#I guess it's all about your preferences in a love story

[sciderman]

it feels quite poetic to read about how you prefer writing the blog over drawing it. you put so much effort into the art, and you've built your entire career around art, but it feels like your passion lies on the side of literature. i'm kind of going through the reverse, where i'm pursuing a higher education in writing but have recently wondered if i should've done animation instead because i love it so damn much.

i dunno. life is weird.

heh! it is a funny old world - i mean, i've always loved writing, and i actually have been writing long before i got into drawing. i used to write short stories as a kid. like a little freak. what kid is into writing. but i was. but the only person who was ever interested to read my stories was my dad. you know, if a kid hands a page of words at you what are you gonna do with it. my dad thought i was awesome, though. i think he was extra proud because he's a writer too. thought his little one was following in his footsteps. i fancied myself a little novelist. but you know. it was hard to get people to want to read my stories.

there was another kid that was good at drawing that got all the attention. and i said. "well. i could do that." and so then i started drawing. i started making comics, really. i took my stories and drew them out, and suddenly people got interested in my stories.

everyone is so alice-coded. you know.

i made comics. i rarely drew without there being a story and dialogue attached to it. i filled sketchbooks upon sketchbooks with comics. it wasn't really art for art's sake - it wasn't because i wanted to get good at drawing - not really, it was a vessel for my jokes and for my stories. so no matter how crude the illustrations were, it was fine as long as i got the joke or story across. i think you might notice that with my comics still - they're not very polished and i don't labour a lot of time over the art, i don't really care to render everything perfect - i like things loose and quick and imperfect. i'm not very precious. as long as it gets the story across.

so it's funny, really - i started drawing because i wanted to spotlight my writing and get people to read it. i just have to spoon feed it to people, is all. sweeten the deal with pretty pictures. then people will read. so i never left writing. never, never. it was kind of always at the heart of everything i did. i guess i pursued animation because it was a marriage of a lot of things i was interested in. writing, storytelling, drawing - and acting. i was a stupid little theatre kid. and to be a good animator, or any kind of visual storyteller, i think - you need to be a good actor. and you need a good sense of humor. if you don't have those things, you'll be a rotten animator, i think.

i think i'm still in the place where writing was my first love, and i enjoy it the most - but, still in the place where - when there aren't pictures attached, you don't get people's attention. and i love attention.

for a time i really thought i should quit animation and pursue a career in screenplay writing - but, i don't... really know how to go about it. and i'd definitely miss art. i really really love things like character design and visual development and visual storytelling far too much to restrict myself to writing exclusively. but - i don't know, in my free time, when i'm not on the clock, well - writing is more laid back, and more relaxing. less taxing. so i enjoy doing it more. in my free time.

(it may also be because writing isn't a huge part of my day job, so it feels more like an escape. that's why i don't really animate at all when i'm not getting paid for it. i don't do animation for fun. i have fun doing it, sure, but i won't do it unless i'm cutting a check from it. because i don't have the energy for it otherwise. if i'm not making money, i want to do something relaxing, that doesn't feel like work. and that's writing.)

[kaybreezy3000]

You say five likes blonde women, I think five doesn't give a shit what color someone's hair is. Dolores usually has no hair at all, does that mean Five likes bald women?

No it doesn't, it just confirms that Five doesn't give a shit.

Dolores even has brunette hair in one episode and? Five doesn't care, if Five cared he would have said something about it.

Saying that Five only likes blonde women because he looks at a dancer and flirts with a woman who has blonde hair is kind of weird.

Dolores most likely had a blonde wig on at the beginning, which is why he imagines her like that.

Wow. There's some very anger laced 'shits' dropped in this one and I even got passive aggressively called a weirdo. This is me after reading this.

Just kidding. I am not Ron Burgendy and I didn't get this unpleasant message while in a telephone booth.

This is not my first comment on here that's not all that nice, and I am not shocked by it at all. I figured there'd be people who would get bent out of shape by my reply, but this anon ask I received today makes me think about people I care about on here who have been hit with mean spirited comments. It's so sad that people feel the need to do this in this way, and it worries me because there are people of all ages on here just trying to chat and make friends with people who are into the same things as them.

