#...he still feels unsafe leaving the house without it

[rat-rosemary]

C!Sapnap's shirt being lose and old and massive on him because it used to be Dream's shirt

[pascalispimp]

Damp, Dirty, His

Summary: Joel’s been through a lot, but mysteriously damp flannels? That’s a new one. When he sneaks home to investigate, but what he finds is far filthier than he imagined. His housemate’s got a thing for his shirts… and from the way she’s moaning into one, she’s got a thing for him too. And Joel’s got every intention of making it worse.

Warnings: 18+ afab and fem reader, p in v sex, alludes to curvy reader, unspecified age gap, no description of reader but has big boobs and ass, some dubcon but she’s into it, dirty talk, no use of y/n, unsafe sex, oral (m! receiving), fingering, finger sucking, creampie, degradation, praise kink, ass play

Word count: 4.3k

Joel Miller wasn’t a man who jumped to conclusions. He was a man of patience, of careful observation. Years of surviving had drilled that into him. But something wasn’t sitting right.

For the past few weeks, his flannels had been turning up… different. Damp in places they shouldn’t be. Not rain-soaked, not sweat-stained—just wet. He’d pick one up from where he left it, and the fabric would cling to his fingers, the scent of something faint but unmistakable lingering in the fibers. Something warm. Something intimate.

At first, he thought maybe the laundry had been left out too long. Maybe it was just one of those things. But it kept happening. And every time, it was one of his favorites. The ones he wore most. The ones she seemed to watch him in. His housemate.

She wasn’t careless. Wasn’t the type to spill something and not say a word. But Joel had noticed the way she lingered when he pulled on one of those flannels, how her gaze dragged over him, how she hesitated just a little too long when handing one back. He already had a feeling. And today, he was going to confirm it.

So instead of heading out on patrol like he was supposed to, Joel doubled back, moving quiet, careful. The snow crunched beneath his boots, but he knew the sounds of Jackson well enough to weave between them, to slip into his own home without so much as a whisper.

The house was still. The kind of stillness that came with someone who thought they were alone. He gently turned the knob and pushed the door open, the hinges whispering a soft protest. The warmth of the house enveloped him like a lover's embrace. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and his gaze fell upon a sight that made his blood boil with desire and possessiveness.

And the moment he heard it—soft, breathy, a sound that hit him low in his stomach—he knew.

Her.

His flannel—his—draped over her frame, too big, the sleeves bunched around her wrists, the hem riding up as she moved. She was bent over the kitchen table, the flannel riding up to expose her round, bare ass. The shirt was too large for her, but it clung to her in all the right places, revealing her voluptuous figure, hips rolling into her own hand, her face turned into his shirt like it was the only thing tethering her to this moment.

And Christ, if that wasn’t a sight that damn near knocked the air from his lungs.

Joel exhaled through his nose, slow and deep. He should leave. Should turn around, pretend he hadn’t seen a damn thing.

But instead, he stepped closer, the floorboards groaning a little under his heavy boots. She gasped, spinning around with a start, her cheeks flushing a deep red. The flannel was open, and she had been using his shirt to muffle her moans. The sight of her, so vulnerable and caught in the act, only served to fuel his desire. He set the rifle against the wall, his eyes never leaving hers, and strode purposefully across the room.

"That why my flannels keep turnin’ up damp, darlin’?"

"Joel," she stuttered, her voice a mix of shock and arousal. "I-I can explain."

He didn't wait for her excuses. The sight of her flustered and exposed only added to the power he felt surging through him. "I don't want explanations," he said gruffly, his voice a low rumble. "I want to know why you're using my things for... that."

Her eyes widened, the pupils dilating as she took in the look on his face. It was a mix of anger and something else, something darker and more primal. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles flexed under his shirt. Joel was never one to mince words, and his directness only served to turn her on even more.

"I-I just..." she stuttered again, trying to find the words, but they were lost in the thick haze of lust that had settled over the room. The flannel fell open further, revealing her naked chest, her nipples hard with arousal. She reached for it instinctively, but Joel's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and stopping her.

"You like wearing my shirts, huh?" he said, his voice thick with a challenge. "Let's see how you like the real thing."

With that, Joel closed the distance between them, pulling the flannel from her body. She didn't resist, instead letting out a shaky breath as his calloused hands grazed her bare skin. He tossed the fabric aside, his gaze raking over her nakedness. The sight of her made him want to conquer and claim, to show her who was in charge here.

He grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer until their lips almost touched. "You're playing with fire, darling," he murmured, his voice a warning and a promise. He felt her pulse racing under his fingers, her body trembling with anticipation.

Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, but Joel knew he'd already won. She was his for the taking, and she knew it. With a smirk that barely touched his lips, he claimed her mouth with a bruising kiss. His tongue pushed past her teeth, tasting the sweetness of her mouth as his hands roamed over her curves, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She moaned into the kiss, her body melting into his, and he knew he had her.

Breaking away, Joel stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. "On your knees," he ordered, his voice low and demanding. She obeyed without hesitation, the submissive side of her bubbling to the surface, eager to please the dominant man before her. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His erection sprang free, thick and proud, pointing straight at her plump, parted lips.

"Open," he said, and she did, her eyes never leaving his. He took a fistful of her hair, guiding his length into her mouth. She gagged slightly, but took him deeper, her eyes watering with the effort. Joel's hand tightened in her hair, controlling her movements as he began to fuck her face. He watched with a mix of pleasure and possession as she struggled to keep up with his rhythm, her cheeks hollowing with each thrust.

He could feel her submission, the way she eagerly took him in, and it only made him harder. "You like that?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. She nodded, unable to speak around his cock, and he chuckled darkly. "Good girl." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, the gesture oddly tender amidst the aggression.

Joel pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her saliva. "You've been a bad girl, using my things," he said, his voice a teasing purr. "But I'm going to show you how to use them properly." He stepped back, grabbing a chair from the nearby table and spinning it around. He sat down, his erection still standing proud, and gestured for her to straddle him.

With trembling legs, she obeyed, her pussy wet and aching as she settled over his lap. He reached between them, stroking her clit with a rough thumb before plunging two fingers into her heat. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pump them in and out, his eyes never leaving hers. The way he touched her, so rough and yet so precise, made her feel alive, like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and only he could save her from the fall.

"Beg for it," he demanded, his voice a dark whisper that sent shivers down her spine. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to give in, but the pleasure was too much. "Please, Joel," she whimpered, her voice barely a breath. "Fuck me."

The words hung in the air, heavy with need, and Joel's control snapped like a twig under a boot. He yanked her onto his lap, the chair groaning under their combined weight. He positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance, feeling her wetness and heat against his skin. With a single, powerful thrust, he buried himself inside her, making her cry out.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body tightening around him like a vice. Joel's eyes rolled back in his head as he savored the sensation of her warmth. He began to move, his hips rocking into hers, each thrust punctuated by a guttural grunt. She met him stroke for stroke, her breasts bouncing with the rhythm, the friction sending waves of pleasure crashing through her body.

He leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered filthy words, degrading her in the most delicious way. "That's it, take it," he growled, his breath hot against her skin. "You're such a slut for me, aren't you?" She whimpered, her body responding to his words, her walls clenching around him. He liked it when she played the brat, but now she was all his, all submission.

He could feel her climbing closer to the edge, her breaths coming in ragged pants. He reached up, grabbing one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The pinch sent a bolt of pleasure through her, making her moan around his cock. He smirked, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

Joel's other hand slid down to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze before his fingers delved between her cheeks. She gasped as he found her tight hole, teasing it with a single digit. "You're mine," he murmured, pushing into her untouched entrance. "All of you."

The sudden intrusion made her jolt, her eyes flying open. But instead of pulling away, she pushed back into his hand, eager for more. He chuckled darkly, his grip on her hip tightening as he began to fuck her with his finger, the dual sensation making her pussy clench around his cock. "So greedy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're going to take everything I give you, aren't you?"

Her only response was a muffled moan, her voice lost in the fabric of his shirt. Joel could feel her orgasm building, her walls fluttering around him like a caged bird desperate to fly. He leaned back, watching her face contort with pleasure, his own climax approaching like a storm on the horizon. His strokes grew faster, his hips snapping into her with a ferocity that left them both gasping for air.

He withdrew his finger from her ass, reaching around to pinch her clit as he fucked her harder. She bucked wildly, her nails raking down his back as the first wave of her climax washed over her. He felt her pussy clench, her juices flooding his cock as she screamed into the fabric of his shirt. The sound sent him over the edge, and with a roar, he emptied himself inside her, filling her to the brim.

Her orgasm was a symphony of sounds, her moans and gasps echoing through the small house. Joel held her hips firmly, ensuring she took every last inch of his release. He watched as she rode the peak of pleasure, her body shaking with the intensity of it all. When she finally collapsed against him, panting and sated, he couldn't help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction.

He kissed her neck, his breath warm and ragged against her skin. "You're mine now," he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness. "And you're going to wear my cum as a reminder." He felt her shiver in his arms, the dirty talk only serving to excite her further.

Joel's thumb continued to circle her clit lazily, keeping her on the edge. "You liked that, didn't you?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "You liked being caught, didn't you?" She nodded, unable to form words, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure.

He pulled out of her with a wet sound, the head of his cock glistening with their combined juices. He stood, lifting her off his lap, and spun her around to face the kitchen counter. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice still commanding. She complied, her knees wobbly from the intense orgasm.

The cool countertop sent a shiver up her spine, and she gripped the edge, her knuckles white with the effort. Joel stepped behind her, his eyes feasting on her reddened, swollen pussy. He grabbed her hips, positioning himself again. With one swift movement, he plunged back into her, making her gasp. He was still hard, still insatiable. He began to fuck her from behind, his thrusts deep and powerful, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room.

Her breasts bounced with each impact, the painful pleasure sending her spiraling back towards the edge. She could feel his grip tighten, his hands leaving bruises on her hips, and she loved it. He was claiming her, marking her as his own, and she reveled in the feeling of submission. She pushed back into him, taking him deeper, her walls clenching around his length.

"You want more?" he growled, his hand reaching around to pinch her clit again. She moaned, the sensation too much, too intense. He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing her ear. "That's my girl." He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into her, the suddenness of it making her cry out.

The kitchen counter was slick with their sweat and desire, their bodies moving in a dance of passion and dominance. Joel's hand reached up, wrapping around her neck, his thumb pressing lightly against her throat. The subtle hint of control sent a thrill through her, making her pussy clench around him. She pushed back, eager for the pain, for the feeling of him owning her completely.

He groaned, his hips pistoning into her with renewed vigor. The angle was perfect, hitting her g-spot with every thrust. She could feel another orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces. "Beg for it," he whispered, his breath hot against her neck. "Tell me you want it, tell me you need it."

Her voice was a desperate whine as she pleaded, "Please, Joel, please let me cum again." He tightened his grip, his thumb pressing slightly harder on her clit. "Not until I say so," he said, his voice a dark command. She whimpered, her body writhing under his control. He knew exactly how to play her, how to tease and taunt until she was begging for release.

He slowed his pace, drawing out each thrust, savoring the feel of her tightness around him. The anticipation was intoxicating, a sweet torment that made his balls ache with need. He watched in the flickering candlelight as her ass cheeks clenched with each movement, her pussy gripping his cock like a vice. The room was a cacophony of their harsh breaths and the wet sounds of their bodies colliding.

"Please," she moaned, her voice desperate. "I need it."

Joel's hand slid from her throat to her clit, his thumb circling it with the perfect amount of pressure. "You're going to come for me," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "But not yet." He watched her body tense, her muscles tightening around him, desperate for release. The power was intoxicating, the way she trembled under his touch.

He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back. "You're going to take it all," he breathed into her ear, his voice a seductive growl. "Every inch of me, until I say you can come." She whimpered, her head dropping forward as she tried to push back against him, her hips moving in a silent plea for more.

The room was a blur of sensation, the smell of sex and sweat mixing with the faint scent of burning wood from the fireplace. The candles cast shadows across their bodies, flickering with each thrust. Joel's hand slid down to her ass, his fingers tracing the line between her cheeks before pushing into her again. The feeling of fullness was almost too much, but she craved it, her body begging for the painful pleasure that only he could provide.

"You're so fucking tight," he murmured, his voice strained with his own climax approaching. "I'm going to fill you up until you can't take anymore."

Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she felt his thumb push past the tight ring of muscle, invading her ass. The pain was sharp, but it only served to heighten the pleasure. She was lost in a whirlwind of sensations, her body no longer her own as he controlled her every movement. Joel's other hand wrapped around her hip, guiding her to move back onto him, her pussy clenching around his shaft as he pushed deeper into her.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice harsh. She opened her eyes, her vision swimming with lust. Their gazes locked, the intensity of his stare piercing through the fog of pleasure. "You're going to come for me," he said, his thumb moving in time with his cock, pushing her closer and closer to the precipice. "Now."

Her body obeyed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She screamed his name, her nails digging into the wood as she came apart in his arms. Joel's own climax followed swiftly, his cock pulsing inside her as he filled her up with his seed. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself completely.

For a moment, they remained like that, panting and spent. Then Joel pulled out, his cock slipping from her with a wet sound that made her shiver. He stepped back, watching her with hooded eyes as she slowly straightened, her legs shaking. He reached out, tracing the line of her jaw with his thumb, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his hand.

"You're mine now," he said, his voice low and possessive. "Every inch of you." She nodded, her cheeks still flushed, her breaths coming in shallow pants. "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me you're mine."

Her eyes searched his, a mix of shock and awe at the intensity of what had just transpired. "I'm... I'm yours," she finally managed to whisper, the words thick with desire. He leaned in, his mouth claiming hers in a brutal kiss, his tongue demanding entry. She melted into him, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax.

Breaking the kiss, Joel grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "And don't you ever forget it," he warned, his voice a low rumble. "You wear my shirts, you take my cum. You're going to be walking around with a constant reminder of who's in charge." He smirked, watching the way her pupils dilated at his words.

Withdrawing his cock from her, Joel reached down, his thumb sliding through their mixed juices, and then back to her pussy. He pushed two fingers inside her, her walls still spasming from the aftershocks of her orgasm. She whimpered, the sensation overwhelmingly intense. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made her knees buckle, and began to pump his cum back into her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body jolting with each thrust of his digits.

"Look at me," he ordered again, his voice a gravelly whisper. She forced her eyes open, meeting his fiery gaze. "You're going to wear this," he said, pulling his fingers out and holding them up, glistening with their combined release. "Every drop." He brought his hand to her mouth, and she obeyed without question, licking and sucking her taste from his skin. He watched with a dark satisfaction as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving his.

With a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, Joel leaned in, his breath hot against her cheek. "Now, tell me how much you liked being caught," he said, his voice a sinful purr. She blushed, but the brat in her couldn't resist a little sass. "I liked it," she admitted, her voice a mix of defiance and arousal. "But maybe next time, you could be a bit more... creative with your punishments."

Joel's eyebrow shot up, and he stepped back, his cock still semi-hard and glistening. "Is that a challenge, darling?" He grabbed the flannel she'd been wearing earlier, now discarded on the floor, and wrapped it around her trembling body. "Because I've got plenty of creative ways to keep you in line."

Her heart skipped a beat at the promise in his words. "Maybe," she replied with a smirk, her voice still breathless from her recent climax. "But I'm not promising to be good."

Joel chuckled darkly. "That's what makes it fun," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. He pulled her closer, his cock brushing against her stomach. She could feel it thickening again, a testament to his insatiable desire. "But for now," he murmured, "we should clean up before I have to be back out on patrol."

The water was cold when Joel turned on the faucet, but it did nothing to cool the heat that still lingered between them. He grabbed a cloth, soaking it before gently cleaning her up. The tender act was a stark contrast to the raw passion they'd just shared, and she found herself leaning into his touch, craving the comfort he offered. When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.

He laid her down on the bed, his eyes raking over her naked body. He was still dressed, a stark reminder of the power dynamic they'd just established. "You're going to be the death of me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. She couldn't help but giggle, the sound light and airy in the tension-filled room.

The bed dipped as he climbed onto it, his weight pressing down on the mattress. He hovered over her, his hand sliding up her thigh, his thumb brushing against her still-sensitive clit. She gasped, her body reacting instantly. He chuckled, the sound dark and seductive. "I can see you're eager for more," he said, his voice a tease.

He leaned down, his mouth capturing hers in a kiss that was both punishing and gentle. His tongue danced with hers, tasting the lingering flavor of their passion. When he pulled away, she was left panting, her eyes glazed with lust. "But I've got patrol," he murmured against her skin, his lips moving to her neck. He bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make her moan. "You're going to have to wait for it."

Her hands found his shoulders, her nails digging in as she tried to pull him closer. "Please, Joel," she begged, her voice needy and desperate. He chuckled, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "You're insatiable." He kissed her again, his hand sliding down to cup her breast, his thumb teasing the nipple until it was a hard peak. "But I like that about you."

With a final groan of protest, Joel rolled off the bed, his cock still semi-erect. "I'll be back," he said, his voice a promise. "And when I do, you'd better be ready for me." He strode to the bathroom, the muscles in his back flexing with each step. She watched him go, her body still trembling from the aftermath of their encounter.

The cold water from the sink brought Joel back to reality, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of his desire. He washed his hands, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He couldn't believe he'd just taken her like that, in the kitchen of all places. But the sight of her in his flannel, her face flushed with arousal, had driven him over the edge.

Wiping his hands on the towel, he returned to the bedroom, his eyes devouring her again. She lay there, a mess of tangled limbs and desire, the flannel barely covering her curves. He couldn't resist leaning down to kiss her, his hand caressing her cheek. "I'll be back soon," he whispered, his voice hoarse. She nodded, her eyes still glazed with passion.

Joel pulled on his patrol gear, his mind racing with thoughts of her. The way she'd looked at him, the way she'd taken him, it was all he could think about. He had to get out there, had to focus on the job at hand, but she was a siren's call he couldn't ignore.

He stepped out into the cold night, the chill air slapping him in the face, a stark contrast to the heat they'd generated in the kitchen. The patrol was quiet, his mind wandering back to her, to the way her body had responded to his every touch. He found himself smiling, a rare occurrence in this post-apocalyptic world.

Hours ticked by, the moon casting eerie shadows across the deserted town. Joel's thoughts remained fixated on her, his cock twitching at the memory of her moans and whimpers. He'd never felt such a potent mix of lust and tenderness before, and it unnerved him.

When Joel finally returned home, the house was quiet, the only sound the crackling of the dying embers in the fireplace. He shed his gear, stripping down to nothing but his skin, his cock already hard with anticipation. As he padded silently towards the bedroom, his eyes fell on her, sprawled out on the bed, her chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, but Joel knew the fire that burned within her, the desire that she kept hidden.

With a smirk playing on his lips, he stepped into the room, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open to find him standing over her, naked and gleaming with sweat. He leaned down, his hand trailing up her thigh, his breath hot against her ear. "Are you ready for more, darlin'?" he whispered, his voice a dark promise.

[afterheese]

The Prefect Match - Yang Jungwon x f!reader

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes. His hand is on your throat.

cw: dark!jungwon, noncon,hair pulling, degradation, creampie, babytrapping and physical violence.

word count : 3.5k

You knew it was the right decision.

Ending things with Jungwon wasn’t just overdue, it was needed. The relationship had rotted from the inside out, twisted into something dark and suffocating. You’d spent too much time walking on eggshells and flinching at every raised voice or hand. So you left.

But ever since the breakup, something in the air felt wrong.

He didn’t take it well—not at all. The calls kept coming. At first, it was pleading. Sweet, pathetic apologies dripped in fakeness. But they didn’t stay sweet for long. They turned sharp and accusing. His voice would swing from soft regret to explosive rage in a single breath. As if the breakup wasn’t real. Like you were throwing a tantrum.

Now your phone buzzes at strange hours—2:17 a.m., 4:03, 5:12 always from unknown numbers. No voice, no noise just silence. You’ve started checking your locks more than once. Then again. Then again. You keep the blinds shut even when the sun is out, because the idea of light feels unsafe now. Too visible. Because Jungwon doesn’t lose. And he doesn't listen when you say no. He doesn’t rage. He doesn't scream. He waits. He smiles. Control isn’t something he wants. It’s something he assumes he already has. You don’t know it now, but you’ll soon realize that leaving him was the worst mistake you could’ve made. 

“Girl, relax—he’s not here,” she says, not even looking at you. Her voice is flat, tired, like you’re annoying her with your nonsense. “Stop being so paranoid. I heard he’s got a new girlfriend or something, so… he’s over you.”

You blink at her, fork halfway to your mouth. She's probably right. Everyone keeps saying the same thing, and you’re starting to feel like the one who is being crazy. But the incidents around the house was telling you otherwise like the window in your bedroom was open yesterday morning. Just a crack. You remember closing it. You always do. You even double checked it after brushing your teeth. But there it was, gaping like a mouth in the wall, letting the cold in.

Then there was the necklace. You found it in the laundry room. You haven’t worn it in weeks. You’d swear you left it on your dresser. “You don’t think that’s weird?” you ask, quieter than you meant to. “That my stuff keeps moving around?” Kailey shrugs. “You probably just forgot. You’ve been super stressed lately. Your brain’s probably just... I don’t know. Filling in blanks.” Her smile is small, pitying. It makes you feel like a child so you nod, even though your stomach twists. Because how do you argue with someone who makes your fear sound like fiction?

Everyone you’ve talked to says the same thing. You’re imagining it. You’re spiraling. Maybe talk to someone. No one listens to what you’re actually saying. They just want you to stop talking. And the more you try to explain, the more ridiculous you sound. Like some clingy ex who can’t move on. Like you’re obsessed with someone who isn't even thinking about you. 

 You smile. You laugh when Kailey makes a joke about “getting you a security system and a therapist.” Maybe they’re right. Maybe your memory is just playing tricks on you. Maybe the cold air, the lost things, the tapping you heard last night…maybe it’s all just in your head. But if that’s true… why does it still feel like someone’s watching you? 

“Okay, call me when you get home, alright?” Kailey says, pulling you into a quick hug. “And don’t worry about Jungwon. You’re fine. Seriously. He wasn’t good for you, and breaking up with him was the smartest thing you’ve done.” She squeezes your arm before turning away, heading toward her car without waiting for a reply. The door slams, the engine hums to life, and just like that, she’s gone—leaving you alone on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. You stand there for a moment, watching her taillights fade into the distance. The street feels too quiet now, like someone turned the volume down on the world. “I hope you’re right,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, then turn and begin the walk toward home. 

The sidewalk stretches ahead of you, slick from earlier rain. Your shoes tap softly against the pavement, a steady rhythm you try to focus on. Left foot, right foot. Just a walk home. Just like every other night. But now Kailey's voice is gone, and without it, the air feels too thin. A streetlight flickers as you pass underneath it, buzzing once like it’s annoyed by your presence. You glance up out of habit. It dies for a moment, then flares back to life, casting your shadow behind you. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, shoulders hunching as you turn down your street. The houses here are dark, windows glowing faintly blue with TV light or not at all. You tell yourself it’s just late. People are asleep inside. 

But your stomach won’t stop tightening. That pressure behind your ribs again—like something’s watching you. Like something’s a few steps too close. You stop walking to listen. Behind you… nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just wind rustling the trees and the faint hum of traffic blocks away. You glance over your shoulder. Empty street. You hate how fast your heart is beating. You keep walking. Faster now. You don’t want to look again. If no one’s there, you’ll feel stupid. If someone is—No, don't go there. You stop again, one foot hesitating mid-step. You turn slowly and look behind you. Still no one there. But the streetlight—It’s off now. Completely dark.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your limbs tense before you can even think. And then—You run.

You don’t think about how it looks. You don’t care. You take off, shoes slapping the pavement, your bag bouncing hard against your hip. You just run.

Your house comes into view—porch light glowing weakly like it’s trying, but not enough. You fumble for your keys as you hit the steps. You nearly drop them. Your fingers are shaking too much and the sweat making it difficult to hold them. You glance behind you. Nothing. Still. But you don’t believe it. You shove the key in, not it. Try again. Shit not it. Curse under your breath. You keep looking over your shoulder like you're expecting to see someone step out of the dark. Click. The key finally turns. You throw the door open, stumble inside, and slam it shut behind you. You turn the lock. The deadbolt and the chain. Then you press your back to the door, eyes closed, chest heaving. 

You stay with your back pressed to the door, listening for something—anything. Maybe the wind. Maybe footsteps that were never there. Maybe it was just your heart that was punching the inside of your ribs. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Then you heard a thud. A soft, unmistakable sound, like something falling. Not from the kitchen or the living room. It was from your bedroom.

Your body goes cold. You strain your ears, willing for the sound to be nothing. A book slipping off your bed. Something you left too close to the edge. Just gravity. Just the house settling. But you know what you heard. You know exactly where it came from.

Your room. Down the hall. Door slightly open—just as you left it.

You step forward. Slowly. Like your feet don’t belong to you anymore. Your fingers brush against the wall as you move, needing the feel of something solid. You pause at your door. Another noise—a shift. The creak of the mattress springs.

You don’t want to look. Every nerve screams at you not to. But you push the door open anyway. And there he is.

Jungwon.

Sitting on your bed like he never left. He’s leaned back against your pillows, one arm stretched casually along the headboard, the other resting on his knee. Legs spread comfortably, like he owns the room. Like you’re the intruder. “Well,” he says, voice smooth, almost lazy, “you made it farther than I expected. Honestly, I thought you'd fold after the second time you found the window open.” His gaze skims over you—your posture, your silence, your fear.

“You really thought locking doors and whispering to Kailey would make a difference?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Cute.” Then he exhales, almost like a yawn, and shifts his weight to the side of your bed. “But playtime’s over now.” He looks you straight in the eye, the smile gone. “Time to come back to me. This little game was fun... but I’m getting bored.”

He pats the bed beside him—slow, twice.

“Don’t make me chase you again.”

You looked at him like he’d just sprouted horns. “Jungwon… what the fuck is wrong with you?” Your voice cracks from the force of it. Your hands are shaking. You don’t care.

“Get the hell out of my house!” you scream, louder this time. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.

“Babe,” Jungwon said, his voice calm and patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “Stop yelling. It’s embarrassing.” 

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” You reach into your bag, fingers brushing your phone, eyes locked on him like you're defusing a bomb. Your heart racing. But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes.

His hand is on your throat.

“Now why would you do that, huh, babe?” he breathes, his face inches from yours, his breath hot on your face. “I missed you. And I know you missed me.”

His fingers tighten. You choke, your nails clawing at his wrist. Your vision flickers.

“Stop struggling and just accept it, babe. I’m here now. We’re done playing—”

You swing your knee up, fast, hard, straight into his groin.

He makes a sound—half-growl, half-scream—and doubles over, crashing to the floor.

You stumble back, gasping, clutching your throat, then bolt down the hall. You don’t look behind you. You know what’s coming. You hit the living room. The space feels too small—too many corners, too many shadows, and nowhere to hide. Your feet pound the floor as you race toward the kitchen, lungs burning.

But then—His hand. It misses you by less than an inch. 

You throw yourself into the kitchen and lunge for the drawer. The knife. The drawer sticks. You yank. Too slow. His hand grabs your hair—hard—and you feel your head jerk back, your scalp screaming as he slams you forward. Your temple hits the counter edge with a sickening crack. The world wavers. You dropped to the floor.

He’s pacing now, breathing hard, muttering. Mindless. Mechanical. Like a record skipping on loop.

“You were made for me,” he hisses, voice barely above a whisper but trembling with rage. “Don’t you get it? You don’t exist without me. I built you.

He slams the drawer shut with his foot—BANG—and the sound explodes through the kitchen. You flinch instinctively, shoulder curling inward. He laughs under his breath.

“No one else will touch you. Not after this. You think someone’s gonna want you after I’m done with you?” He gestures to you like you were trash. “They’ll see right through you, babe.”

He steps over your legs like they’re part of the floor, starts pacing in front of the fridge, cracking his knuckles, dragging his hand through his hair, muttering. His eyes are wild—glassy and glowing with something sick.

“You keep pretending you’re scared. But you’re not. Not really,” he says, smiling now, voice dipping into something slower, darker. “You like it when I get like this. You made those sounds for me, remember? The begging, the whimpering... the way you said my name when you couldn’t take it anymore.”

He crouches suddenly, right in front of you, and grabs your jaw—tight, fingers pressing into your cheeks.

“You remember that, don’t you?”

You try to pull away. He doesn’t let go.

“I own you. Every noise you make, every breath you take—that’s mine. You don’t get to run anymore. You had your little tantrum. Now?” His voice softens like silk. He stands again, towering above you, breath heaving, arms loose at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or kill you.

“Now you don't get to leave.”

“Please… just stop,” you whispered, voice raw, tears streaking your cheeks as your back pressed against the cold wooden kitchen counter. “You’ve had your fun.”

Jungwon didn’t flinch. He only tilted his head, eyes drinking in your trembling frame like it was art he couldn’t look away from.

“God,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice low and dark with something you couldn’t name. “You’re so damn pretty when you cry.”

You turned your face away, breath hitching.

