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edenesth · 11 months ago

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The Way to His Heart [8]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 7 | Fic Masterlist | Part 9

"Sir, the dressmaker has arrived with the mistress' first batch of clothes. Should I send him directly to the House of Lotus?" Jongho asked tentatively from the entrance of his master's study.

Removing his hands from his head, Seonghwa looked up and shook his head miserably, "Lord, no. Send him to me first," The assistant bowed and went to do as he was told, "Right away, sir."

Hongjoong entered the study without bothering to knock, hands propped on his hip as he stared at your husband, unamused, "Would you mind explaining why I'm here instead of presenting the new clothes to your wife, Park Seonghwa?"

"I need advice, Hongjoong." The general croaked, feeling quite lost for once. He had rarely ever been in such a situation; who knew all it took was one woman to put him in such misery. Not even the most vicious enemies he had fought in war could have ever fazed him this much.

He returned from work the day before, enthusiastically sharing his plans for the grand wedding he wanted to give you. However, things went south when he dropped the bomb about the visit to your old home, foolishly believing you would express joy at the prospect of flaunting your newfound happiness to your wicked family. Instead, you were gripped with fear at the idea. You ended up retiring to your quarters early and refused to come out ever since.

Goddamnit, I'm the biggest moron ever.

The dressmaker raised an amused brow, having never seen Seonghwa like this before. He went over to sit down across from his friend, "Hmm, I didn't think you'd be having trouble in paradise this soon. Let's hear it; we'll see if there's anything I can do for you and that lovely wife of yours."

Taking a deep breath, your husband started from the beginning, recounting every single thing that happened from the start of your arranged marriage until the present.

"Wait, you're taking her back to that wretched place? No wonder she's upset, you idiot! You said it yourself; she suffered so badly being caged in there all her life. I mean, sure, your cause is very noble—wanting to make her family pay for what they've done with this plan of yours. But you'd been so focused on that, you forgot how traumatising it could be for her, huh? You really didn't think that one through, my friend."

Letting out a groan, the general pulled at his hair, "Yes, thank you for repeating it all to me like I didn't already know what I did wrong. Now, tell me what exactly it is that I can do to make it all better."

"You're welcome. Oh, I'll tell you what to do, all right. You best keep your dumbass seated here while I talk to her," instructed Hongjoong, watching expectantly as your husband frowned, "What? Why should you talk to her? It's my mess; I should be the one to clean it up."

Sighing, the dressmaker explained, "Look, we all know the only way for you to make things better is to not take her back to the damn house at all. But you do have a point, okay? You've come this far with your plan, and as much as it sucks, she must go there with you in order for this to work out. So, you stay put, and let me convince her to go willingly with you, got it?"

Seonghwa nodded reluctantly, realising his friend was right. As much as he hated how charming Hongjoong was and how persuasive he could be, he would have to rely on those skills to help you see things in the bigger picture. Sure, you were not privy to any details about the revenge, but hopefully, he will be able to make you at least want to stand up to your family for once.

"Lady Park, it's Hongjoong. I've brought your first batch of clothing. May I have permission to enter?" Blinking in surprise, you straightened up, not expecting to hear the dressmaker's voice, "O-okay, please come in."

Despite the anxious state you'd been in since the revelation your husband had dropped upon you the night before, you couldn't help but smile at the unusually colourful outfit of your visitor. Eunsook followed behind him with a group of servants filing in to deliver the precious cargo into your quarters.

The head maid felt relieved to see you smiling again, even if it was only a little. She had been concerned about you after witnessing your retreat into your old shell the previous night, as the fear you demonstrated reminded everyone of your initial arrival.

In an effort to distract you from your upsetting thoughts, the dressmaker quickly pulled out a few designs he thought you'd love, "Come, take a look at this! I made it the way you preferred and added a little touch of my magic. What do you think?"

Fortunately, his strategy worked like a charm, and you immediately moved over to him with sparkly eyes, marvelling at some of the most beautiful hanboks you'd ever seen, even prettier than the ones he had displayed in his shop.

As you admired the clothes in front of you, Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look with the elderly woman. Nodding, she quietly exited your room along with the rest of the servants, leaving you alone with your husband's old friend.

But you weren't entirely alone, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was right outside, listening intently. He didn't spare any of his servants a glance as they all passed by him with a deep bow, waving his hand carelessly in a gesture to ask them to leave quickly.

"Hey, you haven't answered me. Do you like them, Lady Park?" The dressmaker asked, a teasing smile on his face as he found your endearing shyness adorable.

You nodded quickly, "Yes, I do. I love them. They're all perfect. I just... don't know if I deserve to wear any of these." The general felt his heart clench at your response, realising you were still far from being able to love yourself.

With a scoff, Hongjoong moved to stand beside you, "I'll have you know I only make dresses for people I deem worthy of them. Not just anyone can wear my designs, you know. And you, by far, are probably my favourite client. So that says a lot."

Your husband silently agreed with those words, resisting the urge to rush in there and hold you tight, to tell you that you deserved only the best, that you deserved everything good in the world.

Lowering your head, you fiddled with your fingers before replying in a small voice, "You're only saying that because I'm the general's wife..."

Sighing lightly, the dressmaker turned to face you, "You're not wrong... but that's exactly because not just anyone can be Lady Park. Many women before you tried to be in your position. Regardless of their efforts, he never would have given them the time of day. Yet, he wholeheartedly accepted you."

Recognising the doubt in your eyes, he further explained, "I understand if you think these are just words. But that's probably because you don't know the general like I do. We've known each other since joining the military in our teens. Back then, the Seonghwa I knew would never bat an eyelash at any woman."

As you slowly looked up to meet his kind eyes, intrigued to learn more about your husband's past, he continued, "Those rumours about him being the cold-blooded general were not lies. He really was as merciless as they say. He still is, just not to you. When I saw him again for the first time after years that day, I couldn't believe the man in front of me was the same friend I once knew. He's different around you; he's different because of you."

"It's evident that you're special to him, that you mean something to him. He cares so much about you; do you realise that?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you hurriedly blinked them back. The thought of someone genuinely caring for you still seemed surreal despite the amount of care that had been shown to you since living here. However, you were starting to understand that he was right.

Hongjoong grinned, seeing the effectiveness of his words, "You're the first and only woman who can tame Park Seonghwa, so you are beyond worthy of my dresses."

Before you could even attempt to protest, he held up a hand, "And don't bother telling me I'm wrong because I'm never wrong."

You couldn't help but giggle at his sassy words, and he smiled sincerely at you, saying, "So don't you dare question whether you deserve these clothes. You're the only one who deserves them because these are made only for you, do you understand?"

This time, you nodded with a wide smile.

"I want you to wear my dresses proudly and show the world who you are: the great Lady Park, the only woman General Park wants as his wife. No one will dare disrespect or look down on you again."

Feeling as if he knew exactly what had been worrying you, you felt touched. He was right; you were not who you used to be. You had no reason to cower from your family, recalling their belittling assumptions about your survival in this marriage. Now was your chance to prove them wrong.

With newfound determination, you nodded firmly, "You're right, I will. Thank you, Hongjoong. You're a good friend; Seonghwa is lucky to have you."

He crossed his arms over his chest cheekily, "I sure am. That fool hasn't a clue how fortunate he is."

Mission accomplished.

Pumping his fists in victory, your husband silently cheered outside, brushing off the playful taunts from his friend. Just this once, he would forgive Kim Hongjoong.

"Are you ready, my dear?"

The general turned to you as your carriage came to a stop, marking your arrival at what you assumed to be the Jang estate, your former prison. With a resolute nod, you smiled up at him, "I am."

As you moved to exit the vehicle, your husband halted you. Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed reassuringly into your eyes, "Remember, whatever happens, I'm here with you. You're not alone from now on; I'll always be here to protect you."

"I know, Seonghwa. I believe in you."

His heart melted at those words, and he couldn't resist pressing a lingering kiss onto your forehead. You fluttered your eyes closed, holding onto his wrists, cherishing the warmth he was providing.

"Alright, let's go." Leaving one final peck on your cheek, he got out of the carriage and swiftly helped you down, his strong arm securely wrapped around your waist. Eunsook stood there, mouth agape, that was initially meant to be her responsibility but she realised her assistance was no longer needed at the moment.

Jongho grinned, nudging the elderly woman on the shoulder as they followed their master and mistress into the minister's estate, "Come on, we've got work to do."

Taking a deep breath, you surveyed the familiar surroundings that once made you feel small. Feeling a reassuring squeeze on your hand, you found comfort in your husband's presence.

Yes, he's here with you now.

Nothing bad will happen.

His grip on your hand tightened, and his warm smile, reserved only for you, vanished when a few of your father's servants nervously stumbled out, bowing deeply before both of you, "Good morning, General Park. Welcome to the Jang estate."

The brave front you had put on seemed to falter slightly as you realised the servants here remained the same, showing no acknowledgement despite you no longer being their prisoner. Seonghwa, glaring at the maids in front of him, growled in a low voice, "You've left out Lady Park. Will you not greet my wife?"

Gulping on behalf of the servants, you witnessed the return of the general's intimidating demeanour. Hongjoong was right; he was still terrifying, just not to you.

The maids bowed deeper, "B-but sir—"

"What is going on here?" That voice resonated across the courtyard, causing your heart to plummet to the lowest pit of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't ready to face them at all. Your father emerged from the main hall, wearing an expression that was far from pleased.

You pressed closer to your husband, and instinctively, he wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close. The minister's eyebrow raised in surprise at your refined appearance; he nearly did not recognise you. You were even more stunning than on the day you left this place, seemingly given a complete makeover.

Aside from that, he realised the general had meant his words when he had spoken so highly of you during assembly. Witnessing the intimacy between the two of you, there was undeniable evidence of shared affection. Your father began to question whether marrying you to his enemy was a mistake in the first place.

Seonghwa smirked, "Ahh, Minister Jang, it seems your servants do not know proper manners. They did not greet my wife, and that, to me, is punishable."

The old man felt his eye twitch at the general's satisfied grin before responding, "Well, I'm their master, so I decide what is punishable, General Park."

"Right, well, I'm just looking out for you. Wouldn't want people to find out what rotten-mannered staff my father-in-law has in his estate, not knowing how to show respect to even the general's wife."

"You do realise that before she became your wife, she's my daughter first." Your father sneered, and you felt sick at that, to be called his daughter when you've never once been treated as such.

Remaining unfazed, your husband retorted, "All the more reasons for them to show respect to their eldest miss then, no?"

Jongho and Eunsook bowed their heads in an effort to hide their snickers at the minister's red face flushing in embarrassment. He should have known better than to think he could win the general in an argument, "R-right. What are you fools standing around for? Show Lady Park some bloody respect!"

The line of servants bowed all the way down pathetically, "Yes, master! Good morning, General Park and Lady Park! Welcome to the Jang estate!" They chanted loudly, enough to bring about the rest of your family, coming out to witness what all the fuss was about.

"Very well, let us head in then." With a bored expression, Seonghwa walked into the hall with you, moving right past your stepmother and stepsisters intentionally, paying them no mind as he helped you into a seat before settling down beside you.

All four of the women standing in the main hall were rooted to their spots, eyes bulging as they took in the sight of you and your husband. First of all, you were nearly unrecognisable. If they thought you looked pretty on the day you got married, you were now almost a hundred times more beautiful, though they would rather die than ever admit it out loud.

Beyond your enhanced appearance, they were more taken aback by the general's beauty. He was nothing like they had imagined; he must have been one of the most attractive men ever, or at least the most handsome one they had seen so far.

Suddenly, your stepsisters were even angrier than they were upon learning about your stupid grand wedding. They were now furious with their father for never having told them about how good-looking General Park truly was. If only they knew, they would have volunteered to marry him themselves.

But what if there was still hope for them?

What if they had a chance?

After all, you hadn't officially wed Seonghwa yet and were merely here to discuss plans for the upcoming ceremony. Perhaps, with enough effort, they could still win him over. If a peasant like you could seduce the general, why couldn't any of them? With this determination in mind, the three stepsisters promptly began adjusting their appearances as you all gathered around the main hall.

You didn't appreciate the way your stepsisters were eyeing your husband, although you understood their motives. Sensing your discomfort, Seonghwa moved closer to you in his seat, whispering in your ear, "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"

Nodding lightly, you looked up with a small smile, "I am, as long as you're with me," He couldn't resist smiling at your words as he gave you a gentle peck on the head, "Good."

That should be me!

The three stepsisters clenched their fists, their fury intensifying as they witnessed the handsome general being affectionate with you. It should have been them; the title of the general's wife was more befitting a noblewoman like them, not a rat like you. How dare you sit there in their place as if you deserved it?

In an attempt to break the silence, Jinah cleared her throat and made her move, "Have you been well, unnie? I missed you so much! Did you know how worried I was about you? You must have had such a hard time, especially after you adamantly refused to marry General Park."

Seonghwa raised a brow in amusement, while you remained quiet, unsure how to respond to such a blatant lie. Jinjoo scoffed at your lack of response, "Unnie! Will you really not answer Jinah at all? You've always been like that, so ungrateful when we care so much about you!"

"Really? My wife being ungrateful? That's wild. I cannot imagine her like that at all." Your husband chuckled, holding you close when he felt you begin to tremble.

Jinhee's fists shook with envy as she nodded pitifully, "Yes, that's because you haven't known her well enough, my lord. She can be so scary when she's mad, you know how the eldest usually are."

Minister Jang rubbed a tired hand over his head when he realised what his stepdaughters were trying to do. Of course, these foolish girls would easily be blinded by the general's appearance. Even his own wife, seated beside him, found it difficult to take her eyes off the gorgeous young man.

Jongho and Eunsook, positioned behind you and their master, were making every effort to contain the irritation they felt. The audacity of these women to feign innocence after what they've put you through all these years. They were once again thankful not to have any of these conniving foxes as their mistress.

Rubbing his thumbs over your hands, Seonghwa laughed sarcastically in disbelief, "I'm sorry, I just find that so hard to believe. Are you sure you're not all talking about yourselves?" In an instant, his smile dropped, and he sent your stepsisters a death stare as if daring them to continue spouting more ridiculous lies about you.

Left in stunned silence, they blinked nervously and avoided his eyes, unprepared for his questioning. It was clear that they hadn't planned their silly little act thoroughly.

Damn it, how did that worthless thing manage to gain his favour?

"That's enough." The minister declared firmly, not wanting his stepdaughters to continue embarrassing themselves. All he wanted was to get the general out of his house as soon as possible. Every moment that Seonghwa remained felt like a threat; your father was walking on eggshells around him.

Pushing himself off his seat, the old man addressed your husband, "You mentioned wanting to see the environment your wife grew up in, right? Let's proceed with that before we delve into discussions about your wedding arrangements. I don't have all day."

"Sure, can't wait." Seonghwa responded smugly, standing up with your hand securely in his. A sense of unease washed over you as you wondered what kind of deception your father would employ. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal your actual room to the general. Dread filled you, and you longed to return home.

Your real home, not this nightmare.

« Preview of Part 9 »

As you all followed the minister around the estate while he showed the general what was supposed to be your old room, Jongho exchanged a glance with the private investigator who was still posing as a staff member in the estate.

"This is unnie's room; she has the biggest and nicest one out of all of us. She's so lucky and doesn't even know it. I'm the youngest and I have the smallest room; I'd honestly be happy to have anything at all." Jinjoo said innocently, playing with a strand of hair as she batted her eyelashes at Seonghwa.

You stared blankly at the room supposedly designated as yours. It was merely a guest room rearranged with some of your stepsisters' belongings to create the illusion of long-term habitation. Sensing Jinah and Jinhee's intense gazes on you, you turned to find them glaring daggers at you as if daring you to speak up and disclose the truth to your husband.

If you voiced your denial, who would believe you? It was your entire family against you alone. Would there even be a point in trying?

Just as doubt started to creep in, Seonghwa wrapped an arm around you, reminding you of his support, "Is that true, my dear? Is this your room? It doesn't really seem to be your style at all."

Everyone held their breath, awaiting your response, but you remained silent, fixing your gaze on the familiar space where you spent your entire life, now masquerading as a storeroom.

"What is it that you're staring at so intently, hm? Let's go take a look."

Oh, crap.

Shit will go down in the next part, I assure you. Patience, my dearest readers, patience HAHA this part was focused more on setting the stage for the main event.😈

Also, I've created a mood board for this fic. If you haven't already checked it out, go take a look! I might consider making another one that depicts Seonghwa's estate if I'm able to find the right images.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/3): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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siren-in-the-shadow · 2 months ago

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Kink/NSFW Alphabet: Astarion X Reader

Word Count: 4.2k Mentions: SMUT, HORNYYYYY, She/Her

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A - Aftercare:

After the thrill of an intense encounter, Astarion would savor the moments of gentle touch and tender care with you. He might surprise you with his softness, relishing the closeness that comes after. It’s a rare chance for him to show a quieter side, reminding both of you that there’s more to intimacy than just the heat of the moment.

