#they’re older than their stepdad

[bosesmikas]

I just realized that Kourtney, who’s 44, is a year older than Corey (43). And Corey is dating Kourt’s mom, Kris, who’s like in her 60s. AND Kim is ALSO 43, the same age as her stepdad.

[yojeongin]

playing dangerous | k.dy

→bff’s stepdad!doyoung x f!reader

genre: smut, semi-angst, some fluff, forbidden affair, semi-character study

synopsis: summers are meant to be spent having fun with your best friend not fooling around with her step father.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! cheating, age gap (not focused between mcs), yearning, power imbalance, massive frued psychosexual theory undertones (that old man won), morally grey characters, alluding to cycle of predation and abuse of power, manipulation, lowkey ageism, doyoung heavy mommy issues (worrying actually), oral (m receiving), cum kiss, fingering, foot play, unprotected sex, creampie, voyeurism.

wc: 15.8k || anthology masterlist || soundtrack || ao3

© 2025 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

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

an: sorry this took longer than expected, im 3hrs late oops. the corporate lifestyle has been kicking my ass so bad (im so fucking miserable) and i wasn't satisfied with what i was going to post last week anyway so hope this is better (hope).

“Are you sure that’s your step dad and not step brother?”

Disbelief was too soft of a word for what you truly thought. When your friend had given you notice that her mother had married her boyfriend of two years (news to you), you had expected the man to be decrepit and gray haired. Not someone not too much older than what you were. 

Earlier you had confused him with one of the movers who helped bring in your friend’s and her mother’s items into the new home. You went as far as shooting him a flirty smile while making way to your friend who sat peacefully on the porch swing with a glass of cold lemonade to aid her from this horrid summer heat. 

“Yeah…“ she whines, throwing her head back enough to hit herself a tad with the backrest. “He makes her happy. As long as he does, I don’t care how old he is.” She felt judged by your constant questioning. As if she was the one marrying the man. As if she was living through her mother and her decisions to wed someone significantly younger than her. You were the last person she wanted to feel judged by, however could they truly blame your incessant curiosity and shock? Specifically when you never knew her mother was dating. What kind of best friend are you to not be as close as you believed?

Meghan wasn’t the youngest, the woman was sixty and this man looked to be in his late twenties. How could they blame you for your curiosity? 

“So how old is he?” You shift beside her, the swing rocking with every move. “He turned thirty in February. She hasn’t had a partner since I can remember, this is good for her.” Her words attempt to convince her more than you, emphasized by the harsh desperate slurping within the empty glass.

Your friend turned 25 in February too.

“Oh wow, so since he was a kid too?” You joke. It doesn’t land.

“Y/n!” She hits your arm, you laugh in return. “What?!” You whine through laughs, this time purposely rocking the swing. “Come on…” It aches like nails on a chalkboard if she thinks about it. Meghan is her mother, she could easily be Doyoung’s mother as well. She knew Doyoung's mother.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She sighs, hands and glass on her lap. “Yes, the age gap is insane but… they’re old enough.” Your friend frowns, another attempt to convince herself and failing miserably.

Raising your hands in defeat, she smiles, continuing her playful acts of harm. “Want a glass?” She offers, you decline, your mind stuck on the beautiful man standing roughly a few feet away from where you two sat. Your head struggles to not turn his way and gawk like you’ve done earlier. It's difficult, you'll find throughout these months.

You knew you shouldn’t be fawning the way you are. After all, he is now Meghan’s husband. Meghan who has treated you like her own child since Pre-K. But God, you couldn’t help admire the way sweat rolled down his face and the way he wiped it away with the back of his delicate hands. 

At this moment, you’re not too bitter about your summer plans being halted. Not when he’s noticed your covetous glances and sly grins. Perhaps that's what started it all. Your restraint, pulling him step by step to where you sat. Sweat adorning his face and forcing his hair to frame his beautiful features, glistening in this sun.

A tender smile to the public eye but a reciprocative grin to you, “Welcome girls.” He smiles, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up from the airport.” He turns halfway to look at the movers entering the home. “Duty calls.”

He was cliche with his words, yet smooth enough to make your grin widen. Like a white collar in those vintage Hollywood movies. His voice, softer than imagined. He drew you in the same way you drew him. It was bound to happen.

Tina shook her head, a dismissive and polite smile. She covers her eyes from the sun which did not ambush either. Rather, it was a futile attempt to shield her emotions, easily projected onto her eyes. It’s not resentment she felt towards him. Discomfort and confusion for his decisions is.

Doyoung looks at you briefly, as if to say “I suppose we are not there yet?”, answered by your own polite smile. He dismissed it immediately, shaking his head with a slight chuckle which forced Tina to uncover her eyes, confused.

“Will you be a dear and get me a drink?” He asks when their eyes finally meet. If it means that he won’t read her any longer, Tina nods standing up. She’s out of the picture faster than he had asked without a care that Doyoung took her spot next to you. 

Doyoung smiles your way, his knee bumping into yours while he settles. You return the smile, looking at the contact. Your legs criss-crossed on the swing and his rocking you both. It’s silent besides the movers and Meghan’s music inside the home. Nevertheless, this feels comfortable, scarily so for a first-time meeting.

“I’m sorry for being the reason you two had to cancel your trip.” Doyoung leans over, elbows on his thighs. His back is on full display, wet shirt clinging to the wide muscles that force your lower lip in between your upper teeth.

Your eyes don’t unglue from him, chills running across your body for such a warm day. You sigh, following a streak and bead of sweat from his temple down to his neck. “It's fine, we didn't want to walk around for hours and see old buildings.” You reassure sarcastically, although the tone deadpans.

“No? But Italy is very beauteous. Meghan recounted, you two had been planning on it as an incentive to get through grad school. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Doyoung did not expect to be met with laughter. He was soft spoken, tender, genuinely sorrowful, and a welcoming host. Why must you laugh at him? He’s not too sure.

His quizzical look does not subside, “I was joking, Mr. Kim.” You giggle, wiping at your threatening tears. His eyebrows furrow, yet, folds his handkerchief to a clean corner, doing the task for you. He's so close. So comfortable with being this near to a complete stranger.

“You’re narrowly five years younger than I. Please don't call me that.” He defends petulantly, forgetting about what brought you both to this topic. It sounds insane and dumb to be called that as if he was his father or an old man, he was only thirty.

It is insane and so is marrying a woman who was his current age when he was born.

You hum a response, turning away from him with a slow nod. “Do you always talk like that?” Your voice lures him again, craning his head to look at you. “Like you’re a pretentious liberal arts professor.” It’s lighthearted and mocking at the same time. Your smile slowly forms and he mirrors it.

“My father is a professor. Not for the liberal arts though but perhaps it rubbed off.” “Perhaps.”

He laughs softly in light of your continuing mockery, “Y/n, correct? I fear I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Doyoung shifts in his spot, his body facing you. He extends his hand and you take it. His fingers are nimble and long, his palms clammy but soft, and his grasp is strong but delicate against your own. 

Your smile doesn’t falter, thumb caressing his knuckles, an act he replicates against your own. “Yes… beautiful house by the way. What do you do for a living?" You ask curiously, met by a scolding shriek when Tina and Meghan come out with glasses of lemonade, something you did not want. Lemonade and their interruption, it's interchangeable.

"Y/n those things are not asked!" Meghan scolds, handing Doyoung his glass. He laughs, shaking his head while taking a sip. You watch some of it slip from the corner of his lip. He is such an unfortunate person when it comes to liquids, it seems. Regardless, you wondered what it would be like to clean it off of him…

Someone cleanse you of these thoughts, this is forbidden grounds.

"Why not?" You ask confusedly, looking at the components inside the cup. Nothing but murky pulp-filled sweet water. Your emotions present on your face, perceived wrongly by the only man there who felt it was your response to being scolded. "It's completely fine to ask that now, don't worry." Meghan shoots him a look, irksome at the use of 'now'. She doesn't have to wonder what he meant, only in dissecting his tone.

"I'm an aerodynamicist. Right now we're working on finding a solution to reduce the consumption of fuel." His voice is a pitch higher, tossing that pretentious tone to his words, forgetting his drink while fully turning to everyone as he excitedly gets into the topic. "The main culprit —or so we think— is the wings… let's say the wings of an aircraft. Their shape to be specific contributes to th—" Before he could finish, Meghan hums interrupting. Her words later followed, "Yeah, yeah, sounds fun. Dinner is ready so it's best we stop the chit-chat if we want something warm to eat."

Both you and Tina turn to her mother, a quick glance full of judgment and some surprise. She's never interrupted any of you when passionately speaking about your interests, this was new. Tina doesn't dare look at Doyoung though, she simply walks back inside with her still full drink in hand. Meghan on the other hand waits for him to stand up and follow her. His shoulders slumped and head low, a reassuring smile thrown your way but his dull eyes say otherwise.

"We're glad to have you girls here." Doyoung utters with a nod, turning to follow his wife. "Welcome." The only thing that leaves Meghan's lips. At the time it sounded like that, a welcoming. Now you realize she was responding to the expected devout gratitude for taking you in all those years ago and even now.

What a way to introduce their relationship to you. What a way to cement the reality of the dynamics between all.

There was a foreign air after that fateful day, something you had never expected when it came to spending time with your best friend and her mother. This was stuffy and suffocating. You chopped it to the different location, you will soon find it's the repressed feelings of everyone in this house and of those that lived before.

Meghan tried her best to not show her unwillingness towards her husband, yet it was evident to all that she held animosity for some odd reason. No amount of smiles and reassuring pats could tell any of you otherwise but they satiated him and no one would interfere with that.

Doyoung was doting and sweet. He immersed in conversations to learn more about his guests and later rewarded them with things mentioned in passing. This was his way of showing his affection. It became paternal in a way that you didn't like and in a way that made Tina uncomfortable but which she could understand. Odd, extremely so, considering he could easily be her brother. If she was to voice her dilemmas, Doyoung would fully understand. Yet like you've told her before: "If you don't speak, God won't hear you."

To you, Doyoung was yet another guy that could have been in your college classes. He made sure to act like it when he finally got comfortable and that resulted in joking and lax conversations about his interests and yours, similar to the first day. Giggles and lingering touches, too close at times for two strangers. This way he felt young and correct again.

The downside came the following day, going back to that paternal and reserved front as if he was the same age as his wife and not what he portrayed with you. Treating you and Tina like kids and that's what you both loathed about his time with Meghan. She only seemed to suck the life out of him when night fell.

Doyoung pandered to her and was at her feet with anything she asked, yet she still patronized him and shut him down when he spoke of his career and parents. Meghan never outright spoke of it but she loathed when he brought up his parents. She hated the house, the basement, the attic, the garden, and the greenhouse. She hated that damn greenhouse more than anything.

You couldn't understand where her feelings stood. She had a family, a complete family. A loving and providing husband, a daughter that would always be there for her, and an established and stable home that was all hers for the time being. What more could she ask for?

Despite Meghan's and Tina's inability to feel at home, you found yourself to fit right in in every groove.

Your bare feet are met with soft dewy kisses from the garden's grass as you sprint inside the house towards Doyoung's study. Leaving a trail of dew on the wooden floorboards. Meghan observes you from the kitchen island, pursed lips and raised glasses as you turn the corner and to the hall where those dark panel mahogany double doors greet you, brightening with every knock.

It takes three rhythmic knocks for him to know it's you. Uttering a 'come in' with a light hum. Instinctively, you smile to yourself, hand turning the now golden door knob. Not feeling the grooves of mosaic crystal and cold copper makes you frown. So does the untouched silver tray of breakfast.

You step over it when making your way inside, closing the door behind you and leaning against the cold wood when he does not turn around. Sunlight peaks through the large glass stained bow windows, his desk perfectly curved to fit into the space. The decor on the windows are your favorite.

The greens and pinks perfectly project onto his skin, making him look diaphanous. The lilies and hummingbird paint a story of near-to-death flowers seeking ailment before they perish and like the knights they are, the hummingbirds come to their aid to bring them back to life. He explained it in the way his father had, revealing his mother to be the hummingbird and his father to be the lilies saved from the misery he was in. That explains the devout love his parents had, manifested all throughout the house and the one Doyoung sought.

He now finds the story to be the other way around with no happily ever after. There's no salvation this time.

When he finally turns, he greets you with a tired smile, shoulders slumped and neck aching. He slept on the chaise lounge. The uncomfortable and awfully warm upholstered leather chaise lounge that's too short for his height. He's been there the entire day after last night's argument with Meghan over her trying to clear out his mother's greenhouse and build a shed for her crafts room. She's not content with the basement and she is not content with him giving you your individual room.

"Found you some critters." You open, his smile widens when you pull out the worn paper bag he gave you to put them in. Walking towards him, he takes it from your hands, nimble fingers gracing your drying ones. "Found these stiff on the tomato pots." You point at the caterpillars. "This butterfly was stuck to the tree trunk. Is it acting or actually dead?" Doyoung lets out a sly hum. "No… it does seem like it's near death, though." taking the butterfly out of the bag.

He looks at it for a moment, noticing the lower wings are damaged but covered by the upper wings. "There… clipped." He gently moves the upper wings with the tweezers. "Rather dramatic if you ask me. She is fine to fly but a little caring should not be bad." He stands from his seat, knees cracking to indicate his lack of movement. He places her in the terrarium, it hops around seeking the flowers you've helped him pick.

It's silent for a moment, he hums a melody while scolding the butterfly as he feeds her sugar water. You sit on his desk chair, swiveling while drumming around the taxidermy scalpels — A few of these have left some scratches on your fingers. He makes sure to lock his items inside his desk drawers, Meghan has explained her disdain and disgust for his hobby and in fear of her digging through and tossing them like she's done with the taxidermy decor, he takes extra precautions.

"Why haven't you eaten?"

Your voice makes him turn, closing the door to the terrarium. He leans against the table, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a grasp of his jaw. Rubbing it as if he was thinking of an answer. He can't lie to you though, he knows you're able to see through his lies. At least surface level, it's the small things he grants you.

"I don't like omelettes. She knows that." He confesses. "I don't like black tea and that is what's on the tray." Your leg raises, feet now dry but stained with that yellow-green hue. Your cheek rests against your bruised knee while taking in his words. He watches all your actions, biting the inside of his cheek as punishment for looking at your limbs.

"Want me to make you anything?" There's some innocence in your voice that warms his chest. Interlaced with your desire to please. Please, please, please.

He smiles fondly, eyes fluttering, and a warm feeling in his chest.

"Don't coddle me." "Generosity."

He slowly approaches you, rearranging the scalpels you played with. He looks down, analyzing you like you were one of his dissected butterflies. Pretty, soft, and delicate. Doyoung knows it's wrong to think of you this way. He's allowed Meghan to fuck the thoughts away from him but they cling to his brain while they're at it. It's vile and disgusting. The act to be precise.

"Is she still upset about the room?" You look up at him, resting against the backrest. He takes a closer look at your outfit. Denim high rise shorts, white lace short strap top, and red ribbon in your hair that he wrapped around the strands a while ago and you never got rid of. The same one he uses to decorate bigger taxidermy species like the squirrels the neighborhood cat leaves laying on the porch. You want to think it's metaphoric but you sound stupid trying to find a connection despite the words lingering in the tip of your tongue. Fresh and clear on his mind.

"I don't mind taking the attic, it's nice and cozy. Your dad did a good job decorating it." A reassuring smile that he does not accept. "What are you, Harry Potter? It's your room and it's my house." That first day during dinner, Doyoung expressed his gratitude to you for being part of their family. It did not pertain to him, he believed family deserved their own space.

His actions worked to ease and win Tina over even if it was a tad but Meghan felt a stabbing sense in her lower stomach and a scratch in her brain that made a whirling dark orb manifest. It's the same feeling that brews the longer she stands behind those mahogany doors hoping to hear what is said but the whispered mutters and her aged ear drums hand no aid.

Doyoung pulls his footstool, taking a seat before you. His hands trickle down to your foot, picking off the remaining blades that stain his own hands. He looks up at you when he reaches for a wipe, the green stains cling when the fabric graces the arch of your sole.

"It tickles." You state, he hums. Fingers press harder. "Better?" You nod. He looks at you during the ministration, putting your foot down delicately to do the same with the other. You watch his every move and he receives your gaze with a smile when he meets it. "My mom would do this when I would run around the garden. She hated when I left stains on the floors. Said they wouldn't come off but when I would go to sleep she painted over the footprints and re-stain the floor." He smiles fondly, warming up your skin from the cold, damp wipe. His fond touch doing most of the job.

"It sounds like a prank that turned into preservation. Maybe she liked seeing your growth. Meghan marked our growth on the walls of her apartment. I'm sure the landlord has painted over them now."

He hums, taking in the comparison. It's cute, nice and nostalgic but it highlights the passage of time and how mortal things seem around you and the other two. How mortal things around him can be too.

Doyoung is doting and sweet. Soft and gentle, immersing himself in his actions to not hurt the other. You envy Meghan, you're sure of it now.

"You should really put shoes on, I can't keep cleaning your feet." "You have no obligation."

He looks at you the way Mary Magdalene did when washing Jesus' feet. He looks at you like his savior and redeemer, you're not sure why or you haven't been able to fully understand him yet.

He nods, his growing finger nails pinching below your toes. You wince, confusedly looking at him. "The critters will recognize your pattern and their missing friends. Don't cry when you're pinched," He playfully scolds the way his parents used to do; voice lowering upon seeing a shadow come from under the doors. "I won't be able to kiss the pain away." He raises your foot, the action new but comforting to your taste. His eyes don't tear away when his plush lips come in contact with your newly cleaned feet. It's soft, warm, sort of wet but nice enough for you to let your hand reach for where he touches.