My point in answering it is not to start a pissing match. It's to make note of what my real reply actually said because this person got it all sorts of wrong. I also want to make people aware that this stuff happens a lot on here and other sites, and it really shouldn't.

I think we all agree that this is not the place to spread hate and angry speeches at people. This fandom is a kind one that is full of enthusiastic people that love the show and the characters and just want to have fun talking about them and speculating all sorts of things. With that, many in the past have made fun intended posts pointing out that the Hargreeves men tend to have a thing for blondes, that being Grace is blonde, Sissy was blonde, Dolores was blonde in Five's trippy spit goober moment with her, and even Lila dyed her hair blonde. That said, we all know that Sloane is not blonde, and Harold wasn't either, but that was not the point, and it didn't even occur to me to blast them with shit bombs of anger about it. It was just an innocent musing, and I am assuming the person who wrote this for me would take issue with that innocent musing as well.

The point is, sending anonymous asks to people like this is not a cool thing to do, but I am guessing the person who wrote it is aware of that. People on here and A03 and Reddit get hit with this kind of negativity all the time on their ideas, stories, and art, and I wish those that feel the need to so bash others would think twice about it and look back at themselves and try to figure out why they are so mad about such silly things and if it really makes sense to feel that way at all.

That said, I seemed to have hit a sore spot with this person with my response on the original 'ask' someone gave me on Five maybe liking/or having a preference for blondes.

Link to the original post.

To the person upset, keep in mind that Five is a fictional character from comic books and a Netflix show. Five Hargreeves, in his mind, one that isn't even real, other than in what the actor gave us with his brilliant insight and the helpful direction of the producers, and what we individually like to imagine for him, may not as you said, 'give a shit what color someone's hair is or have any preferences when it comes to attraction.' But there is no need to be so upset or blow me up like this about it and I'm not so sure you even read my response because I myself fictionally see him with many other kinds of people.

You apparently by what you said above, have direct knowledge of what this fictional character would say or do, so maybe instead of posting this to me in your anon mad person style, you can do a post and speak your mind on the topic and give your reasons for your thinking and back it up with stuff from the show or comic or don't back it up with anything at all-anything goes on here, not sure if you noticed that yet.

I am sure you are not the only one who thinks I am 'weird' for what I came up with and my reasons. You are not the only one out there that thinks I am horribly wrong for my interpretations of these scenes. And maybe you are right that Five would 'say it out loud if he cared one way or another if someone was blonde or not.' Not that you agree based on your emotional statement, but to me, that really is neither here nor there because the show didn't have that happen and the topic didn't come up for Five to say anything like that. I was only basing my reply off things actually shown us, so that's why my response was stated the way it was. You can think and do as you please, just please don't fire your opinions so vapidly and maybe do it with your actual username next time. If you really feel this way, you will have no worry putting it out there for people to respond directly to you.

I'm not a beautiful blonde or a sexy club dancer and I don't feel called out by the show making it look like Five likes blondes and likes watching girly shows, so I am not sure why you'd be so miffed about the idea the show gave us or it being discussed between fans of the show.

Someone can have a liking to a certain attribute in others but not have it be the only way they like things. My intention in answering that ask was in fun and simply looking at the things that point to yes, based on the show and the parts it gave us with Five and him eyeing up women, it does give the impression that he likes/enjoys blondes. The dancer part doesn't really matter, but he was at a club with scantily clad dancers so... yeah again, try to chill out about that, it wasn't even a point in what I was saying, it was just what the show had him doing.

I never said Five only likes blonde women because he looked at a dancer and flirted with a woman who has blonde hair. It's weird to me that you read all that and that's the take on all of that you chose to get disgruntled about.

The main part of what I wrote that matters was that if Five didn't like blonde hair, he never would have envisioned Dolores as a blonde in season 3 when he had no reason to otherwise. That said, for all I know, he could have seen her with a different color of hair every other day or even as a bald piece of plastic like she really was.

Again, my reply is only based on the source material they gave us, not my own projections.