“You have no idea how much I need this—no games, no pretense. Just… you.” His voice would drop to a whisper, his words carrying a weight that hints at something deeper.

“Water, a warm bed, and you. I may have been dead for centuries, but I think I could learn to appreciate the little things again.” He’d give you a lazy smile, clearly enjoying this rare moment of calm.

B- Biting:

Astarion would take his time, making sure each bite is memorable, blending pleasure with just a hint of danger. As his lips graze your neck, Astarion pauses, breathing in deeply “You have no idea how intoxicating you smell,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of hunger and desire. He lets his fangs hover just above your skin, savoring the anticipation before finally pressing them in, just enough to send a slight moan and shiver down your spine. He pulls back, smirking as he studies your reaction. “Did that hurt, or should I go a bit deeper?” His tone is teasing, but his eyes flash with something primal, as if holding himself back is as thrilling for him as the bite itself.

C - Control:

Astarion thrives on control; it’s where he feels most alive. He revels in guiding each encounter, deciding when to be gentle and when to be intense. Every touch, every whispered command, is carefully calculated to keep you exactly where he wants you.

For Astarion, it’s a dance where he leads, and you willingly follow, caught in the thrill of his commanding presence.

As he moves closer, he whispers, “Every sound you make belongs to me. If you’re quiet, I might reward you. But if you disobey… well, let’s just say I have my ways of reminding you who’s in control.” The promise of pleasure mixed with a hint of danger lingers in the air.

D - Dominance: (DADDY preference)

Astarion revels in his role as the dominant partner, thriving on the control he wields over every encounter. His commanding presence transforms each moment into a thrilling game of power and submission. He takes pleasure in guiding you, ensuring you know that he’s the one in charge, and relishes in teasing you until you’re desperate for his touch.

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, Astarion smirks, relishing the power he holds. “You love this, don’t you? Being completely at my mercy,” he taunts, his fingers trailing down your body, teasing just above where you need him most.

When you gasp out, “Yes, daddy,” a wicked grin spreads across his face, his eyes darkening with desire. “Ah, there it is,” he purrs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “It’s so much more thrilling when you know who’s in charge.” He presses his body against yours, making sure you feel every inch of him. “Now, beg for it,” he commands, his tone both teasing and serious, his grip tightening as he watches the need flood your expression. “Tell me how badly you want this, and I just might give you what you crave.”

(I’m blushing writing, editing and re-reading this LOL)

E - Edge Play:

Astarion thrives on the thrill of pushing boundaries and exploring the fine line between pleasure and pain. He enjoys taking you to the brink, teasing you mercilessly and keeping you on the edge of ecstasy, never quite allowing you to fall over into release until he decides it’s time. For him, the tension and anticipation only heighten the experience, turning every moment into a delicious game of control.

With a wicked grin, he holds you firmly in place, whispering, “I want you to feel every pulse of desire building inside you. I’ll keep you right on the edge until you can’t take it anymore.”

He trails his fingers along your body, stopping just shy of where you need him most. “You’re going to beg for it, darling. And I won’t give you a thing until I’m satisfied.” His eyes glint with mischief as he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Can you handle that, my love? “

F - Fetishes:

Blood Play: Given Astarion’s vampiric nature, he may have a slight fascination with blood play—enjoying the thrill of drawing blood during intimate moments. This could be both a literal aspect of his vampirism and a metaphor for the deeper connection he craves. The intensity and danger of this fetish would excite him, heightening the sense of power and submission.

Astarion leans in, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. “Tell me, love, what are your secret desires? What fetishes do you long to explore?” His voice is sultry, drawing you in as he holds your gaze.

As you shyly confess a fantasy, he raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, that sounds positively delightful. I can already envision how much fun we could have.” He steps closer, his breath hot against your skin. “I’ll make sure you experience it in the most exquisite way possible.”

G - Gag Play:

Astarion finds a particular thrill in gag play, savoring the way it amplifies control and adds an element of vulnerability. He enjoys the sight and sound of you silenced, heightening every sensation as he takes charge, knowing that your trust is his to hold. The added restraint brings a deeper intensity to your connection, amplifying every gesture and touch.

Astarion slips a gag into place, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he fastens it carefully. “There we go darling,” he murmurs, taking a step back to admire his work. “Now you can’t even protest, not that you’d want to. All you can do is give in to me.” He brushes a thumb over your cheek, reveling in the muffled sounds you make as he teases and torments you, savoring every muffled whimper. “I like you like this—helpless and unable to speak,” he says, a smirk dancing on his lips. “Now, let’s see how much you can handle without a single word.” He leans in close, whispering in your ear, “You don’t need to talk, my love. Just follow my lead, and I’ll make sure every moment leaves you breathless.” His touch becomes more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he revels in the thrill of seeing you restrained, bound to his control. “You look absolutely divine on your knees, my sweet. Such a good little girl, knowing exactly how to beg for my pleasure."

H - Handcuffs:

Astarion revels in the exhilarating thrill of using handcuffs during your intimate times. For him, the sensation of you bound and completely dependent on him heightens both the tension and excitement, allowing him to take full control of your pleasure.

“You’re going to learn to love being tied up, my sweet. Trust me, it’s an exquisite way to surrender” He tightens the cuffs. Your breath quickens, doesn’t it? It’s the thrill of surrendering to me that makes your heart race,” Astarion murmurs, his voice a velvety whisper as he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Every gasp, every shiver—it only tells me how much you crave this.”

I - Impregnation Fantasy: ( aka Breeding Kink hehe )

Astarion is intrigued by the allure of impregnation fantasies, where the thrill of possibility intertwines with desire. This fantasy taps into deep-seated emotions and primal instincts, igniting a heady mix of vulnerability, power, and intimacy. For him, it’s not just about the physical act but also the deeper connections and the fantasies of creating something new together.

As he continues, his fingers trace your skin with tantalizing slowness. “Picture it: the two of us lost in ecstasy, the heat building until you can’t help but want me completely. The idea of me filling you with my seed, making you mine in the most primal way possible, drives me wild. I want to hear you beg for it, to want it so badly that you can’t think of anything else.” He leans back, gazing into your eyes, a playful smile teasing his lips. “The thought of it sends shivers down my spine. The idea of you carrying a part of me… it’s almost intoxicating, don’t you think?”

J - Jerking off :

Astarion was not one to indulge in self-pleasure; he much preferred the intimacy of slow, passionate lovemaking with Y/N, where every caress and lingering kiss deepened their connection. But as the day stretched into evening while they traveled apart, the ache of longing began to consume him. The memories of her soft skin against his, her breath hitching in delight, haunted him, making it impossible to resist the temptation. In the quiet solitude of his chamber, he found himself surrendering to desire, the thrill of imagining her beside him igniting a fire he rarely felt alone. With each stroke, he conjured the image of her, knowing that this fleeting moment would only heighten their next encounter.

In the dimly lit room, Astarion found himself alone, the flickering candlelight casting playful shadows across the walls. He leaned back against the plush cushions of the chaise lounge, his thoughts drifting to the memory of her—every tantalizing moment they had shared. A wicked smile spread across his lips as he closed his eyes, allowing the visions to consume him.

With a low, seductive chuckle, he began to stroke himself slowly, his hand moving up and down the length of his shaft with a deliberate slowness that made his breath hitch. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, imagining her soft gasps and the way her body would arch under his touch.

Each stroke felt electric, sending shivers down his spine as he pictured her beneath him, her eyes glazed with desire, begging for more. “If only you were here, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing. “I could make you feel so good…”

K - Kitten Play:

Astarion couldn’t help but chuckle when Y/N jokingly meowed at him one evening, the sound playful and unexpectedly adorable. The moment sparked something in him, a mischievous idea that began to blossom in his mind. Every so often he affectionately dubbed her as “Kitten,” each instance bringing a playful glint to his eyes.

“Well, at least your meow is for me,” he teased one afternoon, watching her with a smirk as she curled up on the couch, a playful pout on her lips. “Who knew I had a little feline in my life?” He leaned in closer, whispering conspiratorially, “Do you want a treat, my dear Kitten?”

Whenever they found themselves in playful moments, he’d tease her further, urging her to embrace the persona. “Come on, show me your best meow,” he’d say, grinning wickedly, knowing full well how her cheeks would flush at the request.

L - Lingerie Play:

Astarion had developed a penchant for selecting the most exquisite lingerie for Y/N. Each time they ventured into a market or passed a boutique, he couldn’t resist the urge to slip inside, his eyes gleaming with delight as he envisioned her wearing the delicate fabrics. It had become a delightful game between them—his seductive eye for detail paired with her playful acceptance.

“I simply cannot resist,” he would declare, holding up a lacy piece in an enticing shade of crimson. “This one screams your name, my darling.” He’d watch her face light up with a mix of surprise and excitement, the playful banter between them igniting their chemistry even further.

M - Masochism:

Astarion thrived on the exquisite and indulgent, finding true exhilaration in moments of masochism where pleasure intertwined with pain. He loved the thrill of pushing boundaries (consensually), each sting drawing him deeper into ecstasy. In these intimate encounters, he took the lead, guiding Y/N through the delicate dance of sensations that heightened their connection.

Leaning in, she gave his ear a soft, teasing nibble, a cute gesture that surprised him. Astarion's eyes widened, a mix of shock and delight flashing across his face. The unexpected sensation sent a shiver of pleasure through him, and a genuine smile broke free as he savored the delightful twist.

(Sorry I love his fawkkkinggg stupid big sexy pointy elf ears I wanna bite himmmmm nom nom nom)

N - Nipple Play:

Astarion had a particular weakness for breasts, finding them utterly captivating. He adored exploring Y/N's curves, especially when it came to nipple play.

“You know,” he teased, leaning in with a sly grin, “I’m quite skilled at this.” With that, he brought his mouth to her nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak before sucking gently. “Mmm, you taste divine,” he murmured, the heat of his breath sending shivers through her.

As he lavished attention on her, Astarion delighted in her soft gasps and eager reactions. “Tell me how good it feels, love,” he encouraged, reveling in the way her body arched towards him, craving more of his touch. Each flick of his tongue ignited her desire, deepening their intimate connection with every teasing kiss.

O - Orgasms:

To Astarion, an orgasm is the ultimate expression of surrender and pleasure, where all boundaries fade away, leaving only raw ecstasy. It’s not just a release but a profound connection with Y/N, a thrilling culmination of desire. Watching her unravel in bliss is his greatest reward, a testament to their intimacy that fuels his craving for more.

Astarion knew the delicate balance between pleasure and anticipation. “Hold on to that feeling,” he instructed, teasing her as he skillfully coaxed her towards the edge, then pulling back just enough to prolong the delicious torment. He loved the way her eyes would darken with need, the way her body arched toward him, craving release.

When he finally allowed her to plunge into ecstasy, it was as if time itself stood still. The shuddering wave of pleasure that consumed her sent him spiraling alongside her, both of them lost in the blissful aftermath. “You’re breathtaking, my love,” he breathed, brushing his thumb along her jawline, marveling at the glow of satisfaction that enveloped her. “Together, we create magic.”

P - Positions:

Astarion had an exquisite taste for intimacy, and when it came to sexual positions, he preferred those that allowed him to fully appreciate the beauty of his partner. He thrived on the thrill of connection and the power dynamics at play, always eager to explore new ways to bring Y/N pleasure.

One of his favorites was the classic missionary, where he could gaze into Y/N’s eyes, savoring the depth of their connection as he thrust deeply inside her. “I could get lost in your gaze forever,” he would whisper, the intimacy igniting his desire even more.

Q - Quickies:

Astarion wasn’t one for quickies. He found the rush of hurried encounters to be lacking, a mere shadow of the true pleasure that could be achieved through leisurely exploration. “Why rush when we can savor every moment?” he would often muse, a playful smirk gracing his lips. “I’d much rather take my time,” he would say with a teasing grin, “because when I finally have you, I want you to remember every exquisite detail.” Quickies, in his view, were a distraction from the true delight of losing themselves in each other, a fleeting encounter he was happy to forgo for something far more tantalizing.

R - Roleplay:

Given his charismatic and theatrical personality, he’d relish the opportunity to step into different characters and scenarios. Roleplay allows for a creative exploration of fantasies and power dynamics, which would appeal to his penchant for control and seduction.

Astarion lounged on the edge of a lavishly decorated chaise, the dim candlelight casting soft shadows on his flawless features. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced at Y/N, a sly smile playing on his lips. “My dear,” he drawled, his voice dripping with allure, “would you care to indulge in a little fantasy tonight?” He leaned forward, the flicker of excitement in his gaze igniting a sense of adventure in the air. Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“Let’s play a game,” he suggested, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You shall be a princess trapped in a dark castle, and I”—he paused dramatically—“am the charming vampire who has taken you captive.” He stood, his posture exuding confidence, and took a slow step towards her. “You’ll find that I’m not the monster you might think I am.”

(he always wants to be the "bad monster" who takes you)

S - Spanking:

Astarion had a particular fondness for spanking, finding the mix of pleasure and pain to be utterly intoxicating. The sharp slap against skin sent delightful tingles coursing through his body, igniting a primal thrill that left him craving more. He loved the sound it made—an echo of intimacy that filled the air, reminding both him and Y/N of the delicious dynamic they shared. Music to his ears.

He loved the way Y/N would gasp, her body responding eagerly to each strike, the combination of pain and pleasure heightening her arousal. “Just a little more, darling,” he’d murmur, his breath warm against her ear. “You can take it, do it for me.”

T - Temperature Play:

Astarion delighted in the sensual thrill of temperature play, especially when it came to using candle wax to heighten sensation and anticipation. He adored the intimate dance of warmth and coolness, the way it transformed the atmosphere into one charged with electricity.

“Shall we try something a bit daring tonight?” he would ask with a devilish grin, holding up a beautifully crafted candle, its wax glistening in the candlelight. Y/N's curiosity piqued, she nodded, excitement bubbling within.

As he lit the candle, the flickering flame cast playful shadows across the room. “Just relax,” he instructed, his voice smooth and soothing. “I promise you’ll find this exhilarating.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Y/N's skin as he tilted the candle. “Now, let’s see how you react to a little heat,” he teased, letting a few drops of warm wax fall onto their body. The sensation was both surprising and thrilling, a rush of warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool air surrounding them.

U - Undressing:

Astarion had a profound appreciation for the art of undressing. To him, it was more than just the physical act; it was a tantalizing ritual filled with anticipation and desire. He relished the way his gaze lingered on Y/N, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour, as if he could undress them with just a look.

“You know how much I adore seeing you in that,” he would say, admiring the outfit he had chosen for her. Each piece was selected with meticulous care, designed to accentuate her beauty while igniting his own desires. “But let’s not keep it on for too long, shall we?”

(He takes your panties off with his teefs)

V - Voyerism:

Astarion lurked in the shadows, a predator hidden in the night. He watched you as you gathered wildflowers, your carefree movements striking against the encroaching darkness. There was something almost intoxicating about your innocence, a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them.

As you knelt to collect kindling, the fabric of your clothes clung to you, a tempting reminder of your fragility. He felt a thrill shoot through him, a dark hunger ignited by the sight of you so blissfully unaware of the eyes upon you. It was an intoxicating game, one that filled him with a twisted pleasure—watching you in your mundane tasks, a stark reminder of everything he’d lost.

He relished the intimacy of the moment, the thrill of being just out of sight. Each smile you offered, each soft laugh that escaped your lips, felt like a secret meant only for him. It was exhilarating, knowing he could take everything from you in an instant, yet choosing to simply observe instead.

When you turned and caught his gaze, he smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Just admiring your handiwork,” he said, his voice low and playful. But inside, the darkness coiled tighter, a reminder of the monster he was, lurking just beneath the surface, reveling in the shadows.

W - Worship:

Astarion stood before you, the flickering candlelight illuminating his sharp features and casting an alluring glow over his pale skin. There was an intensity in his crimson gaze, a hunger that ran deeper than mere desire. In this moment, he was not just a vampire lord; he was your devoted worshiper, ready to offer everything he had.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice smooth and sultry. “Absolutely divine.” He stepped closer, his presence enveloping you, a magnetic force drawing you in. He knelt at your feet, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor, and pressed a soft kiss to the ground before you, a gesture of reverence that sent a thrill through your body.

With every movement, he exuded a dark, intoxicating energy, making it clear that he was fully at your service. “You deserve to be worshiped,” he continued, his voice low, laced with sincerity. “To have every part of you adored and cherished.”