Jungwon's hand shot out, fingers tangling harshly in your hair. He fisted it tight, yanking your head back to force you to meet his intense gaze. The sudden, painful grip made you gasp, tears flying from your eyes as he wrenched you off your feet. Your knees scraped against the hardwood floor, sending jolts of stinging pain up your legs, but he showed no mercy.

"You don’t get to turn away from me," he growled, voice dripping with venom. 

Jungwon slammed you down onto the cold, unforgiving surface of the kitchen counter, the breath whooshing out of your lungs at the impact. Before you could catch your breath, he had you by the hair again, bending you over the edge of the counter roughly. You felt the chill of the granite against your skin as he forced you to arch your back. "Look at you," Jungwon snarled in your ear, his voice a low, feral rumble. "What a sweet, trembling mess you are. You can't deny how much you fucking love this, can you? How much you've missed having me inside you, ruining you?"

He punctuated his words by grinding his hard, clothed erection against the curve of your ass. You could feel every thick inch of him, a whimper escaped your throat, equal parts fear and shameful, traitorous arousal.

"This is what you do to me," Jungwon growled, giving your ass a sharp smack. "This is the effect you have on me, you fucking tease. I've been thinking about this pussy, about burying myself in you."

He tore the delicate fabric of your panties without hesitation, the rip sharp in the silence. The ruined lace discarded, leaving you bare and shivering as the cold air kissed your exposed skin. His touch followed—fingers finding your slick heat, dragging through your folds with a rough, unrelenting rhythm that stole the breath from your lungs. 

"You don't get to say shit," he hissed, "You don't get to deny me anymore. I'm going to take what's mine, over and over again until you're dripping with my cum."

You heard the frantic tug of his zipper, the hiss of fabric shoved down in haste—he was struggling, almost clumsy in his desperation. He couldn’t wait. The need to be inside you was written in every rushed movement, every uneven breath. Your mind was fogged, flooded with heat, and the sound of him losing control just made it worse. 

Jungwon's hips surged forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your core in one brutal thrust. A scream tore from your throat at the sudden, intense intrusion, your walls clenching desperately around his invading length. He didn't give you any time to adjust, immediately setting a hard, punishing pace as he bent over you from behind.

His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the thundering of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back as he loomed over you. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you completely.

"Fuck," Jungwon grunted, his voice strained with lust and dark satisfaction. “You can hate me all you want. Doesn’t change how perfectly I fit in you.”

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rutted into you. The other snaked up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse jump and race. Your vision swam, head spinning as he fucked you with brutal intensity, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen.

“Beg all you want. I know exactly what you need.” Jungwon growled, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. “By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be nothing left.” 

His fingers tightened around your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.  “You’re going to carry a reminder of me, one way or another.”

A surge of pure panic shot through you at Jungwon's dark promise. Your heart raced, pounding wildly against your ribs as his fingers tightened around your throat, restricting your airflow. You tried to shake your head.

"No," you gasped out, voice barely a whisper. "Please, Jungwon, don't. Pull out, please..."

But even as the words left your lips, you knew it was futile. Jungwon was beyond reason, beyond caring about your pleas and fears. He was driven by a singular, obsessive desire to claim and conquer.

Ignoring your desperate entreaty, he was fucking into you with brutal, animalistic intensity. The kitchen filled with the vulgar sounds of your coupling - the slap of skin on skin, your strangled cries, his grunts and growls of pleasure.

"Fuck, I can feel it," Jungwon snarled, his voice tight with impending release. “You feel that? The way you pull me in like you were made for this? Like your body already knows it belongs to me.” 

He punctuated his words with a harsh thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You felt his cock jerk and pulse, growing even harder, impossibly bigger. Your eyes widened in terror and a sickening mix of reluctant arousal.

"Please," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "Please, don't cum inside me. I don't want to..."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears. With a guttural roar, Jungwon slammed into you one last time, grinding his pelvis against your ass as his cock erupted. You could feel the hot, thick spurts of his release painting your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his cum.

"Take it," he commanded harshly, holding you in place as he emptied himself inside you. "Take every last drop.”

You shuddered and sobbed as you felt his cum filling you up, your body instinctively clenching and milking his pulsing cock. The sheer depravity of it, the utter lack of control, sent a confusing surge of dark pleasure through you.

As Jungwon finally pulled out, you could feel his release leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs.

You couldn’t move so you remained bent over the kitchen counter, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Tears streamed down your face, dripping onto the cold granite surface below. Your body ached, used and abused in the most intimate way possible. The sticky evidence of his release trickled down your thighs, a sickening reminder of your defilement.

Behind you, Jungwon was already fixing his pants, tucking his spent cock away and smoothing down his shirt. He acted as if he hadn't just violated you, just taken something from you that you hadn't willingly given. As if this was an everyday occurrence, a simple transaction.

"Shut up," he barked harshly, silencing your muffled sobs and whimpers. “Did you really think someone would come running if you cried loud enough?”

You flinched at the biting words, then he was bending over you again, looming large and menacing. His hand came up, cupping the back of your head almost gently. For a moment, you thought he might caress you, soothe you. But then his fingers tightened, gripping your hair almost painfully as he wrenched your head to the side to force you to meet his gaze.

"You'll never be clean again," Jungwon whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Not after this. Not after me."

His eyes bored into yours, gleaming with a manic, possessive light. Before you could look away, his mouth was on you, his lips brushing against your forehead in a mockery of a tender kiss. A promise of something far darker.

And he was right, no matter how far you ran, how high you built your walls, or how many times you tried to cut him out—Jungwon always found a way back in. Like smoke slipping through the cracks, like a shadow that knew your every hiding spot. It didn’t matter how fiercely you tried to protect yourself. He would always find you, you knew the truth: you would never be safe from him. Not really. Not ever. 

[spookypete-94]

Pregnant by Proxy

SimonRileyxPregnant!Reader

Have had this idea in my head for many, many months. Finally just decided to do it- even if it seems strange to some.

Triggers for medical inaccuracies, language, minor angst, still born mentioned

What triggered it all is you not showing up. Being Laswell’s right hand while she was Watcher, given you the opportunity to assist Task Force 141 on multiple missions. So much, they considered you a part of their team.

Here instead, Simon Riley stood back watching you from afar. He had hunted you down and located you in your hometown. Something he was never ever supposed to do. There was a no contact rule for them outside of their work. Price enforced it for safety reasons. But Simon just couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or what had happened. That was unsafe for him. He needed to see you, needed to make sure you were alright.

“I can’t tell you much, just that she will not be attending this mission.” Laswell spoke from the computer screen during their video call meant to be a mission brief for the 4 of them.

“She ok at least?” Price asked, looking up over the stack of papers in his hands up at the camera.

You had made your mark on all of them… but maybe not as dark or inflicted as you had on Simon.

“Medical emergency back at home. I know you guys are worried about her, but I really can’t disclose anymore.” Laswell’s voice firmer, protecting you.  “She deserves privacy and her time off.” Something you had earned away from them.

Simon couldn’t help but pipe up. “When will she be back?” You are an asset to this team, as much to his spirit.

A heavy sigh from Laswell, “We need to focus on the task ahead.” She was putting up a wall. How dare you leave without relaying some sort of word to him…

What had happened to you?

That was the moment Simon knew he needed to find you. You were at risk, something had happened. Did you get sent somewhere without him and hurt? Are you bruised and bloody? Had someone laid hands on you? Dangerous as you were… Simon couldn’t help feeling that you were fragile. He had seen you in the most intimate of ways on more than one occasion. Perhaps that had changed his perception of the clarity of body. Fragile like clay figurine, porous and breakable. Skin smooth, even though littered with scars in places. Special, is the way to describe you to him. You understood him. An extension of his peace.

So, he finished the mission. Angrier than he had ever been at the end of one. Days drawn out, even though it only took them a week to find their target and take him into custody. It was a success, a record in apprehending someone capable of such violence. Little did the Task Force know, Ghost’s unbridled rage of procrastinating the ability to find you, the result of such a feat.

Price knew something was up when Ghost had turned down the interrogation of the suspect. This was his forte. One of his best qualities of finding intel was beating a man into submission. Glancing with a side eye filled with suspicion, Price then closed it. Halfway knowing what Ghost was up to, the fact that Simon now needed this. He needed to know you were alive.

There were a few times you would tell him stories of your hometown and family after you would connect and lay naked together. He enjoyed it. It distracted his mind while his brain would close his eyes and imagine it. Never once did you tell him where you from or the name of the town… but he had seen it so many times in his mind’s eye, he had just an inkling of where it was hidden.

Imagine his surprise when had finally found you outside your favorite coffee house. A small coffee in your hand… and a swollen belly round in front of you as you slowly waddled away from him. He had stood back near the corner about 3 buildings away from you, following you ever so slowly.

Shock had filled his system. He could walk away now… in fact he fully wanted to bolt and sprint in a different direction. He knew you were safe, alive and clearly thriving… but he had more questions now then when he did about your absence.

Feeling like you were being watched made you turn around. Eyes instantly locked on the black shadow that was following you.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice called to him, filled with confusion and happiness.

“Wanted to see you…” Was all he could mumble out as he approached.

Awkwardly you tried hard to lurch to him, hard to do so when your counterbalance was way off.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” a rushed hiss to him, as you tried to lay your head into his chest. It was difficult with how round you were, the babe pressing you away.

His finger guided under your chin, lifting it up so he could see your eyes. Tears welled in them that he brushed back with a thumb. Fucking hormones.

“Missed you,” you repeated. Somehow even through all your emotions, the glow on you was so strong and intense. How beautiful.

Simon remained quiet, while he tried to decide how far along you were. The time frame… seemed possible, but he wasn’t entirely sure. The time away from you seemed so much longer. He wanted to ask, he needed to know this now. Sure, he wanted to run at the same time, but you were important to him. This was important to him.

“Is it mine?” He asked his palm spreading over the circumference.

You stood there unable to speak. It was such a long story. Words hindered, closed off. Instead, you shook your head with a slow no. Regret written all over your face.

Instantly, the rage returned to him. Of course he wasn’t good enough for you. That’s why you left. That’s why everyone eventually does. How dare you be so important to him….

Turning on heel, he pushed past the crowd of people nearby trying to get away from you. Anger blinding him, deafening your calling out.

“Simon!! Wait!! She’s not mine either!!” Trying your hardest to run after him.

What?

He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to turn to look at you yet. The same tears that had stung yours now been transferred to his. Had he really wanted this with someone so bad before?

Your hand pressed into his back letting him know you were still there.

“She’s my sisters… it’s a really long fucked up story, but she is my sister’s.”

Abstract. This whole thing was completely abstract and fucking strange. You were being a surrogate to it all.

“What?” Simon said again, finally turning around, his head looking to the side, still not fully able to look at you yet. He needed clarification, needed to comprehend you hadn’t betrayed him.

“I went on leave because my sister was pregnant and went into labor at about eight and half months…but something had happened. She got this blood infection in her uterus causing a still birth. And when it did, it made things happen to her reproductive organs so she would never be able to carry a baby again…They had to take it all out.” A heavy breath left you, as you started to explain, a shake he could hear in your voice, one that and couldn’t ignore.

He turned back around, finally able to look at you again. To you, it was like the break of dawn and the sun greeting the Earth for the first time. He was listening to you. This whole time you were fearful of losing him… but here he was standing before you. Shining like the sun every morning, a wordless pact.

“My sister… she lost her baby and I saw what it did to her. This is all she has ever wanted was to be a mother, and her chance has been taken from her. So, when the doctor said they had saved some of her eggs…I knew I had to do this for her.” Taking his hand, you placed it back on your belly, sprawling his long fingers over it. “This baby isn’t yours… and she isn’t mine. That doesn’t make her any less important though. Just know I had to do this for her.”

His hand was warm. Radiating warmth into you. It gave so much into you, like you had just spewed out back to him.

Did he doubt you?

“I was on my way to an appointment. Why don’t you come with me and maybe that will help you understand.”

A compromise. Let me make this right.

Sliding his hand across your belly, over to your hand he took it and gripped it, squeezing once in awhile. His quiet assurance. So, you led the way. The sail to his boat, teaching and guiding him.

The room was white. White bed, white paper covering it. White walls. White Floor. So much white it hurt for him to look at. Carefully, he stood next to you, letting you climb on the bed to lay down.

“Where is your sister?” A valid question. He would think if this was her baby, she would want to know details, right?

“Work. I think it still hurts her to come sometimes… She has come to a few in the very beginning, but as it gets closer it scares her.”

A valid response.

“You been coming by yourself?”

A slight shrug of your shoulders. “I have…” That hurt him to know you were doing a majority of this alone.

“How did you…?” He said looking down and looking back up at you.

“Conceive?” Unsure if that was what he was asking or not. “Artificial. They planted the embryo after it was fertilized."

Oh, thank God. The relief written on his face makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry. No one else has been inside me in that way. I would never let anyone, let alone my brother-in-law.” Still chuckling.

“Better not.” The only words he could say in his embarrassment of thinking so.

In walked the doctor, who looked over at the mountain of a man.

“Well, hello. Is his him then?” She pointed to him and looked back at you.

“It is.” A smile radiating back at her, truly at your happiest.

The doctor glanced back over at him. “She has talked about you quite a bit and how much she wished you could be here. It’s hard, what she is doing for someone else, but I’m glad her person is here with her now. Your girl’s quite brave.” Rolling across the floor of the room on her stool.

Simon was dumb founded; you had talked about him to someone else? Did he really mean that much to you too?

“Now let’s have a look.”

Rolling your shirt up, exposing that smooth skin to him one more time. It’s been so long since he had last seen it, and here it had changed so much but remained stunning to him.

The doctor measured it before pulling out the doppler to hear the heartbeat. A soft whooshing noise was instantly recognized, making you close your eyes and smile. It was so surreal to Simon. Like he was on the outside looking in. He had the opportunity to see you in this light… and somehow it still was that way for you too. Knowing you were carrying this baby… but it wasn’t entirely yours either.

“Your niece is looking wonderful. See you at your thirty-six-week appointment. Will be once a week starting then.” Niece… A reminder that you were grateful for this baby, but a deep part of you wished it was daughter.

Somehow, he had made it to the checkout desk with you and hadn’t even realized it.

“Can I list you as an emergency contact?” the question that brought him back to reality. Your eyes were looking up at him, pen and paper in your hand before you wrote his name down.

“Sure,” he said taking the pen and paper, scribbling his number down next to his name. Who said anything about no contact outside of work again?

Ending the day, you brought him back to your home. Allowing him to see more of your personal life. Baring it all to him today. His fragile figurine, safe and protected now that he had found her once more. Never again would you be out of his sights. He will see to fix that, all on his own.

Two hands started at your hips before snaking around, his arms fully embraced you from behind. He lifted up on your heavy belly, taking the weight off your hips. A pleasant groan emitted from you. How good did that feel.

“Such a nice thing you are doing for your sister… but next time, the baby in there is going to be ours.” His mouth hot and heavy next to your ear, before running his tongue from the bottom up. It made your skin run hot and cold all at once, goosebumps in the wake on your skin.

“Going to be such a good mother,” his hand trailing down your belly and onto your thigh before squeezing it. “I want this to be safe and healthy for you all, but as soon as you can… I’m fillin’ you with my own. As many as you’ll let me.” Grinding into you, imagining you swollen with his seed making him aroused.

“I missed you.” You whispered out the thrice time today.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[twisted-affections-for-u]

Birdie in Need of Saving (From themself)

A/N: Working on part 2 to Lost in the Woods but I've had a lot going on, so enjoy some self indulgence writing. This can be considered a little one off thing for that fic. Apologies for any typos as I'm doing this really quick without checking over my work. Also, thank my weirdo cat for this inspiration. He kept headbutting my arm to make me feel better.

Summary: Weird things the werewolves (Gaz, John, Simon, Johnny, Alejandro, Rudy, & Nikolai) do to Reader.

Tw: Yandere, obsession, unhealthy relationship, gn!reader, gaslighting, basically kidnapping, fluffy in a dark sense, cute is used to describe reader but reader is not given a gender, MDNI

Ever since you, unintentionally, stumbled upon the lone house in the woods that was occupied by werewolves, you have been desperate to heal up and go home. You've tried to atleast be helpful even with your injuries, hoping to convince them that you were ok to go home, but they don't seem to like you leaving the spot one of them puts you at.

It's especially weird on HOW they try to communicate that and other things. Like if you try to get up to get a glass of water by yourself, suddenly Nikolai is behind you and gently pushing you back in the direction of the couch where he left you.

You try to help out around the place, since they deemed it unsafe for you to go home until you heal even if you protest, but you get a disapproving low growl from Alejandro before he takes you away from what you are doing.

You try to atleast COOK for yourself, and suddenly John is using his whole body to nudge you away from the stove. You can't even fight him on it as the man is built like a fucking brick wall!

You once asked to join Simon and Johnny on their little run in the early morning, needing the fresh air yourself, and immediately got shut down.

Because they like to run around in wolf form? No, because it would be too much strain on your poor body.

If you try to sneak outside while they are gone? Suddenly they are back and head butting you to go back inside.

Try to fight? They start to nip, never enough to break skin, just a gentle pressure as a warning. Can't have you hurting yourself when no one is around to keep an eye on you. Humans are just too fragile.

Try to not bother them with what your needs and instead do it yourself? Kyle is questioning why you would need to even move when they are within a wolf's earshot away.

Don't even THINK about taking care of your own wounds. You did it once and Rudy complained the whole time that you hadn't done in right and could have made your injuries worse.

Try to have a fit over not being allowed to basically lift a finger? They are confused why you're upset. Don't humans always complain about not having enough time in the day or worrying about bills? They can take care of that! You don't need to work, just rest until you heal and then you can do whatever hobbies you like. Why worry about bills when you could be worrying about your own happiness? They don't see how their attempts to show what good lovers they can be is making you distressed.

When you do heal enough, they won't hover as much. You are still getting nudge in the direction they want you, growled at if you do something they deemed you shouldn't, and maybe even kissed senseless if you want to be really stubborn about things. But they just want the best for you, is that so wrong?

[toxicanonymity]

ring doorbell 🚪

5400 words, stepdad!Joel x f!reader

stepdad masterlist | next fic: clock

Summary: Joel holds it together at a Christmas party, only to show up at your apartment later. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, toxic fluff, f masturbation, party-typical alcohol, angst, reader dacryphilia, grinding, unsafe P in V INTERCOURSE FINALLY ❤️‍🔥 (he's clean, I tested him myself), pulling out (this time), big mess of cum. 💦

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Note: not a big deal but white elephant gift /party explanation if you don't know

This is the wk before Xmas week like 12/16/23 yes the whole fic is mildly in the future lmao the exorcist comes out this October.

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You still haven't snapchatted Joel back. After he sends nothing one day, you think about it a lot. You want to send him your own, but you can't decide what to send. You never used to overthink it, but after all this, whatever you send feels like a big deal. The next day, you're lounging on your bed thinking about it when you get a notification.  

[Snapchat: J. has shared a photo with you] 

You've gotten yourself off to Joel's snaps so many times  that as soon as you get the notification, you're throbbing.  You’re also relieved–after going a whole day with nothing from him, you were getting anxious.  It's a rainy day and you're doing nothing, so you get out your silicone Joel but it’s dead.  You change the batteries, silently thanking Joel for his foresight, and fold a towel under you.  Before you open his Snapchat, you get yourself close with nothing but your imagination. 

You imagine him showing up at your door, eyelids red, cheeks still wet with tears, unable to speak he's so desperate for you. Latching onto your lips as he barges into your apartment, hands cradling your head, pulling your face into his. Kissing you like he's starving.  Taking off each other's clothes on the way to your room without a single word spoken until he's on your bed and rasps "I fuckin' need you right now" as he gets between your legs. Tangling your fingers in his hair as his bare chest hovers over yours and his cock hangs heavily onto your mound until he reaches down and puts it where you need it.  His lips on yours again. His tongue pushing into your mouth as he pushes his cock into you.  Your legs wrapping around him as your body swallows his length. Joel pounding into you, moaning that moan you've heard so many times now, his skin against yours, thrusting into you, approaching that moment where he'll give you the biggest load you could imagine. 

At this point, you open the snap, and it's not what you expect. 

Photo: Close-up selfie of his face and bare shoulders. His shoulders are so muscular and tan that it takes you a moment to realize his head is resting on your pillow, in your room (at their house). His eyes are large and his brow is furrowed. He looks tired. Caption: Hope this is okay.  

A lewd snap could follow any minute, but the first one makes you cum.  Just the sight of his face, the face that would be right up against yours with that big, hard, beautiful cock finally inside you. Fuck. You keep staring at his face the whole time you cum.  You almost kiss your fucking phone.  This has gotten that out of hand.  You leave it on read.  It's sweet how he's being careful, almost timid.  But at the same time, bold to go into your room.  Hope this is ok.  You fall asleep, and when you wake up, there's another photo from him, just four minutes earlier. 

Photo (82 min after the first one): Close-up selfie on his side, hair is tousled. Arm looking huge. Eyes weak. Hugging one of your pillows.  The corner is covering his chin and mouth. Caption: Good nap.  

He just wanted to take a nap in your room? Your heart flutters, which is a little uncomfortable, like it's easier when he's just nasty. But you can't deny you like this sweet side of him. He doesn't know it, but you basically just took a nap together.

—------

The next morning, Joel sends another Snapchat.

Video: He's in your bed again, laying on his side shirtless with strong shoulders, muscle cleavage, and sleepy eyes as if he slept there all night. His voice is hushed. "Mornin', beautiful” (he yawns) “So about tonight . . .I'm not gonna make it weird, ok? I'll act normal."

Video (less than a minute later): He's in the same position but holding his phone further out and at an angle and your covers are pulled down so you can see a lot more of his torso. He says, "Hope you're still comin'." 

Later that day

Photo: Mirror selfie in a red and white fair isle sweater and a mostly straight face but his eyes are a little sad. Caption: See? Normal. 

There's a family Christmas party, and you're anxious despite Joel's assurances. Can you act normal? You haven't tried in person since that night with Jacques. If Joel is finally as willing as he seems, for some reason, that makes you nervous. For months now, you've been trying to break him down, often thinking it might never happen. Even with his dick pressed right up against your leggings on Thanksgiving, it felt far away. Now after weeks of no physical contact, it feels closer than ever. And as much as you wanna make your move on Mr. Cant-believe-he-ever-turned-you-down, you're unexpectedly anxious. 

—------

When you get to your cousin's house, both Joel’s SUV and your Mom's car are there.  A small mob greets you at the door.  One of your aunts takes your white elephant gift off your hands. Joel is nearby, quietly sipping a drink.  Looking over another aunt's shoulder as she hugs you, you can see how the sweater hugs Joel's biceps and has polar bears in the pattern.  Does he have to be so cute? As you finish hugging them hello, Joel puts down his drink and tacks himself onto the end of the hug train. 

He looks you in the eye with a subtle smile – sad but hopeful.  He lifts both his arms, meaning this is a full hug and your arms will go around his waist. As you get closer, his scent hits you and you have to physically stop your eyes from closing in pleasure as you inhale through your nose. When you first touch, there's a literal spark. Static electricity. You gasp and he chuckles. Not to be deterred, his scruff brushes your cheek as his big arms wrap around you and squeeze.  This brief moment might be the coziest you've felt all winter. You loosely embrace his waist, and when you pull back, he lets you go. You share a loaded glance, his eyes falling to your mouth as he wets his lips. An aunt comes to beckon you to the kitchen. 

When you glance back over your shoulder, Joel adjusts his glasses and awkwardly hovers near the door. He’s wearing khakis, and his sweater is bunched up above his ass.  Your aunt turns to say something to you and you whip your head back around and say "sorry."  

In the kitchen, your Mom says she feels like she hasn’t seen you in forever. “Sorry I didn’t get to meet Jacques. Joel said I just missed him.”  Joel comes and stands in the door frame, drinking out of his solo cup. 

“That was weeks ago,” you say, not feigning warmth.  

She asks if Jacques is still in the picture, and you shake your head no.  When you glance at Joel, he looks about as satisfied as you expect. He helps change the subject by asking your uncle about golf.  

One of the kids yells from the other room, "Uncle Joel! play Mario Kart with us!" And Joel leaves.

You overhear Joel say, "No cryin' when I beat ya this time." 

Followed by an outraged, "YOU DIDN'T BEAT ME!"

Then Joel says, "Oww!" 

—------

About an hour and a half later, you go outside alone to the deck for some air. The yard is dark. There's a trampoline and a treehouse. You’re leaning back against the wood railing, facing the house.  A lot of the adults are drunk now and the kids are being put to bed.  You want to leave, but the white elephant exchange hasn’t happened and you don’t need everyone asking after you, wondering what happened, whether you’re okay.  You’d rather serve the time at the party. Preferably without being social.

You figure no one will notice if you go up into the treehouse meanwhile. You climb up and use your phone light. There’s a lantern up there.  You turn it on.  There are papers scattered on the floor with crayon drawings of monsters and people including a stick figure with what appears to be a huge dick pointing straight toward the ground and he's urinating on a crowd of smaller stick people.  On another sheet, there’s a snowman with stick people for arms and they don’t look happy. 

The treehouse smells like cedar chips and melted crayons. You can hear the murmur of the party which grows louder as someone opens the door. You sit and scroll your phone, confident no one saw you go up there. You think about snapchatting or texting Joel but wouldn’t want anyone to see it if he’s too drunk to be discreet. 

—--

A twig snaps in the yard.  A few seconds later, the ladder to the treehouse shakes under weighty footsteps and Joel appears in the little door frame. 

"Thought I might find ya here." Fair enough–you weren’t anywhere else. He seems only a little tipsy. "It's almost white elephant time."

You look at each other in silence. His hair is messy. He’s so hot. You can't help but smile. He stays there in the doorframe with his big hands gripping the top of the ladder. 

You break the silence with crude teasing about how he stopped sending you lewd snaps. "What happened yesterday, you didn't nut?" 

He chuckles and looks down shyly.  "Takin'' a break, I guess.  And, uh. Wasn't sure you wanted that stuff.” He looks at you again. “Cause you never reply, so." It doesn’t sound like a complaint, it just sounds a little sad. “Guess I got in my head.”

You nod in understanding then rest your head against the wall again. “Guess I didn’t know what to say.”  

He asks, "But you like it?"

You raise your eyebrows, impressed, and slowly nod.  You say, "I guess practice makes perfect, 'cause damn." You take a deep breath and spread your legs, a symbolic gesture since you're wearing pants. 

He groans softly, making you tingle.  "Christ . .Don't get me hard while I'm on this fuckin' ladder." 

You reach forward and extend your hand to bring him in and out of view of the door. His hand engulfs yours for balance, but he holds his own weight as he crouches into the small structure. Unable to stand, he gets down on his hands and knees and looks around and asks,"Think this thing is stable?" 

"You're the expert." 

He laughs, then it fades and you both seem to realize he's on all fours between your legs. He clears his throat and sits back on his heels. He looks at his watch. 

"Do you, uh, wanna talk? We've got a minute." 

You shake your head. 

"I mean, we prolly should," he says softly,  then clenches his jaw and his eyes seem to weaken when you break eye contact. Ugh, he's so hot and pitiful. You rise to your knees and knee-walk toward him. He lowers his voice, "But we don't have to talk . . .right now." When you've closed the short distance, you watch his eyes glisten and smell the egg nog on his breath. “Maybe later,” he says even softer.  He swallows then cups your face in his hand and looks at your mouth.

After a final glance to your eyes, Joel softly presses his lips into yours and you meet him with the same softness. It makes you lightheaded.  You’ve never kissed each other tenderly before, but it turns you on just as much as if he had ravished you. Because it’s real. He’s really into this, and he’s stayed into it for weeks without taking out any of his self loathing on you, IF he even still hates himself for this. 

Joel's tongue brushes your lips, then you hear the sliding door to the house open in the distance. Your uncle yells "JOEL???" and you pull away.  Joel pulls you back in for a few seconds with one hand behind your ear and another hand on your ass. His khakis press into your jeans and your heart jumps when you feel his cock begin to harden. 

"JOEL! YOU FIND HER?"

You pull away again. He takes a deep breath, looks you over, and adjusts himself as he turns away. The uncle goes back inside.  Joel exits the treehouse first then helps you down the ladder.  As you brush off your knees and butt, he says, "shoulda told me you were comin' out here." 

“Why?” you ask and he brushes himself off as well. 

He hesitates and his face falls.  “I dunno.”  His eyes look more like his sad videos, like his cool facade is cracking.  “I was lookin’ for ya.”  His Adams Apple catches your eye as he swallows.  He puts his massive hand on your back for a moment, ushering you toward the house. 

—---

Your Mom gets too drunk and goes to sleep in a guest bedroom halfway through the white elephant game. Not the first time this has happened. 

You're in a chair and Joel is sitting across the room on a sofa, manspreading. He rests his hand on his inner thigh and your breath hitches. You cross your legs, clench your thighs, and try not to stare, but you feel him looking at you from time to time.

Your cousin’s husband Barry opens the gift you brought.  It’s a sweatshirt that says Cutie. He holds it up to himself and spins around for laughs. Joel glowers. Joel steals it when it's his turn and smiles when everyone laughs. No one steals it from Joel. At the end of the game, you hug everyone goodbye. Your hug with Joel is brief. 

