melpmne

[melpmne]

Soft

pairing: Liz x fem!reader

warning: liz and reader are implied to be step/half siblings, allusions to emotional incest, mentions of violence and blood, set during the italian renaissance (characters mirror borgia siblings), mentions of treating wounds (vague descriptions but can be gross)

wc: 1.8k

a/n: was gonna post this on my main but then i made this blog! how fun! now i can write weird things without feeling guilt :D

Liz had soft skin, so soft one could compare it to a newborn. It had the faintest hint of a tan, just enough color to her skin from sitting out in the sun when she bleached her hair. You knew Liz enjoyed her soft skin, always fragrancing her baths with aromatic oils, moisturizing herself and always leaving a soft, delicate scent following her.

You admired her, some might call it vanity but when compared to your rougher hands, dry and cut from working as a nurse for a convent, it was a luxury. You cared for Liz in these details, purchasing her oils, even some for yourself when your hands cracked.

Many said you spoiled Liz, always saying she could live without the plethora of dresses or rosaries, oils or hair tools. But she was yours to care for. Liz was your little sister, maybe from another father, but your family never had the best reputation, making you look after her far more than you’d like to admit.

She’s always been so delicate. Delicate features, delicate feelings, her body was delicate, even. Liz had a habit of overdoing herself, bruising or injuring herself. And as her elder sister, you’ve always been there to scoop her up and heal her.

Being the eldest, you were forced to work with the convents, helping the nuns and being exposed to the people of Rome who saw you as an outsider, a bastard, a parasite.

You were used to this, growing up around these people made you grow thick skin. You used to hurt from their words but the longer this went on, the better you got at hiding how it made you feel.

Your younger brother was a hothead when he heard these comments. Always quick to pull a knife out, to throw a punch. You’d have to drag him out of fights, regardless of how much taller he was than you. Something people loved teasing him over, which just made him lunge further at them.

When comparing your siblings, it was easy to declare a victor. Even your father, maybe not your father but a man kind enough to marry your mother and care for you all, knew Liz was the better child. You were reliable, responsible. That’s why you were in the church, or as far in as you could get.

Your thoughts left you as you laid your brother into another straw bed, second one this week, to clean his wounds. The beds were always itchy and poked at you, usually meant for those suffering far worse injuries or illnesses. You never let the nuns bother with him, he was your responsibility and it was your job to clean him up.

It was exhausting, Rome was full of people who hated you and the brother of yours who loved “proving” himself, even when it left him bloody and half dead. During the moments you’d drag his body to your convent, you daydreamed about what Liz was doing.

How she was probably leisurely reading in the library, maybe practicing her writing. How she was walking throughout the garden, sometimes you’d look up at the sky, seeing how cloudless it was, and wonder if she was doing the same. Cloud gazing as she turned her attention back to your mother’s garden.

You let him rest for an hour before dragging him back home, moving to different patients in the convent to heal before returning home, all while getting sneered at by onlookers and neighbors.

You sigh in relief, already pulled your brother into his room to rest as you felt your day was finally over.

“Y/n? You’re back!”

Liz ran towards you, her bright smile already easing you into relaxation. She ran into your arms, hugging you tightly.

“Dear Liz, it’s been a long day.”

Her hair smelt like oranges, probably from her oils, probably from bleaching her hair with its juices.

“He’s gotten into another fight?”

Liz pulled away, arms still wrapped around your waist as she looked at the door.

“As always, never a day that goes by without some petty fight.”

“He knows this will only hurt us more, right?” Liz asked you, her brows furrowing together, lightly upturned to show her affliction.

You began walking her away from the room, “He cares about the family, in different ways than we express it, but he cares.”

She leaned against your shoulder, walking beside you, “He’s too haughty, so…” She took a moment to think of her next word, “Impulsive.”

You laughed, “He is, he is. But we still have to look after him, we still have to look after each other.”

You both relaxed in the villa’s atrium, sat playing cards while enjoying the last hours of daylight. Finally with your sister, you feel refreshed, relaxed. The stress of today can melt right off of you. No worries of what the convent is up to, no worries of what is being said by your neighbors.

With the dimming glow of sunset, you set your card down, a lopsided smile stretching on your face when Liz tries to find a card of hers to set down.

“I have a tricky feeling you’re cheating.”

You laugh, “And how does one cheat at this game?”

“I will have to figure that out, dear sister.”

She set her card down, facing defeat at you won another round. You continue to laugh as you pack the cards up.

“You’ll have to teach me your tricks.” She said.

“Oh, but only when our brother is feeling well enough to play, then you’ll be able to win every round.”

“Will I?” She asked, eyes shining.

“With everything in my power.”

“Everything?” She walked up beside you.

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss into her cheek, warm and soft.

“Everything.”

The next morning you were ready to return to work. It was interesting meeting the women, willingly and unwillingly confined to their churches and quarters. Some were poor and needed a place to live, others were noble but were rejected by their families. For some this was their only chance at education. Such unique circumstances.

Of all places, this could be the safest place for Liz. In your eyes, at least.

You knew how cruel men are. How they fight and harass, the little respect they give each other let alone those who they deem are lesser than. You’re fearful of the day she might get married. Your poor Liz forced into a marriage and held captive in a man’s house.

At least here she could get an education, she’s always loved learning. She’s always loved showing her handwriting and music lessons, how quickly she can read, how many languages she could learn.

Deep down you knew these were only features to show off to attract a wealthier man, one who could elevate her in society, ensure she never has to work and keep her clothed or fed.

You knew your job as the eldest and you knew her fate, you only wish it could wait a little longer or halt altogether. Enough to advocate for her position in the convent. Yes her hair would be cut, yes it would return to it’s brown color, but she’d be far safer.

But she would still be too far from you. She’d have others looking after her, an abbess or two. Even other nuns who watch out for each other. Tutors who could teach her latin and sciences.

Too far for comfort.

You were her protections, her shield. You were the one tucking her into bed, pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead and telling her to sleep peacefully. You were the one protecting her from your brother or neighbors trying to make her upset and cry. You carried her when her legs grew tired, you helped curl her hair and spread citrus juices to keep it blonde. You may not have had a choice in it, but you were her knight. You were the one keeping her happy and safe.

You walked into the convent, veiled appropriately and prepared to help the sisters and nuns with their duties. You usually helped with sick patients, healing wounds and getting people around, or you carried errands to and from marketplaces. You’ve never quite noticed how nuns never left their convents, too focused on your brother or merchants selling wares to really pay attention to the lack of sisters walking around Rome.

You were sure today was an errand day, yesterday wasn’t, and unless they paid another woman to come and deliver meats and flour, they were going to have you do it. You walked to the usual offices, following an Abbess to the infirmary. You were really hoping today was an errand day.

She sat you beside some nuns, not unhealthy but they probably had some cut or problem. One was telling you about the infection the other had growing along her hand, it looked like an accident in the kitchen.

“Sister Agnes, you’re far too fragile to continue working.”

You grabbed her hand, grabbing a small knife from your work bag to cut the top layer of infection off. It was a harsh sight but somehow far prettier than others you’ve seen.

“So you’ve said a hundred times.” She replied, croaky and raspy.

“Please stick to breads or plating, knives are far too sharp for you.”

“I’ve tried telling her,” A nun beside Agnes said, “she’s too stubborn.”

Your eyebrow raised, not surprised at the comment. You took a small candle, turning her hand to cauterize the wound. This has worked before, hopefully it will work again.

This wasn’t work for Liz. She hated seeing the scrapes on her own knees, let alone an actual wound on someone else. You made sure to keep her far from your brother after his fights. Beaten and bruised, scabs forming on his body. You’re sure the sight would terrorize her and stay in her mind, tormenting her thoughts.

You were sure the only place Liz was safe at was with you. You also knew there was no chance your parents wouldn’t marry her off. A terrible dilemma, one always hushed around Liz. Your mother was always careful with her words when Liz discussed marriage. Her flowery language and romantic ideas of what her husband would do for her.

The thought made your stomach flip. You knew your thoughts would continue to plague you, regardless of what will happen, nothing will turn out right. Liz would miss you, you would miss her. She’s shipped off as a bride or as a nun.

Bandaging the wound, you let Sister Agnes rest, urging her relax before going back to work. You walked towards the Abbess, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts.