He trailed his lips along your ankles, his kisses both delicate and possessive, as if he wanted to imprint his devotion upon your skin. “You are the light in my darkness,” he whispered, his breath warm against you. “I crave to honor you, to revel in your beauty.”

Astarion looked up, his gaze locked on yours, filled with a mix of admiration and something darker. “Let me show you how deeply I worship you,” he said, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. “Every caress, every kiss will be a testament to my devotion.”

With that, he took your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your palm. The intimacy of the moment felt electric, a silent promise of the pleasures to come. He savored the taste of your skin, each kiss a declaration of his worship.

“Your power over me is intoxicating,” he continued, his voice low and reverent. “I want to drown in your presence, to feel every inch of you beneath my lips.”

(Makes love to you but can also fuck you like a toy)

X - Ray : He’s gotta be at LEAST 6 inches and veiny/girthy (idk im delusional, I love him no matter what)

Y - Yearning: In which they haven’t developed a relationship… Yet

Astarion watched you interact with the other companions, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest. Deep down, he longed for something genuine—a connection that felt real. Your laughter stirred feelings he had long buried, and the warmth of your presence ignited a hope he thought was lost.

He craved the chance to share not just his darkness, but also the flicker of humanity still within him. The idea of being seen by you, truly seen, both thrilled and terrified him.

He wanted to be desired not just as a vampire lord, but as a man worthy of your love. In those fleeting moments, Astarion realized that what he wanted most was the possibility of a future with you, one filled with authenticity and connection.

Z - Zero Tolerance: What I imagine some of his boundaries are that he’s set.

Clear Safe Words: He emphasizes the importance of establishing safe words or signals that can be used to pause or stop play instantly, reinforcing the idea that boundaries are always respected.

Betrayal: Betrayal has haunted Astarion for ages, making him hyper-aware of trust issues. Any hint of dishonesty or broken promises can trigger a visceral reaction, prompting him to reinforce the need for transparency and accountability in their relationship.

No Use of Sharp Objects: Astarion could establish that no knives or sharp implements are allowed in play, emphasizing safety and avoiding triggers related to past traumas.

No Slapping in the Face: Astarion may specify that any form of impact play on the face is off-limits, as it feels too personal and vulnerable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors Note:

Hey, if you've made it this far thank you!

I know it was superrrrr long, I hope it was satisfying. I haven't seen anyone do a NSFW alphabet in a while so I gave it my own twist.

Just a reminder that this is fun for me and this is how I view him so please don't be upset if it doesn't align with you <3

Also you guys this song "Rule 34" is amazing, fits Star perfectly in my humble opinion....

If you enjoyed, please give it a like/reblog :)

Cheers X

-Siren

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #one shot #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #baldur's gate #Spotify

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domm1etae · 3 months ago

Text

Birthday gift

y/n x yeosang

oneshot | mdni

2.7k

Yeosang gives his lover the perfect birthday gift

nsfw tags under

f/m, top yeosang, moaning, teasing, praising, oral sex , vaginal sex, kissing, make out, i love you, etc.

"Yeosang," his name escaped your lips in a breathless, needy whine that only fueled the devilish grin spreading across his face. His eyes glinted with mischief as they roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on your breasts before they met your own gaze, a fire burning in their depths.

“You really want it, don’t you?” His voice was rough, low, like a dark promise waiting to unfold. Your eyes were drawn to his broad chest, muscles flexing as his hand trailed down, gripping his hardened length through his tight dress pants. You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of his strong hand wrapping around himself, giving an effortless squeeze.

He cocked his head, dark strands of hair falling over his eyes as he raised a brow. “Want it, baby?” His voice was a teasing drawl, the corner of his lips twitching up in satisfaction at how you chewed on your bottom lip, desperately trying to contain the moan threatening to spill.

Yeosang knew exactly the effect he had on you. It was a power he wielded effortlessly, and tonight, he was enjoying watching you squirm beneath the weight of your desire. The way your teeth tugged on your lip, the way your thighs pressed together, aching for him.

He wasn’t surprised that your night had taken such a wicked turn. In fact, he had been planning for this ever since he caught you snooping through your shared bedroom, trying to find the birthday present he’d hidden from you. You were too impatient, too eager, and now, he had taken your gift and slipped it into the pocket of his pants, taunting you. What followed was a playful chase around the house, laughter filling the air as Yeosang dodged your every attempt to catch him.

Until, that is, he let himself be cornered — right back where you started, in your bedroom. His back was against the wall, but his lips were curved into a knowing smirk. He was letting you think you had won.

Breathing hard, you had charged at him, but as soon as you reached out for the gift, you’d accidentally grabbed something else — his cock, thick and ready beneath his pants. A dangerous chuckle escaped his lips, his hand immediately covering yours.

“Oh, baby, I don’t think that’s the present you were after,” he teased, his voice a husky murmur against your ear, making your knees go weak.

Now, you stood there, panting, arousal coursing through your veins as Yeosang backed you against the bed. His tall frame towered over yours, his smoldering gaze holding you captive.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower, eyes trailing down your body. “You’re already desperate for me, and I haven’t even unzipped my pants yet.” His gaze flicked back up to yours, sharp and heated. “Is my birthday girl really that eager?”

You nodded, the words catching in your throat. But that wasn’t good enough for him. His lips curved into a devilish frown, his voice coming out as a soft, playful reprimand.

“Ah, ah. Use your words, princess. I want to hear you say it.”

A shiver ran down your spine as your breath hitched, knowing what he wanted. “Yes, Yeosang… I want it,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling with need. His answering smile was dangerous, like a predator who had his prey exactly where he wanted it.

“Good girl.”

Slowly, deliberately, he unbuttoned his pants, your eyes locked onto the sight, anticipation building as his hands moved expertly. Every inch of fabric that fell away revealed more of the taut muscle of his thighs, his bare skin almost glistening under the dim light of your room. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, your body already aching to feel him against you.

When his pants hit the floor, he wasted no time. His boxers were pushed down swiftly, revealing his thick, throbbing cock, the tip already glistening with precum. Yeosang’s eyes never left yours as he wrapped a hand around himself, slowly stroking, teasing.

“Look at you,” he drawled, his voice dripping with lust. “You’re practically drooling for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He was right. You were barely holding it together. But you wanted to feel him, touch him, taste him. With a burst of boldness, you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head and letting it drop to the floor. You stood there, completely bare, your nipples hard, your skin flushed with heat.

Yeosang’s eyes darkened as he took you in, his gaze hungry, devouring every inch of your exposed body. His lips parted slightly, and a groan escaped him as his hand stroked himself harder.

“Come here,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. You obeyed, moving to the bed and climbing on top of him. His cock twitched in your hand as you took over, replacing his grip with your own, your fingers gliding over his slick length. His lips crushed against yours, hot and demanding, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

Switching hands, you slid your fingers between your legs, gathering the slickness of your arousal, and rubbed it along the length of his shaft. Yeosang’s head fell back into the pillows, a guttural moan spilling from his throat at the contact.

“Fuck, baby…” he rasped, his voice strained, his thighs tensing beneath you. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”

But you didn’t stop. His pleasure fueled your own, and you stroked him with renewed focus, watching as his breathing quickened, his muscles tensing beneath your touch.

“Let me,” you whispered softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock before swirling your tongue around it. He groaned, his hands fisting in the sheets as you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him deeper.

His hips bucked up slightly as your mouth moved up and down, his cock throbbing against your tongue. “Fuck, baby, I need you. I need to taste you,” he begged between gasps, his hand resting on your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

With one last long lick, you released him, smirking at the wrecked expression on his face. “Okay,” you teased, crawling up his body. “But don’t lose control just yet.”

You positioned yourself above him, his strong hands guiding your hips until your slick folds hovered right above his mouth. The second his tongue flicked out to taste you, a sharp gasp left your lips, and you had to steady yourself on the headboard, fighting the urge to grind down against his face.

"Yeosang!" His name fell from your lips in a high-pitched moan, and you rocked against his mouth, his tongue teasing your clit in slow, languid strokes. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, keeping you in place as he devoured you.

You could barely concentrate, the pleasure clouding your mind, but you were determined. Leaning down, you took his cock back into your mouth, sucking him with renewed fervor. The combination of his tongue on you and the taste of him filling your senses had your head spinning, both of you lost in the intensity of the moment.

He was the first to pull away, his voice strained as he gasped for breath. “Baby, if you don’t stop, I’m going to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You smirked, sitting up slightly to look at him over your shoulder. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

Yeosang groaned, his eyes closing as he thrust up into your hand, but then his hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you off him. “Not yet, princess. I want to be inside you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you climbed off him, positioning yourself to straddle his hips. His cock was hard and leaking, practically begging for you, but he was patient, watching you with hooded eyes as you lined him up with your entrance.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust as you slowly sank down onto him, taking him inch by inch. The stretch was intense, but the pleasure soon followed, washing over you in waves as you finally seated yourself fully on top of him.

“Yeosang…” His name was a breathless moan as you adjusted, feeling him deep inside you, filling you completely. His hands gripped your waist, guiding you as you began to move, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion as you leaned down to kiss him. His lips met yours in a desperate, heated kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands tightened on your hips, helping you set a rhythm that had you both gasping for breath.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he groaned against your lips, his hips thrusting up to meet yours, hitting that perfect spot deep inside you. “You’re mine… all mine.”

Your movements became more frantic, your body chasing the release that was building rapidly inside you. Yeosang’s thrusts became harder, faster, and soon, you were both a tangled mess of limbs and moans, the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I’m close,” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as youfelt the tightening in your core, the tension building with every deep, deliberate thrust he gave you. His hands moved to your ass, guiding you, pulling you down harder onto his cock as he panted against your neck, whispering, "Cum for me, princess. I want to feel you lose it on my cock."

His words sent a shiver through your body, making the coil in your belly tighten even further. You could barely keep yourself upright as you rocked your hips, each movement drawing you closer to the edge. His cock hit that sweet spot over and over again, and with a loud cry, your body finally gave in.

"Yeosang!" you moaned, your voice high-pitched and breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life as you came hard around him. Your pussy clenched tightly, pulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, your orgasm so intense it left you shaking.

Yeosang groaned beneath you, feeling you contract around his cock, your tight walls squeezing him in a way that was driving him insane. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust up into you, chasing his own release.

Even through the haze of your orgasm, you couldn’t help but admire the sight of him beneath you. His face was flushed, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead as he bit his bottom lip, his eyes squeezed shut as he lost himself in the sensation of being buried deep inside you.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his jaw, then his neck, murmuring his name between kisses. "I love you," you whispered against his skin, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm coursing through you.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice strained as he reached his breaking point. “Fuck, I’m close.”

With a groan, Yeosang flipped you over, rolling you beneath him as he took control. He thrust into you with renewed intensity, his cock slamming into you with a raw hunger that had you crying out in pleasure again. His face hovered inches above yours, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he gazed down at you with nothing but pure desire.

“You're so beautiful,” he panted, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb brushed against your lips. His gaze was heavy, intense, as if he couldn't get enough of you, as if he wanted to savor every second of this moment.

Your body arched into his touch, his words making your heart race even faster. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you, relishing the way his cock stretched you open with each powerful thrust. You were so close again, the feeling of him inside you, his body pressed against yours, sending you right back toward the edge.

"Please, Yeosang…" You whimpered, barely able to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as your body succumbed to the pleasure. "Please… don't stop."

His smirk returned, dark and teasing, as he leaned down to kiss your swollen lips. "I'm not stopping until you scream my name."

With that promise hanging in the air, he increased his pace, driving into you harder, deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again. Your nails dug into his back, leaving red trails as you held onto him, your body completely at his mercy.

And then it hit you. Your second orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, stronger and more overwhelming than the first. Your entire body tensed, your back arching off the bed as your pussy clenched around him tightly, milking his cock as you screamed his name.

"Yeosang!" The sound of his name on your lips sent him spiraling. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep into you one last time.

"I'm cumming, fuck—" His voice was rough, ragged, as his orgasm took over. His cock throbbed inside you as he spilled into you, thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim. He moaned your name against your neck, his hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there would be marks the next morning.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, the only sound in the room the heavy breathing as you both came down from the high. Yeosang's body trembled slightly as he pulled out of you, a hiss escaping his lips at the sensitivity. You both gasped when you felt his warm cum drip out of you, leaving a sticky mess between your thighs.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you snuggled into his chest. His skin was warm, his heartbeat still racing beneath your ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers trailing soothingly along your back.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice tender now, a stark contrast to the hunger he had shown you moments ago.

You smiled, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart swelled with the warmth of his affection, and you felt a deep sense of contentment wash over you.

After a moment, Yeosang reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the small black velvet box. He handed it to you with a grin, his eyes soft but still filled with that playful spark.

"Here," he said, watching you with anticipation. "Your real present."

You sat up slightly, opening the box carefully, and your breath hitched when you saw the beautiful locket nestled inside. It was delicate, intricately designed, and when you opened it, your heart skipped a beat. Inside was a picture of you and Yeosang from your very first date, taken over a year ago. On the other side of the locket was an inscription that read, "I loved you first."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you looked at him, a smile spreading across your face. "You're really not going to let that go, are you?"

Yeosang chuckled, helping you fasten the locket around your neck. "Never. According to this," he tapped the locket gently, "I said it first."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart swelled with love. "Fine," you teased, "but I love you more."

His grin widened, and he pulled you into another kiss, his lips lingering on yours before he leaned back, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You ready for round two, birthday girl?" His voice was low and full of promise, his hand sliding down your back to rest on your waist.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you bit your bottom lip, feeling his body stir against yours once more. "Most definitely," you whispered huskily, leaning in close.

He chuckled, flipping you onto your back with ease as he hovered over you, his eyes dark with lust and affection. "Happy birthday, princess."

With that, he kissed you deeply, and you knew the night was far from over.

#yeosang #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #kpop #kpop smut #atz #yeosang smut #ateez yeosang #yeosang fanfic #yeosang x reader #smut

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nobodysdaydreams · 15 days ago

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I already know the Wizard is probably gonna be so scared of Dorothy for so many reasons.

First of all, she’s from our world and from the same region of the US, so she knows exactly where he’s from and the technology he’s using to fake his magic. In fact, if time in Oz and Kansas/Nebraska are moving at the same rate, Dorothy should be from a time period ahead of when the Wizard came to Oz and should be able to easily explain most of his “magic”.

Second of all, the Grimmerie’s prophecy is that it will be read by someone from the sky in Oz’s darkest hour. Obviously, that’s Elphaba counteracting the Wizard, but the Wizard has everyone convinced it was him fixing things after the drought. But now, Oz is under “threat” of the witch and a young girl from his world shows up, kills the sister of the Wizard’s enemy, and has a dog with her, possibly a talking one. Everyone thinks Dorothy is super powerful, she fits exactly what the Grimmerie predicted, and she has everything she needs to expose the Wizard. He’d be terrified.

This is how I picture it going down:

Some guard: “The girl is quite powerful, sir. She came from the sky and immediately killed the Wicked Witch of the East. She claims it was easy, unintentional even!”

The Wizard (to himself): “Nothing to worry about. That was technically Morrible’s doing, the fact that she came from the sky is coincidental. I’m certain she has no real power.”

The guard: “She also acquired the dead witch’s shoes and when the Wicked Witch of the West showed up to take them, it was discovered the witch had no power over the girl.”

The Wizard (trying not to freak out): “You mean…Elphaba was powerless to stop this new witch-killing visitor from the sky? One that killed her sister and stole her property? You don’t say. And um… did the girl happen to say where she was from?”

The guard: “Yes. Kansas. She claims it’s a place without magic or talking animals.”

The Wizard (slowly becoming paranoid and trying to play it off): “Oh really? Haha… how silly. Never heard of a place called Kansas or anywhere without magic seeing as I’m clearly a powerful Wizard. And um… where is this girl now?”

The guard: “Why, she’s on the way to the Emerald City right now along with two animals, a least one of which can talk, and two men cursed by the Witch of the West. Apparently, they want to see you, specifically.”

The Wizard (sweating): “They want to see ME? I mean um…who wouldn’t? Haha… but whatever for?”

The guard: “Well, they’re demanding you fix the condition of the two men the witch cursed, give the girl passage home, and help the talking lion overcome his trauma. Seeing as they are celebrated throughout Oz for killing one wicked witch for us, surely it is appropriate and well within your power to grant their requests immediately.”

The Wizard (slipping into madness and frantically trying to hide it): “Indeed it is I am a generous man yes, and I can totally do that for sure, yes of course, I have the power, but first, let’s take them all prisoner upon arrival just in case can never be too careful these days.”

