#there's supposed to be more but my hand is fucking dying

[cherryredstars]

helloo!! i have a request for subby miguel:

could you write a bratty sub miguel who the reader asks to top for the first time and he agrees because he’s not convinced that she can do it? so he keeps making all these snide remarks and tries super hard to maintain his composure while she’s slowly unraveling him and at the end he’s just like a broken whimpering mess for her 😍

anyways you’re one of my favorite blogs on here and i adore the way you write!! everytime i see your banners pop up i get so giddy lol i literally love your fics

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex

A/N: Aw thank you, love!!!

Unedited

He's confused, a little bit delirious too.

Usually, you're so tired. You're naturally a sleepy person, needing a nap after doing a handful of tasks that aren't exactly complex to begin with. He suspects that's the reason why he's usually on top of you, plowing his cock into you while you just need to lay there and take it. But even then you whimper out your tiredness. Sniffing into his neck how the force of his thrusts and the position he's forcing you into are making your thighs hurt. Mewling out how it's too much after both of you orgasm the first time that night.

So when you bat your pretty eyes at him and ask for his permission to let you bounce on his dick, he can't help but laugh. It's not supposed to be an entirely mean laugh, but he can see the furrow of your brow as you pout at him. Of course he agrees, chuckling to himself knowing that after a few thrusts you'll get too tired to lift yourself off his fat cock, mewling for him to help you until he's got you laying flat on the bed and feeding your poor pussy the dick it so desperately wants. And you're starting to prove him right.

His hands rest behind his head, preventing him from helping you as he watches you. Your own hands are flat on his chest, your mouth open with whimpers as you lift yourself off and on his dick. He can hear the wet squelches of your cunt, groaning occasionally when you roll your hips. But the quick pace you had before is slowly dying down, barely pulling yourself off his dick before sinking back down. He smirks at you, slowly pulling his hands from behind his head with a chuckle.

"It's okay, mi vida." He begins, "I'll help you, poor baby."

But before he can plant his hands on your hips, you shift. You let out a low moan as you drag your hands further down his chest, planting them on the hard ridges of his abs. You fix your position, sitting straighter and spreading your legs wider around his thighs. Miguel opens his mouth, only to be cut off when you begin vigorously impaling yourself on his dick. Your pace is faster than when you started, and you mumble out small whimpers of 'please' every time you take him to the hilt. You're completely consumed in your own pleasure to realize that Miguel's eyes are rolling back and he's fisting the sheets. His hips are desperately meeting yours, his back arching as your puffy walls clench tight around his cock. The forceful slaps of skin do nothing to drown out his moans and whimpered curses.

His mind is getting foggier with each thrust, his cock twitching against your tight walls as a burning feeling forms in his stomach. It explodes right after yours, a high pitch keen leaving your mouth as your walls milk him. He grits out a curse as you continue bouncing on his cock despite your orgasm and his, begging him for more and more. You don't seem even remotely tired or show any signs of stopping.

He's getting a little scared that you'll fuck him into oblivion.

#cherry's requests🍒 #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 #miguel smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel 2099 #miguel o hara #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel o hara x reader #miguel atsv

[zaptrapp]

Ea’s Bad Batch Finale Rant

Here we go, doing this as I’ve done for ep.1. Of course SPOILERS AHEAD for the last episode (sigh, it’s all done and gone isn’t it?). Warning, this is going to be chaotic and emotional... so yeah, deal with it haha.

The intro… the eerie music… chills.

Is something bad about to happen or…?

Please leave Wrecker alone.

WRECKER NO

We are not starting on a good note, why’s Wrecker so beaten up???

This is not good, I’m not good.

I mean I know why, because of last ep beast, but c'mon why Wrecker...

“Clone Force 99 ended when Tech died” fuck If I’m not crying wow….

Crosshair shaking so much… nah I’m out already what the fuck is this.

Crosshair wanting to sacrifice himself, YO CHILL?!?

Hunter please discipline your children.

Dr. Hemlock x Rampart or did I just imagine the sexual tension?

But what if...

Enemies to lovers Dr. Hemlock x Rampart lmao please someone, anyone?

Kids please beat the shit out of miss Dr. PLEASE KIDS!

Omega being so smart, her character development, the courage! SLAY GIRLIE

FREE THE ZILLO YUP

now we're talking

"Is it Omega's or Echo's handiwork?".... "Omega's." LMAO they know Echo doesn't fuck around that much hahaha

Emerie i give you one last chance.

green kid I feel you so much, I'm also afraid of heights hahah

here we go with the Incredible 4 (aka the super clones? enhanced clones? brainwashed clones? whatever....)

they give off a lot of "Avengers Unite!" vibe

ready to slay aren't we?

When I said slay I didn't mean slay the bad batch, just to be clear.

annd Hunter is a goner

Annnnd Crosshair is a goner too i guess?

WHAT THE FUCK NOT THE HAND???

Creepiest point the show has ever been what the actual fuck is this supposed to be a children show?

Yup Wrecker is done too.

Yo the scene where Emerie and Echo see his squad being taken away. I got chills, you can fucking see his reaction, the shock.

ECHO SLAY YESSSS ECHO THE OG ARC TROOPER HERE WE GO

Emerie don't fuck this up and get those kids to safety thank you.

CLONE RESCUE HAPPENING RN I'M NOT GOOD

Nala Se and Rampart too?! slay

Omg Rampart stfu for one second or just go away you're useless anyway

Not the squad being tortured

HUNTER NOOOOOOO

"We'll survive, but you won't" -> OOOOOOHHFFFFFFUUUUCK

Hunter be mine

Oh wow Nala Se I see where you're going with this.

Kamikaze?

Too bad we didn't have more Hemlock x Rampart interactions, boyfriend died, sad.

Aaaaaand 2 are down.

Bye Rampart and Nala Se, you actually were on my dead bad batch bingo list.

Rest In Peace Nala Se🙏🏻 you got redeemed.

Rest in Sass you bitching ass imperial Rampart 🖕🏻

UH Hemlock this was such a bitchy thing to do.

and here goes the chaos

Wrecker is so fucking menacing. HE IS PISSED

OK WRECKER IS MAD MAD and also scary scary now…

Hunter with that spear makes me feel things.

Uhhh he got it coming from a mile away

And Clone CX-2 is down….

So, uhhhh…. That wasn’t Tech uh……

So….

Tech was….

….Dead dead?

Like actually dead this whole time?

Fuck.

ALSO WHERE THE FUCK IS COMMANDER CODY PLEASE RELEASE HIS FROM HIS CAGE

NO ECHO fuck god

“Take a shot everytime the bad batch is on the verge of getting killed”

-> not me being absolutely wasted and with my nerves asking for mercy

Please Hunter, Crosshair, kill that bitch ass Hemlock

major disney villain vibe in the storm with the hostage secured to his wrist yada yada...

"DROP YOUR BLASTERS" well well well

Why is Hemlock’s screaming voice kinda sexy tho

I'm so sorry for what I've just said.

WET HAIR HUNTER FUCKING THANK YOU I can die now

CROSSHAIR PLEASE bciakwnfbhc I’m dying too here

You can do it YES you can do it

Crosshar leaning on Hunter like he did with Tech in the clone wars season 7 HAHAHAHA YUUUUP I've been fed.

Uh that was personal

Guys... that's enough. Yup I-I think he's dead now. Yes, definitely gone. Uh, you can stop shooting, he's cold. He also just fell off a cliff... HE DEAD DEAD!

evil space imperial boyfriends reunited in hell

The way Omega chooses to hug Crosshair first, as a DadHunter! stan I feel a bit betrayed but comprehensible… he just saved her not missing the shot.

with one hand tooo, kudos

group hug I'm so teary

Wait so they did it?

THEY’RE OFF PLANET!??

AND THEY ALL SURVIVED?

Oh wow I bet my money on Hunter and Crosshair to die but I was wrong?? This is… refreshing.

Look at them kids!! And the clone cadets, and the rescued clones!!!

EMERIE AND ECHO YESSSS

Look at them all cozy and happy

Nah Echo my man where are you going?

Rex mention pt. 2 or something...

Rex should have been there in the finale but ok i guess... a bit disappointed but still

Nah Echo should have been there for the last shot.

It’s over uh?

look at them, finally happy and free. WE DID IT.

WAIT NO IT ISNT OVER YET???

Not the flash forward I cannot handle it

Ok Pabu!?

YOUNG ADULT OMEGA fuck yesssss

oh she looks awesome

IS THAT HUNTER'S BANDANA

deceased. dead on the ground. dead like hemlock.

NOT OLD HUNTER LIKE THIS IM DEAD ON THE GROUND DECEASED IM FUCKING CRYING OH WOW

OMEGA IS SO GROWN UP

She’s a rebel pilot

"You're our kid" I'M SCREAMING

he chose to be a dad, I knew it

She chose to keep fighting

TECH'S GOGGLES THIS IS SUCH A FOUL MOVE

They should have included Wrecker and Crosshair in this where are they??

But also it’s as it began, Hunter and Omega and their father-daughter bond

“Bye dad, imma be a pilot and save the galaxy” aka “imma move out from the basement and live on my own”

Oh Hunter you’re an old man now…. My heart is aching but also it means he got to live a peaceful life until the rest of his days.

the beard, the long hair, the gray hair.... i wonder how crosshair and wrecker are doing? and echo?? and howzer? AND CODY?

like you cannot leave me like this? hello?

This is gone full circle now.

Well….

Goodbye Bad Batch! It’s been a pleasure!

(I’m still crying)

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb spoilers #the clone wars #the bad batch spoilers #clones #tbb #captain rex #commander cody #sergeant hunter #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb tech #tbb batcher #rant post #the bad batch finale #the bad batch season 3 #may the fourth

[justtrashperson]

victim

#justtrashart #crime au #irish lads #irish lads au #jacksepticeye #terroriser #daithi de nogla #jse #the gaming terroriser #fanart #there's supposed to be more but my hand is fucking dying #and you already know what he's lookign at right

[navree]

don’t tell me what actually happens cuz i wanna keep myself relatively spoiler free until the episode airs but the idea of vhagar, who is huge, basically just eating arrax and lucerys whole like the whale swallowing jonah or that scene from finding nemo is so unbearably fucking funny to me that if that’s actually how lucerys dies, sorry to the pro blacks people but i am going to fall over laughing, if they wanted it to not be hilarious they should have given lucerys even two percent more development

#personal #no literally for one the idea of vhagar just turning into a venus fucking flytrap is unimaginably hysterical #for two as i've said them not doing ANYTHING to try and develop the blacks or give any of them beyond rhaenyra and daemon #any sort of fucking characterization #is now a huge problem because lucerys is about to die at the age of like thirteen as he tries to make it back to his bereaved mom #and i could give less of a shit beyond vague pity #this is a child dying terrified and far from home i'm supposed to be despondent #but i feel more emotions about aegon putting a hand in front of alicent to protect her even as she puts her body in front of him #to protect HIM and pulls his hand back because the ultimate goal is to keep him safe (which does indeed have me fucked up) #than i do about the idea of lucerys being full on murdered in cold blood #because they haven't done ANYTHING with him at all #i literally cannot name more than two personality traits even if i wrack my brain #that's such a writing fail i'm not gonna shut up about it

[earanie]

so.

#first of all ive already been told exactly how stupid i am by my dear friend so i know #im dumb #But stiiiilll #remember how last week while i was having an all around breakdown i wrote to Them™? #it was just a stupid text like how you doing #But I mean stupid!! stupid!! so stupid! riiight? #what was i hoping? idk. I just wanted to hear from them and so well i took the matter in my own 2 hands #I missed them and I wanted to hear from them since I think about them 24/7 anyhow #and guess what? they answered me #(we're supposed to be friends of course they did) #and alright we were having a nice convo #i was kinda afraid they'd be kind of stand offish #not bc of anything but probably not to try and lead me on yk? #that's what id do probably - kind but not too involved as not to give any false hope #and im so glad bc they arent doing that! we really did have a nice convo #ok at some point they answered kinda weirdly but that's probably just them being a v bad texter #which - fair - im not that good myself #thing isssss... the convo is still going on. 6 no 7 days later? #they're offering info that they don't need to. asking questions too! it's like they're actually enjoying talking to me! #I want to cry of happiness okay #and ik this doesn't mean a thing - i know it. i know how things stand. I am okay with it. #But to know they still enjoy talking to me and sending their precious little time chatting with me - i mean. fuck #and each time the convo was kinda dying down they still managed to keep it going 😭 i could cry #and today we've really been going back and forth and it's the best thing that's happened to me all month ok? ok. #and they've just asked me how was my morning. totally unnecessary question. im so happy i could die #yes im delusional but im in love so please god please universe - just keep thing convo going a bit more #just let me have this - it's such a small joy and such a small hope - just let me have this for a little while more #I wont go crazy - or i will but it won't hurt me worse than ive already been hurt so the danger is worth it #god I love them that's so awful

[fairy-hub]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: quiet nerd!pleasure dom!choso, heavy praise/light degradation, dacryphilia, choso has a size kink, choso’s pov, oral (giving and receiving), knife play/no blood, light pain kink, pussy drunk/obsessed choso, squirting, fingering, light begging, light choking

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @vampress7; Hi baby girl I hope you’re doing well, I have an idea: nerdy, loner, and unassuming freak choso who absolutely wrecks reader after class during a study session ((I need this so badly))

‘He is wearing those sweat pants, I keep sneaking glances at his cock, I wanna see it. No need to see it, I'm dying of thirst! He can feed me his cum! I don't really care much for giving blow jobs but something about Choso makes me wanna gobble his cock till he is a whiny mess.’

‘Damn ily but you’re down too bad for a man you haven't even touched.’

‘I cant help it! Have you seen Choso?! I want to hear how he sounds when he cums.’

‘Aren’t yall supposed to study for friday’s exam you can’t fail this one!’

Writen in your text bar; ‘its hard to focus on what he’s saying. Choso’s thick arms in his black muscle t-shirt’

Choso’s cheeks are burning, his ego swelling, nerves churning, and disbelief whispering. Sliding his fingers through his hair, there is no denying you want him.

Glancing down at his cock, perfectly outlined by his thin sweats. His cock is getting warmer, longer, and thicker with each soft pulse. If you want his cock, you can have it any way you’re willing to take it.

You come back holding the fuzzy stripped criminal. “He broke my lamp, got it cleaned up but he’s ground.” You bend over for Jasper to jump to the floor, running away from you with his fluffy tail in the air.

Your shorts rising up your soft ass. “I’d hit ya from the back if I didn't want to see the face you make when you take my fat cock first the first time.” Your beautiful eyes widen, locking onto your phone in his hands.

Grabbing his hard cock, stroking himself through his sweats. You glance down. “Im torn between wanting to fuck that bratty mouth outta ya and eating you out till you’re trembling.” Your mouth looks so sweet and fuckable. You’d look so beautiful sucking his cock with tears running down your face.

“For me to be a good teacher I need to help you focus. If I help you cum will you pay attention more. We can snuggle while we study.” Holding your phone out for you to grab. Quickly discarding it on the coffee table.

His heart beating faster when you get on your knees in front of him. “If you were paying attention to the text then you’d know,” tugging his sweatpants down, “I won't be able to pay attention until I hear what sounds come out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

Moaning when you grab his cock, your hand soft, in your hand his cock has never looked so big before. “You can hear me moaning in your soft cunt. I don't think you understand nnn!” Loudly moaning when you take his cock into your hot wet mouth.

Bobbing your head, taking him deeper with slow strokes soothing the uncomfortable tighteness building in his of his cock. “Honeybun I jerked off to the thought of eating you out before comin’.” Cupping your cheek, jerking hips fucking your soft wet mouth.

“Been slutting you out in my head since ya walked into class.” Choso leans his head back, sliding his fingers through his soft dark hair. “We can do both, Im dying to taste ya sloppy cunt. I'll gag you with my fat cock nnnn oh fuck that’s iiittt! Grabbing a handful of your hair, fucking your soft mouth till spit is dripping down your chin.

Choso is getting off on your beautiful eyes sparkling with tears that trickle down your cheeks. “Are ya gonna be my whore help me take care of my fat cock?” Pulling you off his cock with a soft pop. His too heavy to stand up, hitting his cock.

Grabbing his cock, smacking his tip on your lips. “Wish it stood up, but what can ya do?” He knees wobble when you cup his balls. Lovingly kissing along his cock, easing the ache and tension, with sweet soft pleasure.

Your hand feels so good, his cock softly tingling. Smiling up at him. He can feel his heartbeat in the quickly pulse of his cock. “You’re so perfectly thick and heavy that you hang, nothing wrong with that handsome.” Licking up his cock, swirling your tongue around his fat head. He groans when watches himself slip inside.

Letting go of your hair, slipping his hands beneath your shoulders. Picking you up, you wrap your soft thighs around his waist. He feels strong holding you close, keeping you safe. “Gonna take good care of you, and your sloppy cunt.”

Squeezing your ass, carrying you with one hand. You grab a handful of his hair, and a tingle shoots down his spine when he feels your nails. “Bedroom is the last room on the right.” Taking you down the hall. “Please all I want is you. Wanna be your whore, ruin anyone else for me with your fat cock.” Trailing loving kissing along his jaw, his cheeks burning.

Opening and shutting the door behind himself. “Ill show you how badly I've been needing ya.” Gently setting you down, closing your curtains. Taking his shirt off, dropping it on the floor.

You’re making quick work of taking your shirt and shorts off. Admiring your beautiful body Choso forgets everything he’s doing. You give him one thought when you spread your legs showing him your soft wet cunt.

He needs to make you cum.

Kneeling, grabbing your soft thighs putting them over his shoulder. “So so so beautiful.” Kissing your soft clit, gently sucking, steadily stroking you with his tongue. Making sure his barbell rubs your clit with his swipe.

Nudging a thick finger into your tight cunt. You’re perfectly soft and wet, clenching his finger. Slowly pumping his finger, he’s going to find your g-spot. Clenching his head with your soft thighs. Grabbing his hair tugging, he groans from the sweet pain.

Focusing on your sweet spot. Taking pride in how easily you tremble because of his tongue and finger.

“They say the quiet ones are freaky, what about you? What do you think about when you're touching yourself?” Choso doesn't want to take his face out from between your legs. He’s found heaven, but he can't ignore your question.

Rising up, causing you to fall on your back, your legs over his broad shoulders. His cock hangs, his tip lightly grazing your soft, wet cunt. “Wanna take you to mine, get you high, give you a safe word,” trapping your head in between his hands, “tie you up, drag a knife across your skin, see you squirm, help you cum, hear you cry and beg to be my sweet little whore.”

His cock aches from having you folded up beneath him. “I wouldn’t mind trying some freak shit, get a knife from the kitchen.” Kissing your forehead, cheeks, and soft cunt. Carefully slipping your legs off his shoulders.

Choso is quick to grab a large knife from your kitchen.

Leaning over you, “Safe word is red.” Lining his cock with your soft cunt, rolling his hip. Dragging the knife up your side, gently kissing your soft lips. Groaning, grinding his thick cock on your sloppy cunt.

Squeezing your neck, pinning your hips with his, keeping you from squirming too much. Slipping his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss. You’re so needy, and desperate, digging your nails into his back.

Loosening his grasp on your neck. “Ya good sweetheart?” Dragging the knife over your soft nipple, pulling his cock away. You’re so sexy, stuffing two thick fingers in your sweet cunt. “You’re getting so sloppy for me.” Curling his fingers, remember where your sweet spot is.

Smirking with pride when you moan, “Chooo please please please!” Gliding the knife down your stomach. Marveling at how you squirm, your cunt getting so tight around his thick fingers.

Your cunt’s lips and puffy clit wet, soft and beautiful. “I’m obsessed with how sexy you are begging’ for me, clenching my fingers.” Pressing the side of the knife to your clit, lightly rubbing your clit.

“I’ve been waiting long enough please please fuck me. Need to feel your fat cock in my cunt!” Choso’s cheeks burn with how you’re looking at him. He wants to remember the look of adoration, lust and pleasure on your beautiful face forever.

Lifting the knife off your clit, kissing her. “I didn’t prep ya enough yet sweetheart.” Dragging the knife along your thigh, adding more pressure than before testing what limits you have.

Stroking your clit with his thumb. “Nnnn oh fuck.” Pumping his fingers faster. - the pain- pleasure-I didn’t think!” You trail off moaning louder, biting your bottom lip, closing your eyes.

Holding the knifes to your neck, “Look at me or I’m stopping, look at whose making your tight little cunt feel so good.” Smiling when you look at him. “That’s it beautiful, lemme see the sweet look into your eyes when you cum. Whose slut are you?”

Rubbing your soft clit faster. “Your’s! All yours my tits, mouth, ass and cunt are all yours.” Dragging the knife down your neck, between your collarbones and swirling around your nipple.

“What are you? Need to hear you say it beautiful.” Messaging your sweet spot at a steady pace. You’re quivering, your cunt squelching, making his cock ache with how hard he is. His pulse quickens, making his head throb.

Swiping your nipple with the knife. “I’m your sexy good lil’ slutttt!!! Nnnn!” You’re squirting on his fingers, fingering your soft, squelching tight cunt. Playing with your puffy clit.

Jerking your hips away, he drags the knife down above your belly. Forcing you to have to keep still, your thick cum trickling from your spasming cunt. “There are so many nasty things I wanna do to you. I’m gonna ruin you, make your cunt crave my cock.” Gliding his fingers out.

Sucking your thick cum off his fingers, groaning from the flavor. Dragging the knife to your sloppy, sensitive cunt, sliding the knife around your sweet cunt. Groaning when your soft cunt clenches around nothing. “Beg for my cock.”