[melpmne]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ sugarglass ꒱ ˎˊ˗

olderbrother!sunghoon x fem!reader || 3.3k

౨ৎ incest/step-cest, nsfw, creampie, forbidden relationship, taboo, non-consensual voyuerism, m. masturbation, masturbating to a video clip, obsessive & possessive behaviour, manipulation & gaslighting (not by sunghoon), power imbalance(?), alcohol mentioned, morally questionable behaviour, jealousy/emotional manipulation (reader), read notes @ end!

standing in the middle of sunghoon’s 23rd birthday party in his family home—yura wonders if you know. 

she watches from the edge of the kitchen as you lean into sunghoon, tugging on his sleeve as he leans down, and whispering something that make his ears go red. he laughs and whispers something back—which results in you blushing. 

yura… hadn’t meant to know. but it happened twice.

the first time it happened—yura didn’t mean to. she had come over that night to hang out with jake but he told her that he’ll be late to pick up some snacks and beers for them. he told yura to just enter—the front door was unlocked.

but as soon as she got inside, she paused. 

sunghoon’s bedroom door was mostly shut, but not all the way. 

a soft sound. a breath, caught, and muffled—

“fuck—ah fuck,” sunghoon groaned under his breath silently as he pressed the palm of his hand against his hardening cock. the length of his cock bobbed, head of it was red and flushed. sunghoon fucked into his fist, leaking precum along his length. 

yura froze at the doorway, fingers curled loosely around the edge of the wall. she was about to back away slowly, embarrassed and awkward and just didn’t want to hear or imagine her friend… jerking off in his bedroom, completely unaware that she was even there. but just as she was about to turn, sunghoon—

“��ngh f-fuck, yn—” 

her blood ran cold, it was undeniably your name—her body went still like glass cracking under pressure. she thought she had heard it wrongly, that maybe it was another yn that sunghoon knew.

but then sunghoon groaned again—breathless and needy, “god, yn, fuck, ‘m gonna c—cum,” his hips twitched as he leaned back against his study chair. sunghoon cursed under his breath as he pumped his cock back and forth—squeezing and tightening his grip around his throbbing cock. 

then, yura heard—plastic clickings repeatedly, the familiar sound of sunghoon’s keyboard. she couldn’t move, as much as she wanted to. 

a second later, the sound of the crowd and the faint music filled the room. a voice came through, sunghoon had turned the volume up. 

“ah—do i look bad? don’t record me—!” 

her eyes widened in horror—it was unmistakable—your voice, soft and nervous for your school graduation echoing off the hall. she remembered sunghoon posting your graduation clip on his twitter like a proud older brother. 

“mhh, fuck, yn, fuckfuckfuck,” sunghoon chanted behind the half-closed door, the wet sound of his palm around his cock hitting the base was getting just as loud as the audio. he increased his pace in stroking his cock, his thumb rolling around the tip of his flushed head, suppressing from cumming—sunghoon did not want to cum just yet. 

“—especially my big brother, hoonie—ack! i can’t call you that—” 

you were rehearsing for your speech for the top student award, yura remembered that much, too. there was no room for denial—sunghoon was jerking off to a video of his own little sister, during one of the most innocent, proud moments of her life.

sunghoon groaned aloud, tilting his head back against the chair. “yn—! shit!” his entire body tensed, his huge cock jumped in his hand as he came, cum spurting over his laptop and your face. he never really lasted long when he jerked off to you—which was all the fucking time. “my god, fuck, yn…” he cursed, panting as his cock twitched from the oversensitivity of holding himself back. 

yura stumbled back, nearly missing a step as she turned and rushed out—thank god she hadn’t closed the door, the sounds from sunghoon’s room clinging to her like rot. her vision blurred, chest tight as she stood outside of their house—barefoot, cold, shaking. 

she just caught the boy she liked jerking off to his own little sister.

“—yura?” 

she blinked. 

your sweet voice pulls her back like a thread snapping taut, jolting her out of the memory. the warmth of the kitchen, the chatter from the living room, and the laughter from sunghoon’s group of friends—all returned in a rush to yura’s head.

you’re standing there before her, shorter and doe-eyed, hair tied up lazily, holding out a small paper plate. a slice of cake, perfectly cut. 

“for you,” you say with a soft smile, handing the plate over for her to take it. “you like strawberries, right?” 

yura stares at it for a moment too long. the frosting looks soft. pink and white swirls like something innocent—then her eyes glance up at you—oh, something innocent. 

she swallows, nodding as she straightens up. “yeah—i do,” her hand reaches out, fingers brushing yours as she takes the plate. yura lets out a soft chuckle. “i thought he’d have tiramisu cake.” 

you glance back at the dining table over your shoulder, passing her the plastic fork. “oh, mm. i just really craved strawberry cheesecake this week.” 

yura raises her eyebrows—oh? so sunghoon hadn’t picked the cake for his own birthday.

you had. 

and of course he lets you.

she covers it with a casual nod, twirling the fork slowly between her fingers. “didn’t take you for someone with a sweet tooth,” she says, just to say something, just to hear how steady her own voice still sounds. 

you don’t break eye contact, smiling at her, almost teasing. “what do you mean?” then you giggle, leaning your body sideways against the counter, elbow resting loosely. “i love sweets,” your voice syrupy. “can’t you tell?” 

can’t you tell?

yura blinks, for some reason—slightly taken aback from a girl younger than her. the words feel, and sound simple but there’s a faint mockery underneath. 

she forces a laugh, eyes flicking away. “right—my bad. haha.” 

the second time it happened, it happened in sunghoon and jake’s shared apartment again. the three of them were super drunk. it wasn’t like the first where it’s quiet and accidental. 

sunghoon and jake both reeked alcohol and beer—laughing, flushed, lumbs loose with reckless comfort that only comes after too many shots and too many years of familiarity. 

yura remembered collapsing onto the couch, her cheeks warm. jake had laid himself out on the floor, face half-buried into his own hoodie, mumbling something but was sleeping. 

sunghoon leaned against the couch on the floor, his head tilted back over the cushion, eyes half-lidded as he started at the ceiling like it was distorting. they didn’t say anything for a moment. the only sound was the buzz of the fridge in the kitchen, and the soft snore from jake. 

then, sunghoon let out a slow exhale. 

“think i’m fucked up,” he murmured quietly. 

yura blinked, the haze in her brain sharpening just a little. “yeah… we’re all fucked.” 

he let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head lazily. “no, like. actually. i’m fucked up,” 

she turned her head to look at him, bringing her hand up to let her fingers play with sunghoon’s locks. “what’re you talking about?” 

sunghoon didn’t look at her. his head still rested back, but his throat bobbed with a swallow. a moment passed.

he closed his eyes. “i’m in love with someone i’m not supposed to be.” 

yura didn’t respond at first. her fingers twitched between his hair, but her body didn’t move. it's no surprise for her—she… she knew what he was talking about. but she didn’t say anything. 

sunghoon finally turned his head toward her, the dim light casting deep shadows under his eyes. “she’s sweet,” he slurred, voice softer now. “she’s always been so sweet and so cute. since we were kids, she used to just follow me around like a… like a kitten, or something.” 

yura’s mouth went dry. she didn’t want to listen to it anymore—but she couldn’t stop herself.

“and now she’s older,” he continued, smiling faintly to himself, eyes rolled back. “but she still looks at me like that. and it fucks me up that she’s gotten so beautiful…” 

yura stared. she knew. she knew damn well. but hearing it like this—raw and ugly—made her stomach twist. 

“do you know who i’m talking about?” he mumbled, groaning as he shifted his position to lean better. his back was hurting. she didn’t move—neither a nod or a shake of head. she just stayed still, heart thumping hard against her chest as she held back her breath, terrified that if she made even a sound, she’d shatter the moment… and not know anything. 

sunghoon let out a dry chuckle, not expecting a reply, staring back up to the ceiling. he closed his eyes, sighing. “if you knew,” he exhaled, “you’d hate me.” 

a pause.

“think i’m disgusting.” 

yura’s throat tightened. her fingers curled around his strands. 

she knew. but maybe because it was sunghoon. maybe because it’s her own friend. maybe because she has had a crush on him since high school—

but she didn’t think it was disgusting. she didn’t think he was disgusting. 

“—what’s next, yn? are you going to continue your studies?” jake asks, lifting his head from where it rests lazily against the back of the couch. you turn to him, smiling. “oh, um…” 

everyone looks your way now.

yura watches as your fingers toy with the edge of your cup—a soda—the pads of your thumbs pressing faint little crescents into the plastic. you smile, small, polite, cute little thing, 

“‘m not sure yet,” you admit softly. “i mean, i got an offer to continue studying overseas.” 

that perks a few eyebrows. heesung lets out a quiet “oh? that’s amazing, yn!” from the corner of the couch. they’re impressed. 