This is wrong, plentiful wrong but Adam (Doyoung) will drag you to take a bite of that forbidden fruit if he keeps going.

Something ate away at Meghan the longer she stood behind those thick doors. The same way ants crawled around the food she had made him earlier. That made her aching worse and if she didn't open those doors now, she won't remain sane.

She takes a few breaths in, noise seizing to come through, making things far more unsettling. Decidedly, she pushes through, opening both doors dramatically, taking in the image of her husband and faux daughter. Her eyes waver as her voice wants to do. Impotence and defeat.

Nothing.

"Must you punish me?" She directly questions. Her eyes fleeting to your lax position on his chair, recognizing the ribbon from the decor she threw out and his proximity to you. "You can't knock?" He turns his attention back to his craft, as if he had not been kneeling before you seconds prior. "Rehydration solution, Y/n."

With a syringe, he injects it onto the body of the second butterfly while you wet a paper towel, taking a beaker of solution to the other side of the room. You don't speak, following the steps he's taught you in the process.

"It's my house." Meghan states. "It's my house." Doyoung corrects.

The older woman glares. If looks could kill, the house would be hers once and for all.

"The ants are eating your breakfast." "Oh good, they'll stay away from the peonies."

He smiles to himself, Meghan can't see it but she's sure of it and that irks her more. She turns to your moving figure, handing him a warmer solution to pour in the container and put the critters in. Taking in the interaction, her eye spasms. The green stains on his slacks and your clean feet. She has no proof nor a concrete case but she knows it was nothing decent. Disturbed by the bond, she swallows her huff but not the irking orb that eats away her love for you.

"Y/n, give us some alone time." She bites, her words laced with the venom of the centipede he's wrapping around stiff caterpillars. "We're not done with this." He tuts. Meghan, appalled by his opposition, allows her jaw to slack. Her emotions are rampant and fiery that he would contradict her. That he found it in himself to not slouch his shoulders and go along with her decisions.

Your gaze flits between them, their glaring not seizing. The tension is palpable, leading you to fumble the cloth holding onto the piping hot beaker. You know how hot glass can be but when you're the magnetic pull that's causing this, it's something you don't focus on.

Your shriek forces them to break their combat, that motherly look Meghan often had returns when she sees your irritated hand and the way you fall back onto his chair the moment the scalding solution splashes over your bare feet.

They rush towards you, watching their step over the broken pieces of glass. While Meghan attempts to question if you're okay, Doyoung is already in the process of rubbing Silvadene over the light burn of your palm. She watches in amazement how delicate he is. His fingers grace over the skin, if it wasn't stinging you'd repeat that it tickles. And if his wife wasn't here, he'd replicate the image of soothing your aching feet with kisses.

With every passing second, Meghan feels that obscure orb grow and grow. Her motherly instinct is consumed by it, disgusted queries plaguing her heart and soul seeing him sit on the foot stool and place your feet over his lap. This is how the stains on his slacks came to be. His nimble digits rubbing the ointment on noticeable ailments and on spots you pointed at with minute pained whimper that she'll take as pleasure.

This isn't right. Meghan no longer feels like a mother to you. And this is only one of many instances her feelings are reassured.

Doyoung didn’t want to argue any longer in the dark depths of his cold bedroom. It was amazing how quickly his marriage was falling apart in the span of a few weeks when the two shared a beautiful —so he’s forcing himself to think— relationship. Now all he can do is whisper his grievances to his wife who finds it disrespectful that he’s rebutting her own arguments due to his age.

Meghan will never say it out loud but she respects Doyoung less and expects him to treat her like his superior for said gap, forgetting they were in a relationship and should both treat each other accordingly and not like mother-son; disgustingly.

Said argument is what led a tired Doyoung to sigh heavily on his way out of the bedroom in hopes of relaxation by either watching something in the media room or basking in the night’s breeze while sitting on the porch swing with a glass of whiskey on the rocks or an ice cold beer.

The latter makes him smile fondly.

Decidedly, Doyoung pads towards the kitchen, his bare feet absorbing the coldness of the wooden floors, ignoring his scolding after you burnt your feet. The closer he got to the large room, the sound of his padding mellowed out compared to the rummaging of items. For a second he feared they'd gotten an infestation of mice. It would not be the first time the house had any.

His inquiries were disposed of once reaching the kitchen when he saw such a pretty image that made him relax. And similar to the mice he once fended against years ago with his father, you sat in front of the fridge, feasting, with a bottle of whipped cream at hand. Allowing the sweet dairy to fall upon a strawberry that you indelicately shoved into your mouth without a care that its juice spilled from the corner of your lips and the dairy followed behind, creating a light pink ribbon to decorate your pretty lips the way those glosses you often smear do.

It oddly reminds him of the first day you two met. He looks at you the same way you looked at him. Lingering and foreign attraction, although it's not so foreign now.

It's not right, but you're closer and closer to taking a bite out of that apple.

You don't bother cleaning the cream off, continuing to push the berries into your mouth. One after another as your stomach yearns for more. You could’ve continued, although halt at his endeared chuckle. You're startled, feeling a cold sweat wash through your entire body. If there was one thing you hated was people catching you eating late at night. More so when you're filling your aching body with self targeted disgust and sweets. Like a child, the one he treats you as when the other two are near but forgotten about when it's just you two.

This is what holds you back, the apple seems so rotten and further at times.

Doyoung doesn't speak, walking towards you with a napkin in hand, taken on his way. He crouches down to your level, making you break out of that frozen state. “I’m sorry…” you whisper, eyes following his, seeking any reaction. “For what?” He questions sweetly, hand cupping your jaw softly. Shooting you a quick glance and smile before continuing his ministration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come down to eat in secrecy.” You swallow hard, a lump formed in your throat with his touch, unaware of when. “I know she doesn't like it but usually she comes up to tell me dinner was ready and…” You shrug, meek voice making his chest compress, he senses unwarranted guilt. As if it was your fault his wife kept using food as punishment.

Meghan had told him you were asleep, not that she didn't let you know dinner was ready and that disquiets him. His eyebrows furrow, other hand reaches your face, softly wiping the strawberry juice with his thumb. Licking it beforehand. Doyoung is closer and closer with every passing day. Just last night his touch lingered in between your thigh and knee, you imagine he'll reward you and slip his fingers between your lips soon. Whichever ones and you won't be opposed to it like prior times.

Doyoung gives you a semi-scolding look, “I've told you before. It's my house, you can eat whenever and whatever you want, Y/n." He pats your cheek, pecking it for reassurance. The action startles you every time. They never feel soft and innocent. Always intentional but when he pulls back and gives you a reassuring smile, it forces you to ponder how much you want his generosity to be more than that? It's wrong, you're aware of it, always will be.

His touch lingers a little longer, fleeting stares from your own eyes to lips as his pads waltz across your skin until he finally finds it in himself to let go. “Still hungry?” He asks, helping you up. Ready to deny, your stomach rumbles loudly, giving you no time to privy it of its rights for yet another day. Doyoung simply nods with a smile, cocking his head to the entrance.

“Put your shoes on, let's see what's open at this hour.” “It’s very late to eat a big meal, Mr.Kim…”

The smile on his lips attempts not to falter at what you call him. Doyoung hated it with his entire soul. You weren't going to seize as long as he didn't seize treating you like Tina, like you're his stepdaughter too. Although, in this instant it's punishment for making you feel so ill and needy.

You want more, you crave more, but you can't have more.

It's odd to you how both can easily bask in the delicacy of tense intimacy and this… disgusting forced idea of a familial relationship at times. Especially when they would intertwine like it is now. You hate him for it sometimes. 'Coward' is what bounces in your head often when his touch lingers just to treat you like he treats Tina when his sick brain tells him to.

Regardless, Doyoung doesn't get to respond or scold, his bedroom door slams and Meghan has reached the kitchen watching as he crouches over you. She sees the dirtied napkin and your red lips. She sees his hand ghosting over your cheek and the (bitter) smile he had falters when his eyes land on her. While with you it was full of fondness and amusement (she believes), disgust greets her. She's been aware of it for a while now.

"Y/n go to your room." She demands lowly, her hands clinging to her sleeping pants. "No." Doyoung interferes, and like that day in his study, Meghan glares at him, offended by his insistence on speaking back to her like a child disrespecting their elders. "Go to sleep." She grits out, turning to you. You stand up, keeping a distance from Doyoung who immediately speaks. "Go put your shoes on, let's go get you something to eat."

Meghan's lips fall ajar. A scoff and slight cackle hearing his words and the soft look he shoots you. "Are you fucking serious right now?" She asks infuriated, walking closer and slapping his hand off of your arm which aided in stabilizing you when getting up.

"She's hungry, Meghan." Doyoung spits back, disgust building in his gaze. His wife shoots him a response with hers, almost saying "That's not my concern." but the words don't leave her for she knows it will push things further. It's futile, Doyoung scowls and his head slowly shakes the longer he looks at her. There it is, that disgust once again and it eats away at her.

"You told me she was asleep. I didn't take you for someone gluttonous." Meghan could only describe the brewing feeling as embarrassment and pure seething rage. Who did Doyoung think he was to confront her like this? Implication full of disgust and hitting her where he knew it hurt. More so in front of the one causing all the problems. With your faux naivety and innocent looks. With that cunning smile you shoot her when around him. Meghan knows what you are, she knows what men like and she's experiencing it before her eyes. Men are weak.

If you were to peak inside her head and heart, that obscure growing orb was nothing but rotting tar.

"Don't be insolent. Don't bring that up in front of her!" She spits out, "Y/n go to your room!" Disturbed by being undermined by two people she deemed lesser than her. Doyoung attempts to stop you again, his grip a bit harsher than before. You look at where his hand is. This is familiar, revoltingly so. You feel like a child in the middle of their parents' argument. Getting pulled left and right until they tear you apart stitch by stitch. It's painful in all senses and when Meghan opens her mouth to yell at her husband, you screw your eyes, shaking your head and freeing yourself from his grasp.

"I'll go. I'll go… I'll go. Please." You repeat like a mantra, hoping your words will make it all end. The latter begging them to not include you, to leave you alone and forget that your existence is brewing something between them.

You always wonder how Tina is able to sleep through this and not wake up from their screaming. They no longer attempt to hide the potency of their vocal chords nor their words. You know they talk about you when the muffled voices take over or when Doyoung tells her to lower her voice while she laughs maliciously about how much of a vile, disgusting, and infelicitous asshole he is. Otherwise, you know their problems stem from their joint resentment about the power dynamics.

When two people want the same thing at the same time, things are bound to burn over.

Doyoung didn't take long to walk out after she called him those names again. Throwing in his face that he's a pretentious brat with nothing worth fighting for. Meghan has found going against his upbringing to be successful in debilitating him. The only downside is that he loathes her more and more and respects her as much as she does him. Very little to null.

Sleep fleets away. Fear floods you with the idea that Meghan was capable of barging into your room any second now and reproach you for ruining her marriage. She doesn't tell you directly and neither do the other two in the house but her demeanor change is more than clear. Her warm smiles are officially gone, cold and resentful glares replace them. And she no longer cares that they call her out for ignoring you.

Her hugs are foreign to you and her food no longer is edible. That love she once poured into her meals is gone with her motherly instincts. It aches, horribly so. You've known her and Tina since you began your academic career. When your parents couldn't pick you up or take you to school, Meghan was there. Summers were spent with them like this one with the exception that they were the happiest memories.

You have Tina, you know that. She's your sister. Although, you would prefer to not see her argue with her mother about you or see them give each other the cold shoulder after. You don't want her relationship with her mother to worsen, that's the last thing you want but you can't control what people feel. You're aware of that, Meghan isn't.

It's 1:00AM when sleep finally comes back to you and you feel safe enough. The comforter brings you the warmth you're lacking but isn't able to fill your chest. Soft lamentable sighs have left your lips all night over how horrid this summer has turned.

A part of you blames Doyoung. His addition has ruined the balance the three of you had. His cowardice of accepting Meghan's punches and seeking her motherly care during those years blinded him of the bigger picture — it's quite obvious now, confirmation is all you needed.

The other part of you accepts that Meghan is a decrepit insecure woman who seeks power and control of anyone that isn't her and that fills you with both anger and hurt, feeling no immense remorse for threading around Doyoung the way you do. You're allowed to indulge yourself from time to time.

Meghan wants puppets, not family.

Immersed in your pity and vexation, you don't notice when your bedroom window opens. The latch closing is what makes you turn around startled. A dark figure creeping through the shadows, tall and slim. Fright replaces the sleep you felt, manifested in an attempt to scream until your mouth is hastily covered with warm clammy hands that you instantly recognize by the bony nimble fingers. Doyoung.

A finger to his lips, shushes you, he sits on the corner of your bed. You swallow, your head spinning and light front the freight he just caused you. When you relax, you shake your head with a silent laugh. "You scared me," 'Asshole' silently balanced on your tongue. "For a second you made me believe Nosferatu was real." You joke, "But that would mean an old hag has been haunting me for ages, and I just met you." He pats your cheek almost condescendingly without saying sorry but meaning it. At least you think he's sorry.

"Here." He smiles — the most he does to entertain you—, handing you a bag you hadn't noticed earlier. That may explain the sweet smell of warm blueberries waltzing through the room to sedate you and make you more receptive to what he offers. "You didn't have to." You protest, he meets it with a shake of his head and raises a hand letting you know to just be quiet and take it. He does it with a smile on his face and it irritates you but it's also very beautiful that you oblige. "Thank you." You croon, a smile involuntarily creeping on your face. He responds to your words with a caress of your cheek.

"I've told you to not call me Mr. Kim before, haven't I?" His words slow down your movement, smile faltering. "Is that not your name?" You quip, giving him a quick glance while cutting the waffle into squares. It's warm and soft, as he is. Unfortunately if it's left in the open for too long, it will harden and rot. As he will.

There's some tenderness in his gaze, muddled with the same irascibility Meghan looks at him with when he talks back to subvert her. It makes your eyebrows furrow while you slowly chew, it's an odd feeling. Unfortunately for you, he's smart enough to read a person and divert the conversation. It so happens to be that he doesn't do it with Meghan anymore because he enjoys seeing her peeved and red.

He's become so cynical. The things marriage does to you.

"Regardless, please don't call me that, you make me feel old." "You are old." Your teasing makes him gasp, jaw slack with semi-offense before ruffling your hair, destroying the braid. You laugh at his actions, successfully forgetting his earlier look.

"I'm only five years older than you!" He whisper-yells, offense still imprinted onto his being. "Then don't treat me like you're much older." Spoken in between laughs, your words do settle in his mind. Doyoung knows this happens often, it disgusts him but at the same time it keeps him morally sane.

Yes, he touches you more than he should. But he balances it out by indulging your childish attributes that make you act bubbly and younger around him.

Yes, he looks at you with rapidly growing attraction and lust. But he balances it by teaching you step by step on how to maintain perfectly taxidermied insects the way paternal figures do.

He understands and feels that underlying disgust. It's self-punishment for thinking about you when he is married despite loathing the woman. His attraction to you is punishment for that alone.

He should still remain a good man. He is a good man.

Until he learns to enjoy the power trip. He can somewhat understand his wife for that.

Coward.

His smile begins to lose its intensity, nodding while getting comfortable on your bed. He's receptive when you feed him squares here and there, making sure to look directly in your eyes when he takes them into his mouth. Lips wrapping around the black plastic fork and lapping at the syrup hiding between the backside grooves just to watch you immediately replicate his actions. It's a soothing dance, ego indulgent to know you take what he gives.

"Listen," You feed him again. "I'm sorry for earlier." He covers his mouth, "For continuing to put you in those situations, truly sorry." His hand goes up to his chest, his wedding band is gone, causing a warm feeling to brew in your stomach, manifested as an involuntary smile on your lips.

You shrug, nonchalantly as if it didn't matter when you knew it did. "Not my first rodeo." You mutter, feeding him the last bit before placing the tray on the nightstand. He looks at you, taking in your reactions and the stuck sigh that you finally release when he doesn't prod.

You never spoke of your own family. It was always Meghan and Tina this, Meghan and Tina that. At the beginning he wondered if they would be preoccupied knowing you were here, meeting a stranger despite being in safe hands. Yet after a month he noticed the conflicting projected emotions on your face when he spoke about his parents and how loving to each other they've always been. He could tell admiration and resentment were bigger emotions you carried. Now it does not surprise him that you're saying this. More so, it's confirmation.

"How did you even meet her, by the way? I just can't think of a scenario where you'd meet a woman like Meghan."

Curiosity and petulance lace your voice. He smiles to himself, taking your hand into his, reassured he was taking the right steps when you reluctantly relax against his touch. "My mom grew up in a house with four brothers. She always felt the need to prove she was as important as them. You know, rough housing, sports, academics, that sort of thing." He shrugs, "Futile because my grandparents loved and supported her no matter what she did. There truly was no difference in their treatment of the five — very progressive, they were. Kind of holistic— she simply made that rivalry up in her head."

You'd ask what any of this had to do with your question, but Doyoung likes to speak, he likes to speak about his parents. Even if it was a simple redaction.

"So she spent her entire life doing things that would put her far away from those related to housewives. Never learned how to cook, clean, gardening was her only token but that's because she was a botanist. My dad did everything else." He laughs, fond memories of seeing his dad in frilly aprons and pink mittens. He chose them, all the decor was his pick. Doyoung only ever lets you use them when you're in the kitchen.

"This was ten years ago, I was visiting them from college for the summer when I found she had created a crafts room out of this room." His free hand points around the walls of your room, wallpaper in a quilt design explaining it all. "She said she was too old to not know basic things like mending a hole in dad's socks or helping him with dinner. That he was getting old and weak too, it was a job for two to get anything out of the oven."