Oreo creampie’s m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #choso smut #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #kamo choso #choso kamo smut #choso kamo #choso x y/n #choso x you #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut #kamo choso x you

[empresskylo]

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

ZOMBIE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X AFAB!READER

SUMMARY | Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

WARNINGS | dead dove do not eat! this is literally smut about zombie!ghost... so... beware i suppose. gore. dub-con?? afab!reader. wc 3k

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ lock me up! send me to jail!!! i can't believe I wrote this yes i can. This is how down bad i am for Ghost, I literally wrote smut about fucking him as a zombie... someone send the authorities, i need my internet taken away. (happy oct 1st btw)

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been less than two days since you lost Simon.

The image of him dying in the infirmary wing, bleeding out on the bed, was plastered behind your eyes. You saw it every waking moment and even dreamt of it during the night. You could still feel Soap’s hands squeezing your arms far too aggressively as he dragged you out of the infirmary while you cried out for Simon. You tried to claw your way to him but Soap was stronger than you by a long shot. “We have to get out of here!” he shouted at you over the cacophony of voices, people running around frantically. You let him drag you away to safety, your body limp in his hold, thinking of Simon’s dying breath.

The infirmary had promptly been boarded up, the doors all sealed tight. The breakout had begun a few weeks ago and it only just infiltrated the base. When Ghost had come back, bleeding out after a mission gone wrong, you furiously checked him for bite marks. The relief you felt when you didn’t find any was short-lived. Simon had lost a lot of blood. Too much blood. You could still see it covering your hands the days following like a wraith. You felt like his blood was still wedged under your fingernails even after scrubbing your hands violently in a bucket of water. 

With the infirmary infected and the outside world gone, you had little options but to hunker down in the barracks. There were small hunting groups that would leave base and dare to edge into the city, trying to help people, and gathering resources. Ghost had been in one of those first groups to leave the safe confines of base. You wished you had begged him to stay. Pleaded with him not to go. 

The lights above you flickered, the generator not the most reliable of equipment. You looked across the table to your teammates, trying to keep yourself pulled together. It was only at night that you let yourself feel the pain, crying yourself to sleep. 

“We’re never gonna survive here if we don’t get that medical supplies,” Soap explained. 

“It’s too dangerous, Soap. We have no idea how bad it got in there. We have no way of knowing if all the bodies left behind turned,” Price retorted, pulling off his beanie and running his hand through his hair in nerves. 

“So, what then? We’re gonna send more men off to die, tryin’ to get shit from the city?”

Price closed his eyes momentarily. The bags forming under them showed just how little sleep he was getting. “We can’t risk more men. We’d be sendin’ them to their death, Soap. We don’t have the ammo to spare.”

“We don’t know that. We’re still not even sure if it's a guarantee the dead will change, or if they have to be bit.”

“It’s too–”

You cut the men off. “I can go.” Both their heads snapped in your direction. “I’m just a technician. With everything gone to shit, I haven’t been as much help as you guys have been. I can’t fight. I can’t–”

“No. We’re not riskin’ you,” Soap said sternly. 

“Soap,” you breathed. “I’m the only one here that isn’t crucial to the team. And don’t argue with me. It’s just a fact. Let me go. I can sneak in and grab what we need. I’m far quieter than any of you boisterous men anyways.”

Soap breathed your name. He was worried about you. He could see the pain in your eyes after losing Simon. He was worried this was a suicide mission. And that you wanted that. 

“Let me be of use,” you begged. Soap wanted to argue. So did Price. But you were right. You would be the fastest. And as much as they valued you, the remaining men couldn’t survive here without Soap or Price. 

“Lass, are you sure?” Soap said finally. He wanted you to feel useful, but he didn’t want you running off and risking your life because of the pain you felt from losing Simon. 

“Let me do it, Soap. Please. I need this.”

He couldn’t argue with you. He didn’t have it in him to hurt you more than you were already hurting. 

“Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

You stood in your gear, an empty backpack plastered to your back waiting to be filled with medical supplies. Price had gone over the layout of the wing with you, showing you exactly where you needed to go to get the right supplies on a map of the building. 

You stood before the infirmary doors, the ones that would lead to a long, winding hall that would bring you to the center of the infirmary. Off of that were several rooms and more halls, and a surgical floor. It was a large span of space to cover, but you believed you could do this. 

“Be quick about it, lass. We’ll be right here when you get back,” Soap said to you, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

You took in a breath and walked up to the doors that had been unlocked, a large piece of plywood that had previously been nailed against it, removed so you could go in. Before you reached out to the door handle, you turned around and rushed into Soap’s arms. He held you tightly, your head tucked right under his chin. “Don’t you fuckin’ die on me,” he mumbled into your hair. 

You pulled back and gave him a sad smile. Then you nodded at Price and faced the daunting doors again. Once you stepped through the threshold and the doors shut behind you, you could hear the plywood being put back up, a hammer nailing it in place. When you got back, you were to knock and Soap would be there waiting to let you back in. 

The hall was flickering with a few overhead lights, the generator still powering a few of the rooms in this wing. 

Ghost had a glazed-over expression when he rolled off his medical bed. The room around him was silent apart from the ticking of a clock in the corner. There was blood pooled all around him and dripping onto the tiled floor as he stood. He had some semblance of who he was, of what happened, but most of his thoughts were hazed over like he was stuck in a daydream. 

He had walked the length of the room, a sudden craving for food hitting the pit of his stomach. Any sound made him snap in that direction, rushing towards it as if on cue. He heard banging coming from one of the med rooms, the door locked and nailed over with whatever scrap of wood they could find. More people like him were trapped behind those doors, their groaning echoing down the hall. 

Ghost limped as he walked, remembering how he had been shot in his leg. He looked down at his crimson-stained pants, almost like he should be feeling pain, but he felt nothing. 

Days had passed and he roamed the halls aimlessly, not even getting bored. His mind had drifted off, somewhere that wasn’t in his body, allowing him to walk around like a zombie, completely void of any logical thought. 

He grumbled as he made his rounds, stuck in a time loop, walking down the flickering hall again and again, passing by bodies that had been left behind. 

He hesitated when he heard something. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, intrigued. It sounded like someone had just walked blindly into a metal medical tray, knocking instruments onto the floor. His movements were fast and nimble as he approached the sound. 

He froze in place when he saw you–though he didn’t know who you were at that moment. You cursed yourself for being loud but didn’t hear anything in retaliation so you figured you were safe. Your hand rested on the knife strapped to your hip anyway.

You were edging towards the main infirmary double doors, your hand touching the metal of the handle. You should go in there and get supplies, but that’s where you had last seen Simon. You didn’t have it in you to see what had become of him, his body rotting alone. 

Instead, you walked down the hall and into a storage closet, oblivious to the shell of Ghost who trailed behind you. 

You left the door to the storage room open to let in a few strips of light so you could see better. You hunched over and began to dig through the supplies that had been thrown all over the floor in panic. 

Ghost rolled his neck as he saw you in the room, your back to him. He had a sudden urge to sink his teeth deep into your skin, to tear you to shreds. In fact, he wanted nothing more; the instinct was overpowering. 

But when he got close, he could hear your voice as you mumbled to yourself, going over the list of the items you needed. You held up a pack of linens, trying to see if they were clean. “These will have to do,” you said softly, shoving them into your backpack. 

A wave of familiarity surfaced inside Ghost, a strange feeling of being alive pumping through his veins. When he got to the doorframe, he could smell you. His senses heightened, the waft of your natural scent sent Ghost into a daze. He remembered—though he wasn’t sure what he was remembering. All he knew was that he recognized that smell. 

His body had felt like it was in hibernation, his motors set on autopilot as he mindlessly walked down the halls. But suddenly, Ghost’s true mind was brought to the forefront. And his body craved you, though not in the way he had just moments earlier. He didn’t want to sink his teeth into your neck, he wanted to feel your warmth against him. 

Ghost moved with such dexterity and silence, it was clear he was no longer human. When you stood, his arms immediately wrapped around you, eliciting a scream from your throat. 

Ghost still wasn’t fully comprehending what was happening; all he knew was that his body wanted you. His hand slid up around your neck, leaving a trail of blood on your clothes. He tried to speak, but he couldn't fathom what he wanted to say. All that came out was a strangled groan. 

You sputtered, trying to catch your breath as your heart raced in your chest. Ghost felt for your pulse beneath his fingertips, relishing in the way your blood pumped through your body. 

You turned your head slightly, spying the man who had you trapped against the many shelves in the closet.

It was Simon.

Terror flooded your system. He didn’t look like himself. His eyes were glossed over, his pupils and iris almost unidentifiable, the entirety of his eyes were white, appearing like he was blind. The blood that had soaked his face had congealed, the rusted color running down his clothes where he was shot in the chest and leg. He looked just how you left him, and it sent a sense of terror through you. 

“S-Simon?” You whispered, unsure if you were caught in a nightmare. 

A groan escaped his cracked lips. You gulped. He had become one of them . 

You were certain he was about to tear you apart, just as you had seen other fallen men do to your teammates. You closed your eyes, tears rushing down your cheeks as you prepared for the worst. His hands felt cold around your neck, like ice. You shivered against him. You accepted your fate—a small part of you actually wanted it. You wanted him to end you. To take you down with him. You didn't want to be alone anymore.

He nuzzled his nose against your neck and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for him to bite you. But it never came. 

Instead, he just moved his nose against you, smelling your hair and skin. His hands were still locked tightly against you, but they began to travel across your body. You opened your eyes in shock. Ghost’s hands trailed your chest, groping you with one hand, the other sprawling over the front of your thigh and stomach. You gasped in surprise. 

You felt him harden against you, something you had experienced many times before now, and the familiarity of it made your heart pound with mixed emotions. Your mind was too caught up trying to decipher what was happening to truly take the moment in. 

Ghost’s cold hands slid under your black shirt, snaking their way up to your breasts, cupping each one in his hands. Your nipples immediately hardened from the iciness of his touch. He ground himself against your backside, making you close your eyes in a moment of reprieve. You got lost in the past, imagining this was how it used to be. How he had touched you so many times before. 

You breathed his name and he seemed to like that, for he rolled his hips against you harder, his chest rumbling in satisfaction. 

The cold of his hands left you, making you oddly yearn to have them back on your skin. His fingers traced the hem of your pants before aggressively pulling them down. He got them past the curve of your ass and turned your bodies so your hips hit the edge of a shelving unit that acted as a table. You knocked all the supplies off as Ghost pushed you down against it, using your hands to catch yourself. 

Ghost shuffled with his own pants, wasting no time at all to slip himself inside you. You called out in a brief shock of pain. He held himself deep within you, his hands squeezing as he held you, his body bent over slightly, his chest flat against your back. Your own hands reached out to grab the edge of the table to help steady yourself. The searing heat of you against his frozen skin spread through him like wildfire.

Your cries ignited a flame in Ghost’s chest—the feel of your body, the sound of your gasps, the smell of your hair—felt natural, like this was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. That he was made to take you like this. That your body against him was something so ingrained in his system, that he had no choice to to let his limbs move on muscle memory. 

He began to thrust inside you, your hips hitting the table with each snap of his hips. His hand snaked around your neck, the smear of blood now coating your skin. One of your hands came up to wrap around his wrist, resting it there in support. 

You groaned as he rocked into you harder. The pain from his sudden intrusion had subsided, and now you were filled with a haze of rapture. A tear slid down your cheek. You were unable to process what was happening, but what you did know was that you had missed Simon more than anything and that this wasn’t real. This wouldn’t last longer than this moment in time. 

Ghost’s chest rumbled in pleasure as he thrusted into you. Your walls squeezed around him and he let out a loud groan. His arm not clutching your neck wrapped around your midsection, pulling you away from the table so you were flesh against him. He held you tight, almost like he couldn’t get you close enough. That if he had his way, he’d let you make a home beneath his skin. 

His hips snapped vehemently against you, his pace quickening. You moaned, your sounds coming out strangled as his cold hand held your neck. Your walls tightened around him, your climax rapidly approaching. You couldn’t quite believe that you were not only fucking your dead boyfriend, but you were going to come in record time. 

You were absolutely intoxicating to him as your warmth clenched down on him, your heat something recognizable to him, and yet, the intimacy was foreign at the same time. Now that he was devoid of his usual body temperature, the warm feeling of you around him was almost painful. 

When you mewled and cried under him, your walls spasaming, he drew himself to the edge right behind you. Ghost came inside you with a great urge, growling in your ear as he tried to support the two of you. You felt him fill you, the white fluid seeping out around where his cock continued to pump in and out of you. His movements became sloppy, your legs shaking, your hand clutching onto his wrist for dear life. 

You couldn’t hold back the cascade of tears, finally letting them flow as Ghost slowed his pace before stopping altogether. He edged out of you, his arms hesitantly letting you go, and you immediately turned around to face him, burying your face in his chest. You sobbed as he stood there. His arms didn’t reach out and hold you like he once would. He didn’t try to comfort you like he always did so well. 

But still, he just let you huddle against him, taking what you needed from him. He didn’t attack you. He didn’t try to kill you. He wasn’t himself, but he wasn’t fully gone either. You turned to look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. He looked down and you stifled a cry. His white eyes were going to be permanently burned into your mind, haunting you for eternity. His face was sullen and blanched, blood smearing all across him; fresh blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

You tentatively reached a hand up and rested it on his frozen cheek. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled. Ghost made no indication he could even hear you. 

You took in a deep breath, willing yourself to do this, and stepped back. You adjusted yourself before slowly reaching down for your bag. Ghost stood and watched you, the only thing moving was the tilt of his head as he traced your movements. 

You shuffled to the door, anticipating him to reach out and end this daydream, ripping you apart. But he just watched you go, his mind riddled with foggy thoughts. He wanted to tear into you, but another part of him prevented him from doing so. He wanted to grab you and hold you against him for some reason. He liked the warmth your body provided. But another part of him felt nothing at all. 

He watched you leave in a stupor, his mind just barely grasping onto the image and memory of you. It’s true, he wasn’t completely gone, but he was fading fast. 

You cried violently as you stumbled back to the exit. When you banged on the doors, you heard the plywood being ripped off and the doors swinging open. Soap pulled you back into the base and held you at arm's length. “What happened?” he asked desperately. You were sobbing and covered in blood.

Should you tell him? Would Soap let you return to Simon knowing he wasn’t gone? Or would they make you stay here, letting Simon slip away forever? 

You suddenly regretted leaving him. You should have stayed with Simon, even if he was a shell of who he used to be. You should have waited the time out together until he fully lost himself, and you would let him take you down with him. 

#ghost #simon riley #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #simon riley smut #ghost cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #fluff #angst #ghost angst #cod mw2 #smut #zombie!ghost #modern zombie #cod zombies

[taylormarieee]

Tie's and Trends Miguel O'Hara

Summary: You saw a trend and wanted to try it on Miguel...

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY, Smut, edging, porn with plot, PiV sex, Miguel begging, Switch reader, Switch Miguel, Cream-pie

A/N: This was kind of requested but heres the original post where it all started...

"Miguel! Can I do this to you please!" You ask on your knees begging to do this TikTok trend with him.

He stares at your phone again and you can see the way his mind is racing. Moving like Clockwork.

"I don't know Bebita." He runs. his fingers through his hair. Little did he know you were making those cute puppy dog eyes you know he couldn't resist.

He finally looks down to you still on the floor and see's your face. He mentally curses himself and out loud.

"Mierda, You little-" Before he could finish his sentence your smiling, getting up and sprinting to go find a ribbon.

You. already knew what the answer was because of his reaction. When you finally come back with the ribbon he is staring at you with a look you've seen time and time again, but did you care? Nope!

"This is so stupid." He says as you tie the ribbon around his arms. His arms were a lot larger than others so you needed a slightly longer ribbon.

Once you finish tying it, you step back and observe your man. He looks so cute, yet extremely hot with those bulging veins in his arms.

You observe his hands and ten move down to the sweatpants he's wearing. He always wore sweatpants to tease you.

He knew you couldn't stop looking. Every 5 minutes you tried to at least get one glance of down there before he caught you.

But now? He was dead staring at you with his beautiful brown eyes. That red tint sparkling in the light.

"Miguel..." You whimper. It was supposed to come out nice and clear but more thoughts entered your head.

Miguel sits down and spreads his legs as if he alrfead knows what your about to ask.

"C'mere princess." He whispers motioning to his thigh. You walk over and sit on his thigh. He jolts his leg slightly to tease you.

"Miggy?" You whine out. He raises and eyebrow and smirks. "Yes mama?" He asks.

"Can ride you p-please." You squeak out. You fiddle with your fingers and look down trying to hide from his intense gaze.

"Go on baby..." He replies. When you look up at him a surge of confidence bolts down your spine and you feel the urge to become dominant.

"Your keeping the tie on. And No touching. I mean it." You sday pulling down your pants. He pulls his down halfway, without breaking the ribbon.

You pull them down to his ankles and remove his boxers. His semi-hard cock springs out and soon stiffens at the cool air.

You rub your hand up and down on his cock making precum leak out from the tip.

You quickly lined yourself up with his dick and slid down on him. You moaned out as you felt his huge cock stretch you out. He throws his head back in pleasure dying to touch you.

He knows he could break out of this ribbon but for you and your wishes, he has decided to keep it on until you say otherwise.

"Yea? You like that Miguel?" You ask as you roll your hips in that way that has Miguel cumming in seconds.

"y-yes, oh fuck... Meirda my love!" He says tightening his fists in the sheets.

"You gonna cum for me Miggy? Huh baby?" You taunt bouncing on his deliciously huge cock. You feel him all in your stomach.

You move your hand close to his throat as you roll your hips, lifting your hips and sinking slowly back down on him.

"Please mama, let m-me cum. Please? I-I've been good." Miguel whimpers out. His eyes wide and glossy.

You nod your head and he suddenly rips out of the ribbon dying to hold you while he shoots his delicious load inside you.

He flips you over a fucks into you to keep his load in. Something animalistic emerges from him as he roughly thrusts into you.

You cry out before you orgasm comes rushing through you. You scratch at Miguels back leaving red fresh marks.

"OH Fuck Miguel! Yes, give it to me please!" You cry out. He gives you what you want. He helps you ride out your high before pulling out.

He watches as his cum drips from your abused pussy and admires you in your fucked out state.

"I hated that." Miguel speaks out into the silence. You look up at him and prop yourself up on your elbows.

"Too bad, we're so doing that again." You say with a teasing smirk on your face.

He whines and whimpers at the fact that you want to do it again but you can see him trying so hard not to smile at the idea.

You loved your good little boy Miguel O'Hara...

Strictly written for ( @luvrxbunny , @queerponcho and @sunve1ns)

Taglist: @obviouslynini @itzdarling @grixonsdoll @aerangi @

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara x you #sub miguel o'hara

[hairmetal666]

Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.

And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.

They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--

Steve Harrington is his bed.

They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--

They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.

They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.

Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.

Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.

Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.

They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.

After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.

He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--

"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.

"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.

Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.

Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or

It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--

Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.

Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.

He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."

Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."

They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.

There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.

"Stop," he whispers to Steve.

Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.

"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."

"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"

"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."

"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."

"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.

"Then we'll deal with it together."

"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."

--

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.

A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.

Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.

They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.

"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.

"Hey yourself."

"It's Bi Visibility day."

"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going

"I want to come out."

He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"

Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.

"How do you want to do it?"

He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.

They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.

Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.

The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.

Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.

He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"

"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.

"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"

Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #actors steve harrington and eddie munson #costars #hooking up #fluff #costars to lovers #idiots in love #feelings confession #coming out #bisexual steve harrington #it's not bi visibility day but i liked eddie using it as a come on #famous steve harrington #famous eddie munson #i don't totally know what this is

[ellemj]

Right Here: 12 Days of Smut #6

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

Summary: The team decides to interrupt your spicy moment with Bucky. The two of you have to sit through a debate about Christmas movies while being as discrete as possible about what's going on beneath the blanket that's covering both of your laps.

Warnings: profanity, teasing, cockwarming, slight exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, sex in a common area, dirty talk, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 1.8k (it's a lil one)

A/N: I let @littlemiss-yeehaw read this first and her biggest concern was that I originally spelled Santa Clause without an 'e' on the end and she wasn't having it. But special thanks to her for catching my embarrassing mistakes and keeping me from having a big head.

            It’s so damn big. It’s so big that you don’t know how the hell you’re supposed to sit still and stay quiet enough to make it through the next fifteen minutes until everyone has gone their separate ways for bed. It’s so big that even just taking a deep breath is too much movement for your body to handle. It is so fucking big that Bucky doesn’t know how you’re taking it so well. He knows his size is pushing you right to the edge of your limits, he knows you’re probably feeling more pain than pleasure in this moment, and honestly, all of that only makes him want to hold you here longer.

            Bucky probably doesn’t even know that there’s a word for what you’re doing right now. You know he’s still a decent bit behind the times when it comes to modern-day dating and sexual education, so there’s no way he would have the vocabulary to accurately describe what this is. It’s cockwarming. If he knew the word for it, he’d add it to his list of favorite things. He might even go as far as writing it down in that little notebook he got from Steve. It’s the best thing he’s experienced since the first time he slept with you.

