finally, the scent hits you. The smell of flesh and blood. 

You scream. 

The man is on you in an instant, you tumble to the ground and he goes down with you willingly. “Shit—no no no. Shut the hell up— shut the hell up.”

The knot that forms in your throat is large and uncomfortable. You bawl your eyes out, hiccuping against his chest. He takes you into his arms and you can’t be bothered to think of the why of his actions. His biceps tighten around you. You’re still shouting, still thrashing around, crying—he presses you further into his chest, muffling your sounds. You vaguely hear him shushing you, telling you it’s gonna be alright. Lies. He’s telling you lies. 

You start to quiet down and only then do you begin to make sense of his words. He’s murmuring bits of his life. Of what he’s seen. You finally learn the name of the girl: Ellie. The thick baritone of his voice is like a melody. It soothes you. Maybe not fully. But it helps calm your raging heart. You breathe. He smells like wood and snow. 

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, pulling away. “Please let me help you.” 

“Yeah—Yeah, you can help.” He guides you to your feet in a way that your back is turned to the bodies. Just the thought of what's behind you makes your lungs cave in. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, desperate for any kind of distraction. 

“Joel.” 

“Alright, Joel,” you head towards the door. “Let’s go.” 

She escaped. 

You can’t help but be impressed at the sight of an empty cell. But the pride for a girl you haven’t officially met dies in your throat when you see who’s against the wall, covered in blood. 

“You knew him?” Joel asks, his tone lacking any kind of grief. A question asked more so as a courtesy than actual worry. 

You stare at him. His blue eyes now lifeless, lips parted. It almost looks like he’s sitting, just taking a rest on the cold floor. It would be easy to make you believe that if it wasn’t for the cleaver sticking out of his neck. 

“No,” you answer dryly. Yet, you still walk to the dead man and gently close his eyes. You warned him this would happen. Joel doesn’t ask any more questions. He doesn’t have to. “We need to find her before David gets to her.” 

Joel immediately rushes out, you following him close by. You feel utterly useless. You have no idea where Ellie might’ve run off to. It doesn’t help that some part of your brain is still occupied with James. You hated him in a way but still, he was there. You’ve known him nearly your entire life. It felt off to be the one to close his eyes. 

The storm had stopped. The sun reflecting from the snow irritating your eyes. Joel seems to be getting irritated with every step. Desperate. 

He’s the one that sees her first. 

Ellie staggers out the large building currently being engulfed in flames. Her walk is uncoordinated, her steps uneven as she breathes in the icy air. Before you can warn Joel not to startle her, he’s already running, grabbing her by the shoulders. Your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces when you hear her screams and shouts. 

“It’s me,” Joel says, cradling her face with both hands. She hits his chest with sideway fists, he holds her more firmly. “It’s me.” 

You see it in her face, the exact moment she realizes. You see blood splattered across her face, her expression hurts you. It’s the same expression you’ve seen on yourself for years. 

“Hey… look. It’s me… It’s me. It’s okay.”

She mumbles, “He—” Before Ellie can complete the sentence she wraps her thin arms around Joel, the man hugs her tight. Your heart shatters then. The damns you were so adamant on keeping locked being teared down by people you barely know. 

You cry. Salty tears just bursting out of your eyes. There’s no slow build, no single tear and then the rest. It just all comes down flooding. Your shoulders sag, your fingertips numb. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”

You sniff and look up to the sky. Fuck. It’s so hard to stop when it begins. You see grey smoke rising into the crisp air. He’s dead. You don’t need to see the body to know that he is. 

Your eyes drop to the two survivors embracing infront of you. That girl saved your life while you were trying to save hers. You were too late. Both of you were. She looked the beast in the eye and slayed it. Freeing you. 

They part and Joel quickly wraps his jacket around her tiny trembling shoulders. You’re empty. What now? That was his question. You don’t know. Do you go back? Do you explain to the people who David manipulated just how horrendous he really was? Would they believe you? 

Your eyes are drawn to a flicker of movement. Joel is looking straight at you. Ellie still unaware of your presence and you can’t blame her. 

You’re lost. 

But then his eyes soften with something akin to understanding and he gestures you to follow. 

Like a lamb to a stream, you do. 

[scoobysnakz]

Older

ii

i know this doesn’t hit as hard as the first part. i genuinely wanted this to be a one shot so i had no ideas on how to continue this. there’s like no plot so i sincerely apologise if this is complete shit 😭

Miguel basks in the warmth that is you, plush thighs trembling and innocent eyes watery. Every soft whimper, every delicate mewl of his name sends a heat that's almost comforting down his spine and drips into his core like a sickly sweet mixture of syrup and addiction.

You look so pretty like this, he might just keep you here, his princessa, a beautiful girl who deserves to be kissed and held by a man who can look after her.

He doesn't know how long he's had you like this, core aching with your nth climax and cunt clenching for more, but he loves it.