The guard: “Sir… are you saying you want us to…”

The Wizard (shouting and trembling in fear): “Throw that little girl in prison, put those Animals in cages, and keep the two the witch cursed out of my sight! Tell them I’m busy! Tell them I have the flu! Tell them I’m out of town! Any excuse, I don’t care what it is, and whatever you do, DO NOT let that girl escape!”

By this point, the Wizard is paranoid out of his mind, assuming they are on the way to kill and/or expose him and given the company Dorothy keeps, it’s unlikely the Wizard will be very successful in getting her on his side. His goal would likely be to cage the Animals, find a way to deal with Boq and Fiyero (if he even recognizes them), and capture Dorothy as a potential enemy.

Maybe Elphaba writing “Surrender Dorothy” in the sky with her broom in this version of the story isn’t asking Dorothy herself to surrender, but demanding the Wizard to give Dorothy up because he takes her prisoner out of fear that she will expose him and the Wizard lets her go on the condition that she proves her loyalty by killing the Witch. The Wizard probably figures it’s a win/win for him: either Elphaba or Dorothy will die, and one of his enemies will destroy the other. What he wouldn’t expect is them working together, because as far as he knows, Dorothy has stolen the witch’s sister’s shoes and befriended two men cursed by the witch.

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fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

Text

Restrained

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,300+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know what possessed him to allow his lover to restrain him against his Captains' chair. But yet, here he is: stuck and loving it.

Themes: MDNI, smut, established relationship, Sub!kid x Dom!reader, gn!reader, nipple play - Kid receiving, untouched reader, untouched Kid.

Notes: I don't know why I needed to do this, but I did. He's just crept up on me. Send help. Something about large, powerful men being made to squirm. Art link.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @carrotsunshine

Eustass Kid's eyes widened, his muffled voice growling past the material of the woven gag. Saliva coated his chin, his red paint far from present within the boarder lines of his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he continued to strain against the seastone cuffs that bound his ankles to the chair legs.

Woven rope cinched tightly beneath his armpits, his right arm was bound to the backrest of the chair, while his stumped left was coiled tightly and restrained against the side of the chair.

Why did he agree to this again? What was the safety signal again? He just felt helpless, small, stuck - restrained.

As his eyes met with yours, your wicked smile crept up to decorate your face with suggestive intent. Your fingertips gently traced his scarred cheek, trailing down his jaw to brush lightly against his clavicle bone. As your fingertips trailed delicately lower against his chest, he writhed beneath your hand as it barely skimmed over his left nipple.

His belt buckle jingled as he attempted to greedily seek your touch where he desperately craved it. The waistband of his decorative pants and underwear fell further down his knees to pool at his boot-covered feet. The swollen tip of his angry cock throbbed, twitching in anticipation as it stood alert to receive its orders.

You remained fully clothed, your smile now softening into a small smirk. Your thumb casually traced over his left nipple once more, watching as Kid mewled within his gag and arched his back. His eyes widened further in shock as the first few droplets of pearly precum gathered in the slit of his cock.

This was the first time you had suggested such a thing: finally being the one in control for once. After much negotiating, and back and forth with what exactly that means, Kid agreed to be a willing puppy and accept all that he was given by your hands.

And what he was given was shibari restraint within his Captains’ chair, a gag thrust in between his lips, seastone cuffs attached to his ankles and a verbal reminder that, should he ever wish to stop, he was to tap his right heel three times firmly on the floor.

“Does that feel good, big guy?” you purred your sultry whisper into his left ear, “Like feeling my fingers on your sensitive nipples?”

Flicking your thumb over his left nipple, you began to focus your attention on his right: pinching it lightly between your index and middle finger. In scissoring motions, you rolled the tender skin between your secondary knuckles: always gentle, always soft, always tender.

Kid was panting heavily now, brows knit in a deep furrow with sweat pooling beneath the band of his blast goggles. Scrunching his eyes tightly shut, his black eyeliner began to smudge with a mixture of glassy tears at the stimulation he was and wasn't receiving.

The dance of his untouched cock bobbing in the air, veins pulsating with desire, held your attention for a moment: debating whether you should pay the poor, neglected boy some attention. Your smile widened as you chose to continue your negligence, focussing solely on his nipples.

You straddled his lap, hooking your thighs over his knees and intentionally keeping any stimulus away from his needy cock. He cried out in muffled desperation, opening his tightly scrunched eyes and begging you with his accusatory gaze.

The twitch of his knob enchanted you, watching as the blood rush deepened the hue and had his breath hitching.

“Am I not treating you well?” you taunted him with a mocking pout, “Too much and too little all at once?”

He bobbed his head frantically, his mind dizzy with the focus of his sensation being so far from his cock. He truly did not understand why this zone of his body had the pit of his stomach coiling within his belly, his balls sucked up deep within his stomach and the tip of his cock twitching like he was about to explode.

“You think this is too much,” you commented in a low hum, “Just wait until you feel this.”

Leaning down, you licked a clean stripe with the tip of your tongue down his left pectoral, rolling his right nipple within your thumb and index finger as you thumbed over his left. He mewled, keening and whimpering like a needy puppy as he tucked his head into his shoulder to avoid your eyes.

His breath hitched, his cock straining as his mind fogged. Your flattened tongue ground itself against the sensitive nub of his left nipple, before you swirled the tip in skillful circles. He honestly felt like the pit in his stomach was about to burst. He clamped his eyes shut once more, blood flooding to his cheeks: dusting his skin with a warm hue of vibrant red.

Tugging and sucking at the flesh had him writhing in his seat: gyrating, thrusting, and circling to attempt to rub his touch-starved cock against any surface to provide it stimulus. You giggled against his flesh before vibrating a hum into his peaked nipple.

He almost forgot how to breathe, the feelings were too overwhelming for him to process. You released his nipple from your mouth with an overemphatic ‘pop’, Kid’s eyes reopening to meet his whisky-hue orbs with your own. His irises were almost completely missing, the dark onyx of his pupils claiming dominance against his eyes.

Floating your eyes between his own, briefly fluttering down to his gagged mouth, you leaned forward and pressed a small kiss against his lips. The kiss was chaste, his lips barely being able to meet with your own beneath the woven gag. Pulling away, you smiled at him while still flicking at his right nipple.

Without tearing your eyes from his, you leant down to his left nipple once more. Kid held his breath, fully expecting you to toy with him with your lips and tongue. What you did instead was lean forward, hover your lips in a perfect circle, and blew a lengthy breath of cold air against the saliva coated surface of his left nipple.

The band snapped within his stomach; the sudden shocked arrival of an unsuspecting orgasm erupting from the swollen tip of Kid’s impressive cock had his voice crying out for you. You pulled away from his nipples, sensing a twitch in his thigh that only ever occured when he was about to explode in passion.

Thick ropes of his cum spent itself on his stomach, smaller squirts of pearly, translucent droplets spurted within the air and coated his pubic hair at the base of his shaft. His thick, red pubic hair was marked by his sticky cum: coating each strand with his passionate release.

Cries of his bliss were caught within the material of the saliva-dampened gag, halting the true sobs and whimpers he was desperately screaming in gratitude to you. Your shock was evident in your eyes, a surprised smile swelled up to your cheeks as you watched this impressively larger man become undone without any stimulus to his quivering cock.

Huffing and panting, the final spurts of his spend leaked from his shiney tip, pooling down his velvety shaft with several whimpering twitches. You cooed at him in awe, softly pressing a small kiss against the apple of his cheek as you halted the pressure on his nipples.

“Aww, that was so cute!” you chirped at him, his eyes snapping open with his brows triangulating in the center of his forehead, “You wanna do it again?”

His right heel bounced frantically against the floor, indicating in panic that he was completely and totally unprepared to have that occur again. You giggled with your head nodding, hands presenting your palms upwards in defense before removing the gag from your lover’s lips.

“Okay, big guy,” you smiled at him, tugging down the material and shimmying it down his chin, “How do you feel?” you caressed his cheeks, pressing gentle kisses against his temple and forehead.

“Like I-...” he choked on his words, glancing down at the mess coating his lap and chair, “...like I shouldn't have liked that as much as I did.”

#one piece #x reader #eustass kid #eustass x reader #one piece eustass #op kid #one piece kid #kid x reader #eustass kid x reader #op kid smut #eustass kid smut #i have been writing him very sub lately

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librababe99 · 3 months ago

Text

Trigger Control

CW: MDNI 18+ ONLY, Wade Wilson, Fem!Reader, Gun Play

word count: 1.3K

A/N: Y'all remember that little spin Wade did to reload his gun before he fought Logan in the Void? Well, I was thinking about it and had the most filthy thoughts...As always comments likes and reblogs are appreciated!

The room was bathed in a dim, crimson glow, the neon sign flickering just outside the window, casting erratic shadows over the walls. It was the kind of night that felt electric, where every breath hung in the air, charged with something dangerous and unsaid.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, wearing nothing but one of Wade's old t-shirts. It barely skimmed past your thighs, the fabric soft and worn against your skin. Across the room, Wade leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his scarred chest, his tactical pants hanging low on his hips. His eyes, dark and full of that familiar, cocky heat, never left you. In his hand, he casually held a sleek black Glock, spinning it idly as if it were no more dangerous than a toy.

“You know,” his voice was a low rasp, lazy, yet sharp with an edge that made your breath catch, “this little game of ours? I’m starting to think you like it way too much.”

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, trying to maintain your composure. “And what game is that?”

Wade pushed off the wall with ease, swaggering toward you in that predatory way that always made your pulse quicken. The closer he came, the tighter the tension wound inside you. His gaze flickered down your body, lingering on your bare legs, exposed beneath the hem of the shirt that barely clung to your hips.

"The one where you pretend this doesn't turn you on." The gun in his hand shifted, and the sight of it sent a ripple of heat through your core. He wasn’t threatening—at least, not exactly. But there was something about the weight of the weapon in his hand, the knowledge of what it could do, that made you feel alive, aware of every inch of your body and how tightly strung you were.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Wade…”

“Shhh,” he murmured, stepping in close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hand slid under your chin, tilting your face up toward his. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, just barely, a tease of what could come. “Look at you. So fucking pretty when you’re trying to be tough.”

Your breath hitched when the gun—cold, solid, unyielding—brushed against the side of your thigh. The chill of the metal against your skin sent shivers coursing through you, every nerve sparking to life. It was intimate, dangerously so. Wade’s gaze held yours, the glint in his eyes darker now, hungrier.

“Feel that?” he whispered, dragging the gun up the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate. “That’s power, baby. And you love it, don’t you?”

Your body betrayed you, arching ever so slightly toward the cold metal, thighs parting instinctively as he brought the barrel closer to your heat. You gasped, the sensation sharper than you expected, a mix of cold steel and burning need.

“Answer me,” Wade growled, voice rough, almost primal, as he pressed the gun just beneath the curve of your ass. “You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, raw with desire.

His lips twitched into a wicked grin, leaning in closer, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “I thought so.”

The gun traced a slow path up your body, the barrel cold against your skin, pausing at the hem of the shirt. Wade’s breath was hot against your neck, his free hand gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body was overwhelming, contrasting with the icy touch of the gun as it slid higher, pushing the fabric of the shirt up with it.

He leaned back, just enough to lock eyes with you, his grin stretching wider. “I could put one in the chamber right now,” he said, his tone dark and full of twisted amusement. The barrel of the gun nudged higher, grazing your bare skin beneath the shirt, the cool steel brushing against your stomach. “Right here. Between your legs. And you’d still trust me, wouldn’t you?”

Your heart pounded, breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. It wasn’t fear, not with him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. The danger, the thrill of it, only fueled the fire burning low in your belly.

“I trust you,” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips before you could even think.

Wade’s grin softened, but the hunger in his eyes only grew darker. He pressed the gun against your skin again, dragging it up higher, stopping just beneath your breasts. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. “You’re something else, baby.”

With one swift motion, he flipped the gun in his hand, pressing the cool grip into your palm. You hesitated for a moment, the weight of it heavy, solid. Wade stepped back, just a few inches, but enough to give you space, his eyes gleaming with mischief and desire.

“Go on,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Show me how much you trust me.”

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you wrapped your fingers around the gun, lifting it slowly. Wade’s chest rose and fell with his breathing, his hands raised in mock surrender as you aimed it at him, the barrel pointed directly at his chest.

He didn’t flinch. If anything, his grin widened, his gaze locked on yours. “That’s it,” he said softly, his voice like a dark caress. “You gonna shoot me, sweetheart?”

The power was intoxicating. You felt it humming through your veins as you held the gun steady, watching his every move. Your finger hovered near the trigger, the temptation sending a sharp thrill through you.

Wade took a step forward, his chest nearly brushing the barrel now. “Or are you gonna give in to that ache between your legs?”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your stomach. The tension between you was unbearable, a razor-thin line between danger and desire. Your grip tightened around the gun as Wade’s hand slid along the barrel, lowering it slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Before you could react, he grabbed you, his lips crashing into yours with a fierce, desperate hunger. The gun slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor, forgotten in the haze of heat and need. Wade’s hands were rough, gripping your hips, pulling you hard against him as he deepened the kiss, his teeth grazing your lower lip.

You moaned into his mouth, hands clutching at his shoulders as he guided you backward, his lips never leaving yours. His body pressed against you, solid, hot, unyielding. You could feel him, hard and ready, pressing insistently against your thigh.

Wade broke the kiss, panting heavily, his forehead resting against yours. “God, you drive me fucking insane,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” you whispered, voice shaking with desire, your hands gripping the waistband of his pants, tugging him closer.

He laughed, dark and full of heat, before his lips were on yours again, rougher this time, more desperate. His hands slid beneath the hem of the shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, pulling the fabric up and over your head in one swift motion.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he rasped, his eyes raking over you, drinking in every inch of bare skin exposed to him.

His hands moved to your thighs, lifting you easily as he pressed you back against the wall, his body caging you in. You wrapped your legs around his waist, gasping as the hard length of him pressed against your core, only the thin fabric of his pants separating you.

He ground his hips into you, and you arched against him, a moan spilling from your lips as the friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. “Wade,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Yeah, baby,” he growled, his mouth moving to your neck, biting down just enough to leave a mark. “I’m gonna give you what you need.”

#wade wilson #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson x fem reader #wade wilson x girlfriend!reader #wade wilson x reader #kink: gun play #tw: guns #mcu comics #mcu fandom #marvel #ryan reynolds #light smut #deadpool 3 #mcu movies

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morgana-ren · 1 year ago

Text

Bit the bullet and did the power-hungry ending on my exploratory playthrough to get it over with. I always love my boy, but he does very much turn into a bastard. Wrote this very quickly as a quick exercise because I hated that I had no dialogue that felt right. Anyway, enjoy the trash. Nothing explicit happens but a lot of dubious, awful shit is implied so please read at your own risk. Spoilers, obviously.

“And of course, I couldn’t have accomplished all this without you, and one wicked turn deserves another,” His eyes flash crimson beneath his pale lashes, glowing ominously in the firelight. “So tell me, my love, what is it that you desire?”

He expects her glossy elevator eyes and a seductive smile. For her to reach for him with her soft, little hands and pull him close, aching to feel him– to taste him in all of his newfound resplendent glory. To offer her neck in submission, pleading for him to change her, to become like him, to sit at his side eternally as he rules from his throne on high as his most beloved spawn. His first and most revered creature of the night. His queen.

But she doesn’t.

Her brows furrow, the corner of her lips tugging inward as she purses them. It’s not the reaction he was expecting, to say the least. He frowns as he inspects her expression, trying to suss out exactly what it is that plagues her. She looks worried– anxious, even. She pulls her gaze away from him, stepping back away from him ever so slightly, staring at the dirt for a moment before speaking.

“I just wanted you to be happy, Astarion. You were always so afraid, so paranoid that something or someone was going to come for you in the night. I never wanted you to have to worry about that ever again.” “And now I don’t,” He arches a pale brow. “Isn’t this what you wanted, my love? We’ll never fear anything ever again.” He feels her uncertainty vibrate the air around him, a sense of unease that permeates through her pores. It is not love and adoration and undying loyalty that she offers, but trepidation.

“I know. I know it’s everything you ever wanted, and I’m happy for you, but it just seems like–” “Just seems like what?” He cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at her.

“It seems like it’s changed you somehow. You’re– you’re different,” She reaches a tender hand up to caress his cheek, and he fights the instinct to lean into her touch.

“I am different,” He insists, his voice raising slightly. “Power beyond imagining. There has never been a vampire such as I am now. I feel it coursing through my veins, practically bursting at the seams with it–” That familiar habit crawls up his tongue, and he slips the words before he even thinks them over. “And we did it together. I’m untouchable now, and thus, so are you. It’s our world to take, darling. I love you. Isn’t that what you wanted so desperately?”

There’s a twinge of something he doesn’t quite recognize from her. Hurt, or perhaps… disappointment?