He hums, gaze on your interlocked hands. "So I drove her daily to these classes at the community center. That's when I first met Meghan, she was there to teach the classes. Nothing went past pleasantries and my mom joking about how I'd look good with Tina."

Selfish you are for letting vile manifest and spread through your chest when hearing those words. Tina… Tina couldn't handle Doyoung. They can't even stand to be in a room together without it being awkward. So selfish of you to make this about yourself, squeezing his hand scolding. He takes it with humor, feigning not noticing for the sake of his ego.

"Of course my mom didn't know Tina's age, when she realized how much younger she was, she stopped the jokes. They became somewhat friends, never seeing each other outside the community center to my knowledge. I didn't see Meghan for years after that but three years ago when my mom's Alzheimer's worsened and she had forgotten the difference between toxic versus non toxic liquids, she ended up poisoning herself by drinking insecticide. Later we found cleaning supplies with her lipstick on the mouth. It's at the funeral that I saw Meghan again and she was there for my dad and I…"

You didn't imagine this would take that turn. He always spoke so fondly of his parents like they were still around somewhere. Never said where but still around. You now realize it's their lingering presence around everything here.

"I'm sorry, Doyoung…" He dismisses you, shaking his head and kissing your hand. He's trying to control his labored breathing, warm and harsh against your skin, his hand clammy.

"Dad felt so guilty for it all. He taught about the development of the human brain, did neuroscience studies for the university and certain labs here and there all his life and he couldn't save his own wife. So… he left me too. He left for a study, who knows where and I haven't heard from him since." He smiles, a sort of bitterness that he didn't want to have for his father. Reluctance to accept that it was perhaps more than a trip. "Lawyers came days after he left, everything left to my name on both their ends. Meghan had been the only one to check in on me besides extended family but they live far away, there's not much they could do."

Guilt floods you. Why couldn't you just push back that desire to belittle Meghan more in your mind. The worst part is that your brain won't stop telling you that she only took advantage of his vulnerability. Sweet, vulnerable Doyoung who lost his parents in a span of weeks left to rot on his own with a huge house, assets, and a desire to give and give to anyone willing to comfort him. Convenient.

Doyoung hums, sitting up. The silence helps him admire you, or simply distract himself from this gushing open wound. The braid he destroyed, cascading over your shoulder. Shoulder covered in a thick light yellow lace strap with matching ribbons on the chest. He smiles noticing the small details, he recalls helping you sneak into Meghan's craft room to make that night gown. Fabric and ribbon he took from his mother's stash.

She would like you, he believes so.

"You've made good use of the marigold dye." Doyoung smiles, his hand reaching to touch the strap. His fingers dance over it, letting them touch your skin. It's cruel and mean but very elating. He's been playing this teasing game and unfortunately, it's you who wants it more. From then on, they inch closer to the ribbon. Fingers jumping on every spot and ending on the bow, delicately admiring it.

Truth be told he kept his touch there to feel the increase of your respiration. Chest moving up and down faster than previously. He smiles to himself, almost mischievously when he notices a new item around your neck. "The roses too… my mother would have been so content with you." He giggles, patting your cheek prior to giving himself the liberty to touch the rose beads that form a necklace.

She would like you, he's sure of it.

"Very ingenious, so good." Doyoung hums, his hand trails to hold your neck. You nod slowly, entranced in your humiliating arousal from just his touch. You feel pubescent, frothing at the mouth from one touch. Stupid. He's just another man… a man that coddles and holds you in secrecy. It's the forbidden excitement laced with guilt at how treacherous the human mind and body can be.

Clearing your throat, you look around, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, well, she has a lovely and fruitful garden… Greenhouse too, I found some purple cabbages from the spring season, they'd make a lovely dye." You divert but his touch doesn't fall, his other hand opts to join on your cheek, cradling it.

Instinctively you lean into it, forcing you to look at him. There's no teasing or patronizing looks on his end and you're thankful for it. It's full blown admiration and desire in those dark orbs that pull you closer to him while he caresses you. They allow themselves to rake your face. Every feature but most of all your lips and eyes, longing to land on your pupils as to bless whatever you see. On your forehead to reassure that he is your safe haven as you are becoming his. It oddly reminds you of the looks he gave when cleaning your feet before the accident. Like Mary Magdalene admiring her savior.

Doyoung thinks he is allowed this indulgence for once. He can punish himself after but he can no longer go without tasting your skin on his lips, he feels so famished. Letting out a shaky breath, he softly rises, bringing your head closer to him. Breath labored with every move and warm against your skin when he's mere centimeters from it. Shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, letting them fall on your eyelids.

Velvet and moist, that's how his lips feel. You sigh in relief, unaware you had been holding your breath. His lip travels to the other eyelid, it's quick unlike prior, for he rushes to kiss your forehead, lingering for as long as he can before letting out a content sigh of his own, and a liberated smile. He wants to laugh at how absurd he is being but that would only keep wasting time.

Doyoung is so close to your lips when he decides it is best to take the full risk, however you both hear the soft knocks against your door and the rattling of the doorknob. He can't describe the feeling as freight, more so irreverent wrath.

"Y/n? Y/n why is the door locked?"

Tina.

The man instantly pulls away. His touch burns you both and guilt manifests itself through blown out pupils — your own, not his. Your lips are ajar when he places his finger up to his own, like the way he entered your room and disappears the same way. He says nothing and neither do you, opening the door when he's not in view.

The doorknob continues to rattle until she feels the weight of your hand on it. You sigh heavily before opening the door, looking at her blankly which she notices but does not mention. She never does.

"I heard voices." "I'm watching a movie."

She hums. She believes you. She believes you. She does…

"Why was the door locked?" She asks, concern on her face. When your eyes divert from hers, she can tell something had gone on. You usually enjoy having her know everything about you. That's what best friends do, yet at the moment you loathe her for it. That's what sisters do. That gnawing disturbance of frustration and impotency. The type she's felt this entire summer break.

You simply hum, she giggles.

"How bad was it now?" She now finds humor in knowing she always sleeps through their arguments. It's not so funny to you. "Nothing special, I was in the kitchen when he stormed out then she followed behind and they went at it after I left." She giggles once more. Unsure now if it's because she actually finds it comedic or she doesn't know how to respond.

This is her mother and her happiness they're talking about. This is you, her best friend and your friendship on the line.

It’s not like you can tell her that her stepfather defending you from her mom for the millionth time isn’t pushing her into deeper hatred. It’s not like you can tell her that her mother purposely starved you for the day out of pure unadulterated jealousy because her husband desires you more than her. No, can you? No. Silence and lies will do.

"Hey, did you know how Meghan and Doyoung met?" You ask, looking at where had laid. Tina shrugs, "She told me they saw each other at a coffee shop from time to time and talked since then. She doesn't like coffee though." She shrugs again.

Oh Tina. Willfully ignorant and avoidant. Perhaps the story is right but you're sure that if Tina fully knew her mother had met doyoung ten years younger with baby fat still on his cheeks and younger than she is, her dilemma would only worsen. Coward.

Unlike Tina, Meghan didn't hesitate in barging in after a few minutes. It leaves you and her daughter dumbfounded when the angry look becomes bewildered and disappointed, like she had expected to find something (or someone) to prove her suspicions.

"Mom?"

Meghan acknowledges it with a sigh, "Go to sleep, it's late." Making you both feel ten again at one of multiple sleepovers during school nights. Tina responds with a nod. You, you look at her for any trace of something. There's worry, that's for sure. And there's also anger. Nothing new.

The front door is slammed downstairs, causing Tina to get a startled look on her face that is reassured when Meghan shakes her head, dismissively. She opens her mouth to calm her daughter when a disgusting thought tells you to do the talking for her. She deserves even this bit.

"It's Doyoung, don't worry."

And it's disturbing to Meghan that you spoke her thoughts, word for word while looking at her.

Meghan has gotten her confirmation for the night.

That night had given some clarity to Doyoung. Arguments with his wife seized for the most part and before they could begin, he was out the door for his nightly runs. That's what she believed at least. He tampered with his smartwatch to mark his steps knowing she would look through it.

Reality is that he crept up the trellis to your room. Spending the nights under the covers with earphones in, door locked, lights off, and a movie lulling you to sleep while getting a few whispered conversations in here and there. His lips or yours pressed against each other's ear. It was the closest to kissing you would get at.

When you do fall asleep, he tucks you in. Caresses your hair and kisses your forehead goodnight before crawling back down the trellis and entering through the front door. To continue his reality of being married to a woman that no longer treats him with the care he sought but at least he can provide it for you and that you've slowly been returning.

Doyoung has taken that into account and rewards you for it. The gifts were small at first, snacks that Meghan wouldn't allow into the house, books in your wish list. They later became more intricate. Your personal taxidermy and diaphonization kits (locked in his study), pendants of the critters utilized, a camera to document your process, and the most recent being two chickens and doves.

The animals irked his wife more than anything. She has spent the past two months arguing about tearing down the greenhouse and it only took you a mention of the excess of caterpillars and worms in there for him to bring in the chickens. You looked after them, sure, however the chickens with free range left their eggs and droppings everywhere. It felt intentional how she found them laying on her clean laundry, pecked her if they saw her, and worse off stained all of her fabric. They abhor her as much as she does them.

At least the bleeding-heart doves are lovely to look at despite their cold shoulder towards her. Tina gets a ruffle of feathers, you and Doyoung some crooning, and spooning among each other when it's you and him peering upon them. It's the small things that drive her deeper into her madness.

Like seeing you sit criss-crossed on the plush bright grass. It's dewy again, much taller now than it was before but he promised to mow soon. Right now he's too busy hammering in old nails onto stained wood and footprints —yours and his— to create a coup for the chickens. Not by her demand, no. He'd never take hers seriously, but yours.

"Diaphonized insects are horrid. They're all brown. I think I should give wet species a chance." Doyoung takes your words in, a simple chuckle looking at your pout. Petulant and spoiled. "Y/n, you're not drying them fast enough." He corrects, you shrug knowing he may be right but working with insects has bored you. "Either way, centipedes and spiders look disgusting in those vials."

The chickens flock around you, pecking the ground. Their clucking became louder, frustrated the longer they weren't able to obtain what they wanted. Doyoung gives them a quick glance, a fastidious kind of melody, one he isn't used to. Neither are you according to the stink eye you give them. It's pleasant to Meghan, leaning against the sink with peering bright eyes, it feels like justice for once.

It's a delicacy. Your desperate attempts to calm them down, Doyoung's hammering exasperating the chickens, and finally… A loud and pained screech from you, pushing away the hen that victoriously clucks as it swallows the culprit of your scream. One of the neighbor's centipedes.

Doyoung drops his tools, rushing to your aid. He watches you tumble, attempting to stand, however the aching sting and burn on your foot doesn't allow it. Meghan watches every movement from you both. Your disgruntled whines and moans, his shushes in an attempt to calm you down. Hands clasping around your feet, soothing the inflamed bump in hopes it did something. It didn't, it irritated the wound further.

"I told you the critters would recognize your feet." He jokes, scolding in the process. The stinging is intense enough that waspishly, you huff, pouting his way. "Nuh-uh." You reply, rolling your eyes when he throws in a glare. He shakes his head, finally sitting, his knees aching. Like the day you burnt your feet, he takes your feet in his lap, looking over the wound while your soles leave stains again.

He smiles to himself, an airy laugh as if he was coming up with something, fingers waltzing over the bite. "I told you to put shoes on, I won't always be here to help you." Smile turns into a grin, teasing as he lets his lips fall over the wound.

It stings. The warmth of his own flesh against the boiling fire of yours, it's not pleasant and you make it known. With the exception that it comes out strangled and pleasured. Much to his delight, making his lips part, tongue gracing the area just to add more pain and more pretty sounds to leave you.

It's an erotic image to anyone who experiences and sees it. Meghan feels the boiling pain in her chest, the same way you do on your foot. The only difference is that Doyoung won't attempt to soothe hers. He won't even acknowledge it.

Doyoung is looking up at you with a curling smile, lips pulling apart from your skin, eyes raking the expanse of your exposed thigh when the dress rode up. " Met with a harsh pull, Meghan reaches both of you, hands on Doyoung who stumbles to stand up. It's hard to decipher what her expressions read, all emotions coursing through like a bad acid trip, colors roaming around in a slew.

Anger, disgust, pain, defeat, resentment. It made no difference, it was all negative.

"How do you plan on defending this now, huh?" She asks, wavering voice when she looks between you two. "What could you possibly say to make this look normal, Doyoung?!" Her voice rose, startling Tina who had been in the entertainment room when she heard your scream. Like usual, she opts to remain where she's at. It's no use involving herself when she's known how this would all end since the beginning.

"Sucking the venom out, Meghan. Fuck me, why do you have to make everything so salacious?" Doyoung grits, a tone she had not fallen for years ago.

His speech and tone has changed within these months. He no longer spoke like a poised character, he spoke like you. He smelt like you and his quirks adapted to yours. Doyoung was no longer Meghan's and that's a fact she's finding difficult to deal with. Similar to how parents aren't able to understand the autonomy of a child as they grow.

Frustratingly so, his response made sense to her. She's seen it in movies, she's read about it — so she thinks. Unfortunately for her, this was only a sting, like a mosquito or a bee sting, something that will subside with ointment just like your burns weeks prior. There was nothing to suck out nor was it recommended.

"How convenient." She scoffs. Meghan hated how upset she was. She knew this was bound to happen and why she kept her relationship hidden from you for the past two years.

Meghan knew your interests, knew your beliefs, and knew you her entire life. She knew how drawn everyone instantly is to you and woefully, she knew Doyoung would be one of those people too. She was proven right the first day when she saw him approach you on that swing and converse so easily. Touch you so easily…

It never got better as the days went by. Why was it so easy for him to cave and give you a room? A room meant for her hobbies. A room meant for hobbies, as his mother had wanted. Why did he allow you into his study without hesitance when she could only remain for five minutes or so? Why did he have to please you by offering dinner? It's been a while since he's taken her out to dinner. Yes, it was wrong of her to privy you of basic needs but earlier in the day she had seen you so content in that stupid greenhouse and understood fully why he kept refusing to tear it down besides grief. You kept it alive just like his mother did.

Her jealousy doesn't outweigh her disdain for being undermined. Like a person working night and day, loyal to one job for years on end and aging throughout them to be replaced like nothing by a new set of fresh meat. A kick to the rear and a big "Fuck you, you're no longer useful and too old for us to care about your opinion." That's how her relationship with Doyoung felt when he met you.

When they started dating, Doyoung sought her sweet reassuring words and pet names. Her gentle touches and pats when he did a good job. Her comforting food and the affection she gave Tina. It was pleasant, she knew what he wanted all along and she was more than willing to give it to him as long as he reciprocated her own desires. Surrendering control and devotion.

Those things no longer belonged to her. His devotion shifted to you —she's witnessed it on multiple accounts— and control is his again. That's one way of looking at things. He moves her and Tina into his home, doesn't let her make any changes and instead rubs it in her face that you adore the house and its quirks. His house and his quirks.

If everything reminded her already of his parents, it now reminds her of you too and how much more power ghosts and a child have rather than her.

Meghan scoffs and huffs every now and then while rebutting his arguments. He mimics them to show her how absurd she is being. It's a never ending cycle they've grown comfortable with but that needs to stop. This isn't what either signed up for when they legally bound their love. If you can even call it that, it's more than clear both were pitifully lonely and disturbed.

"Are you even hearing yourself, seriously?" Doyoung sighs, offended at the implications she kept throwing at him. His thoughts may be vile and depraved when it comes to you but he's punished himself enough. Meghan doesn't seem to understand that while he now recognizes he never did love her, rather sought the affection of a mother, he was bound to honor those vows.

But he was only a man and men are weak.

Meghan has double the years of experience he does and she knows that if you ever stop seeing her with those same eyes Doyoung once saw her with and which Tina is bound to by the universe's request, and gave him free reign, he'd take the opportunity without a thought.

"No, are you hearing yourself? Better yet, do you see what you do?!" She glares, "You enable her to do whatever she wants. Parade around my home as if it was hers. Make a mess of the floorboards, lock herself with you in that stupid study, for what? Your disgusting bugs? Really, Doyoung it's odd how much time you two spend together, you don't even spend that time with your own stepdaughter, neither of you have spent time with Tina. She’s supposed to be Tina’s best friend."

Doyoung felt his frontal lobe develop for the second time in his life. Stepdaughter… Fuck, he was only thirty with a twenty-five year old stepdaughter. Does anyone see how disturbing and odd this fucking is? No, he definitely cannot stay in this for much longer.

"And you know what? Jesus, you're acting like a fucking brat yourself." She scoffs. "The longer you spend with her, the more immature you become. Genuinely, what use was it for your parents to give if you're going to act like a child." She shrugs.

"Don't even bring my parents into this, fuck off." Doyoung disturbed glares at her. "Don't fucking do that. It only seems that way because you hate when anyone is better than you. Smarter and secure than you, get a grip, Meghan. Don’t forget that I’m closer to her age than yours. I’m allowed to be childish, remember that… Don't fucking bring them up ever again."

He was right but that's exactly what she hated most.

"Honestly Meghan," Dumbfounded, Doyoung sighs, hands rubbing upon his face exhausted. "You've known Y/n longer than me. If you don't plan on trusting me, at least trust her. What kind of mother are you if you can't offer her that?"

His tone quickly twisted into condescension, the sheer feeling of being talked down upon by someone who knows nothing about life irking her furthermore and the slight consideration that gnawed at the back of her head was ultimately consumed by that twisted rotten tar in her soul.

"Well she isn't my daughter is she?" Meghan spews without thinking. "She's not my fucking daughter. Not by blood, not metaphorically, nor by law. Tina is my daughter and you know what my daughter doesn't do? Throw herself at my shithead of a husband like any other hussy does!" Her hands meet with his shoulders multiple times, abrasive like every word. No regard that those words were loud and clear for you who remained on the grass and Tina in the entertainment room with the TV on full blast. No longer able to hide and ignore like she's done all along.