“but…” your voice trails for a beat. “my parents won’t let me go.” you say it lightly, a shy, embarrassed smile appears on your face as you sink back on the couch. 

that’s not a surprise. yura knows your family. how overprotective and doting they are. 

but yura notices the pause. and then she sees it.

you glance across the room—not to jake, or ni-ki who sits beside you, not to her, your soda, or your lap. or anyone in the living room.

but to your older brother.

sunghoon’s already looking at you. his gaze never waver. he’s not smiling. he’s just watching, unreadable, but a little too still. a little too aware.

a little too guilty.

yura feels her throat dry. 

you smile again—shrugging like it’s no biggie. “anyway, it’s not like i have plans to go out of this country anyway.” 

“why not?” ni-ki asks, his shoulder brushes against yours as he turns his head to look at you. his arm rests behind you on the couch. you glance at him, sighing softly. “mm, no reason?” 

“ay, that’s not an answer,” he teases, nudging you lightly again. “c’mon. if it’s a good opportunity—” 

“she doesn’t need to leave korea for education,” sunghoon cuts in. his voice is casual. sarcastic in a way that could pass for a joke—barely. but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and his hand tightens slightly around his cup. 

ni-ki blinks, turning his head. “huh?” 

sunghoon shrugs, tilting his head to appear unaffected. “i mean… she’s already got people falling over themselves here. doesn’t need to run off for a degree, right?” 

yura goes still. wow.

you blink, visibly caught off-guard, and let out a soft chuckle. “that’s flattering? does that mean you’re going to pay for my bills, hoonie?” 

yura feels her heart skips a beat. she recalls sunghoon—jerking off to that nickname. 

sunghoon smiles—slow. “i can pay your bills forever, yn,” he says, his voice low. “if you let me.” he bites the inside of his cheek.

jake makes a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “god, you’re so drunk!” he laughs, hitting sunghoon’s forearm. sunghoon groans and laughs along too—but his eyes are quick to glance back at you. “i’m serious,” he mouths. 

you press your tongue to the inside of your cheek, suppressing the twitch of a smile like you don’t feel the weight of his gaze. 

nobody is paying attention to nobody anymore. 

yura’s fingers are still on the hem of her top. her breath halts.

wow—you… you don’t even bother hiding it. don’t even bother hiding hat glance, that smile, and the way your body language is just screaming to be noticed. the way you tilt your body just a little more in his direction, basking in the attention like it’s sunlight. 

yura looks down, suddenly cold in the warmth of the room. she rubs her thumb against the back of her hand as if it could scrub the thought out of her head.

you… know. 

you know exactly what you’re doing. you’re smiling like a girl who doesn’t know any better—head leaning slightly toward ni-ki’s chest. you know sunghoon’s listening when you laugh a little too long.

and sunghoon—god, park sunghoon—he’s just sitting there, like it’s fine and actually being into it. his arm drapes lazily over the back of the couch, head tilted toward jake like he’s listening to him—but his eyes flick to you, again and again, like not looking will kill him. 

yura’s stomach twists. so quiet yet bold right in front of them all.

don’t you have any shame? the two of you? 

she shifts in her seat uncomfortably—she doesn’t even know what she’s feeling—disgust? jealousy? guilt? 

maybe it’s all of it. 

someone’s snoring.

jake, most likely. 

yura groans softly and  stirs on the couch, blinking through the haze in her head. she doesn’t remember falling asleep but it seems like everyone has either gone home, or passed out drunk on their seats. 

her mouth is dry and the back of her neck is damp and sticky with sweat. she grimaces and pushes herself up with one hand, making sure not to bother sleeping jay beside her—then shuffles quietly toward the bathroom. 

“damn, this bladder…” yura mutters under her breath as she rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm, stumbling softly through the dark. her steps are clumsy as she tries to navigate the layout of the house. 

she reaches the end, fingers brushing the bathroom doorframe—then stops.

her brows twitch. 

“keep your voice down, yn—do you want my friends to hear you?” 

was that…? 

sunghoon clamps his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans, a grin eases its way onto his handsome features. he looks up to you with a toothy smirk, canines digging into his bottom lip. the wet squelching of your pussy was almost deafeningly loud despite your little muffled moanings. 

“mhh—ngh, hoonie,” you slur, muffled behind his palms. you dart your tongue out to lick it, nibbling on his skin. “so big,” you moan softly as sunghoon lifts you off his lap before dropping you, letting you slam back down on his big cock. the head of his dick nestles against your cervix with each brutal thrust. 

“such a slut—” he groans, chuckling as he grabs your hip. “you wanna leave me, baby? is that it? you wanna run off to fucking, fuck—states—and leave me?” sunghoon jerks his hips up—slamming right against your womb. 

you mewl pathetically, tilting your head back and your hands travel up around sunghoon’s wrist on your mouth, shaking your head. “mm—mm,” you cry out against his palm, walls tightening around his wet cock. 

“so cute,” he hammers his cock into your cunt, each thrust jolts your limp body up. “i’ll never let you leave me—you can’t leave me,” you nod and cry softly as his cock drags against your sensitive walls. your older brother’s thrusts are rough and merciless and jealous, cock balls deep and slapping against your wet pussy. 

you gnaw on his palm, fingers scratching his wrist like a cat. your legs burn with electricity. in and out, in and out, in. out. in. your eyes roll back as he angles his cock to accommodate your wet cunt. “gosh—you’re the meanest older brother i know—mhh—!” you manage to choke out, pussy sucking him like a vice. 

sunghoon smirks, swallowing the lump in his throat, his adam apples bob up and down as he removes his hand off your mouth to rub his thumb over your glistening clit. “yeah?” he breathes, his other hand presses its fingertips into your flesh. “you’re the cutest little sister i know.” he moans, jabbing his cock against your soft, squishy spot. 

you cry out softly, breathless, tilting your head back in the air. “hoonie!” 

yura freezes, blood draining from her face as she recoils like she’s been slapped hard. her hand flies to her mouth before she can stop it, but her breath still punches out in a tiny, choked sound. her entire body and system goes stiff.

she should leave—she should leave, oh god.

but just as her foot begins to step back—

your head shifts, pretty lashes fluttering open through the haze of pleasure. 

through the narrow crack in the door of sunghoon’s home bedroom—you see her.

yura frozen like a statue. 

your lips part, darting your tongue out to lick your lips. not in shock, not in shame—but something far worse. 

you smile.

your lashes lower just a little, like you’re letting her in on a secret no one else deserves more. 

and then your eyes, heavy and glistening with pleasure tears—lock with hers. 

“‘m gonna cum, hoonie—!” you arch your back just slightly more, a desperate, needy, soft moan spilling from your mouth—exaggerated now, deliberate like a performance. 

for her.

she can’t see sunghoon’s face but—

“mm—fuck, yeah, ‘m gonna cum too, pretty,” sunghoon hisses, the end tapering off to a whimper as his cock throb deep in your pussy. his thrusts lose its rhythm, harsh and rough and chasing its high. his hand on your hip travels up to grope your tit, the flesh squeezed through the gaps between his fingers. “y—you’re my birthday gift, yeah?”

you nod eagerly, moving your hips back and forth—shaking violently on his lap. the contracting, squeezing, and twitching of your pussy is sending sunghoon over the edge. “inside—inside, inside,” you sob quietly, one hand on his lower abdomen and the other rests on top of his hand on your tit, squeezing it through. 

“i love you, i love you, i love you—” sunghoon’s voice cracks with each word, slurred from pleasure and something raw. he picks up his tempo, hips meet yours with a loud splat, your ass slams against his skin. your tits bounce up and down as you chase your orgasm. “i love you so much, god i wish you weren’t—” he swallows, grunting. 

“wish you weren’t my little sister—” hips moving in a frantic rhythm. the words spill out shame-laced and broken. you hum, “‘m yours, hoonie, i’ll be whatever you want.” you moan softly, teething as you bite down your bottom lip hard that it draws blood. the head of sunghoon’s cock plunges to the deepest depths of your cunt. 

sunghoon lets out a noise, something between a sob and a laugh—”i’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he mumbles, not even aware of his own words now. “swear to god, i will.” 

yura’s knees threaten to give. her heart pounds so hard it’s hurting her physically. her mouth is dry—but she can’t look away. 

she’s more disgusted at herself—for still staying and liking sunghoon. 