            “Come on, nothing beats the original Santa Clause movies with Tim Allen. You can’t tell me that you really think Home Alone is better.” Sam says while giving Wanda a look of disbelief. The group has been arguing back and forth about Christmas movies for the last five minutes. You and Bucky had been watching, or more accurately listening to whatever festive flick was suggested first when you’d originally settled in for a movie by yourself.  It wasn’t long before Bucky finished up in the gym, showered, and found you looking all irresistible on the couch. You were curled up under your little fleece blanket with a mug of hot cocoa in one hand and the other hand running through your hair. You barely even noticed Bucky when he joined you on the couch, completely invested in the most mediocre movie you could’ve chosen. That’s when he started running a hand up your thigh, innocently at first. He let his fingertips grace your skin so lightly, gliding back and forth from your knee up to the hem of your little pajama shorts. He liked the way you tried to pretend that it didn’t give you goosebumps or make your panties a little wetter than before. He knew that he had you right where he wanted you when he let his pinky finger brush over the fabric of your panties, just underneath your shorts, and you didn’t make a single move to stop him. In fact, you actually spread your legs a little more for him, giving him a silent go-ahead. Somehow, all of that built up and led to where you are now, firmly seated on his lap with your shorts and panties pulled to the side, silently sitting with Bucky’s entire length buried deep inside of you.          

            The Christmas movie argument drones on around you with no sign of dying off as you fight to breathe as slow and even as you can. Bucky’s impressive girth has always been an adjustment for you, no matter how many times you’ve fucked. He always has to give you a minute or two to get used to his size before pushing himself all the way in, but there wasn’t any time for that tonight. He had been watching the tip of his cock disappear inside of you when you both heard the commotion in the hallway, warning you that you were about to be interrupted by the rest of the team. Your first instinct was to get off of him and take your seat beside him on the couch but Bucky just couldn’t let that happen, so he gripped your hips even tighter and pulled you all the way down onto his lap. You let a whimper escape your lips at the stinging pain you felt increasing with every inch that penetrated your tight little entrance, but quickly silenced yourself and sat still as Bucky arranged the throw blanket just right to cover both of you from prying eyes.

            “You’re so fucking tight. If you don’t relax, you’re going to make me cum in front of everyone.” Bucky grunts in your ear, his words so hushed and whispered that no one could have possibly heard him except for you. You take a deep breath, trying your best to relax around him. You focus in on Wanda’s speech about why Home Alone is the superior Christmas movie, but your focus is quickly broken when you feel Bucky’s right hand slip under the blanket and slide along the outside of your thigh. You want to tell him to keep his hands to himself, to calm the fuck down until you can get away from everyone and have a little privacy, but there’s no way for you to do that without revealing your current situation to everyone. So, you sit there, gently biting on your bottom lip as Bucky’s fingers reach your clit and begin rubbing agonizingly slow circles. After a few seconds of stimulation, you can feel the stinging pain of Bucky’s cock stretching your walls residing.

            “That’s it, you’re getting used to it, aren’t you?” Bucky whispers, referring to the size of his cock. You let out a sigh but don’t even offer him a nod in response, too scared that someone will start to suspect something’s going on underneath the thin blanket. “My cock isn’t too big for you, huh baby?” Fuck. He knows it’s too big for you, but he also knows how determined you always are to get used to it and take it all just for him. You’ve always been ambitious. Bucky speeds up his actions on your clit, and you’re just starting to feel that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach when he spreads his index and middle fingers apart and slides them further in between your legs. It’s a new sensation for both of you as you feel his fingers slip between your folds and go around either side of where his dick is currently buried inside you. You feel Bucky shudder beneath you at how wet you are for him. He so wishes he could try adding a finger in alongside his dick, but he knows it would be too much for you, especially when you’re supposed to be staying quiet. He’ll save it for the next time he has you all to himself.

            You’re sick of the Christmas movie talk. You’re sick of not being able to ride Bucky’s cock until you’re a mutual mess of sweat and cum. You’re sick of sitting here so still and stoic. So, just as you think the Christmas movie talk might be nearing a close, you stretch your arms up above your head and let out an audible yawn. That small movement alone causes Bucky to move his hands to your hips abruptly, gripping you tightly as a warning for you to stop moving. You smile and pretend it’s a smile at whatever the hell Sam is saying about Santa Clause. Testing the waters, you circle your hips once, as discretely as possible. You grind down on Bucky’s cock, letting your clit press against his balls, sending a nice little rush of pleasure throughout your body.

Shit. Bucky needs everyone gone. He needs you alone right fucking now. He needs the chance to flip you over so you’re face down and ass up on the couch, giving him the perfect angle and opportunity to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to remember what holiday you’re celebrating tomorrow. Bucky holds your hips so tightly that he knows your perfect smooth skin will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he couldn’t care less. He keeps you still on his cock until Wanda and Vision finally stand up and bid their goodnights, heading off to bed. That leaves the two of you, Sam, and Torres. The two men remain in the living area for another two minutes until Bucky’s cold stare and your oddly out-of-character lack of conversational skills drives them both back to their separate rooms.

As soon as Bucky hears the final bedroom door shut in the distance, he’s lifting you off of his cock and tossing you onto the couch.

“Bucky, not here.” You laugh lightly at his impatience.

“Oh, we’re doing this right here. Don’t move.” Just to make sure you won’t move, Bucky places his vibranium hand over your middle back and pushes you down until you’re in the exactly position he wanted you in, before pulling your shorts and panties to the side once more with his right hand and slotting the head of his cock into your entrance. He doesn’t give you the usual amount of time to adjust, since you just sat on his entire length for so long. Instead, he slams into you and then watches as you quickly clamp a hand over your mouth. He doesn’t care how loud your bodies sound as they collide over and over again with each thrust. He doesn’t give the slightest shit that anyone could walk in right now. All Bucky cares about is feeling you come undone all over his cock.

He fucks you with every bit of pent-up frustration he’s withheld for the last fifteen minutes, dragging his cock out of you before pushing it back in repeatedly. You know he’s close when his vibranium hand leaves your back and he uses both hands to grip your hips and pull you back to meet every thrust. With your hand clamped over your mouth still, you fail to warn Bucky that you’re right on the edge of an orgasm, but you don’t even have to. He can feel the way your walls are clenching around his shaft and the way your legs are fighting to spread even more so he can reach impossibly deeper inside you. You want more, you need more.

Bucky snakes his flesh hand between your legs and begins giving your clit the stimulation that it needs to force an orgasm out of you. He fucking hates when you hold it back. As your orgasm rips through your body, causing your legs to tremble and pussy to tighten around his cock even more, Bucky continues to fuck into you until he can’t contain himself. He copies your annoying little move, refusing to tell you that he’s close. You figure it out yourself when you hear a deep groan rumble past his lips and feel him thrust one final time, making sure he’s balls-deep before filling you with his cum. He ends the night with one simple question, as he pulls his length out of you and situates your panties and pajama shorts back where they belong.

“So, do you have a favorite Christmas movie?”

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@charmedbysarge @gyokujyn @mrsjoequinn @thealloveru2 @nixxaswrld @ordelixx @sweettae02 @frombkjar @hellfirebabe @edelweissbarnes @claireelizabeth85 @fandomsfeminismandme  @sunnyhummingbee @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @crist1216 @twlkdead

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #winter soldier #bucky barnes fic #12 days of smut

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster - 

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

#wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #ive smut #male reader #kpop smut #capslocked kinkvember

[ma1dita]

a wish your heart makes

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.4k

summary: (established relationship) The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. You try to do something nice for your boyfriend and everything goes wrong, or so you think. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: I thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come ho—OH FUCK OFF, UNCLE RICK. sidenote this haunted me.

(posted 1/26/24 unbetad)

—

Luke’s dreams were always different from yours. 

Both when he’s awake and holding your hand up until sleep finally rips him away from your earthly embrace, he’s always been certain of who he was and what he wants to achieve. To be a hero providing salvation for the needy, to be a half-blood son worth the love of a god, and to be a fierce soldier, leading his troop into battle for glory. These are the thoughts he routinely pounds into his brain, so much so that anyone who knows him knows of his aspirations.

You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone so insistent on wanting to be remembered. Luke wants to leave a legacy worth dying for, worth talking about for millenia to come. And your boy persists, despite the trials of life, the ignorance of his father, and the strings of the Fates.

Your dreams, however, were always much simpler. 

Cuddled under your covers and brushing your lips against Luke’s forehead to quell the growing unease that occupies his brain, you whisper what you deeply wish for.

“We’re getting old,” you mumble, and the breath of his laugh tickles your ear. He lazily runs his nose against the slope of your collarbone, sighing when he finally hears the steady beat of your chest, “We’ve definitely surpassed the average life expectancy of a typical demigod. Look at us…” he jests.

Your breath jumps in amusement as you feel his lips against your sternum, and then your boyfriend is smiling against your heart, using you for comfort as you both pass the time waiting for Hypnos to come calling.

“In a year, we’ll be nineteen…And I know you never wanted to stay here forever, so… What’s next?”

You hold in a bated breath, always unsure of where to place yourself in rank of his priorities. Who were you if not his biggest supporter?

Luke contemplates for a moment in the silence of your bedroom. It’s much easier to think and have more adult… conversations… without the many meddling children of cabin 11 always asking for one more lullaby, one more glass of water, and one more tuck-in goodnight. Here in the privacy of your room, he gets to be a boy void of his responsibilities besides hiding under his girlfriend’s duvet, giving her another shirt of his to wear, and kissing her until Apollo’s rays of light gently help you wake.

“You tell me, trouble. What does the future have in store for us?”

Us.

He’s sweet to indulge in your fantasies like this, and you stroke your fingers through his curls as you speak, ‘I think it’d be nice to go to college. Made it this far, so maybe being normal won’t be so hard…”

A soft noise leaves his throat, urging you to continue as you bite your lip and smile.

“Maybe someday, we could get a house. One on top of a hill. I don’t need much, something like the Big House, but one we can call home.”

You can feel the teeth of his sleepy grin against your skin as he whispers the next words into your heart.

“We could do that. House with big bay windows, and the smell of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies in the air. Sounds nice, baby.”

And it does.

Luke’s eyes flutter shut shortly after, but your mind is awake with how to make the dream you now share a reality. Perhaps you couldn’t give him glory, or pray hard enough to Hermes so that he’d talk to his son, but you reckon that chocolate chip cookies would be easy enough. 

—

At least, it was supposed to be—until you set off the smoke alarm again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

Clouds of grey are billowing from the communal kitchen oven after your multiple attempts of trying to get this right. The dryads had both partially given up on the havoc you wrecked upon their workspace as well as your increasing frustration towards them. It wasn’t their fault, you knew that—but as a perfectionist who followed the recipe to a t, how was it possible that everything was still going wrong? The first batch, you got too excited and mixed all the ingredients together, making them lumpy and inconsistent. The second batch was over-creamed, and you had to scrape them off the tray, and with this one… well you had the oven setting on a bit too high.

You sigh deeply, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes as you try to will away the mania creeping up your neck. Being the daughter of the god of insanity was hard, having to consistently control your emotions for the sake of others. Taking a shaky breath, you stare blankly at the darkened cookies, close to being burned to a crisp. The jingle of the windchime against the door rings across the room and you barely hear it until you feel Luke’s hands skate past your waist to go open a window.

“What’d you get into now, trouble? Been looking for you,” he says, coughing lightly from the smoke.

You groan, trying to cover the mess behind you on the counter and accidentally catching your arm on the hot tray, making you flinch.

“Ow! Ugh, babe, you’re not supposed to be here yet! I thought you were still sparring…”

Your boyfriend approaches you, squeezing your arm to examine if you’ve gotten hurt and tugging you towards him.

“That was an hour ago—how long have you been here, baby?” Luke pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss on your warm wrist, instantly soothing your anxiety until you see his eyes meet your latest failure.

“You bake now?”

“Clearly not, Luke, I’m sorry…I tried but I kept getting it wrong and then I got mad at myself for fucking up something so…” your voice weakens, tears welling in your eyes again thinking you’ve disappointed him.

Luke steps away from you and towards the kitchen counter, warm cookies browned to a crisp. He reaches out to pick one up before you can stop him, crunching down on it, the bittersweet taste filling his mouth as he sniffs.

Just like his mother would make them, through her madness and all.

He’s transported back to a memory of a house with big bay windows, kind of like the one you two dreamt up last night, but he’s nine and sitting at the kitchen table drinking Kool-Aid while his mom makes peanut butter sandwiches. May Castellan forgets the cookies in the oven again, and for a moment, Luke forgets that the last time he saw his mother was a lifetime ago. 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels your fingertips brushing away the saltwater from his cheeks.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, angelface, I’m sorry…” you mumble, but stop speaking when you see him take another bite.

“They’re great.”

“What?”

He chomps on another singed cookie, his lips quirking into a soft smile. Luke’s not going to let you throw the rest of this batch out. Chuckling weakly, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter as he slots himself between your legs, rough hands patting your thighs.

“Well, they’re not great. But they’re perfect. Just the way I remember them,” he smiles, kissing the furrow in your brow. You don’t bother trying to comprehend his statement, happy that you didn’t mess up a memory he holds dear. 

Luke wonders if maybe he’s been blessed by his father after all, to have such extreme luck to exist at the same time as you. He doesn’t answer to the gods, to fate, but he does answer when you call his name, and settles into your arms. Love is an action after all, uncontained by just words, and he knows you tried your best, which makes it more than enough.

“She would’ve loved you, I’m sure of it,” he says rubbing his nose against yours before you can interject again, “I love you, so I know she would’ve too.”

Luke presses a tender kiss against the palm that caresses his jaw, before meeting you in the middle and finding your lips. It’s a dance you two have memorized, sweet and breathless as you meld both of your grins together. To him, you taste like chocolate chips and feel like home.

“I love you too, angelface. Almost burned the kitchen down for you,” your chuckle is cut off when he goes to press against your pout again hungrily, tracing patterns against the soft skin of your thighs as he just eats you up. The sound of your moans escapes between kisses as you wind your legs around his waist and it dampens the sound of the kitchen timer when it goes off. 

(You forcibly have to detach from Luke’s embrace, much to his displeasure so that you don’t burn the next batch too.)

—

"Your name is humming inside my chest. I think this is what it means to love. I think this is what it means to be living." -Emma Bleker

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[simpjaes]

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT. 2 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part one | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 21.8k

CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 

NOTE ― you must read part one to understand the story. anyway i did not mean to go in so deep with jungwon, i just really fucking adore him please forgive me. anyway, this is briefly edited. if you see a typo, shhhhhh, i don't wanna know.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“My love, let me.” 

You sit up only to be eased back onto the soft mattress. Pillows plush against your head as Sunghoon dabs away at each puncture he’s left on you. 

“You know you can’t sit up so quickly, just rest and let me.” 

You’re littered with his bites by now and you only grow more and more enamored with the feeling of it. Or, perhaps you just enjoy the fact that he’s fixated on drinking from you. Multiple times a day, until your fingers and toes are numb, until you can barely stand without dropping to the floor. 

Enamored through all of it, really. With the way he bites so gently only to suck harder and harder until his fingers grip and pierce through your skin much like his teeth do. He’ll hold you so hard through it, forcing arousal to run through you every single time he goes for that artery in your thigh. You think that’s his favorite spot to bite, if the dozens of wounds there are anything to go by. Truly, you’re enamored with him, always wanting to give him more just so he stays with you longer. 

You seem to have lost yourself in the lust of it all. The fantasy, the desire. On the brink of insanity, you know you’ve grown obsessed with what Sunghoon does to you, and it’s to the point that you don’t question yourself like you normally would. Your desire for this is too strong, far too intimidating to doubt. 

But since that night, he always leaves you with blood against his lips. Aroused, frustrated, confused. Never once letting a hand stray too far, never letting his lips trace anywhere but to your wounds or new expanse of skin that needs to be bitten. 

For days now you’ve been here. You lay here one full day since you were supposed to be back at work too, just waiting for the moment Sunghoon will do more than just drink from you. Mostly for a confirmation. It feels like you’re forcing yourself to go missing for this alone and every night you lie awake in this room waiting, wanting more from him now than you think you ever have.

The room you're in now is lonely, though adorned nearly as beautiful as the one you were in the night Sunghoon stole you away. You know the place you want to be is just down the hall, but your legs won’t carry you there no matter how much you try. He’s rendered you bed ridden and you miss it there, with his silk sheets and candle lit walls. 

Then again, maybe it’s not the room at all that you miss. Maybe it’s just Sunghoon.

You can’t help but note that when he’s on you or next to you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. But when you’re alone, you feel your skin crawl with such immense anxiety that you nearly want to scream out for him to come back. Several times already you have called out for him mere moments after he’s left the room. It gives you hope in knowing that each time, he does return to you even if just for a moment. 

All of it is very arousing when he comes to you, but it’s killing you inside to know that he does nothing more than feed off of you. You get nothing out of it but his presence, and perhaps he expects that to be enough. It’s driving you insane to give everything you have to him so willingly, knowing he hasn’t offered anything back to you. 

The fact that you want this, you want him, and you want to be the only blood he craves? It’s a feeling you’ve had to accept, because trying to deny it at this point would only lead you down a more destructive path. As if the one you’re on now isn’t already killing you, if not physically, emotionally. You want to be the person lying in his bed again so badly. You want to show him that you’re no longer terrified. You want to give him equal arousal and interest. 

But he doesn’t offer it. No, he simply bites. 

“I can do it.” You say to him in a frustrated sigh. “I’m not helpless, you know.” 

He’s taken aback by the way you rip the gauze from his hands, sitting up and scooting away from him when you dip it into the bowl of alcohol. Your head spins at the act, but you push through the weakness anyway, knowing he doesn’t like the distance you’re creating between him and you. 

You don’t like the distance either, but it’s helpful to know he doesn’t ignore it. 

“I’m aware.” Sunghoon narrows his eyes at the way your heart is beating for him right now, taking the gauze back from you and gripping your arm to pull you back and against him. “Why are you being difficult?” 

He cleans a wound just under your jaw as he looks at you, waiting for you to answer him. You stare back as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, not wincing at all like you previously had when he lets the alcohol burn the swollen punctures.

“Hah, so you can’t read minds?” You confirm for yourself, though you had the suspicion that he couldn’t. “You just keep doing this–” You continue, trying not to sound as if you’re nagging. “And nothing else.”

He tilts his head as he moves the gauze to another part of your neck, knowing full well what it is you want. 

“Nothing else?” He repeats in a sly question. “Is there more you want?”

You nod slightly, feeling the cold alcohol send a shiver across your skin, your head finally clearing of the dizziness just from sitting up.

“Name it.” 

Somehow, you lose the ability to ask for what you want. It feels silly to be mad that he hasn’t given you any sexual pleasure despite feeding off of you for days now. Is it insane that sex is all you want in return? Should you ask for financial compensation or something? 

“Ah.” He answers for you with an all-knowing smirk, his nostrils flaring as he inhales your scent. “You want pleasure, yes?”

“Do you not?” You ask simply, and he pulls back with the gauze to look at you dumbfounded. 

For a solid twenty seconds the two of you stare at each other before he’s dropping the gauze into the bowl and pulling you against him in full, turning your body so that your back is to his chest. His strong arms are still cold, but you feel warm enough against him like this.

“It pleases me to know you want it.” He smiles against the top of your head. “Unfortunately, I have other things to tend to.” He continues, pausing to hold you a bit closer. “I still have to feed, love, and I still need to maintain order here. I cannot just spread your legs every waking minute.” 

You’re not asking for him to fuck you every waking minute. It makes you feel as if he’s annoyed to even use such words regarding this. Still, your cheeks warm at his sweet voice. 

“As much as I’d like to.” 

Oh. Your cheeks aren’t just warm, they’re on fire at those words. You’d grasp at anything right now, despite feeling like an afterthought. You don’t like that you’re not a priority to him, even though he fucking feeds on you consistently. To the point you can’t even stand for a full minute without fucking fainting from blood loss. Still, you accept his words and try to think of the positives over the negatives. 

Unfortunately, you’ll never be satisfied with just his words and a mere ten seconds later you’re right back to questioning, doubting, and feeling upset. 

So he can feed this often, but not even slip a finger into you through it? 

Priorities. He has to feed, he said? Does he not already?! 

“Wait, Sunghoon, you do feed.” You argue. “On me.” 

He shakes his head at your ignorance of believing he’ll ever truly have enough of you. Even past death, he’ll never have enough. Which is precisely why you’re still breathing. 

“There are needs I have that you’ve yet to understand. You satiate the hunger, yes, but that is nothing more than a feeling, not a truth.” 

You try to comprehend his words but fall short. Only because that would mean–

“You’re becoming afraid again,” He comments on your heart rate. “Calm yourself, darling, the need within me is no fault of my own and I’ll continue to keep you from seeing the act take place.”

There’s silence from you as you try to calm yourself down. Of course he has to feed, but…is that not what he’s already been doing to you? Your heart isn’t racing from fear, it’s racing from–jealousy.

“So, mine isn’t enough?” You feel your heart shatter a bit when you voice it, knowing full well that for him to be full, he likely has to kill.

Why are you jealous? Well, if you’re so irresistible like he says you are, why does he hold back? Why are you still alive? Does your blood not taste as good as whoever else he’s been having at? Why does he keep you around, but no one else? Maybe they’re the ones who are irresistible, and you’re just a placeholder for if he can’t find his meal for the night. Maybe he’s just using you. 

“Hmm.” Sunghoon thinks hard at your question. “You’re feeling envious?” 

You don’t respond to him or the way he clocks your jealousy, and instead shake his grip off of you before grabbing the gauze yourself again.

He watches you take the material and dip it into the liquid, moving it down your legs and to the assault of wounds against your thigh. 

“You’re truly strange.” He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs, listening closely to the artery you have there, always so hungry for more but knowing he need not drink for the time being. After all, he’s just eaten. “Almost as unnatural as I am.” 

You have to force back a smile at the truth of his words though, softening at the way he compares you to him like the two of you fit together perfectly. The jealousy rages within you, but so does this strange adoration you have for him. 

“To think I don’t crave you? Have I not shown you already?” 