Dolores's wig was actually brown-ish auburn in the store when he found her there in season 1, so it's probable it was still the same wig she had on when the blast happened. Five may not have seen that though because it may have been ruined and it may not have mattered to him in what he later saw her as. I mention that in my post and in the comments on the original post after someone else pointed that out who seemed upset, and I also said many other things in regard to Five and his seemingly being into blondes on the show, and that I personally feel very flexible on that idea. I write and read about him with other types of people-not all blondes.

Five Hargreeves is just a fictional character, so we can all put our own take on him and his preferences and that is all good with me and I encourage it. The post I did was merely intended in good nature to chat with a fellow fan and to discuss the show's version of him based on the scenes they gave us.

Perhaps trying to look at it less seriously and go with kindness towards yourself and others, and perhaps doing some personal reflection next time if something so unimportant sets you off is a better place to spend your time.

Or...my suggestion to all of us on here would be that if you see something you don't like, ignore it. My ideas and thoughts and art and stories are nothing but jack-shit in the big scheme of things that matter. So, ignore the post I made like so many other posts out there that I am sure don't agree with you.

As always, ☮️&❤️ and long live TUA fandom-you are a uniquely passionate crew and I love you all,

Breezy

[izzysillyhandsy]

"Izzy isn't the main character" - no of course not, that's not why his death made me sad. It made me sad that I will never see my favourite character again - in a show that I would have loved without him, but that I loved even more with him. It's the lost potential of his character in relation to the main characters that bothers me the most.

For me it's all about Izzy's relationship with Ed in all its fucked up glory. Give me two codependent, obsessed, can't-live-without-you-but-someday-I'm-gonna kill-you (we'll probably die together), violent but extremely vulnerable people who have so much history - and love; although some of it turned bitter - you can feel it in every interaction.

And mix it up with Stede - fascinating on his own, and definitely a main character - who comes between this dark, weird, incomprehensible entanglement like the prince cutting his way through thorny brambles to reach Sleeping Beauty's castle (the original name "Thorn Rose" is even more fitting).

The drama! The conflict! The jealousy! The romance of it all!

I love that Izzy gives Ed/Stede a different spin, it makes Ed darker but also more complex, and it acts as a parallel love story that seems to be everything that Ed/Stede isn't. But then in S2 you realize: wait - they're not completely dissimilar ("He's a complicated man"). The strands are converging. It's all about love, and Izzy and Stede love Ed very deeply, while Ed loves them both in different, but equally important ways. It's almost as if they represent the two sides of him that need to be reconciled before he can truly be himself.

That's why, for me, removing Izzy from the equation was a mistake, and so much potential was lost. There still was a fascinating story to be told, and the loss of that story hurt me the most.

Yes, Ed and Stede are the main characters, and their love story is the main story. In many ways, Izzy is the past, and Stede is the future. But Izzy and Ed and their intense emotions towards each other (it's no secret how much I love the murder/suicide scene) made the story more complex - and with Izzy and Stede growing to accept, understand and even grudgingly respect each other I was hoping for something extraordinary in S3.

Izzy's death put all those potential story arcs to rest, and I would have loved to have seen them explored.

Also, Izzy was fuckin' hilarious.

[bmpmp3]

one of my favourite character relationship dynamics, platonic romantic or anything, is when two characters are absolutely the bestest of best friends and when one is hurt or something the other will scream and cry and wail and explode and when the other is in danger then the first one will go on some kind of silent terminator-esque rampage about it. besties (do no separate)

[tasmanianstripes]

People need to practice minding their own damn business

Don't come into people's inboxes giving unsolicited advice or criticizing their personal stuff. Don't reblog somebody's posts saying how much you hate it and their opinions.

Don't like somebody's characterisation, AUs or the kind of art they post? It might even annoy you?

Okay, cool. Go make your own post. Block them. Be a little hater about it to your friends. It's good for your soul!

But don't be goddamn rude to people. Don't make it their problem.

"I don't like what this artist likes mah mah mah"

Here's a wild idea;

Artists...don't need to cater to you. You are not entitles to their work. Nobody on the internet should coddle you and post only stuff you like.

Shocker, I know.

[jacksprostate]

how did you like The Shining?