—----

In the middle of the night, your phone wakes you up with a Ring doorbell alert. It’s Joel. He’s wearing the stupid cutie sweatshirt. He adjusts his glasses. He rakes his hand into his hair and looks around in a way that makes you wonder if he might regret coming. You lie there for a minute or two watching the Ring feed, but he just stands there waiting.  He braces his arm on the doorframe. His biceps stretch the sleeves.  You turn your lamp on the dimmest setting and get out of bed. 

You open the front door silently and he steps back as you open it.  His eyes are a little red.  He looks dead serious.  He puts his hand back on the doorframe and the sweatshirt rides up enough to expose a sliver of skin.  His Adam's Apple bobs and he asks hoarsely, “can I come in?”

You look around outside then step back and let him in. 

“I can’t sleep,” he says as he walks into your dark kitchen.  He shakes his head. “can’t sleep after seein’ you.”  His eyes glisten. “Can we talk?” 

You feel your heart rate rising and wonder if he can tell how nervous you are. You’d prefer to break the tension physically, but apparently he has something to say and you’re gonna have to hear it sooner or later.  You turn and walk into your bedroom.  You stack pillows and lie down face up.  If he's not willing to get on your bed at this point, you're not sure if you wanna hear what he has to say after all. 

At first, he stands at the foot of the bed with his hands behind his head, elbows bent forward in distress. Your eyes drift to his exposed happy trail and the way his joggers hug his groin.  “I dunno what the hell’s wrong with me.” He looks toward your window and chokes back tears. Then he kneels on your bed. “You’re never gonna know how sorry I am.” 

“Joel, I know,” you say softly. “C’mere.” You offer space next to you. Instead, he gets between your legs and your heart skips a beat. He lies face-down, with his feet hanging off the bed. His armpits rest on your upper thighs with his elbows and forearms on either side of your hips and torso.  It turns you on of course, yet he doesn't seem to be making a move sexually. 

“I am so, so sorry,” he says. 

“I know,” you say again. “We can move on. I don't wanna keep talk–”

“But,” he says, then pauses and swallows.  His eyes are big and watery.  “I dunno if you get it. How sorry I am.” a tear rolls down his cheek. He wipes it and takes his glasses off.  You reach out your hand to take them and put them on your nightstand. He whispers, “thanks,” as he dabs his eyes with his fingers which only sends the tears to his cheeks.  

“I know you’re sorry, Joel, I get it.” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t think you get-” He puts his face down on you for a second like he’s dabbing his cheeks on your PJs, then he lifts his head again. While choking back tears, he blurts out, “I’m SO fucked up over you." He blinks and looks away and another tear escapes his eye. "can't even fuckin' sleep except in your bed." He buries his face in your thin cotton PJs.

Now you’re turned all the way on. You take a deep breath as your ache for him deepens.  When you don’t respond, he whispers, “I’m sorry,” then puts the other side of his face down on you, his mouth below your belly button. His tears are dampening your PJs. “I dunno why I’m here,” he mumbles into the bottom hem of your tank top.  Your hips lift into his upper chest once, as though adjusting your position.  He ignores it and continues, “FUCK, i’ve been tryin’ to give ya time.” He looks up at you. “Tried to act normal tonight.” He shakes his head and his brow furrows.

He presses his eyes into your tank top one by one to dry them without using his hands.  “Then i show up in the middle of the fuckin’ night,” he laughs softly at how pathetic this is. It’s taking all your restraint not to rock your hips into him. You’re wet, so wet. 

—-

“Stop. Just c’mere,” you say quietly and open your arms. You lift your hips again. He looks up at you and the distress on his face dissolves.  As he crawls up your body, his big, sweet eyes begin to darken.  He puts his forearms down on the bed on either side of your chest and your eyes connect for a moment. Your lips part.

“You’re so. . .fuck,” he sighs, then presses his lips into yours. Your mouth warmly accepts him. His lips move against yours and he licks into your mouth slowly at first, like he’s savoring every brush of his tongue against yours. Then it becomes needy at a sensual rhythm. 

With your mouths still connected, he shifts his body. The warm bulge in his joggers meets your clothed heat, and then, oh god,  his cock hardens against you.  He softly hums, "mmm" as your mouths move together and he swells harder against you. You're throbbing, aching.  For a second, you wonder if you're having a wet dream (you're not).

There's a different electricity between you now. You can both feel it – He breaks away for a moment and looks at you, breathing heavily, and you can see it in his eyes. He's not crying anymore.  He looks at peace.  He rests his weight on one arm, and his opposite hand slides onto your breast, slowly palming it as his lips move with yours and his growing arousal digs into you. It’s the first time you’ve had his whole body against yours. And fuck, he feels good. It’s the first time you’ve been on a bed together.  That one time on your couch, he said it was dangerous being alone.  This time, he's not stopping, not even slowing down.

He didn’t regret it last time you hooked up, but now there’s a different buzz inside you now. If he ends up regretting it this time, you could get hurt. His rejection never deterred you before, but this time, you feel like it could crush you. You're not even sure why, but you have to somehow acknowledge it before he puts his head between your legs, or whatever he has in mind. 

“You’re sure you wanna. . . do stuff,” you begrudgingly say and inwardly shame yourself for the tremble in your voice. 

“I’m so fuckin’ sure, sweetheart.” 

—--

That's all you need, because you can feel it in his body, too. There’s no part of him that doesn’t want you. Your mouths embrace again and only come apart for heavy breaths and moans as your hips and lips move in rhythm.  His cock grows even stiffer and his hand moves from your breast, down your side. His hands are so big and masculine, but gentle. There’s nothing hesitant about his movements. He grabs your thigh, and you bend your knee. He hikes up your leg and pushes himself harder against you where it counts.   

He slides his hand down your thigh and into your soft sleep shorts, his fingers getting closer and closer to the pool of desire that's begging for him. When his fingertips reach your cunt, you arch your back and whine, pulling your lips away as your head tilts up toward the ceiling. His mouth comes to your breast and dampens your cotton tank top as he tongues your nipple through it. 

"Fuck," you say between heavy breaths.  You've never wanted anyone–or anything–so bad in your life. It's a need. 

You run your hands over his hulking back, feeling the muscles flex on either side of his spine, and curl your fingers under the hem of his sweatshirt.  He takes it off in a flash, his white t-shirt coming with it. He takes off your tank top, then his lips return to yours, his cock grinds into you, and you sigh.  

He breaks the kiss and pauses. His tan shoulders look huge the way he's hovering there over you. 

His voice is weak and hoarse. "Don't want ya to think I came here just to–"

"Shhhh," your hips lift and you moan at his hardness. 

"Ohhh, God," he rolls his hips into yours and sighs your name. He dips his head and noses your neck, then murmurs into your skin, "didn't come here to fuck ya, baby."  His scruff brushes your cheek on his way to look at you again. 

"I know," you say.  God, you need him so bad. 

"Okay," he whispers, then covers your mouth with his again, kissing you hungrily. 

Your lips break away, then you meet his eyes and tell him, "but that's what you're gonna do."

Joel reads your eyes for a moment, breathing heavily.  Then he nods silently and a surge of arousal runs through you.  "Yeah," he nods again. "I am."   

You pull him down so his bare chest is against yours. He kisses you hard with a little bit of tooth, making your lips buzz and your nipples harden against him. He sucks your neck, and his rock-hard cock presses against your clit rhythmically. You throb violently.  Then he whispers in your ear, "'m'gonna fuck ya, sweetheart," drawing a moan from you. 

"Now," you beg. You lift your shoulder blades off the bed, pressing him up with your breasts and stomach.  You reach around to his back and hook your thumbs into the waistband of his joggers. 

"Yeah," he breathes.  You tug down his joggers. He kicks out of them and you observe the massive tent in his boxers with a pang of need from your core through your heart.  He urgently pulls off your sleep shorts, then says "fuck," and takes his boxers off, too. 

You take a deep breath as you stroke your clit and spread yourself open for him. He moans softly at the sight of your fingers at your glistening cunt. He wets his lips as he reaches between your legs. His hand replaces yours, and he sharply inhales.  He spreads your slick around your folds and gently rubs your clit. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

He gets in position and hikes up your leg again. His head falls, putting his messy head of hair in your view.  He watches himself align his cock with your entrance, and your breath hitches at the first touch of the smooth head of his cock.  He begins to push inside with a moan, opening you up with his swollen tip.  Your clit twitches. His hips push forward, giving you more of him, and his mouth falls open as he watches it happen.  You both moan as his cock parts your insides. It’s happening smoothly, without effort, and the stretch is delicious.

Joel pries his gaze away from where your bodies are joined. He locks eyes with you, then plunges to the hilt and shudders as he bottoms out. God, the way his cock fills you up. His eyes glisten and his face looks like he’s in pain, but he’s not.  You catch yourself holding your breath, and you exhale with a whimper. Joel stays all the way inside with his swollen balls against you and closes his eyes, his chest expanding with air. “Jesus, fuck,” he whispers. His chest is heaving.  He opens his eyes and tries to speak. “You feel – god damn. . . you're. . .(a vocal sigh). . you–" 

You cut him off by pulling him in for a kiss. He twitches inside you and you both moan. 

After a moment, he slowly pulls his hips back, then pushes in again. "Mmmm" he moans into your mouth. All the times you’ve imagined this, you never counted on the contact of your bodies and faces together.  You could never have dreamed how full you’d feel. Even after having him in your hand. In your mouth. This feeling is new for you. It’s like he’s shaped just for you. He pulls back, then bottoms out again and groans against your cheek. How is it already the best you’ve ever had? He retreats, then slides all the way in with a punch of his cock as he bottoms out. 

"That okay?" he asks like he doesn't wanna hurt you. 

You nod urgently, "Give it to me."

He thrusts into you harder, working up to about once per second, at first. Breathing heavily, grunting, moaning, vocalizing constantly in one way or another. He kisses your lips, sucks your neck, and lightly bites you as your cunt hugs his cock just right.  He steals downward glances at your body and groans as he watches his glistening cock disappear into you again and again. He gradually ups the pace and intensity until you're whining.  

"Fuck," he sighs, and you whimper. "Too much?"

"Don't hold back," you shake your head. "Don't you dare hold back."

"Oh, baby," he says, then slams into you with all his weight. You asked for it, but you're really not prepared for the other realm he sends you to.  "Fuck MEee," he moans. He pounds into you, grunting each time he buries his cock in your dripping core.   He snaps his hips and kisses you sloppily. Your mouths are half connected and half moaning into each other's cheeks. 

You moan, “Jo–” but stop yourself. 

“S'okay," he pants. "You can say it.”

“Fuck, I–”

“Say it, sweetheart”

“Joel,” you whine.

"Oh, Christ," he pants.

"Fuck, Joel, uggggh–your--"

"Oh, Fuck"

"Feel so–"

"Yeah," he breathes, slamming into you with his weight behind it. “Fuck, baby–yeahhh”.

You feel the pleasure building in your gut and core as he fucks you.  Your sounds must seem increasingly distressed, and so do his. They tumble out of the back of his throat. The tension in your belly tightens. He lowers his chest against yours again. Your arms are around his neck and his forearms squeeze your sides. He manages to fuck you so deep and good, even while he's flat against you. His hips move like a mating animal. 

It hits you like a ton of bricks: This is it. Every other man is ruined for you. How could anything compare? Your own eyes prickle with tears.

Joel tries a few times to say things, but every time it devolves into a moan or guttural sigh. He makes sounds you haven't heard before. 

"Ohhh, fuck," he moans. "I dunno if I can–" 

You open your eyes and the agonized look on his face puts you all the way on the edge. He must be close. 

"Give it to me, Joel."

He pistons into you harder, all his muscles flexing.  You whimper as your thighs tremble. 

"C'mon, baby," he whispers, then he grunts. He growls, "Soak me, baby–ohh–Just fuckin'––nnngh"

You sigh vocally and start to clench around him.  You moan his name, long and drawn out as pleasure seizes you. 

You flutter around his cock and he gasps, "oh, fuck." You gush and groan, your hips lifting into him, mouth hanging open, breathing and whining at once.  

He pants, "Fuck–(a low moan), I wanna fill–ohhhhh, god (heavy breaths). Sweetheart, i really wanna–ahh, shit." He bites his lips together, his cheeks puff out, and his neck vein flexes. You’re still cumming. He grunts from the back of his throat as he pulls out and slaps cock down on your mound. He presses his body against you so his cock rubs your still pulsing clit. 

His cock is nestled between your bodies, and he’s grinding into you when he erupts massively with a shudder from deep in his chest.  His pulsations drag yours out as his cum coats your mound and lower belly. He groans as he slowly, wetly grinds against you. He breathes and gasps for air, still cumming. His cock pulses so powerfully, a hot rope every couple of seconds. 

With the movement of his hips and sliding of his cock, the warmth of his cum spreads around your skin, settling into your navel, and he’s still cumming. The obscene mess between you is sticky and growing.  Then, even after his balls have emptied, he stays on top of you, hard cock pressed against you, empty pulsations waning for what feels like minutes.  He's so warm and wet and hard. He lies there with his weight on you and dips his forehead to your pillow, resting his temple against yours. You both have aftershocks against each other as you try to catch your breath.

"Holy shit," you pant softly. Once he rolls off you, you're already sticking to each other near the edges of the mess where it's drying. 

—--

All you can do is breathe heavily. His lips find yours. He kisses you deeply, then pulls back and hovers over you. He brushes tears you don't realize you're crying off your cheeks and his brow furrows.  

"Shit," he says as his thumb brushes your cheek. His eyes are wide. "You okay?" He swallows and studies your face. 

You nod confidently and look him in the eyes. He bows his head with relief, then gently kisses you again. You're terrified he's gonna come down and regret it. Your wet skin begins to feel cold. You look down. "Oh my god." It's so much cum. You're covered in it. It's all the way up to your breasts, at least. It's all over him, too.

"Oh shit," he says with a small laugh. "Gimme a sec." He gets out of bed. 

-----

Cleaning both of you up takes multiple warm washcloths. You really need a full shower, but you're so tired and just want to be held. 

You move to  the dry side of the bed. You'll deal with it all in the morning. He turns off the lamp and gets under the sheets with you. You face each other, and he wraps his arms around you. 

You ask, "What time do you have to leave?" 

"I'm not worried about it," he says. 

There's a long silence, during which he strokes your shoulder with his thumb.

Then you whisper, "What now?"

"Mmm….We do it again, and again, and again. . ." 

You look up at him. "Are you mocking me?" 

He kisses you.

"I'm trying to have an adult conversation," you mock back.  

Then he whispers, "let's go to sleep" and kisses you good night. 

—-------

His Xmas party look 😍😍😍

Distressed stepdad art 🥹🥹🥹

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Your comments and reblogs mean a lot!!!! I love you guys. You can follow @toxicfics to turn on notifications. make sure your phone has push notifs enabled for tumblr.

If this is the first one you've read, I strongly recommend reading the series (it's not long like prob <15k total). there are references to it in this.

------

[pixiefelixie]

𓆝..°°𓈒 ⋆ (필릭스) : REMEMBER THIS SUMMER "FRIDAY" MDNI!!!

𓆉 °°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ synopsis felix is living the summer every teenager dreams of, with a perfect beach house on the east coast of australia and an even more perfect girlfriend. by taking the best of both worlds, felix invites her to experience the world he grew up in to make this the best summer ever. amidst bonfires, romantic sunsets, and seagulls, felix has one goal this summer: to finally tell her he loves her. with just one week to do so, felix is met with a challenge to make his feelings known before time runs out. 

pairing: nonidol!felix x fem!reader, series warnings: this work is NSFW so minors do not interact!, established relationship, fluff, angsty chapter important notes: The content of this work is purely fictional and is not intended to endorse or encourage any behavior, especially among minors, that may be deemed inappropriate or unsafe. This story is created solely for entertainment purposes and should be understood as fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

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previous / next (let me know if you would like to be added to the series taglist!)

nsfw warnings and chapter under the cut ~17k words

warnings: underaged sex, non-penetrative, suggestive themes, making out, marking, dry humping, orgasm under clothes

day 6 - 8:00

the first thing you felt was warmth.

it wrapped around you like a soft cocoon, the heat radiating from the body pressed against yours, steady and unwavering. your cheek was resting against smooth skin, your fingers curled lightly against felix’s bare chest, rising and falling with his slow, even breaths. the room was still bathed in the quiet hush of early morning, the air cool, but his warmth surrounded you, keeping you nestled in a pocket of comfort.

blinking sleepily, you stirred just a little, enough to lift your gaze without moving too much. felix was awake, his head resting against the pillow just inches from yours, his eyes slightly focused on the screen of his phone. he held it out in front of him with one arm, his fingers scrolling lazily. his other arm was still wrapped securely around you, his palm resting against your back.

you stayed still for a moment, just watching him. his hair was a mess of soft waves, tousled from sleep, the strands falling slightly over his forehead. his lips were slightly parted, and his skin carried the warmth of sleep, golden in the early-morning light. 

you sighed softly, the breath leaving your lips in a slow exhale as warmth settled deep in your chest. without thinking, you shifted slightly, your arm sliding up and wrapping gently around felix’s waist, pulling yourself closer to him. his skin was warm beneath your touch, radiating heat that felt grounding, safe.

at the movement, felix blinked down at you, his scrolling pausing entirely. a small smile tugged at his lips as he locked his phone, setting it aside without hesitation. his attention was fully on you now, his gaze soft and full of something unreadable—something deep. you hoped it was love.

“good morning,” he murmured, his morning voice raspy, still husky around the edges.

you smiled up at him, eyes barely open, sleep still tugging at your limbs. “good morning.”

everything felt so domestic, so natural. felix’s fingers traced light patterns against your back, his hand still resting securely against you, and you let your body melt into his warmth.

“that was the best sleep i’ve ever had,” you murmured, your voice soft but sincere, your cheek still pressed against his bare chest.

felix let out a quiet chuckle, his chest vibrating gently beneath you. “yeah?” 

you nodded, letting your fingers trace slow, absentminded circles against his skin. “mhm. thank you.”

felix’s gaze softened even more, his eyes flickering down to your lips, and before you could even process it, he was leaning in. the warmth of his breath fanned against your skin for a split second before his lips brushed against yours—soft, slow, deliberate.

but then, as your brain finally caught up with what was happening, your eyes widened slightly, and you pulled back just an inch, pressing your palm lightly against his chest.

“i didn’t brush my teeth,” you mumbled, half embarrassed, half amused.

felix just chuckled, low and lazy, his arms tightening around you as if to keep you from even thinking about moving away. his forehead bumped gently against yours, his smile never fading.

“mm,” he hummed, his voice still thick with sleep, “but you’re always as clean as…” he trailed off, eyes twinkling with playful mischief as he pretended to search for the right words.

you raised an eyebrow, waiting. “as what?”

felix’s lips quirked into a grin before he finally finished, “as a fresh-out-the-shower angel.”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “that’s the worst comparison ever.”

felix only smirked, pulling you even closer until your bodies were completely pressed together. “you’re mean,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours. 

your laughter faded into a smile, soft and full, as you looked up at felix. you closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a slow, deliberate kiss. felix responded instantly. his breath hitched slightly, but then he melted into you, his lips molding against yours in a way that felt utterly natural, utterly right.

felix’s lips moved against yours with an aching slowness, the kind that made your stomach tighten and your skin tingle. the kiss was warm, deep, and deliberate. his lips were so soft, perfectly against yours, and parting just enough to let you taste the heat of him. every slow drag, every slight tilt of his head sent a fresh wave of warmth cascading down your spine, pooling low in your stomach.

his hand, still cradling the side of your face, tilted your chin just slightly, giving him better access as he deepened the kiss. his thumb traced delicate circles just beneath your jaw, coaxing you to relax, to melt further into him. his breath was warm, mixing with yours, and every slight shift of his lips sent another pulse of sensation through you, another flicker of electricity that made you lightheaded with the sheer intensity of it.

"you deserve everything," he whispered against your mouth between kisses, voice firm like it was an undeniable truth. his hand slid down to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your stomach tighten. "i hope you know that."

his fingers spread slightly, palm pressing firmly as he mapped the shape of you, lingering just at the dip of your waist before traveling lower. the heat of his touch bled through the thin fabric of your shirt, making your stomach clench, your breath hitch ever so slightly against his mouth.

felix smirked against your lips, as if he could feel the way your body responded to him. his fingers grazed your hip, tightening briefly before he continued his path downward, his palm gliding over the outer curve of your thigh. his touch was slow, teasing, deliberate. he traced light, absentminded strokes down your leg, fingertips grazing over your skin in a way that sent goosebumps rippling up your arms.

without thinking—without even meaning to—you lifted your leg just slightly, an unconscious invitation. felix reacted instantly. his grip on your thigh firmed, his fingers pressing into the softness of your skin, and in one smooth, effortless motion, he scooped your leg up and hooked it over his hip.

a shiver ran through you at the motion, at the effortless way he handled you. butterflies erupted in your stomach, a wild fluttering that made your breath catch, made your head spin. the new position pressed you even closer against him, the heat of his body seeping into every inch of you.

felix groaned softly against your lips, his grip tightening on your thigh, his other hand slipping back to your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself. his lips parted against yours again, and he kissed you deeper, slower, his tongue brushing teasingly against yours before pulling back just enough to make you chase him. his fingers traced slow, lingering patterns along your thigh where he held it in place, his touch sending another wave of warmth curling through you.

your heart was pounding, each beat echoing through your body, your senses drowning in the feel of him—the way he held you close, the way his hands moved over you with careful, deliberate reverence, the way his lips pressed against yours with a slow-burning hunger that sent heat coiling low in your stomach.

felix felt like he was sinking—drowning in you, in the warmth of your body against his, in the way your lips moved with such effortless tenderness against his own. he didn’t want this to end. not this moment, not this morning, not this feeling. he wanted to wake up every day to this—to you curled against his chest, to the lazy heat of your body pressed against his, to your lips parting so willingly beneath his own.

and the way you responded to him… it was making him weak. every little shift, every subtle press of your body against his, the way your fingers trembled slightly as they splayed across his bare chest—it was unraveling him piece by piece. he could feel it in the way your breath hitched when his fingers flexed against your waist, in the way you lifted your leg just a little more, pressing yourself closer to him, your thigh hooked over his hip as if you never wanted to let go.

felix could feel it happening, creeping up on him like a slow, inevitable tide. his body’s betrayal to himself, exposing just how much he wanted you. heat flooded felix’s face, spreading down his neck, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration knotting in his chest. his throat felt tight, his pulse hammering, each beat thick with tension. his pulse thundered in his ears, his breaths coming just a little heavier against your lips as he fought to keep himself composed. don’t get hard.

but his body didn’t give a damn what his brain wanted. it was already happening, the stiff pressure growing against the fabric of his sweatpants, making his whole body tense. he squeezed his eyes shut, as if willing it to disappear, as if sheer force of will could stop the way his body was responding to you.

the way you were kissing him, soft and unhurried, completely lost in the moment—it meant you probably hadn’t felt it yet. yet. he had to do something. anything.

and because he was a certified idiot, his next move sealed his fate.

felix reached down, slow and subtle, trying to adjust himself—just a quick shift to make sure it wasn’t as noticeable. but the moment his fingers brushed against the fabric, against the already uncomfortable strain pressing against his pants, he realized he had just made it ten times worse.

his entire body went rigid, and just as he was internally cursing at himself, you suddenly stilled against him.

the kiss stopped.

everything stopped.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, brows furrowing slightly, and in the soft morning quiet, your voice came out hesitant.

the second that hesitant uh left your lips, a sharp jolt of dread shot through him, coiling around his ribs, squeezing tight. felix’s throat felt tight, his pulse hammering against his skin, each frantic beat echoing the sharp spike of panic clawing through his chest. his fingers flexed against his waistband as if he could somehow will the situation away, erase the last five seconds, undo the unbearable heat of getting caught.

his breath hitched, and then—"i’m sorry," he blurted, voice hoarse, strained.

the moment the words left his lips, he moved, trying to scramble out of your grasp, his body tense, desperate to escape the weight of his own embarrassment. his hands fumbled against the sheets, his movements jerky, uncoordinated, like he didn’t even know what to do with himself.

but before he could pull away, you caught him.

your hands found his shoulders, your fingers gripping just enough to hold him there, to stop him from retreating. the warmth of your touch seared into his skin, grounding, steady. his body went rigid beneath you, his chest rising and falling too fast, the heat in his face unbearable.

"it’s okay," you murmured, voice soft, firm, so goddamn gentle it made his stomach twist even tighter.

felix let out a sharp breath, his jaw clenching, his fingers curling into the sheets beside him. his heart was slamming against his ribs, his body locked in place, caught between wanting to believe you and the sheer, suffocating embarrassment threatening to swallow him whole.

"fuck," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. his eyes squeezed shut, his brows knitting together, frustration and mortification tangled in the tightness of his expression. "i just—"

your fingers tightened slightly against his shoulders, grounding him, keeping him there. felix’s breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling too quickly, his entire body wound tight like a live wire. the heat radiating from him wasn’t just warmth anymore—it was something else entirely. something that made the air between you feel charged, electric, humming with a tension that neither of you knew quite how to navigate.

"felix," you murmured, your voice soft, but sure.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. he still wouldn’t look at you. his eyes were squeezed shut, his hands curled into the sheets, his whole body rigid with tension. but he didn’t move away. he didn’t pull back. he stayed.

you shifted slightly, your fingers tracing soothing circles against his skin, feeling the way his muscles twitched beneath your touch. his body was betraying him, every inch of him caught between the unbearable weight of embarrassment and the undeniable truth of how much he wanted you.

"look at me," you whispered.

a muscle in his jaw ticked. he hesitated. but then, slowly—so fucking slowly—his lashes lifted, and his gaze met yours.

his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, his irises caught somewhere between desperation and restraint. he looked wrecked. completely undone. and fuck, if that didn’t send another pulse of heat straight to your core.

"it’s okay," you repeated, softer this time, your voice carrying the weight of quiet understanding.

felix let out a breath, shaky, uneven. "it’s not," he rasped, his fingers twitching where they gripped the sheets. "i didn’t—i wasn’t trying to—"

"i know," you cut in gently, your hands sliding up his shoulders, fingertips tracing lightly over the curve of his neck. his pulse thundered beneath your touch, hammering against his skin like a drumbeat.

felix’s breath came out in a ragged sigh, his fingers twitching against the sheets like they couldn’t decide whether to let go or hold on for dear life. his cheeks were flushed a deep pink, spreading down to his neck, and his eyes flitted anywhere but at you, as though maybe if he didn’t see you looking at him, this whole situation would just vanish into thin air.

felix swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he tried—and failed—to steady himself. his grip on the sheets twitched, his body still caught between the lingering embarrassment and the undeniable heat simmering beneath his skin. 

a slow, breathy chuckle left his lips, his fingers finally releasing their death grip on the sheets as he let his head fall back against the pillow. "man," he sighed, voice still rough around the edges, but now laced with something playful. "this is the worst way to start a morning, huh?"

you blinked at him, taken aback for half a second before a small, surprised laugh bubbled out of you. "it’s only bad if you make it bad," you mused, tilting your head slightly. 

he chuckled, the sound low, his hand on your hip squeezing just the slightest bit. a beat of silence stretched between you, filled only by the soft sounds of your breathing, the lingering weight of everything that had just happened.

"i mean…" your voice was barely above a whisper, shy, and felix stilled instantly. his fingers paused against your hip, his expression shifting as his eyes flickered up to meet yours. your stomach twisted, nerves and something deeper intertwining as you forced yourself to hold his gaze. "if you want, we could… try something."

felix didn’t move for a second.

his breath hitched.

his grip on your hip tightened just a little, but he said nothing—just stared at you, like he was trying to make sure he hadn’t misheard you, like he was waiting for you to say it again just to be sure.

felix’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. "you…" he exhaled, shaking his head slightly as if he was trying to clear it. "you wanna…?"

your cheeks burned, heat spreading down your neck, but you nodded, your fingers curling slightly against his shoulders. "i mean, we’ve talked about it." the words felt heavy and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected.

felix’s breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your hip, his other hand still resting beside your thigh, warm and steady. his expression softened—not in pity, not in hesitation, but in something else entirely. something that made your stomach flutter, made your chest feel tight in the best possible way.

"you don’t have to—"

"i want to," you interrupted, your voice firmer this time, sure. "i… i trust you."

that did something to him. you saw it in the way his lips parted slightly, in the way his pupils darkened, the way his whole body tensed before softening beneath your touch. his jaw twitched, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns along your hip as he let your words settle in.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, thick with something unspoken, something electric. felix wet his lips, exhaling slowly before tilting his head slightly. "okay," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "okay."

your heart pounded, anticipation curling through you, leaving your limbs tingling. the reality of this moment, of what you were both admitting to, settled in your chest like a slow, rolling wave.

felix’s hand slid up slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs, just beneath the hem of your shirt. the touch was light, teasing, barely there, but it sent a shiver racing down your spine. "we don’t have to rush," he murmured, his voice softer now, lower. "we figure it out together, yeah?"

you nodded, your fingers tracing the curve of his shoulder, the warmth of his skin beneath your touch grounding you. "yeah," you whispered. “we can try something that’ll make us both feel good.”

felix exhaled sharply, something between relief and something else, something deeper. and then—slowly, carefully—he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours again, softer this time, unhurried.