He's still teasing you, one finger curling up so that it can hit that spongey part that makes your eyes roll. It doesn't matter how many times you try to take control, hint at how badly you crave his cock, which you just know is huge, he insists on only fingering you. With one finger.

“So fucking tight,” he praises as you cum for what must be the millionth time, “can't ruin your perfect pussy with my cock. Lemme spoil you, hmm?”

And you nod, try to anyway, your body weak and brain melted. You can't count how many times he's made you cum, your poor, overstimulated clit weeping tears of arousal and jaw hanging slack.

A soft thumb comes up to your chin and wipes away the sticky trail of saliva that leads down to your jaw as he tuts his disapproving sympathy.

“Migs,” you finally manage, trembling lips grazing his neck as you flop down in fatigue, “I-I can't.”

Hearing your sweet, fatigued voice so close to his ear makes his cock stiffen. But he can't do anything about it, not when you're a twitching mess that can't sit up straight.

Carefully, Miguel sits you upright, calloused hand gently stroking your lower back in soothing circles. You whine at the emptiness that replaces his finger as he pulls it out with a slick squelch.

You pant heavy, tired, needy breaths that rasp in your mouth and puff in your chest. A weak smile finds its way onto your lips and Miguel swears his heart stops.

He hasn't even fucked you yet you look at him as if he's responsible for the moon pulling the tides.

“‘S okay, niña bonita,” he whispers, voice as soft as the look in his eyes.

With any other girl, he would have kept his finger in, giving her a second one and maybe pepper half-hearted kisses on her neck. But with you, knowing he can only go so far before you start hiccuping and holding back tears is almost just as erotic, if not more.

You let your body ease, thighs spread wide for him to see your pulsing cunt scarcely concealed by the loose, fraying threads of your suit that he's torn. He can smell your juices and it's taking all of his self-restraint not to flip you over and lap up your arousal from your aching folds.

You feel safe in his arms, safe enough to let your stomach relax instead of sucking in, safe enough to yawn while staring lazily at him, safe enough to let your eyes slowly flutter shut and a warm slumber creep up on you.

He peppers gentle kisses against your jugular, nipping at your delicate skin and savouring the soft mewls that escape your sleeping lips.

You look so angelic like this. Lashes meshed together and flutter with every small twitch. Your arms draped over his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Cunt glistening with the orgasms he pulled from you.

Then you wake up, a soft yawn escaping you as you stretch your delicate arms, blissfully unaware of the fact your panties are ripped in half and Miguel’s fingers are sticky with your arousal. You bury your head further into his neck, eyes glued shut as your brain fights off fatigue and the urge to recollect the reason why you feel so lightheaded.

A large hand smooths your spine while a second one rests on your shoulder. You’re warm and tired, a combination that is dangerous in situations such as this. “Miggy.”

That one’s new. It's more teasing, sickly sweet and wrapped in the sugar dusting that's your voice. It's not as blunt, playful and innocent as ‘Migs’, something about it is more… intimate.

He lets it sit for a moment, not answering your call and toying with the way it settles in his chest and listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. After a few seconds he gives in, “Go to sleep, princessa,” he instructs, and you obey.

Something about the way you melt into him makes him smile. His entire life has been void of physical contact but as soon as you turned up he's had nothing but small hand squeezes, warm hugs and the feeling of soft skin against his as you lean against him.

And for that, he owes you everything. He's willing to do it, buy whatever, fix whatever, kill whoever. If it makes you happy then it makes him happy.

Miguel decides he likes this, being allowed to be so protective over you. No one is here to give him looks of disapproval and jealousy as you follow him around like a lost puppy. He can just hold you, imagine a life of spoiling you and coming home to you with open arms, ready and waiting for whatever he craves from you.

He can buy you all the clothes you gasp at as you walk down the street, peering through the reflective glass windows and trying to hide how badly you want it.

He can watch you give him a mini fashion show, parading the new frocks he's bought and twirl you round and round.

He can help you with your career, you're a smart woman and he doesn't want to take that from you. You deserve everything you've worked hard for.

He can hold you just as tightly as he is now but in his, no, your bed, your shared bed. And kiss your rosy cheeks, nuzzle into your neck, walk his fingers up and down the arch of your back.

You shift in his lap and his hips involuntarily buck up, something that makes his gut twist with guilt. He's reminded that you are clinging to him, trusting him after he's turned your brain into slush. And that he should make you a new suit.

Reluctantly, he stands up, you held close to his chest and your arms hanging limp. He knows he should take you home, leave you in your bed for your asshole roommates to find you and get woken up by your alarm. But he doesn't want to.

He takes you home, to his home. Where he can look after you.

This might be kidnapping but it wasn't exactly against your will, not when you were cumming all over his hand not long ago.

You mould into his apartment so easily that it's impossible for him to remind himself that you don't actually live here with him. The subtle smell of your body wash mingles with his floor cleaner and fabric softener, so, so perfectly, as if you've been there since he's moved in.

It's all come full circle. He's dreamt of this so many times and here you are, curled up on his sofa, a blanket draped over your sleeping form and head propped up by pillows.