“Hmm, you might need to remind me.” You’re being playful now, trying to get what you want. Entirely thankful for the way he solves every problem you have with him in your head even if just for a moment.

You think you’ll always miss him on a deeper level than just sitting and speaking though.

“When can I leave the room?” You ask now, suddenly. “When can I come back to your room?” 

Sunghoon doesn’t fight his own smile, loving the way you stay of your own free will, even while upset with him for not giving you more than that single night of love making. 

“Not yet, love.” He mutters now, knowing that it’s not likely for you to be able to make it down the hallway without calling for his help, also knowing that he can’t give you what you want again so soon. 

“Oh.” You look at him, face falling. “Let me guess, because you have better shit to do.” 

“Still so envious.” He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’ll learn soon enough how I need you.” 

Just, not yet. 

After all, he drinks you until he has no choice but to stop. Multiple times a day, draining you until it’s near dangerous. The fact that you enjoy it drives him to do it more and more. 

You think it’s easy for him to utilize self-control around you? You think he doesn’t want to experience you in every way you can offer? With those pretty sounds you make? God, he misses the way your body hugged his cock so much. You’re out of your mind to think he’s holding out on you because he doesn’t want it. Because you're not good enough? Stupid, stupid girl. 

He needs it. He wants it. He’s fucking obsessed with what you do to him.

You’re truly not the only one trying to adjust to this situation. He has to be very careful with you, and having sex with you could very well break the resolve he’s forced into himself. A simple touch from you that feels too good could have him acting on a split second decision, drinking until you’re dead and cold, just like him. 

Essentially, he has to train himself to your scent and taste. Sure, he’s been fucking nearly every victim since his cock started working again, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’d rather it be you. In fact, the only reason he’s fucking them is to satiate the need to destroy everything that you are for his own desire of having you. 

The issue is that his drive to kill is insanely high, smelling you just down the hall makes every new victim taste better. It makes his cock fuck harder, it makes their bodies feel almost good enough for him to release. But they’re not you, and it’s rendering him unable to control himself. 

His recent victims? Oh, it ends so gruesomely. He feels overheated in the moment, drenched, fucking feral when he makes his kill. Wishing it was you, ignoring the scent of the person beneath him just to smell you from a different room. 

If he gets his hands on you when he’s in that state of mind again, you’ll be gone forever. That’s something Sunghoon wouldn’t be able to live with. Already he’s controlled himself through it once and that may very well have been the hardest thing he’s done in his life. He can’t promise that he can hold back again.

Until he can feed and fuck without feeling his instinct grab him by the throat, he cannot do more than small feedings with you. That alone is training all on its own, because every single time he feeds, he struggles not to take all of it. 

Bit by bit. Sunghoon has to take you piece by fucking piece. And your willingness to do it, entirely awake and aware, makes it all the more difficult. 

He can’t tell you this. Not yet, at least. You’d know the danger you’re in. Nor can he pretend like he will let you leave out of fear. He needs to keep this peace with you until he can truly enjoy you in a way that will ensure you’ll be alive and well after the fact.

And so, he changes the subject, grabbing you even tighter and hugging you in the way any modern boyfriend would. This. This is something he can handle.

“Are you bored of me carrying you across the room?” He asks. “Do you miss walking on your own two feet that much, if just to make it to my room?” He smiles now, making jokes with you that feel a bit dry when it hits your ears. 

“Are you implying that I’m a slut?” You laugh at his attempt to make you smile, slapping against his cold arm playfully. “That the only reason I want to leave this room is to come into yours and fuck you?” 

He shrugs from behind you, hugging tighter, wanting to be under your skin with that beating heart.

“Am I not right to assume? You little harlot.” 

Well, he got you there. 

And you laugh with him about it, living in your little fantasy world like this never has to end. Reality looms taller than Sunghoon does, unfortunately. 

He can feel your heart rate pick up when your laugh slows down. 

“But, Sunghoon, I can’t stay here for much longer like this.” You drop it on him like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and oh how he wishes you could just disappear with him. “I haven’t been home, my phone is there and I’m sure people have been calling.”

His eyes darken at your words as he pushes you from his grasp. Already you wish to leave? After complaining to him about what he doesn’t give you? Is that why you’re saying this right now? No sex means you’ll leave? 

Serves him right for not using the pull on you. He should have kept hold of your mind rather than relish in your willingness. 

“I’ve missed work already.” Your voice gets smaller as you watch him move from the bed and stand in front of you, the scent of cinnamon assaulting your nose along with his darkened and intimidating facial expression. “I– I’ll–come back. I promise.” You cower immediately.

Sunghoon shakes his head at you. 

“Did I not make myself clear?” He deepens his voice, unsure of how to handle his own internal panic. “Never have I let a commoner leave this cathedral alive and knowing the truth.” 

“Are you–threatening me?” You ask, scooting away from him and accidentally knocking over the bowl of alcohol with your foot. 

“Did you not just say you envy the others? Envy dying by my hand?” He questions you back, looming over you in an intimidating stance. Suddenly much, much taller than reality.  “Every time you’ve said you’d come back, you’ve done no such thing. Have I upset you this much?”

You frantically shake your head. 

“No, no!” You lift your hands in defense, reaching out to his towering figure. “I want to be here with you! You just said yourself that you have things to tend to, so do I! If I don’t show up at work, or at least have my phone, people will have the fucking cops out and looking for me!” 

Sunghoon softens, cinnamon air fading out within a second. He feels only slightly ashamed of his immediate outburst when all you can offer back to him is truth. Perhaps you’re the only one living in the real world, even if he’s been living in it for far, far, longer. 

You’ve pulled him into a fantasy, just like he has for you. He truly let himself forget that you’re no victim that’s meant to die. You can’t just disappear without question, and already it has been days. 

Still, you can’t just leave him. 

“I see.” He says, reaching down to grab at the hands you have clinging to his clothes in an attempt to calm himself more than you. “Shall I retrieve your device for you then?” 

You slowly nod, looking away from him and ignoring the fact that as much as you do want to be here with him, the fact that he just implied that you can never leave is a bit– um, intense. So, you don’t argue when you nod to him. If anything, to keep the peace.

“I’ll see to it that you have it in your hands by tonight. And in time, I’ll invite you back to my quarters.” Ending his sentence with a bribe to keep you here felt fitting, and he’s thankful for the way you accept it. 

You nod quicker now, entirely satisfied with his words when he steps back and away from you. 

“Now, please finish cleaning your wounds. I don’t want to taste infection in you.” 

Despite feeling better about it, wanting him still, those words hurt you. You feel insulted by the time he leaves you alone in the room. Like if you got an infection he’d simply lose interest in you, or perhaps end this love of your blood he has. 

He may even just go ahead and kill you if that were to happen.

It drives you to clean yourself twice over. Three times over. Unwilling to lose the feeling of someone biting you so gently, unwilling to die because your use to him has run out. And it feels like you clean yourself all day. To the point you’re probably making yourself more susceptible to infection rather than protecting yourself from it. 

And in this room, time doesn’t exist. There’s a window indicating where the sun is in the sky, but hours and minutes are meaningless. Only when the sun is up do you start counting, knowing that Sunghoon will only visit you during nightfall. 

You clean yourself for what you assume to be hours upon hours, all the way up until the sun falls and you hear the door creak open. You expect to see Sunghoon coming in for his routine of drinking from you, but instead, you find a pale-eyed nun rush to you with your phone and immediately leave after. 

A quick presence is gone within a moment, but you pay no mind as you look down at your phone. You’re thankful for the fact that it’s probably been on the charger all four days you’ve been gone. Considering, well, there’s no electricity this high up in the cathedral, you’ll have to save your battery as best as you can. 

So many missed calls. 

Even more missed texts. 

Dozens of emails. 

Jungwon.

In the morning after you left your apartment, he checked in with you. All throughout the day too. It wasn’t until that same night where his texts became frantic. A little, “i’m coming over, fuck you if you get mad at me for it.” followed by “are you mad at me? why won’t you respond?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Really though, it hurts your heart to have forgotten about him entirely during your time here. Reading through his texts, you see him fight with himself over your absence. Up until yesterday, where he texts you from the museum. 

A glaring “stopped by again today only to realize your apartment was unlocked this whole time. i’m with your boss now, we are calling the cops if you don’t respond within the next ten seconds.” 

A full day late, you respond quickly. 

You: wonnie!!! i’m sorry! I got sad and went home to see my mom. totally ignored my phone…and forgot to lock the door i guess

You: you know, hormones lol 

Immediate spam. Your phone vibrates aggressively back to back with his frantic texts. 

Wonnie: you have to be fucking JOKING

Wonnie: NOT A SINGLE WORD FROM YOU. YOU COULD HAVE CALLED WORK OR

SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE ELSE’S PHONE. I WAS AT YOUR PLACE EVERY DAY.

Wonnie: i CANNOT believe you!!!!!!!!!!!

Wonnie: your whole ass apartment was unlocked and you weren’t there! anyone could’ve walked right in!!!!! are you stupid or something? 

Wonnie: are you home now?

Wonnie: i’m so mad at you FUCK

Wonnie: i got so scared

Wonnie: im coming over

You panic. 

You: wait, i’m not home yet. I didn’t mean to stay so long, I promise ill be home soon and fill you in on everything. 

Wonnie: call your boss. 

Wonnie: ill deal with the cops, then im gonna be waiting outside of your apartment

Wonnie: don’t ever fucking do that shit again, been crying all morning

Wonnie: i hate you so much right now, im never talking to you again

Wonnie: get your stupid ass back home 

You smile fondly at his worry, but the smile is short lived as you know you probably can’t leave here. Not only from the fact that Sunghoon appears to be unwilling to let you leave but you…don’t want to.

Still, you do need to call your boss, and you make quick work of it. Sitting dissociated through the mindless scolding of your terrible lie of an excuse, and then the following call from the local police department. 

Arguably, speaking to the police was easier than knowing you’ll have to lie to Jungwon again. At least the police are aware that you’re a grown woman who can disappear if she wishes. Jungwon, on the other hand, requires a little more care and consideration. 

You’re tired by the time you lay your phone down, unable to keep your eyes open as you drift off. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Some time later, you wake to the same familiar scent of Sunghoon wafting from under your door. It doesn’t process yet in your brain that you’ve not smelled it since the night you wandered from your apartment. But now? Oh, it’s strong. 

It’s very, very strong. 

Your drowsy eyes look to the door as your legs carry you there, and out you go. Down the hallway, straight to those big doors, straight through those big doors.

The scent burns in your throat the moment you step inside, blurry eyes witnessing two figures right there on the floor. The only clear thing you can make out are his darkened narrowed eyes, only because your brain refuses to process the act taking place in front of you at first.

He looks…rabid. Hair is a mess, sticky and dripping with thick metallic liquid. 

Oh, it sounds so loud. The squelching and the smacking of skin. Your stomach drops, the pit inside of it flourishing with nothing short of rotted desire. 

Right there on the floor of his room lies a woman seemingly experiencing god. Sunghoon is moaning with his eye trained on your shocked figure. He ignores the woman’s aroused grasps against his arms to keep his eyes trained on you. And he just…smirks through it, licking his lips, rolling his eyes back only for them to fall right back to you.

The squelching rings in your ears as he moves faster, feverishly chasing a hunt he’s already got lying beneath him. Almost as if catching him in the act aroused him more than he already had been. Like he’s showing you how much more he’d prefer someone else over you. 

He moans your name inwardly again and again, as if to call you forward to him but your feet can no longer move as you process the act with each call of your name. 

He’s fucking her. He’s devouring her. 

Not you. Her. 

You can feel your heart shrivel at the act when you stumble back, a twisting pain in your chest that you feel silly over. You barely know Sunghoon, but somehow it feels like he’s given you more of himself than he has anyone else. He speaks that way to you, anyway. Always with the words of “I’ve never done this, until you.” 

That was a lie. You’re seeing it now with your own two eyes and you’re paying for believing that you, somehow, could be special. And the pain in your chest travels all throughout your body at the fact that you let this man bite you. You let him take and take until you could barely stand, until you could barely think, until you were right on the cusp of death. 

And you still want to do that for him. But now? He’s grown bored of you. Perhaps he intends to let this woman live too. Perhaps she’s silly enough to fall for a sweet vampire’s words too.

You stumble back more, forcing your legs to work with you rather than against you. It’s like your body has a mind of its own when he smells so welcoming. Cinnamon, spicy, sweet, painful cinnamon. Such a suffocating smell, easy to give in to and grow weak for. At least for you, that’s how it feels. 

When you force yourself to turn around, only to continue stumbling down the hallway, your eyes work against you now too. You knew it would happen though and it’s not something you can stop. The burn and blur of tears prickling at the corners, your throat scratchy and sore. 

You try to hold it in, feeling as if life is being suffocated out of you all the way down. Down, down, down. Past the nuns, past the beautiful and intricate interior, and straight out of the big front doors of the cathedral. 

No goodbyes. 

The breezy night air smacks you hard, forcing a sobbed breath out of you. You dry heave for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut so tight just to try and regain control of yourself and your emotions. The images behind your eyes flash back and forth. You’ve not just witnessed death, but the pleasure of death. Well, if he kills the woman, anyway. 

And you still can’t fathom it. The way you feel, the way you’re reacting, the intense desire for death if it means Sunghoon wants you that badly. Never would you have guessed that a feeling so deeply terrifying exists. But it does, you’re witnessing it overtake the deepest parts of you right now. 

Fuck, you didn’t want to leave but you did. And now here you are, freed from a grasp that you still want so badly. 

Your lungs burn and your chest hurts more than the swollen puncture wounds all over your body. Everything is burning. It’s too, too, hot inside of your skin right now and there’s nothing more you’d rather do than to crawl out of it and freeze. 

Still, you do your best to control the emotions within you. You take a short look around only to feel the head rush hit you now like it should have when you stood from your bed. Right, the blood in your body likely isn’t enough to keep you upright for long and you know you’ll likely not make it to your apartment in this state. 

But you try. Your eyes are out of focus and your legs are clumsy as you try to walk. Down the sidewalk you go, until–

“Woah, little lady.” 

You hear Balor’s voice echo in your ears. The sound of safety feeling so, so far away. 

You can’t even thank him for it because your vision blurs more at the feeling of big, leather clad arms holding you upright, and then– you’re out.

You’re not sure how much time has passed by the time you’re able to hold your eyes open again, but when you do, Jungwon is here and so is that hot bartender you forgot existed. And as you try to comprehend where you are, you learn very quickly that you’re in the back room of the club with concerned eyes focused on..not your face, your body.

“Let’s get you home.” Jungwon’s concerned voice settles in your ears, and only now do you feel his warm hands soothing you against your shoulders. 

“Or maybe a hospital?” Jay offers, also inspecting your skin and the weak state of your body as you try to sit up. 

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You say, immediately starting to cry out. “Please, just take me home.” 

And so, home is where you go. Jay drives both you and Jungwon there with a kind voice and worried eyes. You see him make the attempt to hug you before leaving, but Jungwon is quick to stop him with a small shake of his head. 

“Let me know when you’re feeling better.” Is all Jay says when he leaves, which, you’re sure he didn’t intend to leave but of course, Jungwon. You can see that he wants to be the one here with you and he insisted to Jay that he’s got you. 

It heals your heart a little bit, but doesn’t change the fact that you’re embarrassed for not only Jungwon to be pulled into your mess, but Jay too? 

You’re humiliated. 

And by the time Jungwon has undressed and redressed you, ignoring the intense smell of alcohol against your skin for now, he’s immediately lying next to you, clinging to you really. 

 You’re aware of what he saw when he removed your clothes. You heard the breath he took in, you saw his confusion at how the clothes you had on were very much not from your closet. He’s going to ask, and you knew he would.

“You’re really cold.” He says in a cracked voice, gentle and sweet as he tries to warm you up. “You weren’t with your mom, were you?” 

You weakly shake your head. 

“You were with that guy you told me about before.” He says now, grabbing you tighter pretending he doesn’t know just how many wounds you have under your clothes. He can’t help but hold you tighter, even if it hurts you.

“What did he do to you?” 

Your throat starts to burn as you cry again. You can barely process what’s happened yourself and explaining it to someone else only feels that much harder. 

The pulsing in your head is too much, you can’t even think straight right now. 

“It was–” You try to calm down, breathing in deep but avoiding eye contact. “It was consensual, don’t worry.” 

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, staring at the deep bite marks on your neck. He’s quick to lift himself up, ripping your shirt up and off of you without so much as trying to be gentle. His panic is blatant and he’s entirely unable to hide how pissed off he is right now.

“No, it wasn't.” He dead-pans as he presents your own body to you, his voice coming out harsher than usual. “You’d be out of your fucking mind to think i believe that this was consensual.” 

He glares at the swollen marks, unsure as to what to do with himself. 

“Fuck,” He scoffs your name along with the curse, throwing his hands up. “Fucking look at them.”

You turn away from him now, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively in an attempt to not peer at what you wish you could have more of. You know what this looks like though, and you’re really trying to see things from his perspective. 

But…It’s hard after everything you’ve witnessed yourself. 

‘It was.” You say again. “I practically begged him to keep doing it.” 

Jungwon falls silent as he counts. 1, 2, 3, 13, 25, 56, 72, still more.

“I wasn’t going to come home, you know.” You sigh out at the silence of his counting. 

More silence. 

“Was gonna stay and never leave.” 

“What? Why?” He panics more at the admittance, dropping down over you and forcing your arms from yourself, trying to pretend he didn’t re-open some of your wounds by tearing your shirt off of you. 

You can hear your best friend crying at the way you hide from him, all bloodied and bruised, but you keep your eyes closed even tighter. All he can do is lend you the entire weight of his body, enveloping you in all of his warmth and care, using his entire body to shield you from even the air in your room. 

“What did he do?” Jungwon pleads for an answer with a cracked whisper. He needs context. Anything to explain the state of you right now.

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

“What did he do?” He presses again, voice only cracking more as he cries along with you. 

“It’s more so what he didn’t do.” 

Silence again. 

“What did he fucking do?” 

You take in a deep breath, sighing out against your best friend’s fluffy hair, humming at his warmth and how much you’ve missed it. 

There’s nothing you can say to make him understand, all you can do is try because hearing him like this is, arguably, just making it more painful.

“I just really liked him, and I guess he didn’t like me so much in the end.” 

Jungwon chooses to take that at face value, opting to not let you out of his sight from this moment forward if he can help it. At one point with you, he was worried about being too clingy. Truly, he was afraid he would annoy you by attaching himself. Never has he grown so close to a person so fast and never has he gained such comfort within someone else’s bubble like he does with you. The comfort is still there, but no longer does he give a single fuck about clinging too much. You clearly cling too.

If you cling enough to let a man abuse your body like that, you’ll be able to handle him clinging just as much, enough to care for you, and enough to not fucking leave your side. He’s not going anywhere, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

After all, he’s not stupid, but he’s willing to act as dumb as you need him to if it means you’ll let him keep you within arms reach. In his head, there’s no way you fell into something with someone who could do this to you without reason, and it appears it’s not a question he’ll get a clear answer from you any time soon. 

It doesn’t matter if his installation will come to an end at some point. He can’t just leave you here when there’s some strange man running around biting the fuck out of people like a rabid dog. Abusing his best friend? No. He won’t have it and he doesn’t care if he has to force you to accept his protection.

He can’t do much for you, but he’s willing to at least be here with you. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jungwon soothes you, clinging tighter just to feel some of those reopened wounds bleed onto him. His voice is a stark reminder that there’s more to feel in your body than just pain. “I won’t let him near you again, okay?”

You nod, still crying as you cling back, trying to ignore the images in your head of Sunghoon. 

“Okay.” You lie, missing him too much already, the faint scent of cinnamon still in your nose. 

And you fall asleep like that. Warm. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hate calling it an “escape.” You carried yourself out of that beautiful cathedral against your body begging you to stay. Still, even now with Jungwon clinging so warmly at night, you wish you had never left. 

Even the pain of seeing what Sunghoon does behind your back, the jealousy that came with it, you would have stayed if only to prove your worth to him. Being so close to death is exhilarating, and you find yourself feeling entirely empty and void of any emotion that brings joy because of it. 

This isn’t depression, nor is it simple envy. This sadness within you sinks lower than you thought possible, so deeply rooted within you that you feel death itself couldn’t even allow a safe escape. After all, if vampires are real, who's to say you won't end up as a tormented ghost forever searching for a man who can never die?

Damned if you live, damned if you die, so to say. You can’t have Sunghoon either way, you can only have him while suffering. 

And oh, how you miss the cold. You miss his cold. You miss the fear too. You miss the way he’d laugh with no breath against you and drink from your thighs like he needed more. You miss the way your wounds would pulse in pain and lend little reminders of the teeth that pierced them. Even now, they’re healing so well.

And it still hurts.

It hurts to know he said, while holding you, that he craves you. That he very much wants you but has things to tend to. The fact that he needed to tend to fucking other women while drenched in their blood? Things to tend to. 

Because to Sunghoon, real life women, breathing women, are minimized to things to tend to.

Fucking vampires. 

It’s been a week now since you left and it hasn’t gotten easier. During the week, Jungwon hasn’t so much as let you shower without the bathroom door open. You guess that’s fair. 

Still, it has only been a week. A week of everything moving fast, a week of Jungwon, a week of slow and dreadful acceptance, and a week of smelling nothing but faint, ever so slight, cinnamon. 

By now you know it’s him. Like he’s truly dug his claws into you and doesn’t intend to let you forget all that he took from you. Always that fucking smell, from the first night you met him until now. Yet he is nowhere to be seen, even when you stare at the cathedral after the sun goes down. 

No one has left. No one has gone inside. 