It was enjoyable, I liked the set design and I do like when a movie has a pretty fluid original soundtrack rather than prescripted beats. Hard not to remember that Kubrick abused the shit out of Duvall. I can see how people get very obsessive over interpreting this movie. I don't think it sparked that in me but it was like, worth the watch. Tbh I think if I didn't know about the immense hype around it I would be even more meh on it. I was sort of always a bit out of place watching it because, purposefully as far as I could tell, it felt as if everyone was acting around each other, without being an interacting whole, which was an effect that just didn't really play out well for me. If I even rewatch it maybe I'll like it more then but for now I'll put it in "It's always fun to watch a movie with my friends but this was solidly mid to me."

[maiko-san]

Catnap + Dogday x Reader ( Part 2 )

<<< Part 1 , Part 3 >>>

Relationship: Fluff

Character focused: Dogday, Fem! Reader

Plot : You're giving Dogday a groom after he got himself covered in mud.

A/n : I will try to include the other Smiling Critters in here, they deserve love too.

A month has passed and things went on normally with your life. All the Smiling Critters get a minor check up everyday either by you or other coworkers.

These mascots work with children 24/7, they often are climbed on, tugged around or have paints/food stuck on their fur.

"I guess that's all of it"

"Oooh! My mane looks even prettier and shiny than before!"

You just finished cleaning up Craftycorn from all the glitters and paint off her white coat and cyan hair. Which took you half an hour to clean.

You put on a pink bow on her braided mane so she looks cuter.

"I really love how you do my mane! You know, we should do this more often! You're so creative, just like ME!"

" *chuckles* I'm glad that you like it, Craftycorn but I am NOT that creative as you are"

You dismiss the unicorn and give a handful of candy for her to enjoy. You call in the other mascot and Dogday pops his head in.

The dog is covered in mud from head to toe.

"Now, what did you get yourself into this time, Dogday?"

It was the third time this week.

Dogday only looks away, both hands on his back as he kicks his feet.

"KickinChicken and I got carried away while playing football, sorry..." /he lied.

You quirk an eyebrow, you know Dogday is really bad at lying. There are no muds at the football field since the field has fake grass carpet.

You wonder where he got all the mud from....oh well.

To Dogday, he likes being around you and wants to see you everyday but the other staff members didn't let him. Not even for a bit.

So the only way for the smiling critters to see you was to getting themselves dirty, either by accident or on purpose.

For Dogday, he did it on purpose so he could see you.

You usher the mascot on to the large bathtub so you could wash him up. You run the warm water over his body and rinsing the mud from his fur.

You know that they can clean themselves up but they seem to prefer having you to clean them.

It's a lot of work to clean a two story high mascot but it's fun.

You and the smiling critters would have a conversation, sometimes the smiling critters would tell them about their days.

Like a child telling their parents what they do at school.

"How's your day at the play care today?"

"It's really fun! We do a lot of things!"

"Oh, really? Tell me all about it. I'm curious"

"We play tag, we play hide n seek, we play red light green light with everyone! It was fun!"

"Did you have fun playing football with KickinChicken?"

"Oh, yes I did! The football was fun but what's even more fun is when you play in the mud!"

"Oh, really? KickinChicken just came a few hours ago and he told me he had fun playing skateboard"

"I—"

"Ha! Gotcha!"

You smirk as Dogday hangs his head down slightly. You scrub off the dirt from his ear and tell him that it's fine if he wants to see you.

Just don't get himself dirty all the time.

"The other staffs doesn't let me see you..."

"And why is that?"

"They said you stole their work...."

"....."

Recently your coworker has been glaring behind your back, gossiping and telling you to quit your job. Saying you were proud of your work which you never at all.

It is not entirely your fault that the mascots prefer you over them.

You knew how these mascots were treated before. It was during your interview at the playcare and your manager gave you a tour around the place.

You witnessed how the maintenance workers strapped these mascots in a tiny space and treated them like a wild animal.

"It is our fault wasn't it?"

"No, it's not. I'll deal with that matter myself and it is not yours to worry, alright"

You gave the canine mascot an assuring pat on the head which he leans into and his tail wagging behind him. You continue with your work and dry him in the blower machine and then you begin to groom his fur.