“yes—yes yes yesyesyes, hoonie, cummin’, ‘m cummin’—” you babble as you teeter on the edge. you let out a whimper as you cum on his cock, climax tears through you like an arrow. sunghoon, too—cock twitches as he spurts his cum deep inside you, emptying his load and filling you up with his warm, thick semen. 

you whine and whimper and cry softly, perky nipple rubbed between sunghoon’s fingertips as his seed leaks out from your fucked pussy. “shit, yn—i love you so much,” he confesses, tired and dazy. he doesn’t pull out. you don’t get off.

when you turn to look again—yura’s gone.

the hallway is empty as if she was never there. 

you blink once, then smile to yourself before sunghoon’s hand catches your cheek, turning you back towards him to pull you into a soft, tender kiss.

guess she got the message. 

💭 this feels like #coming_out yeah... so... i write incest (or step-chest,, whatever you guys prefer)... i completely understand if this isn't everyone's cup of tea and i'm (not) ready lose followers (hate that word :x)...

but to be fair,,, i write non-con, dub-con, horror, and gore themes so this shouldn't be too much of surprise, right...? i feel like this is another fork-in-the-kitchen moment lol.

but either way,, pls feel free to send me incest/step-cest request in my inbox... i'm so embarrassed and shy idk why but mmhm <3

and as usual,,, if you enjoy this (i sure do xd) please don't only leave a like but to also reblog and comment and let me know what you feel! it only encourages me to keep writing hihi <3 thank u so much and ily!!

[melpmne]

In The Mood For Love

pairing: idol!wonbin x gn!reader

warning: stalking

wc: 3.2k

a/n: had this in my drafts since like february? idk it's old and i need to post it lol

SM’s prince Park Wonbin was known for getting what he wants, regardless of repercussions. He’s their golden boy, the peak of what they could train, which they didn’t even train him much, so naturally talented he aced every test he took. Dancing was his specialty but rapping and singing were more than exceptional. He had amazing stage presence, he was kind and patient when waiting on people, he was the epitome of what they wanted.

Of course being so perfect has it’s leverage. Because he’s so perfect his staff never bothered asking or talking back to his requests. He could ask for a specific cake from a bakery cities over and someone would be on it. He could ask for someone to drive him to this place or that place and some staff member was already grabbing their keys.

What Wonbin wanted, he got.

If something caught his eye, flashy or discreet, people got it for him. Be it fan or staff. He was pampered and fawned at, always living in leisure as SM’s prince. Every movement he made or glance taken, people reported on it. Within the walls of SM, Wonbin was the one calling the shots.

One of the few lines he never crossed was fans. Wonbin knew how desperately people wanted to tear his group apart, already trying before the group was even announced. So fans were a rare luxury of toying with. A few may have caught his eye but never often enough to feel tempted to bring up to a manager.

Of course, Wonbin was smart. He knew fans posted vlogs and twitter threads of their fansigns or cafe events. He could find them if he wanted, his fans made it quite easy. But the temptation never made it past any vlog or twitter account. After some minutes or scrolls in he grew tired, wanting to move onto something else.

That’s where he is now, mentally burnt out and pouting while his stylists finished his makeup before a fansign. He’d scrolled enough on his phone to fry his brain, looking around there wasn’t anything particularly stimulating. Their managers sent them boba from a shop they really liked, that was the most interesting thing so far.

As they prepare to walk out to sign hundreds of albums and talk to their fans, Wonbin put his idol front on. Pretending to not be bored out of his mind or tired from the lack of sleep, he made sure he was awake and focused, or appeared to be awake and focused. Who knows, maybe something will spark interest.

They walked out and greeted their fans, sitting in their foldable chairs before beginning to sign albums, Wonbin smiled and talked to his fans, making sure to pose with whatever props and gifts they’d given him for his plethora of fansites.

He’d told about 20 fans he’s eaten and shook hands with almost 40 others before he spotted someone. While waiting for someone to move from Sohee to him, he looked over at the sea of cameras and fans before finding someone to fixate on.

Standing in line, you were lucky to win a draw for a fansign. You’d tried with so many different websites and sellers to get a raffle and finally you’re here. You anxiously waited as you slowly approached the table, patiently waiting for the staff to let you sit and meet each member.

You were able to get a small plushie for all seven members, all characters each member showed an affection for. You felt nervous, stuttering over a word or two as you talked to each member down the table before sitting in front of Wonbin.

You smiled and chatted, giving him a little Chococat plush. You felt that anxiousness bolt through your body, knowing he’s always been one to give undivided attention to fans. When sat face to face with you, Wonbin felt infatuated. He’d never seen someone that looked quite like you, your natural shyness, the way you avoided eye contact before you’d stare a second too long at him. You were absolutely adorable.

“Are you from around this area?” He asked.

You quirked your head, curious as to why he’d ask that.

“No, I traveled in from another city.”

Wonbin nodded, “I thought your accent sounded different.”

You laughed, continuing to talk before a staff member moved you along to the next member.

Wonbin’s eyes lingered on you, memorizing your features and keeping you in his peripheral as he continued talking to other fans. He carefully watched you move down to the last member before walking back to your seat in the auditorium.

Wonbin knew he had to be discreet, he was in the most public area and full of cameras, most zoomed in on him. As the members moved from the table, staff removing it from the stage so they could perform their songs, Wonbin strategically glanced over to your area every few minutes. Watching what you were doing, seeing who you talked to. You didn’t come here with a friend, barely talking to the people around you.

As the fansign slowly ended, Wonbin was quick to search you, checking tweets and instagram tags, remembering your name from the roster to search into different sites and apps. Finally finding something, even if it was just a picture of your hand. Wonbin saved your profile to view later.

This was the fix he needed. Even if he knew this interest would die off in a week, Wonbin still grabbed onto it with a tight fist.

As his schedules ended and he finally found time to relax at home, Wonbin opened his phone to find your saved profile. Opening it, he looked through your posts, seeing pictures of pets, maybe yours or a friends, seeing photos of your study material, a photo from a cafe you went to.

That’s something.

He looked at the blurry logo, trying to decipher the name before searching it on naver. Finding the location, he saved the place to visit when he had time off. Hopefully he’d find you there.

Looking further at your page, he scrolled up to see your following. The celebrities you kept up with, the university club you joined, the friends you were close to. Slowly Wonbin was understanding you, maybe in a skewed and almost bastardized way, but he was understanding something. Digging deeper, he was able to find the email you used. Slowly finding more and more about you.

Wonbin peeled back from his phone, thinking about how invested he’s already become. Why was he so invested? This isn’t normal, especially not for him. He was supposed to be watched and surveyed, not the other way around. Looking down at his screen, he was reading about the job you’ve working at. Why is he so invested?

Wonbin saved the page before closing his phone. Maybe he needs some rest to understand this weird obsession.

His next few days were packed with schedules. Photoshoot here, filming a video there, make sure to practice for this event and for this comeback later in the year. As he pressed through his schedules on nothing more than four hours of sleep every day, he played their games and did as he was told. Posing the right way, acting the right way in front of the camera, practicing just as hard and well past the time they expected him to.

When Wonbin was granted his time off, he wanted nothing more than to pass out and sleep for the entire time. While he did get the chance to sleep in, he checked his phone for your page. There was still the itch to look at you, he can’t quite remember how you looked. A slight blur of your features from how busy he’s been.

He saw a little ring around your icon. You posted a story?

Clicking on it, you were at that same cafe he saved. Running out of his room, he alerted a manager that he wanted to visit that cafe.

“You should cover up unless you want a staff member with you.”

“I can cover.”

“Go ahead.” He waved Wonbin off.

It took a train ride but Wonbin made his way to the cafe you were at. Entering the doors, he scanned the menu before looking around the cafe.

He spotted you, tucked away in the corner on your laptop. He walked up to the counter and ordered some specialty drink they made. Something with coffee and fruit. He sat near you, not close but enough to observe you.

He grabbed his drink before returning to his seat, scrolling on his phone as he glanced up at you. He saw the glimpse of earphones as you were absorbed into your work. Looking around, he noticed how everyone was busy, customers working on their things while the cafe employees were assembling or cleaning.

Wonbin enjoyed this, no eyes on him. He could relax while keeping his eyes on prey. That might be a crude way to put it but you were his prey. His fascination, his current interest, and obsession.