Doyoung doesn't mind the contact or the harsh words towards him. What he does mind is her rejection of motherhood. Yes, she's correct to an extent, however how harsh must one be to deny the impact their motherly doting has left on a young and impressionable child? He has fairly understood your restraint and guilt after each encounter is interlaced with your respect towards Meghan and now all he can think about is how that shattering reality will affect you.

Will affect him…

It's disgust and resentment that meets Meghan— she takes it with pride. It's empathy that meets you when he turns to face you. Seeing the instant heartache aflame in your eyes and through the cracks of your chest.

Pity is what you take it as. Disturbed by such, you stand up, the walk of shame towards that stupid greenhouse his wife detests so much. A soft shut is what makes him turn back to Meghan, disdain so palpable that Tina can feel it as she peers through the window. Relenting to the reality she's been trying to avoid these months. It's odd to be a background character in something that affects her directly. She knows there's more to come and when it's done, she'll have two options, only one right answer.

Her mother or her best friend… her sister.

Their words are muffled on the further end of the greenhouse. You imagine this is what Tina would hardly hear in her slumber and it was nice to an extent. You've always admired her discipline. You can't say you admire it now, many of those arguments could have been prevented if she spoke up about her discomfort towards her mother dating a man near her age, a man that sought the affection she was given. A grieving man.

Tina was disciplined but she was also a coward just the way Meghan wanted her to be. The way Meghan wanted all of you to be. Fearing yet adoring her. Devout like a disciple to their God.

Meghan was nowhere near a God. She was closer to a pathetic haggard with no accomplishments in life besides her daughter's, living vicariously through her. She attempted to do the same with Doyoung and it may have worked for a while. She soon realized that she couldn't do such a thing with someone that's always had more opportunities than she's had.

Doyoung had two loving parents his entire life. Just like you.

Regrettably, they weren't able to be near him as much as he would have liked them to be due to their career. Just like you.

However, they provided no matter what — even in the after life — and it showed throughout the house and the love he still holds for them. Their presence is felt in the grooves of doorknobs she replaces, the carvings on the wooden doors she plans on modernizing, the stained windows she'll break, the chips on the kitchen island she will fix, the garden with horrid flamboyant flowers that are eaten away by pests, and that ghastly greenhouse with plants that pretentiously have to mean something.

There's no grasp of control in a house that is meant to exude security, love, and reassurance. No grasp if she's not the one to plant that seed.

Fortunately for you, the house welcomed you in and now you don't care how much you rub it in her face. This was meant for you and if she thought of you as the complete opposite of what she's groomed you into, you'll let the entire world know that Doyoung and everything she wanted to obtain is yours by prophecy.

"How's your foot?" The soft voice that greets you nightly approaches you, his warm fingers taking your shoulder, spinning you around and forcing the pen in your hand to drop. The solemn look on your face and the exaggerated pout makes him sigh, your shrug forcing his touch away. "Better."

Doyoung nods as a response, approaching and taking you in a tight embrace to reassure you that it was all going to be okay, that Meghan was nothing but bitter and defeated.

"I'm sorry…" He whispers against your hair, leaving kisses here and there. Your sigh, tightening his embrace. "It's not you who said it." You expel, burying your head in his chest the way your doves do. He kisses your head again, reward for such a sweet action.

"But it's my fault she did." "It doesn't matter now."

Doyoung peels away as much as he can without breaking the embrace. His eyes search yours for a hint of sadness, however all he can see is fiery anger and vindictiveness.

His hand takes your cheek, both warm and soft. "It does..." He hums, "You know it does." Eyebrows furrowed, concerned with how easily you've given it up. He knew you'd be upset but relent is not what he expected. No, he does not like this.

You pout, grip on his torso tightening to leave the feeling of your touch lingering for as long as it could. "It'll pass."

Doyoung truly didn't know how to fix this on his own, it's not his duty to do so either. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to see you upset over the words of someone so vile who did not deserve any strong emotion conveyed. Prior times he was able to pacify you with his gifts or embraces, nowadays it's been a bit harder.

"Will it?" "It has to. I'll have time to mourn later."

Mourn.

Doyoung thinks about the last time he allowed himself to mourn. He wonders if you'll follow in his footsteps and ignore it, falling in the embrace of a rancid older person who will only take advantage over the loss of a profound relationship. He doesn't want you to do that, you should seek comfort in the arms of someone who can oddly comprehend you despite the hierarchy being completely different.

It should be him.

Decidedly, Doyoung leans in, like that first night in your room. His lips don't linger above your features or your lips like last time. This time he dives in, taking your lips into his in a slow and tender kiss. You reciprocate it instantly, holding onto him for dear life, afraid to be tossed around once more.

Your lips part slightly, seeking air although inviting him further in. Doyoung moans into the kiss when your hands creep under his shirt, they're peculiarly cold for such a hot summer. Alluding to the death that floods you from Meghan's rejection. He can tell you're replaying her words over and over every time your kisses get hungrier. Tongue overlapping his and savoring him further. Fingernails raking his smooth pale back. He'd be glad to parade those pink streaks, it's the least he could do.

He wasn't far off. It's interesting how easy one can hate someone they've loved for so long. All you had in mind was punishing Meghan for what she just said. She's killed you. She's killed that little girl that looked up at her like a mother. Mother's are supposed to be nurturing and kind. But like she's said, she doesn't owe it to you. You're not her daughter, never were.

Cruel, cold, and a bitch she was. You could be that too, you've become aware of it with every cold shoulder and scowl from her. You'll be what she truly sees you as if that'll make her happy.

Men are weak, you've known this too. She's taught it to you. So why not start proving it with her husband? Giving him that chance everyone knew he awaits.

Your hands warm up the longer they roam around his torso, ripping the buttons off his shirt. He doesn't seem to care, not when it's a piece Meghan made him. "Will you make me feel better, Doie? Will you help me forget? I think we both need to forget?" You whisper against his lips, his labored breathing mixing with yours, chasing your lips as a response.

He whines like a pet being denied a treat, teased and laughed at. To satiate him, you peck his lips, nipping them and earning another whine, pleased this time. He nods fervently, his own hands grasping your body, making sure you're here with him.

Swollen lips leave open mouthed kisses along his jaw, trailing to his throat. Nipping softly at the taut skin. He hisses and gasps here and there but he never pushes you away. He takes what you give, just like you.

Thankful for such, it's time you take a bite of that apple, rotten and all.

Doyoung groans when he feels your teeth cling to his Adam's apple, fingers pressing into your own skin. His body is now cold, similar to how your hands were at the beginning, it's infectious but delicious. He needs more of whatever you give him. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

It's easy to read his mind, the way those eyes look at you, ten times more intense than before. Enough to push you into creating a trail down his torso, similar to the stream of sweat that clung to him that first day you met. This felt nice against his cold skin. The warmth of your mouth and delicacy of lust intermingled into making his groin harden. You notice the need, fingers clumsily toying with the belt buckle until it's gone.

You tease here and there, fingers clinging to the hem of his underwear, scratching above his pubic hair and making him hunch over, only stopped by the feeling of your forehead on his exposed torso, purposefully giggling to have your breath tickle his greedy skin.

"It tickles." He utters, looking down at you with blown pupils. You smile, looking up at him with wide eyes, pressing your knuckles into his skin. "Better?" You question, he grins and nods.

You use his shirt as a cushion underneath your knees, it's futile and barely aids but it's better than bare concrete. Seeing there was no use to taunt him any longer, your fingers crawl within his underwear, grasping the phallic in much need of attention. He hisses feeling your grasp, it's soft but firm, tugging him out brusquely on purpose. He liked that.

Doyoung pants, attempting to control his breathing. It's been so long since he's been touched, any time Meghan attempted he was flooded with disgust and self hatred, pushing her off when she aimed to at least kiss him. He could live with it, believing his sex drive had died before you came into the picture. But with you around the house and him 24/7, it was becoming very difficult to do anything about his increased sex drive.

"You're so hard… When's the last time you had any action?" You ask casually, hand rhythmically rocking against his shaft, thumb collecting any drop of pre-come to smear against him. He's reluctant and embarrassed to answer but your sweet smile is so convincing that he responds with a guttural moan.

"I see." You hum, kissing his tip as a reward, eliciting another moan. Masturbating in the shower was not enough. Sometimes Meghan tried to get in there with him and it would make him flaccid immediately. It seemed the only times he could ever relieve himself was in the comfort of his study. His favorite times when you and Tina took advantage of the pool and sun bathed with his research papers in hand. That excited him most, the image of you in a skimpy swimsuit in front of his window and reading his thoughts on a subject you couldn't care for as much but would take just because it was made by him. You took anything he gave you.

The memory alone made him twitch in your hand, a giggle leaving your pretty lips. Like this, he would get so much harder like this. "I get it, Doie. I won't stall any longer." You relent, leaning further to take him in your mouth. The damp and warm cavity force a moan out of his own, holding onto your hair as he throws his head back. Fuck, he's been craving this for so long.

Doyoung feels his ears ring. His own breathing along the squelching of your throat floods them. He thinks this is heaven, although he doubts an act like this would allow any of you in. Right, it wouldn't. Not after you both submit to the temptation of forbidden fruit. But it's better this way, what fun is there in being a garden when you can't have what makes you feel good? Even if it is a sin.

He relishes in the feeling of your mouth around him, head bobbing on its own despite your free hand giving him permission to push as much as he wants. Your tongue swirls around his cock, pressing firmly against the veins and dancing around the rest. It tickles, but he's sure you're aware. It is your favorite game after all.

He looks as pretty as the first day you met him. Beads of sweat rolling down his face, forcing his hair to frame and emphasize those pretty features of his. His ragged moans sound like those of an angel, pushing you further down his cock. It feels suffocating, he's not as girthy but he is long and it makes it much harder to push through. Even so, you want to be good for him, you've always wanted to be. This forces you to push through, gagging a few times but persevering until your nose hits his pubic bone.

Doyoung feels elated at this new found feeling. Your throat is so tight and warm, it feels like a reward for all he's endured. Sadly for him, it's torn apart, gifting him with an image of you teary eyed, gasping for air and a mixture of come and spit threading you both. He couldn't think he could get any more hard but this image alone makes him spurt pre-come onto your chin.

You give him a quick glance, smiling sweetly at him. "Close?" You ask, "You can come in my mouth, Doie." You utter, leaning in to take him in. He closes his eyes feeling your mouth around him again, dizzy and seeing stars. He feels the breeze enter from the windows of the greenhouse, whirling around you both. He finds that his body is no longer cold, it's scorching as yours.

Doyoung didn't think he could be so overstimulated before coming, it may be with the fact that he hasn't been touched for so long or how one of your hands clutches his into your hair, yanking to feel arousal from the sting. He swears can see a bead of your wetness roll down your leg when he looks down at you, cursing and bucking forward.

It hurts, you won't lie but that is exactly what made you keep taking him and pulling back out. The strain against your throat elating until he finally took it within himself to do as you wanted. His jutting forward with a harsh grasp on your hair, fucking your face and forcing you to gag while one of your hands plays with his testicles, only pushing him to go faster. Your other hand pushing aside your soiled panties and playing with your clit. It's a slick sticky mess, uncomfortable at best but the feeling alone does enough for you.

Doyoung mutters curses here and there. Pretty words too which you receive with moans that make him increase the pace. Both of his hands are on your hair when he finally feels himself spill in your mouth. His moan is so loud you wouldn't doubt that anyone outside of the greenhouse could hear him. You squeal, taken by surprise and also feeling yourself suffocate. Even when he's still inside of you, some of his come spills from the sides of your mouth, rushing out like water from a broken dam when he rips himself apart from you.

He feels out of it, trying to calm himself after such an intense orgasm as you are. Head thrown back, gasping for air without spilling any come still in your mouth. When you think you're stable enough, he helps you up. Kissing your soiled cheeks and licking his lips to savor himself. The image makes your pupils dilate. Taking himself in like it was melted ice cream, without a care. No one is as receptive to taste themselves but he was.

You hadn't come yet, and this image only made you want to reach that high more and more. Doyoung cluelessly smiles at you, appreciative of what you've done. It's wiped away when you take his face into your hands, kissing him. Instinctively, his lips part, allowing you to push his own cum into his mouth from yours. He's taken aback but weirdly aroused.

Narcissistic, egocentric, or whatever anyone wants to call it. It does not change the fact that Doyoung immediately hardens at the taste of himself mixed with the taste of your spit. The sweet tones of the lingering chocolate you two ate with the saltiness of his orgasm. Similar to a disgusting and corrupted salted caramel dark chocolate. It's not for everyone but it is meant for you two.

Hastily, he helps you up on the data table. Pulling down your wet panties and rubbing them along his hard and aching cock. He moans into the kiss, ragged and needy while he jerks himself off to increase the feeling. His tongue mingling with yours, swirling his come around both your mouths until it becomes warmer and lesser.

Fingers intertwined in your hair, tugging to hear more of you. Desire to hear more and more leads to shaking nimble fingers to trail the inside of your thighs. He smiles into the kiss feeling the scorching warmth within. Claiming and begging to be touched. He's no cruel man, not all the time at least, so he grants you this reward after all the ones you've given him.

Slowly, his ring and middle finger enter you easily with the slickness he's caused. The intrusion causes you to moan against his mouth this time, giving him the advantage to nip your tongue. It doesn't take Doyoung long to allow his fingers to move within you, pumping relentlessly to hear your pretty sounds. Guttural with the remaining come you two interchange.

You've always thought he had pretty fingers, since you met. Purposefully scraping yourself and staining your feet with grass to have him touch you. Nimble, long, and delicate enough to curl within your walls and cause a shiver down your spine. With the length, it doesn't take him long to reach your sweet spot. His pistoning motion and curl forcing cries and withering beneath him. Doyoung isn't as cruel or sadistic but this… he can understand why sadism exists.

Your legs don't seize to shake, a sheer layer of perspiration coating your body and face. He needs to let you finish, he just has to. It's not long until your body gives out, you need this or you'll probably pass out on this table alone.

But Doyoung allows himself to indulge that sadism he's contemplated for the past few minutes – enjoying his contradiction on cruelty. Halting his moves and ripping his hand away, taking the last drop of remaining come into his mouth to greet you with a cheshire grin as you look at him in surprise and betrayal. Every nerve in your body stings you left and right, punishing and taunting you for the lost glory.

"What the actual fuck?!" You gasp, looking at him, panting harshly with a body ready to explore from heat and desire.

He doesn't respond, letting the come and his spit trickle down to his glowing red cock, slacks and underwear pooled around his ankles. Now that his mouth is free, he chuckles. "Had to save some for lube." He shrugs, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your cheek reassuringly, rubbing the come around him until he pushes within you. It feels different than his fingers and your mouth for the both of you. Surely, nothing will ever be as good as the actual thing.

Doyoung doesn't move just yet. Allowing you to get comfortable while he contemplates on whether you should leave the red gingham dress on. It's too pretty and he was there when you made it. Meghan had hated when you told her he allowed you to use his mother's machine and fabric. She hated that you were taking over her on her own craft.

Hm… yes, just for that he'll let you keep it on.

"Come on, Doie… Fuck me as hard as you can." You lean in, whispering against his ear, biting his earlobe. That was enough incentive for Doyoung to begin thrusting. It's slow but hard at first, setting the pace. It doesn't take long for him to quicken it, increasing your moans with it. You hold onto him tightly as he pounds into you. So deep into the pleasure of being full again that neither of you speak.

Legs pushed wide open against the table, his glute muscles flexing with every hard stroke. He kisses you here and there, licking away the beads of sweat from your neck like a starved animal in need of more.

The taste of your skin drives him insane, nipping and licking until he reaches your breasts. Pushing down the fabric of the dress to take one into his mouth. Engulfing it, harsh suction that leaves you wanting more. His teeth aren't as kind to your nipples but you don't mind as long as he is well fed. As long as you're able to please him.

"You feel so good, Y/n… I won't ever be able to get enough of you." He pants, thrusts hardening, hips swiveling to get closer to you, enough that his pubic bone creates friction against your needy clit. That intensifies the feeling that pushes you further into an orgasm. Doyoung feels it when you squeeze around him and moan his name like a mantra, pulling at his hair like he's done to yours.

"Please… I've been good. Please, let me come, Doie." You beg, implore. You couldn't handle it any longer. He's come once before, when this is finished, he'll have two orgasms. Yet all you have is aching, an overdue orgasm that will knock you out soon if you don't release it.

Pretending to ponder your prayer as he harshly pounds into you, lips consuming yours. Tongue gracing yours in search for a sliver of his come's taste still lingering within you. It's not as evident as before but he eventually finds it, smiling into the kiss and nodding.

"Let it go, baby." He croons, shushes leaving his lips as he keeps fucking you. His permission setting your body free that each thrust makes you feel so sensitive and it's not until he reverts back to those initial harsh and deep thrusts that you squeal and moan loudly. Clinging to his body for dear life while your legs spasm and come around him. The image sends him into his own orgasm. Feeling your body tremble against his while you cry out in pleasure from something he's caused. It's beautiful and if possible, he'd have you as the main piece with those pretty red ribbons you love so much on your hair, surrounded by his taxidermy as the main attraction because you're precious enough to preserve.

The thought peeves him but he won't dwell, not when you still feel so warm and good around his spent cock.

"Has she ever made you come this much?" You ask between giggles, looking at the pool of cum seeping into the wooden table and dripping onto the concrete floor. Doyoung groans remembering his reality. "No. I don't even touch her, why do you think there's so much?" He glowers, shaking his head in the process. "I don't want to think about her. Not now… with you so pretty and open for me." He grins, leaning in for a kiss.