“Asto, I never wanted to strongarm or manipulate you into loving me. I care deeply for you, but that’s my burden to bear. I never wanted more from you than you wanted to give.”

“Then what did you want?” His lips curl downward into a frown, and he closes the gap between them that she created, stepping close enough to her to have her shifting.

“I just–” She pauses, her words hanging heavy in the air and on her mind as she says them. “--I had hoped you would have let go after killing Cazador. Realized that you don’t need power everlasting to be happy. I guess I thought you would have learned something from all of this–”

“Learn what, exactly?” His tone shifts, his words pointed and cruel as he spits them out, fists furling at his sides. “You naive, silly little girl. You’ve no idea what it’s like– what the world is truly like. You dare to condemn me after what I’ve seen? You’d judge me for taking strength where I find it? Strength that I use to protect both of us? To save your pretty little neck from all those creatures who seek to spill your blood? You dare pretend to understand?

He feels it through the tadpole— The whip and lash of barbed grief against her heart, ripping through her chest like a fanged maw. It's enough to almost bring him to his knees, but if it wasn't for their bond, he wouldn't have the slightest idea. Her face hardens and she betrays nothing at all: a slow blink in his direction, emotionless face creaseless as porcelain, not a thing betrayed—

—Save her eyes. There's something in her eyes that tears at him. Panics him. He cannot place it but fear creeps up his spine, taking hold in his brain. Something disappears from them as he speaks and they glaze over, empty and melancholic. As if she is letting go.

She shakes her head, the column of her throat twitching ever so slightly as she hard-swallows. "You're right. I— I don't. I'm sorry," She turns her eyes from him, and her expression hardens into something unreadable entirely. "I'll leave it then. I don’t want anything from you. Enjoy your power, Astarion. You’ve– you’ve earned it."

There is something unspoken in her words that batters at his brain, panicked and flapping about as a freshly caged bird. He prods at their connection and feels her recoil from him— feels her retreat into the recesses of her mind, severing their connection where she can, and blanking him out where she cannot. She is locking him out— and he realizes that it is perhaps for good.

His lip curls as she turns from him without another word, walking away, abandoning the conversation— abandoning him. There's a flash of sanguine rage and a pulse of power not entirely his own yet and his hand extends of its own will, fingers grasping at her throat and drawing her again, nails digging into the same flesh he'd once caressed so tenderly.

"Don't you walk away from me! Don't you ever turn your back on me again! Do you understand?"

Fear. That's what's in her eyes now. Not fear of him, but fear of what he has done. Of what she has allowed him to become. She searches him for a trace of the man she'd cared for, the man she shed blood for— both hers and countless others— to save. All she finds is a twisted mockery of it. The man she has helped him become— if a man is what you can call him.

She has created a monster, and now he has turned his blood-red gaze on her.

"Astarion—"

He feels her pulse in his palm, rabbiting away in her ribs, the scent of her rushing blood palpable in his lungs. The very same scent as when she stares down a pack of howling gnolls or a murderous cultist with a knife to her belly. It is a scent that so often fades when he is near enough to her for comfort, but it is more powerful than ever as he bears down on her now.

"That's not how this is going to work, darling," He hisses, yanking her so close he can see himself in the whites of her wide eyes. "You are never to walk away from me again. Am I clear?"

The force of her rage hits him, edged with red, raw disgust. Her lip twitches, eyes narrowing on him as the malaise of her mourning is devoured by a tidal wave of both her pride and her indignant anger. "I am not your servant. You do not command me."

"Is that so? Isn't that what you wanted? Hmm? To lose yourself in me like you told me once upon a time? You wanted me to care for you– to love you– and I’ve told you that I do. You sought something from me and now you dare to turn your back on me?"

"I wanted to be with you! I cared about you! You're not some toy to be played with or some vessel for pleasure! I never wanted anything from you that you didn’t willingly give!" She stumbles over the words, shame seeping through her like a thick, viscous ink. "I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know what he had done to you—"

"And it doesn't matter," He sneers, sharp eyes locked on hers. "You gave yourself to me that night, did you not? You saw me through everything standing at my side, cut down as many bodies as I, handed me the knife I used to carve Cazador's skin, gave me your eyes so that I might sign the contract that pledged my soul and countless others to the hells, and now you dare to pretend your hands are clean as you point a finger at me?"

"I wanted you to feel safe! To never have to look over your shoulder in fear ever again! To never again have to sleep with one eye open like we do now, just waiting for the creatures that stalk the shadows to swoop down upon us! For the first time in your life, I wanted you to know for certain that you could kill anything that threatened you or your freedom! I never wanted to tear down Cazador's tyrannical throne only to place you upon it— but it seems that's exactly what I've done!"

Something in his body snaps, and his reaction is a visceral, violent scarlet slash of fury. He squeezes her neck, baring ivory fanged teeth down on her as he would a prey. "Do not ever compare me to him!"

Her eyes are wide with fear– with disgust– as she croaks out the words from beneath his palm.

“Look at yourself, Astarion. Am I wrong?”

He looks down at her, at the woman he claims to love as he chokes her and she suffocates on his power, her bruising throat flexing in strain beneath his steely fingertips. He can just barely make himself out in the dewy sheen of her eyes as they begin to water, and what stares back at him isn’t a man– it is a monster.

Something in him shatters like glass, the last threads of his sanity slipping away through his fingertips. He is too far gone now to turn back, too lost in the red mist to find the light.

But he will not wander it alone. He will never be alone again.

"I am whatever I say I am, and you are what I say you are, and you will do as I command. Your place is at my side, now and forever," He challenges her, fingers squeezing tighter on her throat as he breathes in the sweet, saccharine scent of her terror; the palpating, rocketing pulse of her thrumming heart. "And you will acquiesce to me. It’s not a request."

"Don't you dare presume to order me about like I'm your slave!" She claws at his wrist, trying to wrench free of his grip. “I never agreed to that!”

“You don’t have to, my love,” He leans down further, pressing his forehead to hers. “Because I have decided for you.”

“You do not get that right!” She snarls, baring her own teeth back at him.

“Oh, but I do, darling. But I do. You don’t seem to grasp how this is going to work, so allow me to explain it to you.”

He shoves her hard to the ground, releasing her throat only to leer over her from above, stepping on either side of her body. Her will is iron, but the flash of fear across her face is unmistakable.

“You gave yourself to me, and I intend to keep what is mine. Your body is so fragile– so frail– You’d never survive without me, and I have no intentions of letting you go now that I have you. So you will stay by my side always. It’s what’s best for you, my little love, and you belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Yes,” He says firmly, as if scolding a small child. “You do.”

“I don’t have to obey you!” She hisses.

“Not yet, perhaps.”

Horror grips her and realization takes hold. “You wouldn’t, Astarion. You can’t do this–”

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” He bends his knees, leaning down as he brushes the hair from her neck, thumb stroking tauntingly over her pulse point. “I wanted you to come willingly. I wanted you to ask for it, accept my gift of your own volition. But you’re a foolish, willful girl. You don’t know what’s good for you, do you? So I will show you.”

“After everything? After everything you’ve been through? After everything we have been through?” Her voice breaks, and with it, her heart. Her strength slips away, and he can feel it swallow his senses in a wretched black void, sending him drowning him in her abyssal anguish– her betrayal at his hands– but he shoves it down and locks it away. Something he cannot place claws and tears at his own heart with a need so violent it almost sends him reeling, something begging him to stop, that this isn’t right– to her of all people– but he silences it. He will not lose her. He will not.

Even if he must place a collar around her neck to keep her and keep her leash pulled taut.

And what she has to say about it is of little consequence.

“This doesn’t have to hurt, my sweet girl,” He says softly, flicking his tongue over a fang. “But I know you like when it does.”

“Astarion, please! I don’t want to have to hurt you–” He laughs, vicious and cruel, cackling like a hyena over carrion. “As if you could! I’m untouchable. The very power of the night bends to my commands, and so too shall you. Even your blood sings for me, eager and ready and willing. Begging for me,” He places his hand softly on her chest, just above her rips, feeling the gentle pump beneath. “You want this, even as you play coy. You want to belong to me. So I will give it to you what you desire.”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” A single silver tear slips down the gentle curve of her cheek.

He blinks at her, and for a moment, he freezes upon seeing her tears and she can see a glimpse of him in there. Somewhere deep and far, screaming and thrashing and desperate against his own might, fighting a war against his very nature. He looks at her with the same eyes that revere her, crave her, love her– but above all, honor her.

For a fleeting moment, he is the Astarion she loves. His lip trembles and quakes and the urge to hold her is overwhelming. To comfort her. To hold her close and keep her safe and protect her, to strike down all her fears with his bare hands. To love her.

And yet he is the source of her pain.

“Yes.”

And then he is gone again. The light goes out and his eyes become inky black pits, nothing in them but her own miserable reflection as he leans down ever further, his warm breath against her neck as he teases her throat with a fang.

“Give yourself to me, now and always,” He whispers, blasphemous and terrible as it runs a shiver down her spine. “By my side now and forever. It’s all ours, my love. Everything we lay eyes upon. We can have it all. Wealth, power– each other. Centuries upon centuries stretching into the endless horizon of eternity. I want it all, and I want to share it with you.”

She could raise a hand to him. She could try and fight him off with tooth and nail and flame. She could kick and crawl, scramble away back to the safety of camp. She could–

But she doesn’t.

“I don’t want this, Astarion. A beloved slave is still a slave. A diamond collar is still a collar. A leash held by someone you love is still a leash. I love you, but you can’t force this. Please–” She exhorts, trying to swallow back a bout of fresh tears. “Please don’t do this. Not to me. Not to you.”

He inhales raggedly, hand slipping up to her cheek to cup it, savoring her warmth one last time.

“I have to. I won’t lose you. Not now, not ever. Not to age or blight or foolish notions. I cherish you, and I’d see you safe.”

“A gilded cage is still a cage.” She closes her eyes, hand furled in his doublet.

“And I will carry it with me. Always.”

#Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate 3 spoilers #astarion x tav #Astarion Romance #Sorta anyways #Sad shit fellas sad shit #babys first angst #I don't usually write stuff like this so uh #not necessarily true to his character but thats not what this is about

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radio-writes · 10 months ago

Text

Your Place in the Eyes of a God

Synopsis: You thought yourself oh so lucky that the demon who owned your soul was charming and kind.

Most people just had monsters ordering them about, at least your owner Alastor saw you as a lovely companion.

Warnings: Implied abusive relationship, power imbalance

Tags: Relationship can be read in any way; Alastor x Reader; gn!reader

MDNI

Being under contract, you weren't exactly overjoyed at the fact that you didn't own your own soul, but at least your contractor wasn't a monster, right? At least he was sweet, and funny, and charming.

And oh was he charming.

That is how your soul ended up chained to his after all.

He was always so kind to you. He treated you as if you were a friend—a person.

He had taken you out for meals; showed you off from time to time. He had adored every single gift you ever gave him. He had always asked you to smile because he just found you oh so

"Lovely," He said.

And it filled your head with clouds every single time. His soft compliments never failed to make you forget where you actually stood.

So, you never really expected things to change so quickly. So drastically.

You desperately slapped your hands over your mouth, clasped tight against your lips to silence even the smallest whimpers that threatened to slip out. You pressed against the wall, hiding, maybe if even hoping that it would open up and swallow you whole. Take you some place else—anywhere else—but here.

You watched with wide, teary eyes, unable to look away.

It was hard for you to connect the charming man you fell for with the nightmare of a creature you saw looming over Husk.

That thing that threatened to rip the poor man's soul apart couldn't possibly be your Alastor, right? There was no way that was your sweet, funny, charming Alastor.

But those hands that yanked at the chain were unmistakably the same ones that gently combed through you hair at night.

That smile he held while he threatened the man was unmistakably the same one you woke up sweetly to almost every morning.

That voice, albeit distorted more than usual by static, promising wicked acts, was unmistakably the same voice that softly greeted you good morning, asking if you had a good rest.

There was no mistake. There was no denying it.

"Understood," You barely hear Husk's frightened response.

"Lovely," Alastor praised before he left Husk shaking on the ground by his feet.

You felt your heart sink immediately.

Lovely. The word echoed in your head, your blood now ran cold.

Lovely. The mockery, the disdain, the obvious threat to obey him or else. You didn't think such a simple word could hold so much malice.

"I can't wait to wear that new necklace you got for me!"

"I got you this tie because it just seemed like it was your style!"

"Of course, I'm smiling! I'm with you, aren't I?"

You didn't notice when your knees finally gave away under you. You didn't notice when you started crying. Your body simply crumpled to the floor as you continued to press your hands against your mouth, silencing the sobs that ripped through you.

Alastor had already left. You didn't need to hide around the corner anymore. You were safe now.

No. Have you ever truly been safe?

Because what was his response? What did he say every time you followed his requests? Every time you excitedly handed him whatever trinket you thought he'd like? Every time you smiled for him?

Lovely. The word rang in your ears.

Lovely.

It wasn't a compliment, you realized.

It was never a compliment. It was a praise. A praise for being such a good, obedient pet.

#tw: implied abusive relationship #tw: power imbalance #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x gn!reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Vien Writes #Alastor's little “lovely” lives in my head rent free if you can't tell #Not just rent free really i think i pay for it to stay there

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rylem33 · 2 months ago

Text

Something Wicked

“Are you sure about this, Mia?” Mark asked as the trio made their way toward the small community theater. He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, trying to keep his nerves in check. “I mean, I thought you were just being silly. I didn’t think we’d actually go through with it.”

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun,” Mia grinned, nudging Mark’s shoulder. “You and Chris are a riot together. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are perfect for you two, and I’ve always wanted to play Ophelia. Just imagine all the fun we’ll have!”

Chris, who was walking slightly behind them, chimed in with a grin. “She’s right, man. It’s a local production and we’ve got some experience from high school. Plus, I already made a bet with Derek that we’d land parts. Don’t back out now.”

Mark sighed but nodded. “Alright, fine. But if I have to wear tights, I’m blaming you both.”

They arrived at the theater, where a small crowd had already gathered for auditions. The director, a quirky man with wire-rimmed glasses and a slicked-back ponytail, greeted them at the door.

“Ah, you three are here for Macbeth, right?” He flipped through his clipboard, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Ophelia, yes?”

“That’s the plan!” Mia said, beaming.

The director raised an eyebrow and tapped his clipboard. “Well, I’ve got something else in mind for you. How about… the Three Witches?”

“What?” Chris laughed nervously, looking at Mark. “You mean us? As witches?”

Mark shifted awkwardly, not sure how to react. “Uh, I don’t think we’re exactly… witch material.”

Mia frowned. “I was really hoping to audition for Ophelia.”

The director waved off their protests. “Of course! But first try this. The witches are essential—a turning point of the play. You’ll be great! Just trust me.” He added, “And trust yourselves. You’ll get into the role soon enough.”

The trio were skeptical but decided to give it a go. They were given their scripts and led away from the other actors into the empty theater. The house lights dimmed, and the director nodded encouragingly.

“Just start from the top. Double, double, toil and trouble…“

They exchanged nervous glances, shuffling their scripts.

Mia took the lead, her voice wavering slightly as she attempted to conjure the tone of the scene. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and… uh… cauldron…” She trailed off, blinking at the page. “Crap, what was the next part?”

Chris, holding his script too low to read properly, squinted in the dim lighting. “I didn’t prepare this part.”

Mark, trying to keep it together, shook his head. “Its okay. Just read the lines and act like a witch, man.”

“I don’t know how witches act!” Chris snapped back, feeling self-conscious.

The director sighed audibly from his seat in the front row. “Alright, stop, stop.” He rubbed his temples before standing up. “You three need to commit to this. You’re witches! You’re mystical, dangerous! This is no time for hesitancy.”

Mia blushed, her confidence shaken. “Sorry, I just didn’t think I’d be trying for this role.”

The director shook his head again. “At yet, here we are. I’ll set the scene. You’re witches. You’ve got power, mystery—seduction—in your words! Now stop questioning it. Feel the part. Let it take over!”

The trio exchanged glances again, still unsure. “Alright… I guess we’ll try again?” Mia offered, biting her lip.

The director waved his hand. “Start over. From the top.”

They nodded, still skeptical but determined to give it another shot.

Mia started once more, her voice a little stronger this time. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Chris followed, squinting at the script, “Fillet of a fenny snake, in the cauldron boil and bake.”

Mark was about to chime in when the director suddenly shouted, “Cut!” His assistant hurried over, and the director began talking to her in hushed tones, their discussion unclear.