He runs the backs of his fingers along your arm, smiling warmly as your arm jerks at the contact. The dim light from his lamp illuminates the contours of your features. It's an almost ethereal glow that highlights your beauty, your innocence.

That guilt finds its way back into his gut. The beautifully weak position you've pulled yourself into by default is painful for him to see. Part of him feels as though he's taken advantage of you, pulled too hard at your emotions, warped your young mind with his wicked ways.

Yes, you snuggled into him before but that's because you don't view him as someone to be feared. But he is.

The sacred being that is your intricate soul chose him to follow around and regard as a role model and he's taken advantage of that. A sick, twisted part of his loves that.

That corrupt and messed up part of him wants you to worship the ground he walks on, wants you to feel like nothing without his praise, wants to be so toxicly possessive over you that it drives his morals over the edge. He wants to fuck you good and rough, pull tears from your rolling eyes and needy moans from your stuttering lips.

Before, when you sauntered in with his lunch and that incandescent smile on your face, he didn't expect it would end up like this- admitting his most perverted desires.

You fuck with his mind in ways someone your age shouldn't. You make him crave the most horrific things, drive him to an insanity he never knew existed, and create dirtied thoughts that make his skin crawl and cock harden.

Sighing, he pulls himself off of his sofa and slumps down on the floor next to it. Maybe when you wake up you'll panic, not knowing your surroundings but instantly calm down when you smell his heavy Cologne. Or maybe you'll hit the roof. Either way, he wants to be near you so he can experience each and every one of your emotions.

Careful not to wake you, he leans up and presses a soft kiss to your lips. Your scent fills his nostrils and he has to force himself off of you.

“Qué duermas bien, Princesa.”

Taglist: @lauraolar14 @miguels-aranita @fruitychae @miyaluvvsyou @friendlyserial @tashames @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

[bleuczennie]

genre: drabble, smut, bf!jisung

smut tags: mirror sex, cockdrunk-ness ofc, squirting, dom!jisung, praise, a little aftercare, pet names

friendly reminder that this is FICTION, okay? okay

i’m just imagining mirror sex with park jisung like…

his large hand in your hair gripping so deliciously hard that your scalp tingles as he fucks into you relentlessly, keeping your head up and reminding you to keep your eyes open when he sees them flutter shut.

“eyes open, look how pretty you are baby.” he coos, thrusts never faltering, “so fucked out, just for me.” you jolt at a sudden slap on your soft ass, jisung accentuating each word with a thrust.

your mouth falls open, eyes squinting as you desperately try to keep eye contact with yourself through the large floor to ceiling mirror you just had installed in your shared master bedroom. his hand unravels in your hair only to drop to your throat, pulling your body flush against his to view in the mirror.

the new angle makes his cock nudge at your cervix with each thrust, making your eyes roll back. he was so impossibly deep, you felt like he could reach your heart with his long and girthy cock. the slippery drag against your g-spot had your body going slack in his arms, head tipping back as your body shivered against him.

“c’mon princess, we’re not done just yet,” he rasped in your ear as he took his free hand and circled your clit, turning your shallow breaths into whines and mewls of pain and pleasure. you felt so close again, teetering on the edge of orgasm number three tonight.

your moans rose in pitch as you reached back to grasp the side of jisung’s neck, bracing yourself as your orgasm hangs on by a thread.

“that’s my good girl, come for me baby,” jisung groaned out, flicking your sensitive nub vigorously as he finally reached his orgasm, fucking his cum into you as he rode out his orgasm.

you let out an obscene and near pornographic moan as your core bursts, warm liquid squirting out of you and onto the mirror as jisung rubs his fingers in quick side to side motions on your clit, making you ride out your orgasm on his hand. your essence splashes all over your legs and the floor and if it wasn’t for jisung’s hand still loosely around your neck, you would’ve face planted right onto the floor.

jisung can’t help the grin of accomplishment as he feels you go limp in his arms, your body absently twitching from overstimulation. “aww, my poor baby,” he scoops you up bridal-style and starts the walk to your bathroom, thoughts only of cleaning up the mess both you and he made.

“let’s get you cleaned up mama, okay?” you faintly hear as your boyfriend settled you in the large bathtub and turned the faucet on while he poured your favorite bubble bath scent in, before settling himself behind you and pulling you flush to his firm and toned chest. you decided not to fight exhaustion any longer, letting the soft and loving touches of your boyfriend and the warm water lull you to sleep.

a/n: am i the only one that thinks jisung saying ‘mama’ as like an endearment name with his voice would be soooooo cute like? i don’t have a mommy kink i promise—

©️bleuczennie

[nerdasaurus1200]

It will never not be heartbreaking how even now Rapunzel tries so hard to utilize the mask of her optimism. Especially if she’s around other people, she refuses to let others see her in despair. And you can tell here, the poor girl is hanging by a thread emotionally.

[azsazz]

Strips and Sutures

Daddy!Cassian x Reader

Summary: Cassian helps stitch up his daughters doll.