You hum against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. "All this come for me?" You question sweetly, faking naivety, he nods, a light chuckle. "Only you have made me feel so alive and hot." He utters, burying his face in your chest, kissing your tits slowly.

A content sigh leaves you, eyelids fluttering, a malicious grin when you look forward.

There she is, five feet away with a dull and dead look on her face, Meghan.

"I bet." 

taglist: @ant-onie @cookydream @luv4rj @bacons-thighs @ilikekpop-c @valentinetown @bluedbliss @shiningnono @parkitonandy @the-universe-in-you-jjh @slut4hee @yukisroom97 @ddolbyong @bananinhazz @weiweific @sugaringgcaramel @sweetdreamczennie @revlada @shadysnoopyy @neostraytiny @suhwife @the-divine-femme-fatale @flaminghotyourmom @fatbixchwithanopinion @mi1kteaa @deny4l4 @aliexsblog

cant tag: @junmyeonssushi @moonlitmousee @ks1ut @kyungsooislifeu @hwangful @toodleeee @squishysweetricecake @numberoneprincessenthusiast

feel free to join the immoral tales taglist, form in anthology masterlist! ☆

[cod-dump]

Step dad Graves is so so funny. Especially if they’re close in age and both secretly love it whilst putting up a fuss. Let Ghost collect father figures and Graves get to impart knowledge . Let Graves hate it at first then get some Ghost lore and be like “…I’m not your stepdad I’m only 6 years older than you…… what do you mean you never had a birthday cake…… what do you mean you were made to laugh at a dying prostitute…… “well guess I’m getting this man a skull cake and we’re playing catch in the yard

The more Graves learned about Ghost the harder it was to pretend he didn’t like him.

They were barely friendly when they worked together going after Hassan and Graves’ betrayal ruined whatever that was. Graves cutting ties with Shepherd and fully working with 141 (to atone for his past and right wrongs all while being able to still work) Ghost had greeted him with much expected hostility.

And Graves responded with indifference. He figured things would stay that way, Ghost would never let go what happened and Graves would never show any care for the man beyond comrades. But then Graves started learning bits and pieces about him, the longer they were around each other the more Ghost started to start talking to him with actual conversations instead of threats. That’s how Graves learned about his fear of snakes. The Ghost, the man who would pick up a fucking spider bare handed, an animal lover to the core, was terrified of snakes.

Graves discovered this during a mission together. They had spent that time in that forest in almost complete silence, waiting for Price to give them the go ahead, when the fearsome Ghost jolted where he laid, flinging something into the bushes nearby before moving away from the spot he had laid in without even moving an inch for two hours.

“Fucking devilish bitch!”

Graves saw the tail end of a snake darting away, and that was when he learned about Ghost’s fear. And that would open up to him learning a lot more about Ghost, more than he ever imagined due to their not so friendly work environment. He, of course, originally was going to taunt Ghost over his rather surprising fear, planning to exploit it until it was no longer effective.

But, of course, he would learn something else related to the snake. Ghost seemingly was deep in his mind after running in with the limbless creature, and he offered up a explanation for his irrational fear (irrational considering all the other creatures he adores).

“Old man liked to force them in my face. Thought how I squirmed was hilarious.”

And just like that, after that piece of information was processed, Ghost didn’t say another word. Graves was left with that piece of history involving Ghost he never expected to learn, let alone from Ghost himself. And after that, Ghost seemed to open up to him more. Graves would like to think he heard himself some leeway with Ghost by not going through with his original intentions on teasing him. It was the only thing that made sense as to why Ghost was starting to warm up to him.

Warming up to him to the point he was willingly offering up more of his lore.

“Don’t like crowds, especially not in dark places.”

He dropped that on another mission, completely unprompted. It was a mutter just for Graves to hear, even though Gaz wasn’t far away. That made something stir within him, something about Ghost just telling him something instead of a man who he is considerably much closer with. And that slight tug of his heart strings became pulling when he learned why he didn’t like crowds. And his old man was behind the reason as well.

The more Graves learned about Ghost, the more he hated his probably long dead father. There was a twisted similarity to Mr. Riley and Graves’ own father. And that just made him become protective of Ghost. He started treating Ghost like he did his Shadows. He was pretty much Shadow materiel with skill and efficiency, but now he was a Shadow to Graves because of what he went through.

Graves had a type he went for when recruiting Shadows. He looked for skill, experience, attitude — But he also looked at their history. He has a soft spot for those with bad home lives, made him feel more connected with them. If he was looking over Ghost’s records with the intention of recruiting him into Shadow Company, man would’ve been a Shadow after he learned about Roba.

“Since when are you two friends?” Soap had questioned, Graves noticing the jealousy in his voice but also the curiosity.

“I can understand his accent better,” Ghost jabbed at Soap, his eyes squinting slightly to show he was smiling under his mask.

Soap made a very insulted gasp, “Oh, is that so?”

Graves felt at place finally, standing next to Ghost as he and Soap bickered. It turned playful rather quickly and Graves felt more at ease next to Soap than he had since they first met. And, dare he even think it, Ghost felt comfortable standing next to him. Finally opening up, finally dropping his metaphorical mask of hostility (Graves doubts he’ll take off his actual mask any time soon).

And, of course Price noticed. He noticed a while back, Graves knows he had. Man knows anything that has to do with his boys, especially Ghost. He hadn’t said a word, never hinted in any way to show he knew. He just acted like it had always been. It was like he wasn’t even surprised. Goes to show he knew Ghost was better than anyone.

“Good to see you two finally getting along,” Price said to Graves one evening, the two had long retired to bed while the boys stayed up playing cards (not UNO, they would be enemies before morning and it would take a few days to get them to drop the pettiness).

Graves hummed, taking a moment to realize what Price was talking about. He didn’t expect him to say anything without Graves mentioning it first.

“We’re tolerating each other.”

Price hummed back, slight smirk on his lips. He knew. He knew that Graves considers Ghost as one of his Shadows. As one of his boys.

[diejager]

I HAVE A (kinda) stepdad!König+DBF!Horangi

so it was a while ago but I reealllyyyy liked the one u did where reader’s sort of hooking up w/ soap and ghost on the side?? If u remember that

I was wondering if you could do a story where they’re sort of just hooking up occasionally (as often as reader can get away) but clearly both the boy like them and want to further it but she’s worried about König and Horangi finding out.

pretty much they notice her exhibiting really weird behaviors in and out of bed towards them?? She’ll freak out if they approach her a specific way (not knowing König and Horangi take advantage of her that way) or sort of doesn’t rly care about her own pleasure cuz she’s sacrificing it for theirs…just sort of stuff that makes Soap and Ghost go “uhhh 🧍🧍‍♂️that’s kinda weird innit” (they’re presenting traits of being groomed/manipulated/raped/etc)

anyways somehow Soap and Ghost find out ab what’s going on at home and….yeah they’re not happy 😬😬

Thank you for your consideration!!!

— 🌘 !

Cw: DARKFIC, STEPCEST, DUB-CON/NON-CON, implied smut, abuse, implied kidnapping, possessive behaviour, implied one night stand, implied crush, kinda poly, tell if I missed any.

They weren’t saints. If anything, they were the farthest thing possible from good-natured men, with kind hearts and sound morals. Ghost and Soap were sick men, soaked in bloodshed and tragedy, gunpowder and tears, they weren’t good men, they were simply men doing another’s dirty work to keep the world safer. They’d seen their fair share of filth on this earth, the most depraved and savage monsters that found pleasure in plundering and killing, covert crimes done under the nose of most civilians, and hushed exchanges for prizes. They, themselves, have committed unforgettable and unforgivable acts, torture, murders, arson, and so, so much regrettable things that would forever scar their victims.

But this- your situation was gut-wrenching, in a way that twisted their guts and made their throats tight, deathly silent in the brewing rage. From Simon, who had an abusive up-bringing and torturous life, morals and ethics twisted beyond normalcy and comprehension; to Johnny, who’s busybody life turned darker and darker with every life he’s taken, bodies piling over bodies, a permanent reminder that he wasn’t the same bright-eyed and goodwilling saint he was when he first enlisted. 

They were mad: Simon enraptured in wrath, burning hotter than hell’s fire, whose rage rivaled one of God; and Johnny bubbled with rage, running through his veins like rivers of magma, scorching everything on his path to ash and rock. They were enraged to see the way you were used and forced into a new purpose by older men —much, much older men that they knew. Whereas Simon seethed silently, Johnny screeched loudly, words stumbling in a crazed frenzy.

It just- it simply wasn’t a good-natured frenzy. Ghost and Soap were not good men. It stemmed from jealousy and emotional possession. The many dates that you’d suddenly canceled, calling in a rain check that they had listened, were because you’d been fucked numb, legs too weak to walk or support you, tied to your bed or filled with another man’s cum. How rarely they met you outside of simple bar nights with your girlfriends before you’d hookup with them for the night until you had to leave. Or your reoccurring bruises, hidden under the clear lie of being clumsy, a white lie, truly, but a lie nonetheless and they hated liars. 

And the worse thing, the one that hits the most, was that you were being fucked, and abused, and taken advantage of by men they constantly butted heads with. Once enemies, always enemies. They didn’t forgive or forget in their business, and their rivalry would continue until one or the other had died. Ghost would plan, scheme your taking and Soap would take care of you, a man much softer than his rough hide. Soap would gently introduce you into your new life, and if it does work, then Ghost would have to step in, eyes dark and heart frozen over. 

You’d eventually like living with them. At least you liked them.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess @maylovesyousomuch @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

[angelplummie]

thinking about stepdad armin……

cw: stepcest, age gap, contemplating cheating, sexual imagery, horniness

masterlist part 2

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you think you’re home alone. or rather, you thought you were home alone. because now you’re completely naked in the hall of your childhood home, staring into baby blue eyes. they’re blown wide open as he looks down and then right back up. pink erupts under his skin and he opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him. wet hair leaving water stains on the carpet, you run back into the bathroom and slam the door closed.

great. you just got home from summer vacation at your uni yesterday, and now it’s going to be awkward for the rest of the two months. you really really thought you were home alone, you thought they were at work. but you’d done it now. blood burnt your cheeks and embarrassment broiled in your stomach.

you did have to admit, your mum’s boyfriend was handsome, you’d thought so ever since you met a year ago. he looked a lot younger than he was, but the maturity with which he carried himself gave him away. he was always put together, refined. he wore silver rings on his slender fingers that you could never keep your eyes away from. he wore timeless clothes that screamed a contemporary elegance. he was always warm and kind and seemed to really want to get to know you. even if it was nothing more than a gesture to your mother, you appreciated it. he would always remember things you had told him in your last visit, always knew the right thing to say. he was so much better than boys your age, so much more real, more developed and solidified. he made you feel safe, made you want to please him. maybe it was because he was just ten years older than you, as he was considerably younger than your mother, you had always felt a certain connection to him. their relationship seemed to have progressed so fast, and you tried to suppress your jealousy, tried to make yourself forget it was ever there. but it was. and now you were even more embarrassed.

but aside from embarrassment, you couldn’t help the throb of your clit, the heavy wet feeling between your pussy lips. he had seen you, all of you. what was he thinking right now? you’re a pretty girl with a pretty body, he can’t be neutral to you right? you had wondered if he thought you were pretty, if he was attracted to you. if really deep down he wanted you. sometimes hugs would be tight and you would hear him inhale in your hair, looks would linger. he touched you unnecessarily, on the knee, on the shoulder, kisses on cheeks. he would take you out to eat, just one on one. your mother loved it, thought it was so sweet of him to make the effort. it made you squirm inside. maybe he was just friendly, maybe you were a crazy little girl, impassioned by the slightest attention.

but maybe he wanted you as much as you wanted him. maybe he wanted you more.

you imagined him on the other side of the door still red faced and flustered, hard in his pants. you imagined it straining against his jeans, his boxers. you imagined him taking it out and you imagined the tip dribbling precum. you pussy spasmed at the thought, the very idea that he wants you.

but now you needed to think rationally, you need to be a big girl. what would someone that didn’t want to fuck their new stepdad do?

you grab a towel, rush back into your room. creaking from around the house told you he was still home, probably feeling too embarrassed to approach you about things. you quickly dry off and get dressed before shooting armin a text that reads:

hi i’m really really sorry about that!! i thought i was home alone but still i should’ve been more cautious. i hope i didn’t mentally scar you 😭

perfect, you thought. it was friendly and normal and completely denied the idea that you thought about him thinking about you in any other way than paternally. which you hoped he did, in a yucky wrong sort of way. you hoped he did view you as something to protect, something that was his in some way. you wish the guilt and repulsion of this realisation made it go away, but it didn’t.

luckily for you, armin was in shambles in the exact way you wanted him to be. after pacing his bedroom for five minutes and he waited for you to leave the bathroom, he had gone downstairs to busy himself with cooking something. as an apology maybe, but mainly to take his mind off what he was never supposed to think about. what he couldn’t get out of his head.

before, it was a benign attraction. a want, not a need. he saw you, watched you. you’re a beautiful girl, it doesn’t make him a pervert to see that. and you’re such a sweet girl, such a good daughter. you were always giggly with him, always receptive. you made him want to be sweet and kind and warm, made him want to take care of you, whether you need it or not. so what if when he got the chance he was a little affectionate? aren’t all good father figures? bear hugs and reassuring squeezes, kisses on cheeks, that’s nothing! he loves your mother, she has her charms in her own little way.

but he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about it, the big it he couldn’t get over. he thought about what you would feel like, what those ever-glossed lips would feel like pressing against his skin. wrapped around his cock. he imagined those big doe eyes watering for him, choking on his cock, or, an even more dangerous thought, whimpering at the stretch in your tight young pussy. the thought of you and your insides plagued him, but he had managed to convince himself it was nothing. that he loved your mother really, and maybe it more of a compliment to her, since you look so alike.

but now, that has all gone out of the window.

how couldn’t it? now that he knew, knew with 100% certainty that your body was just as he had imagined, what could he do? cock aching with want, he sighed for the tenth time in 20 minutes and distractedly chopped potatoes. now he knew your tits were just as jiggly as he imagined, knew how soft you really were, knew you didn’t shave. he knew how sweet your little bush looked, so natural and untouched. he wondered if you’d ever been touched by a man before, but he shook the idea from his head.

he was a bad, bad man. but that didn’t mean he could stop these thoughts.

armin hears his phone ping on the kitchen counter, and takes it in shaking hands. he reads your message, stepping away from the cutting board and rubbing his forehead. what a sweet girl, he thinks. before he can stop thinking, he thinks more. what it would be like to bend your soft body to his will, to feel the undoubtably tight grip of your wet hole. would you still be his sweet girl then? he replies:

no worries at all, i should have made my presence known xx

he sends it with an eleventh sigh, and distractedly returns to his cooking.

in your bedroom, your heart pounds as you see the notification of his text.

oh.

why are you disappointed?

no really, why?

he was sweet and generous and lovely as usual, what were you disappointed about?

a dark cloud forms in your belly, and you know why. it’s because he didn’t reply to the last part of your message. the part you wanted him to reply to the very most. you wanted him to, at the very least, reply to it, acknowledge the absurdity of him being scarred by a body like yours. it’s self deprecating, it demands a rebuttal.

you react with a heart to his message and turn off your phone with a sigh.

maybe he really doesn’t want you, maybe it has been all in your head. it’s a possibility, you suppose. how awful are you, thinking about your mothers boyfriend like this? you’re terrible, a horrible girl. she’s happy. shes happy with him, and after everything with your father, that’s what you want for her.

that was it then. you really would never have him. that was it. forget about it. now.

but he isn’t forgetting about, not at all. he’s still staring at where you liked the message, allowing the water he was boiling to spill over before he turns down the heat. he can’t forget now. how is he doing to cope? two months of you, how was he going to keep this under wraps? even now, he feels tense knowing you’re upstairs, in nothing more than a towel. he knows the smell of your body wash, your conditioner, he knows exactly what your skin would taste like. he knows what your nipples look like, can imagine how it would feel to squeeze your doughy breast.

he feels desperate, clawing out for something he doesn’t understand. he doesn’t want to stop talking to you. he knows he needs to. he has to leave you alone as much as he can, for the sake of these two months. but he doesn’t want to.

so, serval minutes after his first message, he messages you again.

your butterflies swarm your stomach and you suppress a squeal in case he might hear you as your phone lights up again.

you open it immediately, far past caring what it says that you were so quick to read it. the message reads:

and trust me, i’m far from scarred xx

｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+*ﾟ

a/n: i will make a part 2 asap but i need to get this out in the world or i’ll die. reblog if you enjoyed!!

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

yo i hope your requests are open?

could i have a chubby reader with her stepdad’s friends who all want her? like she’s in college and they’re offering to cover her, they take her clothes shopping, etc

thanks <3

Been stewing on this for a bit—

CW: chubby fem reader, older men, smut

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Alright alright, let's set the scene

Your parent gets remarried while you're at college, and you're fine with that. You've known your new stepdad since he started dating your parent in high school, he's a real stand-up guy and you respect each other. He's been nothing but kind to you and always given you space and freedom.

You don't even meet his friends until you come back from college one summer break.

They're all around his age, 30s and 40s, older than you by a decade or more. You don't meet them until your stepdad hosts a barbeque. Your parents insist that you attend, so you do, suspecting you'll have to answer lots of questions from your older neighbors. You wear a cute two piece outfit, a floral off the shoulder top and a solid colored tennis skirt. You don't think much of it, but you realize during the party that you probably should've worn something more conservative.