"yeah?" his voice was even lower now. “like what?" 

your stomach twisted, heat curling at the base of your spine as you bit your lip, trying to push past the shyness creeping up your throat. you weren’t sure why it felt so hard to just say it outright—maybe because it felt so intimate, so deliberate, like stepping over an invisible line neither of you had ever crossed before.

you swallowed, shifting slightly against him, feeling the way his breath hitched at the movement.

felix’s breath stalled in his throat the second you moved. his fingers twitched against your waist as you reached for the covers, slowly peeling them back, the cool air of the room washing over both of you. his gaze followed your every movement, dark eyes flickering with something heavy, something deep, as you shifted, lifting yourself just enough to climb over him.

he didn’t stop you.

didn’t even breathe.

his hands hovered near your hips, like he was fighting the urge to grab hold of you, like he wanted to let you lead.

felix was wrecked. completely, utterly, devastatingly wrecked.

the moment you settled over him,  straddling his waist, something in his chest clenched so tight it hurt. his breath hitched, and he knew—knew—that he was beyond saving.

you looked unreal.

like something he wasn’t meant to touch.

like something too soft, too good, too—fuck.

the floral tank top clung to your frame, the soft fabric brushing against your skin, rising just slightly where it met your matching thin shorts. golden morning light kissed every inch of you, tracing over your skin like it worshiped you, pooling in the dip of your collarbone, sliding down the curves of your thighs where your shorts rode up just slightly. your hair was still tousled from sleep, loose strands falling over your face, and your lips—plush, swollen from his kisses—parted slightly as you exhaled. you were staring down at him with those eyes, those goddamn eyes, and he felt like he was unraveling beneath your gaze.

heat crept up your neck, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver through you, but you didn’t look away. instead, you slowly lowered yourself, hovering just above him, your hands resting lightly against his bare chest.

"just… like this," you murmured, your fingers brushing lightly against his side. “just… feeling each other."

felix blinked.

it took half a second for the realization to settle in, but when it did, something in his expression shifted—his lips parted slightly, his fingers twitching against your hip, his jaw tensing like he was processing it all at once.

and then, slowly, his face softened.

a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, but there was nothing cocky about it—just warmth, understanding, something safe. "you sure?" he murmured, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your hip bone.

you nodded, heart pounding. "it’s… safer. right?"

felix exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head just a little. "yeah. yeah, it is." his fingers flexed against your skin, his voice turning softer, more serious. 

felix studied you for a long moment, his fingers resting lightly against your waist, the warmth of his touch steady, grounding. his expression was softer now, the teasing edge from earlier fading into something deeper, something more careful. his eyes searched yours, dark and full of things left unspoken.

"you’re okay with this?" his voice was quiet, low, like he wanted to make sure, one last time, that this was something you truly wanted.

your heart pounded, warmth creeping up your neck, but you didn’t hesitate.

"i trust you, felix."

that was all he needed.

his breath hitched, his fingers tightening against your waist for the briefest second, and then a slow exhale left his lips, something easing in his expression. his eyes softened, and then—he nodded. just once.

and that was all you needed.

a small smile tugged at your lips, your hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your palms. felix’s own lips curled slightly, matching your expression, and then you moved—shifting your weight just enough to lower yourself down against him, pressing your body flush against his.

and that was when you felt it. the hard, undeniable pressure nestled right between your legs, separated only by the thin fabric of your shorts and his sweatpants.

both of you sucked in a sharp breath.

your entire body went rigid, heat rushing to your face as the realization hit you all at once. the pressure, the warmth, the way your pulse pounded between your thighs—it was overwhelming. immediate. your hands clenched slightly against his chest, your body tensing instinctively at the unexpected intensity of it all.

felix’s reaction was just as instant.

his breath stuttered, his fingers digging slightly into your waist, his body stiffening beneath you. a low, barely-there sound caught in his throat, a mix between a sharp inhale and a quiet groan, quickly swallowed down.

your face burned. the heat creeping up your neck felt unbearable, too much. you ducked your head, pressing your face into the curve of his neck, your breath warm against his skin, your body going still against him.

felix’s chest rose sharply beneath you. his hands twitched on your hips.

"...are you okay?" his voice was soft, careful, a little breathless.

you nodded against his neck, but your voice was small when you mumbled, "don’t want you to look at me."

a quiet chuckle rumbled through felix’s chest, deep and warm, and he squeezed your waist just slightly, fingers trailing light, reassuring patterns against your skin.

"that’s okay," he murmured, amusement laced in his voice, but no teasing—just understanding, just him letting you be in this moment however you needed to be.

you exhaled slowly against his neck, letting yourself relax against him, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his pulse beneath your lips. felix’s hands on your hips were steady, firm, holding you there, grounding you. he didn’t rush, didn’t push, just let you settle into the weight of him, let you feel him.

you shifted just slightly, pressing down against him, testing, feeling.

the friction sent a sharp, unexpected pulse of sensation through you, a slow roll of warmth pooling low in your stomach. your clit brushed against the hard press of him beneath all the layers, the pressure perfectly, maddeningly placed.

a quiet gasp left your lips before you could stop it, muffled against his skin.

felix wasn’t unaffected either.

his breath hitched, his grip on your hips tightening, and then a soft, quiet gasp of his own slipped past his lips, hot against the shell of your ear. his whole body tensed beneath you, every muscle going rigid, his hips barely, barely pressing up in response before he caught himself.

"fuck," he breathed, his voice strained, wrecked already. his forehead dropped back against the pillow, his fingers pressing into your skin, his restraint evident in the way he held himself still beneath you.

you swallowed hard, heat curling in your stomach, breath coming faster now. your fingers clenched slightly against his chest, your body buzzing from the sensation, from the way felix had gasped against your ear, from the way he felt beneath you—warm and hard and completely at your mercy.

felix let out a shaky breath, his hands smoothing slow, steady circles against your waist. "you okay?" his voice was lower now, rougher, laced with something thick, something dark.

you nodded against his neck, voice barely above a whisper.

"yeah."

felix exhaled sharply, his hands sliding a little lower, gripping just beneath the curve of your hips.

and then—he moved.

his hands tightened against your hips, his grip grounding, firm, and in one slow, deliberate motion, he pulled you down against him.

the friction was immediate, sharp and warm and devastatingly good. the pressure of his cock beneath all the layers pressed right against your heat, the slow, controlled movement making your breath catch, making your legs clench instinctively around his hips.

felix groaned, low and wrecked, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. his head fell back against the pillow, his lips parted, his hands holding you in place as he did it again—pulling your hips against his, rutting up to meet you, the fabric between you doing nothing to dull the heat.

you inhaled sharply, your fingers digging into his chest as the sensation hit you, your body instinctively pressing down against him, seeking more, needing more.

felix’s breath was uneven, his grip on your waist growing just a little tighter, his movements a little more deliberate. he wasn’t holding back anymore—he was guiding you, controlling the rhythm, his hips rolling up into yours with slow, controlled precision.

you squeezed your eyes shut, your breath coming faster now, heat curling low in your stomach as the pressure built, as the friction sent little sparks of pleasure rippling through your body.

then, unable to help yourself, you moved too—grinding down against him harder, meeting his movements, your body falling into rhythm with his. felix let out a sharp, shuddering breath, his grip faltering for a second before he caught himself, his fingers pressing harder into your hips, helping guide you, matching your pace.

"fuck," he murmured, voice strained, rough, like he was barely holding himself together.

the pleasure between you was growing, steady and relentless, the rhythm becoming constant, your bodies moving in sync, finding something that felt both slow and desperate all at once.

felix’s breath was ragged beneath you, each slow grind of your hips making his grip tighten, his fingers pressing into your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away. the friction was maddening, the layers between you teasing, amplifying everything, making it all feel somehow more intense. your bodies were moving together now, falling into a steady rhythm, the pressure of him hitting just right, sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

felix breathed, his voice rough, strained. "this, this feels good."

you nodded against him, unable to form proper words, your lips brushing over his collarbone as you rocked against him again, chasing more of that delicious friction. "mhm…"

felix let out a quiet, breathy grunt, his head tilting back against the pillow, exposing the length of his throat. "i didn’t think… hngh—" he broke off as you rolled your hips a little harder, his grip twitching against your skin. "—i didn’t think this would feel this good."

you swallowed, your breath shaky as warmth coiled low in your stomach, tightening with each slow, deliberate grind. "me neither," you admitted, your voice coming out softer, more breathless than you intended.

felix chuckled, though it was weak, barely holding up under the weight of his own pleasure. "this is… kind of dangerous," he murmured, his hands sliding up your sides, smoothing over the fabric of your tank top before settling just beneath your ribs, his touch hot, grounding.

you shivered at his touch, your hands pressing against his chest for balance as you rocked down harder, feeling the way his cock throbbed beneath the layers between you. your face burned, but you couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop. it felt too good. too intoxicating.

"not too dangerous," you whispered, voice teasing, but your breath stuttered as felix suddenly bucked his hips up into you, adding a new kind of pressure that sent heat shooting straight through you.

a quiet sigh slipped past your lips before you could stop it, muffled slightly against his neck.

felix groaned in response, his fingers tightening under your ribs, his hips rutting up into yours again, more deliberate this time. "shit—okay," he gasped, a breathy laugh slipping between the edges of his words. "maybe just a little."

you nodded quickly, your body trembling against his, overwhelmed by the slow, steady pleasure unraveling between you. "a little," you echoed, though your voice faltered on the last word, your breath hitching as his cock pressed just right against you through your shorts.

felix cursed under his breath, his hands sliding down, gripping your hips again, guiding you in slow, controlled rolls. his movements were precise, calculated, dragging more friction, more pressure, and every time you moved, it sent another pulse of pleasure right where you needed it.

"baby," he gritted out, his voice nearly breaking on the word. his head tipped forward slightly, lips brushing against your shoulder. "you’re so—" he cut himself off, exhaling sharply as you pushed down against him again, feeling him pulse beneath you.

your stomach tightened, pleasure building, curling hot and insistent. your breath was coming faster now, your body rocking against him with more purpose, more need.

felix’s voice was lower now, rough, his words barely more than a whisper. "keep going."

your hands moved without thinking, sliding up his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath your fingertips. the heat of his skin was intoxicating, each slow drag of your palms leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. felix shuddered beneath you, his breath catching as your fingers traced over his collarbones, then down again, pressing lightly against the firm ridges of his stomach.

"shit," he breathed, voice thick with something unfiltered, raw.

he lifted his hands from your hips, his touch hesitant for just a second before he let himself move—his palms smoothing up your sides, fingers grazing over the thin fabric of your tank top before slipping under. the warmth of his hands against your bare skin sent a sharp jolt of heat down your spine, making you inhale sharply, your movements faltering for half a second before you pressed down against him again.

the friction was maddening—slow and constant, a steady, delicious pressure that had your bodies completely locked into each other, moving in sync.

felix groaned softly, his head tilting back against the pillow, his hands gripping your waist beneath your shirt, his thumbs brushing slow, teasing circles against your skin. his hips rolled up into yours again, dragging another sharp wave of pleasure through you, and before you could stop yourself—a soft, breathy whine slipped past your lips.

felix froze. 

his grip on your waist tightened, his jaw clenching, his eyes fluttering shut for half a second before he suddenly leaned in—his lips pressing hot and open-mouthed against your neck, right against the spot where your pulse pounded.

a small gasp caught in your throat, your body shivering under the sensation, your hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

felix barely noticed.

all he could think about was the sound you had just made—the quiet, desperate little whine that had slipped from your lips, unfiltered, raw, fucking perfect.

his lips dragged lower, kissing, sucking lightly at your skin, and before you could stop yourself—another soft noise left you, muffled slightly as you tried to suppress it. your face burned instantly, heat crawling up your neck, and you squeezed your eyes shut, mortified.

"oh my god," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. "this is so embarrassing."

"no, baby," he murmured, voice low, firm, full of something dangerously soft. his hands smoothed up your sides again. "you could never be embarrassing."

your heart slammed against your ribs.

slowly, you lifted your head, your face still burning, and felix took the opportunity—leaning in, pressing his lips back to your neck, kissing slowly like he wanted to erase every ounce of hesitation left in your body.

you melted against him.

the rhythm between you didn’t stop—if anything, it only grew deeper, the slow, steady grind of your hips against his sending little waves of pleasure curling through you, building higher, sharper.

felix groaned against your skin, his lips trailing up, back to your jaw, before resting his forehead against yours, breath hot and uneven. his fingers gripped your waist again, guiding you, pulling you down against him harder, until—

a sharp, blinding rush of pleasure shot through you, sudden and overwhelming.

"felix—" his name left your lips in a breathless whisper, half a gasp, half a plea.

felix groaned, his grip on your waist flexing as he pushed up to meet you, matching your rhythm, moving with you, his movements just as frantic, just as desperate. his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot, ragged, his lips brushing against your cheek as he murmured—

"yeah, baby?"

your breath shuddered out of you, your head falling forward, your hands fisting in the sheets beside his shoulders. "i’m—" you swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper.

felix sucked in a sharp breath as he understood.

his fingers flexed against your waist, his grip tightening, and then—his body shuddered beneath you, his hips rutting up harder, more urgent, the friction between you pushing both of you closer.

"me too," he rasped, voice wrecked, his hands sliding up your sides, pulling you against him like he needed you, like he couldn’t bear the space between your bodies anymore.

his lips brushed against your jaw, his breath hot and uneven. "don’t stop."

the friction between you both remained relentless—eager, desperate, and just a little bit ridiculous. there was no finesse, no practiced rhythm, just a mess of frantic movements and needy sounds, both of you too lost in the sensation to even think about doing it right.

felix let out something between a groan and a breathless laugh as your hips stuttered against his, the pressure just right but the motion clumsy, uneven. his grip on your waist tightened as he tried to guide you, but the moment he pushed up again, his breath hitched—his whole body shivering beneath you like he’d just touched a live wire.

"fuck, i—" his words cut off into a strangled sound, his head falling back against the pillow, lips parting, brows furrowing. his hips jerked up on instinct, the friction so intense, so good that he couldn’t control it anymore. his fingers twitched against your skin, his body tensing beneath yours like he was barely hanging on.

you weren’t doing much better.

your breath was coming fast, uneven, your fingers digging into his shoulders as heat coiled low in your stomach, sharp and insistent. every accidental grind, every miscalculated movement, only sent another wave of pleasure rushing through you, growing stronger, more unbearable.

felix sucked in a sharp breath, his hands slipping up beneath your shirt, palms hot against your sides. his fingers flexed, gripping, guiding—trying to help, but he was just as lost as you, his movements desperate, erratic. his lips parted, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as his hips twitched up again, searching, chasing.

"shit—" your voice broke, your forehead dropping against his as a sharp, overwhelming pulse of pleasure tore through you. it was too much, too intense, and before you could stop it—

your whole body tensed.

felix felt it happen.

his eyes fluttered open, wide, lips parting as he realized, as he felt you stiffen against him. your thighs clenched around his hips, a soft, broken sound slipping from your lips—a sound that sent a violent shudder through his body, his fingers tightening on your skin.

"are you—?" his voice cracked mid-sentence, the words trailing off into a strangled whimper. you barely heard him. you were lost—still shivering, still caught in the aftershocks, the lingering heat pulsing between you both. your body felt like it was still chasing something, even as it trembled from the high. "oh my god—"

his whole body trembled beneath you, and then—

his hips jerked up sharply, one last, desperate movement before he broke.

a wrecked, helpless groan tore from his throat as his body shuddered, the tension snapping all at once, pleasure flooding through him so fast and hard he couldn’t even breathe. his hands scrambled against your waist, like he was trying to hold onto something—onto you—as his body rode out every pulse, every wave, every moment of pure, overwhelming sensation.

you were both breathing hard, your bodies still pressed flush together, the weight of what had just happened sinking in way too fast.

felix was the first to break the silence.

"oh, shit." his voice was hoarse, wrecked, almost disbelieving. his eyes flickered open, his pupils blown wide as he stared up at you, his lips parted slightly, his breath still shaky. "did we just—?"

your face burned so hot you thought you might actually die.

you let out a tiny, strangled whine, immediately dropping your forehead against his shoulder. "don’t talk about it."

felix peeked through his fingers, his ears completely red. "i literally just—"

"felix."

"—in my pants."

"felix, stop!”

day 6 - 14:00

ever since what happened that morning, you’d been all over felix. your fingers drifted to him constantly—tugging at the hem of his shirt when he stood next to you, absentmindedly smoothing a wrinkle in his sleeve just for an excuse to touch him. you bumped into him more than strictly necessary, brushing against his arm, nudging his knee under the table, leaning in closer than needed just to hear him speak.

and the worst part? you weren’t even trying to be subtle about it.

you had a spring in your step, a glow on your face, and constantly clinging to felix like a koala on a eucalyptus binge, you still would’ve been exposed. the world looked better, food tasted better, even the birds sounded less annoying.

and felix knew.

oh, he knew.

he hadn’t said a word about it, hadn’t teased you—not outright, anyway—but the way his lips twitched whenever you reached for him, the way his fingers skimmed the small of your back just to watch you shiver, the way he leaned in close when he talked to you, his voice a little lower than usual—yeah. he was enjoying this. way too much.

when jake heard chris was here, he and his sister invited the three of you onto his yacht again for a drink in the afternoon.

the sun hung lazily in the sky, casting golden streaks over the calm water as the yacht rocked gently beneath your feet. the salty breeze tousled your hair, warm and steady, carrying the distant laughter of other boats scattered across the bay. jake had gone all out again—bottles of expensive liquor lined up on the sleek white deck, cushions thrown carelessly across the built-in seating, music humming low from the speakers.

chris was leaning against the railing, a drink in hand, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he talked to emma, the girl who was secretly—not so secretly—obsessed with him. felix stood beside you near the snack table, surveying the fruit with all the seriousness of a man making a high-stakes decision. felix took a blueberry from the bowl and popped it into his mouth. then, without missing a beat, he grabbed another one and held it up to your lips.

“here,” he said, voice warm.

you smiled at the gesture, the simple sweetness of it making your chest feel just a little lighter. “thank you.” you whispered with a smile

you leaned in to take it, and right before you could, he swiftly ate it himself, just like he did on the first day.

the audacity.

you stared at him, deadpan, as he chewed with the utmost satisfaction. “felix.”

he grinned. “what?”

“you just—” you gestured vaguely at his mouth, betrayed.

“i was taste-testing,” he said, completely unbothered. “quality control.”

“oh, were you?”

“yeah. very important.” he reached for another blueberry, holding it up again. “okay, this one’s definitely for you.”

you narrowed your eyes but leaned in anyway—

and at the last second, he popped that one into his mouth too which prompted you to lightly smack his arm. 

he just laughed, dimples on full display, looking way too pleased with himself. “okay, okay, i’m sorry,” he said, still chuckling as he grabbed another blueberry. this time, he held it up properly. “here. for real this time, i promise.”

you eyed him suspiciously. “mm-hmm. sure.”

“i mean it.” his lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh again. “scout’s honor.”

“stop saying that,” you commented while laughing. you just shook your head, reaching for a blueberry yourself instead and you put it into your mouth, watching as his face twisted into exaggerated offense.

“hey,” he protested. “i’m supposed to do that for you”

“too bad.”

before you could say anything further, his hands were suddenly at your waist, fingers digging in just enough to send a shock of ticklish laughter bursting out of you.

“felix—!” you squealed, twisting away, but he just laughed along with you, relentless as he kept going.

“this is what happens when you steal my job,” he teased, his grin absolutely wicked. “actions have consequences.”

you were laughing so hard now that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. finally, you managed to grab his wrists, breathless. “okay, okay! truce!”

felix grinned down at you, eyes bright with amusement. “say ‘felix is the best boyfriend ever.’”

you groaned, still catching your breath. “you’re so annoying.”

he just ticked you again, making you jolt with another squeaky laugh. “say it.”

“fine! felix is the best boyfriend ever.” you huffed, rolling your eyes but unable to keep from smiling.

felix grinned, victorious, then leaned in to press a quick, light kiss to your cheek. “damn right.”

felix was still looking way too smug, his hands finally resting back at his sides as you caught your breath, shaking your head at him. before you could retaliate jake’s voice rang out across the yacht, loud and animated.

“i’m just fucking saying,” he declared, waving his drink for emphasis and very nearly sloshing it over the side of the boat. “if a dude orders a mojito at a dive bar, you know he’s about to say some unhinged shit. like, ‘oh, you have house-made mint syrup? yeah, my ex-girlfriend faked her own death and now lives in ohio under the name barbara.’” you turned your head just in time to see him take a dramatic sip of his whiskey, his eyes narrowing in deep, suspicious thought. “ohio, man,” he muttered. “that’s where people go when they wanna disappear. it’s sketchy as fuck.”

you shot felix a look before subtly jerking your head toward jake and the rest of the group, silently communicating the obvious. felix smiled, nodding in agreement, and the two of you made your way over. you sank onto the cushioned yacht seating, stretching out comfortably, while felix dropped down beside you, his arm naturally resting along the back of the couch behind you.

jake, meanwhile, was deep in his rant, his drink dangerously close to sloshing over as he gestured wildly. “i swear,” he continued, eyes slightly glazed over, “if you ever meet a guy who just casually brings up ohio in conversation, run. run. that man has secrets.”

emma, sitting across from him, sipped her drink with a look of pure amusement. “what if he’s just from ohio?”

jake scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “then he’s seen some shit. probably involved in a disappearance or two. i don’t make the rules.”

felix chuckled, shaking his head. “you talk like you’ve got firsthand experience.”

jake turned to him immediately, pointing. “i fucking do, man!” he leaned in like he was about to drop the biggest revelation of his life. “there was this one time—i shit you not—i met a dude named doug in a cincinnati parking lot at three in the morning. guy had, like, thirty-five thousand dollars in cash and a single pet bird in his car. he told me he was ‘starting over.’” jake sat back, shaking his head as if the memory still haunted him. “a pet bird, dude. you don’t run away from your past and keep a fucking parrot.”

“okay, but seriously,” felix said, tilting his head at jake. “why are you in the states so often, anyway? i swear, every time we talk, you’re either talking about l.a., new york, or apparently—" he gestured vaguely, "sketchy-ass ohio."

jake smirked, swirling the ice in his drink. “ah, mate, it’s ‘cause i’m internationally beloved.” he spread his arms wide, like he was some kind of goddamn celebrity, and took a lazy sip of whiskey before adding, “and because i have horrible financial habits.”

felix huffed a laugh beside you. “yeah, no shit.”

chris chimed in dryly, “you know, most people go to america for, like, work or actual business. you just seem to fuck around.”

jake pointed his glass at him. “hey, fucking rude, mate. i do business.”

jenny snorted from her seat. “no, you don’t.”

jake gasped, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. “wow. my own blood turning against me?” he shook his head, muttering, “i do business, you know. i dabble.”

chris lifted a brow. “dabble in what, exactly?”

jake grinned. “having a fucking great time.”

you rolled your eyes, kicking his foot lightly. “so you are just fucking around.”

jake rolled his eyes, leaning back into the cushions as he took another sip of his whiskey. “whatever, you lot just don’t appreciate my lifestyle.” then, as if the thought had just struck him, he turned his attention to felix. “yo, felix—your ex, the one you were dating a year ago, she was from the states, yeah?”

felix, who had been lounging comfortably beside you, suddenly stiffened. it was slight—just a brief pause, a barely-there shift in his posture—but you felt it. his fingers, which had been idly drumming against the cushion behind you, went still.

chris tensed, too, his expression going from vaguely amused to carefully neutral in an instant.

jake, oblivious as ever, kept going. “where was she from? hopefully not ohio.”

felix cleared his throat. “uh—” he glanced at chris briefly before giving a tight smile. “boston. she was from boston.”

you frowned slightly, glancing between the three of them. that reaction was… weird. it wasn’t like felix to get cagey about anything—especially something as minor as an ex’s hometown.

jake, completely unaware of the sudden shift in energy, just grinned and lifted his glass. “if there’s one good thing about the states, it’s the women, right?” he let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “absolutely unreal over there.”

felix let out a stiff chuckle, barely more than a breath, and took a long sip of his drink. you felt the way his shoulders remained tense, the way his fingers twitched slightly before stilling altogether. he wasn’t looking at anyone in particular now, just staring down at his glass like it held all the answers to life’s problems.

chris, meanwhile, didn’t say a word. he just shifted slightly, looking down at his own drink with a jaw so tight you were surprised he hadn’t cracked a tooth.

you mentally scoffed.

as always, felix was not at all big on talking about the one girl before you. mabel. that name was barely even a whisper in his life. he had mentioned her maybe twice since you’d known him—both times in passing, both times vague, like the name coming out of his mouth did something to him. if you had ever asked anything beyond the bare minimum, he’d steer the conversation elsewhere with that easy charm of his, like she was nothing more than a minor footnote in his past.

but this? this just proved it even more. watching the way his jaw tensed, the way chris was doing a horrible job of pretending he wasn’t also uneasy, you weren’t so sure anymore.

whatever had happened with mabel, whatever boston meant to him—it wasn’t just something he’d moved on from. it was something he avoided.

and now, as he sat there, noticeably rigid beside you while jake kept rambling on about american women, it was clearer than ever.

jake let out a laugh, shaking his head. “man, americans, i swear. wildest people i’ve ever met. you date one, you know you’re in for some kinda ride, huh, felix?”

felix forced out another laugh—too short, too flat. “yeah. something like that.”

you forced a small smile, but your mind was already elsewhere. something about felix’s reaction stuck with you, settling uneasily in your chest. you weren’t mad—this wasn’t some jealousy-fueled spiral. you suddenly felt the need for some air. not because you were mad, not because you were overreacting to the mention of felix’s ex—but because felix was reacting badly. and that was what bothered you.

felix was open about almost everything—quick with a joke, always willing to tease, always so casual about life. but the second mabel came up, even in passing, he shut down, just like he did last night. and today had just proven that even more. it was the way he was still tense beside you, even as jake had already moved on to whatever nonsense was spilling from his whiskey-fueled brain. you just needed a moment to think.

so, as casually as you could, you stood up. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you said to felix.

he moved almost instantly, just the smallest shift like he was already prepared to follow you. he just assumed he was coming with you, like he thought you wanted him to. but you didn’t. not right now.

you caught his movement before he could stand and gave him a quick, reassuring shake of your head. “no, it’s fine,” you said, keeping your voice light.

felix hesitated, his brows furrowing just slightly, but he didn’t push. he just gave you a quiet nod, even though he didn’t look entirely convinced. as you turned to go, you let your hand brush over his shoulder, fingers trailing softly down his arm before slipping away completely. a small gesture, just enough to let him know you weren’t upset with him.

as soon as you disappeared below deck, felix’s shoulders stiffened. he tried to play it off, keeping his expression neutral, but his mind was already racing. his eyes immediately flicked to chris.

chris, who had been watching him carefully the whole time, just shook his head.

felix clenched his jaw, gripping his drink a little tighter.

then chris glanced toward the direction you had gone. a silent question that felix could understand immediately. felix exhaled sharply and nodded. he wasn’t going to sit here and spiral about this. if there was something wrong, he was going to find out. 

even if you had brushed felix off, maybe you wouldn’t brush off chris.

chris took a sip of his drink, then set it down and turned to emma with his signature smile, showing his dimples, his charm. “be right back,” he murmured, before standing.

felix barely had time to react before chris walked past him as he tensed, watching him go.

downstairs at the yacht’s bar, you leaned against the counter, swirling the ice in your glass as you chatted with the server—albert? alfred? you definitely didn’t remember, which was a little awkward considering he was the one who got you absolutely wasted the other night.

“so, you work on the yacht?” you asked, raising a brow. “like, full-time? or are you just here to see jake sim fall apart?”

he chuckled, wiping down a glass. “bit of both, really. pays well, keeps life interesting.” he smirked. “especially when i’m serving people like you.”

you narrowed your eyes playfully. “what’s that supposed to mean? the other night was my first time drinking that much.”

“i could tell. but you make my job fun.” he tapped the counter lightly, grinning. “and you still don’t remember my name.”

you opened your mouth to respond—defend yourself, really—but before you could, you spotted movement from the corner of your eye.

chris.

he stepped into the bar area, his eyes landing on you immediately. he didn’t even have to say a word—albert-alfred-whatever took one glance at him, and immediately moved to give you two space.

you watched the server disappear before turning your attention to chris, raising a brow. “hey.”

chris slid onto the stool next to you, elbows resting on the counter. “you good?”

simple. direct. no messing around.

you swirled your drink idly, letting out a slow breath. “yeah.” then, after a beat, you added, “just needed a minute.”

chris nodded like he understood, like he wasn’t about to push you for more than you were willing to give. “jake’s an idiot,” he said casually, like it was just a fact of life. “and felix… well.” he paused, tapping his fingers against the counter. “he’s felix.”

you let out a short laugh at that. “yeah. he is.”

chris tilted his head slightly, studying you. “you’re not mad at him.” it wasn’t a question.

“no,” you admitted. “i’m not.”