Part of you even found yourself worrying if he’s eaten. Hah. Funny.

Still, you’re forced to live in reality now. Nothing but healing wounds, meaningful days, and reminders that you let yourself fall as quickly and painfully as possible. 

You’re entirely dissociated, as if you’re gliding rather than walking, as if each day passes in a second rather than a twenty four hour time span, as if you’re truly empty now and not filled with the blood you thought meant so much. 

Somehow, you find comfort in the emptiness though. Jungwon fills the space as best he can too. He always accepts your rejections of going to update Jay at the club just to sit between your legs on the living room floor and try to make you laugh through silly faces riddled with concern.

You assume he’s in contact with Jay anyway, letting him know that you’re not quite dead yet. 

The days blur together now, up until two weeks pass, three weeks, four, five weeks.

Thankfully, by the fifth week, it’s gotten easier. Each day you just have to remind yourself that you can never forget Jungwon again like you did before. He’s the one who helped you through this, and to think you’d ever make him go through this again is insane. In fact, he’s the reason you finally feel good inside again. 

He’s like medicine, which is cringe and lame as fuck to say but it’s true. Internally, he’s made you feel better. Yet, right beside all those happy warm feelings lies everything else. Distress, sadness, anxiety. 

They still seep out of you too. Every night, really, after the daytime wears off and Jungwon runs out of things to distract you with.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” Jungwon says sweetly, sprawled out on your bed in his pajamas as he watches you pace around your room. “I swear, it’s like everything I say to you goes through one ear and out the other.” 

You pause in your step, sad eyes reaching his face. 

“I already told you I’m not going home.” He repeats himself for what feels like the thousandth time to you. “I’m still getting paid, I have enough to last me if you let me stay here before finding work.”

After all, it’s not like Jungwon has anything to go back home to. Save for an annoying sister who probably wanted him to move the fuck out of her space anyway. He’s the last person on this earth to be afraid to up and move out with a near stranger.

You’re not so much a stranger to him though, and the need to be by your side far outweighs anything else right now. 

“Yeah, but, eventually.”

Never have you been one to worry about fleeting time. Never until you met that dead motherfucker. You worry about not what is happening, but what will happen. The inevitable. You no longer welcome it. 

It’s not death that brings the anxiety though, it’s just…the clock. 

With the ticking, the tocking, and the changing of seasons. Everything lasts both too long and not long enough. At this moment, the fear is Jungwon leaving at some point in your life. For any reason at all, really. 

He’s been by your side since you found your way back to him. A nuisance at times, yes, but you’re attached. To an unhealthy degree, you are fucking attached to him at the hip. He’s your only grounding force on this earth and you think he’s picking up on it. 

To the point he’s offered to drop his entire life an hour away just to stay for you. 

Yes, Jungwon recognizes how toxic and unhealthy the friendship has become, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just leave, nor does he want to. Even if he’s the one who leaves to get your mail, he’s the one who cooks, and he’s the one who holds you close at night, reminding you that time doesn’t have to mean a damn thing if you try hard enough to forget about the man who doesn’t experience it at all.

There’s no way you can get through a single day without him right now, and the thought of having to do it in the future scares you. 

You know it’s pathetic. You know you have no right to keep him in a box next to you as a comfort, you know he’s still got a life to live and romance to find. But…you hate it. 

“Eventually what?” He quirks a brow at you, having been concerned for you and the shift in your entire personality yet again tonight. You’ve changed for the worse, and it terrifies him to see you act so gone. 

“You’re gonna leave me here alone.” Your voice is small, cracking when you say it only because you hear the words ring in your ears. 

A pathetic whine, as if you’re speaking to someone else and not Jungwon. You’re not you anymore. No, you’ve become obsessed with the looping memories and feelings that took a mere four days to fall in love with. 

Addicted to emptiness but begging for Jungwon to forever be the crutch you stand on. 

You’re selfish and you have no fucking right to do this to him.

“Hey…” He rolls out of bed and steps up to you, easily putting a soothing hand against your shoulder. “Do you want me to stay?”

You nod. Knowing this same situation happens nearly every night. You panic, he soothes. You beg, he reminds you that he’s the one who offered in the first place. You ask him to stay, he confirms by asking you to let him.

And to him, he knows this is anything but a romantic partnership. You very much need someone here who is willing to play dumb but remain hyper aware. He wants to be this person for you because of his own selfish reasons too. 

It’s not all for you.

For one, he wants the girl back that he met last month. Secondly, he wants to see you learn and grow, because he knows you have a long and beautiful life ahead of you (and he better be fucking part of it.) And lastly, he’s never felt needed like this and there’s something in him that craves to be important too. 

It’s not too difficult for Jungwon to find people that’s important to him. Really, it never takes much. Perhaps someone held the door open for him, he’d probably jump in front of a bus for that person not two seconds later. But to feel just as important to someone else? 

He needs to be here with you. As toxic as it may seem to outsiders, Jungwon sees nothing wrong with being the person you need simply because you’re the person he needs too. 

“Then stop saying stupid shit.” He mopes now as he pulls you back to your bed and holds you much like he always does, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re always okay at work, but I swear the second we come home you’re falling apart.”

You freeze, falling apart instantly. 

“I wish you’d tell me what happened.” He says now, jumping into the typical routine of calming and soothing you. “I don’t know what to do when you get like this.”

You wish you would tell him too. 

But if he knew, that hope of ever seeing Sunghoon again would crumble. Already, Jungwon swears to you that he will never let this happen to you again. But you want it to, so, so badly. 

Even if you’re taking advantage of his care by letting him treat you like a child who can’t escape a tantrum, he really flipped his whole life because you chose to live in a crisis. 

You chose to do this to yourself and to Jungwon. 

Finally, you look up at him with your fingers gripping him.

“I ask so much from you.” You sniffle when you say it, immediately calming yourself and feeling like a fucking idiot for doing this. “I feel like I’m going insane.” 

He nods.

“You kind of are.” He confirms for you. “And you have to talk about it eventually, it’s just going to keep hurting if you don’t.”

He’s right. He’s always right. 

And like always, every single time you imagine how you’ll tell him, nothing in your brain can form a sentence. But you do try and by now, accustomed to your pain, you feel like something needs to be said before he grows tired of you too. 

“I don’t know why, but I wanted him to kill me so badly.” 

Saying it out loud doesn’t feel as good as you wanted it to, not with the way Jungwon’s face immediately contorts into panic.

“Wha-”

“But he wouldn’t do it.” You shake your head, refusing eye contact. “He’d do it to everyone else, but not to me.” 

“Wait, what?”

Maybe choosing to say that of all things was a mistake. After all, you did appear stumbling down the street near death already. Jungwon isn’t going to take what you’re saying lightly and you were stupid to believe otherwise.

“Have you ever smelled cinnamon?” You continue, trying to skew the conversation from his panic.

Jungwon is flipping his shit trying to make sense of your words. You wanted this guy to kill you? Well, he damn near fucking did and even now, while he’s not around, you’re practically dead already in terms of everything but breathing. And what the fuck do you mean he’d do it to everyone else?! 

Are you referring to an emotional death? Trying to make this shit sound poetic? Or did you really want to die? 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jungwon’s voice is stern but shaky. “Kill you how?” 

You shake your head.

“I don’t know.” You offer, knowing you’re just making it worse. “I wanted him to want me that badly.”

Jungwon drops his arms from you to pull back, dead-pan staring at you because he doesn’t know what to do or say to that. He forces himself to think of the reality of the situation. You’re just being poetic. You’re just being dramatic. 

He’s the same way when someone hurts him too, but still. Using such heavy words scares him, and he can’t just sit here and tell you it’ll be okay anymore. 

“But he doesn't.” Jungwon musters up the courage to say it, knowing you’re going to cry. “This weirdo literally tried to eat you alive, and he still doesn’t want you.” 

And you do cry again. 

“And now, you’re letting him kill you anyway?” Jungwon scoffs. “You’re begging me to stay here with you, just so I can watch you not even make an attempt to fucking get over it?” 

You know he’s telling you what you need to hear, doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want to hear it. The only thing you want to hear is Sunghoon and his lying words, telling you that Jungwon is full of shit. 

The worst part about it is that, it’s not even that you’re suicidal. You’re not. You like being alive. You’re just…you don’t know. You don’t fucking know why you wanted and still want Sunghoon to kill you.

Perhaps it’s because it would mean he needs you that much.

But he doesn’t need you, you’re not irresistible. 

And that hurts you. That man fucking slithered into your heart and made a nest there. You can’t get him out no matter how much you try. 

“He broke up with you. You were together for like, what? A few days?” Jungwon minimizes the situation unintentionally, panicking at the way a person he’s grown so close to has managed to be utterly fucking ripped apart by a singular man. “He broke up with you. That’s it. It’s time to stand up and move on, there’s better people out there that–”

“No.” You shake your head. “I broke up with him, I guess, if you can call it that.” 

Jungwon softens, tilting his head. Now he’s getting somewhere. 

“Why, then? Why did you break up with him when you didn’t want to?” Still, Jungwon is glad you chose to. Clearly you’re not as absent minded as you pretend to be. Seeing how littered your body was with pain, you knew you needed to leave, right? You weren’t really just going to let this guy wither you away, right?

“He was with someone else.” 

Jungwon shakes his head in pity. 

“What a scumbag. A total freak.” 

“But like, he needed to do it, I guess.” You try to explain without truly explaining. “I got mad and left because he was doing something he needed to do with someone that wasn’t me.” 

“He needed to cheat on you? Are you hearing yourself?” Jungwon questions, throwing his arms up. “He’s a nympho, babe, he probably manipulated the fuck out of you to make you think this way.”

And at that, you give up on talking about it. You feel too tired to continue. 

“I guess so.” You whisper out with a shrug, sniffling up the tears.

“He doesn’t deserve you. You can’t just…die for people.” Jungwon says, realizing that even he doesn’t follow his own advice. He’d probably die for you himself, but not because he craves it.

He’ll never understand why you wanted this man to “kill” you. In whatever way you meant, no one is worth owning that much of you. 

Jungwon hums though, knowing you’re tired now. He isn’t exactly being as soothing as he’d like to be right now but never has he seen a person act like this over a break up. Cheating hurts, of course, but you barely knew this guy. There’s no way there isn’t something else going on for you to say such insane fucking things. 

“You must’ve lost your damn mind to let someone do that to you.” Jungwon says against your hair, his soft voice not matching his words in the slightest. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Me either.” You admit, feeling the insanity bubbling in your stomach and hating it. 

Still, the scent of cinnamon. 

“Do you smell it though?” You ask now, voice even weaker. 

Jungwon inhales deeply, releasing his breath with all of the frustration in his gut.

You feel it fan across your cheek warmly, minty, and you smile. 

“Cinnamon?” He asks, remembering your question from before. “Yeah, sometimes I can smell it.” 

You smile bigger now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Another two weeks pass, only this time you are coming back to yourself. Which is strange, really. You were beginning to think you’d never feel like a person again after the first month passed. Then, within another few weeks you’re almost entirely back to yourself. 

You’re still a bit dissociated, which is likely due to the trauma of what you experienced and put yourself through but thankfully, the ticking-time spans you grew to hate forces itself now to be your new form of comfort. With each passing second, hour, day, and week, you’re slowly able to not forget, but accept and move on. 

Still, you know it’s going to fuck you up for years to come. You’ll always have the feeling of emptiness deep inside no matter how much the space shrinks. You have no choice now but to try and fill your life and time with things and people who matter to you. At least this way, you know that you matter too. 

And with this time spent away and healing, the scent has faded too. You can even go to work now without holding your breath or your eyes being forced to look at the source of the smell. In fact, you avoid taking even a glimpse of the looming cathedral. You don’t keep cinnamon in your apartment now either. You don’t take it with any of your beverages or food items, and you certainly shouldn’t be smelling it in the air anymore. 

Sometimes it’s still there though, turning your stomach in a way that’s both needy and sick. You still miss him and the feeling of ice, but you know better now. Why give up the ability to breathe without your throat burning? Why give up being a person that Jungwon actually wants to be around now? 

After all, you’ve started feeling so much better to the point that even he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time. Showers are back to being private, you can check your own mail, and a few times you were even able to go to work without him trying to force his way inside like his installation was still sitting on display. 

Which, it isn’t, by the way. Your boss had his name and face blacklisted, but still on most days he waltzed in like he owned the place. Every single time buckling the knees of your boss, every single time being allowed to stay. 

Thankfully, push came to shove and he landed himself a job there with you, his employment became official just today, actually. And as professional as the place was for you when you approached with your resume, it’s definitely not professional at all. They did pay Jungwon under the table several times just for doing shit you were supposed to be doing. 

The point is, even if Jungwon wasn’t able to make the effort to keep good on his word regarding moving into your apartment to stay beside you, he still likely would have pushed to at least work with you. 

Thankfully, he gets to do both those things. 

And despite the fact that he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time, there’s still an immense amount of anxiety about being away from you for too long. He knows that in time, it’ll pass and the two of you can live both near each other and apart, but for now? Might as well call him your husband because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna be doing his own thing without you. 

That leads to now. The same day Jungwon secured his employment, the same day you made it through without a single breakdown, the same night Jungwon needs to actually go back home to move his shit into this apartment with you.

“Come with me.” Jungwon comments, but you know it’s more of a demand. “You can meet my sister, just ignore if she makes jokes about us dating or something.”

You laugh. Genuinely, you laugh.

“Jokes? We both know you’re in love with me Jungwon. I’m just waiting for the ring at this point.” 

He laughs with a shrug, knowing he probably would marry you at this point, if just to protect you from all the people who wouldn’t care for you as much as he does. 

“Really though, come with me?” He asks again. “I’m still a little worried about leaving you here.”

“You’ll be back in the morning,” You start, trying to calm him down. You genuinely do feel okay right now. “I’ll just be sleeping the whole time, I'm tired anyway.”

Jungwon nods fondly, aware that it’s only practical that he make the move during the night hours. After all, his sister won’t be home otherwise and he does miss her. It’s true that you’ll probably just go to bed and he’ll be back before you even wake up tomorrow.

Still.

“You could just sleep in my old ro–”

“Wonnie.” You walk up to him and grab his face with both hands. “I’m fine.” 

He smiles at you, always loving the way you do your best to reassure him even through your worst breakdowns. You’re not breaking down right now though, and he can’t help but believe every word you say when you’re looking at him like this. 

“I swear to god if I come home and you so much as have a single bite mark on you, I’m burning this fucking city to the ground.” 

You roll your eyes, the memory stinging only a little bit. By now though, you’ve almost entirely forgotten how it felt in the first place. 

In fact, you’re shocked by the way you acted after leaving. So outside of yourself. Truly, you think you were going insane and Jungwon was right to confirm that for you. You’re lucky you had him here with you, because you likely would have ran right back into that fucking cathedral and–

Yeah. You would have done something dramatic. 

You didn’t though. And sure, you now know vampires exist or whatever but Sunghoon has not bothered you even once since you left. You hope he’s simply moved on so that your resolve doesn’t break. Jungwon worked so hard to make you feel better, and you worked just as hard. You can’t just feel bad that you don’t remember what Sunghoon’s fangs felt like against your skin.

If anything, you hope Sunghoon is freaked out by you leaving and knowing his secret. Maybe he thinks that if he tries to approach you again, you’ll tell everyone about what he is and what he did. Not that it would end with him in jail or anything. You’d probably end up in an asylum, actually, but still. 

And to Jungwon’s threats of arson, you simply pinch his cheek, being sure to sit your thumb right in his dimple. 

“Strictly no vampire kinks.” You smile at him, crossing both of your arms in front of yourself to create an X. 

“Good.” Jungwon nods back as he puts on his shoes and heads for the door. “Call me if you need anything, I’ll keep my volume turned up. You’ve got Jay’s number too, he can be here quickly if it’s an emergency.”

He feels content knowing that you’re about to be stuck with him for as long as he can manage. It’s just one short trip back home. A mere six or seven hours spent away while he packs the shit his sister probably “forgot” to box up for him, loading up the rented van, and then unloading it here. 

It’s just a short trip. You’ll be sleeping through it anyway. 

And when he’s gone, you feel tired. Keeping good on your promise of going to bed almost immediately. The feeling of being alone for the night is a bit uncomfortable, so sleep comes easy as a means to escape the inevitable over-thinking you’d probably do otherwise. 

No overthinking. 

It’s just a short trip. 

Jungwon will be back before you wake up. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah, to think it’s over. 

To think he’d leave you be? To think he wouldn’t be looming around every corner watching, waiting? If it weren’t for Jungwon, these weeks wouldn’t have passed so easily for you, that much is certain.

As if they were easy for you to get through at all. Jungwon, the very person who got you through it, was the reason he stayed away, the reason you were able to heal. 

Jungwon was the ward.

Was. 

Deep in your sleep it’s like your body knows. The same scent fills your nose just seconds after your sleep brain feels the goosebumps spread across your skin. Instantly, you wake up and back to insanity you go

You truly wake up. 

Your legs aren’t being carried by any force other than you own, and your mind is crisp and clear in your thoughts as you jump out of bed. 

Not walking, running to your apartment door. You swing open the door and don’t even look at him before slamming your entire weight against his chest and clinging like a lost child. You can feel the familiar cold fear filling your body, knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could kill you right now. 

All of the progress you made burns away within seconds. You’ve never felt so elated to ruin your own life. 

Even when he pushes you away, nothing at this moment could make you let him go. He’s here, he’s standing right there. Your fingers grip as he pushes you back in silence, stretching his garment out far beyond the bounds of which it was sewn to withstand. It rips, and still he shoves you further back from him all while stalking forward. 

Walking you back into your apartment, just to let the door slam behind him as he stands with a narrowed gaze fixated on you. 

You glance up at him only for a moment, loving the crazed look in his eye. Adoring that he must have missed you to appear so full of life like this. You can only compare his eyes now to the same eyes you saw when you ran away from him. 

As if they were burning on you. Or perhaps, for you? 

He’s dangerous, your body feels it instantly and all you can do is lean into it.

“That’s all it took for you to leave me?” Sunghoon bellows out in a spiteful voice, the sound sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “Had your blood boiling over some minx? I told you I didn’t want you witnessing it.” 

You soak in his voice like it’s your last supper, missing it so badly, adoring it even more. He speaks as if weeks haven’t passed, as if it’s a mere hour after you ran from him. You move forward to cling again, unable to think of words to say and opting to show how much you regret leaving through your actions.

Still, he pushes you away from him. A bit harder this time, to the point you almost topple over onto your back. You keep your balance only because it feels like you’re fucking floating just looking at him right now.

“I tried to pull you back to me, why did you fight it so hard?” He continues to fuss, as if he’s been thinking over and over again about all the words he wants to spit at you. Like he’s punishing you, and yet still struggling himself not to cling back. “Never has your aroma been so empty, so faint.”

You’re in shock but your body yearns for him, thankful to go back to square one. Like you’re special. Like you meant something enough to him that he’s here looking like he may give you what you’ve wanted all along. 

“Countless women. Countless men. Never you, and now you manage to hide from me?” His hand shoots to your neck, pushing you back further into your apartment. “How?” He grips dangerously tight as he continues to spew his breathless words. “You masked yourself with that– that floral boy, didn’t you?” 

You listen to his spiteful words like your favorite song, falling into each vibration of his vowels and consonants. Never has he spoken so much, and never have you heard his voice waver the way it is now. You can’t help but follow his movements with a smile on your face, swallowing through this tight grip on your throat. 

“You cannot fathom how hard it was to stop. Do you understand how much I want to fuck every last drop out of you? You should be thanking me.”

Oh, you’re so proud. So, so, fucking proud. The glee runs through you at his needy words, even if you know better. He’ll always feed on people who aren’t you, and he’ll always probably fuck them too. 

But does he show up at their house? Does he grow frustrated with them like this too? 

“Did you kill her when you were done?” You ask out through his choking hand, so confident that it makes him freeze on the spot.

He’s genuinely shocked that you’re not scared. You’re not intimidated. You don’t feel bad. No, you feel proud of being hunted. Like you take enjoyment out of his suffering, much like he does for you. 

On his part, it’s not intentional. You have to suffer to be next to him. 

Never has a person made him suffer too though. Fucking never would he have allowed it. God, he’s infatuated with you, utterly obsessed.

“Of course I killed her.” Sunghoon admits with his brow rising up, feeding into your ecstatic reaction of his death grip on you, only gripping tighter now. “Does that please you?” 

You’ve never been happier. 

And he moans out at the way you shyly nod, seemingly experiencing euphoria at his admittance of murder. Oh, if only you knew how good you smelled that night. Blood pumping for him, blood boiling in emotion for him. The woman didn’t last more than a minute after you left him. He couldn’t resist at that point. 

Seeing you, smelling you, fucking someone who he wished could have been you. 

He’s not prepared at all for this, for you. So willing, wanting what he’s trying to avoid doing to you.

That’s why he’s here though. Unprepared, but unable to resist any longer. He has pulled and pulled, every single day trying to lure you back to him against your will. He thought he was going to have to take you tonight against your wishes. 

But your eyes are sparkling for him. 

“No one’s heart has ever beat quite like yours when looking at me.” Sunghoon whispers now, falling and spiraling into this moment with you, losing his composure entirely. “So loud, each pump fucking gushes.”

“And I'll chase it every time.” He continues to ramble in a way that sounds like he’s in physical pain, like the amount of time you’ve stayed away from him genuinely hurts him. 

You still can’t respond though, your words are caught up in your throat right where his hand squeezes and you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He knows it too, and he didn’t intend to let you answer anyway because genuinely, he’s fucking losing himself. 