Seeing you pack up your things, he quickly finished his coffee before throwing it away. Keeping some distance from you as he followed you out of the cafe. He stood by the cafe while watching you walk down a street. He kept a good distance while following you. Just far enough to blend in with the crowd while also keeping his eyes exclusively on you.

You took the main roads. Walking from the cafe to somewhere only you knew. You looked around, enjoying the sights of your everyday scenery.

After following you for some time, Wonbin grew a little bored. Walking off towards another direction, slowly going back home. He walked through alleyways and busy streets before finding himself in front of an appliance store. He’d usually walk right away but they had a sale on bluetooth luggage tags.

Walking in, he investigated the items.

‘Knockoff airtags?’ He thought.

Wait.

He could use these.

Even if they were shit quality, he could utilize them. Even if they died within a day, he could use those prime hours to see you. To see where you moved and possibly where you lived.

Wonbin took two to the front counter before catching a bus home.

His week continued being as busy as the previous week. Photoshoots, filming behind the scenes, filming more shows for their youtube channel, practice, practice, and even more practice. Remember this dance for an SM concert, practice these songs for music shows, practice singing these songs for those RIIZE concerts later this year. Every corner Wonbin turned, he was moved into a practice room.

While he was being drained of every ounce of energy he had, he still found a small amount of energy to check his phone for any update from you. He usually checked your page once a day, just before he had dinner or before he fell asleep. A small update to see what you could be up to, but it seemed like you and him were more similar than he expected.

Maybe Wonbin wanted someone to live vicariously through. Someone mundane who worked and showed what they ate or movies they saw. Someone he could feel normal with, not like an idol snooping into a stranger’s personal life.

This week, he only had one day off. A small day to squeeze in as much rest or personal time as he could. Almost hoping to recreate last week, Wonbin planned on going back to that cafe. Alerting his manager, he asked Wonbin if he liked the place.

“They’re not bad, their coffee is sweeter than a lot of places.”

His manager nodded, letting him go off whenever he wanted to.

Like last week, Wonbin slept in a few hours later than usual. He checked your account and saw no updates. Still, he connected his phone to the airtag knockoff before heading over to the cafe.

Walking in, he spotted you. Same drink and same spot in the back area of the cafe. He walked up to the counter and ordered a different drink. Something caramel? He couldn’t quite remember. His mind was racing with thoughts of you.

Wonbin grabbed his drink before going back to his seat from last week. He grabbed at the airtag before placing it in his jacket pocket. Feeling his heart beat quicken with how he could drop this into your bag.

Looking at you, you were halfway finished with your drink. Wonbin scrolled on his phone, drinking his coffee while stealing glances at you. This coffee wasn’t too bad, he could see you drinking this.

Looking a little closer, he tried figuring what coffee you were drinking. It was a lighter brown color, nothing plain or dark brewed. It was similar to his, but not exactly. Wonbin made a mental note to screenshot any order you post, he saw the coffee order right on your story but it never crossed his mind to save it.

Wonbin finished his drink, walking over to dispose of his cup as he saw you pack up. You quickly packed your bag with your laptop and notebook before walking over to throw your cup away before leaving the cafe. He noticed you left your pencil case, walking over, Wonbin grabbed it to follow you.

As he stepped out, his hand moved to put the tracker into your case before racing after you. He was filled with adrenaline, chasing after you far faster than he’d anticipate.

“Excuse me! You left this.”

You turned around, wondering who was yelling in your direction.

Wonbin jogged up to you, “You left this.”

Handing you your case, “Oh my goodness.”

You placed it in your bag, “Thank you, I’m running late, I completely forgot it.”

“Thank you.” You repeated, looking up to see Wonbin’s familiar face.

“You-” You cut yourself off.

“Don’t tell anyone.” Wonbin smiled under his mask, hoping you could see the smile in his eyes as he waved you goodbye.

Wonbin walked away with a calmness he never knew he had. He was relaxed and suave, loving your flustered and shocked state. He turned to see you walking over to wherever you were heading. Taking his phone out, he saw the gps tracker move with you. For, at least, the rest of the day, he could observe you better.

He waited til he got home to check the tracker. Seeing you move to different buildings, seeing one was your job. He noted the time you clocked in and later checked when you clocked out. He watched you ride a bus home, entering an apartment complex before going to your unit.

Wonbin wished he could find out where you lived exactly, only able to see the building and which area of it you lived.

Wonbin noticed the tracker had a feature to save the details of every day. He could go back to today’s data later if he needed. If it holds a decent charge, Wonbin could see when you like to arrive at the cafe and catch you there more.

Around two in the morning, he saw you walk to a convenience store. You didn’t take your case out? Interesting. Thinking on it, people don’t always remove things in and out of their bags. If they put something in, it’s usually kept there for some time.

‘People use pens.’ he thought.

Wonbin tried falling asleep, getting as much rest as he could before repeating his schedule. Waking, he continued on his usual routine. Stylists poking and adjusting his hair and wakeup, telling him what to wear, directors and photographers telling him out to move and pose. Wonbin did as he was told, as he always did.

During their small breaks he snacked on what he was allowed before moving onto practice. The endless practices they needed to do. Singing, dancing, instruments, remember to do this and remember to do that.

He thought about the tracker, if it still worked or not. He took a break from his daily check-ins, maybe later that night he’d check up on you. It’s been a couple days.

While Wonbin was busy practicing and recording, you were relaxing during one of your few days off. Relaxing in your bed as you mindlessly napped. Hearing your doorbell ring, you slowly made your way there.

Opening the door, you saw a cardboard box. Taking it, you opened the box to find a purse you ordered, what lucky timing. Taking it to your bedroom, you played with the zipper and strap, relaxing the materials before removing the paper stuffing.

You grabbed your older bag, taking out each item before choosing what to keep and remove for your new bag, it had a bit less space than the one you’ve been using. You’ve got to utilize as much space as you can.

You took out your wallet and cosmetic bag, placing them in your new purse before grabbing at your smaller things. Placing your hand sanitizer and painkillers in there.

At the bottom of your bag you found your pencil case. Oh the one you lost at the cafe, the one Wonbin returned to you. You can still remember the shock, your face warming up as he handed you the pouch.

You opened the case, looking through your pens and pencils to pick out your favorites. You were lucky to find a purse with a pen pocket, slim enough to fit two of your favorite pens.

Looking around your case you saw a circular piece of metal. Seeing it reflect light into your eyes, your body froze.

Who put that in here?

How long has that been in here? Was this here for a day or a week? Who did this? Your mind slowly started filling with anxious thoughts. You dropped your case, fear overtaking you as you were trying to breathe. What should you even do? You have no idea how long this has been happening, this could be someone from your university or work or even a complete stranger.

You took the tracker, walking out with it. You made your way through some alleyways, walking towards a dumpster before dropping it beside the rain gutter. At best it will short circuit from the water, at worst it will slowly die from batter drainage.

You made your way back to your apartment, greeting the front desk worker.

“Y/n, honey, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” You try to keep your voice from shaking, “something weird just happened, don’t worry.”

She nodded her head, “Someone left a package for you.”

Again?

She handed you the small box.

“Really pretty boy, he was quite tall.”

“Oh?”

You thanked her before walking up to your unit. Maybe this can distract you from whatever was watching you.

You took a small box cutter to the tape. Opening the box up, you saw some plush dolls of RIIZE characters, some of their albums, the rest of the items were obstructed by a letter sitting on top of them.

Opening the small envelope,

“Hello, y/n! I never found your apartment number but I wanted to send this package to you! You’re very pretty and I wanted to make sure you received this no matter what! I hope you enjoy it :) also! Please write me back who your bias is? It was a little hard getting a plush of every member, haha. Your rockstar, Wonbinie.”

You felt your hands freeze reading his name. The letter slowly fell out of your hands and your stomach twisted and knotted.

[melpmne]

Hunger

Pairing: Shotaro x gn!reader

Warning: dark content! noncon, reader thinks theyre a vampire, blood drinking, drugging, nonconsensual sex acts (no penetration and reader perpetrates), cannibalistic thoughts

Wc: 5.1k

A/n: anybody like vampires? is that still cool these days? lol anyways, ive had this really vague vampire oc and i wanted to play around with the concept, hope you all can enjoy <3

and i prommy this isnt gonna be a common sight on my blog lol i was really stressed (and sick) when i wrote this and i still like the story i made so i wanted to share it :> dont worry about future posts they'll still be my usual content

Song: Hobbies - Aleyna Moon

You jolted awake, feeling a cold sweat cover your body. Your room was covered in a blue haze, shades of cerulean to indigo tinting your walls. You shifted onto your side, checking your phone to see it being just past nightfall. Sighing, you were relieved it was earlier. You hated getting caught in the sun when trying to have a relaxing morning, or night in your case.