Your stepdad's friends? Oh, they're lewd. They're not normally like this, but something about seeing your soft plush curves on display has them itching to get their hands on you. They grab some beers and crowd around you, asking about college, if you're having fun, if you have a boyfriend. You're polite, but you can feel them staring at every inch of you, peeking down your crop top and at your exposed belly. You're not used to this type of attention, so you just assume they're trying to be nice, to humor you with their stares.

Oh, if only you knew what they were thinking. If only you knew that while they were standing beside your stepdad at the grill, all they could focus on was how you bent over to grab a drink out of the cooler, your skirt riding up your thighs. They imagined flipping up your skirt and finding soaked panties underneath, ripping off the flimsy fabric and slipping their cock into your wet heat. They couldn't stop imagining how your chubby pussy lips would cling to their cock, the base covered in creamy cum as you spasmed around them, your moans high pitched and whiny. Several of them had to excuse themselves to the bathroom to calm down, but it barely worked since all they'd do when they came back was stare at you. They're disappointed when you eventually leave the barbeque and escape to your room, but they know they'll see you again.

Not even a week later, they're over at your house watching a game with your stepdad. You're roaming around the house in an oversized shirt and boxers, and these men are practically salivating at the sight of you. They fantasize that you're wearing their clothes after a lovely night of sex. They talk to you when you come downstairs for a snack, meeting you in the kitchen to "grab another beer", asking you what you're up to on your day off. You're polite and humor their questions, trying to ignore the subtle flexing of their muscles. You think nothing of their attention, soon teetering off to your room again to watch TV, much to their disappointment. They wish you could sit on their lap while they watch TV, hands roaming your plump frame while they nurse a beer. Perhaps another time.

They keep showing up at your house over the summer, usually on the weekend. They're always so nice to you, giving you all their attention when you enter the room. And they even start helping you out! When your car broke down and you had to go to work, one of them drove you to your job while the others stayed behind and fixed your vehicle. When you wanted to go shopping and didn't have anyone to go with, they took you to some plus-size friendly shops and even paid for your clothes. When your date stood you up and left you all alone, gussied up with nowhere to go, they practically fought each other for the chance to take you someplace nice (ultimately, they ended up just cooking for you at home and watching a movie after).

It's safe to say that they're all head over heels for you. They're all single, either never been married or divorced, but they wanna change that. They want to have a pretty lil thing like you by their side, hanging onto them, letting them spoil you. They wanna fuck you senseless, in every position you can imagine, in the bedroom, living room, shower, even the kitchen. They want to worship you the way you deserve, and they jerk off almost nightly to the thought of you.

Imagine their disappointment when the summer ends and you have to go back to school. They see you off, helping load your things into your car. They each give you their number in case of emergency and your parents aren't available, but they hope it could lead to more. They sadly watch you drive away, feeling their hearts break as your car disappears. They go home gloomy and depressed, already missing their plump ball of sunshine.

Imagine their joy when you text them that night and say that you miss them.

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[karticatyt]

Next gen AU character roster!! This is mostly just an attempt to practice formatting posts and figure out how to use this app um ANYWAY

(heads up, this won’t be extremely in depth about lore or backstories, just simple introductions!)

This is the main roster in a row next to each other, along with their ages. Some of the art here is older than others… I’ll explain them in some more detail.

This here is Amber Gleam and her sister, Comet Trail! Long story short, Amber’s ‘real’ name is Cicada, and she is actually an adopted changeling, raised by Princess Twilight and later on her stepdad, Sunburst. Comet is her younger sister. Comet is competing with their cousin, Flurry Heart for royal guard status. I’ll talk more about Flurry later. Amber has been raised in the shadows for most of her life to hide her identity, which has led to issues socializing as well as a harsh reputation among the public as opposed to her sister.

Racing Heart isn’t actually the offspring of any canon characters, but she is an old OC that I love too much to remove, so she’s a part of my AU because she can. She’s a hopeless romantic lesbian who constantly crushes on all kinds of characters, but her eye is primarily set on Cotton Bow, who I’ll talk about next. I accidentally made her with lesbian colors back in 5th grade… I didn’t even know the word lesbian… wow…

Cotton Bow is the daughter of Mayor Diamond Tiara and Pipsqueak. She is best friends with Amber and they both bond over the issues that come from being the daughters of well known political figures and just wanting to be average, normal ponies. Although, Cotton doesn’t know about Cicada’s secret. Cotton’s special talent is knitting/crocheting (to her parents’ dismay) and she’s an introvert who doesn’t want to follow her family’s legacy.

Koi Concord is the son of Discord and Fluttershy. He has some powers from his father but they mainly remain limited to nature. He obtained his mother’s ability to speak to animals, but his favorites are sea creatures. He spends majority of his time swimming in rivers and creeks with little fishy friends, and keeps to himself for the most part. (Amber doesn’t like him very much as she deems his introversion as a waste of his ability to coexist with ponies as a mix breed/foreign species unbothered, unlike her who has to stay a secret)

Marigold Peaberry! The daughter of Rarity and Joe, she actually was really difficult to make a solid design for because I made her before picking her parents and then I had to redesign her to make her look related… it was a whole mess. She still doesn’t really have any personality or official role in the story.

Now we’re getting into old art territory… Startrix have 2 kids! Epitome Dusk and her brother Jinx Nightfall. Jinx is magically disabled and cannot use his horn without causing any accidents.This made his family incredibly heartbroken, but they all love him nonetheless. I imagine that these two hang out with Concord the most, since he’s the youngest of my next gen main characters.

Now time for Flurry! In my next gen AU, they are actually nonbinary and are dating Luster Dawn! I had a little bit of a poll/vote among my friends over if Luster should have been with Flutty or Comet and Flurry won! They don’t have a large role.

You might be wondering why that purple one at the end of the roster hasn’t appeared, and that’s because they aren’t canon. at least, I haven’t decided if they should be or not. Sunrise is a next gen for pinkiedash, but they’re merely a design concept for now. I’ll probably answer any questions people have about these guys if i have any answers. i doubt i’ll be getting any for a WHILE.

[jokeringcutio]

Reader & Stepbrother Stu Macher & Stepfather William Afton “Suspicious Ads” 👀

Fandoms: FFNAF & Scream.

Implied Reader x Stepdad William Afton, Implied Reader x Stepbrother Stu Macher.

Mature due to themes. No explicit Smut. Contains Humor.

[ for More x ] [ Follow me ]

The living room was quiet except for the sound of William's pencil scratching against paper as he worked on a blueprint at the table. You were slouched on the couch, scrolling through fanfiction on your phone, the blue of the screen lightening up your face.

"Seriously, Dad?” Stu's voice cut through the silence like the jarring chime of an unwelcome notification. He sounded way too excited. The door had barely clicked shut behind him before he was at William's side, his phone thrust accusingly toward the older man.

"Isn't her mom enough for you?" Now this caught your attention and you carefully glanced up from your phone to see the encounter play out in front of you.

Stu stood tall next to his father, William, who was still hunched over the blueprint. Despite the accusing tone of Stu’s words, you could see that he was carrying a smirk. As if he were enjoying this. Which was never a good sign. "Or are you still a horny beast in your old age?"

Ah. Too much information.

You quickly pretended to cast your attention back to your phone, but continuing the story seemed to have become impossible now. What had Stu come across that would prompt him to say such a thing? You were still listening in. Not that you wanted to.

"I don’t want to know what you’re up to that give me these specific ads," Stu continued, swiping a finger past his phone. “But I am not interested in finding older women in my area to bang.”

You flinched.

Inwardly, you complimented your stepdad for his lack of reaction to his son’s words. William's face remained stoic, his eyes never leaving the blueprint. He took the accusations without flinching. While Stu leaned in, a sultry smile on his face.

"I bet you're browsing things online again."

Finally, William’s blue eyes darted from the paper and slowly traced up his son. But still, no answer came.

You were holding your breath at this point, feeling the tension in the room.

“I know,” Stu said, shrugging as he deliberately added more oil to the fire. “Old pussy’s better than no pussy at all, they say. But you really need to get your searches in check before any of the ladies in our household get to see these. We’re all on the same IP and man… These ads. They’re brutal.”

William just watched him stoically, not rising to the bait. But you could see a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. It was unnerving, the way he silently absorbed the jab, the corners of his mouth betraying neither smile nor scowl.

Focus on your fic again. Come on now, you told yourself, forcing your eyes away from the scene.

"I think you’ll find these are basic ads. They’re provided when you block all cookies and won't allow them to keep track of your browser history. Internet will automatically assume you are a male interested in sex."

"Stu."

You jumped when your stepdad suddenly spoke. It came so unexpectedly. His voice was even, his blue eyes sternly fixed upon his son.

That shut your stepbrother up. You saw the gleam in Stu’s eyes as he tried to think of something witty to say, but nothing came. Nothing that could beat his father’s reasoning anyway.

“Sure, Dad,” Stu finally said with a wink, trying to save his grace. He finally lowered his phone, putting it inside his pocket as he stepped away from his father. William turned back to his paper, eyes already cast on the drawing he was working on while he leaned on his exposed elbows – the sleeves pushed up while he worked.

“At least, I take it you switched your search history off…” You had to suppress a chuckle when you heard your stepdad say that so casually to Stu. The jab was obvious. As expected, your stepbrother flushed a bright red. He probably hadn’t blocked any cookies or adjusted any settings to stop his data collecting at all.

“Are you chuckling?” you heard, and looked up in surprise to find Stu was suddenly next to the couch, looking down at you.

Fuck. He’d caught onto your eavesdropping.

“Just reading a funny story,” you swiftly replied, silently patting your shoulder for the way you quickly composed yourself.

That mental pat suddenly became a lot more real.

A warm hand surprised you as Stu leaned over you to glance at your phone. His fingers were on your shoulder, gently digging into your skin, while his breath was hot upon you as he leaned over you to catch a glimpse of your screen. The small letters were thankfully not too explicit, so you didn’t have to feel too ashamed.

He was silent for a moment, clearly reading along. Then you heard him chuckle softly.

"Careful not to fall into that screen," he teased, voice low, a whisper meant for your ears alone. “Apparently, there are older women there. And they only want one thing.”

You barely lifted your gaze from the glow of your phone, but you couldn't ignore the warmth spreading where his hand rested firmly on your shoulder. A tingling teased your core.

"Wouldn't dream of it," you murmured, your response automatic, heart betraying you with a traitorous skip. The faint pressure of his fingers imprinted on your skin, an invisible brand. Then his touch was gone.

He chuckled, walking away, the sound receding with each step until the front door sealed his departure with a soft click.

But you had felt the soft squeeze he gave you before he had let go. And wasn’t that something?

Why did it make your heart beat so loudly in your chest?

Your eyes flitted up to the now-closed door, but of course, he was no longer there. Stu had left. Behind you, you heard your stepdad shift. The rustling of the paper between his fingers, the way his shoes moved against the wooden floorboards. You turned your head to see what he was up to.

William expelled a deep sigh. His chair scraped against the wood floor, the sound abrasive, as he stood and turned toward you.

"Those ads," he began, voice a low rumble, "I assure you that I have never looked something like that up."

How sweet, you thought, that he tried to assure you he wouldn’t go around your mom’s back like that. You sat up on the couch, no longer slouching, and gave him your full attention.

"Really?" you asked, feigning nonchalance.

His footsteps approached, measured and certain. The distance between you shrank with an almost indecent intimacy. Now that was… different. You blinked up at him as he towered over you. Your pulse hammered in your throat, a frantic drummer setting the pace for this dangerous dance.

"Indeed." His silhouette loomed over you, casting you in a cool shadow. "My tastes run...”

Here he paused, his blue eyes deliberately raking over you until you felt it deep in your core. The implication. But surely not? Surely, he wouldn’t even consider…

“Younger." The words slithered through the air, filled with intent. His eyes locked onto yours, blue ice that seared straight through to your womb, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"I’m fetching something to drink," the switch to such a casual comment came so unexpectedly, that you sat there, shaken to the core. Had you misinterpreted him?

“Can I get you something?” he asked, a thread of politeness woven into his husky tone.

"Water," you managed to say, voice barely above a whisper. "Water would be nice."

And damn the flames that worked between your legs, setting your entire body on fire. How did both men manage to do such things to you? To play you like a puppet?

He nodded once, a subtle acknowledgment, before striding away.

Alone now, your hands trembled as you fumbled with your phone. A few taps, a swipe and your search history stared back at you, a guilty confession in pixels and light.

Your eyes slid past the many variations of your searches for ‘Older man x younger woman' content.

Shame and arousal coiled within you, tightening around your chest.

Delete. Delete. Delete.

How could you have been so stupid to assume no one would notice when everyone shared the same internet access? Your heart pounded, a relentless echo of your fractured calm. You knew that the illusion of your innocence was just that – an illusion, as fragile as your resolve.

You silently thanked the Internet Gods for always assuming their users to be male-gendered.

Let your stepbrother and stepfather browse their older women. You could feign your innocence for a little while longer.

Right?

[daughterofapollo-official]

Christmas special

So I usually make a holiday special about camp half blood.

But Christmas isn’t a big deal. It’s not a country or cultural holiday, it’s a religious holiday, a religion most campers won’t identify with.

Percy however ……celebrates Christmas.

Him and his mom bake cookies every year, and they do all the traditions.

Because I think Percy Jackson was raised Christian. At least until he was 12 when he turned 12 and he learned about the Greek gods and their existence and became atheist. But he still enjoys tradition and culture.

I am mainly taking this from the whole scene where Percy says “God like Jesus” in the show.

There’s also a few nuggets of Christianity from Percy’s point of view that aren’t really reflected in anyone else’s point of view throughout all of the novels. So basically I think he went to church sometimes, celebrated Easter and celebrated Christmas with his mom when he was like a little kid, up until he was 12 when he out about the gods and then he started hating the Greek gods and his trust in, the Christian God became very little and the only connection he really had to religion when he was a little kid was the tradition and the fun of those traditions anyway, he was never religious person. So….

The point is mercy is not Christian nor is he religious and general, but he celebrates major Christian holidays. Every year on Christmas, Percy makes cookies with his mom. He has a big dinner with his mom and his stepdad. They do all the traditions, they decorate the Christmas tree together with blue ornaments. It’s a very nice time of year for him. His mom fills up his stalking with candy every year. And they have blue candy canes.

Leo Valdez also celebrates Christmas. Or at least did. His mother Esperanza wasn’t really that religious after meeting Hephaestus she was semi aware of the fact that he was a God.. and I think that kind of made her question Christianity a bit more. But knowing that Hispanic families are usually Catholic or Christian and they’re very strong on that especially when being immigrants.

I think Esperanza didn’t really went to church that often. I think she’d say ‘God’ and care a little bit about the Bible on a day-to-day basis, but she wasn’t really that connected with her religion by the time she had Leo. However, in Hispanic culture families are very tight. And close.

So I think in the early years of Leo’s childhood, I mean when he was eight and under. They have a big Christmas celebration together as a family with cousins, uncles, aunts, grandmas, everyone. And they did all of the Mexican traditions for Christmas.

Leo did also did end up celebrating Christmas a lot of times with foster families, although it always felt more like a charity event than a family event and a holiday.

And I think that by the time Leo was 13 he had zero faith in the Christian God. And I think when he learned about the concept of multiple gods, he was even more flabbergasted as a Latino boy growing up with the idea of a single god, then going to multiple gods and then one of the gods being his father scrambled his brain and then he just doesn’t care for celebrating Christmas. In fact when September comes and he walks into a store and sees Christmas decorations- he is pissed.

He might go back to celebrating it when he’s older I mean, like 29 and married with kids, that’s only if his kids ask about Santa and they want to celebrate Santa and shit like that.

But I don’t think this delinquent gives a single fuck about religion at this point. To many Bad memories. he doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas unless it’s with his mom and he can never have Christmas with his mom again so what’s the fucking point?

[cloudlessly-light]

“You’re lucky I didn’t ruin your orgasm. What do you say to that?”

“Thank you daddy. Thank you for edging me. “

With stepdad hotch x brat Emily

Pretty please?

A/N: So here I thought I was done with this universe but I do have a lot of fun writing it and the request I got just happened to one of my favorite kinks soooo, here we are!

(Please look at the tags for this one!)

Title: Wild child   Summary: The case was over and Elizabeth was out of town. Should he fly home anyways? Probably. Does the case happen to be just an hour away from where Emily was? Yes. To Aaron, it’s a no brainer.   Word count: 3,5k Rating: Explicit   Warnings: Smut, power dynamics, dirty talk, edging, orgasm control/denial, oral sex, stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, taboo relationship, restraints, cheating, begging, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, rough sex, jealousy, stepdaddy Hotch is back and meaner than ever, stepdaughter Emily

“I thought I’d be back tomorrow but a last minute meeting is being held on Monday.”

“No it’s fine. I was actually thinking about spending the weekend here, see an old friend.” He lies through his teeth as he speaks to his wife on the phone. The rest of the team is packing up, more than happy to fly home to spend the weekend away from crime and death. It had been a rough one, a case he knew would stick with all of them to some capacity. And he needed to let off steam, needed to feel in control.

He was in Connecticut, less than an hour away from where Emily lived in her off-campus apartment. He hadn’t seen her in almost four months, since that Christmas, and now when this opportunity fell into his lap, he had to take it.

“That sounds like a nice weekend for you.” Elizabeth is already sounding distracted and he hears the rustling of paper. “Do you think you can give Emily a call? Just to check in since you’re close. She hasn’t been answering my calls but maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Of course, darling.” He knows that he should feel bad, feel some kind of guilt for lying and cheating on his wife, but the guilt had completely disappeared by now. The only thing he felt when he thought of his time with Emily was desire, forbidden and filthy, sides he never got to express except when with her.

“Thank you. I’ll be home sometime next week.”

“Okay.” He hears voices on the other end and knows that Elizabeth is about to hang up.