His hungry lips chase forward near instant after saying those words to you, not biting, just kissing. Tasting you rather than the blood that drives him. 

Because for some reason, that’s what he craves right now. 

“I beg.” He cries out against your tongue, relishing in the feeling of your life clutched in his hands, not even sure himself of what he’s begging for.

“Sunghoon,” You choke out his name with a gentle voice, pulling back from his bruising lips and throwing your arms up around his shoulders. “I bet you could smell my heart shatter too.” 

He moans at the strained words first and the out of body experience you lend to him second. His soul is always trapped within this dead skin, but you ascend him. 

Here, standing with his hands on your throat, you hold him? You say sly, mocking words? Oh, he can give you the world. He can give you anything you want. He can be whatever you want. Never has a person had this hold on him, and never could another person be able to do what you do. 

He can’t just let you go. He tried already. He’s supposed to be the one with the ability to hunt, lure, and pull. How is it that you do it to him? Your blood alone does it. The fact that all you need to do is exist within the same city and he’s ripping his bedroom walls apart wanting to get at you? He needs you. 

No. You’re not going anywhere this time. He’ll give up the taste of your sweet blood if he has to. The taste of your wet tongue is enough to satiate him by this point. The feeling of your neck beneath his hands, your pretty eyes urging him to strangle the life out of you.

He’d do it too. All you’d have to do is ask. He would do anything for you at this moment, no matter the cost. He will take anything you offer.

“Oh–” He groans first, licking his lips. “I could almost taste it.” His eyes darken more, somehow, as he leads you through the apartment. All the way until that same gaze causes your legs to buckle. He can’t help it by this point, after all, he knew coming here would end up this way.

There’s no self control when his hands release your neck, your buckled legs forcing you to fall against the floor, and he gladly topples with you. His hands immediately shoot to either side of your head, holding himself up just so he can dip down and inhale you. 

Fuck, he missed the way your skin smells more than he remembers. And trust, missing you was a daunting experience for him before he got here.

He inhales all over you, again and again. He trails his nose against both sides of your neck, up your cheek, into your hair, down to your neck again.

“So delicious.” He moans mindlessly. “Never have I missed someone so terribly.” 

“You were with someone else.” You continue your confident scolding with a scoff, only because of the way he’s losing himself on you. This is all you could ever want and reminding him of why you left feels elating. 

“My love,” He starts, speaking right up against your ear as one of his hands trails from your cheek to your waist. “My loyalty to your life is what I offered.”

Goddamn the confidence running through you smells stronger than anything he’s ever experienced. As if you didn’t already drive him to do things he never once considered. Oh, now? With you like this? He would die ten times more for you and you alone, if he could, anyway. 

“Do you not recognize that I would have drained you to death, if I didn’t want you here with me?” 

He lifts his head now, looking at you with so much adoration. 

“You’re not a simple meal, when will you understand that?”

And when you snicker at his desperate praise, he cannot fucking control the feelings within him.

“Your little floral friend is going to be devastated,” He admits with a rumbled voice, alluding to the inevitability of him coming here tonight. “You’ve begged me for this, and now I’m begging you.” 

You pause, feeling the butterflies in your stomach release in a deep breath. 

“Die for me.” Sunghoon whispers, dragging that same wandering hand straight between your legs and dipping into the wet heat he’s been missing so badly. No blood, just thick, hot, wet slick. “I beg.” 

You can barely comprehend his words through that ice cold feeling of his fingers pressing into you. He hums in the silence, looking straight into your eyes with the question. He’s very aware of the weight behind it too. 

“My love, please.” He continues, losing composure by the seconds as he feels how warm your wet walls are hugging his fingers. “Not in a thousand years have I wanted someone more than you.”

He continues pressing his fingers in, moaning himself at how good it feels, only to feel your moan fan against his cheeks in turn. It’s something that drives him only further from the self-control he fought so hard to keep. That warm breath represents the life within you that he intends to snuff out. If at all, to keep  you forever. 

“And not for a thousand years more–” He’s starting to babble, his once clear thoughts racing at being surrounded by everything that is you. “Please.” 

And his fingers only quicken with his thoughts, rendering you unable to answer even if you tried. The idea and confirmation in his head of not truly killing you drives him wild. It would be death, nonetheless, but not true death. For weeks he has suffered over the thoughts, always telling himself that he would never fate someone to a death such as his own. 

But you, oh you. The sublime blood within you pulled him harder than he believes he pulled you. Never in his thousands of years has he experienced such a thing, nor did he know such blood existed within a person. It drives him to feel for you. To adore you. To be entirely enamored with the fact that you have shattered him from within at both the thought of losing your blood, but wanting to take all of it. 

Still, he craves the taste of you to such an extent that you truly will die tonight, whether it’s against your will or not. It’s too late for him to reason with himself, feeling your walls wrapped around his fingers, seeing you act so mischievous towards his antics from before. At this point, just a blink of time compared to how long he’s lived, the decision is clearer than anything he thinks he’s ever had to choose. 

If he can’t have all of your blood, you’ll waste it on a death not nearly as beautiful as he can offer. 

If he can have all of your blood, perhaps he doesn’t have to lose you along with it. After all, it’s not just the blood at this point that makes him feel like a blood-drunk beast. No, no, no. It’s everything that is you. Your skin, the secretions of your body, the way your hands grip and the way your eyes blink. Blood-drunk, yes, but more so just drunk on you.

He can settle without the breath and without the blood if you’re willing to share meals with him for the remainder of time this earth has in the universe. 

Sunghoon’s mind is racing at the thought. Working too fast for him to focus on everything at once, but he tries. Tucking his fingers deep, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling as deeply as he can. 

You’re feeling like you’re on top of the world in the way he falls apart on you, unable to comprehend that this is actually happening. Every word he’s said to you rings in your ears as if it were spoken in a language you can’t understand. With his fingers working you open, with his lips on your skin rather than his fangs…

You feel…different. Like he feels differently. 

And you can’t stop yourself from basking in the thought that he killed that woman. What was once jealousy that he didn’t want you enough to kill you has twisted and morphed into the thought that he kept you alive because he couldn’t stand not having you.

Every whispered word confirms it, and still you can’t comprehend fully what it is he’s trying to say. 

So, you focus and try to comprehend the feeling in your body that he’s offering instead. You have yearned for this cold within you. Missed it so badly you went insane. 

To think you’d ever truly get over him is arguably more insane than wanting him to kill you at all.

“Did you hear me?” He whispers against your ear, shoulders shifting with each plunge of his fingers, other hand clinging to your waist so tightly, almost pulling you to him. “You could be beside me,” He moves his lips across your neck, resting his lips against the moan you let out. “Forever.”

Oh, it clicks. 

And just as it clicks, he can hear your heart rate gushing the same blood he intends to take from you in full. Gushing, rushing through each vein and valve within you. Oh, he could truly devour you whole with how you’ve deprived him of this. He could leave not a trace of you left for the world to remember, but no. That would be worse than the beheadings that haunt his nightly visions. 

The sound of it rushing through you, god, it makes him feel like a mad man. He can’t help but prevent your timid answers in the midst of red hot desire. He pulls his hand out of you, spreading his palm against your healed thighs instead and spreads your legs out wide from under him. 

He’s quick to move down. No kissing, no biting, nothing like what he wants to do. He needs to satiate his desire somehow, and he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of your blood until the time comes. 

And when he pulls your sleep-shorts and panties off of you, he’s immediately licking a languid stripe up your glistening cunt. He remembers how it looked in red, the thought sending his body into overdrive at the taste of you now compared to that night. 

Still so sweet. Almost as good as the blood. Ah, it serves as a reminder that perhaps he can give up the blood after taking it from you. This alone is enough. So creamy, so slippery. 

Yes, yes. A confirmation. It’s you, not just your blood. It’s you he won’t live without. Your mind, your voice, the wet you spill, the cum you’ll let him fuck out of you. 

It’s always you. 

And he hums into it, licking into you as far as his tongue can manage. He braces both hands on your thighs just to spread them further, skewing his head to reach deeper, deeper, fucking deeper. Tasting you, smelling you, utterly obsessed with you. 

All you can do is shoot your hands down, forever waiting to feel his teeth sink into you but only feeling pleasure. So much pleasure. All of his freezing body parts just send consistent shivers up and down your spine. It’s like you can feel him under your skin when he does this, even with his hair tangled in your fingers as if you’re appreciating him for all of it. 

It’s so good. With the way he doesn’t need to breathe. He keeps his tongue in you, and even still you feel as if you don’t need your clit stimulated at all with the way he’s working his mouth so aggressively. And it’s good with the way his fingernails dig into your skin not yet enough to cause blood, unlike before. Good with the way he hums into you through it all, the same way he did when he’d feed on you.

Ah, it’s just, it’s good. It’s dreamy. All of it feels like a fantasy up until he does pull back. 

You look down in time with him looking up, those pretty eyes no longer looming and dark. Still crazed to an extent but you know they’re for you. 

“Sunghoon,” You whisper out, watching him closely with the way his eyes roll back at even hearing his name on your tongue so prettily. “Why aren’t you feeding?” 

You feel his fingernails leave more half moon shapes in your skin at the question. His eyes open in a half-lidded stare at you now, lips falling slack.

He looks so pretty, with the wet coating of his plush and pretty lips, your hands still tangled in his hair. 

He still just looks at you. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink, and doesn’t answer. 

“You’re so quiet now.” You comment, feeling shy with the way he stares at you rather than your open pussy right in front of his mouth. “Say something.”

And within a single blink, his face is right up against yours, one hand still keeping your leg spread open, the other pinching your chin as he continues to stare.

“Let me have you.” 

You hear his words clearly this time, breath caught in your throat up until he kisses it out of you. He breathes you in deeply, trying to drown himself in all that is your life before what he will inevitably do. 

“Let me.” He pleads again, his eyebrows falling as if he’s in genuine pain to say it. 

Your arms reach around his neck, staring at him with so much confirmation in your eyes. You’d let him have anything he wants. Anything. 

And he groans at you, releasing your chin just to reach down to get his length out, appearing as though looking at you like this alone is enough to make him crumble to dust. He’s been aching this whole time too, since before he even left the cathedral. Borderline edging himself from both the pleasure of your body wrapped around him and the pleasure within you that would satiate his hunger just for a moment. 

He misses the feeling of you so badly. The warmth, the slide, the way you cling to him like nothing he could do would scare you. 

Just….one last time, he wants to feel warm. 

And he chases for the heat inside of you, sliding in without breaking eye contact, without waiting, without savoring it. 

It knocks the breath out of you again, forgetting just how cold it is when he settles in deep. So fucking deep. 

You wince in pain before moaning out to him, whispering his name in a drawn out sigh.

“Ah, my love,” He groans at your reaction, his hips immediately moving. “My pretty, pretty, love.”  Your walls hug him so perfectly, taking every inch with just a tiny wince.  “Will you still sound so lovely?”

You don’t understand the question, but you nod to him, wanting nothing more in this moment than to prove your worth to him. To please him. 

Such an insane woman, he thinks. Letting him take you and have you in whatever way he wishes. Whether living or dead, he truly believes every mindless nod you give to him. It’s clear, you’re just as deeply infatuated with him as he is with you.

Both of you would give and take happily, no matter what it is. 

And fuck he can feel your living pulse against him with each fast and torturous thrust, snapping his hips so quickly into you. He can’t help but fuck hard and with purpose. Slamming in and out with echoed slaps and mindless groans. 

Everything that you are could end him in an instant and all you can do is moan out for more. 

Oh, he gives it. Of course he does. He will give you anything. Everything. 

And it only becomes harder to resist when he kisses against your lips again, swallowing each moan of his name, exhaling it back out to you with the sound of your name. A mantra of two people, facing only death together and loving every heart-wrenching second of it. 

The cold within you flourishes with each sound in his throat, you squeeze around him, your legs hug against him, your arms wrap tightly against his neck as he kisses you. Your body can’t withstand the speed of his cock slamming into you for much longer without coming undone.

And he doesn’t stop, seemingly never growing tired. Up until he feels your body clench entirely around him, he clings back at you at the feeling, whispering handsome words and proud promises. 

“Already?” He grunted out first, hearing your blood rush and your muscles tense. “Ah, can hear it rushing through you, let it go, love.” 

And you do, you let it go despite wanting it to last longer. So, so much longer. 

He lends you a choked and inward groan at the way you react to his relentless thrusts, flexing his abs and pointing his cock as deeply into you as he can reach. And for the second time, Sunghoon feels the warmth of you spill over him. Prettier than the blood, your voice so, so, sexy choking out a string of curses just for his ears to adore.

“There you go.” He coos through it with his own groans, savoring every squeeze and squelch, adoring the sounds you make for him. 

And as he watches, he can’t help the feeling inside of him. Your heart is beating so fast through the pleasure only he can offer you, and he keeps doing it. Fucking you through the orgasm only to not stop after the fact either. 

It’ll be the last time he’ll ever feel heat like this on him. He can fuck any and every victim, but none will feel as good as you. Partially because you aren’t being manipulated, he has no hold on your mind right now. You’re not gripping and moaning because you’re in a daze, you’re doing it because you fucking want it.

God, having sex for the sake of sex is something he hasn’t done in a long time before you. Enjoying in the pleasure, fucking suffering through all of it. Truly, for him, if this is the last time your body will be warm, he’s going to take his goddamn time making sure you’re well aware of just how good you could have it if you let him keep you forever. Cold and dead, he’ll still love the feeling of your body.

So much that still, even with your orgasm dripping all over him, he pushes and he pushes. Thinking only of how he plans to drain you in more ways than once tonight. He can hold off for as long as he can with his own pleasure, because this alone is fucking bliss.

And he doesn’t care if he’s knocking the breath out of you, only because he knows that soon enough, you’ll never have to worry about breathing again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re unsure as to how long Sunghoon has been lying with you like this, but you were able to get a bit of rest against him. Even with your fingers feeling like ice wrapped up in his, you feel safe and at home here. 

Not because you are at home, but because he’s here with you. 

The night outside your window tells you that you’ve not been sleeping for long, but you can barely recall coming to your bedroom at all with him. He must have carried you here and cuddled himself up against you. 

You stir in his grasp, peeking an eye up at him. 

“You’ve rested enough?” Sunghoon smiles at you with saddened eyes, his pupils still blown and hair an absolute mess.  

You shift against him, turning to face him entirely. 

As he looks at you, all he can do is remind himself that he’s never considered fating someone with this curse until finding you. With your pretty jealous words and your intense need to have him take you out of this world all together. Never has he given the chance for another person to know him so deeply and have them react with only fondness and desire. 

This is his chance, isn’t it? To find forever? 

As monstrous as he is, he does still have desire. The feeling of loneliness isn’t meant to be grown accustomed to. For him at least. All of his fellow vampires have companions, and he swore he’d never do that to another person. 

Perhaps it’s because many of the vampires he has mingled with took their companions by force. He could see the disdain in their eyes, and that’s not something he thinks he could live with. But you don’t look at him like that. You slept soundly next to a man wanting to kill you. Actively struggling not to do it with each and every breath you take. 

And oh, since the start of his curse, the need to taste that last famed drop lured him to every meal he’s feasted on up until now. Such a delicious flavor, truly the best sensation running down his throat. To have you offer that last little sip to him? Ah, fuck.

 The feeling in his stomach flutters at the thought of turning someone for the first time. Knowing that someone will be you. Knowing that you wouldn’t be a companion filled with resentment and agony at your new life. 

It’s electrifying. Like his heart could beat again at any second because you truly make him feel like he’s never experienced death at all. Despite being surrounded by it, despite experiencing it himself, despite taking lives daily for thousands of years. 

It’s amazing to him, to love someone so much he’s willing to fate them with eternal thirst, congealed blood, glitter and gold, beautiful and ugly, accidental lures before intentional ones. 

Death.

Vile, cold, damp skin. Safe light of the moon, dust in the sun. The only threat is that of life itself.

Light. Sharp pointed dogwood stakes. Beheadings. 

But…a companion.

The life he could live with you, oh the joy that runs through him is far too beautiful. The forever life. Eternity. Living through it all, far surpassing the roaches and bacteria of this earth. With you. 

So many things you’ve forced him to understand. Loneliness, despair, want, need, envy. It’s been so long since he’s entertained petty mortal feelings, but you forced them into him and out of him. The only need he’s grown accustomed to was hunger and thirst. Never love, or warmth, or want. 

Oh, forever. The two of you could starve after draining every living soul. All it takes is for him to take that last gush of blood from you. 

Without the lure. Without the manipulation. 

Never would he perform the rite without your pleasant voice telling him to. Never would he want to spend eternity with a woman so luring who would want nothing more than to be the blade slicing through the bone in his neck. 

That legendary, utterly delicious, last drop of blood that he’s tasted so many times before. It’s different this time only because the blood isn’t for him and him alone now. He has to share it, and it pains him to know that none would taste quite like yours. 

The hardest part would be controlling his instinct of swallowing it instantly, rendering you dead and unmoving for the eternity he wishes to have you. 

A new feeling. 

Anxiety. 

Your death would be slow, a cold and dreary one, but it wouldn’t be lonely. He’d make sure you feel so good through it. He wouldn’t spill a drop. You’d be clean, avoiding a gruesome death otherwise. 

And time would be against him, because upon taking that last drop, he’d barely be able to savor it before continuing the rite. A final sip that he can’t even swallow. A final sip that must be fed to you. Blood leaving your veins only to slide down into your emptied stomach through dead lips.

There, a final exhale, and then forever inhales. 

You’d look so beautiful dying next to him. He’d hold you through it. 

Is fate so dreary in a moment like that? Where is he feeling something akin to love for the first time in lifetime after lifetime? Is he selfish to need you so badly? 

“You could have it all.” He inhales the words at your drowsy face nearing sleep again. The silence you lended after his last comment kept him in his head, and now he wants out of it. 

He hugs against you so tightly, trying to keep you awake despite knowing he likely fucked you too long and too hard.  Still, he wants to encourage a life with him for you. 

“I can give it all to you.”

You’re silent at his words as you listen to him. You soak them into your sleepy head and smile.

“Sunghoo-”

“I beg of you.” He answers for you, grabbing your face tightly and landing an immediate kiss against your lips. A deep kiss, one that…oh. He’s crying. 

You feel the cold wet hit your cheeks as he kisses. He does it before you can even move your own lips against him, but you do start to kiss him back. Your brows furrow in concern at this new emotion he’s showing to you, but your handles are gentle when you caress his cheeks through it. 

“Die for me.” He whispers through the kiss, trying not to let you pull back at the words. He knows now that you heard them loud and clear.

Oh.

Why is there nothing in this world that you want more?

“It’ll only hurt for a little while.” He tries to make it sound pretty with his soothing whispers, not yet realizing that he hasn’t cried in several centuries. “You’ll come back.”

“Are you asking me to–?” You breathe out for him, once, twice, and then never finish what you were trying to ask simply because he makes himself very clear.

“You can be like me, my love.” 

Your body pulses in fear, but the adrenaline hits you in all the right spots as you break eye contact to cling instead, this time shoving your nose up and against his neck. Wanting nothing more than this dead skin, needing nothing more than a man who wants to kill you. 

But Sunghoon doesn’t want to end you, no. He wants to keep you forever. 

And forever is different with Sunghoon. It’s never ending. 

Are you even prepared to never see an end? With the man whispering so sweetly to you? Absolutely. 

Would a split second decision like this ruin your life forever? What's forever anyway? When you have many lives to ruin and many more to deem a success if you choose to go with him. 

Die. Only to live forever? 

You nod once, then you shake your head. His arms wrap around you tightly at your indecisiveness. He’s content enough just knowing you’re considering it and truly, he’s trying to be patient. Waiting and well aware that the question is likely the hardest decision you’ll ever need to make. 

“I’ll beg again and again.” He whispers, feeling your panicked lips try to calm your breathing against his neck. Still, you’re clinging to him tightly and it makes him feel…happy. “I cannot fathom a death for you that’s not this. Forever gone from me.” 

You shake your head again, but then…you nod. 

“Will it hurt?” You ask, feeling your heart rate threaten to kill you before Sunghoon even gets the chance himself. 

“Tremendously.” He chuckles at the ignorance, though even he barely remembers the pain himself these days.

 “Only for a little while, darling. I told you.” He licks his lips, anticipating the blood running through you to run through him soon. The hunger is almost overcoming him now and if you don’t agree, he very well may end up killing you regardless.

And the thought pains him. 

If there was ever a time to hold himself back, it’s now.

“Don’t die without me here with you. Now or ever.” He continues in a sweet voice, trying to control the wavering breaks his throat is trying to force out of him. 

“Can I…” You stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can I have a minute to think?” 

“Oh course,” He smiles to hide his frustration, pulling you back by your shoulders and sitting himself up against your bed. “But, the sun rises in three hours, and that’s three hours of fighting my urge to do it without your confirmation.”

You pause, finding comfort in the fact that he’s willing to suffer through your inevitable acceptance. There’s no way you’ll end up saying no to him, only because of how badly it hurt when you walked away from him. It rotted within you for weeks, and even when you thought you were better…all he had to do was stand outside your door to have you running to be in his arms.

What’s a bad decision when you could have lifetimes to make up for it? Even if said decision is what gives you those lifetimes. He’s asking for you to stay with him. To be with him. Isn’t that what you want?

But to die…

And you only cling to him through the fear, hoping he can save you from what he’s offering. He’s the comfort and the ultimate end. 

Or, perhaps, the ultimate beginning.

You’re not sure. You only found out vampires are real like two months ago. It’s not exactly something you can comprehend so quickly, but it is something you know you want more than anything if it means you can be next to Sunghoon. 