While the director was distracted, Chris shifted awkwardly, glancing at Mia and Mark with a sheepish grin. “I still don’t know what any of this means…”

Mia giggled, but then, as if it bubbled up from somewhere deep inside, her giggle turned into a high-pitched cackle. It echoed off the theater walls, sharp and eerie.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

Mia blinked, her cheeks reddening. “I don’t know. It just… came out.” She shrugged.

Chris grinned, thinking she was just messing around. “That was… weirdly witchy.”

Mia’s eyes gleamed for a second. “Weird? Or perfect?” Her voice was lower now, more seductive, and her smile lingered longer than it should have. The boys laughed it off.

The director returned to the stage. “Alright, from the top. And I want commitment this time.”

Mia jumped into the role, her voice taking on an almost unearthly quality. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Mark opened his mouth to deliver his line, but it felt stuck in his throat. Mia’s tone had changed. She was acting so unlike herself. So much like the role.

Chris noticed too. He was late to his next line, too focused on Mia and the intense look in her eyes. “Uh, Eye of newt, and toe of frog…” His voice wavered, but it seemed like Mia’s confidence was only growing.

Mark squeaked out. “Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting…”

Mia straightened, her chin up high, her posture confident. “For a charm of powerful trouble, like a hell-broth boil and bubble.” The words rolled off her tongue.

Her clothes had subtly started to shift from her casual audition outfit to something more fitted. Her shirt tightened and hardened into a black corset that wrapped around her torso. Not that she noticed, she was too engrossed in the role.

The director watched, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Good, yes… better.”

Chris stared at Mia and saw her shirt change causing him to stumble over his next line. “Uh, By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes…”

Mark and Chris exchanged nervous glances. This wasn’t right. But Mia? She was falling further and further into the part.

The director stepped forward, clapping slowly. “Magnificent,” he purred.

Mia turned toward the director, her lips curling into a slow, sultry smile. “Shall we continue, then?” she purred, stepping closer to him, her voice low, almost a growl. “There’s so much more we can do.”

Mark and Chris watched her with wide eyes, still in shock at how drastically she had changed in just a few moments.

“Are you… okay, Mia?” Mark asked cautiously.

Mia turned to him slowly, her eyes narrowing. She stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “Mia?” she spoke, her voice hard with an unfamiliar rasp. “Who is Mia? We have work to do, sisters.”

Chris snorted, assuming she was still messing around. “Good one, Mia,” he said, shaking his head.

But Mia didn’t laugh or smile. She simply gazed at them both with a knowing smirk, her eyes flickering with something. Mark opened his mouth to speak again, but the director interrupted.

“Alright, let’s go again! Action!”

The scene resumed, but now there was something different in the air. The moment Mia began her lines, it was as if a switch had flipped. Her voice rolled out effortlessly, oozing power and seduction. “Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble.”

Suddenly, Mark and Chris felt something shift inside them. A strange tingling sensation spread through their minds, like fog creeping into their thoughts.

Chris started, “Eye of newt, and toe of frog…” as his voice pitched up an octave.

Mark followed, “Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting…” a seductive tilt entering his words.

The director watched them with growing satisfaction, nodding as the transformation took hold.

Mark blinked, as his body began to shift, his muscular frame softening into more delicate, feminine curves. His jeans morphed into a sleek black leather skirt, his shoes elongating into stiletto heels. His chest filled out, his shirt morphing into a tight, corset-like top. His hair, once short, lengthened into platinum blonde locks that cascaded over his shoulders.

His words flowed naturally now, without the hesitation from before. “Cool it with a baboon’s blood, then the charm is firm and good.”

Chris, too, began to feel the change. His broad shoulders shrank, his arms slimming as his black T-shirt melted into a shiny corset, complete with straps that wrapped around his now hourglass figure. His dark hair lengthened into luscious waves, his lips darkening to a deep crimson.

His body moved more fluidly, his voice softening as he delivered his lines. “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

The director stepped forward, clapping slowly. “Magnificent,” he purred, his eyes gleaming.

Mia turned towards her sisters. Her coven. Her lips curled into a slow, sultry smile. “Shall we continue, then?”

#f2f transformation #personality change #f2f #m2f transformation

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ruskaroma · 1 year ago

Text

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 2: you get me closer to god.

Summary: John is a manipulator, and she, is the new subject of his obsession.

Warnings: this chapter contains stalking, mentions of large age gap, graphic descriptions of violence, and manipulation.

read the warnings. john is not only a menace, he is evilllll.

Author’s note: and we are back, baby. today, in this chapter, you are going to be witnessing a LOT of fucked up shit from none other than john wick himself. my man’s been doing a lot, god bless his poor soul.

also may i remind you all that the reader here is naive! she is stupid! she is not the brightest! she’s just desperate for attention and affection, so her decisions are always stupid and all of that. (please do not hate her, she is trying her best.)

this took me a while to write because it’s long asf and also because you know me, i always struggle with the english language, but i hope i won’t disappoint you with this chapter!

thank you so much for waiting and continuing to support this fic! really, it gives me a lot of motivation to keep writing, and i really appreciate all your sweet comments and reblogs on my last post.

i hope you also enjoy this new chapter since we’re going to have another peak of what goes on in john’s dark, dark mind. (I PROMISE THE SEX SCENE WOULD BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.)

and again, this is not edited so all mistakes are on me! i really do apologize, english is not my first language.

Word count: 10.6k

also read on AO3

In this business, you’d see different kinds of reactions when a man walks into a room.

They all see themselves above everybody else. They think they’re better, deadlier, smarter. That’s the kind of mindset you need if you want to survive. How will you get out of being held at gunpoint when you’re a weakling?

When a man walks into a room, they’ll take a moment to stare.

On the outside, you’d think these people have a lot of respect for one another since they all work in the same circle anyway. But in real life, you’d see the blatant lack of respect these people truly have for each other, because they’ll stare and judge.

When John walks into a room, it’s a different story.

Fear.

John is not like any other man in business they think they could just judge and get away with it, no. John is well respected and feared. He could see it in their eyes when he pass by. The extreme discomfort and alarm to be in the same presence as him. Even if they try so hard to hide it, John sees right through them.

They view him as… something but human. He’s a killing machine. An attack dog. A monster, some would even say.

Back in the days, John wasn’t exactly fond of the names they’ve been giving him. When he was still new in the game, he didn’t like how he struck fear over these people because he wasn’t quite sure how to handle the power he truly has over them.

But now, something has shifted.

John is a free man. Not the kind of free when he was with Helen, but free nonetheless. Free because instead of getting alarmed with the fact that he’s feared all over this underworld, he’s taking advantage of it. Much to the higher ups dismay. They have been having a very hard time keeping up with his recent activities.

Growing up, it seemed like John got the worst sadistic discipline in Ruska Roma.

All of them did, don’t get him wrong. All of them suffered – blood, sweat and tears. They were all forced to go through extreme discipline, because it’s the crack of the whip that gets the rats going.

But John… John got the worst of it.

He used to take the fall for his fellow students. Fingers couldn’t count just how many times he was belted on the back for someone else’s mistake. The amount of times he was starved, denied of any kind of food or water, and that’s how it’s always been.

John has always been denied for the things he wanted. The things he needed.

Now, he is not greedy. He’s not just going to take everything in his way like a kid that got away from its parents’ grip, because he doesn’t want a lot of things. John already has a house, a dog companion, enough money to last forever.

John already has everything except her.

His most happy moments couldn’t compete with the hot curl within his guts that he feels every time his mind flashes back to that night. That night when she gave in, when she gave herself away to him – willingly.

John didn’t need to give her a little push to finally get her. She practically offered herself to him, bared her neck and John’s itching to take a bite. To finally make her his once and for all, but really, he doesn’t need to do that to know that she’s his.

Like he said, he’s not going to force himself into her life. He’s going to be welcomed. By the looks of it, it seems like it wouldn’t be such a hard thing to do after all. Not when she’s already giving up information about herself to John through texts – she’s practically making it easy for him to get her.

So naive. Doesn’t got a fucking clue in the world.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Fucking mine –

John looks at his phone, reading the messages both of them sent each other the night before, and there it is again. The itch in his hands, the need to possess.

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM

Bambi: also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

John changed her name on his phone. He changed it to something more… intimate. More sweet.

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : I could never.

13.06.15 11:48 PM

John : You’re hard to forget.

He remembers – no, saw – how she responded. With a smile on her face, hopeful.

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : using my words against me, i see :D

13.06.15 11:49 PM

Bambi : good to know you’re still as slick as the last time we chatted haha

13.06.15 11:49 PM

John : Hard not to. I wanted to impress you.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : you already did.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : with all your brooding and intimidating look. just my type ;D

John smiles to himself as he reads the message. He remembers the look on her face when she’s typing, and hasn't got a clue that the man she’s flirting with was observing her just from across her building. John wouldn’t call it invading her privacy, he calls it keeping her safe.

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : anywho i asked for your number for a reason. i really do want to talk to you again. not just in chat, i mean, but also in real life :)

13.06.15 11:50 PM

Bambi : maybe we could get to know each other more? what do you say??? meet up again, but this time planned unlike our other previous meetups?? haha

He is not a teenager to be feeling this giddy over reading messages, but she truly brings out something shameful in him.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

John : I should be the one asking you that.

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : you were taking too looonggg :(

13.06.15 11:51 PM

Bambi : so what do ya think?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : Of course I’ll go. I told you I’d make time for you, didn’t I?

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : I’m a man of my word.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

Bambi : ok that’s great! i was so worried you wouldn’t say yes.

John had averted his eyes from the phone that night and onto the little lady across the building. She was rolling around on her bed, still dressed in her pink, fluffy robe and her hair was still wet. She looks like a puppy that John wanted to pet; stroke her hair and tell her she’s his good girl.

13.06.15 11:52 PM

John : When do you want to meet?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : aahhhhh let’s see

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : i have classes tomorrow morning BUTTT we can def meet up during lunch! i get out of school at like 12 and go to work at 3 :D

I know, John wanted to say. I’ve memorized your everyday schedule in the span of two days.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : How about I pick you up from your school, we grab lunch, and I drop you off to work?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

John : Or is it too soon?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : oh my god no way REALLY?

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : nooo it’s not too soon don’t worry! you def could so we have more time to talk and everything! i just hope i won’t be bothering you or anything.

13.06.15 11:53 PM

Bambi : do you have work tomorrow? you look like a 9 to 5 kinda guy :P

God, she’s fucking adorable.

13.06.15 11:54 PM

John : I don’t, so you don’t have to worry. I’d love to talk to you more as well.

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : ok! i cannot wait for tomorrow. i should probably sleep now tho so i wouldn’t look shitty when you see me :D

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : here is the address of my school. [Address]

13.06.15 11:54 PM

Bambi : can’t wait to see you tomorrow, john! goodnight, see you soon! x

13.06.15 11:55 PM

John : Goodnight, sweet girl. Have a good sleep.

John hadn’t meant to type that. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, terrified that he somehow scared her away with the sudden affection. But then he saw her read his message, dropped her phone on the bed, and then rolled over again like a lap dog.

She’s too easy to tame, so gullible. John almost couldn’t believe how fast she folded, how desperate she really is. But then again, he could say the same about himself. Lonely and desperate, they were meant to be together. He likes to believe God had put them in this position because of fate, because he has a plan for every single one of us.

John’s never been the one to believe in Him, but he finds himself grasping to that very little delusion that keeps him from going insane.

11:55 AM, the students are already making their way out of their designated buildings.

John is keeping his guard on high alert, eyes scanning the crowd to find her. He’s parked just across the school gate, leaning against his car as he checks the time on his wrist. He’s also holding his phone in the other, waiting for it to vibrate in case she drops a message.

He’s never felt this giddy before. Hands clammy and eyes searching frantically, excited because he’s finally getting to spend alone time with her, but also worried in fear of losing her in the crowd. John doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have the upper hand. When he doesn’t have control of the situation. When she’s not in his line of vision and could be doing god knows what without his supervision.

He checks his phone again. 11:58, where is she?

John knows at this time, she should be out and about already, waiting for a cab to her apartment. His fingers itch, hovering over the screen of his phone. He begins contemplating if he should send a message, but that would make him look demanding and clingy. He doesn’t want to leave that kind of impression on her, or otherwise he’d have no choice but to abduct her and keep her locked away if she thinks about running –

He blinks, sucking in deep breath.

“Shit,” he whispers, looking up to the school gate again. This isn’t good. What the fuck was he even thinking?

John tries not to think about it. Tries to convince himself that he is not as fucked up as his mind is making him out to be. He wouldn’t stoop that low, he’s not that cruel –

Are you not?

A certain someone appears in the crowd, standing outside the school gate, already spotting John and waving at him from across the road. Her face is bright, smiling wide. John never wanted to possess something so bad.

He waves back, all his dark thoughts suddenly gone, and everything is rainbows and sunshine. John watches as she crosses the road carefully, looking left and right, seeming small with the people around her. She looks like a lost puppy.

John wants to pet.

“John, hey!” she beams, running up to him to give him a hug which catches John off guard. She’s on her tiptoes just to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders, and John doesn’t want to make her upset for not immediately reacting with her affection, and so he puts his arm around her waist and bends down to place his chin on her shoulder.

He fights the urge to bury his nose in her neck, then maybe sucks a few hickeys, leaving a bite mark to show that the big, bad wolf has already marked his mate.

She’s so fucking easy to get, John thinks.

When she pulls away from the hug, John tries not to look disappointed. Her cologne lingers in his nose. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“You don’t ever need to say sorry for that,” John says, faux stern as he places a hand on her waist subtly. She looks like she doesn’t mind, that’s a good thing.

“Okay then,” she smiles politely. “Oh, and I’m sorry if I look like a mess. Just say the words and I would totally change to more appropriate clothes before we go somewhere.”

“You look beautiful,” John says smoothly, standing up straight. Even though she looks underdressed next to John who’s wearing a three-piece suit, she is still heart-wrenchingly beautiful. In fact, John likes the contrast.

“T-thanks.”

“Should we go?”

“Sure! I’m excited,” she giggles, the sound practically dancing in his ear. “I’m hungry. Where will we eat?”

“Hm, what do you like?” he asks.

“Dunno. Burger and milkshake.”

“Sounds unhealthy.”

“The only thing I can afford, unfortunately,” she jokes, though John doesn’t answer, only opening the car door for her. “We should eat in a diner. I know a good one! Also cheap, so you won’t have to worry about the price.”

“I never worry about the price, darling,” John murmurs, but still loud enough for her to hear as she gets inside the vehicle. He swiftly walks to the driver’s seat and starts the car, glancing at his little bambi who’s observing the interior intensely. “You like it?”

“It’s so cool. I’ve never been in a car like this.”

“You’re going to have a lot of firsts when you’re with me.”

As John starts driving, the girl beside him babbles. Not that he minds, of course. He listens and nods, so obsessed with her voice that he could listen to it forever. It’s amazing how John could easily hide the fact that he was just stalking her from across her apartment the night before in the back of his mind, like it never even happened. It’s amazing how he could act like he wasn’t just thinking about kidnapping her and locking her away from the public forever.

But then again, everything about his little bambi would make anyone risk it all for her. It’s not just John. Anyone would do the same if they were in his shoes.

“How was school?” John asks, averting his eyes from the road for a moment to look at her.

“Eh, it was alright. Classes always drain me, no wonder I’m so hungry now,” she answers politely. One of the few things John noticed about her. How she doesn’t run out of things to say, how she can get the conversation going. “How about you? You going to work after our lunch? You’re dressed up for it.”

“I took the day off today,” he replies vaguely.

“What? Why?”

“I have a date with you.”

She seems to be shocked by John’s choice of words, but she’s more concerned with the fact that John took the day off for her. “Y-yeah, but you didn’t have to do that. We could just go on a date next time.”

“The sooner, the better,” he explains, feeling another surge of something hot into his veins. She agreed that this is a date. Just how fucking gullible can she get? “Work is no problem for me. I want to get to know you more.”

“O-okay. I wanna get to know you more too.”

When John catches a glimpse of her bright smile beaming at him, his hands tighten around the wheel and he steps on the gas harder.

John doesn’t like how his mind isn’t making him remember about Helen.

He should be remembering her. He should feel some kind of guilt for being in a restaurant with another woman, but he doesn’t. Every single day since she died, his mind would always make him think about her. But now, it’s like John completely forgot about her existence at all.

The wedding ring on his finger is long gone. Ever since his unhealthy obsession began, he thought that wearing that while doing something so sinful felt so wrong. Helen shouldn’t have to witness all the things he had done in the name of a girl he had only met once that time.

The diner isn’t packed with people. The sizzling of the burgers grilling on the pan and the chatters seem to drown out eventually when his little bambi starts talking.

John gives her a small smile, barely there, just to show her that he’s listening, all his attention is on her.

“Time seems to pass by so fast, huh? I remember when I bumped into you the first time, I really thought I wouldn’t see you again,” she starts the conversation with a bang, but thankfully John’s prepared for this type of talk.