Warnings: None, fluff!

Word Count: 1,208

_________________________________________

“Daddy! Daddy!” The screams for him are ones he hopes he never has to familiarize himself with. Choked cries for help through shaky breaths on lungs too little to sound so loud.

Cassian’s heart screeches to a halt in his chest. His fingers clench around the utensils he’s using to swipe jam onto a slice of bread for his daughter’s lunch. The blunt butterknife isn’t his first choice of a weapon but he could make it work, has made less work. He knows there’s no intruder in his home, you had taken Gideon and Castor to school today and were running some errands in town, leaving Cassian and your youngest daughter, Sif, to some time alone.

The metal clangs loudly against the countertop as he darts from his station, the snack splattering on the stone with a squelch by the time he’s through the doorway, on his way to find his daughter. He can hear her little feet pattering his way and he slows his pace so he doesn’t go barreling into her.

He’d only left her alone for hardly a minute, how could something have gone so wrong already?

“Sif?” He calls out, halting with warrior-like quickness as his daughter rounds the corner, stumbling right into his legs. She buries her face into his shin, wrapping her arms around his calf with surprising strength for a four-year-old.

She has fat tears rolling down her ruddy cheeks and it takes some effort to pluck her from his pants to cradle her in his arms, the doll she’s clasping to sweeping up with her. A quick scan proves nothing wrong; no cuts or bruises to be seen, and Cassian brushes away her unruly hair sticking to her cheeks.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you hurt?” He asks because he doesn’t know what else to do. She’s full on sobbing now, hugging the doll tightly to her chest like a lifeline. The sight makes his heart ache, he’ll do anything to see her happy.

He’s a split second away from calling out to Rhys or alerting you through the bond because of the absolute pain rushing through his veins. Cassian’s become accustomed to the accidents and cries of his children, but it never gets easier.

“No,” Sif sniffles, blinking the tears from her big, beautiful hazel eyes. She holds up her doll but it’s much too close to his face to be able to see what she’s pointing out. “But Ms. Genavieve is!”

Cassian leans away, uncrossing his eyes to see the slight tear in the little doll, right where her arm and body meet. He lets loose a breath, shoulders melting in relief because Sif is perfectly in one piece, even if her toy isn’t.

“My poor baby,” Cassian coos, brushing her hot cheeks, wet with tears, once more. He rocks her against his chest, soothing the upset babe in his arms, pressing kisses to her forehead. “Daddy can fix her, don’t you worry.”

Tears line her eyes as she looks from the doll to him, and Cassian wants to cry at the way her little lip juts out in a pout, wobbling as she questions him. “You can?”

“Of course, pretty girl,” he soothes, “Let’s find mommy’s sewing kit and then I’ll finish your lunch. You can eat while I sew up Ms. Genavieve.”

“Okay,” she nods, fingering the threads hanging loose from her doll.

Cassian carries her throughout the house, beelining for the closet he knows you keep all of the miscellaneous supplies within the home. Sewing kit, medical box, art supplies, and games line the shelves, overwhelming in itself. 

He lets loose a sigh, beginning his search.

“Come on mommy, come on mommy,” he mutters, scanning the shelves, shoving things out of the way. “Where is it? Ah-ha!”

Sif giggles at his excitement, pulling the kit from the shelf. Cassian kicks the door shut, cringing when he hears something clatter to the ground on the other side.

He’ll blame it on Gideon when he gets home.

They make their way back to the kitchen where Cassian sets Sif in her seat, pulling it up to the counter. He rounds the counter, grimacing at the half of the sandwich that landed face down on the counter. Sif giggles, still holding her doll tightly to her chest as Cassian shrugs, folding the bread in half and stuffing it in his mouth as he reaches for a fresh slice for his daughter.

“Can’t let that go to waste now, right Siffy?” he mumbles through the mouthful.

She wrinkles her nose in response, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, daddy.”

Yep. Definitely her mother’s daughter.

He makes quick work of making her sandwich, humming and making silly faces to keep her happy while he does so. Sliding the plate across the counter to her makes Sif giggle and his heart soar. He fills a cup with milk for her to sip on and clears his station before setting it all up for Ms. Genavieve’s procedure.

Cassian matches the strand to the color of the fabric, and threads the needle and sets the doll before him, all of the supplies he needs are ready by the kit should he need them.

He takes a deep breath, glancing up to his daughter who has her sandwich occupying both hands, a tiny bite taken from the middle of it. Sif chews while she watches intensely, waiting for him to make his first move and it makes him more nervous than it should. He doesn’t want to disappoint his little girl.

Cassian stares at the tear. It’s not big by any means, and Mother be damned if he’s going to wait for you to get home or ask one of the wraiths to help him. He’s sewed up injuries plenty of times, when he’d been on missions or in wars and needed to quickly close a wound so he wouldn’t bleed out before getting to a healer. He’d even patched up Az once, back when they were teens and the shadowsinger was much too nervous to go to the medical tent because of the pretty girl that he couldn’t seem to stay away from. 