“Will it ease your fear if I talk about what it’s like to be me?” Sunghoon offers both a reason to give you insight, as well as distract his own mind during this moment of distress.

You nod immediately, hugging yourself so tightly to his side and trying to keep your nose up and against him simply because that brings you the most comfort. Smelling the faint cinnamon, feeling him against you. 

“I’m the first of my family to reside here, but I’ve been here for thirty years. Commoners aren’t aware as I try to remain hidden save for when I need to hunt.” He starts, continuing after hearing the way your heart calms. “But, city officials know very well who I am, and where I come from.” 

You listen, trying to take in his words as truth rather than fantasy. 

“I was born in seventeen thirty eight, overseas. Every few hundred years I’ll relocate simply because it becomes boring watching the same country grow and be destroyed. I ran from many wars, have lived many lives.” 

Oh. Okay.

“I know every language. I’ve lived every life you can imagine, worked every job you can think of to rid myself of boredom.” 

“So you weren’t always pretending to be a priest?” You try to make light of the fear within you, almost, somehow, wanting to snort at his choice of current lifestyle. 

“Ah, no.” He chuckles for you, rolling his eyes at how you mock him in the face of your own death. “I was a banker before this, I despised it. Only lasted about seven years before relocating here.”

A pause, you hear him chuckle. 

“I really despise numbers.”

In the calmness of his voice, within his gentle grasp, you feel comfortable. 

“Did you come for the cathedral?” 

He nods, holding you against him even tighter.

“History is protected, whether it be land, buildings, or people. It felt fitting to be a priest if I was to stumble inside parading as a drunken man needing a place to stay.” 

“How did you become, uh, what did she call you? Master?”

“Ah,” Another scoffed chuckle at your ignorance. “Did you believe them to be alive?” 

You freeze, body stiffening at the shock. They were fucking dead?! This whole time?!

“I slept in a cathedral full of fucking vampires?!” 

“You did.” He smiles. “But they are very well aware of what’s mine.”

He loves the way your face looks when you process words. He is more aware than you think of how insane all of this must sound to you. Yet, still, he has never truly lied to you. 

“They needed an order, so I brought that order. Thus, Master.” He smiles as he motions towards himself with you still in his grasp, as if he’s playfully boasting his own intelligence over the vampire-nuns. 

You pull back to look at him, feeling a bit calmer now in the way he describes countless lives and knowledge. You can’t experience any of that with the life you have right now. In fifty to sixty years you’ll be in an urn on your mother’s fireplace. 

Why would you want that when you could be in a bed with silk sheets? Or perhaps by then you’ll be able to travel elsewhere with Sunghoon, finding new beds with even softer sheets.

And only now do you realize that Sunghoon didn’t put you in danger at all. In fact, he knew he was dangerous and forced you to live. Even when you asked him to kill you. He…

Oh. Wow.

“Now, what is it, you think, that made you so special in regards to that woman you found me with? What is it, love? What do you believe kept me from ending your life to sustain my own?” And goddamn does it feel good to finally say it. Sunghoon loves the feeling of the words coming out of his mouth, finally spilling it all to you and seeing you only react with cheeky curiosity. 

“Why is that? Can you tell me?”

You’re silent as you think of his questions, unable to answer at all.  

“No…” You breathe out, knowing he can feel the hot breath against him only because his hand squeezes your waist. 

“I suppose after how long I’ve wandered this earth, even I am left with curiosities and questions too.” He smiles when he says it, thankful to know he hasn’t yet experienced everything there is. “I’d like to know why you have this hold on me too, darling.”

“Maybe it’s because I want it?” 

“Perhaps, yes. If you didn’t I likely would have savored every ounce of you already and for that, I should be thankful.” 

He shifts now, pressing you down against your bed and hovering over you with dark and sparkling eyes. His lips immediately go to your neck with the hunger he feels. Talking isn’t enough anymore. Holding you isn’t enough. He hasn’t eaten in days, and the fact that he could hold off even until now is strange to him. 

“Unlike many, you do not seek death–” He drags his lips against your skin, relishing in it. “You exist alongside it happily, you welcome it.” He continues to talk, his teeth now retracting against your skin and leaving little swollen scratches with each drag. “Perhaps had I not chosen to be a priest during this lifetime, you’d have already said yes.” 

“A singer? A dancer? Anything you wish for, I’ll become.” He smiles when he feels the goosebumps plump up under his teeth, and it’s so, so, hard not to bite. “So, won’t you stay? “

He listens so closely to your heart and breathing, nearly moaning at the need for it. 

“Watching you wither to death by anything other than my own teeth would surely have me seekinga dogwood.” 

Ah, so the fantasy movies and novels aren’t all wrong? So strange, truly, that he lives in a cathedral of crosses made from the very wood that could kill him. 

“We could be anything, go anywhere, dine on meals you merely taste but never need.”

He nods his head against your skin, hoping you’ll nod along with him, knowing that you will. 

“You could be mine, forever.” 

You’ve accepted him already, you just haven’t said so yet. He doesn’t mind sweet talking you though, reminding you of everything he can and will provide.

And to you, every single word he mutters is pretty, and everything you could ever need or want is right here. 

“I could be yours, forever.”

“I think–” You breathe out, hands now reaching up to scratch through his hair. “there is nothing I could want more than this.”

And the moment he gets that final word of confirmation out to you, he bites. The words you mutter drive him to it. He couldn’t even kiss you in appreciation simply because his instinct takes over. He lets go. 

Finally, he can let go. 

The need to control himself is no longer here, and it feels astounding. 

The sting is deep and it rings within you so loudly that you could hear the puncture vibrate your brain. Your ears burn at the direct puncture, and already you can feel his hands bracing you through it. As if he knows he’s never bitten you so deep in your pulse point like this. 

But the intention behind it somehow feels better than anything you’ve ever experienced. This is what you were jealous of and now you can only agree with your past self. There was good reason to be jealous of feeling this from him. Except, unlike that woman, he’s holding you through it. He’s grunting against your neck and swallowing large portions of your blood as the seconds pass. Losing himself with you. Almost as if he’s dying with you.

And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, to the point your toes are feeling the sleep overtake them, then your legs, all the way up and down your body until your fingers are too weak to keep gripping against the locks of hair on the back of his neck.

You feel his fingers soothe you through the weakness when he pulls back, keeping his promise of not wasting a single drop. There is no blood smeared on him, only a trace of it on his inner lips as he watches your weakened expressions. 

He isn’t intentionally draining you so quickly, but…fuck. The blood. That glorious scent and taste was already too much to bear, but now? Knowing he gets all of it save for the best and final sip? He genuinely can’t help it. Controlling himself now after how long he’s held back? 

Darling, you asked for this. 

And his body reacts in aroused euphoria. Already he feels an orgasm bubble up just witnessing you die for him. Even then, he barely feels the heightened pleasure because the mind, dead or not, simply cannot comprehend the pure potent pleasure he’s experiencing.

He spills out all over himself, while you spill out for him. Your life, your very being. 

How can he not be terribly, horrifyingly, utterly stupendously in love with you? 

“My love, the light in your eyes will come back soon.” He smiles as he watches what happens to you through this, and then throws his head back in manic pleasure with a deep and animalistic moan. Arguably, even his eyes hold more life than yours right now. 

So, so beautiful. 

You’re too weak to speak, but you shake your head. Nothing is a pain to lose, nothing except him. 

And you find comfort in the way he sinks his teeth right back into those puncture marks. Sucking more and more out of you with a content smile on his face. He doesn’t think he could ever feel happier, knowing you’re giving him everything, and he wants nothing more than to return the favor to you.

Oh, how he wishes it were you sucking the life out of his veins. You’d be so gentle, you’d look so pretty losing your mind like he is right now. 

You continue to feel your body grow numb, up to the point that your heart rate slows at the loss of blood. To the point you can tell he’s sucking harder and harder just to get more. You feel a weight shift inside of your body, it writhes and chokes every inch of your innards. 

Shrivelling, spiraling, cramping. 

If you could curl in on yourself right now, you would, but you’re too weak even for that. You can’t even twitch a finger against Sunghoon at this moment as you feel everything within you dehydrate and search for life. 

It hurts. 

Badly. So badly that at this moment, you can’t remember a single thing that has ever felt good. In fact, everything is painful. Life is painful and horrifyingly full of things that will hurt you. But–Sunghoon is here. That much, you still recognize. Even through the pain, and even through the twisting inside of you, he remains constant. He’s soothing you through it well past the comprehension of your dying brain. 

You can’t shiver at the loss of warmth, but you do try to take a breath. Working your weak body to near exhaustion just at the act of trying to expand your lungs. And oh, you can’t even open your eyes at the way the last breath doesn’t come. You must have lost it already. 

And then, darkness. 

Nothing. 

And it feels like this for an eternity. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to fear or love. 

Absolutely fucking nothing. And to think humanity has built governments off promised afterlifes? To think anything ever mattered in the first place? The emptiness soothes and relieves your still working soul, wisping in the darkness for eternities more it seems. 

To the point names and faces leave you, and all you can think, feel, or hear is that of unfilled space and pure, deafening, silence. You cannot feel content, or peace, or happiness here. You just feel nothing. And it truly feels good to be nothing. 

Until there's warmth. You feel it somewhere hugging you, or perhaps inside of you? Do you even have a body to hold warmth now within this vast void of darkness? Why do you hear…?

Feelings come back to you tenfold. Seemingly experiencing everything you’ve ever felt and lived through all at once. That deafening silence becomes louder, louder, louder, until– it flourishes in the pit of your belly.

So much chaos within you. Swirling and bubbling in such a way that it fucking blooms in this darkness. You feel like you’re burning, freezing, dying, living, fucking drowning all at once. 

That flourish forces the nothingness out of you. As comfortable as this place is, there is nothing and you want something. You need something. You crave…something.

A little dribble running down your throat leaving a trail of warm, blooming heat. As if you just swallowed a sun-ray itself. Only now can you feel your body again enough to know where the heat is coming from. It blossoms within you, increasing each sense within your body tenfold. 

It doesn’t hurt. 

Only now do you recognize that it’s silent again, as if you were slammed into a wall by the force of the god you now know does not exist. You feel yourself restrict under skin, you feel cold, you feel…heavy. 

And the silence is still too loud to be so restricted. You miss the sounds of what you must have unintentionally listened to every waking moment of your life. The only true soundtrack of a living, loving, and heat-radiating being. 

No heart-beat. No whirring of blood. No rumbling in your stomach. Nothing.

And yet still, it doesn’t hurt. 

Just a bouquet in the pits in your belly. Your precious life, all summed up in that single diluted sip of blood. 

And somehow, someway, you regain your strength faster than it took for you to lose it. You open your eyes on instinct and the world is glowing. Sunghoon is glowing. As lifeless as you are, and as empty as your brain is at this moment, you reach out to him immediately.

But he has yet to let go of you since all of this started. He stayed. He held you, just like he said he would. 

“Did it hurt badly?” Sunghoon calls out to you, helping your mind awaken again. 

He barely remembers the pain he went through when it happened to him. Truly, pain is so temporary, so meaningless to indulge but, the curiosity still sits with him. 

After watching you for upwards of two hours to both die and come back to life, he can’t help but wonder if it was anything like what he experienced. 

Even with that curiosity though, seeing you open your eyes for the first time in your new life fills Sunghoon with overwhelming glee. To the point he feels like a child, wanting to ask so many questions, thoughts shifting from this, to that, up until all his thoughts run together and all he can do is squeeze you in his grasp. 

He’d have pulled down the stars if he could just so it could be your first view of the afterlife with him. But alas, he couldn’t step away even for a moment. He needed to be with you, not just for your sake, but his own. 

You’re cold now, but oh, the blood within him could satiate him for hundreds of years. It’s gone from you now, and he fears not missing it. Not when you’re here. Not when you chose to be here with him. 

You weakly nod to him, amazed at being able to do it again. Already the pain you’d previously felt feels like a long lost memory as you stare back at him. 

“I’m sorry.” He smiles through the apology, unable to pretend he means the words at all. “I didn’t intend to drain you so quickly. My poor love, you must have felt miserable.” 

You nod again, feeling him so tightly against you.

Only just realizing that he’s holding you. Your body, it’s coming back to you. You can feel sensations again. 

“I feel–” Your voice cracks with a dry throat and you inhale.

On instinct, you try to exhale but your throat just gets drier and drier. 

“I–”

Sunghoon coos, shushing you with a gentle kiss. Lending you his own saliva because if there’s one thing he can remember, it’s the act of learning how to…not breathe. 

“Slowly, love, slowly.” He smiles when he pulls back, watching you swallow around his gift and instantly droop your eyes again. 

“You’ve only just died and you have all the time in this world to speak, no need to do it now.” 

And he’s right. You’re spinning, yet balanced. Fuzzy yet smooth. You are everything and nothing at this moment with your glowing after-death aroma. Sunghoon smiles, cradling the back of your head. 

Finally, he’s gotten to drink you in full. No true death, and he feels more elated than he ever expected. Almost lulled to sleep at the scent of you disappearing. Never will he taste your blood again, but you. He has you now. Knowing you had a taste at all is enough. Knowing that he has broken for you enough to beg you.

To beg you to die for him just to be with him on a level deeper than thirst. 

Never once has he wanted someone like this.

And never once had he expected you to agree with him. 

The moment is sweet with him, and still you’ve yet to comprehend the truth reality of your life now. You know at least, that it could take longer than you’d have had previously to figure it out. You did this to be with someone, and that someone is right here next to you. Smiling, clinging, seemingly ecstatic to know he’s no longer alone. 

A forever companion, truly this time. 

And as sweet as the moment is, time still moves even after becoming ageless. 

“The sun will rise soon,” Sunghoon hums at your reluctant gaze at the window. “Shall we go home?”

You would nod. Truly, you would, if it weren’t for that suffocating scent entering your nose. 

Roses? No, tulips?

Lavender? 

Your belly pangs, a dry and itchy feeling overtaking your entire being. To the point that Sunghoon clinging to you can’t even calm the itch. The world stops at the scent, so strong and sweet. 

Sunghoon smells it too though, and he knows. He’s experienced it time and time again, though he’s long since learned how to control it, clearly. He purses his lips in frustration. You’ve only just come back, and he’d very much like to get you home with him so that you can learn and grow accustomed to this life. You need to realize that you haven’t even experienced the hardest part yet. 

Disappearing. 

After all, his intention was to hunt for you, teach you, comfort you. There’s so much to do now that the deed is done, and he hadn’t prepared for interruptions such as this.

Unfortunately, he knows very well the thirst. You won’t be able to control it, especially considering he knows this scent too. He has to force himself to try and lend you alluring words, but they seem to go through one ear and out the other. 

Your brain is empty at the scent. 

“Ah, what a turn of events.” He tics his tongue with a smile. “I smell him too.”

Your eyes do not reach Sunghoon at all, but he understands. Even with the jealousy in his gut. 

A key clicking into a lock, a turn of the knob. The sound is amplified in your ears along with the scent. 

“Wake up and help me unload all this shit!” 

Oh, what a shame. 

You really loved Jungwon. 

“Can you smell it flowing through him?” Sunghoon smiles at the light in your eye now, endeared by the way scent ignites you entirely. As envious of Jungwon as he is to hold certain parts of you when he couldn’t do it himself, seeing the way you react arouses him beyond belief. 

Your first feeling of thirst. 

“Shall I greet him?�� 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jungwon peers at the stoic figure that appeared from your bedroom. His first thought is that he’s going to kick your fucking ass because number one, this better not be who he thinks it is. And number two–

There is no number two. A mere three seconds after stepping into his new home with you, his mind goes fuzzy. Thinking only of you, of needing to see you, of needing to make sure you’re okay. 

He wants to know if you slept well, and if you were able to have any sweet dreams without him here. 

“Jungwon, I take it?” Sunghoon lends him a lively smile, impressed by the pull you unintentionally lay on the guy. 

“Ah, yeah.” Jungwon weakly scratches the back of his neck before feeling his body move on its own. “Where is she? I need to see her.” 

It’s a pity, really, but Sunghoon has seen it time and time again with his own victims. A weak mind, one that is easily broken and even easier to lure. It’s kind of cute really, seeing how breathing humans cling to what balances them. 

He almost feels bad for taking you from Jungwon, but he doesn't only because he hates that he has to see you drink from someone you were attached to. He knows it’ll hurt you when you realize, and he no longer wants to see you hurt after witnessing your death.

As beautiful as it was. 

Jungwon truly chases you, stepping through the apartment and dropping everything in his hands without care. He heads straight to your room, swallowed in a somber smile and a welcome scent. One that he doesn’t know is death.

“Wonnie.” You rasp sweetly. “Come here.” 

There’s no reluctance within him, even upon hearing Sunghoon close the door behind him and lock it. Even when the man looms at the door, watching, narrowing his eyes at you in jealousy. 

You ignore it as you grow enamored with Jungwon at this moment. Is this what his life smells like? So pretty, it truly fits him. 

And it drowns out all of your thoughts. The flowers, like a fresh spring day with no worry. You think it’s your favorite smell in the world as you inhale him with each step he takes toward you. 

For Jungwon, even upon feeling you grip his shirt, pulling him closer than he’s ever been to you without the excuse of comfort, he pays no mind. He missed this bubble he shared with you, the single night with his sister almost felt like agony to be away from you.

After all, the love he holds for you is truly deeper than romance. There is no need for any physicality between the two of you, yet…he welcomes it at this moment. In fact, he’s entirely aroused, stiffening in his pants at the sheer blissful anxiety your uncanny smile and shining eyes lend to him. 

Did you truly miss him so much? 

“You look so pretty…” He trails off, closing his eyes as he feels you caress his warm cheeks. “Your hands are so cold, let me—ah” 

You’ve never felt an instinct quite like this. You could truly hear it, the pulse of his heart. You can still smell his sweet scent, and you truly weren’t in control of your own body when you gripped him, lifted, and sank your teeth right against his pulse point. 

Jungwon moans at the bite, drifting off entirely at first contact. 

All while Sunghoon continues to loom. Watching with weight in his pants. The way you bite so messily, spilling blood and wasting it as it trickles down Jungwon’s throat. The small sounds your mouth makes as you suck has him throbbing non-stop, to the point he almost needs to hold onto something just to keep from jumping on you, just to keep from tasting Jungwon himself.

And, oh, his pretty love, you have so much to adapt to. 

It appears he does as well. 

As he watches the furrow of your brows at the first taste falling to that of relief and pleasure as you drink, and you drink, and you drink, until–

Sunghoon smirks now, quirking his brow at how you stop yourself before he needs to step in and separate the two of you. In all honesty, he was unsure if he’d be able to give in and stop you either. After all, killing Jungwon now would prove easier than letting him live.

The fact that you stopped yourself though. Perhaps your mind grew more stubborn and strong-willed through death. He nearly cannot believe that you aren’t draining the man dry right now. 

And you aren’t even sure yourself why you do. The feeling in your gut is full and satiated, but the grip Jungwon has on you only grows more and more limp. You love the way he clings as much as the taste, and even through his slumber, he clinged so tight. 

Not so much now though, and that scared you. So, you let go. 

If only because truly, you do love Jungwon. Enough to no longer pull him into your messes despite forcing him to become one at this moment. What’s even more scary is though, even with all of the endearment you held towards him in life, the feeling is only amplified now. These new bitter and floral scents pulsing through him makes you want to protect him from any leech wanting to drink it out of him.

Even if you’re the leech. 

Ah, he tasted like honey suckle, and it dropped down your throat like honey too. Warm, gentle, pretty. Just like him. 

And you have to continue to keep yourself from sinking your teeth into him. Your stomach is greedy, wanting more, but too in love with the life he has and willingly wanted to share with you as a best friend and forever comfort. 

Forever for Jungwon is nothing but a moment to you now, but it’s one you hope he enjoys, at least. 

And when you hold him against you, so weak and sound asleep, you look at Sunghoon. The tears fall so, so, cold against your cheeks. The heightened senses within you become overwhelming with the horrifying silence and intense smell of floral blood wafting through your nose. 

“Much like you, he won’t remember. You lured him deeply, love, did you know that? He was asleep from the moment he saw you.” 

You pause, nodding as the tears continue to fall. 

“Brilliant.” He compliments now, moving to hold you as you cling to Jungwon. 

“Sunghoon, did my blood taste like that?” 

Sunghoon kisses you once, sucking Jungwon’s blood from your tongue. 

“Ah,” He chokes. “Absolutely not.”

You pause at his scrunched nose. 

“You were much sweeter.” He whispers sweetly, fondly, tilting his head to kiss against you again, licking the mess of Jungwon’s blood from your lips, chin, and neck. Still, he chokes it down. “I’ll miss it.”

“What did it taste like?” Your weak and dry voice falters repeatedly, but you need to speak right now.

“You tell me.” 

You only slightly remember the flavor as you were brought back. Warm, blooming, spicy, sickeningly sweet. 

“I have never tasted anything compared to it…” 

“Exactly.” Sunghoon smiles, inhaling deeply and lending no breath against your skin when he scrapes his teeth there. “Like the sun.” He hums, nosing down to your neck and inhaling again, arms only slightly trying to push Jungwon out of your grasp. “Like the one thing that could get me killed.” 

You cling tightly to your best friend though, not wanting any more harm to come to him. Still, you stare at Sunghoon’s sweet words, finding yourself smiling at all that is to be gained rather than lost. 

Your life. The light outside, the light in your eyes, the warmth. 

Not Jungwon though. 

“You don’t intend to leave him be, no?” Sunghoon furrows a brow at how your face rises for him, but falls instantly at inhaling Jungwon’s blood. 

You frantically shake your head. 