You stretched, muscles tensing before melting into your bed. You felt for your phone, hands slapping around to feel for the cool glass screen, you opened your phone to check your work schedule. You clicked your phone off seeing it was your day off, today you could relax but tomorrow you’d have to buy groceries. Ugh.

There was something disgusting about walking through the bright, florescent stores. So bright, so full of smells. The aisles reeked of plastics and cleaners, the vegetables smelt moldy and green, checkout lines stunk of rubber and human sweat. The only area with a decent fragrance was the butcher counter, filled with the earthy, iron scent of blood and meat.

You wish you could live your life far from these stores but that was a privilege you were never granted. Feeding on people was a luxury, drinking a full bodied meal wasn’t what the average vampire could afford.

A sad reality you had to face every day. Vampirism wasn’t as sexy or fun as old movies or pop culture would have you believe. There were no bat transformations, no velvet lined coffins. No chalices of blood or garlic cloves you ward you away. Which wasn’t even true, vampires loved garlic, one of the few foods you could stomach.

The best depiction of a vampire was Jennifer’s Body. Cold, depraved, lifeless, gaunt. Most days feeling like you were on death’s door, feeling dried up and tired, greasy hair matching your dull skin. Smearing foundation across your face to feel some semblance of normalcy, of humanness.

That was until you could feed. Then you could feel your skin bounce with hydration, your mind clearing from the dark, heavy thoughts that weighed you down. Feeling carefree and energetic.

But that’s the deal, even when you never had the choice.

You laid in bed, waiting out the sunset to make sure you were clear to leave. You hated waiting. It would be just a few more minutes before you could leave and go out. As your thoughts passed by you remember watching those old vampire movies. Reading bad novels and teenage romance with weirdly old monsters that tried emulating a distorted sense of humanness.

That’s nothing like this.

Finally being nightfall, you got up and dressed. You never dress fancy or extravagant, a terrible stereotype for your kind. Vampires aren’t romantic or even enjoy getting “dolled” up. Only loser goth kids did that. A fine line separating the real and wannabe vampires.

As you finished dressing, you walked out of your bedroom to step into the world. You were grateful for living in such a nightlife heavy city, this being the few ways you could still connect with people while passing as their kind. Although the loneliness still got to you.

There was an emotion disconnect, feeling out of place even when masking so well as them. It was weird, very weird. Before you turned you felt just the same as them, a human who enjoyed the sunlight warming your skin, going to parks or arcades, spending time with friends and families at get togethers. But now, there’s just a void. Yeah, that’s the word: Void.

You don’t quite remember when you turned, but something happened. One day you woke up different. Feeling repulsed by the norms of your previous life. Like a switch turned on and changed you. Your family wrote it off as some transitional thing, something temporary or due to traumatic events.

Stepping outside, you walk down the hall to your apartment’s elevator. You feel a slight squeeze along your stomach. You haven’t fed in over a month. You think about who to call: Violet moved away, Brian stopped letting friends feed on him. Hmmm. Who to call?

Walking out to the street, your thoughts shifted from who to feed on to remembering how it felt. You missed feeding. The rush you felt when drinking, it was unlike anything. Feeling your body rejuvenate and spring back to life. It was one of the few things that brought your heartbeat back.

Most of the time you fed yourself on animal blood. Picking up ground meat and draining the blood from the package before drinking it down. It wasn’t your favorite, too much iron, you think. But it got the job done, regardless of how appetizing it was.

You, of course, still ate human food but it wasn’t as nourishing as blood. Still, you made your way to the closest fast food place, and even if you had to hold your nose, you ate something as a buffer between feedings.

You still felt that hollow hunger in your stomach, even after eating whatever meal you picked up. It wasn’t enough to attack someone but it was dull and you were sure you’d need to call someone for a feeding. Ah, the pains of being a vampire.

You did your usual routine, walking around your city and watching people interact with each other. Staying plenty far from the bright florescent lights from stores, you caught onto a smell that made your heart pound.

You’d usually find this pounding as an anxiety signal but this time it felt different. This time it felt primal.

You followed the scent, catching yourself in front of some prop shop. Looking at the storefront filled with notebooks, stickers, little decor items. You glanced over at where the scent was coming from, seeing a tall man with dark brown hair. You could see his round, almost downturned eyes, his full cheeks, and his bright smile stretching across his face.

Something gravitated you towards him. Something about him kept your eyes glued to him. You’ve never felt this, this magnetism. Didn’t being a vampire mean you were immune to these things? Was he a vampire?

And what scared you was how hard your heart was beating. You haven’t felt this since you were human, a life ago.

You moved beside him, saying a soft “Excuse me,” as you entered the store. You felt him eyes watch you, almost follow you as you looked around, picking up some pen or notebook to examine, anything to play out your forced meet-cute. You continued walking around, looking at their items as you watched his follow you. Just far enough behind to not be caught.

‘A cat and mouse game? He doesn’t know I’m the cat.’ You thought.

As you were close to checking out, he stood beside you, pretending to look at some shelf of items. You could smell him, under his cologne and fabric softener, you could smell his skin and the richness of his blood. You almost felt dizzy with hunger. He smelt intoxicating.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

You blinked, looking at him. “No? I don’t think so.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He excused himself.

Your peripheral followed him, you couldn’t obviously follow someone, but he was interesting enough to try. You gave the store a final glance around before walking towards the check out counter, this man being conveniently a customer or two behind you.

Buying your items, you made your way out of the store. Keeping a steady pace to let him follow you, no matter how slow or fast me was. You could smell him come closer, slowly stalking you as you feigned prey. If he did something you could always eat him, you had the strength to do so.

You walked around, window shopping along some shop displays before moving towards an alleyway. This was a shortcut to the grocery store you’ve gone to, but you’re sure he doesn’t know that. You’re sure he’s like anyone else and takes a car or taxi around the city, using surface streets to move around opposed to the inner labyrinth of the alleyways between buildings.

You began walking into the alley, despite the lack of rain there always seemed to be puddles lining the walkway, probably from bad pipes. You could feel his eyes watching you, a giddy sensation beating through you: your heart beat faster, you felt a slight vibration feeling along your genitals. Something erotic about turning the cards on prey.

He began walking faster, trying to catch up to you, you turned a corner, glancing back at him as you test the waters. He followed you there, gaining on you. He almost behind you now. You felt a surge of anxiety shoot up your spine.

You began counting your choices: 1, start running. 2, turn and fight him. 3, you were sure there was a third option but you couldn’t think with the building anxiety.

Your pace sped up, it had been speeding up since you counted, turning on your heel with wide eyes, you threw a punch at him. Your punch landed on his ribs, you felt your knuckles bury into his bones, he was still walking as your fist was already colliding into his body. His breath flew out of him, falling backwards onto the asphalt beside some shop’s trash cans.

“Holy shit.” He barely spoke out.

“The fuck are you following me for?” Your voice was stern, almost reprimanding.

“Okay,” He tried taking a breath, still on the floor, “I was being a creep.”

“Yeah you fucking were.” You were about to turn on your heel again, walk away from him but his scent was even more intoxicating. The blooming of a bruise was pooling blood into his skin, wafting his scent to your nose as you kept your face stern and hard.

”I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, “Now you’re sorry.”

“I should’ve been less stalker-ish and acted normal.”

You walked over and crouched down to be, almost, face to face with him.

“Yeah, you should have.” You gave him a half frown.

“I’m Shotaro.”

“Now I can give the police station a name.”

“Please don’t!”

You stood, grabbing his wrist to pull him up.

“And if you punch like that, I surely wouldn’t wanna piss you off any further.”

You smirked feeling empowered by his comment, “So what are you doing following people throughout alleyways?”

“I still think you look familiar and wanted to ask for your name.” Shotaro explained, “Which is?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” He thought for a moment, “Never met a y/n before.”

“And I’ve never met a Shotaro before.”

“And now we can no longer be strangers.”

You laughed at his smile, “No longer strangers but I promise we’re far from friends.”

“I can live with that.”

His carefree smile and speech was almost irritating. How could a man just follow someone throughout a maze of alleyways and laugh about it?