The shadowsinger wouldn’t let him near with a needle since. 

“Right,” he mutters, lowering the needle, “Nice and easy now.”

The first stitch is the worst, but Sif doesn’t make any noises to tell him he’s doing it wrong so he keeps going, keeping focused on the task at hand. He makes the suture as straight as possible, taking his time to align them perfectly, not skipping over any areas and pulling the thread tight before tying it off with perfection. 

“Well, little Miss Sif, I think Ms. Genavieve is very happy to once again have her arm at full capacity,” Cassian boasts, holding up her doll like a trophy. Sif cheers from her seat, making grabby hands for the toy and he hands it over before realizing with a start that she’s probably a mess from her lunch.

Indeed, she smiles, hugging the doll tightly to her chest and rubbing her jam-smeared face against the cloth toy. He cringes, sighing as he packs away the sewing kit.

“I suppose we should get Ms. Genavieve in the bath now, right, Siffy?”

[rebouks]

Robin’s first day at school after the winter holidays was just like any other; painful, overwhelming, and slightly boring.

There was a myriad of reasons he didn’t want to be here, but Oscar and Courtney were adamant it was somehow important-.. and mandatory, so Robin didn’t have a choice. They’d become immune to his avoidant shenanigans over time too, no longer were they so easily fooled, even when he’d made himself sick on purpose.

 He’d given up eventually, the worried glances they’d exchange each morning proving to be as tiresome as school itself. Pretending to be fine was better than being shipped off to some snooty shrink again; one who wouldn’t believe him anyway, who couldn’t even imagine the nonsense he was subject to on a daily basis, despite their fancy certificates hanging behind their fancy desks.

Robin was completely mute whilst at school, save for the odd whisper to Jude or sometimes Jacob, if necessary-.. but never Juniper. She was too condescending with her concern and far too obvious. He wanted to fade into obscurity, not be thrust into the limelight by an overzealous cousin trying to do the “right” thing by speaking on his behalf.

He’d resorted to telling her off in the end, her lip quivering as he explained how she was only making things worse. Robin wasn’t sure what had surprised her more, the fact that he was so vehemently opposed to being defended, or that he’d spoken to her at all. She’d acquiesced though, so that was something.

The only person he spoke to properly was nurse Wiles, or Silvia, as she insisted at this point. The cacophony of voices and Robin’s general disdain for being trapped in this hellish building for six hours a day usually resulted in a pounding headache and a disgusting, dissolvable aspirin; he was her most frequent visitor, discounting the child that was practically allergic to everything in sight.

He kept to himself as much as he could, scrawling out enough work to avoid being pulled up and listening to music wherever he could. He had a solid collection of tiny I-pod shuffles and headphones by now, enough to rotate between classes as they inevitably wound up being seized by exasperated adults.

His favourite deception were the decoy headphones, their obnoxious size drawing immediate attention and victorious confiscation. He’d huff and hand them over in defeat, only to thread a smaller more inconspicuous pair beneath his shirt and tuck them under his thick, curly mop as soon as their backs were turned; they were none the wiser, content with their perceived punishment. Robin thought teachers were supposed to be smart…

Though Robin’s long tangle of curls were useful in some ways, they also drew their fair share of unwanted attention. As if being provoked, shoved, tripped, and called “Mutey” wasn’t enough, he was often referred to as a girl, particularly by the other boys.

He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hilarious, or why it never got old, especially since it was painfully obvious by now that he didn’t give a shit. He was used to being the proverbial punching bag. Being as different as he was obviously made him an easy target, almost as though he had a bullseye permanently woven into the fabric of his jumper.

He’d surmised that they had their reasons for picking on him though; some had parents who were just as cruel, some had none at all, some were desperate to fit in, and some were just too stupid to know any better.

Either way, Robin had decided a long time ago that he’d rather they mithered him with their so-called bullying than risk upsetting some poor schmuck who wasn’t privy to the concealed insecurities that diluted their venomous words and wicked laughter.

Most of Robin’s classes were raucous, yet dull. He could barely hear himself think over the combined clamour of diligent workers and class clowns, and since he could usually glean the answers to any questions from his classmates or the teachers themselves, he never saw much point in trying.

He knew it probably wasn’t great to miss out on the “working out” part of the work, but it was too hard to concentrate even if he’d wanted to. Oscar always helped him with his homework after dinner anyway, so a least he wasn’t going to end up completely lacking in the brain cell department-.. hopefully.

Swimming lessons and PE weren’t so bad, but art was his favourite class of all. Most people got too caught up in what they were doing to daydream noisily or obsess over potentially incorrect answers. There was no right or wrong when it came to creation, and Robin was actually good at drawing, painting, or whatever else his sticky fingers fancied throwing together.

His art teacher even let him wear his headphones during class too, so he’d get to sit at the back of the room in a blissful cocoon of loud music and pencil shavings, wishing every period were this laid back.

All in all, school was utter shite; and at the end of each terrible day when the bell finally rang, Robin was beyond glad that it was over.