“then what is it?”

you hesitated, glancing down at your drink. chris waited, patient as ever, letting you take your time.

"i'm just... confused," you admitted, your fingers tightening slightly around your glass. you weren't even sure how to put it into words.

chris nodded, waiting.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “it’s not like i didn’t know felix had a past. we all do. but whenever mabel comes up—even indirectly—it’s like something in him just locks up. he barely ever talks about her, and i never push, but…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “it’s not just avoidance. it’s something else.”

chris was quiet for a moment, rolling his drink between his hands. then, finally, he exhaled. “yeah,” he said simply. “it is. and your feelings are valid, he should be more open, even if it isn't easy.”

your stomach dipped slightly.

that was the thing about chris—he wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things. if he didn’t think there was anything to worry about, he would’ve just said so. but the fact that he wasn’t denying it, wasn’t brushing it off like it was nothing? that meant something.

you leaned forward a little, lowering your voice. “chris… what happened?”

chris’s jaw tensed. not in the way felix’s had upstairs—not as sharp, not as closed-off—but still wary. “it’s not my story to tell,” he said finally.

you exhaled through your nose, nodding even though it frustrated you. of course he’d say that. it was the right thing to say. the loyal thing to say. but it didn’t make this any easier.

chris sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before turning toward you. “look,” he said, voice quieter now. “all i can tell you is… mabel messed him up. more than he lets on. more than you’d think. and felix, he—” he stopped, considering his words carefully. “he doesn’t let people see the things that hurt him. not really. he covers it up with jokes, with that whole ‘nothing bothers me’ thing, but when it comes to her…”

he didn’t finish the sentence. he didn’t have to. you swallowed.

“felix cares about you,” chris continued, his voice firm now. “you know that, right?”

you looked up at him. the sincerity in his gaze, the certainty in his voice—it was enough to make your heart clench.

“yeah, i know. i mean how could i not?” you said, almost scoffing at the thought that you could ever doubt it. “he’s the most caring person i know. he always notices the little things. he makes me feel safe without even trying, and he—” you stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “goodness, chris, i don’t know how to explain it. it’s just… like it’s second nature to him to care.”

chris was watching you now, his expression soft, a small knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“he always puts others first,” you continued, your voice quieter now. “like, even earlier—he noticed i needed space before i even said a word. he didn’t push, he just—let me go. even if he didn’t want to.” you swallowed, shaking your head. “i don’t know. he just cares so much. i’ve never had that before.”

chris let out a small huff, shaking his head in amusement. “damn,” he murmured, taking a sip of his drink before setting it back down.

you frowned slightly. “what?”

chris smiled, tilting his head at you. “you’re good for him.” his voice was warm, assured. “i mean it. and the way you talk about him—the way you see him—it’s exactly what he needs.”

your chest tightened, emotions swelling up all at once.

then chris’s smile shifted, turning just a little mischievous, a little teasing. “and,” he added, lifting his drink to his lips, “he loves you, you know.”

you froze, your heart coming to a complete halt.

chris took a slow sip of his whiskey like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in your lap.

your breath caught in your throat. “he said that?”

chris set his glass down, shrugging. “basically.”

your stomach twisted. “chris—”

he held up a hand. “relax, i’m not messing with you.” his voice softened. “he really does.”

you felt like the floor had tilted beneath you. like the weight of the ocean surrounding the yacht had suddenly pressed against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

chris saw the look on your face and huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “c’mon, y/n. you had to know.”

you blinked at him, your fingers tightening around your glass. “i—” you cut yourself off, because what were you supposed to say?

chris gave you a look. “he’s not exactly subtle. the way he looks at you, the way he talks about you to me.” he smirked slightly, but it softened almost immediately. “look, i’ve known felix for a long time. he’s like a little brother to me. felix isn’t the type to throw words around. but he doesn’t have to say it, because everything he does screams it.”

your throat was suddenly dry.

chris exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “and i’ve seen him go through some shit. but you?” he tilted his head at you. “you make him happy in a way i don’t think he’s ever been before.”

the words settled over you like a wave, rolling into your chest, leaving you breathless.

chris studied your expression, then smirked. “damn, you really didn’t know?”

you swallowed thickly. “i—i guess i just didn’t think about it like that.”

chris shook his head in disbelief, chuckling under his breath. “man. you’re both idiots.”

you rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make you suspicious. “so… have you two, you know—” he wiggled his eyebrows. “gotten really close?”

your body went stiff. “what?”

chris smirked, swirling the ice in his drink. “come on. you know what i mean.”

your mouth opened, then closed. heat rushed to your cheeks as the morning flashed in your mind—felix under you, his hands gripping your waist, the way he groaned into your mouth—

you blinked rapidly, clearing your throat. “how did you know? did felix tell you?”

chris’s smirk widened. “you just did. felix didn’t tell me shit, you gave yourself away.”

your stomach dropped. “i—” a high-pitched squeal escaped you as you smacked your hands over your face, absolutely mortified. “oh my god.”

chris leaned back, grinning. “only if you wanna say—when did this happen? felix just said you two were taking it slow.”

you shifted awkwardly, looking away. “this morning.”

chris blinked. then his eyes widened. “oh no.”

you frowned. “what do you mean, oh no?”

“was it bad?”

your mouth fell open. “chris—”

he winced dramatically. “i mean, first time stuff can be awkward—”

“chris,” you hissed. “we barely did anything.”

his expression shifted instantly. “oh.” then, after a beat, he grinned again. “guess i’ll have to ask felix for details, then.”

you gasped, smacking his arm. “i’m going upstairs.”

chris just laughed, shaking his head as you turned to storm away. but before you could leave completely, his voice softened slightly. “hey.”

you glanced back over your shoulder.

chris gave you a knowing smile. “felix will tell you he loves you, alright? i can see it. he’s itching to tell you. it’s only a matter of time before he does.”

your heart skipped.

felix loves you.

felix loves you.

felix loves you.

then why won’t he be open about his past?

day 6 - 19:00

you had a plan.

tonight, under the sunset, you would tell felix you loved him.

the thought had settled in your chest like a quiet storm all afternoon. after what chris had said, after realizing that felix loved you too—even if he hadn’t said it yet—you couldn’t hold it in any longer. you didn’t want to.

and really, what better time than now?

this was your last full day here. tomorrow, you’d be finished packing up, saying goodbye to this beach house and everything it had come to mean to you. the golden mornings filled with lazy cuddles, the afternoons spent chasing each other through the waves, the quiet nights where you’d sit on the deck with your feet propped up on his lap, listening to the ocean hum in the distance.

felix had shown you so much here—his favorite hidden cove where the water turned impossibly blue, the little bagel shack at the harbour, and all his friends here. he’d shown you how to skim stones across the water and how to make a bonfire without completely embarrassing yourself.

but more than that, he’d shown you himself. the way he scrunched his nose when something was too sweet, how he’d rest his chin on your shoulder whenever he was tired, how his fingers would search for yours without even thinking.

and maybe, if you said it, if you put it out into the world, he would finally let you see the parts of himself he kept tucked away. he would tell you about his past he never talked about, something he carried with quiet restraint. but maybe—just maybe—loving him out loud would mean he’d trust you enough to let you in.

and you wanted to say it.

you wanted to tell him you loved him while the sky burned orange and the waves kissed the shore. you wanted to see his face when you said it, wanted to feel the weight of the moment settle between you, warm and safe.

it would be perfect.

you were curled up on his bed, scrolling through the hundreds of pictures you’d taken this week. a snapshot of felix, kissing your hand at beautiful cove. another of him squinting at a bagel like it had personally offended him. one of your intertwined hands, his rings catching the sunlight just right.

you smiled to yourself. every moment of this trip had been carved into your heart, and tonight—you’d make it real. you’d tell him.

but for now, you just watched.

felix was in full gamer mode, legs sprawled out under his desk, fingers dancing over his keyboard like a concert pianist about to demolish a grand finale. his headset was crooked, one side slightly lifted so he could hear both you and chris, who was currently on the other end of the call right across the street, swearing up a storm.

“bro, you’re actually trash,” felix barked, his accent thick, laughter laced in his words as he mashed at his keyboard. his fingers moved with a speed you’d never understand, the mechanical clacking of his keys blending with the occasional pop of gunfire from his headset. 

a pause. then a wicked grin split across his face.

“boom! get fucked.”

chris groaned into felix’s headset. “oh, fuck off!” although you couldn’t hear it, you could imagine how furious he was. 

felix only laughed harder, head tipping back slightly, leaning back in his chair with that shit-eating grin he always got when he was winning. felix sat cross-legged in his gaming chair, completely in his element. his tongue peeked out slightly as he focused, knee bouncing, fingers drumming against the desk between rounds. he was so completely himself like this, and god, you loved him.

felix let out a sharp laugh, “maybe if you weren’t built like a bloody traffic cone, you’d actually dodge a shot for once,” he shot back, eyes crinkled at the corners, boyish and flushed with adrenaline. 

the headset sat snug around his messy blond hair, his black hoodie fitting perfectly against his frame, and the silver chain he always wore glinted under the soft light of the monitor. he looked so felix, so yours, and it made something in your chest tighten.

you pushed yourself off the bed, moving toward him. he was still half-laughing, half-taunting chris when you reached up and slipped your fingers under the mic arm of his headset, gently pushing it away from his lips. his voice cut off instantly. his head snapped toward you, eyes locking onto yours like gravity had just shifted, like you had become the only thing in the room that mattered.

everything else—the game, chris, the entire world—ceased to exist.

his lips were parted, a soft breath escaping as he took you in, the way you’d moved closer, the way your gaze flickered down to his mouth. his hand fell from his mouse, resting on his leg, but you could see the way his fingers twitched—like they wanted to reach for you.

leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, slow at first, hesitant, like you were afraid he might pull away. but felix never would. he inhaled sharply, surprised, but the moment his brain caught up with his heart, he melted.

a quiet sound rumbled from his chest as he kissed you back, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek. the taste of spearmint gum lingered on his lips, and the warmth of him—his skin, his breath, the way he was already tilting his head to deepen the kiss—made your heart stutter.

somewhere in the background, chris was still talking.

felix pulled back slightly, barely an inch, his forehead pressing against yours. his breath was uneven, but his voice—low, rough, like he hadn’t quite recovered—was steady.

“oi, chris,” he muttered into the mic, his eyes still locked onto yours. “i’m off, man.”

chris scoffed. “what? you scared now?”

felix’s lips curled into a smirk. “nah. just got something more important.”

“oh?” chris’s tone shifted, teasing, laced with that knowing edge only a best friend could manage. “ohhh.”

felix’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours, dark and shining with something that made your chest tighten, your stomach flip.

“bye, chris,” he said, dragging out the words just enough to make his point. then, with a swift flick of his wrist, he yanked the headset off, letting it fall onto the desk with a soft thud. 

you let out a breathless laugh, “you could’ve kept playing, you know,” you murmured. your fingers traced the edge of his hoodie absentmindedly. “i would’ve been quiet.”

felix’s hands found the bottom of your shirt, pulling you closer until your knees brushed against his, and his breath fanned across your face. his eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up.

“yeah,” he whispered, his voice low, almost like it was a secret just for you. “but i wouldn’t.”

felix’s eyes fluttered shut just before your lips met, his lashes dark against the warm flush of his cheeks. you could feel the faint hitch in his breath, the way his fingers tensed slightly at the hem of your shirt like he was grounding himself in the feel of you, right here, right now.

and when your lips touched it wasn’t rushed. it was deliberate. careful. 

his lips closed around yours like the feel of your mouth was something he’d been craving without even realizing it. you could feel the way his breath hitched again, his chest pressing into yours as his hands slid higher, his thumbs grazing the skin just beneath your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine.

the kiss deepened, his tongue brushing lightly against your bottom lip before retreating, like he was testing, teasing, waiting for you to meet him halfway. and you did. your lips moved in sync, slow but deliberate, like you were both trying to etch the memory of this moment into your skin. you felt his fingers tighten slightly at your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, until there was no space left between you. his mouth opened again, coaxing yours apart, and the gentle slide of his tongue against yours sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

you pulled away, but you didn’t go far—your forehead still rested against his, and you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, the ghost of his lips still tingling on your skin. his hands stayed at your waist, thumbs brushing soft circles into your sides like he wasn’t ready to let go. you pursed your lips for a second, trying to push it down, but the words slipped out anyway, soft and a little sad.

“i’m gonna miss you when i leave tomorrow.”

felix’s eyes opened slowly, and for a second, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. but then he exhaled, this quiet, almost defeated little breath.

“i’ve been trying not to think about it,” he murmured, his voice low.

you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh and felix smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek. his gaze softened, the sadness in his eyes tempered by something steadier, more certain.

“i’ll only be staying here with my parents for a few days after you leave,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, like he needed to touch you while he said it, like that would make it more real. “and then… once i get back to sydney, we can see each other again.”

the way he said it—like it was a promise, like there was no if in the equation, only when—made your chest tighten in a different way. you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of his words settle over you.

“it’s not just that,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “i just… i don’t wanna leave this place.” you glanced past him toward the window, where the faint outline of the beach was just visible, the waves still whispering against the shore. “i’m jealous you get to stay.”

felix’s brow shot up, and for a second, he just stared at you, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. then he let out a sharp scoff, shaking his head as a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“oh, wow,” he drawled, his accent thicker now, laced with disbelief. his hand dropped from your jaw to your waist, squeezing gently as he leaned back just enough to get a better look at you. “so it’s not because you’ll be apart from your poor boyfriend?” he arched a brow, lips twitching as he fought to keep a straight face. “it’s just ‘cause you’ve gotten attached to my vacation house?”

you burst out laughing, the sound spilling from your chest before you could stop it. his mock-offended tone, the way his eyes sparkled like he was enjoying every second of teasing you—it was impossible not to. you swatted lightly at his chest, but he didn’t budge, his grin only widening as he leaned in closer again, his nose brushing against yours.

“i mean…” you teased back, your voice soft but laced with the same playful energy. “have you seen this place? the beach is right there, and the boat, and—”

“oh, my god,” felix groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back with a loud, exaggerated sigh. “you’re unbelievable.” but he was laughing too, that deep, warm sound that always made your chest feel too small for your heart.

you watched him for a second, the curve of his smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and that ache in your chest shifted. it really wasn’t about the house. it was him. and he knew that. you reached up, letting your fingers tangle in the loose curls at the nape of his neck, and his laughter softened, fading into something quieter, more tender. 

“but seriously,” you whispered, your thumb brushing along his jawline. “i’m gonna miss you.”

“i’m really gonna miss this,” you breathed out again, but the words kept coming, tumbling out like you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. “i’m gonna miss the sunsets, and getting drunk whenever we’re near the sim twins, and tanning until i’m almost sunburned…” you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly at the memories. “but only because you were there. because you were with me.”

his lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything. he just kept looking at you, nodding, like every word was something precious he didn’t want to miss.

“i’ll miss falling asleep to the sound of the waves,” you continued, your voice quieter now, almost like you were sharing a secret just for him. “but only because it felt better with you next to me.”

you saw it before he even realized it himself—the slight glassiness in his eyes, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. instead, his chest rose with a shaky breath, and you caught the faint shimmer of tears welling up, clinging stubbornly to his lashes.

your heart clenched, and you whispered, soft and tentative, “felix?”

he blinked, like your voice had pulled him out of some deep, unspoken place. his lips twitched into a wobbly half-smile, like he was trying to hold it together, but it wasn’t really working.

“i—” he started, but his voice cracked just slightly, betraying him. he let out a breath, shaky and uneven, and scrubbed a hand over his face like that could somehow erase the emotion swimming just beneath the surface. “i don’t know why i’m getting so emotional.” his laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating. “you’re just… you’re such a sweet girl, and i…”

he trailed off, the words hanging there between you, heavy and unfinished. you knew what he wanted to say. you could feel it in the way his eyes searched yours, in the way his breath hitched like the weight of it was pressing against his ribs. but he didn’t say it—not yet. instead, he let out another shaky breath, like he was trying to hold something in that was too big to keep.

your hands moved before your mind even caught up, cradling his face between your palms, your thumbs brushing gently over the sharp edges of his cheekbones. his skin was warm, flushed, and the faint stubble under your fingertips only grounded you more in the reality of this moment.

without a word, you pulled him into you, guiding his head down until his face skimmed the crook of your neck, right where your shoulder met your throat. he didn’t resist. he melted into you like he’d been waiting for this exact thing.

your fingers moved instinctively, threading through his soft locks, nails grazing lightly against his scalp. he let out a quiet breath, the tension in his body easing just enough for you to feel the shift, like the touch of your hands anchored him in something safe, something solid. you tilted your head slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the damp skin of his cheek, right near the edge of his jaw. the salt from his tears mixed with the warmth of his skin, and the taste of that moment lingered on your lips.

for a while, neither of you spoke. the room was filled with the soft hum of the ocean outside, the distant cries of gulls, and the steady beat of his heart against your chest. but the sun was dipping lower, and you could feel time slipping through your fingers, faster than you wanted.

you whispered into the quiet, your lips brushing against his skin, “do you wanna go watch the sunset?”

this wasn’t just any sunset. you both knew that. it was the last one before tomorrow came, before bags were packed and goodbyes hung heavy in the air. you felt the faintest nod against your shoulder, the way his breath caught in his throat like he was still trying to find the words that wouldn’t come. but then he pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze.

his eyes were still glassy, rimmed red, but softer now, like the weight of whatever had been pressing down on him had eased, even if just a little. he nodded again, more certain this time. “yeah,” he whispered, his voice steady. “let’s go.”

you smiled, a soft curve of your lips that you didn’t even try to hide. felix stood up, his hand still wrapped in yours, and the warmth of his touch anchored you in a way words never could. then, without saying anything more, you both turned and stepped out of his room.

the hallway greeted you with the familiar creak of the old wooden floorboards, a sound that had somehow become comforting over the past days. the walls were painted in soft, sun-worn colors—sky blues and sandy beiges, kissed by the salty air and the years they’d weathered together. you let your eyes wander over the little details you’d grown to love in this house: the framed photos lining the hall, each capturing a different summer, the same faces smiling against the backdrop of this very beach. the faint scent of saltwater and sunscreen clung to everything, blending with the warmth of the evening air that drifted in through the open windows.

your fingers traced over the ridges of the whitewashed walls as you passed, each texture grounding you deeper into the reality of leaving soon. the house felt alive, like it had soaked in all the laughter, the whispered confessions, the quiet mornings and loud nights.

you reached the back door to the deck, felix’s fingers still laced with yours, warm and grounding. then, with a gentle push, you stepped out into the open air, and the house seemed to exhale behind you, releasing you into the waiting arms of the evening.

the door creaked softly as felix closed it behind you, the soft click of the latch sealing away the memories within those walls. the warmth of the evening wrapped around you like a second skin, the salty breeze rolling in from the ocean, tousling your hair and brushing against your cheeks.

the deck stretched out beneath your feet, its weathered wood cool against your bare skin. the soft golden light from the setting sun spilled across the planks, casting long shadows that danced with the rhythm of the waves. you took a slow breath, letting the familiar scent of saltwater and sun-soaked wood fill your lungs, grounding you in this moment.

felix’s hand tightened in yours as you moved toward the steps, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your skin. you both descended the wooden staircase, your steps slow and unhurried. there was no rush tonight. no teasing or laughing or sprinting to see who could reach the shore first. 

as your feet touched the cool, soft sand, the world seemed to open up before you. the ocean stretched out endlessly, its surface shimmering with the fiery hues of the sunset. the sky was a masterpiece, painted with streaks of orange and pink, deep purples bleeding into the horizon where the sun kissed the edge of the water. the waves rolled in slow and steady, their gentle rhythm a heartbeat that matched your own.

it was breathtaking—everything you could’ve hoped for and more.

you led felix a little further down the beach, the sand cool and soft between your toes, until you found the perfect spot. with a soft sigh, you lowered yourself onto the sand, the grains warm beneath you from the day’s heat. you patted the spot beside you, a silent invitation, and felix sank down next to you without hesitation, his knee brushing against yours, his presence a comforting weight at your side.

for a while, neither of you spoke. you just sat there, side by side, watching as the sun slipped lower and lower, half-submerged beneath the horizon. the sky burned with color, reflecting off the water’s surface in a dazzling display that felt like it was just for you two. the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore filled the space between you, a soothing, familiar melody.

you turned your head slightly, stealing a glance at felix. the golden light of the setting sun bathed his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, and the softness in his eyes. he was staring out at the horizon, his expression thoughtful, almost reverent, like he was trying to etch this moment into his memory.

“i’ve been thinking,” you murmured, the words barely louder than the waves. “about us. about how much we’ve changed this past week.”

felix exhaled a small laugh, shaking his head as he glanced at you. “you say that like it’s even a question.”

you turned, searching his face. “what do you think?”

his lips curled, soft and knowing. “i think it’s a given.” his gaze drifted back toward the water, the light in his eyes reflecting the last golden streaks of dusk. “on the first day, we barely knew how to kiss.” his thumb traced lazy circles against the back of your hand. “and this morning… we decided that we trusted each other.”

your fingers curled tighter around his. “i’ve never felt that way about anyone before,” you admitted, voice soft, like saying it too loud might break the fragile truth of it. “you just make me feel like myself.”

felix turned to you fully now, his brows knitting slightly like your words meant more to him than you even realized. then, without a word, he lifted your intertwined hands and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your knuckles.

the words left your lips before you even realized you’d spoken them aloud. they carried the weight of everything you felt, everything you had been too afraid to name until now.

“and i love you, felix.”

at that exact moment, the last sliver of the sun dipped beneath the horizon, plunging the sky into darkness. 

felix stilled.

completely.

he was horrified. not even speechless in the way someone might be when they hear something beautiful for the first time. no—felix looked like you had just ripped the ground out from beneath his feet.

his mouth opened, but nothing came out. his lips parted, pressed together again, then parted once more, like he was trying to form words and failing miserably. his pupils were blown wide, and even in the dim light, you could see the way his skin had gone pale, save for the flush creeping up his neck, staining his ears. his brows were drawn tight, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the tension ripple beneath his skin.

you furrowed your brows, the weight of his silence pressing down on you like a stone sinking into your chest.

you had expected something—anything.

a smile. a whispered, “me too.” 

even just his hand tightening around yours, reassuring you that he was here, that he felt it too.

but he did nothing.

absolutely nothing.

the silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, drowning out the sound of the waves, the distant cry of gulls, even the steady rhythm of your own breathing.

slowly, you pulled your hand away from his and his hand went limp.

you forced a small, reassuring smile, though it felt wobbly at the edges. your voice came out softer than you wanted, but you tried to keep it light, tried to reach for him in the way he wouldn’t reach for you.

“felix,” you coaxed, tilting your head slightly, “say something.”

nothing.

his mouth was still slightly open, his lips parted like he was trying to find the words, but none came. his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple moving with the effort. his hands curled into loose fists against his thighs, and you swore you saw the faintest tremor run through them.

your smile faltered.

then, slowly, it disappeared altogether.

the fear settled in first, threading through your chest like an unraveling string. not fear of him, no—never him—but of what this silence meant.

you searched his face for something, anything, but all you found was that same wide-eyed horror, that same frozen, deer-in-the-headlights look like he had just seen something he wasn’t ready to face.

“…felix?” you tried again, quieter this time, like maybe if you spoke softer, he’d hear you better.

the hurt settled in next, sinking deep into your chest like an anchor. you inhaled sharply, the sound almost too loud in the quiet between you. your hands clenched at your sides as you searched his face one last time, desperate for something—anything—to tell you that this wasn’t what it seemed. 

“i’m sorry,” felix whispered.

and your stomach dropped.

“no, felix, no” you murmured, shaking your head, like somehow that could undo it, could erase the weight of those words before they could settle in too deep.

you pushed yourself up, your legs unsteady beneath you, but you barely noticed. all you could feel was the aching pulse behind your ribs, the raw sting spreading through your chest like an open wound. felix reached for you, his hand lifting, fingers outstretched—desperate, pleading—even as he remained where he was, still sitting in the sand.

his fingertips barely brushed against yours, but you didn’t pull back. not yet.

“i’m sorry,” he said again, softer this time, almost breaking on the words.

your breath trembled as you exhaled.

“then say something, felix,” you whispered. “stop apologizing and say something.”

his hand tightened just slightly around yours, like he was clinging to the last bit of space between you. his lips parted, his chest rising with a sharp inhale, and for a second—a single second—you thought maybe, just maybe, he was about to say what you so desperately needed to hear. but then his breath hitched and that was all you needed to know. the last sliver of hope unraveled inside you as you pulled your hand away.

the night sky stretched endlessly above you, dark and infinite, stars scattered across it like delicate brushstrokes of light. it was beautiful—blissfully unbeknownst to the storm unraveling beneath it, indifferent to the weight of the silence you left behind.

you didn’t look back. you didn’t dare.

your steps felt heavy as you made your way back up the worn wooden steps to the house, the distant hum of the waves fading behind you. the deck creaked beneath your feet, the same sound that once felt comforting now just another noise swallowed by the ache in your chest.

inside, the house was quiet. you walked past everything—the hallway lined with framed summer memories, the couch where you and felix had tangled together, laughing over something neither of you could remember now. every space carried something, some fragment of him, some piece of you and him.

your fingers curled around the doorknob of the guest bedroom, and you pushed the door open, stepping into the darkness. you closed the door behind you, the latch clicking softly into place, sealing you in with the weight of everything that had just happened.

the bedside lamp flickered to life with a soft click, casting a dim, golden glow across the room. you sank down onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath you, and placed your hands in your lap.

and then—before you even realized it—your vision blurred.

tears threatened to spill, welling up faster than you could stop them, faster than you could pretend they weren’t there. a quiet sob escaped your lips as you brought your hands up to your face, pressing your palms against your cheeks. 

you wiped your tears with the heel of your hand, and your breath was shaky, uneven, your chest still rising and falling in stuttered, broken movements. you were almost angry. it was quiet, simmering just beneath the surface, bleeding into the sadness in a way that made your stomach turn.

because he had told you he loved you once. when he was drunk off cheap the night of the bonfire, he had said it. 

you were angry because he took care of you. last night, when you had woken up from a nightmare, body trembling, breath shallow—he had been there. he had held you, whispered reassurances into your hair, traced circles on your back until your heartbeat slowed. he cared.

you were even angry because chris—felix’s best friend, the person who probably knew him better than anyone—had told you that felix loved you. so why had that just happened? why did he look so horrified, so lost, when you said it?

your face crumpled as another sob broke free, raw and aching. you wrapped your arms around yourself, squeezing your own sides as if you could somehow keep yourself together. you then pushed yourself up from the bed, your legs unsteady but moving anyway, driven by something you didn’t fully understand.

you grabbed your suitcase from where it sat untouched in the corner of the room and dragged it toward the shelves. you had unpacked a week ago, placing your clothes neatly in the drawers, letting yourself belong here. now, you shoved them back into your suitcase with trembling hands, tears slipping silently down your cheeks, dripping onto the fabric.

it hurt.

it hurt so much.

felix was still on the beach, curled in on himself, the damp sand cool beneath him. the night had swallowed the last bit of sunlight, leaving the sky a deep, endless black, stars scattered across it like pinpricks of light, oblivious to the way everything inside him felt like it was caving in. the waves rolled in and out, their rhythm steady, constant—so unlike the chaos in his chest. his hood was pulled low over his face, the fabric bunched in his fists, like if he held onto something tight enough, he could anchor himself. but nothing could ground him right now.

because he had fucked up.

he had seen the way your smile faded, how the light in your eyes dimmed as the silence stretched between you. he had seen the hurt settle into your face, the confusion, the sadness, the way you had tried—tried—to get him to say something, anything. but he had just sat there, useless, his own fear strangling him. the deep, painful ache in his chest wasn’t just from what had just happened—it was from the weight of memories that still clung to him like a shadow, refusing to let him go.

mabel.

her name was a curse, a reminder of the time when he had believed in love with the same reckless abandon he’d once used to trust. his mind drifted back to that night with mabel, the night he had made the mistake of saying “i think i love you”.

her blue eyes had glinted in that same way they always did when she wanted something, when she wanted to twist him, break him just a little bit more. she had smiled, sweet and false, and as he sat there, trembling on the edge of her bed, she leaned in close, her breath warm against his ear.

“say it again,” she had whispered, her voice honey-sweet, but there was something darker underneath it.

“i love you,” felix had said, each word a strange, foreign thing in his mouth.

"again," she whispered, her lips curling into a teasing smile. 

he hesitated. a small spark of doubt flickered in his chest, but it was quickly drowned out by the overwhelming need to please her, to make her happy, to be enough. but as the words lingered on the tip of his tongue, his mind started to clear, and a knot formed in his stomach.

this wasn’t right.

but mabel didn’t wait. she leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear, and her laugh echoed softly through the dim room.