“So you really wanted to see me then?” he smirks slightly.

“Yeah! You’re really good looking and it’s not always I see a guy as handsome as you in my apartment complex and my school,” she says bluntly, though John could see the faint blush on her cheeks when she mentions the word ‘good looking.’ “So of course I had to take my chance when I met you again at that club! God, you were my knight in shining armor. I would’ve been crushed to death if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s why you should always be careful on the road. You’re small, everyone could look past you if you weren’t careful enough.”

She pouts, placing her chin on her hand as she stares lovingly at John. “You’re exaggerating. I’m not small. You’re just saying that because you’re too big. And I’m always careful on the road – it was only that time that I lost balance and almost fell.”

“Then it better not happen again,” John says sharply, leaning back against the cushioned seat as he stares back at her challengingly. “But there’s no need to worry for the next time. I won’t let that happen again.”

“Next time?” she teases. “So you want to see me again next time, then?”

“Have I not made it clear with my actions and words?” John shoots back, raising another eyebrow. She likes it when he’s being stern like this. All authoritative. She might not know it yet, but her body language speaks for itself. “Do you want to see me again?”

The little bambi smiles brightly, and It hurts. It hurts John to see that smile because she’s just like the sun. But no matter how much she shines, John would do anything just to touch. Just to possess. Just to break.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have gotten your number if I didn’t, right?”

“Good.”

It’s not like she could do much anyways if she says no. Nothing will ever stop John from seeing her again, no matter how bad the procedure would be.

The food then arrives and is served on the table, and John thinks he has never felt anything like this before.

His hands have never felt this itchy before. That desperate, longing feeling to just possess the very thing that’s placed right in front of you. Everything about her is just so captivating, staring up at John like he’s the one who hung the moon, so full of adoration and hope.

Seems like John isn’t the only desperate one between the two of them. He could see it in her eyes. She’s practically begging him to take care of her.

And really, he can’t blame her.

An absent mother and an alcoholic father. No wonder she’s seeking attention from a man like John. A man old enough to be her father – if not older than her own father. John would be more than willing to fulfill the role her father failed to be when she was young. He’d do anything to protect her, morals be damned.

She looks too good to be true sitting right in front of him and he didn’t think watching someone devour a burger twice as big as her face would be so endearing. The way she licks her lips, the way her eyes sparkle every time John would pay attention to the little things she’d absentmindedly insert in her stories. No one must’ve given her this kind of attention before. No one but John.

“Oh, before I forget!” She places a hand on John’s arm that’s perched on the table. A mere innocent touch, yet he can’t help but feel a little giddy on the inside. “We’ve been talking for like, an hour now, and I still haven’t asked what your job is. I’ve been really curious ever since you told me you took a day off just for this. Are you like the boss or something?”

Ah. Of course.

A question like this is inevitable, thank god John came prepared.

“No,” he simply says. “I’m a book binder. I collect and restore books as both a hobby and job.”

“Wow,” she nods her head, now interested as she leans forward and closer to him. She smells so sweet, John feels like he’s snorting sugar. “I didn’t think book binding could earn you so much money. Considering you’re dressed pretty… comfortably. And you have a nice car.”

“It pays enough,” John replies. Sooner or later she’d find out what he really does for a living, and no doubt she’d be scared. John already has a plan of action for when that would happen, but for now, he’ll try to keep it a secret as long as he can. “Pays enough to let me spoil you in the future. In fact, I think I might just start spoiling you now.”

“You say that to every woman you meet?” She quirks an eyebrow, teasing.

“Just for you. You’re special.”

John sees the way she immediately turns shy and nervous from the statement. It must’ve felt overwhelming, having someone so much older and with more experience to hit on her like that. But John would say it brings a whole different feeling in him, like ego-lifting of some sort, knowing he just might be the only man that treated her right in her life.

Does killing one of her guy friends and storing him in his basement means treating her right? Does stalking her and watching her sleep from across the building is a way to treat her right? Different story to be told for another day.

“I believe you,” she says, smiling.

Of course you do.

John diverts her attention from him. “You’re a veterinary student and also part time in a veterinary clinic. What made you want to pursue it?”

“Uh, let’s see. I don’t really have like, a very logical reason for it. I just really love animals and I want them to be part of my job as well,” she shrugs. “As for the part time thing, one of my older friends works there and got me in to gain some experience. I don’t really do much, I help with the paperworks and watch how they do stuff around there.”

I know.

“Your unconditional love for animals is logical enough.”

“I know right. Best job in the world, I might add. I get to pet all kinds of different animals everyday, and mind you I’m not even a real doctor yet,” she giggles, then tilts her head in curiosity. “Do you have a pet, John?”

“I do. I have a dog,” he answers, taking a sip of his own milkshake. It’s sweet, it’s something he’s not used to, but it reminds him of her. “Unfortunately, I haven’t named her yet.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“I don’t know how to. I’m not good with names,” John shrugs. This conversation with her alone just might be the longest conversation he’s ever shared with someone ever since Helen died. And even with his late wife, he wasn’t as talkative as this. “Maybe you could name her. She’s a large pitbull but surprisingly very gentle for her size.”

“Oh my god, John, I have to meet her!” She beams. “Maybe on our next date, don’t you think? Let’s bring her with us to the park, have a little picnic there or something.”

Next date.

She wants to go on another date with him and she is making this a lot easier for John.

His lips stretch into a rare smile, fingers twitching subtly around the glass as he stares right into her eyes. There’s no hidden intention behind them, just pure adoration with a twinge of hope. Probably hopes that John wants the same thing as her, but he wouldn’t let her know that she is in for a lot more than she bargained for.

“I can’t wait for our next one.”

John could still remember the little things that made him feel human.

Back in the Marines, when he first killed somebody, he felt a tremendous amount of guilt and self-hating that he couldn’t sleep for a week. He’d have nightmares of it; of holding his gun up to somebody’s head and blowing it up with just one single movement. The residue of the flesh splattered all over his face, some of them even went to his mouth. His hands shaked but he didn’t let his crew see it. In their eyes, that wasn’t the first time he had done it.

When he was recruited by Viggo and his little minions, the guilt of killing people was still there, but barely. He used to wish he didn’t feel any guilt or remorse at all every time he pulled a trigger, but looking back at it now, he wishes he could just take it all back. It was only guilt that he felt most of his life, but it made John human.

Now, he doesn’t feel very human as he stands in the middle of an abattoir holding a machete with pints of blood pooling at his shoes.

Back then, he used to kill. Point, shoot, leave. A very short routine he told himself to stick with unless he wanted to get in trouble. But now, he is not only just killing. John is fucking slaughtering people.

His eyes land on the dead body hanging from the meat hook. Naked, gutted alive just a few moments ago. His stomach is sliced open with his own intestines wrapped around his neck, and it fucking stinks.

The raw stench of human blood mixing with the already reeking smell of the slaughtered pigs hanging just besides the one John had slaughtered himself.

Really, John should feel even just a little amount of remorse or disgust. His client didn’t particularly gave him a specific order on how to fucking kill the target, John did it himself. He didn’t know what the fuck was he thinking when he was doing the wet work, all he knows is that he’s getting worse each day that passes.

The killing part took some time considering the man certainly put up a fight. He was smuggling drugs inside the pigs he was slaughtering. It works on people too, though it’s too risky. Dying with balloons of cocaine up your throat or ass isn’t exactly the way you’d want to die, nor the kind of state you want your body to be in.

John really didn’t mean to go this far, but all the pent up anger and frustration led him to do something so ugly. He feels like a ticking bomb. Every second a little part of humanity just starts fading away, who knows what would happen if all of it were gone.

This is his first kill since his date with his bambi. That was five days ago. John decided to take another job while he’s waiting for her next decision. He doesn’t want to look clingy and creepy by constantly texting her every chance he gets, so he lets her do it in her own phase. Though, waiting for her texts sure did take a lot of rampant rage on John’s side. Lots of broken furniture and a creepy amount of hours watching her sleep from across the building.

Just because John is letting her do her own thing for the meantime, doesn’t mean he gets to take his eyes off of her. It’s for the best.

Their last conversation was yesterday. It was a pretty long conversation, but not long enough for John’s satisfaction. She left it off by saying she’s going to be busy studying for her test and cleaning her apartment, which John didn’t have the time to check if she was telling the truth since he was busy himself.

John is dying to see her again but he knows he’s gonna have to wait it out in the Continental. Or maybe if he’s feeling a little bit insane, he’d ditch having to rest and spend his time sitting on a dusty chair in the same dusty room he’s been staying in for awhile; the building across from her apartment. But until then he’ll have to see where time will take him.

His phone ringing in his jacket is what snaps him from his thoughts. Bringing a bloodied hand to get it, he almost couldn’t press the screen by the slippery liquid covering his fingers. John presses the phone to his ear, waiting for the person to speak.

“Hey, boss. How’s Russia treating you so far? Hopefully not great ‘cause I’ve got some news that will cheer you up.” The deep voice of Alex echoes in the abattoir. It must’ve slipped John’s mind that he had sent Alex again to tail her again while he’s out overseas.

He furrows his brows, curious. “How is she?”

“Hm, let’s see here. Your little pet has been up and about all day with her little friends after they’ve finally noticed the disappearance of that little shit we took care of a while back – speaking of which, how is he by the way?”

“Rotting. Dissolving in my basement,” John replies, hands tightening around the handle of the machete. So this is what she’s been doing and the reason why she hasn’t messaged him all day. “I say the fucker got what he deserved. He’s a creep who preys on women to rape, I’m just thankful we got him out of the way before he got to her.”

“Yeah, well. She doesn’t know that and I doubt she’d even stop looking for her creepy friend unless they’ve found him. What do you want me to do?”

“Give it a day or two. Wait for me to get back and I’ll take it from there.”

“Anything else?” John hears loud chattering in the background, he furrows his brows.

“Yeah. Where are you right now?”

“Uhh, keeping her in my sight like you told me to?” Alex sounds particularly sassy. John doesn’t know if he should be pleased or not. “She’s at a restaurant. I think she’s having a meeting with her other friends or something – she looks upset.”

“Upset because of her missing friend, I assume.”

“Probably. Have you talked to her at all today, boss? Pretty sure I have not yet seen her pick up her phone all day.”

“No,” John simply says. “But she will. I’m sure of it.”

“I see you’ve finally gotten her dependent on you now.”

“Not enough, apparently, since she’s gone a full day without talking to me.”

“Well, you’re definitely getting there,” Alex says under his breath. “I’m going now, boss. They’re leaving to god knows where.”

John doesn’t say anything else, only ending the call and pocketing back his phone. He looks around the area, the coppery smell of blood is stronger than before. He is the reason why it stinks in here, the reason why there’s so much blood and brutality. The body that hangs right in front of him is lifelessly staring with dead, cold eyes. John resists the urge to shove a balloon of fucking cocaine into his stomach, the same thing he’s been doing with these pigs, brutalize him more if that’s even possible, but he knows it wouldn’t help his already worsening mentality.

The thought of someone seeing this body and thinking about how fucked up the person who did this doesn’t concern him as much as it should.

Instead, John turns his heels and walks away from the scene.

Unsurprisingly, getting her to depend on John isn’t the hardest task to do.

It just might be the easiest.

The moment John arrives at the Continental, he takes his time to message his bambi. It’s only reasonable, he wouldn’t come out as a clingy creep since it’s been a full day since his last message, he has every right to know what and how she’s doing despite already getting enough pictures and updates from Alex.

He asks her how she’s been, waits for approximately ten minutes before he finally gets a reply. In those ten minutes, John takes his time scrolling through the pictures Alex had sent him. Pictures of her bundled up in large, colorful sweaters and wearing a frown on her pretty face. She looks rough, but she makes looking rough look good.

Bambi : hi, john :(( sorry i didn’t text you all day. was busy with something

John : That’s alright, I understand. I’m just glad you replied. Did something come up? Was it about school?

Bambi : kind of. my friend from school is missing and we don’t know where he is. we’re worried because he hasn’t answered any of our calls for a week and his apartment is practically empty.

Reading that almost makes him resist an urge to sickly smile to himself. His fingers hover the screen, careful of what his next words might be.

John : I’m sorry to hear that. Have you gotten any updates from the police? What did they say?

Bambi : nothing yet unfortunately. no one saw him the night he went missing :(

John : I’m sure you’ll find him soon enough. I hope nothing extremely bad happened to your friend.

He sounds… manipulating. There aren’t any more words that could describe what John is doing to her. He doesn’t even know if he can still make up excuses to tell himself that everything is completely fine and normal.

The girl that he likes is currently sharing about the horrifying tragedy her ‘friend’ is facing, the horrifying tragedy being John’s fault, and he’s fucking lying about it. And what truly terrifies him the most is not about the fact that he’s manipulating her, he’s terrified because it feels normal and just… fine.

Normal, normal, normal–

Can John really win her over by going this path? If not, would it really matter?

He will still have the upper hand if this doesn’t end well. But then again, there’s a very small chance that it wouldn’t – if not none at all. John just needs to play his cards well and there wouldn’t be a problem.

Bambi : thank you john. really hope that too. it doesn’t feel the same without him

John’s jaw ticks.

What do you mean it doesn’t feel the same without that fucker? I killed him for you! He was a creep who only wanted to fuck you and take you away from me and–

A dangerous feeling suddenly surge into his veins that he wants to put back together all the pieces of that fucker just to destroy it in his hands once again.

Maybe mutilating him and dissolving him in pure acid just isn’t enough. Maybe he deserved more. Maybe John should’ve took his fucking time torturing that little shit instead of killing him instantly.

John : And how are you? I hope you’re not too worried about this matter that you start to forget about taking care of yourself.

Bambi : i’m doing fine, but a bit sad bc of it. i also miss you and i wish u’re here so i wouldn’t be too sad

And just like that, it’s like all his resentment and rage just one minute prior vanished in a snap of a finger. A small smile makes its way to his face and a surge of ego soars into his chest. She has no idea she’s got a dangerous assassin wrapped around her finger and the consequences it’d bring her.

Bambi : are u still overseas? when will you be back?

John : Tomorrow, hopefully.

John : And I miss you too, sweetheart. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I finish work.

Bambi : can’t wait to see you. do u want me to pick u up at the airport? :D

John : Thank you, baby, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want to keep you busy when you already have too much in your hands.

Bambi : mkay. but call me or text me when u arrive, ok?

John : Of course.

John is not stupid.

If he ever noticed a man following his every step, he didn’t once care or say a word.

It’s one of Winston’s men, obviously, following him around throughout his business in Russia up to boarding the same plane as him back to New York. Considering John had managed to catch on pretty quickly at the fact that Winston sent someone to trail him, this poor guy is not doing a particularly good job.

At first, John thought about taking care of the guy himself and bringing Winston a souvenir of his dog’s fingers or even one of his eyeballs, but decided that he is not that cruel.

He could be, but knowing he holds all the power over several people under The Table makes John wants to play the game a little longer and just fucking shiver in excitement.

Obviously Winston had noticed that John is up to no good. Not that it’s any of his business, he’s more likely just scared for his own life. He’s probably thinking it was a bad idea to bring John back into the game now that he’s living up to the horrors of his reputation and giving people exactly what they wanted.

When John first returned to the field, it was only to avenge his late wife and nothing more. But now that a bigger monster has grown within him over the course of his stay, he’s now also looking for the fuel to his fire.

And boy did he find it.

The fuel being in the form of a young woman who’s unaware of how much power she has over John. It’s only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose.

10:56 PM.

“Hello.”

“Hello? John?”

“It’s me, darling. How are you?”

“Doing fine. Studying for my exam and all. Why are you calling at this hour, though?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I just arrived back in New York and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, John, it’s so late. I was thinking earlier that you would arrive tomorrow morning or afternoon, you didn’t tell me you boarded a flight.”

“I wanted to be back as soon as possible and wanted to surprise you, but my flight got delayed so I only just arrived now.”

A soft laugh rings in his ear.

“You’re so cheeky. We can just meet up tomorrow if you’d like, go on a picnic at a park or something. I really, really wanna meet your dog.”

John hears a sigh, then the sound of paper rustling in the background. He counts – one, two, three – here it comes.

“I miss you, John.”

He pushes the curtain aside with two fingers, peering his eyes in the small opening as he watches the figure at the other side of the building. She’s sitting on her study desk in front of a laptop, freshly showered and wearing specs that John can’t help his heart to ache.

It’s been so long.

“I miss you too, sweetheart. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I was away.”

“That’s very sweet. I hope you brought souvenirs for me, though, or otherwise I will be very sad.”

“How can I forget? I bought everything that reminded me of you when I was there.”