Previous // Next

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— weird but lovely trophies

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: descriptions of gore

summary: wednesday wakes up one morning to find a dead bird at the foot of her bed. she doesn't pay it too much thought, but then mauled animals start to appear in her room with alarming frequency

word count: 2.7k

Wednesday opened her eyes, squinting, her palms rising to her face to rub at her tired lids. It was early in the morning, and she definitely should’ve went to bed instead of pulling an all – nighter with working on her novel, making her usual writing time drag out well into the late hours. Her head throbbed, and the light coming through the huge window seemed too much for her sensitive self.

“Good morning, Wednes- Oh no!”

Talk about being a morning person.

Wednesday sat up in her bed, turning her head to face her sunny roommate begrudgingly. Enid was still in her pastel pink pajamas, the strap on her shirt sliding down her shoulder as she buried her hand in her disheveled blonde hair. She was standing a little away from her friend’s bed, looking at something on the floor with a put – off expression.

“Is my presence that much of a spoil for your perfect morning?” Wednesday deadpanned in a tired hoarse voice.

“No, it’s not that! Look!”

Following Enid’s gaze, the gloomy girl noticed a small feathered lump laying at the foot of her bed. It was a small bird, and the rusty – red color of its tummy with the blue – grey cap gave Wednesday’s trained eye enough hints to say it was a chaffinch. Those birds were a common thing in Jericho, and she often saw them flying around on Nevermore’s grounds.

Wednesday watched Thing pop up from under her bed and slowly move towards the finch, poking at it with his finger, then give the ravenette a sad thumbs-up – yep, definitely a goner.

"Poor thing..." the blonde werewolf murmured solemnly, crouching down next to the small creature, "How did it get in here?"

"Maybe it hit the window and opened the sash with the force of the blow," Wednesday mused, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, her pale naked feet touching the cold floor, "Don't touch it. Its insides are probably filled with ptomaine already," she watched Enid make a face of disgust and quickly retract her hand that was trying to reach for the bird, and bent over to carefully take the small cold body into her own palms, "I'll bury it in the schoolyard. I'm used to laying dead animals to rest since my childhood."

As Wednesday held the tiny creature, looking it over, she noticed lacerations covered in caked blood on its body, some feathers plucked off, as if someone tore into the flesh, and its left wing was missing.

Whatever the cause of death was, it wasn't a glass window.

“Have you seen anyone come inside?” She asked Thing as the appendage climbed up her desk, and he waved his finger from side to side in response, making Wednesday sigh, “Since when are you a heavy sleeper?”

Maybe she was just thinking too much into things. Nevertheless, such a start of the day could be considered good, the ravenette thought, putting the dead bird on the desk to go start on her morning routine — it's been awhile since she had last felt the heaviness of a shovel in her arms.

She had some time before class, enough for a small morning funeral.

"Oh my God, what in the world..." Enid stood over her roommate's bed, horrified, her eyes wide open as she stared down at the dead body of a rabbit, laying in a pool of its own blood and intestines.

“This is so fucked up.” The blonde werewolf murmured, pressing her hand over her mouth with a choking sound.

Getting out of bed, Wednesday crouched next to the dead animal. Its neck was gnawed through, and the head was hanging by a thread with the spine barely enough to keep it attached to the carcass. She noticed a bite mark on its fluffy white back, an evident spot of where a strong set of teeth was once buried.

“It was definitely a wild animal,” the ravenette observed, tracing her fingers over the deep gashes on the soft flesh, “And a big one.”

“But how? How could such a huge thing get in here completely unnoticed? Do we really sleep that deep?” Enid gulped, feeling uneasy at the thought of a murderous creature roaming around the girls’ dorm unbeknownst to them. As if a hyde wasn’t enough.

“You most certainly do.” Wednesday mumbled in reply distractedly.

But not her. Indeed, how could this even be possible? On her best nights the ravenette slept like a corpse in a casket, but there was no way she wouldn’t feel a presence of an intruder in her own dorm room.

This was getting too unnerving. Even for Wednesday.

It’s not like she had anything against dead animals. But seeing those mauled carcasses in her own home every few weeks was disturbing – was it a kind of warning, perhaps? And if it was, then... who could the culprit be?

“Hey, little raven.”

Wednesday turned at the familiar voice, finding (Y/n) sliding into the seat next to her, a small grin on her toothy mouth. Dropping her bag next to the desk, the demon scooched closer to the ravenette, leaning over her face, but didn’t move any closer, making Wednesday smile – even after all those months of being together, the oni girl was still adorably respective of her boundaries. Wednesday met (Y/n) half – way, pressing her lips against the taller girl’s in a sweet smooch, and the demon felt her insides flutter.

"Hello, (Y/n). It's good to see you come to class in time for once."

The oni chuckled, resting her hand on the back of Wednesday's seat. She was obviously happy, but there were traces of exhaustion in the corners of her mouth, in the dark circles under her eyes – the season of Blood Moons was definitely trying for the girl.