“do you need me to make it easier for you? because if you’re going to say it, i need to hear it loud and clear.”

felix’s heart pounded in his ears. the three words felt so wrong now, so meaningless when they were forced out of him. he could feel the pressure mounting in his chest as he forced himself to speak, as though the words were choking him. "i love you," he repeated, the words sour in his mouth, but he felt the need to say them, like some kind of duty, a demand he had to fulfill.

mabel’s smile widened, but it wasn’t the smile of someone who was moved, who was touched by the confession. no, it was the smile of someone who had just won, someone who had gotten exactly what she wanted.

her fingers fluttered lightly along his arm, her touch cold and distant, as she sighed theatrically. “i like hearing you say it,” she said, but there was no warmth in her voice, only a carefully veiled condescension. “now, if you really love me, felix,” her eyes narrowed, flicking up to meet his with that sharp, calculating gaze. "don’t you think that love should be about doing things for me, not just saying the words?"

her laugh, that soft, tinkling sound, was the final blow. she wasn’t cruel, not in the way that would make him immediately recoil. she was too careful, too precise in her cruelty. her words were always sugar-coated, like a gentle slap to the face, so that no one could accuse her of being mean. but that’s how she had always controlled him—by making him feel inferior, by manipulating him into believing that he needed to be more for her to love him. and the worst part? everyone else loved her. they saw the perfect, angelic girl who could do no wrong, the one who seemed to float above all the drama, the one who would smile at you and touch your hand, but who would leave you questioning every part of yourself long after she had walked away.

he thought she loved him when she’d tell him, with that same sweet, fake expression, that his insecurities were unattractive. that he’d never be good enough for her unless he changed, unless he made himself into something she wanted. he had thought he loved her when she’d turned every small argument into a war, talking down on him until he broke down, begging for forgiveness, even when he had done nothing wrong.

felix hadn’t told anyone about mabel. not his friends, not his parents, not even the people he spent the most time with. no one in his life knew that he had once been tangled in the mess of her, that he had spent months caught in the twisted dance of her manipulation.

the only one who knew, the only person who had seen the real mabel—who knew what she had done to him—was chris. chris, who had always been the one to watch over felix, who had always seen the cracks in him before anyone else did. chris, who had quietly become the one person felix could turn to, even if it meant acknowledging the things he tried so hard to bury.

he dragged a hand through his hair, his heart heavy with regret, with the sting of his own failure. it felt like he was drowning in it, in the knowledge that he had pushed you away when you had needed him most.

and he knew, deep down, that this wasn’t something he could fix with just words. he could apologize until his throat was raw, but the damage was done. you were already walking away, and no matter how much he wished he could take back that moment on the beach, it was too late.

he had lost you.

[monayen]

Ouuu maybe something where Sebastian finally snaps ( ´ ▽ ` )

there is like no fics about him x reader!

Hungry | Sebastian

➷ Paring - Sebastian x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - Noncon, fingering, choking, breath play, rough, mental break, unsafe sex

a/n - sometimes it hits me that im writing freakiness with a character who has de tomato smith chicken legs in his name. yes i'm still writing... inbox open for any requests or ideas, i love to see them still :3 (oh and if you like charlie from smiling friends i have a fic uploaded on my ao3)

Sebastian doesn't know how long it's been since he's had a good meal. His stomach aches for something delicious, and he can feel how his body slightly trembles at the growing malnutrition.

He's gotten used to a lot of things since his “adoption”, but hunger isn't one of them. The mush Randal attempts to give is questionably edible (and probably not safe for the human body) and Luther believes a “sustainable” mixture of bland, flavorless ingredients is enough to satiate.

The pressure in his head can also be accredited to Randal’s voice. He's lost track of what he's rambling about today. Something about ghosts, he deduces, and he much prefers not to listen. He just wants to go to sleep, he really does, but his throat itches and he's reminded that Randal has neglected once again to refill his water bowl. 

“Can I, uh, get some water?” Sebastian asks, interrupting the trainwreck-train of thought spewing out of Randal’s mouth. “I thought you got water like three days ago! You thirsty boy.” Randal cocks his head to the side and Sebastian can only sigh in response.

“I need it every day. Food and water every day.” It's fruitless to try to get him to remember, but his lightheadedness is getting worse, and he just wants to be properly taken care of. 

Randal shrugs, turning his focus to one of his dolls, tugging at the flimsy cloth arm before it completely rips off. A dark, small thing crawls out of the fluff, and immediately scampers into a vent in Randal’s room. He doesn't note it and tosses the torn doll to a shadowy corner in his room, probably not to be seen again.

“Eh, go ask someone else.”

Sebastian doesn't waste time to exit the room, already cycling to the next person who could actually listen to him. He grits, the ache growing in his stomach and head becoming almost unbearable. 

He just needs to find you, which… he doesn't actually know where you are. As much as he’s tried to understand this house, it's complicated and confusing. It brings him back to his thoughts of you. 

You're everything this house isn't.

You’ve been here longer than him, listed as one of Luther’s pets. However, you’ve seemed to actually gain some independence from that. Different from the adherents that are Nyen and Nyon, instead being more akin to a housemate. 

You also don't seem to have any of the… oddities that everyone else has. No crude whiskers or unblinking eyes. You’re allowed your own wardrobe, nothing like the frills and puffs he has to wear. It's almost taunting how pretty and kempt you are.

It’s actually a bit interesting how Luther could allow this, but he assumes you pull your own weight enough to be well fed and unbothered. Sebastian scoffs, how fortunate is that?

Both of you haven't actually interacted that much, and it only serves to add to that untouchable status he's framed around you.

You are in your own world, independent and capable of leaving. But you don't. You continue to stay and wander around the house without a care. While Sebastian is stuck as a poor entertainer at for a bizarre young man, scrambling for any chance of freedom.

Despite this, you don't actually torment him in any way that matters. His envy does run deep, but you're the closest thing to a saving grace right now. He knows the catmen don't really care, and Luther might just shoo him away like the nuisance he is.

Finally, after checking room after room, he spots you sitting on a vintage leather couch with an unmarked book resting on your lap that definitely would be hard to read with how dim the lights are. 

He hovers in the doorway, unsure how to start a conversation. His eyes also don't know where exactly to look, do you realize your skirt is riding up?

You beat him to say something, looking up at him through your lashes, “Hi Sebastian. Do you need something?”

You're as courteous as ever, offering a small smile that doesn't help at all to calm Sebastian’s nerves. 

“Do you have anything to eat?”

You set aside your book and give him a look he can't place. Now up and off your seat to get closer to him, he can see how your brows furrow and lips purse. Suddenly, soft hands grip at the side of his face, and he stammers reactively.

“God, you look terrible. You poor thing.” It comes out sickly sweet, the proximity only heightening the warmth spreading over his freckled face. 

“I–I know…” He sighs, not moving from your touch, “Please, can you just feed me?” 

It sounds pathetic, but at this point he's practically begging for something, anything from you. He relaxes when he hears you giggle, hands leaving his face. 

He sees you walk over to the nightstand drawer beside the couch, rummaging through it before pulling out… a stick of jerky and a juice-pouch, setting it on top in all it's glory.

It isn't much, but it's enough for Sebastian to practically salivate and let out a sound of relief. It could be stale for all he cares, as long as he can taste the added sugar and salt, he’s happy. He almost wants to jump into your arms and thank you.

“Ah, that's perfect–”

You cut him off, a smile planted on your face, “What are you going to do for it?” 

It catches Sebastian completely off guard, mouth agape, “What?” 

You don't falter at all, sitting on the couch as you stare at Sebastian’s shaking figure, “C’mon, you play with Randal all the time, don't you? How about we play something?” 

Sebastian doesn't know how to respond. He's tired, hungry, and growing frustrated. Your voice stays sweet and it provokes a realization, how stupid is it to think you of all people could give him some slack? You aren't any different than the rest of these weirdos, no matter how you hold yourself. 

His stomach growls on cue, and Sebastian can't seem to shake this feverish feeling anymore.

You notice the lack of a response, his face shaded by the dim lighting. Deciding to only poke him further, “...Unless, you aren't really that hungry.”

You don't realize how his fists ball on the side of him, teeth slightly gritting to push out his words, “Just give it.” 

A small laugh leaves your grinning mouth, teasing and like nails on a chalkboard to Sebastian’s ears, “Ooo,” You sing, “feisty!” 

Sebastian’s nostrils flare for a second, seemingly thinking something. He’s red, and his lips tremble ever so slightly. You stare intensely as he pauses and huffs before making his way towards the nightstand. 

“Another time.” He simply states, an unrecognizable irk coating his words. You don't allow this, grabbing his arm as he reaches out for the food.

“I said,” The same saccharine smile stays across your face, “what are you going to do for it?

A switch almost seems to flip in Sebastian’s brain. You don't get to comment on the deep redness that adorns his cheeks, before he suddenly grips you by your shoulders and pins you down on the couch.

Yelping, you trash against his grasp as he hovers over you. He's breathing heavily, his chest drumming up and down as you push your hands against it.

“W-wait!” Sebastian doesn't care about what you have to say. It's all stupid words, stupid words out of your pretty mouth. His head is still reeling, and he doesn't know where the strength to keep you down is coming from.

All he knows is that he's the one with control right now. Something he hasn't had for a long time.

“Stop moving!” He huffs, eyes wide as he grasps the bottom of your shirt and bra, flipping it up to expose you.

His movements are almost thoughtless, as if a ghost possessed him to cup your breast and snake fingers between your thighs. Thoughtless doesn't make it any less rough, and soon enough your bottom half is exposed too.

“Listen, Sebastian, you– you can just have it! I was only messing around!” You try to excuse yourself, but his hand remains groping at your body like you're the first soft thing he's had to hold in forever.  As if you're going to be ripped away from his hands at any second. 

His erection pokes at your pinned down hip, the fabric of his outfit practically straining him. “I don't listen to you.” Sebastian spits, nor loud or quiet. 

It's directly for you to hear.

More words sprew from his mouth. “You think you can just taunt me? Mess with me? Like everyone else?” They come out faster than you can respond, jaw hanging open to croak out any excuse. 

“Shut up, I don't wanna hear it.” He suddenly moves and flips you over onto your stomach, head pressed down onto the aged leather of the couch, hands forced behind your back.

“I need this.” Those words are whispered to himself, low and dark. If you could look at him directly in the face, you’d see the cloudy look overcasting his eyes, the sweat that builds on his forehead, and the furrow of his brows as he looks at your figure. The dim room isn't enough to hide you.

All you can see is leather and flipped strands of hair in your vision. Instead you can only focus on the sound of his deep, shaky breath. Along with the sound of him shuffling to remove his own clothes. He moves on top of you, lanky body pressing against your behind, practically caging you. So close that it's hard to thrash around. And even if you could, you'd only be pushing up against him more.

You gasp when he puts his skinny fingers between your thighs, spreading you apart with a swift motion. Sebastian doesn't waste any time in pushing his fingers inside of you, hunched over as he continues to whisper to himself.

The pounding of your heart is loud in your own ears, you're sure he can hear how it patters against the couch more when he decides to curl his fingers. You whine, almost unintentionally arching at how good it shouldn't feel. But it does, and he knows because he lets out a laugh, “You like this?” It sounds both mocking and genuine.

The leather muffles you, but you manage to moan out a “No–” to which Sebastian seethes at. He leans into your ear, fingers still pumping into your heat. “Don’t lie. You– you wouldn't be this wet if you didn't.” 

You’re unsure if Sebastian is trying to convince himself or you. The slight waver in his voice pairs with the hastiness of his fingers, itching to draw out more moans from your mouth. It’s impossible to ignore the several digits Sebastian pumps into you, him noticing how your thighs begin to quake and muscles tighten around his fingers. As quickly you're brought to the edge, Sebastian retracts. You whine at the now empty sensation, practically huffing like a brat. You don't even realize. Now his hand grips at your side of your hips, your own wetness uncomfortable on your skin. 

“Maybe you’ll like this more.” Sebastian whispers, prodding at your entrance with this length. It’s hard to speak with how he continues to push your head down into the cushion, though any denial would fall on deaf ears even if you could. He slips in too easily, practically bottoming out the second your tightness wraps around him.

Sebastian is all too loud, words and moans mixing into pure nonsense. You wonder why nobody has heard anything yet. The door isn’t even locked. He doesn't care at all it seems, too engrossed in the feeling inside you to even consider the consequences of being caught. 

Sebastian’s hand on the back of your head releases, and you think maybe he’ll let you turn. Maybe you’ll actually be able to scream properly for Luther with air properly filling your lungs and mouth not pressed against leather. He isn’t slowing down at all though, his hips snapping roughly against your ass. A hand snakes around the back of your throat and squeezes, your heart dropping at the growing pressure on your windpipes. 

Sebastian's grip on your throat tightens, the need to claim something, anything, overtaking him. He's spent. He's so close, and he's not about to stop now. He's on the brink, and the feeling of you tightening around him, the way you're almost helpless under him, only serves to push him further.

You can't breathe, your eyes widening frantically, and the only thing you can manage to do is grip the couch. The lack of air is making your vision blur as Sebastian continues to thrust into you, not seeming to notice or care. Your mind begins to swim, the dim room now spinning in your vision.

It's a terrifyingly intense sensation, being so close to the edge yet being choked, the mix of pleasure and pain leaving you feeling dizzy. Your body betrays you, arching and pulsating at the rapid thrusts. Croaking out whatever air left in your lungs, you come with a shudder, your muscles gripping Sebastian’s cock as he continues to pound into you.

Sebastian follows with a guttural moan, thrusts becoming more erratic as he reaches his own climax, shooting into you. The hand around your throat tightens momentarily, before finally releasing, sending you gasping for air. He practically collapses on top of you, his own breath heavy. 

He still holds you against the couch, though you wouldn't have the strength to move him to begin with. You feel the shuffle of him getting off on top of you, finally pulling out with a small groan and letting you at least get onto your side. He now lays beside you, body wrapped over yours. The couch barely fits you both, all you can feel is the heat of both your bodies and the sensation of wetness dripping between your thighs. 

Sebastian nuzzles against you like a baby. He looks exhausted, eyes shut and brows furrowed. You look to find any empathy—any guilt. It isn't there. If anything, he looks content. As if you both will stay like this forever. 

“You're right.” He murmurs, a soft rasp in his voice you aren't used to. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

[vivicas-dollhouse]

Crybaby

I wanna hear you say it.

Genre: dd-dne, smut

Character: jeff the killer, fem reader

Desc: you werent the type to go home with strangers you met at the bar, but something about him.. it excites you. Just one more drink cant hurt, right..?

CWs: rape, drugging, choking, reader is called "good girl" and "princess", crying, gaslighting? PNV sex, unsafe sex, implied creampie

If you are sensitive to any of this, DO NOT READ!! And don't come to complain in my inbox either. I do not care.

1.7k words, enjoy!

You didnt always go home with strangers, but he HAD promised to take you home in the morning. It was only one time, surely he was good in bed if he made you feel this good.

He pushed you against the stall wall, pinning you to it with his hand around your throat as he made out with you. You gasped into the kiss, feeling his tounge on your bottom lip.

“Thats it, good girl,” he mumbled into your lips, a phrase that sent chills into your inner thighs. He relased the pressure on your throat, letting you finally get a breath in as he trailed his lips down your jaw.

“Fuck, please,” you whispered, his hand down your skirt jiggling and digging his nails in.

“Come home with me, but let me buy you one last drink sweetheart, my treat,” jeff murmured, his hands sliding to your waist.

“Yeah,” you breathed, planting a final slow kiss to his lips.

And thats how it went.

“You come over to this side of town often?” He asked, cruising down the highway with a hand on your thigh. “The stars get really pretty around this time, we are far enough away from downtown that you can see them,”

You hummed in agreement, starting to feel a bit woozy. You knew you didnt handle your alcohol well, but that last drink seemed to be strong enough to tranquillize a horse if it was making you feel like this.

“Hello? You still with us space cadet?” Jeff teased, pulling down a long road.

“Oh uh- yeah,” you giggled nervously, feeling his hand squeeze your thigh and slide a bit up your skirt once more.

“You still down sweetheart?” He spoke, words flowing through your ears without really registering until a few seconds later. He pulled his car into a driveway, the large house seemingly empty.

“Of course, is this all yours?”

“No, usually my friend lives upstairs but hes visiting his mom down in Illinois,” he smirked, “means you can be as loud as you want,”

You giggled, going to step out the car, but you couldn't seem to. Your limbs felt heavy, like you were made of concrete. Jeff walked over to your open door, sticking an arm out for you to pull yourself up.

“You ok? You seem to be a little more drunk than i thought,” he laughed, pulling you out of the car.

“Just…. just dont handle my drinks well i guess,” you slurred, beginning to walk with jeff.

“Id say,” he smiled, locking the car. “Cmon, ill take care of you princess,”

Your heart fluttered at the name, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You stumbled up to the door, jeffs arm wrapped around your waist as he fumbled with his keys.

“Yeah? You like being my little princess?” He smiled, opening his door. The cool ac felt like heaven in the summer heat.

“Maybe i do,” you giggled, stepping into the foyer. It was a decently large space, cool and dim.

“Oh thats my good girl, lets get you to the bed,” he cooed, kicking off this old sneakers. “Feel free to leave your heels here,”

“Right, right,”

You stepped out of the stilleto, falling as you swayed. He caught you, steadying you as you kicked off the other.

“You ok? You seem kind of… dizzy,” he said, once again guiding you by the waist.

“I really dont feel great,” you muttered, head beginning to droop as you leaned into him. He guided you down the hall, seemingly feigning sympathy as he opened a door.

“Poor girl, ill take care of you,” he smiled, turning on the light in the hallway he was taking you down.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked, turning to look at his face. It was an odd expression, or lack thereof. It was a blank look, one with steely blue eyes focused straight ahead.

“Bedroom, duh,” he flatly stated, turning into a small doorway that he opened into a dark bedroom.

“I.. i dont feel so good,” you swayed, sitting on the bed. You watched him lock the door.

“Its ok sweetheart, just lay back for me,” he said, taking off his shirt. He was lean and toned, pale as paper.

“I dont know, im really.. really sleepy,” you swayed, laying back anyways. He came and straddled your hips, brushing a hair out of your face.

“You look so beautiful, shame to waste a opportunity like this,” he smiled, running his hand over your exposed waist.

“No like i really dont-”

He connected your lips, and you couldn't help but kiss back. You could still taste the cocktail he had ordered on his lips, a fruity taste mixed with vodka. It felt wrong, but you couldn't help but long for more of what he gave you at the bar. Those gasps against your neck, the flirting that left you flustered and ultimately convinced you to come home with him.

You whined, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You knew something was wrong deep down, he didnt seem nearly as drunk as you were, and he kissed you without any hesitation, just instantly straddling your hips.. was this really ok?

Your lips parted, hovering centimeters from each other, mouths both curling up into desperate smiles.

“Please,” you whispered, moaning as he went back in. Your plush lips clashed with his, the rough pressure driving your panties into a wet mess. You felt him slide one hand up your crop top, skillfully snaking around your body to unhook the garment. He strayed from your lips, kissing down to your jaw and neck. He sucked at the skin, nipping at every sensitive point.

“Uh, jeff,” you whispered, helping him with your bra and spreading your legs beneath him. You didnt know what you wanted, everything was becoming blurred and hazey, it was like your muscles were giving into him more than you were mentally.

“Shhhh,” he soothed, removing your top. You stared up at him, eyes unfocusing while darting around on his face.

“Jeff somethings.. wrong..” you hesitated, feeling him unzip your skirt.

“Shhh, itll be easier if you just relax,” he shushed, slipping his hand down your panties. You shuddered, making a pathetic whine as he wiped up some of your slick onto his fingers.

“Look at what a mess youve made yourself love,” he whispered, sending a chill down your spine. You weren't sure why but you felt stuck. Your limbs had slowly turned to stone, eyes drooping and mouth stuck agape. You were petrified, something surely had to be wrong. Maybe you were just really drunk, maybe sick. There was a pain in your stomach, a burning ache that grew stronger the longer that you laid idle.

“Jeff, i dont feel good, i think i need to go home,” you choked out, speaking quickly becoming harder and harder.

“Shhhh, itll all be over soon,” he groaned, removing his pants and boxers with a groan.

You froze as you watched him pull down your panties. “N-no im serious, stop,” you stuttered, watching him spread your legs and get between them.

“You sound so cute when you say that princess, keep saying it for me,” he growled.

“Wh- ah-” you choked, feeling him enter you felt more and more terrifying by the second. You gasped, the burning in your stomach being replaced with pure fear. “Stop, stop,” you cried.

He sighed as he filled you, a chilling smile on his face. “Thats it, good girl,”

You gasped as he began to move into you as you lay helpless, completely naked and stuck like glue to the mattress. “No, no stop it- fuck-”

He just stared down at you, seemingly enjoying the terror and helplessness in your eyes and getting hard over it. The faster he went, the more tears started to flow from your eyes. You gasped and whimpered against your will, brain so foggy you could barely register his face anymore. You mindlessly moaned with every push into you. You didnt know at what point he had wrapped his hand around your throat, you only realized it when you couldn't take it anymore.

“St…. stop..”

A burning slap hit you in the face as you finally inhaled some air. You cried out, the feeling of terror being overshadowed by a shameful pleasure deep in your core. You heard jeff laugh as you stared at the ceiling.

“Such a good girl, itll all be over soon, just keep making those cute little noises,” he groaned, his thrusting getting faster and faster. It felt like he was drilling through you, practically burning your insides alive.

“No, no, no- ngh-” you sobbed, attempting to lift your legs enough to kick him to no avail.

“Dont try- fuck- dont try to fight me, you asked for this sweetheart,” he moaned, losing the rythym he had followed as he rutted into you with all his force.

You finally broke down, sobbing hysterically as he began to slap you repeatedly. You could barely register the pain, you were fighting to keep your eyes open. Your head fell to the side as you felt a warm sensation fill you up. You gurgled, slipping in and out of reality.

“Please.. st…”

You sat bolt upright, gasping and frantically looking around. You were shaking, a fear you had never felt before filling you as you looked around. You didn't recognize the place, you were on a couch in a house that wasnt yours, the sound of bacon frying a room away. You saw jeff standing at the stove, fully dressed and looking at you confused.

“Hey, your awake! Sorry to scare you, you passed out on the ride home and i didnt have your keys. I wasnt about to go through your stuff,” he laughed, scratching his neck.

“I… what?” You cautiously swung your legs to the floor. You were fully dressed again, and there was no sign of that jeff in that…

“I must've been dreaming, i couldve sworn you…” you trailed off.

“Hm? What did i do?” He laughed nervously, lifting a piece of bacon to a plate filled with eggs. “Hopefully nothing bad,”

“Um.. it was nothing, sorry,” you smiled, standing up.

“You hungry? I didnt see you eat at the bar, so i made a big breakfast. I can just take you home too.”

You rubbed your eyes, shaking the.. dream.. from your mind. “No, ill stay and eat. Thank you, im starving,”

-----

Fic title

[loveundrwrld]

yandere ex bully’s yandere alphabet!

i got the template from this post :)

(cws: violence, mentions of bullying, mention of dysfunctional/abusive family dynamics, stalking)

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

starts out with verbal affection, praise and compliments- which are very intense off the bat, and he won't really scale it down. in his mind, you need to know exactly how he feels about you and why you are important to him. especially if you are not physically in his life... which is pretty likely. he'll also express his affection to you through acts of service- getting you glasses of water, food, etc. or, he'll try to "make you feel safe" by being around you so nobody dangerous can get to you.

to him, he can prove himself to you being nice to you and treating you well- so he's likely to come off as intense as he's very fervent in his effort. if he thinks his darling is more willing to be with him, he'll calm down a bit after a while.

he'll also express his affection to you physically with hugs, kisses, etc, but he'll keep that to when he thinks you are okay with it. he’s not good at reading his darling and he’s somewhat aware of that, so he’ll often mirror things you do to him to you thinking that you’ll be more likely to like it (like using the same pet names, kissing you in the same places, etc.)

Blood:How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

he understands that practically speaking, his darling could very well get upset or afraid of him if he really hurts people like he wants to. so unlike other yanderes he won't kill anyone behind your back. he might snap and hit people/beat people up, but that's as far as it goes.

however if his darling requests it, he can get very messy! he doesn't really have care at all for anyone other than his darling. so, if you ask him to kill anyone- including his friends- he will do so, easily. his only limit is that he won't want to kill his brother, and he'll likely become emotionally distant from you for a while if you ask him to do so.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

i think tanner is much less likely to straight up kidnap you. once he's reached a certain breaking point, he's more likely to just break into your house and just... not leave.

he'll only kidnap you if your living situation makes it impossible for him to do this without him being caught (such as if you have a roommate) or if your living situation is physically unsafe in some way.

he wouldn't straight up mock you though, he's really trying to avoid doing so. he wants to show you how much he's changed and how nice he can be for you! but he might show his impatience and irritation that you still aren’t hearing him out. he wouldn’t yell at you, but he would be blunt and passive-aggressive in some circumstances.

he can come off as cruel and insensitive though as sometimes he can be rather blunt without thinking. like, "why did you date that guy? he's such a little bitch." this side of him comes out more often if he's jealous.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

not intentionally, but practically speaking that's often how it turns out (see "Affection" above- he's not good at reading or predicting his darling.) probably ends up hugging and kissing before his darling would prefer, as he genuinely thinks that his darling is likely ready for him to do so.

he's less cautious about this if he thinks his darling is willingly in a relationship with him of their own free will... which, likely isn't what's happening. but, he will quickly back off with physical contact if asked.

he's a lot more blunt about asking consent for anything sexual though, and will likely just wait until you bring it up of your own volition. he's too worried about messing up your first time with him to risk anything.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

one of his insecurities is being seen as "soft"- it's why he became a bully in his youth in the first place, due to his deep seated insecurities with himself. he wants to be seen as a tough guy, like your guard dog or something. he wants you to think he's strong, and someone to rely on.

he also wasn’t the best in school, and struggles sometimes with things. so he also doesn’t want you to think of him as “stupid.”

he doesn't really want to be vulnerable, to show you that he's upset if it's not to show you that he cares about you. he'll say things like "i missed you so much" or say "i'm hurt that you did that" for instance, but will try to hide anything like him crying, nightmares, etc. basically to him, if it's not related to you? you don't really need to know about it.

his darling probably can guess as to what is going on a lot of the time though, as he can often drop disturbing facts about his childhood in casual conversations without realizing (as he genuinely doesn't understand how bad his upbringing really is.)

he also may act weird about some things and not tell you why- like huffing a bit in frustration if you offer to pick up something heavy for him or to calculate the tip on a bill for him and not explain why, which probably signals to his darling that something is up.

he'll close himself off a bit if you try to talk to him about how he feels about his childhood or any insecurities though. it takes him a long time to actually be vulnerable with you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

sad :,(

he'll be obviously visibly hurt but, to him this isn't very surprising. he expected this as a possibility. he lets you know that you can hurt him as much as you like if it helps you feel better! (this doesn't work the way he had hoped it would.)

he wouldn’t stand for being continuously hit over a long period of time though. then, he’d get impatient, as he wanted to get your trust in return the first few times. if he doesn’t get that, there’s no real point to it for him. it’s less that he’s concerned about his safety, moreso that he has his limits with his patience.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

not a game at all, he would not enjoy watching his darling escape. his goal is for you not to be afraid of him after all.

especially if he actually abducted you to his house or a secondary location- since he'd likely only go for that route if he deems your usual lifestyle too unsafe or something. do you really hate him so much that you'd go back to your previous life, even though he'd do anything for you??

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

well, the whole concept of his character is that he's his darlings former bully- so, it could very well be him bullying them as a child. he isolated them from getting friends when they were younger and made their school life unbearable.

aside from that, i think the worst case scenario would be a darling who already has a significant other. that would really cause him to snap out much faster than he would normally. possibly even before he really reconsidered what his relationship to his darling in the past was like, which would make him far less considerate to his darling.

tanner is a bit willfully deluded sometimes, and sees things in a certain light due to paranoia or jealousy- so he's likely to freak out from just minor signs that you are unhappy, and pin that on your partner mistreating you. he then used that as an excuse to threaten them and hit them.

even though he usually lets you go anywhere you please, he also might be more likely to kidnap and isolate you if you already have a long term partner you are living with. though just for a bit- his goal is that he wants you to forget about them.

to have a partner that the darling loves and feels safe with, only for that person to basically be terrorized by tanner enough for the partner to leave the relationship and then subsequently be forced to be around someone they fear and hate... that would probably be the worst experience for the darling.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

when he was younger, his older brother had given him little tips on what to do in a relationship- and it was geared towards him dating a woman. hold doors open for a date, carry your date’s bags, walk your date home... etc.

due to this, he has a specific view on how he wants a romantic relationship to be. he wants to take a typically masculine, provider type of role. he doesn't particularly care how his darling presents themself or what their gender is, he just wants to treat them a particular way, especially if they're in public.