“Love you, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Love you too.” He hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket. He made small talk with his team as they finished up the last of their work and then as they’re all getting ready to leave he gives them the same excuse as he had his wife.

“I’ll see you on Monday.” He says as Dave looks at him with a hint of doubt.

“You’re sure you want to stay?” The older man had always been exceptional at reading him.

“Yes, one of my old college friends lives here and asked me to stay for the weekend.”

Dave is silent for a second too long, but in the end he shrugs.

“Have a nice weekend.”

“You too.” He watches as they drive off before getting into his own SUV. He calls her immediately, knowing that it was Friday and she was just about done with her classes for the week. She picks up on the third dial.

“Aaron? What’s wrong?” She sounds worried, but he isn’t surprised by that. They never talk unless it’s on skype with Elizabeth present.

“Nothing’s wrong, sweet thing.” He relaxes into the seat slightly when he hears her breathing hitching. “I was working a case and now it’s done and I’m in Connecticut for the weekend.”

“Really?” She sounds like she’s holding back excitement and he pictures how she’s biting her bottom lip.

“I’ll be at your apartment in an hour.”

“What if I already have plans?” She challenges, her tone just shy of conceited and he squeezes the phone a little harder.

“Cancel them. Or you won’t like what I’ll do to you.” He hangs up before he can hear her reply. He knows she’ll listen; she always does.

*

Emily looks at the phone, mouth hanging open slightly from the way he had hung up on her. She knew that she should ignore him, that she should go out with her friends like she had planned and tell him to fuck off for expecting her to drop everything.

But she hadn’t seen him since Christmas, hadn’t gotten to let go in the way she only could with him. This was a rare opportunity; she wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t. So she texts her friends, blaming a migraine and she hurries towards her apartment. The first thing she does is clean up, quickly hiding dirty laundry and clears books and papers that’s scattered in the living room off the table. Looking at the clock she realizes that she doesn’t have much time and so she jumps in the shower.

He knocks just as she’s getting out of the shower, he was early. But she knows that she’ll end up naked regardless, so she forgoes any clothes and opens the door with the towel wrapped around her.

“You’re early.” She states as he looks at her slowly up and down. She notices a few specks of grey in his hair and finds that she likes it. How did he always manage to look so effortlessly sexy.

“Are you going to let me in?” He’s leaning against the doorframe, towering over her as she stands barefoot. “Or do you want all of your neighbors to see you like this?”

“I shouldn’t.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You ruined a fun night for me.”

“And you don’t think we’ll have fun?” He takes a step forward and easily tugs the towel away, leaving her completely naked. “Your attitude will be your downfall, baby girl.”

The sound of a door down the hall opening makes her panic, knowing that she was on full display and she drags him inside and slams the door shut.

He pushes her right up against the door, crowding her space and she sucks in breath at the heat of his body against her back and the cool wood against her front. His mouth is by her ear, one arm already moving around her body to tease between her thighs.

“Now, is this any way to greet your daddy?” He husks and she shakes her head, already feeling herself falling under his spell. When his fingers move through her folds and he feels the slick between her thighs he snickers. “You’ve been soaked ever sine I called you, haven’t you?”

“Y-yes.” She gasps, hips moving against his hand in search of friction.

“Yes what?” He pushes her even harder against the door, keeping her completely trapped as his fingers speed up.

“Yes daddy.” The familiar words come easily, a need to feel him, to please him already overpowering any other thought.

“There’s my good girl.” He muses with a growl.

He fucks her right up against the door, bringing her over the edge as he mutters filthy words against her ear. When he comes he snarls her name, hands tight enough to bruise as he keeps her against him.

After, he cleans her up and watches with dark eyes as she walks on trembling legs and he already knows that this was the best decision he could have made.

They spend the evening doing more of the same, hands and lips always searching until the need for food becomes too much. He lets her decide on take out and then as they’re waiting he watches as she grinds on his thigh until she comes with a breathy moan.

The next day they’re woken up by the sound of knocking and as Emily looks at her alarm she swears.

“Fuck, I forgot to cancel my run.” She hurriedly grabs his shirt that’s the closes thing to her and walks to the door while Aaron sits up on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

“Em! Come on what is taking so-” The insistent knocking stops as she opens the door and Cooper looks at her state of undress “Oh.”

“Sorry I forgot we had plans.” She gives him an apologetic smile. “But I’ll make it up to you, pizza on Monday?”

“Yeah, sure.” He sounds disappointed for a moment but then musters up a smile. “See you on Monday.”

She waves and watches for a moment as he starts to leave, but the sound of Aaron’s footsteps gets her attention and she shuts the door. She knows what’s coming, remembering what had happened when he thought Derek was flirting with her. In the back of her mind she realizes that Aaron being jealous wasn’t going to stand in the long run, when she actually met somebody, but right then she found his jealousy hot, his possessiveness making heat flutter in her belly.

“A friend?” He stops right in front of her.

“We work out together.” She says and his eyes flash with something dark.

“Is that right?” His hand is fisting her hair so fast she barely registered that he had moved. She hisses as he pulls her head back, the grip painful. “This isn’t another one of your little boyfriends then?”

“N-no I swear.” She whines as he starts to pull her back towards the bedroom while getting the shirt off her, leaving her naked.

“I’m getting really tired of your attitude, of your lies.” He throws her on the bed and quickly straddles her waist.

“Daddy please-”

“Greedy little thing, any dick as long as you get an orgasm, is that it?” He grabs his tie that’s on the dresser and quickly binds her hands to the headboard. When she shakes her head with a pout he chuckles, the sound condescending and he sees her cheeks flush.

“I promise it’s not like that.” She refrains from pulling on the bindings and instead looks up at him with wide eyes.

“Even so, you’re in need of a lesson. A lesson of control.” He gets off the bed and goes to the desk where she had told him she had her toys. He grabs the vibrating wand and a dildo and places them on the bed beside her. “But first things first.”

Emily follows his gesturing hand, mouth watering at the sight of him already hard in his boxers. When she licks her bottom lip she hears a satisfied hum from above her.

“You want it?”

“Yes. Please.” She adds for good measure, not wanting to get into even more trouble. It’s enough and Aaron quickly rids himself of his boxers. The angle is strange, Aaron kneeling beside her head and grabbing her hair to help her crane her neck enough to be able to wrap her lips around him. But they make it work, Emily licking and sucking him the way she knows he loves and listens as he groans above her. The sound shoots straight to her clit, and she doubles her efforts, her tongue pressing with firmer strokes, her lips tightening around him.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it, good girl.” He whispers as she takes more of him. When she starts to struggle he starts to thrust, slowly fucking her mouth and groaning as she chokes around him every time he presses against the back of her throat.  

When he pulls back enough for her to take a couple of desperate breaths he wipes a couple of tears from her face and her hazy eyes meet his.

“You look so pretty like this, cock drunk for me.” He whispers and makes his way down the bed. Her legs spread for him, showing just how much she loves when he treats her like this, her slick shining on her inner thighs.

“I’ll be good, please daddy, I’ll be good for you.” She begs and he smacks the tip of his cock against her swollen clit.

“Oh I know you will.” He gives her a look that makes her pause, she knows that look, knows that whatever he’s planning will completely ruin her. The headboard rattles as she tugs but just like she knew, the knots were too tight. “Just relax and let me enjoy myself baby.” The words are barely out before he pushes inside of her.

He doesn’t give her time to adjust, settles quickly on a hard, deep rhythm that makes the bed slam against the wall and her body jolt. She grunts, the stretch of him mixed with pleasurable pain, the former quickly taking over. She can’t do much but take it, let him set the pace as he uses her body for his own pleasure. When his large hand presses her thighs back, opening her up even more to him, his angle changes and he manages to thrust right against that spot inside of her that only he had been able to find.

“Fuck!” She cries out, the pleasure building quickly as he stays like that, fucking into her like a mad man. “Daddy…” She gasps and he smirks down at her.

“You're such a little slut for me. Mine to use.” He mutters as he stares down at her. The flush on her cheeks has crept down to her chest, her abs are tensing, just like he expected, she’s already getting close.

“Yours.” She whispers as the pressure builds by each thrust of his hips. “Daddy, I’m so close.”

“I know baby.” He pants, feeling her tightening around him. He watches as her eyes roll back, how her back arches as she heaves for breath and just before she falls over the edge, he stops.

She cries out, her orgasm stopping in it’s tracks and she jerks on the bed. When she looks at him, there’s a pleased look on his face and he covers her mouth before she can start to complain.

“Mine to use.” He tells her again and then flips her around, her arms twisting above her. “You do not deserve to come, greedy thing.” He pushes back inside of her smoothly, slowing his thrusts as he enjoys the heat of her around him.

“Please…” She gasps, body already tingling from unreleased tension.

“I’m going to fuck you until I’ve had my fill, then maybe, you can come when I’m done with you.” He pulls her to knees, put pushes her upper body down against the bed. They stay like that, Aaron fucking into her with even strokes and Emily whimpering and moaning into the bed. He stops her from coming two more times, Emily’s begging falling onto deaf ears.

By the time he’s coming, Emily is shaking, her face buried in the bed to keep from screaming in frustration. She can feel her own slick run down her thighs and when he comes with a groan, she feels his release mix with hers as it drips out of her.

“That’s right, such a good pussy for daddy to use.” He mumbles, brain slightly hazy from his orgasm. When he lays down beside her, Emily rolls onto her back. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her pout like this, dark eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Untie me.” She mutters and pulls on the bindings again and he laughs at her.

“We are not even close to done, sweet thing.” He presses a kiss to her lips, then her forehead but she’s annoyed and doesn’t reciprocate. Aaron doesn’t seem bothered, only laughs at her again and then stands up and goes to the kitchen. He comes back with a bottle of water and holds it to her lips.

“Drink.” He tells her and she silently takes a couple of sips. The cool water seems to chill her heated body slightly.

“Now what?” She asks as he lays back down after taking a drinking some of the water as well.

“Now, you’re going to truly learn what happens when little girls get greedy.” Before she can even think to ask what he means, two of his fingers push inside of her. Then the buzzing of the wand starts and he holds it in front of her face before moving it down her body. His fingers curl and pushes inside of her and then he traces the wand over each of her nipples.

Her back arches at the feeling, pushing her chest further into the round head of the wand before he moves it further down her body. The feeling of the vibrations against her clit makes her entire body buckle in pleasure and somewhere through hazy pleasure she hears him snicker at her.

“Does that feel good baby?” He smirks, the question rhetorical and they both know it.

“Yes, yes it feels good.” She’s panting already, her legs widening as he curls his fingers and massages against her spot.

Aaron keeps his eyes on her, ups the power of the vibration and when her slick walls start to tighten around his fingers he stops, pulling away from her.

“No, please!” She cries out in disappointment. She knows there’s really no point, when he edges her he will continue until he deems her to be done, but it doesn’t stop her from trying.

“Quiet.” He warns and waits another moment before picking up the wand again. It’s not long until she starts to tense, her body shuddering on the bed and just as she’s about to come he stops again.

She whines, the sound needy and desperate but she doesn’t say anything, only waits until he’s pushing his fingers back inside of her again. This time he’s upped the power of the vibrator again and she feels like her whole body is going to explode.

She loses track of time, of how many orgasms he’s ripped from her. All she can feel is need, her body tense and brain screaming for release. He’s switched from using his fingers to using the dildo, and it’s only making her more crazy. Tears of frustration paint her face, she’s covered in sweat and when he stops again she can barely get a sound out.

“You’re so pretty when you cry.” He turns off the vibrator but keeps fucking her with the dildo, slowly, enough to keep her on edge but not enough to get her off.

“Please, please, pleasepleaseplease.” She looks up at him, eyes swimming with tears and desperation and Aaron feels arousal deep in his gut. He loved that he could reduce her to this, that she willingly gave herself like this.

“Who’s little cunt is this? To whom does your body belong?” He growls and starts to push the toy a little faster inside of her.

“To daddy, I’m yours.” She gasps and when he hums against her neck she knows she’s pleased him.

“That’s right, which means I do what I want, when I want.” He grabs the wand again and puts it on medium before pressing it back against her clit. The moan that leaves her is raspy and low and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a sexier sound.

The coiling in her belly is back with a vengeance, after being denied for this long it only takes her minutes to get right back at the edge she so desperately wants to fall off. But he doesn’t stop, even when she starts to tremble, even when she moans out his name and she looks at him with wild eyes.

“Come Emily.” He tells her simply and within seconds her body is buckling as she comes so hard she can barely breathe. All she can feel is pleasure, pleasure that’s close to painful, like her body doesn’t know how to handle it after all the buildup. It feels like she’s been coming for minutes when he finally stops the vibrations and but keeps lazily pump the dildo.

“Good girl.” He kisses her sweaty temple as she tries to catch her breath, her legs still twitching.

“So good.” She whispers, almost delirious from the power of her release. When she opens her eyes he’s looking at her, eyes so dark they look black as he pulls the toy out only to settle between her spread legs. She jerks at the feel of him against her and his eyes harden.

“You’re lucky I didn’t ruin your orgasm. What do you say to that?” He pushes inside of her but keeps his eyes on hers.

“Thank you daddy. Thank you for edging me.” She whimpers and when he starts to move she knows that they’re far from done.

When he leaves Sunday afternoon Emily can feel him everywhere, his marks are covering her body, there’s a pleasant ache between her legs. She kisses him good-bye at the door, bites down on his bottom lip and tugs and he growls slightly.

“You know, JJ thinks you’re hot.” She muses and he arches an eyebrow.

“Your blonde friend?” His hands are tight around her waist, not letting her go.

“Mhm, she told me during Christmas. And, I thought you should know, cause she’s a very good kisser.” At that, his fingers twitched and a low murmur sounded in his throat.

“Is that so?” He noses under her jaw, bites over a hickey. “Have you slept with her?”

“No.” She smirks when he pulls away to look at her with heated eyes. “But who knows, we’re both coming back for the summer. Just something to think about.”

“I swear you’re going to be the death of me, baby girl.”

She laughs and kisses him again, already tasting the want on his tongue. But he had a flight to catch so she settles on watching his ass in his jeans as he walks away. Just before leaving he turns to her, sending her a smile and a wink.

[skullytotheark]

Clear Skies 75

Setting: Different states of America

time setting: late 20th century, From 70s to 90s

Why I made it: Hehe creepypasta but oc au

Inspiration: 70s and 80s slasher mixed with creepypasta characters / creepypasta characters set in the 80s

goal: Possibly make an ARG series, But for now it’ll be in silly writing i do every now and then. Similar to creepy hornets

Description:

The Rot of the woods is slowly but surely making it’s way pass the treeline, The Horrible reality where monsters and things that go bump in the night are more common than you could ever imagine.. Deep in Montana and Colorado these nightmares hide within the woods, Awaiting for any lone hikers and the innocent to walk into their sight. For they hunt for sport and to survive…

Ever Since the start of the 70s, More and more of these creatures and psychopaths are beginning to crawl out from the bed to strike. Their goals and motives being a mystery to people like you and I… There’s only a burning ember of hope that there is good amongst the bad, But then again. who says they’re any better than those they fight??... Only god can save you from whatever is tapping at your window, The strange towering silhouette standing in the corner of your room or the sound of heavy footsteps heading straight for your bedroom door.

Welcome my dearest of friends and stalkers of the night!!!

Allow thy to introduce you to a World of many nightmares and terrors beyond your imaginations.

Clear Skies 75!

For a good while you've might've heard me just ramble or mention this AU in at least one or two of my posts, But Allow me to show you what I've been brewing for awhile!

For a good while I've been sitting in my little snowy room, Thinking of different scenarios and plotpoints involving these characters! Now personally I'm not ENTIRELY SURE, If I'll do as much "fanfics" or writing as much as I would do for Creepyhornets but You'll def probably see me write about this au Every now and then! I more or less really wanted to just, Have characters based off of some of the pastas or characters i've come to love growing up in this silly community!!

Introductions.

The Watchman.

"A Modern Tale for those who go wondering in these woods son. They say it's a Eldritch God of sorts or a "angry spirit"... Me?? I think it's a force of nature, Not something you can fight... But you'd have to adapt to.. trust me, I know..."

The great watchman! The Slenderman of this canon as you can tell and the main "big bad" of this canon, I more or less imagine that this entity is not your sterorypical slender that we're used to seeing in writings. Returning to the older versions such as the Operator and when Slender was simply a being of unknown nature and sudden movements...

"The Butcher"

"I had a run in with that fucking freak. Cackling and getting a kick out of my fear as he chased after me with a fucking machete.. One day he'll fucking learn what's it like when the roles change... One day..."

The Jeff The Killer stand in for this canon! More or less depicting him as a cruel but sloppy killer, Although he has a big reputation, He's a amature and a prime example of "human scum" in this canon. No goals or motives, doing it for the fun of it. Also im just thinking of naming him "Geoff" cuz it'd be a really funny bit imo

"The Pyromaniac"

"I remember when he was still young.. A cheerful little boy who still needed mommy to tie his shoe laces... But then things changed... He never got along with his stepdad... But then he went missing one day and.. I get a call that My husband was killed... Then I knew.. He wanted to get back at him for everything Frank had done to us... But it should have never ended like this.."

The Ticci Toby stand in for this universe!!!. Felix/Cody robinson is a child of abuse who is short tempered and rash, Often acting and thinking later. Although he's a valuable assest to The Watchman's following. Even though He hates it and wants to go home.

"Doll-Face"

"I still remember when "Bryan" took me up to that cabin... God I should've known I was just another lamb for the slaughter.. How did this end up like this Ma?..."

Doll-Face is of course the Masky inspired character! His story heavily follows the idea of "get away at the Cabin goes wrong and now all of my friends are trying to kill eachother" trope.