"How was your hunt?"

"Mm, good," (Y/n) replied, stretching her arms over her head and sighing pleasantly when her back made a satisfying pop, "Don't really remember stuff except, like, running through the woods chasing a damn rabbit, but it was nice to finally warm my muscles up. This form has been too restricting lately."

“A rabbit?” Wednesday smirked, a teasing lilt in her voice, “Isn’t that too small of a dish for your appetite?”

“Ugh, yeah. Hunting instincts, I guess. It’s more about the chase rather than the prey itself. I’d honestly prefer to run another lap or two instead of maths.” The demon grumbled.

“I hope you do remember we’re having a test this week. In fact, you were the one begging me to tutor you. Is today after class convenient for you?”

“Fuck. It’s this week already?” (Y/n)’s face fell, “Sorry, tenshi. Blood Moon calling again.”

“Never mind. It’s your test to fail, after all," the ravenette deadpanned, “At least your ancestors are proud of you ruining your future for the sake of running around like some mindless beast and eating everything that moves.”

“They are proud. It’s in my blood,” the oni huffed, crossing her arms on her chest, top lip baring to reveal blunt tusks in annoyance, “Besides, spending time with you is what matters to me, not some dumb algebra test.”

Silence hung between the girls, and Wednesday watched (Y/n) glare at the desk in front of her resentfully, making her sigh.

“Stop pouting. You know I want what’s best for you.”

“I know. It’s just..,” the (h/c) – haired demon grunted, hanging her head to stare at her clawed palms, “The constant turnings are really taking their toll on me. I feel less and less human every time I come back,” her fists clenched mid – sentence, brows furrowing, “What if... what if I don’t turn back one day? I mean, it shouldn’t happen as long as I wear my pendant, but... I don’t want to be stuck a bloodthirsty brute for the rest of my life.”

A tired groan escaped (Y/n)’s throat, and she slumped her back over her seat.

“Fighting your nature is impossible.” She concluded exasperatedly.

“If it does happen, you and I will escape this wretched academy and go travel around the world,” Wednesday assured, moving to trace her slender digits over the veins on (Y/n)’s hand in a calming way, “I know a thing or two about surviving in the wild. Maybe we’ll even become a local legend somewhere, like Bonnie and Clyde.”

“A goth girl and an oni demon haunting the forests of Alaska, refugees united by their love for eating human hearts out,” (Y/n) grinned, “And their love for each other. I can see that.”

“Now it’s too cheesy. You ruined it.”

The oni girl cackled, making some of her fellow students turn at the loud obnoxious sound.

Wednesday laid in her bed, unmoving, ears strained to catch any small sound in the dead of night. For the past hour the only thing breaking the silence in the room were the snores of her peacefully sleeping werewolf roommate, but the ravenette wasn’t going to give up that easily. She knew that the best of hunters in the wilderness were able to wait out for hours until the perfect moment to strike presented itself, so she gathered up her patience, eyes flickering from her window to the clock on her night table. The glowing white digits read 2:18.

Too late to back away now.

As she stared at the ceiling, unblinking, she heard a noise. It was barely audible, but it was there – the sound of clawed limbs scratching at some stone surface, and it was coming from outside. Wednesday’s face snapped to the window, and, seeing nothing out of ordinary, she carefully sat up on the bed and stood to walk over to the balcony as silently as she could, wincing at the creaking of the floorboards.

Looking out through the discolored part of the glass, Wednesday watched a dark silhouette climb up her balcony. A clawed hand made its way up the granite of the railing, talons scrambling at the surface, then a human – looking body appeared, hoisting itself up by the hands with athletic lightness. The ravenette squinted, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and gasped quietly in surprise. In the silhouette of the creature she was supposed to be hunting she recognised (Y/n).

The demon squatted down on the stone railing, looking around cautiously, her eyes wide open and glowing in the dark — it seemed like she was still in her post — turning haze, mind not stable enough to think properly, and her behavior resembled that of a wild animal. She was wearing the usual black hakama pants and her (f/c) haori, the fabric covered in mud and dried blood, and in her tusked mouth the oni held a dead squirrel.

"(Y/n)?"

The demon girl turned her head at the sound of her name, and her slitted eyes glistened in recognition when she saw Wednesday step out on the balcony — but the oni instantly froze in her tracks, obviously caught red handed.

Well... this was certainly not the culprit the ravenette was expecting.

"(Y/n). Drop the squirrel." Wednesday ordered sternly.

The oni girl growled, the sound muffled by the red fluff in her mouth, before she unclenched her jaw reluctantly, letting the small animal fall to the floor. Wednesday moved closer to the stone railing cautiously, afraid to provoke the girl, then, as (Y/n) grunted, giving her approaching a green light, stood face-to-face with the bloodied maw of the demon.

"Why did you bring this here?"

(Y/n) seemed lost in thought for a second before she raised her hand to point a clawed finger at Wednesday's chest.