(although, if your condition of being with him is that YOU take that role instead... he may be willing to reconsider his ideas ;))

does want to get married and live with you in a mutual, loving relationship where you feel protected and safe with him- that's his ultimate goal for the future.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

yes, he gets jealous. he'll often lash out against the person (not the darling.)

in very mild cases, he might just grumble and be blunt/passive aggressive with how he talks about that person around his darling.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

depends on the situation!

if he thinks you feel safe around him/are willingly choosing to be around him? very sweet, nice, and a bit flirty and affectionate.

if he thinks you dislike him? he's very desperate, clingy, trying to show you how good he can be for you.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

literally, with letters lol. he wants to let you know just how much your mind, and is all too honest in how he expresses just how obsessed he is with you. phone calls too until you block his number.

likely keeps to sending you letters and stalking from afar- until he thinks that you are hinting at him that you want him to approach you. in which case, he'll try to arrange a meeting through the letters he sends you.

although, if he thinks that you may need him being around closer for one reason or another (generally if he believes your current lifestyle to be very unhealthy/unsafe) he will not wait that long and may just... break into your house and not leave, so he can be there to supervise you a little.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

yes, lol. due to a combination of what i said earlier re: his insecurities with being seen as "soft" and him just generally not caring about people other than his darling... he acts VERY different with his darling in private than he ever would around anyone else.

at his job he's not smiling, he's very straightforward and isn't really friendly with anyone. he keeps himself from straight up mocking others (so he doesn’t lose his employment) but he doesn’t reign in his expression or tone much. he'll be clearly annoyed if anyone wants help or asks questions. around you, he's bright and happy to spend time with you, doing whatever you ask him to do.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

not the type to punish his darling! he's more the submissive type. if he's upset with you he may be passive-aggressive or distance himself from his darling for a little bit. if it gets really bad he'll get a bit catty and talk to the guys he works with about you behind your back. but he wouldn’t punish you as he doesn't think it's his place to do so.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

generally he lets you do whatever you want! it's just that a lot of the time, whether you know it or not... he will also be there. lol.

if in the extreme circumstance he kidnaps you, he's already on edge and nervous that this will cause you to hate him. he's not likely to do much other than to not let you outside or talk to others. but that’s for practical reasons, so you won't alert anyone to your current situation.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

sometimes he gets impulsive and emotional and breaks some of his darling's boundaries. but otherwise he's pretty patient! he's trying to be, he just gets caught up in his own feelings sometimes.

he can be a little easily agitated, though, even with his darling. he more or less is expecting you to have a grudge against him, but you repeatedly insulting him or yelling at him would make him a little irritated. he’d feel like you aren’t giving him a chance to redeem himself. he’s more soft when it comes to his darling being afraid of him, though.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

absolutely distraught and devastated if his darling died... he would be in a state of regret thinking he could have done something different for a long time, likely not doing anything to move past the situation for basically the rest of his life.

if his darling escaped though, his reaction would be much less drastic. he's upset, and he's going to put as much effort as he can to try and find you again, but he's not nearly as depressed.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

if he realizes that you are scared of him?? VERY guilty, deep regret. he doesn't like doing things that make you upset!

there really isn't any circumstance where he would willingly cut contact with you all together, though. is he aware that that would be for the best? sure. but he's way too far gone for that. to him, you're the only reason he has to be happy.

closest thing he'll do to that you space for a week or so (like, if you brought it up as an ultimatum.) after the week ends he’ll go back to you immediately afterwards acting needier than he was before.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

poor childhood upbringing, mostly. his parents were neglectful to the point of being abusive, and he was basically raised by his older brother, who was also a troubled teen himself and treated him poorly.

since he never really had a place to feel safe or appreciated, he wanted to be seen as the "toughest" guy in school as a kid. he wanted to feel powerful. this is what caused him to become a bully and fixate on you strongly- you likely seemed to be an easy target.

his lack of a proper upbringing also caused his yandere qualities later in life when he realized he wants you as a lover. he has a very black and white thinking due to a poor childhood- it's either you, or no one else. and, since he often feels like what he cares about has often left or been taken away from him- he is very obsessive over you, as you are one of the few things in his life that make him feel things this strongly. he generally feels like he has to "earn" a persons respect that is important to him, because that's how it was with his older brother.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

upset :( he doesn't like seeing you like that! it's a little unnerving watching you break down like that, he's going to try to be desperate to get on your good side.

if it's just isolating themself, though, he's not as worried. he just thinks that the darling needs some time alone and doesn't really think much of it. unless the darling is missing meals or something, he's not going to say anything.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

yep! he's pretty carefree about what his darling does, more just wanting to be around his darling rather than control them. you can have a job and a regular life for the most part.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

well, he can be impulsive if he's caught up with his emotions- this causes him to make some obvious mistakes that his darling can then use to their advantage.

for instance, it's pretty clear that he's stalking you through the letters he sends you, and he's honest about many things if you just ask him. he also offers to kill people for you... which, if you play your cards right, could lead him to going to jail.

also: very easy to manipulate. it’s really not that hard to engineer opportunities for you to be left alone so you can prepare for an escape.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

he's really trying hard not to, especially physically. he doesn't want to risk scaring or upsetting you at this point. the only thing i could see him doing is grabbing his darling's wrist too hard if he's pulling them- but he would have to be very caught up in his emotions for him to do that.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

he very much worships his darling and puts them on a pedestal. to him, you are kind, mature, and well-adjusted... regardless if you really are those things.

he's willing to do ANYTHING to win his darling over- and he's very insistent they give him the chance to do so.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

depends on a few factors. if the darling is already in a relationship? very quickly, maybe after just a month of stalking and seeing what the dynamic is between the darling and their significant other.

if the darling is in an unsafe environment or is extremely neglectful of their health, it would take even less time. maybe even less than two weeks- which isn't good for the darling, because he hasn't fully processed how he feels about the darling at that point, and will likely be much less patient or kind with them as a result.

but, generally speaking, it takes about about a year or so of him stalking you to get to the point where he feels like he needs to send the letters to you.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

pretty unlikely, actually. they might have breakdowns and definitely don't appreciate him being around, especially at first. but he's not likely to emotionally break them to the point where they don't act anything like themself, he’s not a cruel type of yandere to his darling. if they are so upset that it's extremely obvious to him, he will try to be nicer to them in some way or another.

[bluestar22x]

Boo!

Summary: You buy a mansion on the cheap having no idea it's haunted by the previous owner's friend

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (mature readers only)

Word Count: 5,900(ish)

Warnings: "Enemies" to lovers vibes (they annoy each other at first), recreational drug use mentioned, medical stuff, subtitle mentions of sex/yearning, ghost Dieter follows you around the house but isn't a total creep about it - he's just really bored and invisible, AU?, foul language, fluff

Author’s Note: This was created for Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge by @mermaidgirl30 - I already had the idea of writing ghost Dieter before this challenge, so I thought it was the perfect time to write it up. The theme I chose is "haunted mansion" for obvious reasons. I was slightly inspired by a movie some may or may not know.

xxx

You had bought the mansion on the cheap - hardly a million dollars despite the huge, modern layout.

Just outside of New Orleans, the mansion was only one of three you owned as an unusually successful author. One of the few that had gotten rich off of making a crime novel series that had later become a successful drama show that was still running after five years - a true feat in modern entertainment.

Your other two mansions were in Los Angeles and Denver, the first being your main home when working and the second being a winter holiday escape, a place where you could go and experience what winter was supposed to be like. You had grown up in Maine, and it hadn't taken you long after moving to Los Angeles to miss the changing of the seasons, even if you didn't quite miss the often dreary weather.

This mansion in Louisiana was supposed to be another escape, one close to a city with rich history and lore. Spooky lore, that was. You were thinking about writing a vampire series - what better place to inspire you than New Orleans?

Though you'd moved there specifically for the stories of monsters in the dark, you avoided the creepy mansions listed on the realtor sites like a plague. Just cause you were interested in writing it, didn't mean you wanted to live a horror-themed novel.

Your mansion was boring compared to the centuries old mansions and plantations nearby and far from any swampland. It was also only ten years old - a baby mansion that had little chance of having been able to attract attention from any supernatural beings.

Not that you really believed in them, but you were the type not to press your luck. Every time you had in the past, you'd paid for it.

However, the universe had to have been against you, as it often was, because after only one week in your new vacation home strange things started happening.

It began with misplaced items, something easy to dismiss when you were still unpacking and organizing the place. You'd set down a mug of coffee on the countertop and find it on the bar later on or, to your dismay, the living room end table without a drink coaster underneath it. You'd throw a fresh shirt on the bed and enter the bathroom to take a shower and find the shirt on the floor when you returned. You'd place the manuscripts on your desk in a neat pile and find them disorganized the next morning. Things like that.

Then after a month more concerning things started happening. You'd lock a door and find it unlocked minutes later. You'd hear heavy footsteps on the second floor when you were in the kitchen or living room downstairs and you knew no one else was in the house. You'd see doors creak open on their own when they hadn't done that before.

Suddenly the cream colored modern mansion felt unsafe despite the high tech alarm system being in full working order and having never gone off.

You took to listening to music almost constantly, attempting to block out the feeling of unease you felt when everything was quiet. What you thought was your irrational side screamed at you to leave, to sell the place and go hang out at your Denver mansion or return to your main home, but your stubborn, so called rational side balked at the idea. You didn't want to admit defeat against a haunting you were pretty sure was all in your head or had explanations that were not of the supernatural kind.

Then one morning, the day before Halloween, you wandered downstairs to find a strange man sitting at your bar, dressed in ripped blue jeans, a dark tan oxford shirt, and a pair of tan slip on sneakers. You also had time to note that he had a graying patchy beard, sunglasses, and a single gold loop earring attached to his left ear before the fear set in and you screamed.

There was a complete stranger in your house! An interloper! Whatever his reason for being in your kitchen was, it had to be no good.

"Holy shit, you're loud!" he snapped, jumping in his seat. "Why are you freaking out so early in the morning?"

He turned to face you and his jaw dropped when he realized you were starring directly at him. "Wait, can you fucking see me?"

"Of course I can fucking see you," you spat. "You're in the middle of my kitchen, seated at my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the police!"

The man rubbed at his temple, his head pounding, which was really unfair, he thought, considering his situation. "Lady, if I could, I would, you are the saddest company I've ever kept, but unfortunately I have no say in the matter. I was here before you and I can't leave. Believe me, I've tried."

"Clearly you haven't tried enough," you hissed, pointing an index finger at the front door. "Try again."

He sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically, though you couldn't see the latter action behind his shades. "Fine, if you insist."

He pushed himself away from the bar, sliding off the stool he'd been seated on, and headed for the door. He opened it and glanced back at you, finding that you'd trailed him with a glass vase in your hand.

At least you were a resourceful recluse.

He braced himself for the sensation of being catapulted back into the mansion and sure enough, as soon as he stepped through the threshold he felt whatever force that was keeping him inside push him back.

He landed on the tile floor several feet away from the door in the mess of his long limbs. "Oof."

"What the fuck?!" He heard you yelp and he groaned.

"Told you."

"What the hell was that?"

He stood up slowly and massaged his lower back. "That was what's keeping me from leaving, sunshine. Now that you've seen why I can't go, I'll let you guess how this situation began."

"A voodoo priest cursed you to eternity in here?" you guessed, purposely trying to come up with what you thought would be a ridiculous answer. You still were trying to recover from what you'd just witnessed. People didn't just get thrown by invisible forces, yet there was no realistic explanation for what you'd just seen.

"I wish," the man huffed. "But it's not a curse. Not as far as I'm aware. Well, maybe. Maybe some god thought it would be funny. But I'm pretty damn sure it wasn't a person who did this. I don't remember much, but the last thing I do remember before this was partying with a friend, breaking my one year drug sobriety with a dose of some pretty fine cocaine, and then waking up splayed out in the middle of the living room - a very empty living room. By the time I worked through my denial over what had happened to me, you had moved in."

"You overdosed?" you questioned, breath catching because that would mean...

"Yeah, that's what I figured," he replied. "I'm not one hundred percent sure about it. Usually I was always careful about that. But it's not like I hadn't overdosed before." He put his hand out - "Long story." - And sighed heavily. "All I know is I'm dead."

You covered your mouth in shock as you pieced it all together. "You are the one that was moving things, making noises. Did you do that on purpose?"

"What? To scare you?" He looked amused. "I wish I was that clever. Maybe I'd have better company by now. But that was just me trying to keep my sanity. You don't know how maddening it is to wander around a boring mansion all day unable to interact with anything, not even a damn spoon. I'm not good with isolation. Glad the practice paid off."

You walked into the living room and collapsed into your leather couch. "This can't be happening."

He took off his sunglasses as he followed you in and you met his dark but surprising soft eyes for a moment. "What's your name, anyways?"

He placed a hand over his chest and acted shocked, a little stung by your lack of familiarity with him. You could tell he was just being dramatic and didn't really care. "You don't know? Hint: I was an actor who was having a great Hollywood comeback when I died."

Your mind was blank. You didn't know a lot of actors by name, or by face for that matter. You didn't watch a lot of TV and movies, your preferred entertainment being reading. Your office walls were covered by filled bookshelves.

You shrugged at him.

"Dieter Bravo," he told you. "My name is Dieter Bravo. Almost everyone I know calls me Dee though."

"Do I know you now?" you inquired.

"Hardly," he snorted. "But I know you enough, unfortunately, no offense."

You rolled your eyes at him, annoyed. "You can't insult me then claim no offense. I'm gonna take offense. Especially since we've never even talked before now."

"Sorry," Dieter apologized half-heartedly. "I've just been going crazy and all you do is sit at your desk writing or read on the couch. And you seem to prefer it that way."

"Introverts do, yes," you said. "But I can be fun when I want to be. I'm going on a tour of the city tomorrow."

You didn't mention that you were going alone. You hadn't made any friends in the city yet. That always took you a while. Something that most actors probably had little trouble doing. People begged for their friendship or more, didn't they?

"Is it one of those ghost tours?" he asked. "Cause that would be ironic."

You held your tongue and kept your comment about him having used the word ironic wrongly to yourself. You were pretty sure that was something someone boring would point out. You weren't sure why you cared about what a dead addicted actor thought about you, but you did for some stupid reason. Probably because his untamed curly hair looked very tuggable and his jeans were tight in all the right places and you hadn't been laid since your last book tour. Handsome guys were your weakness. You weren't usually into jerks or addicts though. Losers, as far as you were concerned.

Instead, you let your mind wander to all those times you'd heard things moving around while you were undressed or in bed. "Please tell me you haven't been stalking me this entire time."

"Stalking is a strong word," he protested. "We're in the same house for hours on end. We have silently interacted, or rather been in the same room. And I might have been watching you, but only when you were dressed, cross my heart."

"That's comforting," you said sarcastically, but you believed him. No one with so much disdain towards your daily activities would have bothered to peep on you, would they? But he could be the type who didn't care if a girl had personality, as long as she had boobs, right?

You decided it was not worth the trouble thinking about. Not when you had no idea how to get him to move on, or at least get him out of your mansion.

"So, what unfinished business is keeping you here?" you inquired. "Last I heard that's the only way either of us is going to get some peace in the forseeable future."

"Ouch. Fair."

"Do you know?"

Dieter shook his head. "What unfinished business don't I have? My latest movie will never finish filming, my girlfriend broke up with me over the damn phone on my way here, I have no idea if Perry overdosed too or if he's still alive, and my family all hate me."

"Surely not," you said. "They just didn't know how to help you with your addictions anymore."

Dieter blinked at you. "I thought you didn't know anything about me?"

"I don't," you replied. "But I've had a couple relatives, not close ones, but still, they got addicted to painkillers and they wouldn't let the family help them, so my family got angry at them and gave up trying. You can't help those who don't want to be saved is how my mother put it."

"What if they wanted to be saved but didn't know how to accept help?"

The vulnerable question, seemingly uncharacteristic, threw you off. You stared at him and Dieter glanced away. "Just asking," he muttered.

"I don't know," you told him honestly. "Same applies. It can't be one sided. They would've had to find a way to accept it. But they didn't. And they've been buried six feet under for five years now."

Dieter nodded.

"I don't think I could help you with your family issues," you continued on. "But I can tell you Perry is alive, if he is the same Perry who owned this place as I assume. He sold me the mansion three months ago, a month before I moved in."

"That's good," he said, scratching at his neck. "I knew from your calendar and your phone that it has been six months since I died, but I didn't know if he was still alive. I can't remember him ever coming back. Maybe he did and I just wasn't...aware at the moment. Time is different now for me. And I think ghosts actually sleep too. Kinda."

"The realtor showed me this place," you told him. "Perry only showed up to finalize the paperwork at her office. Maybe it was too painful for him to come back?"

Dieter pursed his lips. "Maybe."

"Did that help?" you asked hopefully. "See any doors or light to go into?"

He barked out a laugh. "If only! But there's nothing. Guess we're not getting rid of each other that easily." There was a gleam in his eyes that suggested he wasn't as annoyed about it as he was before. It was actually playful.

"Too bad," you stated, smirking.

He chuckled. "At least we can talk now."

"That we can, so long as you promise not to keep watching me like an invisible creep while I sleep," you said.

"I do not."

"I've felt it," you hissed.

"It's hard to look away," he admitted. "You do know you drool, right?"

"Shut up."

x

After your first run in with Dieter you didn't see him for a few days, and you wondered if he'd finally moved on, but of course, no such luck.

You choked on dinner when he popped up next to you at the dining room table on the fourth day.

"Sorry, didn't mean to almost kill you," he said humorously, patting your back.

You felt nothing when he did it. Maybe a cold breeze, but nothing really notable.

"Where've you been?" you inquired once you'd recovered.

"No idea," Dieter answered. "I think showing myself to you all afternoon zapped all my 'spirit' energy. What day is it?"

"November three."

"Damn. Oh well."

"You going to use your newfound 'spirit energy' to find a way to move on?"

He pouted. "Said like I wasn't trying to do that before. And jeez, in a rush, are we?"

You huffed. Like he'd given you a reason not to want it fast. It would be way better for you both once he found peace.

"Aren't you?"

"Of course I am!" he shouted before pointing a finger at you. "But I'm not leaving before I give you this advice: don't wear jeans on the night of your death. You may think they're comfy, but they're not. Not after weeks, months in them. I miss my pajamas. My robe."

He sighed wistfully and you couldn't help but chuckle at him. "Alright, advice taken."

He whirled and phased back into invisibility, leaving you alone until the next morning, when he nearly made you choke on your breakfast.

x

Days turned into weeks like this, with Dieter spending minimal time with you as he made attempts to figure out what he needed to do to be free of the mansion, as he tried to make peace with the things that haunted him in hopes that resolving his unfinished business would open the beyond up to him, but slowly, the more hope he lost, the more time he spent with you.

It started with meals, watching you eat and participating in discourse that became less and less hesitant and hostile over time, turning into shockingly friendly debates and banter.

It turned out Dieter wasn't so bad to be around and he wasn't the loser you'd thought he was, or had been. One search of his wikipedia page and a few youtube videos had settled that for you. He had worked hard to gain his success, spending nearly a decade taking guest star role after guest star role, working in a bar when the roles and his money dried up. And when he did find a major role to catapult his career, he continued to take as many roles as he could.

He was known for partying hard on weekends, but he never showed up for work high.

He enjoyed comfy clothes on his time off, and especially loved wearing his light green robe, sometimes even going to his local coffee shop in it, but he cleaned up well for interviews and other important functions.

Dieter had a good reputation despite his addictions. It seemed like his fellow cast members always had nice things to say about him, even those who worked with him on the disastrous set of Cliff Beasts 6, which was apparently where he'd had his first overdose.

By Thanksgiving you were solid friends, and after you left for the holiday to visit your parents and home in LA, you returned with a souvenir for you both - a fridge magnet with a picture of the city buildings just beyond the Hollywood sign. You'd noticed Dieter seemed homesick and you sometimes felt it too. But you wouldn't leave New Orleans until Dieter figured out how to move on or until you were forced to. The magnet gave you a daily reminder of what it looked like.

As Christmas neared, Dieter began hanging out with you in the living room at night, watching whatever you were watching, which were mostly Christmas movies in December. He did it even when you watched Hallmark, though he'd roll his eyes and make sarcastic comments about the plot throughout those.

"They always fight and break up over an assumption," he rattled on more times than you could count. "Dumb ones at that. His jealous ex flaunts her a ring and says it is from him and the leading lady just bolts without asking him if it's true? And they said I needed therapy."

"You needed therapy."

"Well, not as bad as that bird."

Dieter couldn't leave the house to get you a Christmas gift, and you'd agreed you both would spend Christmas Eve, the night before your parents arrived to celebrate the holiday, just curled up on the couch together as usual, but that hadn't stopped him from giving you something anyway.

He'd thrown a box at you, unwrapped and told you to look inside and you'd found a beautiful charcoal drawing of you writing away at your desk inside. The sight of it made your breath catch.

"You did this yourself?" you questioned, stunned.

"Yeah," he replied. "It took a lot of energy out of me, but I got it done in a few days. I know we said no gifts, but I wanted to give you something anyway. You know, since I can't pay rent."

He'd expected you to laugh at the comment but you were too busy studying the image. He'd gotten every detail, right down to your blemishes. He'd put a lot of care into drawing you. It felt...reverent.

When you tilted your head up to look at him, you did it differently. You saw him in a new light. And though he was in the same jeans and shirt as he always was, you thought he looked particularly handsome in that moment, chocolate eyes hopeful.

"So, do you like it?" he asked nervously.

"I love it," you assured him. "But I...didn't get anything for you."

"It's okay," he said, "Free rent."

"You are the least messy roommate I've ever had," you told him. "But you've got to stop sneaking up on me and making the rooms cold."

"The temperature is out of my hands," Dieter said, shrugging. "Unless you want me to turn up the thermostat. I've mastered turning dials."

You smiled. "I'm good tonight."

x

You should've known better than to get drunk alone on New Year's Eve, but you did.

No, you weren't alone, alone, but you were the only one drinking since Dieter was not physically able to drink. And he should've been the last person you'd hang out with drunk.

Being drunk made you silly, made you excitable, and it also made you bold.

One minute you and Dieter were laughing loudly, and the next you were leaning towards him. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

You leaned in closer and lowered your voice, "It really sucks you are dead, Dee. It sucks because I really wish we could kiss right now."

Dieter stared at you, dumbfounded, but the shock quickly turned into glee. "We could still, you know."

"You've gotten good at making yourself more solid," you said, "But I can't feel you whenever you touch me, Dee. I don't notice it unless I see you doing it. That's the only way I know. By sight."

"Well, you've never focused on it before, have you?" he inquired. "It always takes me a lot of focus to hold anything, even a pen, for long, but I do."

"It may not seem that way, me being a writer, but I'm terrible at focusing," you admitted.

Dieter brushed your cheek compulsively and you smiled weakly at him.

"Can we try something out?" he asked.

"What'd you have in mind?"

He nodded at the couch. "Turn off the lights and lay down on your back and close your eyes."

You raised your eyebrows questioningly, and he flashed you a reassuring smile. "Trust me."

You did as ordered and Dieter took a moment to take your prone form in, peering through the darkness, and he noticed how your fingers were twitching due to your inability to ever keep perfectly still.

He couldn't believe he was finally going to kiss you. Two months ago he wouldn't have wanted to. He'd had bigger concerns, and you weren't his usual type.

But with time and forced proximity he'd grown to enjoy your company. You were smart, generous, surprisingly witty, and he'd always found you pretty.

He doubted he deserved you, he was certain you were better than him, but you wanted him to kiss you, and lately he'd wanted that too. He couldn't deny you.

He approached the couch and sat down next to you, leaning over you so his face hovered above yours.

"Try to clear your mind."

You nodded and did as told, doing your best to keep all thoughts at bay while your heart thudded in anticipation against your rib cage.

Then you felt his lips on yours. They weren't warm or cold, soft or chapped, and they didn't taste like anything, but you could feel the pressure of them. You could feel when he moved his lips, when he deepened the kiss, when his hand reached out to cradle your face.

You reached up for him automatically, your eyes still shut, and you could feel his strong neck under your hands, could feel the tips of his curls at the base of it.

There was something electric about the moment, and you moaned softly as you let the sensation consume you. The more you got lost in it, the more kissing Dieter felt real.

It was sobering.

You gently pushed him away and opened your eyes to find him gazing back into yours, a confused look on his face. "What's wrong?"

You shook your head as tears flooded your eyes. "I can't, Dee. I can't do this with you. You're dead."

"Pretty sure we just did," he said, wiggling his brows suggestively. "And if we can do that, imagine what else we might be able to do with time."

"I can't," you repeated. "Someday you will move on and I'll be alone again."

"I'll wait to move on only after you die," he declared. "Problem solved."

You shook your head again, harder. "That's unfair for us both and you know it. I don't want to spend my life keeping you a secret, and you don't want to stay cooped up in this house for another four or more decades. You'll go mad."

"Not with you here," he swore, his hand gliding down to squeeze your upper arm.

"I can't take that chance," you said, standing up. "I'm sorry."

You began to walk away, but in the archway to the hall you turned to face him again.

"You should keep looking for your way out," you told him. "Make it your priority again. Cause next week I'm headed back to LA. I've got a book that's going to hit shelves in three weeks and my editor wants to plan some last minute fan meet ups for when it does. I can't stay here while we're doing that."

You tried to avoid looking at Dieter's face but you still got a glimpse of the hurt on it.

He was so upset he didn't say anything to you back, and you told yourself silently that it was easier that way.

You climbed the stairs, quickly curled up in bed under your sheets, and tried to think about anything but him until you fell asleep.

You had no idea that when you woke up in the morning, he'd be gone.

x

Steady beeping was the first thing Dieter registered when he gained consciousness in the hospital, but it was far from the least pleasant thing about the experience. That had gone to the bright lights briefly, then to the uncomfortable feeling of his feeding tube that was pulled through one of his nostrils.

Dieter would never call waking up from his coma fun. It had been confusing and exhausting (he thought that was ironic) and he’d been sore from not moving for a long time, but at least that discomfort felt short compared to what came after.

He'd been in a coma for nearly a year and that had taken a toll on his body, along with the seizure that had caused him to go into it in the first place, a side effect of his long term use of hard drugs.

He had most of his mind right from the start, but his body was weak and had loss some of the connections he'd made as a child to do simple functions like walking and eating with a fork. Frustratingly, he'd had to learn it all back again.

His only solstice was that his parents were there every step of the way. They'd had him transferred to LA after he woke up and had regularly visited him in the hospital and Dieter kinda wished he'd heard them while he was taking his long sleep. What had they said to him?

Probably what they'd been saying since. His parents rarely missed a chance to tell him they loved him, that they regretted letting his addictions come between them.

"It was my fault," he'd told them, but they'd shaken their heads.

"We didn't go about finding you help like we should've. We gave up too fast."

Dieter didn't care about that though. He was just grateful to have them back in his life. To still have a life at all.

He didn't remember the fateful night that had led to his coma, but he was able to video chat with Perry on his laptop and his friend filled in the blanks.

They'd gotten together and Perry had given him all the cocaine he could ask for. They'd gotten comfortable on the couch and rode out their highs talking about the trouble they used to get into in high school. Then he had began seizing sometime after midnight and Perry had dialed 911.

Even with the fill in, Dieter felt he was missing something. Something important. But any time he tried to recall his night with Perry, he got nothing.

He had dreams though, often several times a week, of him patrolling Perry's mansion alone, of an attractive woman chatting away with him at the dining room table, of him kissing her in the shadows of the night, and those felt like the missing pieces, lost memories, but they couldn't be. He couldn't have been a ghost while he was in the coma, he reasoned.

But all the reasoning in the world wouldn't allow him to shake it off. Eventually he caved and asked Perry, who was visiting him after getting out of rehab, to describe the woman who had bought the mansion from him.

When he gave every detail he could think of, Dieter was flabbergasted.

The woman Perry had detailed sounded exactly like the woman in his dreams...

But it couldn't be, could it?

He decided there was only one way to find out.

As soon as he was back to full strength, he'd fly out to New Orleans and knock on your door.

He'd find out once and for all if any of it had been real.

x

He didn't mean to go to New Orleans on Halloween, but that's how it ended up - with him on an early flight to one of the spookiest cities in the world on the arguably spookiest day of the year.

He took a taxi to get to your house and hesitantly made his way to the front door.

How should he go about telling you he had dreams about you? To ask if you knew him when he was in his coma and was a ghost? What if it had really all been in his head?

There were several carved orange pumpkins on the front porch - jack o' lanterns - something he didn't remember you having last year, and they immediately sent him into a spiral of deep uncertainty.

She can't be her, he thought. She didn't decorate for Halloween last year.

It was kind of ridiculous to assume that just because you hadn't had Halloween decorations one year you wouldn't have them the next, but that was how much he was doubting himself.

He took a moment to beat down his nerves on your doorstep, shake it off, then knocked, not knowing if you'd hear it or if you were even on the same side of the house. Not knowing if you were home at all.

You were both shocked when you opened the door and found yourselves staring at each other.

How could it be? You'd assumed Dieter had moved on well over half a year ago, and yet there he was before you, looking very much alive and in a fresh pair of black jeans and an olive green button down shirt that was basically his tan shirt's twin.

"Holy shit, I didn't think you were actually real!" Dieter exclaimed.

"Are you?" you inquired. "Last I knew you were dead. What the fuck?"

He guffawed and you marveled at the way the skin around his eyes crinkled, at how they shined with life. His hair was more gray than you remembered, but it only added to how alive he looked.

"It turns out I wasn't actually dead," he explained. "I was in a coma. I woke up in a hospital bed back in January and found out I'd been unconscious for several months. I didn't overdose, but I'd had seizures from the cocaine I took. I had no idea that could be a side effect. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived, let alone had a full recovery."