“Where was your escape plan? You have to be going somewhere, unless you’re confused in these alleys.”

You looked him up and down, “I was headed somewhere, a grocery store, but you don’t have to believe me.”

“I do.” He laughed.

Shotaro moved a step closer to you, his scent growing stronger. He was sweet but not sugary. Not like a strawberry, not tart, but not dry like blueberries. Something different, something fuller. You had to remind yourself to be patient, you can’t just feed off of him now. Not in some place so public.

“What are you thinking?”

He leaned down to look at your face better.

“How trustworthy you are.”

“I am trustworthy, bad introductions.” He laughed, walking closer to you.

His scent kept getting stronger, maybe it’s not quite fruity, it’s sweet but fuller bodied. An assortment of scents melting together.

“Sure, we’ll start over like nothing ever happened.”

“I didn’t follow you into a creepy alley.”

“And I didn’t punch your ribs.”

You fake laughed while he began walking past you, looking back for you to follow. Reluctantly, you followed him.

“So, y/n, do you work?”

“Yeah, receptionist.”

“Ooh, nice. I’m a teacher at this one dance academy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He smiled.

You continued talking, slowly opening up about yourself as you found your way to some bar.

“Do you drink?” He asked.

“Only occasionally.”

“Is this one of those occasions?”

“Sure, I’ll have a drink.”

You two sat at a table together, ordering drinks before asking the bartender for more mixer. This wasn’t something you’d want to be drunk for.

“Are you a night owl?” He asked.

“Definitely.” You answered.

“That’s the most enthusiastic you’ve been so far.”

You laughed at Shotaro’s comment, “Hard to be enthusiastic when I’m with someone I just punched.”

“It still hurts, you have a good throw.”

“That’s a weird comment to say thank you to.”

“Do you have any interests- or no that’s not how to phrase it.”

“I guess I like gothic stuff, like vampires and gothic literature.”

Shotaro perked up in curiosity, “Cool, most of my friends just like working out.” He laughed.

“Really?”

“Some make music, but the main reader likes sci-fi.”

“That’s still cool, I’ve never been able to get that into sci-fi.”

The more you talked the closer you two scooted closer. You were more drunk on the scent of his blood than you were on the cheap alcohol put in your drink.

“It’s a bit late, oh! Would it be bad to ask for your number?”

Shotaro stared down at you, his round eyes almost pleading for you to say yes.

“Sure.”

You took out your phone, exchanging numbers before you stood to walk home.

“May I walk you home?” Shotaro was quick behind you.

“Only if you’re walking beside me and not behind me.”

Shotaro quickly moved next to you, keeping you on the inside part of the sidewalk. The walk was peaceful, quiet but not uncomfortable. You wondered how you could pull this off. Not tonight, though. You can’t tell him about your condition tonight. Maybe later, maybe you’ll watch him around here and there before thinking of a plan.

Arriving at your apartment building, Shotaro awkwardly leaned against the stone exterior.

“If you’d like you can come inside.” You said.

“I can?”

“As long as you don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“I can do that.”

You lead him to the elevator and to your floor, turning your lights on, you display your apartment to him. It’s never messy, you hate how bugs already gravitate towards the dark, but you are in need of a grocery haul.

“This is nice, I thought there’d be more gothic stuff.”

“More than velvet pillows?” You laughed.

Shotaro sat on your couch, enjoying how plush it was.

“Are you hungry? I can order something or try to cook.”

“What restaurants are nearby? I live more west of this area.”

You thought about it, “There’s a few Thai and Chinese restaurants, some more commercial some more authentic, a couple pizza places, there’s also a seafood place who delivers.”

“Hm, maybe pizza.”

“Okay.” You smiled.

You called in your order, sitting and talking with Shotaro until it came.

“This is really good.”

You nodded, “I’m sure it’s a front but a lot of people still eat there.”

He laughed, “Oh, what time is it?”

“12:30, why?”

“I have a class at 9, it’s fine though.”

“Did you need to get home? I can drive you. Unless this is your way of asking to spend the night.”

“I think I’d be stepping over a boundary if I asked that.”

You two cleaned up before helping him home, Shotaro was insistent on walking but did ask for you two to keep in touch.

“Where is your dance academy?”

“Off of broadway, kind of near that art museum.”

You nodded, you think you can picture it but it can’t hurt to drive by. Closing the door behind him, you looked up the academy on your phone. It was a juniors academy, helping younger people begin dancing and specialized in hip hop as well as being associated with the clinic next door, a dance rehabilitation facility.

Your night was filled with searching Shotaro up, finding his social media accounts, linkedin account, seeing photos taken from his friends, you found an old youtube account from his early teenage years, and a plethora of school photos, from picture day photos to sports accomplishments, he was in a couple dance teams before signing up with his academy.

“You’re an interesting one.” You commented.

Checking the time, you saw it was two in the morning. You clicked off of the many tabs littering your computer, stretching from your crouched position. Fatigue hit you, feeling drained of every ounce of energy you had, walking to your bedroom you fell onto your sheets before sleeping.

Your next day was monotonous. Walking around your local grocery store, trying to not gag at the strong scents of everything, and filling your cupboards with your haul. You walked back to your car, it’s been a month since your last visit with the butcher.

You were grateful his shop was nearby, just a street or two away from your complex. You drove over, parking easily before walking inside the rustic butcher shop. The scent of iron was strong, the butcher was grinding some meat together.

“Welcome!” He announced, “I’ll be right with you.”

You looked around at the display of meats, seeing which ones looked good and which were lower quality.

“You’re here for the usual?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” You smiled.

He changed his gloves, walking to the back to get your bottled blood. You were grateful that butchers didn’t always throw that away, “It’s for my low iron.” You explained once and you were incredibly grateful he could give you the pints at a discount.

“We got extra meat shipments, so you have more than usual.”

“Thank you.” You said, taking your money out to pay.

After exchanging goods, you took your bottles to your trunk, placing it carefully in your trunk. Even with the sealed lid, you worried about spilling blood in your car. The drive back home was slow, careful to keep the bottles grounded in your trunk while also obeying the heavy traffic on the streets.

Arriving home, you lugged your bottles into the elevator, hoping no one smells the iron. Even if they did what were they gonna do? You’ve been doing this for plenty of months. Getting to your unit, you placed your bottles into your fridge, always just out of sight from the usual glance into your fridge.

The rest of your day was as slow as ever, washing your work clothes before setting your alarms to wake up. You cooked dinner and warmed up some of the animal blood to have with it, feeling a little quenched after some time from feeding. You showered before falling asleep, not even remembering your dreams, you wondered if you dreamt at all. Was vampirism more of a meditation or were you properly undead as they’re believed.

When your morning came, morning meaning 6:00pm, you ate before getting ready for work. This week was longer, the usual receptionist before your shift was out for something so you’re picking up her schedule alongside yours.

Arriving, it was sunset, the sky was orange and pink with clouds creating deep blue shadows. You set your things into your drawer, locking it before setting up your station. Logging in, you sat there, taking out a book to read while you wait for people to enter or ask you questions.

You could spend hours just reading, which was what you usual did while waiting for your shift to end. Being a part of the night crew, you were used to not seeing people for hours at a time. Most of the time it was your staff who walked by you, never actual people coming in and out of the building.

The hours continued stretching from book to book, checking what was on your computer, reading through files and time sheets, even reorganizing your work desk, seeing what people left or littered onto your workspace.

When the endless hours of your shift finished, you were quick to leave, logging out of the computer and clocking out of work. Your commute home was easy, being right before the morning rush. Arriving home, you ate something light before crashing onto your bed.

You’ve had this routine for a while, working, busying yourself for hours, then falling asleep right as you arrive home. When you’d wake, you’d do some chores, eat something, do your usual things before leaving for work.

Your routine was numbing you harder than usual; this with the lack of feeding was killing you. You were surprised when Shotaro sent you a text to hang out this weekend. You accepted, needing some escape from the hell of your twelve hour shifts.

When your date came, you were excited, wondering when the closest you could get to drinking from him. This obsession was clouding your brain. Your conscience clouded every time you thought of the scent of his blood, something overcame you and made you feel far hungrier than you’ve ever felt.

Shotaro picked you up, driving you to a restaurant before going to a bar he enjoyed. You two talked more, exchanging instagram accounts, and catching up from where you last talked. He was working on a performance he wanted you to come to.

“It is at your academy?”