“Now you’re just spoiling me.” Another laugh, then John sees her getting up from the chair and laying on the bed. “I’m happy that I’d get to see you again tomorrow, John. Everything that’s been happening is just so… I don’t know. Stressful, I guess. From my friend missing and school work, I don’t even know where to start. I just wanna be with you again.”

The mention of her friend Jay ticks him the wrong way, but he can’t also help but notice the longing and desperation laced in her voice as she said the last part. John knows it wouldn’t be too hard for her to be dependent on him, he just didn’t expect it to be this easy. They’ve only met once in real life, but their constant texting and calling through the phone makes it up for it.

“Don’t let yourself worry too much on matters that don’t concern you.”

Silence, then John watches her bite her nail anxiously. “What do you mean by that, John?”

He doesn’t particularly like the way his name just rolls off her tongue like that – like she’s his age, the same way Helen used to call him. He doesn’t want to be reminded of Helen when he’s with his little bambi, it just makes him feel even shittier with the situation. It sorta reminds John how much he truly changed when he lost Helen.

“Don’t worry about your friend too much. I know it’s hard that he’s missing, but don’t put him first before your own well being,” John advises, manipulation just dripping off his tongue like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He doubts she would notice, though. “I’m sure the police got it covered by now. I’m more worried about you.”

John could still see her expression through the window despite being far away. She’s thinking about it, letting herself get swayed by his lies and persuasion. She’s too easy, she just doesn’t know it herself, but John does. And he’s going to take advantage of it as much as he can.

He counts again – one, two, three – and she’s dropping her hand to the bed and sighing softly. There she is.

“Okay. You’re probably right, I worry too much.”

John doesn’t reply but gives a silent hum that indicates he’s agreeing. He sees her taking off her glasses and putting it on the bedside table, suddenly the itch in his hands is back.

There’s a voice nagging at the back of his head and asking him just what the fuck is he doing, that he should stop this madness before it gets out of hand, but would that really make a difference? Even if John did stop, he’d still continue to live with the fact that he was a monster who stalked a young woman out of sheer obsession. He’d already got her dependent on him, he’d already laid out the plan on how this would turn out, why is he suddenly questioning now?

He had done stuff that was worse than manipulating. He didn’t feel a single drop of empathy when he was slaughtering people and shooting them in the head, but why does he feel guilty manipulating her?

“John? Did you already fall asleep on me?”

Soft voice snaps him out of his thoughts, then it’s followed by a soft giggle. John feels butterflies exploding in his stomach.

“Sorry. I was just–”

“It’s okay, John, you can sleep. You’ve probably had a long day since you’ve been on a flight and everything. I’m going to sleep now too, we have a date tomorrow, remember? Don’t forget.” The faux strictness in her voice makes him smile, then he sees her smiling just as big through the window; giddy and excited. “Goodnight, John. It’s really nice talking to you again. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, smiling to herself before putting the phone back to her nightstand. She settles on the bed comfortably, tucking herself into her blanket, unaware of the fact that there’s a monster lurking on the other building, watching her every move like a hawk.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the old mirror on the dusty wall, dressed in black and predatory, reminiscent of the devil himself.

Might as well live up to the name.

John is aware of how dead he looks in people’s eyes. He barely smiles, he’s always dressed in black, and he always has trouble showing emotions through his face. He makes sure that he gives off that aura that shows how much he dislikes everyone in the fucking room. How much he just wants to pull out his gun and shoot every single one of them in the head.

John despises the way they look at him. Like they pity him for losing his wife, for getting dragged back to the life he had already left. Though, he can’t really blame them, really. He used to pity himself too, even now for letting himself get even worse, but he wouldn’t really call it pity. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s not pity.

The next day is interesting, to say the least.

He couldn’t get a minute of sleep the night before, the image of her sleeping so peacefully without a worry in the world bored into his mind. It’s extremely fascinating to him just how careless and… dumb she is. Dumb in a way that it’s benifiting John – the both of them, actually – and not in an offensive kind of way.

It was around two in the morning when he returned back to the hotel, managed to sleep for an hour or two before ripping off the blankets and had a drink the first thing in the morning. John didn’t bother taking a nap after that, just walking around the room making sure all is well and everything will be according to plan.

At 8 AM, she texted John a good morning and said it would be better for their date to be at 4 PM. John then replied that it was perfect, though he doubts he can wait that long.

12 PM, for a man as calm and collected as John, he sure as hell can’t fucking sit still in one place.

He’s paranoid. No amount of texts from his bambi is enough to keep him calm. The time is ticking too slowly for his liking and he has no other things to do in his free time. Except be paranoid.

John grabs his coat, kisses his dog goodbye and decides to stop by a grocery store to prepare for their date. He should at least make them both a sandwich and buy drinks, knowing that the little gesture would be enough to put a smile on her face.

1 PM, John comes back with shit ton of paper bags in his arms. He’s doing too much, he knows it, but too much is still better than not enough.

John goes to the kitchen to prepare. The orphanage taught him how to cook – well, not really. John taught himself how to cook, because if he’s not going to cook for himself and half of the kids back in Ruska, they’d all be dead with no survival instincts to save them from starvation. Being an assassin who could withstand any form of torture all while not knowing how to cook would be the greatest joke of the century. John’s not the one to be laughed out.

2 PM, everything is settled and in place, his little bambi texts him to let him know that she’s getting ready and cannot wait for their date. John then takes his time to get ready too.

3 PM, John is dressed in a nice white t-shirt with a brown leather jacket on top. He looks civilised, no one would know a damn thing that he’s one of the most feared men in the underworld who slaughters people for a living.

His dog is quiet in the corner, chewing on her bone toy until John puts a collar and leash around her neck. Her eyes perks up in excitement, already knowing they would go outside to play. John always takes his time making sure she gets to socialize with other dogs, whether it’s in a park or just down the street.

“You’re excited, baby?” John murmurs, petting her ears softly as he kneels down to her position. “You’re gonna meet someone special. Want you to be nice to her, alright? She’s gonna be your mom.”

John hauls everything into his car in a matter of minutes. The picnic basket, the blanket, his gifts for his little one that he got from Russia, also including his dog. She’s behaved yet excited as she peeks in the mirror watching her owner work.

He slides into the driver’s seat and locks his seatbelt, starting up the car and driving away from the hotel. Earlier, John had seen a couple of his co-workers loading up his trunk dressed like he’s going on a date – because he is – no doubt they’re snitching and would tell Winston. He couldn’t care less.

He arrives outside her apartment after thirty minutes, parking his car right by the entrance. He can’t help but grimace as he looks around the place. He remembers meeting her here, the day after he killed that good-for-nothing junkie. He wonders if she ever got the news, how she reacted when someone got killed the same day John was visiting her area.

It won’t be long before she wouldn’t be living in this area no more. It’s too dangerous, filled with a bunch of goons who get themselves tangled up in petty gang wars. John knows a gangster when he sees one, and it looks like every single man who lives in these crowded apartments are either pushers or gangsters with no sense of direction in life.

She doesn’t belong here. She should be in John’s house, locked up and isolated where she’s safe under his supervision. He would treat her like a princess, give her the things she deserve.

John gets out of the car, pulls out his phone and sends her a message to let her know he’s outside her building. He leans against the car as he waits.

A minute passes and a very happy bambi appears in the elevator, dressed in a pretty sundress and a white tote bag with a text John can’t see. She’s beaming up at him as she exits the building, and John hasn’t got the time to react before she’s lunging herself forward and going on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Whoa easy,” John murmurs, immediately wrapping his arms around her waist for support, placing his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent; it’s sweet, not a surprise. “You miss me that much?”

“So much, you don’t even wanna know,” she murmurs in his chest, not quite reaching his neck despite being on her tiptoes. “I hope you miss me just as much.”

John pulls away, gives her a look as he places her large hands on her hips. “I might’ve missed you more than you missed me.”

She giggles, John could see her eyes through the heart-shaped sunglasses she’s wearing. It’s cute. “That’s not possible, I will fight you for it.”

“Hm,” John hums, eyes wandering down her lips to her dress. It stops just above her knees, John has to mentally prepare himself for the worst. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says sheepishly. “You like it? I think it’s the perfect picnic outfit.”

“I love it,” John clarifies. “Looks perfect on you.”

“You look gorgeous yourself,” she giggles, eyeing John up and down teasingly, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. He isn’t so sure how to react to that, hopefully his dick wouldn’t take the liberty to rise from the dead at this moment. “This is the first time I’ve seen you not wearing any suits. Domestic looks good on you.”

“What can I say, I’m a changed man.” John means both good and bad. “And before we go, I want to introduce you to someone.”

Before she gets a chance to ask, John slides out of the way from his position of covering the car window and reveals a very happy pitbull waiting to be introduced to her mother.

Her smile is wide when she spots John’s pet excitedly wagging her tail inside the car. “Oh my god, she is beautiful! John, open the door, hurry, hurry, hurry–”

“Okay, okay–”

The moment John pulls the door open, the dog comes rushing out to jump and starts licking her face.

“Oh, lookie here, baby! You’re such a cutie! What’s your name, hm? Don’t got a name yet? Your dad can’t think of a name to give ya’?”

Her giggles are like music to his ears.

The sound of paws pattering on the concrete and her high pitched voice talking to the dog fills the empty street in a matter of seconds. When she isn’t looking, John begins looking around the area, his eyes landing on the apartment building where he preys at some nights.

There’s a person at the front desk, staring at him like he knows something, and like a switch that goes off in his brain, John recognizes this man as the same one who bumped into him a few nights ago in the hallway in front of the abandoned room where he’s staying.

They meet eyes, John flashes him a knowing look, then the man immediately looks away.

John’s jaw ticks. He’s gonna have to deal with that later.

He turns his attention back to where it’s most needed. She’s still playing with the dog, crouching beside the car while the puppy just drowns in her affection. John really hates to break the moment.

“Shall we get going?” He interjects, voice deeper than usual, still feeling a little on the edge from that man by the front desk earlier.

“Sure. She gonna be in the backseat?”

“You bet.”

John opens the door for the both of them and lets her help the puppy get inside. Before he slams the door close, he makes sure to take another look at the apartment, seeing the man already staring back at him.

Yeah. He’s really gonna have to deal with that later.

They arrive at the park around 4:25 and John is the one to set up their spot while she and the puppy play in the empty field. It’s empty, totally empty, and John couldn’t be more thankful than that since he really doesn’t want to be around other people besides her. She’s the only one that matters.

John notices that she brought her own dog toys, probably the ones she keeps to herself since she does work in a vet clinic after all. The sight of her happily running around the grass with his dog is enough to bring him to his knees, he is only but a man.

John calls her to eat and the two of them come running towards him and plops down on the soft blanket next to the basket full of fruits.

“Had fun?” John speaks, sitting beside her on the ground as he watches her get a plate of pasta for the two of them. She insists she gets to plate their food, John lets her.

“Very. Didn’t know she’s quite energetic, luckily for her I can match her energy extremely well.”

“It comes with being young, I guess. Can’t really relate,” he jokes, receiving the plate full of pasta she gives him while she snickers at the statement.

“Come on, John. You’re still fit despite being old.” John watches her take a bite of the food. He’s not subtle, he’s straight up staring at her lips as she wraps her mouth around the fork, savoring the flavor with closed eyes. “Hm, this is delicious. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“By myself,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his food to keep him from taking a bite of her instead. “I’m surprised you aren’t creeped out.”

“With what?”

“With my age,” John makes it clear. “You’re young with a bright future ahead of you–”

“Yet here I am having a date with an old man?” she interjects, wiggles her eyebrows, teasing clearly with the way she emphasizes the last part. “I can’t believe you thought I’m gonna get creeped out. You’re a grown man with a stable job and not to mention very hot, I find that very sexy.”

“You think I’m sexy?” he raises a brow.

“Yes, I think you’re very sexy. I haven’t once encountered a guy my age who has the same status as you,” she sets down the plate on her lap for a moment. “You know, experienced and mature.”

“I see,” John nods. It’s very clear that she’s always found the people who contrast her so well attractive. She wants a savior that would save her from everything, luckily John fits in the description quite too well.

They delve in a normal conversation after that. John makes sure to steer away all questions regarding him and his life, a way to learn more about her other than the pictures and videos and information he’d been sent by Alex.

John already knows a lot about her, it wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more.

Ten minutes go by, a bottle of wine has been pulled out of the basket and she’s spilling her whole life to John in a matter of moments. From lttle memories from childhood to how she moved from her hometown to New York to get away from her father. How when she was younger, she begged her toys to talk to her and she wouldn’t tell anyone. How their family pet back in the days impacted the choices she made to choose her career path – to become a veterinarian.

John listens. He’s always been good at listening instead of talking, so he listens.

5 PM, the two of them play with the dog and she decides to name her “Blue.”

“Is it because she has blue eyes?” John asks.

“Yeah. Not really original, I know, but it fits her.”

“Blue is perfect.”

It’s already 6 PM when they decide to head home. She’s still talking the moment they’re in the car and John is still listening. There’s something about her voice that just… pulls him in. It’s so sweet and soft.

When they arrive outside her apartment complex, it’s dead silent.

“I really enjoyed our date today, John,” she smiles when he opens the door for her, now standing in front of him and looking up to meet his eyes. “The pasta was delicious. I hope I get to eat more of them in the future – and oh, I really, really enjoyed playing with Blue! I’m so thankful that you let me name her even though it wasn’t really special–”

“Hush,” John jokingly interrupts. “The night might be over, but I can assure you that I will see you soon again.”

“How soon would that be again?”

“Eager to see me already?”

“Maybe.”

“You know I always make time for you, sweetheart,” John croons, placing a large hand on her chin and staring deeply into her eyes. “Is it too early for me to kiss you?”

She laughs, then wraps her arms around his waist to pull him in closer. John looks at her and falls in love for what to be a millionth time today. She never fails to take his breath away. “Not too early, I promise you. You should’ve done that sooner.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it now.”

Before she can add another word, John leans down to smash his lips against hers, his large hand finding its way on the small of her back to deepen the kiss that she can’t help but whimper into his mouth.

Fuck.

Her lips are so, so soft. John can still taste the lingering sweetness of the wine from earlier and being so close to her that her scent is shutting off his entire brain. If he won’t stop, he might just end up fucking her on the hood of his car until she can’t walk straight.

Their lips move in tandem and she’s following his head like she always does. Her small hands are gripping his leather jacket for support, so pliant and vulnerable, already trusting him enough to kiss him on their second date.

This is a sudden shift in his universe, John knows he’s already won.

He’s the first to pull away and their lips are wet and connected with saliva. She’s flushed and out of breath like expected, John wants nothing more but to break her and make her his.

Oh wait, she already is.

“How was that?” John asks, voice deep.

“I wanna do it again.”

He chuckles, rubbing his thumb on her cheeks while she’s busy avoiding his eyes. “Let’s save it for next time.”

He’s gonna control himself.

“That next time better come by fast,” she threatens jokingly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Don’t talk like you’re not gonna see me for days, baby,” John whispers. “You know I won’t let you go that easily. You’re mine now.”

He doesn’t miss the way her pupils dilated and the way the clutch she has on his leather jackets becomes tighter. She’s already fallen deep into his trap, John wants to push his claws in even deeper.

“Say it again,” she mutters, leaning in against his warm large hand as she closes her eyes. “Say it again. Please.”

John smiles when she isn’t looking. He really won.

“You’re mine.”

That same night, 4 AM, John is back in his work clothes and arranging something in a dark room.

The stench of metallic blood hitting his nose, and he stands in the middle of the room to inhale that scent – god, does he truly miss it.

The sight of a man in front of him wakes something dangerous within John’s veins. Hands tied up behind the chair, head dropped forward, lifeless and cold. His lower stomach is open, guts hanging off the floor as the other half is used to gag him in the mouth. His eyes are missing, John took the liberty to take them out for staring at him too much, and he couldn’t be any more relieved when he did.

“What do you know?” John had asked as soon as the man woke up from his head concussion.

“Y-You!” The man had yelled, John didn’t bother finding out his name. “You fucking creep –”

John’s hands twitched beside him. He remained silent.

The man went on a rant about how he’d seen John around lurking outside the apartment complex and using the abandoned room on the fifth floor and that’s all John needed to know.

He didn’t need another pair of eyes to tell him what’s right and wrong. Winston is already enough.

The next morning, John receives a text from none other than his bambi. A picture of numerous police cars outside her apartment and an ambulance, and another picture of a dead body covered in white blanket getting pulled out of the building.

Bambi : there was an accident that happened near me, john :((

Bambi : the police said somebody was killed and i’m scared

Bambi : they said he was gutted alive

John is smiling to himself when he types his response.

John : What kind of a sick person would do something like that?

He is not a sick person. He’s just in love.

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