"You're small. Not a hunter," Wednesday felt her eyebrow twitch at (Y/n)'s completely unabashed comment, but chose to ignore it, and watched as the demon moved to grab the ravenette by the arm, pressing her own, much bigger palm against the other girl's, "See? No claws. No teeth. I hunt for you."

"You're... trying to provide for me by... bringing me game meat?"

The oni grinned, nodding proudly, then her toothy smile wavered, and she looked at Wednesday with the saddest eyes the ravenette had ever seen, "You don't like squirrels?"

The smaller girl sighed — apparently, all common sense was lost on the demon when she was like this, so (Y/n) forgetting that Wednesday was vegan didn't come as a surprise, let alone her neglecting the fact that a human wouldn't fancy a furry rodent for dinner. At least, Wednesday wasn't among those people.

"I like squirrels, (Y/n). Thank you," she reassured the upset demon, entwining her slender fingers with the oni’s, before tugging her off the railing, "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

(Y/n) grinned again, obviously pleased with herself, and followed the smaller girl inside the dorm.

“Sit here. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll get a washcloth to clean you up, then you can sleep.” Wednesday instructed, sitting (Y/n) down on the bed and pointing a finger at the demon to make sure she had made her point, and the taller girl nodded before Wednesday left to the bathrooms.

When she came back, holding a small water bowl and a washcloth, she was surprised to find (Y/n) where she left her, the girl not moving a single muscle since the smaller girl left. Leaving the cleaning items on her nightstand, Wednesday walked up to her closet, quickly finding a random oversized shirt that would be big enough for (Y/n)’s frame, and draped it over the headboard. Then she pushed her chair closer to the bed, and sat down in front of the demon, dipping her hand into the bowl and wetting the washcloth.

“Close your eyes.”

The demon obeyed, and Wednesday quickly got on cleaning the blood and dirt off her face and hair, and (Y/n)’s pointed ear twitched when the ravenette brushed over it gently.

“Tickles.”

The cloth slid over the demon’s collarbones, making (Y/n) open her lids, and she watched, unblinking and completely enamored, as Wednesday furrowed her brows in concentration. She didn’t speak after that again.

When Wednesday was finished, the water in the basin was of a rusty color, and (Y/n) could be considered clean enough – both of them were too tired for a proper bath. She’d just tell the demon to scrub herself extra hard tomorrow.

“Take your haori off and put this on.” The shorter girl gestured to the shirt, and stood up to put the water away.

(Y/n) tilted her head, looking over the black garment suspiciously, then proceeded to shrug her clothing off and put the shirt on, slipping her arms through the sleeves. Her claws caught at some stray threads, and the demon growled with annoyance. Wednesday watched the scene with a tired look before stepping closer to help the agitated girl.

“You’re a mess,” she scolded half – heartedly, untangling (Y/n)’s talons from the sleeves and fixing the shirt on her body, and the oni purred happily, “Now off to bed.”

The mattress dipped under the weight of the girls’ bodies, and Wednesday laid on her back, closing her eyes and wishing for sleep to take over as soon as possible. She felt the oni toss and turn beside her, before the demon rolled over to lay on her stomach and moved her hand to rest around Wednesday’s waist, pulling her smaller body closer. Satisfied with the position, the demon sighed in content and nuzzled Wednesday’s shoulder.

Oh, payback was going to be a bitch. But Wednesday will allow it. Just this once, she promised herself, she’ll suffer through this, as she pressed her cheek against the top of (Y/n)’s head.

“Good night, mia piccola cacciatrice.”

[allisluv]

Dad! Finnick headcanons, please! He'd be such a girl dad and a boy dad he'd be great with kids and OH MY GOSH HE WOULD BE SO GOOD WITH THEM AND TAKING CARE OF YOU AFTER YOU GIVE BIRTH SORRY IM GOING S BIT FERAL

Also can I be 🫐 anon?

im sorry this took me so long to get around to and of course you can be anon <3 cw: mentions of morning sickness. i done this as finnick being a girl!dad because that's how i see him tbh <3

finnick is so doting during your pregnancy. he holds back your hair when you're being sick and will go out in the middle of the night to get your food cravings. he will lift up your baby bump to relieve the pressure on your back.

when you finally go into labour, he's holding your hand, no matter how long you're there for. he will cry when the baby arrives and he is so gentle when you're in recovery.

finnick will learn how to braid your little girls hair and he'll thread little seashells through her french plaits.

he wipes her tears when she falls off her bike for the first time and he tells her that all she needs to do is get back up and try again. he’s cheering and grinning like a mad man when she gets the hang of it.

he is your daughters number one supporter. he will go to all her school plays and he tells her on a regular basis that she can do anything she puts her mind to.

finnick reads her a bed time story and tucks her in every night without fail. he could be on deaths door and he would still snuggle under the covers with her.

when she's feeling sick, finnick's parental instincts kick in and he insists on having her sleep in between the two of you at night just in case she gets worse <3

and when your little girl gets her first partner? the poor child fears for their life because finnick keeps on sprinkling in throwaway comments about how he knows where to hide a body 😭