You notice that his fur had gotten longer by the day, so you decide to give him a little trim.

You hold his large paw, combing out the matted fur and snip some of them so it looks neat.

You did the same thing with his ears and chests.

Dogday watches you do you work, out of all staffs in this place. You are the nicest and the most gentle out of all staffs. You never strap them down or keep them in a small cage.

You treat them like a real person.

Like they used to be.

Dogday wants more from you, he wants to feel loved by someone. Someone that cares for him and everyone's well being unlike those scientists....

You care for him, so he will do the same to you.

You are his angel, after all....

"Alright, everything's done!"

You fix his collar and give his pendant a little shine. You decide to wrap a red scarf around his neck to compliment his orange colour.

"Is this for me, angel?"

"Yeah, it suits you well"

Dogday brings you into a tight hug, with his tail wagging aggressively behind his back. It seems the canine couldn't contain his excitement.

I mean, who doesn't like gifts? Especially from someone you like!

"Thank you! I will cherish it, always!"

"You're welcome, bud"

A/n : Since the first chapter received a good amount of views, here is the second chapter for all of you, sweeties!

I will assume that Dogday is the oldest out of all Smiling Critters, maybe around 13-15. We don't have a clue who Dogday really is but I decided to make him one of the older orphans.

Also, all the Smiling Critters in my stories share sibling relationships! and the reader is their oldest sibling or maybe parent figure! ☺️

[dduane]

Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?

I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.

I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.

I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?

Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.

Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:

It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)

Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?

Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.

So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.

It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.

Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).

And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.

You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)

The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)

Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.

(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)

Hope this helps!

[rinbowaman]

Baby Fever

Warnings: breeding kink, rough smut implied, smut-ish stuff, some minor choking, smut talk (breeding smut talk...if yk...yk). MDNI this is only for the grownups (18+).

Authors note: this drabble is canon to the HHP storyline > : ) I had this in mind for a few days and wanted to quickly draft it for yall to hold you guys off until the treat comes out this weekend 😉

What a gorgeous morning it was; the sun beaming brightly and the fresh, crisp Spring air filled with the chirping of birds, and the newborn flowers blooming in greeting. You woke up alone, figuring Heeseung was downstairs in the kitchen, considering the minor commotion you overheard from the bedroom. You got up and figured that on the first day of Spring, what better way to greet your lover than to wear the dress that he absolutely loved seeing you in. It was a purple mini floral, rather form fitting despite the subtle empire waist line, which gently showed a hint of your curves. The front had a stringed, lace front that tied the scoop neck line together, cradling your breasts and proposing the faint curves of your cleavage. It was both sexy, and pretty, especially when paired with sheer, black, thigh-high stockings, edged with a beautifully elegant damask pattern that subtly hid beneath the hem of your short dress. Your hair was left freely down, since that was the way he always preferred you wore it. He loved your hair.

Every single night, he would run his fingers through your strands, rubbing them together to savor the silkiness of the texture. He never cared to use a brush because it took away the pleasure of feeling that softness of your locks. The way he would drape the length of your strands over his knuckles and rub it against his cheek, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo, which always ended with him leaning in to suck on the back of your neck. If anyone should think that his behavior with your hair is absurd, you wonder what they would think when he looks into your eyes, or take his time to feel your skin...guess that will be saved for another story.

After conducting your morning hygiene, you walk down the stairs. Gripping on the ball tip of the large banister, you playfully swung your way around to face the open view of the kitchen and dining area, immediately making eye contact with Heeseung.

He smiles as he stands on the opposite end of the large kitchen island, with his palms plastered on the surface top and leaned over just slightly over a mug, more than likely containing his favorite coffee drink. He was dressed all in black, a black fitted tee, lightly tucked in black fashionable fitted cargo pants, with a black hat. The lines located at the corner of his lips was all that the bill of his headpiece would allow you to see as he smirks upon seeing you enter the kitchen.

"Oh, y/n! It's so good to see you."

Shocked by the voice from the side, you turn to view over shoulder and saw Steve, one of the frat tenants that lived with Heeseung and the other roommates.