“No, we don’t know where yet, but some auditorium, I can send you the details later.”

“I’d like to go.” You smiled.

Not long after, his friend began calling him,

“Sorry, this will just be a minute.”

You smiled, nodding as Shotaro walked off.

You were in a more secluded area of the bar, enjoying the privacy while talking to each other. Looking around, no one was near, no one was watching, not even cameras. You felt a cold chill travel your skin. You felt nervous, like you were going to get caught doing something bad. You were about to do something bad.

You dug into your bag, looking like any person trying to find a mirror or mint. You found the small plastic bag, a white powder being held inside. You gave another look around before dropping some on top of Shotaro’s drink, carefully mixing it around with his straw before leaving it exactly how it was left.

You wanted to wait, you really did. But the smell, the strong scent of his blood was too much. You were hungry, so hungry. It was wrong to drug someone to feed off of them but your hunger was clouding your conscience.

As he arrived, Shotaro said sorry, something about his friend leaving something at his house. You could barely hear him, feeling your heart beat in your ears as you saw him begin drinking his drink.

The drug worked slowly, far slower than you anticipated. Shotaro slowly began slurring his words, feeling weird and far more drunk than the few drinks he had could have felt.

“Do you need to go home? Here, let me help you.”

You lifted him up by his side, helping his walk to his car, setting him in the passenger seat, you drove to your home. Careful to not drive too fast for him or other drivers. Arriving at your complex, you helped him into the elevator. Shotaro looked like any other drunk person.

Walking him towards your apartment, he was stumbling more and his consciousness was fading. He laid out onto your floor as you shut your door.

‘Okay, so this is why much stronger people do this, not me.’ You thought, almost dragging his body into your apartment.

Splayed out, his eyes fell shut, fully passing out as you sighed, needing to drag his now unconscious body to your bed. You drug him into your bedroom, pulling him across and up onto your bed, you waited for his breathing and pulse to be lighter before getting your syringes.

Seeing his sleeping figure was weird, Shotaro was so full of life and energy, seeing him asleep felt off. But you shook him around, seeing him well out of it before taking out a fresh syringe and drawing some blood from one of his veins.

You grabbed onto his arm, poking against his skin at random spots and drawing blood. You filled a good 3ml syringe of his blood, transferring it to a shot glass before taking a drink. You felt yourself groan as you dripped his warm blood onto your tongue. The taste wasn’t too full of iron, earthy and full, it was a perfect blend. Thankfully the drug didn’t disrupt his blood, you hated when it did that.

Carefully you pulled another 3ml from him, taking another drink of it before you tried calming yourself down. You can’t take too much, even in these small doses. You felt yourself shiver thinking of feeding off of him. You wanted to, almost needed to, a month of hunger clouding your judgement.

You removed the glass and syringe, not wanting him to question what they were doing here. Before long, Shotaro woke.

“Are you alright?” You asked, rubbing your thumb across his forehead.

“My head hurts so fucking bad.”

You frowned.

“What happened?” He asked.

“I think someone roofied your drink, maybe they thought it was mine.”

“That makes sense.” Shotaro stared up at your ceiling.

“Do you need to go to a hospital? I can drive you.” You shifted in your seat, looking ready to grab your car keys to drive him.

“No, I’ll be fine, I’m just hazy right now.”

“Rest some more if you need.”

Shotaro turned to look at you, “Is this your place?”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“Your bed is nice.”

You laughed, “If you need anything I can get it for you.”

“I might rest some more.”

You stood, making your way to leave the room, thinking of your next plan. If you can keep doing this you can have some kind of regular feeding. But if it’s too often then Shotaro could catch on that you’re the only drugging him. Maybe he could grow a tolerance and wake up in the middle of feeding.

You could do more when he’s over, adding it to his water, maybe convince him he’s a lightweight. You turned around, hearing him call out for you. Walking into the door way.

“What’s wrong?”

Shotaro coughed lightly, “Could I get some water?”

“Of course, here.”

You quickly walked to your kitchen, getting him some water before stopping. You could drug him more, or you could wait, or you could do it. You quickly got a small bit of the powder and dashing it into the water. Stirring it enough to dissolve the powder before bringing it to Shotaro.

Walking back into your bedroom, you watched him drink his water, slowly lulling off to sleep before he passed out. It didn’t take long to pass out again. It was only being half of what you gave him in the bar, but it was probably enough to kick in faster with what was already in his system.

You hovered over him, watching him slowly descend into deep sleep. You’ve never felt this kind of power before, fully in control over someone, you understood why people did this. There’s a thrill that shot right into your core. A tightening sensation in your lower abdomen, you crawled over him and straddled his lap, sitting down before leaning in and smelling Shotaro.

You groaned, opening your mouth to lick and kiss along his neck, your hips grinding into his as you bit onto his skin. You had to stop yourself from latching on and sucking a hickey into his neck, any evidence of what you’re doing could ruin everything.

You felt his dick begin to harden below you, you crawled down, pulling the covers off and freeing him out of his pants. You could feel him twitch in your hand, slowly rubbing his shaft up and down as you could almost smell his blood in him. This smelt far muskier, being such an intimate area.

You licked his tip, pushing some of his length into your mouth, almost tasting the blood that was so close to your tongue. Pushing him farther into your mouth, you groaned thinking of how he’d taste from the tap. You looked up at him, feeling a thrill shoot into your core as you saw him sleep peacefully. Not even scrunching his brows or twitching his mouth.

You pulled off of him, tucking him back into his pants before you crawled upwards. Leaning over to your bedside table, you took out a small pocket knife, you always kept it there for an attempt at self defense but you didn’t think it would come in handy one day.

You gave his neck a light flick, seeing a small bead of blood form and drop against his skin. You latched onto the cut, your lips kissing along the wound as your hips found their way back to his. Rutting against him, you continued drinking from his neck, even the small amount felt filling on your tongue.

You pulled down your bottoms, grinding closer against Shotaro as you continued drinking. If you had less control you’d bite him, as your tongue drug across his neck you thought of how you’d eat him. Your hips slowing grinding against his, elongating your pleasure as you pictured it.

You’d, of course, bite and drink along his neck and chest, but you wonder what his flesh tastes like, biting against his calf or thigh. The visual of blood dripping from your mouth and smearing across his skin. The look of his face as you bite down, the visuals of pain and pleasure don’t look too far from each other. How his meat would feel against your teeth.

Shotaro’s a dancer, he’s lean and strong, perfect for quick bites or slow roasting. You felt your teeth hover and lean into his skin, not biting or dragging, just pressing light against him. You could bite him, you want to, but something pulls you away.

As your hips rut a final time against Shotaro’s, you feel full. Your hips shaking, arms close to giving out and falling onto him as your orgasm hits you. You look at the wound, almost closed by white blood cells as you remove yourself from on top of Shotaro.

You’re going to find a way to keep him for as long as you possibly can.

[melpmne]

welcome!

i'm T! my main is @choerrysjubiles (here you can find non dead-dove works)

this blog may include sensitive/uncomfortable themes! i do not condone anything on this blog!

this blog will not be updated as frequently as my main! i only write dark content when i'm stressed, i do enjoy darker fiction but i can easily fall into a bad headspace so i hope you be can understanding!

about me / masterlist

asks/anons are always appreciated!

moodboards are usually found from pinterest pics and dividers are from @/saradika-graphics

rules:

who i write for: i'm most comfortable writing for riize but i love a lot of other groups! you can request whoever (bg or gg) :]

what i write: omegaverse, stalking, violence, horror, menstruation, pegging, dom/sub themes, religion, pet play, hybrids, cheating/infidelity, mommy kink, sub and dom idol (same with reader), probably more i just cant think of them rn

grey area: step/faux-cest! when i write this i often make it more psychological! doesn't have to be smut but i can write that if requested

what i dont write: no daddy kinks pls! i dont hate daddy kinks but i prefer other types of dominant male idol fics!

i don't enjoy anything related to feederism or eating disorders either :( also no scat

thank you for reading <3

[melpmne]

Masterlist

most, if not all fics, are nsfw!

riize:

shotaro

Hunger - tw: cannibalistic themes / noncon / blood drinking / drugging

eunseok

Lost? - tw: noncon / crying / infantilization / red riding hood retelling / manhandling

sungchan

Pop Your Cherry - tw: coercion / rough sex / manipulative!sungchan

wonbin

In The Mood For Love - tw: stalking

ive:

liz

Soft - tw: emotional incest / violence