“We’ll figure something out, love.” He says now, looking away from you and doing his best to ignore the envy that fills him time and time again when this floral-boy is near. 

He told you he’d do anything for you, give anything to you. 

If that includes Jungwon….

Ah, always so fucking stubborn. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun rises and falls. 

Repeatedly, for months. 

Jungwon wakes himself with the warm sun hitting his face, the bed just as warm from his own body heat. He loves this space, and adores the way that even if it’s only him, he never feels lonely with that pretty smell in the air. 

Every morning when he wakes up, and every night before he goes to bed.

The shock of learning the inevitable still hurts him from time to time, but still, he smiles with that dimple you threatened you’d steal right off his face if he chose not to show it to you. 

His hand reaches to his neck, the single wound you gave him and apologized profusely for after. It’s healed well.

And when his phone vibrates in the middle of the day, he wonders why you’re awake. 

You: wonnie

Wonnie: wat

You: come over

Wonnie: was wondering why you were trying so hard. nearly suffocated this morning. 

You: and you were fighting it? asshole

Wonnie: be over in a few, stinky

And as strange as it is, Sunghoon doesn’t mind that you wouldn’t let Jungwon go. After several conversations needing reassurance that you’re not trying to spend your forever elsewhere, anyway.

Really, to think you’d die for him but want someone else? Sunghoon truly is insane, but so are you. 

And it works. 

Because Jungwon loves insanity, even if he hates Sunghoon with a passion. Even if he can only see you with Sunghoon in the room too. Even if you’re dead. 

You’re still his best friend, and he doesn’t mind helping you disappear as long as it’s not from him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

not me accidentally making this a sunghoon ft.jungwon fic. 

let me make this incredibly clear. jungwon are reader are not romantically in love, though they do love each other deeply. in a way where finding out one of them is a goddamn vampire doesn’t change a single thing or feeling. 

remember that this is fiction, it isn’t meant to be realistic.

pls do not rant at me about how much jungwon is in this fic either. i wrote it that way on purpose. if you don’t love best friend jungwon then im very sorry for you and hope you get well soon!!! 

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha smut

[m0nsterqzzz]

word count: 3k

- Liar Liar - 

Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary - in which, you stumble upon the most beautiful woman you've ever seen while in search of a job you can put your piano skills to use at. The only thing? She's a teacher who thinks you're in search of lessons. All's far in love and music right?

a/n - wanda + music = me fucking dying. lol. haven't updated in a while that's my bad. i love you guuuuyyyyyysss.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

You hadn’t meant to lie.

You’d went into the slightly shady neighborhood in search of a job, preferably one that let you play piano- your passion- and still had a decent amount of pay so you would be able to afford that apartment you got recently.

It’s a small town though, and no one really has any need for music as they own record players and other forms of listening devices. No one cares about classical music anymore.

Maybe you should have listened when your father told you music would never be a good career.

So you gave up hope, walking downtown to the store to get a simple and cheap frozen dinner that you could watch while sulking in front of the tv. Being an adult is hard, and you often find yourself wondering what you would do if you had just been given one chance to go back in time and not rush growing up.

You heard the familiar and peaceful sound of piano, and just like anytime you hear it, you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk to simply listen. There’s a small store next to all the tall and beautiful ones, one that probably gets lost a lot in the sight of all the other, more important buildings. A young woman is sitting inside near the front, visible through the big glass window that you silently watch her through. Her skilled fingers dance across the keyboard, creating an aura in the world that has you stuck in a magical trance.

The song slowly goes quieter, and you watch her take a deep sigh before turning her head to look out the window- as if knowing you were there. You panic, blushing in embarrassment before you pretend to read the signs taped to the door.

A bright smile graces your face as you actually begin to read them. A few of them just talk about upcoming concerts in town square, but one big one smack dab in the middle catches your eye;

Hiring!

Tutors, managers, cleaners

$16.45 a hour

It’s not a lot of money, but it’s enough and you’d get to do what you love while seemingly getting to hang out with a pretty girl. It’s a win, win, win. For you.

“Sorry. That sign is old. My friend was supposed to take it down.” Someone quietly speaks beside you, and you almost jump in fear when you see that the woman you had previously been looking at through the window is now standing right next to you, staring blankly before she tears the sign off the door. She’s even more pretty in person, from her long auburn hair to her piercing greens eyes that most people would fear as she stares at you silently though all you feel is nervous and giddy.

“Right…well….do you still have any openings?” You ask, placing your hands in your pockets as you rock back and forth on your heels. She watches with curious eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She answers quietly, a stark contrast to your happy mood, though she doesn't exactly seem upset. More like calm. “Yes. Lessons are 10 dollars for an hour and a half.”

You frown in confusion. Does she think you’re looking for a teacher? You go to tell her you’re looking to be a teacher, but your eyes fall on the little picture on the door that has a photo of her next to a few others of other people. Under her’s is the title; “owner and teacher”

“Would you be my teacher?” The words fall out of your mouth before you can stop them, so you purse your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else.

The girl’s lips turn upwards in the beginning of a smile. “Yes. I would.”

You practically grin, and it’s like you don’t even remember the several years of college you went through to get a career in music as you say, “Then I’d like to take lessons from you. I like piano. I want to learn how to play.”

She does smile now, nodding as she opens the door which makes the bell above it ring. “That’s great. Follow me and we’ll get you signed up.” You do follow her inside, taking in the beauty of the hidden shop. There are pianos and other instruments everywhere, ones that look worn out yet still pretty. Open songbook’s litter every open space and she gets to the front desk before digging through a pile of them for the forms you need to sign.

After signing way to many forms and paying a small fee, you shake her hand with the one that isn’t cramping.

“Thank you for choosing Scarlett's Melodies. I’m Wanda Maximoff. I own the shop and tutor most of the students.” You smile, squeezing her hand before you awkwardly place your hand in your pocket and introduce yourself.

Wanda. A pretty name for a pretty girl.

You obviously don’t say that though. Anxiety exists yall.

Instead you leave with a new found pep in your step.

That is until you remember that you just spent a ton of money and don’t even have a job. Wow. What the fuck is Wanda Maximoff doing to you?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you have to get a job, so you get one at the nice restaurant in town that your friend works at. You spend most of your day serving customers, taking orders, and cleaning, and the only reason you continue to do it is that every other day, you just have to think about the fact that once work is over, you get to go see the beautiful piano teacher.

It’s not hard to play down your skill, but it is a little bit funny every time you slip up and tell her you already know something and then have to make the excuse that you’re doing some studying on your own time as well.

Wanda has a sweet personality, though she is a bit cold and standoffish sometimes. You learn a lot about her over the past few weeks though, like her late brother Pietro, her friends Natasha and Clint who are also workers at the store, and how she came to love music so much as to start up her own store for it.

“You’re late.” She says when you run in six minutes past the time you’re supposed to be there, but her tone is light and teasing as she scans through some notes on her sheet music. She lets you take them home sometimes to study them, but you mostly just study her pretty handwriting and the little doodles she leaves for you to find.

You chuckle, taking off your coat and hanging it up next to her leather jacket near the door. The place is cozy and if not for the workers constantly running in and out, you’d say it feels more like a home than a store.

“Sorry. I was at work.” She nods as you speak, handing you a book she made more notes in before pointing over to a piano set up against a wall. It’s nicely toned and made of a beautiful wood, and once she learned it was probably your favorite, she “teaches” you at that one every single lesson.

You sit on the bench, trying your hardest not to blush when she rubs her hand on your back before sitting closely next to you. It’s one of your favorite parts of the lessons- when she sits close enough that you can smell her perfume. Vanilla with a hint of sage, and it’s quickly become one of your favorite scents.

“We’re gonna work on something a bit harder today alright? I think you can do it, but the notes are in a slightly weird pattern and may be hard to remember.” Wanda says, flipping to a page in the book before setting it up on the music rack. 

It’s one of your favorites and quite easy to play after years of practicing, but you don’t tell her that.

By the end of the almost two hour lesson, you have pretended to learn the first part of the song, purposefully messing it up every once in a while so you don’t expose yourself.

You’re starting to feel a bit guilty about the lying, but then she smiles proudly and showers you in compliments and you forget all about it.

Wanda walks you to the door, leaning on the wall as you put on your coat and grab your stuff. You’re tired, but that feeling doesn’t even begin to compare to the one that comes when she holds your hand and smiles towards you.

“There’s a small event in town this weekend.” She starts, pointing towards the sign up on her big bulletin board. “A few people playing pieces, some nice food. I think you should join. You’re one of my most advanced students.”

You grin, hesitantly nodding. “I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun.”

The redhead nods as well, smiling slightly as she writes your name down on the sign up sheet. You’ll play after a few other students and teachers, and you must tell her what piece you want to play by tomorrow so you can spend the next few lessons practicing it.

With that you say your goodbyes, lingering in a hug with the Maximoff girl before you finally leave, walking home with a love sick smile on your face. Little did you know, the same one is gracing Wanda’s face as she closes up the shop and makes her way home.

— – — – — – — – —

When the day of the concert comes around, you’re nervous.

You don’t know why. You could play this piece in your sleep, but for some reason, the same nerves that were with you during your first performance as a child are now fluttering around in your stomach as you sit on a piano bench in the town square.

Wanda is talking with some of the other students, and you try and distract yourself by looking at her with adoration in your eyes, but it all comes back at a higher level when she notices you and winks your way.

She’s so pretty, and you fight the urge to slam your head on the instrument as she finishes up her conversation and begins walking towards you.

“Hey hon. How you feeling?” Wanda stands behind you, rubbing your shoulders reassuringly as she reads over the notes on your sheet music. You shrug, blushing brightly at her touch as you pretend to be focusing on smoothing out your shirt of non-existent wrinkles.

“I’m okay. Kinda nervous.” You say, and the blush only deepens when she hums in understanding and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Don’t be. You’re going to be great.” Her words make you grin, and you lean your head back to rest on her stomach as she gently runs her fingers through your hair. Someone calls her name, so she gently caresses your face before patting your back and walking away.

Oh the things that Wanda Maximoff does to you.

While you’re waiting for your turn on stage, you get bored, so you sit back on the bench and begin to quickly play through one of the hardest songs you know. It took forever to learn and you still mess up every once and a while, but it still would sound beautiful to anyone and by the end of it, you do hear someone slightly chuckle in shock.

It isn't a happy laugh or happy shock though. That much you can tell.

“I didn’t teach you that.” A slightly bitter tone speaks, and you slowly turn around to come face to face with Wanda, fists clenched at her sides and a curious but slightly annoyed expression on her face.

You want to continue to lie, to tell her you’ve been working hard and her lessons are paying off, but no one who’s only been playing for a few months would be able to play that and she obviously knows the truth now.

“You wasted my time.” She says coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s no longer the bubbly girl you’ve come to have the pleasure of knowing, instead going back to the closed off woman you first met. It’s all your fault.

You look down in shame, letting the bouquet rest by your side. “I’m so sorry Wanda.”

Wanda scoffs, glaring at you before she storms out of the room. She’s pissed, but a warm feeling settles in her chest at the knowledge you went through all of this to hang out with her, even with the thought that you don’t have a chance with her. You still wasted her time though, and you lied to her for weeks, almost months. How can she trust that you truly aren’t just some psycho?

You stay in the middle of town square, tears forming in your eyes as more and more people gather to listen to the other pianists. You’re falling in love with Wanda Maximoff, and up until this point, it’s only ever been clear and sunny skies. What are you supposed to do now that your first cloud has appeared?

— – — – — – — – —

After that, you stop going to your lessons.

Wanda finds herself missing you every time 6 o’clock comes around and you don’t come sprinting into the shop with your work uniform still on, rambling about something a stupid customer did like you’ve known Wanda forever. It feels like that, that’s for sure.

You spend every day in an endless cycle. Get up, go to work, walk the long way so you don’t risk running into Wanda outside of her music store, work a nine hour shift, and return to your quiet apartment where you sit in silence and mourn for someone that still lives. 

Maybe you should adopt a dog.

One especially rough day, you wake up late, your alarm clock having turned off during a storm last night and reset itself all while you were asleep. Because of this, you wake up with five minutes to get ready and even less time to sprint to work, so you can’t take the long way like you usually do.

It’s lightly sprinkinly outside, so you don’t bother taking a jacket in the midst of chaos. That was clearly the wrong decision, as only a few minutes into your walk there, it starts absolutely pouring, and just like that, your uniform is soaked and you’re shivering. You don’t have any time to go back though, so you fight on, staying right next to the buildings for a bit of protection and you don’t even notice the person carefully watching you as you fastly walk down the sidewalk.

“Hey!” Someone calls out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a familiar building. It’s calm and quiet music is playing somewhere, but all you can focus on is that Wanda is standing in front of you, holding out a dry towel for you to grab.

You hesitate, grabbing it and holding it closely around your body in hopes of stopping the cold feeling in your bones. It’s much warmer in here and the only rain is tapping against the window from outside, but Wanda is here and she looks at you with a type of distaste you’ve never seen before.

“I need to get to work. I’m late.” You mumble eventually after a few minutes of silence, but she just puts her hands on your shoulders and rubs them to bring you more warmth as she replies calmly, “No. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You go to argue, but she simply shakes her head and sits down at your piano on the other end of the room. She begins to play a simple but calm song, and she watches in the corner of her eye as you sink down on the couch next to the fireplace and slowly close your eyes. You’re still awake though, that much she can tell by the way your fingers tap along to the pattern of the music.

Finally she slowly stops the song, letting her hands fall to rest on her thighs as she stares at the keyboard with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Why would you lie to me?”

You open your eyes, watching with a guilty but sincere look as she chews on her lower lip and gently presses a few of the keys. “I’m truly sorry Wanda. I figured if we spent that time together, I would be able to learn more about you…in hopes of eventually asking you out. It was stupid, and wrong, and I’m sorry.”

She sighs, closing the keyboard cover and turning to face you. “If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Is she messing with you?

Wanda continues, “If you had just told me all of that when we first met, we could have gone out and gotten dinner or- or lunch or on a picnic like normal people.” You nod along, silently fidgeting with the bottom of your shirt. “So go ahead.”

You’re silent for a second, looking around as if wondering if she’s talking to you to which she giggles and nods. That laugh could fix all your issues.

“Wanda Maximoff, I’d really like to get to know you. The right way this time. Will you go out with me?” You ask nervously after clearing your throat and sitting up in your seat.

Wanda smirks, rubbing her chin as if in deep thought. “I don’t know…”

You laugh a bit when she does, though you’re too busy smiling brightly as she nods. “I’d love to go out with you. No lying to me this time though. And you have to teach me that song you were playing at the recital.”

“No way. A magician never reveals their secrets.” You tease, sitting next to her on the bench as she laces your hands together and says with her own smile, “Oh really? So I just agreed to a date for nothing? You’re mean.”

 All is fair in love and music though.

⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ ☆ ໒˚⋆ ⋆˚ఎ

#wanda maximoff x you #marvel x reader #marvel #the scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel x you #piano

[screeching-bunny]

hi, can you be part two of yandere concubine harem

Yandere! Concubine Harem pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt.1

God fucking damnit it happened again. Currently, you were standing in front of your father as he was lecturing you. The reason for this scolding? Well, it was due to the fact that yet another one of your concubines had passed away. You wanted nothing more than to just go to bed and take a fat nap right now. Like how was this even remotely your fault? Everyone knows that once someone joins your harem there’s like a seventy percent chance of them dying. Yet they still do it! Why were you being blamed for their stupidity?

“I can’t fucking believe you!!! How could you let another one of your concubines die!?!? How on Earth are we supposed to explain this to the family!?!?”

“I honestly don’t understand why you're putting so much of the blame on me. Everyone literally knows the dangers of entering this place. This is the twelfth concubine to die. Can anyone really be surprised? Most people already know the fatalities, yet they still send their children here in hopes of being married to me. If they're shocked, that's on them.”

“What– I honestly can’t deal with you right now. Just go away. I can already feel my blood pressure rise…”

Man what a drag. You’re gonna have to start planning another funeral again. What did she even die from anyways? Probably just by some poison, that seems to be what’s popular nowadays. You started to make your way towards your bedroom so that you could finally relax. When you were by your window outside you noticed that a figure was already in your room. Any normal person would see this and start freaking out but you had a suspicion that you knew who this was. Taking a closer look, your suspicions were deemed correct when you got a clear view of one of your male concubines there. Not only that but they were digging through your dirty laundry. Man this is seriously gross and did they just smell your underwear!!! Man he really needed to touch some grass. Yeah… maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bedroom anyways. Whatever, to the hot springs it is!

With that you started to call a maid over and order her to bring all your bath supplies. The hot springs were in a secluded part of the palace so hopefully no one was around there. With a quick walk you finally reached the area and you patiently waited for the maid to come over and hand you your things.

“Sorry for making you wait, your highness here are all your things. I’ll make sure to tell everyone not to come here so as to not bother you. Enjoy yourself and let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, I will.”

Stepping into the waters, you start to feel your body relax as that hot water begins to hit your body. You began to just sink yourself into it. You love how calming and peaceful this place was. This was soon interrupted when you saw the waters begin to ripple with movement. Rolling your eyes a bit you then look up at a figure. Low and behold it was another concubine. This time however, you remembered his name. You think his name was Atlas… probably but you were certain that he was the prince of a southern boarding nation.

“Your highness, what a coincidence running into you like this. Mind if I have the honors of joining you?” he said with a large smile.

Coincidence my ass but nevertheless you gave him a small nod. His face immediately began to light up as he made his way towards your side. He had the eagerness of a puppy and the speed of a cheetah.

“Your highness, let me rub your back for you!”

He began to rub his hands all over your body eager to not leave one spot untouched. You were honestly so dumbfounded by him but just let him do his thing. Something else that you noticed while he was doing all of this was the fact that he was packing! It took you all your willpower to not look down and just stare at it. You couldn’t help but think and ask yourself in your mind, “was it heavy?” Man you really need to get out of here before your mind turns into the gutter. You were seriously turning into one of your perverted concubines. Before you could say anything and make an excuse to leave he beat you to it.

“When we’re finished, let's go to my side of the palace where we can relax with each other.”

Feeling that you could use a change in scenery you agreed and began to get dressed. As the two of you made your way towards his courtyard you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it was. The place was filled with flowers and many butterflies roamed the area. The both of you sat near a nearby bench and started to make conversation.

“I’m sorry for the lack of entertainment. If I had known that I would be meeting you I would have set something up. I do have some tea that I made this morning and it would be lovely if you could try it!”

With your hum of his approval he quickly made his way inside to go and fetch it. Something that you’ll never understand about your concubines is their constant need for approval from you. You could not imagine why one would be so desperate for praise from someone else. The thought of yourself being like that almost made you laugh. Your thoughts were quickly broken when you heard the sound of someone's footsteps.

“I’m back I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long! Let me pour the tea for you!”

He swiftly grabbed the teapot and poured it into a teacup for you. Then presented you with some biscuits.

“I made this all for you! They probably don’t taste as good as they did this morning but they're still delicious!”

Taking the sip of the tea you noticed that it had a pleasant sugary taste to it. The cookies were also quite delicious. When you finished your snack the two of you continued to make small talk until you started to feel your vision begin to get blurry. You noticed that your body became hard to move and sluggish. God dammit you knew better than to accept food from anybody. Now look at where it got you!

“My love, it seems like the tea is starting to kick in but don’t worry I’ll make sure to take care of you.” he said with a lovesick expression.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #female yandere #gn reader #yandere harem

[exhuastedpigeon]

Eddie's sitting closer to Buck than he's allowed himself since Buck came out - since Buck started dating Tommy. But Buck isn't dating Tommy anymore and Eddie came out to Buck fifteen minutes ago and now they're having conversation so intense that Eddie thinks he might need to go to an emergency therapy session after they're done. So Eddie's sitting closer to Buck than he's allowed himself to in over a month, but it feels too close and not close enough at the same time.

"What am I supposed to say Buck? That I lied when you asked me what I remembered about getting shot? That if I told you what I remembered you'd never be able to look at me the same way?"

"Eddie -" Buck starts, but Eddie cuts him off before he can say more.

"You want to know what I remember about that day? I got shot in the middle of the street on a sunny fucking morning in L.A. and as I was laying on the ground bleeding out I reached for you. I thought I was dying and all I wanted was to touch you one last time. Do you want me to tell you that I was bleeding out and all I could think was that I never told you how much I love you? Because it's true, it's true."

"W-why didn't you tell me after?" Buck sounds as broken as Eddie feels.

"I thought I did," Eddie says and he reaches over the empty space between them but doesn't close the gap. It's only a foot, maybe less, but it feels as wide of a gap as it had felt like while he was bleeding onto the pavement. "I gave you my son Buck. I gave you my heart."

The "oh" that leaves Buck's mouth sounds like a revelation and an accusation all at once. It sounds like 'you didn't tell me' and 'I didn't realize' and 'I wish I'd known sooner'.

But then Buck does close the gap between their hands, just like he had all those years ago while Eddie had lay dying on the street, saved by the same hands that cover Eddie's now. His blood forced to stay in his body with the same fingers that slot through Eddie's now.

Eddie lets out a breath he hadn't realize he was holding and his next inhale feels better than his first breath after leaving that well. It feels like breathing for the first time.

"I'm still in love with you," Eddie tells him, because it's the only thing unsaid between them. It's the only thing left to say.

"Yeah?" Buck's eyes are wet and Eddie realizes his are too.

"Yeah."

"Me too - I-I love you too. I think I have for a really long time actually. I just didn't - didn't realize what that feeling was."

#LISTEN #I'm SO deep in my feelings I can't stop myself #buddie #911 #911 spec #kind of? #911 abc #911 on abc #eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckey x eddie diaz