You stepped outside with him. "And you've stayed clean?"

He huffed. "Of fuckin' course. I'm not a complete idiot. I'm not going through that shit again. Physical therapy was a bigger pain in my ass than any of the cravings could ever be."

You laughed briefly before your expression turned serious again. "That's good."

"I wanted to see you sooner," he told you, scratching at his cheek over the beard he still had, though it was more neatly trimmed than it had been the last time you'd seen him. "But I wanted to be fully recovered before I flew back out here, and for part of that time I didn't remember being here. Not even the night me and Perry hung out in the living room."

You folded your arms, nodded, and pursed your lips. "So how much do you remember now?"

You tried to keep your expectations low but there was a knife stabbing at your heart when you realized that he might not be able to recall much of you at all. Did he even remember your kiss?

Dieter smiled. "I remember us not getting off on the right foot, and maybe scaring you on purpose a few times."

You gaped at him. "I KNEW it!"

He grinned slyly and continued, "I remember how we used to talk a lot, and how that would drain my energy right out, but I'd always linger a little too long, until I had no choice but to slip into the darkness to rest for a while. I remember loving your sarcastic sense of humor and the way you lose your breath when you laugh too hard. And I...remember that night, when we kissed."

That had been something else. Unexpectedly titillating. It was by far the sharpest memory he had of that time he'd spent between worlds.

"I don't know if you remember it, but I regretted every day since that I said what I said that night," you told him, chewing your lip.

He nodded. "I remember. But you weren't wrong. You deserve to be with someone breathing, and I was really getting sick of being stuck in the house."

You chuckled but the sound was cut short when you felt him palm your cheek.

He was sooo warm. Real.

Your stomach fluttered when your eyes met.

"I thought I'd never get to say goodbye," you whispered. "All I wanted after I woke up to an empty house was to get that chance. But this, this is so much better."

"I missed you," Dieter admitted, drawing closer to you.

You beamed at him and he felt his chest warm.

"I missed you too."

He pulled you into a kiss, far more passionate than the first you'd shared, and you gripped onto his elbows tightly, fiercely clinging to him, almost afraid to let go.

When you eventually did, you smirked at him. "You're a day late for our anniversary, you know."

"First meetings do not count," he claimed.

"Oh yes they do," you countered.

"Well, excuse me for fuckin' forgetting to fly out yesterday. Pretty sure I still have some brain damage."

You huffed playfully. "Excuses."

Dieter shook his head at you fondly and kissed you again.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[rainba]

Stay Inside.

TWs/tags: death of animals, graphic violence, blood, mild gore (?), VERY dark content. Yandere.

AU/prompt where Luka and reader live alone together in a house surrounded by a forest.

Shout out to @ironicallyenraptured for inspiring me to make this! I couldn't get the idea of a creepy, more deranged side of Luka out of my mind. ╰(*´︶`*)╯

Reader is GN!

It keeps happening every night.

Hushed screams, gurgled cries, a gentle tapping at your window accompanied by howling winds. Every time the sun drops beneath the horizon and the moon rises into the sky, you feel a horrifying sense of dread begin to consume you.

Every night, Luka tells you the same thing. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll protect you.” 

“If you need me, I’ll be right here. Okay?”

His voice is always so calm and steady, so oddly warm and reassuring– you can’t help but nod and bury yourself in his arms. Every night, he always makes sure to hold you close. If he’s not cuddling you, it’s impossible to fall asleep.

You know deep down that Luka will do whatever it takes to protect you. When you’ve both been out in the wild, Luka has never failed to stave off predators that dare to hunt you two. Luka’s hearing is impeccable, his pink eyes are sharp, his reaction times are inhuman. 

So just close your eyes… Everything will be okay. The noises outside are just that: noises outside.

When all of this first started out, things were relatively tame. Weird sounds, strange scratching at your windows, etc. There was no need to think too much of it.

But over time, things started getting… Weirder, to put it lightly. 

Instead of faint markings, deep claw marks started appearing on the house’s outdoor walls. The trash can outside your property was always a disaster, your front door was starting to come off of its hinges, and the ghastly screams outside began to echo louder through the night. Paranoia started to creep into your mind– the once tame forest that surrounds you is now an endless sea of nightmares. A death trap, even.

What could possibly be out there in the woods? Is it a monster doing all of this? A pack of wild, rabid animals? A human...?

When Luka is away from the house, you can’t bear the thought of stepping outside. What if there truly is some sort of creature out there in the forest– a grotesque monster that’s waiting for you to go outside, waiting for you to be all alone and vulnerable? You don’t want to risk anything.

When Luka isn’t around, you can’t help but barricade the doors and lock all of the windows. The howls at night have grown louder still; the destruction of your property has spiraled out of control. You tell Luka over and over again that you feel unsafe, but he just plainly tells you not to worry about it.

“Nothing will hurt you when I’m next to you,” he whispers while kissing your forehead. “No creature will dare lay a finger on you.”

Typically, you manage to sleep without interruptions, never once waking up until the morning comes. However, there are some nights where you do wake up, and usually Luka is missing.

Groggily, you rise up from the bed and go searching for him, feeling unsafe when you’re not wrapped up in his strong arms. Most of the time, he manages to sneak out from around a corner, and he always asks you what you’re doing.

His gaze is sharper than normal– his tone dark and deadly serious.

“I just wanted to find you…” 

When you mumble those words, he lightens up, and sighs.

“...Let’s get you back to bed.”

Luka will gently grab you by the hand and guide you back to the bedroom, tucking you in and lying beside you. He doesn’t leave until he knows that you’re asleep.

Somehow, things continue to get worse. There’s not just screaming outside anymore. There’re no longer just scratch marks on your house and trash sprawled out everywhere. No.

…Now there’s blood stains on your windows. 

And decapitated animals scattered on your lawn.

The first time you discovered the innocent little creatures slaughtered on your property, you fell over and threw up. The smell was fucking awful. The sight was worse than anything you had ever seen in your worst nightmares.

Those poor animals– those poor, innocent animals. Your screams and cries were impossibly loud. When Luka came rushing to your side, his eyes widened in both horror and disbelief.

But… Something didn’t seem right with him. He looked shocked and disgusted, but he didn’t act like it. His voice was steady and calm, just like usual. His body never once trembled with fear.

Luka guided you from off the ground and hurried you back into the house, quickly shutting the door and setting you down on the living room couch. He rubbed your back and wrapped his arms around you, placing your face firmly against his chest. He hushed your cries and comforted you for countless hours.

All you wanted was for this to end.

The stress is eating you alive– you can barely function in your day-to-day life. 

You can’t move out of your house– that simply isn’t an option. You can’t go out and search for whatever’s doing this, because you don’t have the strength to do so. The entire situation is so dire, and you’re just so incredibly helpless. But it’s okay… Luka will protect you. 

You start to cling to him like he’s your savior.

“Don’t go outside. Ever.” He commands, his voice never wavering. “Whatever is out there can’t get you in here.” The certainty in his voice was reassuring… However, you couldn’t help but question him.

“H-how do you know...? How do you know that it won’t just break into the house?” 

Luka’s ears twitch as his grip on you tightens for a split second. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say– but eventually, he comes up with a reply.

“Do you trust me?” His tone is deadly serious.

He didn’t answer your question. But even so, you give him a nod. 

“Then trust me when I say that it won’t come inside.”

After that exchange, Luka grabs a blanket for you and tells you to take a nap on the couch. He trudges outside and he cleans up the ‘mess’, then he cooks you your favorite meal, trying to take your mind off of things. For a few days after that, everything begins to calm down. The screams grow quieter, there’s no tapping at your window, and for a little bit, there’s a tranquil silence that settles into your home. It’s… Nice. 

But good things never last forever.

On a random night, you’re awakened by a loud BANG.

It’s so loud that it leaves your ears ringing– you jump up out of bed and tears begin to form in your eyes. Luka is nowhere to be found.

You have no gun; you have no means to protect yourself. Your gaze darts left and right as you cry out for Luka, but you’re only met with silence.

The shrieking and crying outside your house are now louder than ever.

You don’t know what to do as adrenaline shoots through your veins, sending your mind and body into overdrive. You jump out from the bed and dash down the hallways, calling out Luka’s name over and over again.

Where is he–? Where could he possibly be? Is he okay?!

He’s not in the living room, he’s not in the bathroom, he’s not in the kitchen. When you reach the front door, your eyes widen in horror.

It’s completely broken off its hinges. There’s a large pool of blood at the entrance.

Is… Is the monster inside? 

You call out Luka’s name even louder as you rush outside, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s not a single cloud in the sky. The forest is frighteningly dark. And the blood on the ground...? It’s trailing around the side of your house, leading directly to your trash can.

All of this is too much for your heart to handle. Without thinking, you follow the path of blood, tiptoeing and trying to hush your heavy breaths. You didn’t really know what to expect as you turned the corner.

…But what you saw was something you never would’ve predicted.

Sitting there next to the trash can, hunched over and drenched in crimson blood, is nobody other than Luka.

His pink fur is standing on edge. His eyes are glowing, his pupils are sharpened, and there’s a poor bunny squirming in his clawed hands.

And there’s flesh dangling from his mouth.

He looks up at you slowly.

“...I thought I told you to never come outside.”

Luka carefully rises from his position, dropping the innocent creature onto the soft grass below. The half-dead bunny is still kicking and twitching.

“Now you’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”

The shadow of his horrifying figure engulfs you. The moonlight behind him is shining so brightly, highlighting every curve of his beautiful body, highlighting the warm blood that stains his clothes. You open your mouth to reply, but no words come out.

“You think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

Your body is paralyzed with fear. You can’t say a thing. Is this... Is this truly the man you fell in love with? Is this the same man that swore to protect you... The one who holds you lovingly in his arms every single night?

Is... Is he the 'creature' you've been worried about all along?

With a sigh, he clicks his tongue.

“All I wanted was for you to never leave the house.”

And then… He smiles.

“If you step outside ever again, I can’t promise that I’ll be able to protect you from myself.”

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

FFDC part 2

Years passed as you lived out your new life, going to a successful hero school and graduating top of your class, soon to become ranked in the top 10 hero’s in England. The heartache of leaving hawks behind without a goodbye lessened the more you grew, tiny twangs still pinching sometimes when youd see birds of prey, or other flying type pro heros, but ultimately it had come to pass that time indeed healed most of your wounds, that was until your parents funeral.

It had been 15 years since you last saw them, the only feelings you had regarding them were sour and rotten, unforgivable memories plaguing your mind everytime they were mentioned. The reason you agreed to go the funeral? The little girl inside of you screamed at the thought of potentially seeing her future husband once again. It was stupid, selfish and childish, but that tiny part of you still begged to at least get a final goodbye.

It was late autumn when you arrived back in your home town, the air filled with sickeningly sweet smells of cinnamon, and glistening lights danced in every shop window. It felt less like the streets that dragged you up as a child, and more like a quiet quaint little town that bustled with children’s laughter and Christmas cheer. A part of it made you feel sick, made you jealous that you never had the opportunity to relish in this, but ultimately you were content, seeing the children’s faces happy, warm and safe in the arms of their loving parents, it’s was how every child should be treated as a standard.

When you arrived at your old family house, it’s dilapidated stature still remained as terrifying and unsafe as always, filling you with dread and anxiety remembering the countless times you’d run away from it all those years ago. The decor hadn’t changed inside, it was still a dull grey with broken furniture and old packages of food rotting away in the corners, stairs still stained with mysterious liquids, and the faint smell of cigarette ash and regrets hung in the air. It was dark, it was dingy, and it was once the place you called home. You shuddered as you walked the building, memories playing like an old worn movie, flooding your brain in fragments. Memories of hiding away from beatings, finding odd shells of your parents passed out chasing their heroine highs, and hiding spots you used to lace with stole food so you could eat. The only thing that stopped you in your tracks was when you knelt down to the side of an old cupboard you used to sleep in, and you found an old book you used to draw in.

The book was covered in tiny drawings of weddings dresses, wedding rings, baby birds, and the happy couple kissing on their special day. Youd tried so hard to draw his wings perfectly, countless scribbles over old designs as you never thought you could do them justice. The tears welled in your eyes as you scanned over the countless drawings, the feelings of love and adoration flooded your veins as if youd just stepped back into the body and heart of your younger self. You truly believed youd run away and marry your bird boy, truly believed youd save each other and get the final happy ever after.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the door behind you, causing you to jump to your feet, a fighting stance being your natural reaction because of all your years of training. There he stood, bright red feathers out stretched, arms wide and a devilishly wide smirk strewn across his face. He was taller, broader and infinitely more attractive, but the sparkle of mischief in his eyes still remained, your future husband, your best friend, the bird brain that you left all those years ago.

“No fucking way, hawks?!” You ran at him and crashed into his body, engulfing him with your arms around his neck, squeezing the air from his lungs. He softly chuckled as the tears welled in his eyes, he couldnt believe you actually had come back, but as soon as he smelt the faintest whiff of your scent in the city he knew exactly where to find you.

“God damn kid, I didn’t think youd actually remember me. What, it’s been three life times since you ran away. Fuck. It’s so good to see you.” He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you off your feet slightly, as his wings cradled your body, trembling as if they were scared youd leave again.

After embracing, you briefly reminisced about the last time you saw each other, then as the tears began to tell from your face, he offered to catch up properly, in a more decadent place.

“Wanna grab a drink or something? This place still gives me the creeps, I still half expect the police to come knocking looking for us.” His hand lingered around your waist still, shaking slightly at any movement of you pulling away.

“Yeah of course! The funeral isn’t until Monday, so I’ve got two days to kick around before I send them both back to hell anyway.” The smirk on your face did little to hide the anguish plaguing your insides, it may have been 15 years but he could still read you like a book.

“Cmon, I know where we can go.”

He grabbed your arm and pressed you close to his body as he took flight and flew you both towards your old cozy tree house. It looked significantly smaller and more weather worn that you had remembered, and the fact it was still even standing surprised you the most. He dropped you down and walked over to the secret back entrance you guys had made, pulling the red tattered fabric away exposing the doorway hed carved out for the both of you all those years ago. You both squeezed into the cramped doorway, and nearly fell into each other as you barged into the open room. It was now covered in dirt, spiders webs and drawings from all the years of children playing house there. It still smelt of woodland and lavender, memories forcing their way into your mind like a virus taking over your consciousness. You trailed your fingers along the scorch marks youd left, over the tiny drawings others had scattered on the walls, before you heard him lowly chuckle at something, forcing you to turn around.

He stood over a tiny bird drawing that barely etched into the floor anymore, looking down at it with his hands rummaging in his pockets. You met his gaze at the floor and laughed, remembering that this was the exact spot you promised to marry him all those many moons ago. He knelt down onto one knee and pulled out the tiny root ring you had made him.

“Yano what they say, if it’s been longer than 5 years you gotta re propose, so I guess we gotta do this 3 times then ey kid?” The tears welled in your eyes and the lump in your throat became unbearable. You let out an embarrassingly loud laugh at him, dropping to your knees infront of him and hugging him tightly.

“You fucking kept that ring? Guess you’re still just as much of a loser as always ey bird boy! God we were so inlove weren’t we, it seems like such a long time ago now, almost like it happened to different people.” He laughed and cuddled you back, putting the ring into your hand and squeezing it shut.

“Still got the letter too. Call me what you will, but it fucking broke me when you left. I didn’t even get to say goodbye…” he pressed his forehead to yours as he let out a deep sigh, reliving briefly the moment you got snatched away from him. “I remember reading the letter, I cried so god damn hard I thought my heart was gonna fall out my ass. I remember flying to your house and praying i wasnt too late but….i spent three nights sleeping in your old cupboard, begging for the chance to see you again. Then your parents came home and freaked the fuck out that there were so many feathers everywhere.” He laughed at the memory slightly, eyes pinched shut as he held your face in his hands.

“I still have one of them in my room back home Yano, I used to kiss it every night before I fell asleep, pretending that you could feel it. I was so lost with you.” You opened your eyes to look at him, his face pained and wincing at your words. You pulled back and wiped the tears from your eyes, clearing your throat and trying your best to smile again. “Anyway, enough with the sad shit, what’ve you been doing with yourself?”

You sat and talked across from each other, both cross legged as he relayed his torturous endeavours with the hero commission. He tried his best to downplay the events, but even through his evasion you could see how mentally damaging it had been for him. When he finished, he asked about your life, and as you relayed your story his face lite up that you managed to escape the abuse and were now flourishing. He seemed proud of the fact that you had a decent life now, forever thankful that he got to take the brunt of the disastrous events life had to throw at everyone, and that you managed to escape most of it.

You spent hours reminiscing and engulfing in past memories, laughing and early crying together,until you had realised how late it had become.

“Oh shit, it’s gotten so late already! We should probably think about calling it soon, I can’t remember the last time I slept in here, dont think my body could take it on these hard floors anymore.” He looked down, disappointed that your time would have to be cut short after only just getting you back in his life.

“Look,call me crazy,but did you wanna stay at mine for the night? My apartments huge and not too far away! You can have my bed and I’ll stay on the couch, it’s big enough to basically be a double bed anyway so…”

You hesitated slightly, unsure of if it would be inappropriate to just invite yourself into his life.

“Kei, I’d love to but, I can’t just waltz back into your life and expect you to do that for me. I’ve got a hotel planned and…”

He interrupted you, grabbing your hand tightly in his,

“Please. I, I can’t let go of you again, not just yet.” The sincerity of his voice soothed you, his vulnerability made hearts damn nearly dance in your iris. You agreed, what could one night at his really do? You knew youd both just stay up yapping all night anyway, plus, you really had missed his sweet charm and stupid face.

[shutit-haha]

Retired MafiaBakugo HC

Bakugo isn't that much older than you, he just acts like he is. His body aches sometimes, muscles spasming or clenching involuntarily. If he steps wrong his knee pops out of place and you've got to push it back in. There's bullet wounds you don't like to look at for too long since he only has them because of you.

Playfully you call him your old man, to which he responds one of two ways. On tired days: he'll sigh, hands reaching for you while he growls out an "I know."

On those days where he's feeling more like himself, he'll bark, face scrunching into a snarl. "I'm not old dammit! We're nearly the same fucking age!"

You especially like saying it while he's busy doing something. Like how he struggles bench pressing while snarling at you, or the one time he fucked up his measuring too busy arguing with you. You're just such a big distraction, can't think of anything else once you've gotten his attention.

Bakugo still acts like he's in the Mafia, he can't help it. You've tried to teach this old dog new tricks but he found his tricks transfer over real well. When ever new people come around he squares up and cracks his neck. He stares them down all scary and intimidating. He takes up as much space as possible when entering a room.

Your husband when not on the phone rest it on his crotch and inner thigh just like he used to with his gun.

He speaks to you without speaking to you. Blinks for just a second longer when he's about to lose his temper. You rush into conversations all polite and open-minded. Even though the conversations have moved from negotiations that could end in death, to "I'm surprised you do all the house work." Sometimes it just means you need to take a breath and let the argument end where it is.

He'll raise his pointer finger and beckon you closer with a curl from the end. He watches you carefully waiting for you to tap your finger twice as a signal to him. Though now it's only reserved for when you can't breathe while he's down your throat, he remembers it from when things would start to get unsafe. Your husband watches for that fake smile you give, flashing a single one of your fangs. You use it when you need to get out of places, this includes awkward conversations.

You've grown used to his paranoia. Checking the locks on the doors everytime he passes them. Keeping the garage key opposite to where the garage is. Occasionally he'll take a different route home just to see if that car was really following him. You learned not to get too attached to these houses after the third move, to which your husband promised was your last. True to his word you've lived stabile in this home just fine.

You've grown used to his nightmares, finger twitching in his sleep like it's still on the trigger. Groans that arch his back, and have him double over his stomach. He can still feel the searing pain that comes with the bullets. The ones that penetrate leave marks deep within his brain despite never coming close to his head. He only remembers them, because they're yours. Because the bullets were fired for you, shots that never hit but were supposed too. He was lucky enough to jump in the way in time, shooting out his rounds just moments before he was even hit.

Katsuki killed that bastard. There's no question about it. It was nice and slow, and he'd do it again.

[lapquang]

ASTROLOGY | CHIRON IN THE HOUSES (4/7)

CHIRON IN THE 4TH HOUSE Chiron in the fourth house represents a deep emotional wound, rooted in one's sense of family, home, and roots. This placement refers to the struggle to find emotional stability, when the foundations of the individual's life—symbolized by family and childhood environment—may be disturbed or damaged. Astrologer Ivy M. Goldstein-Jacobson compares this to a tree with twisted or broken roots, where finding stability becomes a lifelong challenge. Ancient astrologers such as Ptolemy, who saw celestial influences as both personal and karmic, explained this wound as inherited from ancestors. Emotional pain related to family can be considered a soul contract, passed down through generations. It speaks to unresolved ancestral issues, where family relationships or traumas become personal burdens. Babylonian astrologers—who linked the stars to the destiny of peoples—may have seen this position as a sign of ancestral pain, where emotional legacies are as influential as genetics.

From a spiritual perspective, as described by Evangeline Smith Adams, this perspective can imply a form of spiritual exile. The individual may feel pushed away or separated from the comfort of family, like Odysseus on his long journey away from Ithaca. This emotional exile prompts a profound search for a sense of belonging, often through healing family wounds or creating a new sense of belonging. The myth of Chiron, who was abandoned by his parents and raised by others, reflects this theme, emphasizing reconciliation with his roots. The Oedipus motif is also very relevant here. Chiron in the fourth house reflects this truth, indicating that unresolved family wounds will continue to exist until they are confronted. People with this placement may struggle with a sense of "belonging" anywhere, even within themselves. This can manifest itself through frequent moves or a deep sense of emotional disconnection from family, leaving them feeling unsafe or unsupported. Dane Rudhyar, known for his focus on spiritual development through astrology, sees this wound as an opportunity for change. He sees Chiron in the fourth house as an invitation to heal family rifts and build a new sense of belonging from within. Similar to how alchemists viewed chaos as the starting point of transformation leading to divine union, this position symbolizes the journey from emotional separation to inner emotional security.

CHIRON IN THE 5TH HOUSE The fifth house in astrology is associated with creativity, joy, and self-expression. When Chiron is present here, it represents a wound related to free creativity, whether that be through artistic pursuits, love, or even the birth of life. In the myth of Icarus, despite his talent for making wings, Icarus met with disaster because of an imbalance—flying too high toward the sun, then lowering too close to the sea. Similarly, those with Chiron in the fifth house may feel both gifted and cursed with their creative potential, unsure how to express it fully without fear of failure or rejection. Astrologer Thomas Ring suggests that this position often indicates an experience from childhood where creative joy is stifled or ridiculed, causing lasting blockage. This can manifest itself as a fear of failure in artistic endeavors or a shyness when entering into romantic relationships where vulnerability in love becomes too scary. In traditional understanding, the fifth house represents the "spark of life," but when Chiron is here, that spark is extinguished, causing self-doubt or untapped potential.

Chiron's experience in the fifth house can be compared to a garden that once bloomed but is now overrun by weeds, where creative impulses still exist but are suppressed by inner doubt, Past criticism or fear of vulnerability. This symbolizes the wounded artist archetype—someone who has great potential but has difficulty expressing it fully due to wounds left over from rejection or failure. In romantic relationships, this position can indicate emotional wounds related to romantic rejection or the fear of being seen through by others. These people may feel insecure in love, vacillating between grand gestures and emotional withdrawal, fearful of being hurt again. However, as Karl Ernst Krafft emphasized with his focus on the cyclical nature of creation, this wound often transforms into a source of regeneration. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, those with Chiron in the fifth house can experience a creative resurgence, turning their suffering into inspiration.

Chiron positioned in the fifth house represents the wounded inner child in pursuit of healing via creative endeavors. By acknowledging their sensitivity, embracing vulnerability, and confronting the possibility of failure, individuals can restore their creative potential. In spite of encountering various challenges, Da Vinci persevered in his experiments and ultimately created a remarkable work of art. The lesson here is that the pain of creating something meaningful can lead to overcoming the wounds that once hindered the individual.

CHIRON AT THE 6TH HOUSE Traditionally the sixth house is associated with responsibility and discipline, Chiron here marks a person who may sacrifice personal needs to fulfill responsibilities, often neglecting health or personal barriers in the process . It is related to health, service and daily habits. Like Virgil's Aeneas, who shouldered the fate of his people, people with this position often feel driven to serve others, sometimes sacrificing their own health to fulfill their responsibilities. In his foundational work on celestial influences, Claudius Ptolemaeus interpreted this placement as a karmic wound related to the body and normal aspects of life. People with this placement may experience chronic health problems, physical pain or psychological illnesses, all of which act as a form of spiritual cleansing, reflecting Greek beliefs - Ancient Egyptians believed that the body is a vessel for divine energy, vulnerable when imbalance occurs in the universe. These individuals may find themselves stuck in a Sisyphus-like loop, constantly pushing the boulder of responsibility up the hill, only for it to roll back down, trapping them in a spiral of overwork and self-neglect, often working in fields like medicine, consulting, or caregiving.

With Chiron in the sixth house, there can be a sense of never-ending vortex of responsibility, where no amount of effort seems to be enough, and health continually betrays them when strength is needed most. Perfectionism is a major theme. These individuals may set unbearably high standards for themselves, crave perfection in their work, health, or daily routine, and feel that they are only valuable when they produce tangible results. The body often becomes a battleground for unresolved emotional or psychological wounds, manifesting as chronic illnesses that do not respond to conventional treatments. Additionally, they may be sensitive to environmental factors such as diet, stress, and emotional states, which greatly affect their health. Galileo Galilei struggled with the constraints of rigid scientific dogmas, which represents the need for this position to be freed from overly rigid habits or beliefs regarding work, health, and service. The healing process for these individuals involves adopting a more holistic view of health. Carl Jung’s concept of individuation—the integration of the self—offers a path to healing where they learn to balance their own needs with their desire to serve others, ultimately finding peace within themselves and their work.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Since you like angst, here’s some light angst.

(Whatever skeletons you want)

S/o startles incredibly easily when people are behind them, seems to get very uncomfortable when people are standing too close behind them or over their shoulder. They will basically always check who it is when they see someone about to walk behind them in their peripheral vision. When the skeleton presses for a bit of information turns out s/o had been stalked and harassed as a minor and never got rid of the discomfort when someone they don’t know gets close behind them, and was never able to get rid of the habit to check who it is every time.

Undertale Sans - He notes that and is always careful to stay in front of you or warn you if he's behind. Sans perfectly understands. He wants you to be comfortable.

Undertale Papyrus - He's going to need a few weeks to adjust as he has a bad habit of sometimes hugging people from behind without a warning. Now he's careful to be vocal when he's here to not startle you, even if there are still some errors when he's excited sometimes. But he's trying to be better!

Underswap Sans - He's a fast walker so you don't have that problem often, but he still tries to remember that when you're walking in narrow streets. He usually apologizes for walking in front of you.

Underswap Papyrus - You're startling him every time you're surprised by him walking behind you lol. He tries to avoid it, but Honey walks very silently and he often forgets about this when he's anxious. You're both scaring each other lol. He tries to be better, but he feels safer walking behind people in crowded places, so he's not comfortable walking ahead of you. You're going to need to find an in-between way of doing this.

Underfell Sans - He feels bad after you explain this because he kinda thought you were just jumpy and had fun scaring you randomly. He tries to not do it now, even though the temptation is really high. He tries to walk ahead when he can now.

Underfell Papyrus - He's careful to walk by your side so you feel safe with him protecting you. He won't hesitate either to growl if people are following you, staring at them angrily until they cross the road and leave you alone.

Horrortale Sans - That's something that makes him very uncomfortable too, so he perfectly understands. He's a bit protective when you two are outside and he stops to let people pass you when they're too close behind to the point even him starts to feel unsafe. He distracts you with his purring as well when there's no way to escape, so you don't think too much about it.

Horrortale Papyrus - He tends to be very silent when he's walking around the house, so he bought a necklace with a bell so you know when he's behind you (or where to find him in the house, it can do both!). Sure, it doesn't help people to not stare at him outside, but if it can help you to feel more comfortable, it's fine!

Swapfell Sans - He can perfectly understand that since he was completely paranoid as a general Underground and had the same defense mechanisms. He can show you a few ways he learned to overpass this though. If you want help with that, of course.

Swapfell Papyrus - It's fine as he's not exactly discreet when he's walking around, so you more or less know where he is. He even wears bright pink sweaters now so that when you're looking behind, you immediately notice the flashy color that immediately burns your eyes and so you know it's him. He tends to make other people uncomfortable so it's rare anyone else walks behind you.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He holds your hand when you two are outside, this way you know he's there and that no one will hurt you because he will hurt the thing that wants to hurt you first. Sometimes, he's wearing a large cloak too, so you can feel the tissue on your legs when he's walking and knows he's there to watch over your back in case of any danger.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Well, if you carry him on your back, you won't see what's behind, right? He's not saying that so you carry him or anything. Well, ok, maybe he's saying that so you carry him. But that's because you said some people can follow you sometimes and be mean and now he's just a little scared? But if you carry him, for sure, he won't be scared anymore.