"Null"

"I'm alive... I shouldn't be but I am... After everything I've done.. I'll make things right this time... I'm so sorry Tommy.."

Null is a combination of both Hoody and Skully into one character! And is also the "Alex" of this scenario. Bryan's family was haunted by the watchman for generations, When he was older the entity began to pick away at his sanity and commanded a blood sacrifice for his family using 'it's children' for resources when building their cabin / property in the woods.

"The Stalker."

"I could've sworn, He was standing right at my bed when I was asleep. I don't know why but he was... He killed dad but... Why not me?... Was he... Taunting me?.."

And the final member of this cast [ATM] the Stalker! The eyeless Jack stand in for this series who draws heavy inspirtation from the og eyeless jack design. Atm I had the idea that he was a journalist in diguise pretending to be a demon of sorts who profits off of his crimes by taking photos of the aftermaths. Buttt I do also like the idea of him just being a demon. His story is still a WIP atm.

Until next time!

Sadly that is all the characters i have so far :(

But I do plan on making more characters such as Zalgo, Jane, Nina and a whole bunch more!! Ofc I plan on making a word doc for this au that'll have links to each of these characters butttt i gotta finish Stalker and "Geoff" before i do!

But until then keep an eye out on my tiktok *COUGH* Skullytotheark *COUGH* for a bunch of arrttt and wips of more characters!!!

See you all next time :)

[patheticbatman]

Last day for my Win A Commission contest! It’ll end at 11:59pm EST on May 12th. If you guess the book story, you’ll win a drawing :)

The book cover usually depicts these two sisters, Addie and Meryl, as white, but a friend of mine used to headcanon that they were her sister and herself. So I’m drawing her vision!

But as this scene is not very identifiable, I’ve included some hints. You can check out the first and second day’s hints as well.

1. Addie, the younger girl, has to save her sister from the plague wrecking her land. However, she is the ‘cowardly’ sister of the two, so she never suspected she’d be the one saving the other.

2. Addie falls in love with Rhys, a sorcerer, which is a slightly different species in this world.

3. I’ll give you the author and most of the title. Gail Carson Levine’s The Two Princesses of [blank]

Also, unrelated, I originally planned four pictures total for this story - 1 title and 3 in-story. But then I lost the phot I took of the last picture, and I didn’t think I had the physical copy anymore (I draw on paper first), so I ended up drawing this one. But guess what I found! I’m including a picture of the old one below. I think I’ll include them all in the final story :).

Here you can see how the older sister (Meryl) is more white passing than her sister (Addie) who is very much not. My friend M and her older sister had a very similar dynamic.

And to be honest, people don’t recognize my brother as my relative unless we’re both standing next to my mom, our shared parent. And when his dad, my stepdad since I was four and whom I love, is with us, they try to color code separate us. Which is frustrating, to say the least.

Interracial families have been a thing forever!!! Throwback kids have also been a thing forever!!! Families aren’t all one ethnicity or the same expression of an race!!!

So raise one up for families that don’t get recognized as families. I’ve been trying to put this into words for days and across several posts lol.

Additionally, I wanted to include a multitude of hairstyles for Addie, the sister with 4c hair. From an Afro with a headband to twists to braids. And also, sleep bonnets. They’re important for hair health and management, and are stigmatized/hidden in a lot of media. I hope that changes soon - God knows how many times I haven’t had the time or desire to mess with my hair when I wake up, so I just throw a bandana on to keep it private.

Everyone should be able to do that! No one type of person should have to be more ‘presentable’ at more/all times to be accepted. Especially when it affects one’s hair health!

[basically-a-god]

✨ ROBIN LORE ✨

@itsprobablydean (you asked for this essay so now you have to read it lol)

Alright let’s start, when she’s 13 in South Carolina. Her mom is an abusive alcoholic, (great start, I know) so she decides to run away from home. She somehow manages to make it all the way to New York in a few months, picking up new skills along the way. (Cause she’s just cool like that) One day she’s sitting in an alley eating, when she hears footsteps. The person she thought she was about to have to murder actually turns out to be a boy named Lucas, who is a bit older than her and another homeless kid. They quickly become inseparable, and unfortunately, hopelessly in love. But soon Robin discovers she’s a demigod, and she needs to go to CHB for her own safety. She attempts to take Lucas with her, but of course she’s not allowed to since he is a human. When she tries to not go to camp, Lucas refuses, saying she has to go and be safe at the camp. They share a heartbreaking kiss as they confess their love to each other, (Bc I’m dramatic like that) and robin hasn’t seen him since. Jk! After two years of being all sad and lonely she gets the god of requited love Anteros to help her find Lucas. She succeeds and they find out he’s a legacy of Aphrodite. Now they’re both trying to see if Legacies are allowed in camp

Some extra little facts-

-she learned how to steal and gamble like an absolute pro, and she still hadn’t let go of the habit

-she once stole a pocket knife from a stranger, and now she carries it around with her 24/7, even if it’s not the ideal weapon

-she has a simple ring that she always wears from Lucas, and (surprise!) he stole it from someone

-since she hates her mom, she always avoids saying her last name, and if she does, she’ll just lie and use Lucas’ last name

-she’s been cold and distant to most people since she’s been at camp, but once she found Lucas she almost instantly became a lot kinder

-she holds a grudge against Chiron since he won’t let her leave camp (to look for Lucas)

-she was homeless for a year, she knew Lucas for 9 months out of that year. She’s been at camp for 2 years, and is now 15

-She hasn’t been to school since she was 13, so she doesn’t know a lot like hard math or science

-she actually really liked her stepdad, but she still ran away

-she has a black leather notebook where she writes about her time with Lucas so she never forgets

-she absolutely HATES apologizing lol

-since she had been on the run for a year and then was stuck in camp, she’s not really up to date on most popular songs, memes, celebs and stuff like that

-She speaks a bit of Italian

[krshpdoinklestuf]

What's Charlie's and Adam's relationship like in this au since he's her stepdad now

What is his relationship like with Vaggie here since he's like her in law now

What's the brother dynamic between Eden and ziro

How'd you get so good at your art

How come Adam needed a c section with Eden and ziro

Did Adam and Lucifer ever go to one of those spiritual pregnancy classes that are supposed to help you stretch and get ready for birth

What is Charlie and able's relationship like as step siblings

How do Lucifer and able get along

Who attended Adam and Lucifer's wedding

What was Adam and Lucifer's wedding like

1.strained but getting closer. Charlie gets emotional whenever Adam’s hurt now and understand how important he is to her dad. They don’t always get along and she gets very easily embarrassed around him with what he says to her about him and his dad. They do have one thing they bond over though; guitar lessons. Charlie knows how to play some string instruments like the Cello and some guitar so Adam ends up teaching her some of his tips and tricks.

2. Adam teases the shit out of her and she hates him lol she wishes he’ll leave but she does acknowledge his good side when he shows it. She’s shocked at how much she loves his boys and Charlie in his own way. They have short moments of getting along but most of the time, Charlie has to keep them apart or they’ll end up killing each other. She also finds him disgusting since he tends to walk around without a shirt most of the time and scratch himself in true dad fashion.

3. Eden and Ziros relationship has been complicated their entire lives. Eden was incredibly jealous of Ziro when he was born, he would throw pretty bad tantrums to get their attention in the beginning but eventually, the two grew a lot closer. Eden teases Ziro a LOT, to the point Luci and Adam have to break them up. He will defend his brother no matter what though, he genuinely loves him. As they get older though, it becomes more strained. They’re so different and with how Eden kills their dad, Ziro feels more pain and betrayal towards him but he still loves his brother.

4. So many years of practice and constantly drawing to find the style I’m comfortable with lol I’m still not great with a lot of things like bgs but that means a lot😭

5. I kind of wanted a reason to give him cool scars lol and for some reason, for me personally, I couldn’t find a way to give him a natural birth without it being somewhat complicated anyway? Since Luci is the literal demon king of hell, Adam’s body could only handle so much. Luci loves to be soft and kiss them gently when they’re alone.

6. Kind of, Charlie’s version of it lol she felt like the patrons of the hotel could benefit from what him and Luci should learn too so she tries to have one of her own, even though she had no idea what she was doing. It just ended up with the patrons arguing over their own made up pregnancy drama and Adam watching in amusement, eating snacks and Luci more than fed up with the entire thing lol

7. They don’t really have much of a relationship quite yet. It’s more acquaintances than even siblings tight now, but they do like each other whenever he’s able to come and visit.

8. they’re not quite close but Lucis trying. He’s just awkward with introductions and not making himself look silly. Abel finds him a little weird and extravagant but not in a bad way, in a “he might actually be good for my dad” kind of way.

9 + 10. A select few in all of Hell and Heaven, it’s one of the only moments that Sera and even Emily would be able to see Luci. Both Adam and Luci wanted their wedding to be extravagant, any way to flaunt their love for each other. Luci HAD to have his ducks involved somehow so he made Adam accept their wedding cake topper is them as ducks lol It was a very busy ceremony but Luci and Adam haven’t been this happy in many years.

[chuuyascumsock]

hii dambi ᡣ𐭩!! i just wanted to say that i’m sorry for what happened to you, i’ve been in s similar situation before when i told my mom that my cousin sa’d me when i was six and he was ten.

she basically defended him by saying that he was young and his life wasn’t the best, justifying what he did to me.

it really sucks that people have this mentality that it’s okay to romanticize csa and incest because it’s fiction. if you’re going to write dark content, do it right!! it’s so weird that it’s gotten normalize in tumblr and in general (booktok.)｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

but anyway, i wish you best of luck in moving out <3 if you’re feeling unwell, you could always rant to us. take good care of yourself!! ily ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I understand completely how you feel, my mom didn’t believe me when I told her a couple of years after it happened and we were split up and then invited him over to stay at our house for a week to show that I was a “liar” (obviously he wasn’t going to do it again because there was more attention on him) and then years later when I got into contact with her again, she acknowledged that she knows it happened and defended him saying that he was abused too and just a kid (he was around 8 years older than me while I was 6) so it was okay. When getting into contact with one of my other siblings, she said that my mom went years covering it up (as well as the SA I experienced from my stepdad) and hiding it from everyone until she found out what he did and confronted him to which he admitted he had assaulted me. My sibling disowned him and told everyone that he was an abuser and to stay away from him.

When you write dark content such as CSA, Incest, and other heavy topics, please keep in mind to not sexualize them and create a safe space for abusers. I understand developing certain interests in those topics because you were a victim (I am aware that those who have went through such things develop sexual interests in SA or other kinks), but if you write a smut about it, maybe keep it in the notes if you know that abusers or people who indulge in these interests in an unhealthy manner would take it as a sign that you’re a safe space and actively support what they’re doing or their desire to commit those acts.

Also, just because it isn’t a picture or video of a child being hurt/assaulted, doesn’t mean that writing smut with children isn’t CP. You’re actively painting a mental picture of minors being assaulted/harmed and sexualizing it which is 100% still CP.

I’m so sorry to everyone who’s had to deal with any sort of abuse or mistreatment in their lives and hope you’re doing better or soon find a way out of your situation. You’re very strong ❤️

[maricabrera]

connections | headcanons | statistics | pinterest

ABOUT

Full Name: Mariana Valerio Cabrera

Nickname: Mari (preferred), Mariposa (Spanish for butterfly - her nickname from her mom & stepdad)

Age/DOB: February 18, 1991 (33)

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Gender: Cis Female

Place of Birth: Briar Ridge, SC

Neighborhood: Downtown 

Sexual/Romantic Orientations: Bisexual / Biromantic

Religion: Agnostic, doesn’t really have any relationship with religion

Occupation: Songwriter, Former Event Coordinator at Firefly Brewery & 1/2 of the band Palmetto Drive

PERSONALITY

Goals/Desires: to learn to play the drums, to be comfortable playing in a group/duo again, stop using an alias when she writes songs for other artists, take more photos, stop leaving her favorite sweater at her best friend’s house

Fears: loneliness, death, heights, spiders, snakes, frogs 

Hobbies: binge watching 90s/00s tv shows, reading trashy romance novels, playing the guitar, songwriting, learning different instruments, paddle boarding

Likes & Dislikes: the sound of scratching vinyl, waking up to a sun drenched room, bonfires on the beach, the smell of honeysuckles, a freshly restrung fiddle bow, walkable distances, highland cows, soft music playing while it rains // the dentist, traffic, lying, being early anywhere, taking down her christmas tree or any holiday decorations, instruments that are out of tune, when you know the word you’re looking for but can’t remember it (#writerproblems am i rite??), mosquitos, stage fright dreams, blueberries

QUICK FACTS (quick is subjective tho bc idk how to tldr anything very well)

Trigger Warnings: parental death, car accident, infidelity

Born & Raised in Briar Ridge

Dad died when she was 2 years old in a car accident

Her mom met the man who’d be her step-father a few years later in a single parents/grief support group and they married shortly after

Had a great childhood, is very close with her step sisters and tbh doesn’t consider them ‘step’ anything - they’re just her sisters

Was always really into music, her dad used to play for her when she was in her mom’s belly

Took up guitar to feel closer to her dad when she was in elementary school because he used to play, but the instrument was too big so she opted for the fiddle

Was a bit of a progeny when it came to the fiddle and her ability to play it so well and her love for it only furthered her relationship with music

Once she hit 8th grade she decided to put her focus back into learning the guitar- she took private lessons with one of her dad’s friends until high school, when she threw herself into it completely and took Guitar as an elective

It was here she met Rhett Dawson, a boy a few years older who would take her seemingly mundane, black and white world and throw it into technicolor

Initially, their relationship was strictly platonic. He was nothing more than an older student teaching her guitar lessons, but she felt an instant connection with him she’d never experienced before or since, and their hour long lessons quickly morphed into curfew breaking sessions and a blossoming young romance she hadn’t been expecting

Mari got through high school alright, graduating with a respectfully average GPA but school was never her true focus - that was always music

So it was no surprise that instead of heading off to college, she went on the road with Rhett, ready to take the music world by storm as the duo Palmetto Drive

And for years they did just that- traveled together while making and sharing their music with the world. She was living out her dreams and she couldn’t have been happier

But as the old adage goes, all good things must come to an end and this one came to a screeching halt as it hit a brick wall

Palmetto Drive was just getting their big break when her romantic and professional relationship with Rhett ended, essentially erasing the future the two had been planning together all these years

She’d caught him cheating with their opening act, an up and coming country artist, and it all snowballed from there. In the ensuing fight Rhett admitted that this wasn’t the first time he’d cheated on her, Mari’s entire world seemingly collapsing around her as he dismantled everything she thought she knew with each admission

It was after this fight and revelation that she left. She left the tour, her dreams, the love of her life- all lost in less than 24 hours as she took an overnight bus back home to Briar Ridge

After she left the tour she came home, spending months curled up in her childhood home, heartbroken

On top of it all, Rhett continued to play the songs she’d written, songs they’d written together, and capitalize on their growing success- except now as a solo artist and with his new girlfriend on his arm

It was as if in the blink of an eye her entire world had crumbled around her and she was left staring at the ruins of her dreams and her heart, with no idea on how to begin to rebuild any of it

But as time went on things got easier, she used her connections and her knack for tossing a party together to get an event coordinator job at a family friend’s brewery, where she built their customer base and filled their event calendar for four years

In that time she was able to reconnect with her roots, make friends who knew her without Rhett and the ghost of who she used to be, and move forward into a new era of her life that didn’t revolve around the boy who broke her heart

On a whim (and after quite a few glasses of wine), Mari applied for a songwriting camp in Nashville. She completely forgot about it until a month later when she got her acceptance, and suddenly she was leaving Briar Ridge once again with a dream

The move to Nashville was terrifying and was supposed to only be for the duration of the camp - two months and then she’d be back home. But as soon as she got there Mari knew she was where she was supposed to be at the time

She found somewhere she instantly felt like she belonged with a group of people who lifted her up and inspired her to find her voice and passion again

So instead of the two months she’d planned on staying, Mari stayed in Nashville for a year. Writing and recording music, reconnecting with an industry that she thought she’d never find a place in again, and once she got to a place where she could be doing her work anywhere she chose to come home again, to be with the people who know her heart and who deserve to see the best of her once again

POSSIBLE/WANTED CONNECTIONS

MISC — childhood friends, writing partners, old crushes, fwb, neighbors, open mic night regulars from when she ran it, old firefly brewery coworkers, friends like family, friends from her year in nashville, people she met while touring with palmetto drive, new friends- anything and everything, really!

EX — about a year or so after she got home from the tour that broke her heart, mari decided she was ready to date again (spoiler alert: she wasn't). she and this character started a very casual relationship that turned into something way more serious than she was ready for at the time. they were together for a year when mari, regrettably, cheated on this character with rhett when he came into town (hurt people hurt people, y'know?). their breakup was rough and mari takes full responsibility for it. it was actually this relationship that had her swearing off actual commitment. she's afraid she'll hurt someone again and she doesn't want to do that.

PLATONIC SOULMATE — this is mari's best friend ever since childhood. they have no secrets, no boundaries. they are the friends everyone assumes are sleeping together (maybe they are mind your business), strangers assume they're married. it's truly just all love. they fight but they always make up. her anchor in the storm that can be her life. maybe at one point they tried something romantic but really, they're just meant to be in each other's lives. just besties. ride or die. idk let's talk about it!

RHETT'S FAMILY — her big ex, the boogey man in her romantic life, the first person she ever loved and the one who seemingly ripped her heart out of her chest, is also from briar ridge. his family goes way back so i think having someone (or someone's!) who're related to him that mari, in her healing and revamp era, is going to have to learn how to be around. maybe the two used to be close! maybe this character knew about the cheating and mari feels betrayed. maybe they feel slighted bc mari came back to town and avoided them. so many options!