"Hi Steve. When did you come back from vacation?" you ask with a delicate smile as you greet him, when a young woman appears from behind him with a small bundle locked in her arms. "I got back last night, it was so late and I didn't want to wake anyone so I stayed at a hotel. But, let me introduce my sister, she just had a baby two months ago and was in town so I decided to bring her over to meet everyone."

You smile gleefully as you greeted Steve's sister. "Oh nice to meet you." you delicately spoke as she does the same. "It's nice to meet you, your y/n, right? Steve was just introducing me to Ethan and mentioned you, it's so good to meet you."

Your peripherals caught on to Heeseung remaining stagnant in his stance, eyeballing you, Steve, and his sister, Lauren. He takes a sip out of his cup, his eyes never breaking away from you.

"How far along in college are you?" Lauren asks, in which you respond sweetly as you both continue talking about college life. Heeseung remained as he always did when around other people, a bit standoffish and quiet, glaring over and keeping an eye on you. At least he was being a bit more pleasant since he knew Steve, being roommates under the same roof for years now. It was typical, everyone, including the frat tenants, all knew that Heeseung "Ethan" became a walking malice since he began dating you, and it was evident that he cared for no one or anything other than you...you wonder what they would think if they ever knew that there indeed, was an "Ethan" entity that was more than just an english version of his birth name.

"Would you like to hold the baby?" Lauren gains your attention back as she presents her bundle of joy. "Oh...um sure." Cradling the small child, you held him tightly as you cupped him against your bosom. "Wow, you're so good with him." she remarks surprisingly as she straightens her dress and heads to the bathroom to freshen up.

That was to be expected. With all the time spent babysitting for your neighbors while in high school, you were quite used to holding and handling a newborn baby. You sat down on the dining chair and laid the baby against your chest, gently patting and rubbing his back, all the while he drifted off with his head nestled against the crevice of your cleavage.

"Looks like you're ready to be a mom." Steve joked aloud, meanwhile Heeseung kept sipping on his coffee, occasionally eyeing you from the corner of his sharp gaze.

"Noooo." you chuckled out. "I used to babysit for my neighbors, they had a baby that I would look after often." You explained, keeping eye contact on the baby's soft head as you gently palmed the back of it, rubbing the tip of your nose against it.

After some time went by, Steve and Lauren departed to spend a day in the old town, leaving you and Heeseung alone in the frat house. With all the other tenants away to enjoy the ongoing Spring festivals, the house was completely empty, and would be that way for the entire day.

"Can we go out for a walk?" you ask as Steve and Lauren walked out the door. Heeseung gently sets down his cup and issues a subtle nod. "Okay, I'm going to get my phone." you smiled out as you walked up the stairs, with him slowly following close by. Guess he needed to get something from upstairs as well.

He opens the door for you, a traditional habit, and allows you to walk in first. Halfway in the room, you barely caught your breath as you felt a sudden shift in motion with a firm lock around your waist. Nearly levitating you from off the ground, Heeseung swooped, and flung you on his bed, following suit and hovering over your body as you turn to face him. You stutter out a gasp from shock as your hair lays in a massive spread, with a few delicate strands across your face. There, you were met face to face with the devil.

His eyes dark, and his smirk was devious, but you could tell by the minor shine in his iris, he didn't swap over to his other side. The bill of his hat kept the shadow to grace over his face as he stares down. With one hand gripping your shoulder, the other reaches up and starts to pull the string tie at the front of your dress. He pulls, dreadfully slow as you feel the flap of your scoop neckline coming undone; one by one, he pulls each string until the opening was completely loosened. Your nipples peek from beneath the expanded laced string as your dress holds its remaining form. The hem was rolled slightly up from the swing of his strength when he threw you on the bed, exposing those thigh high stockings in full. Chuckling deeply, he pulls the last string on your dress as he spoke out in a shallow tone. "Does my girl want to be a mommy?"

You shook your head subtly. You were just being helpful, there was no way you thought about having children, besides, it was far too early considering you were still in your first year of college, not to mention you were still on birth control.

"N-no..."

"Mm...I think you do." he responds in an antagonizing manner and gently shifts the pieces of hair away from your face. He props himself steady with his palm plastered on your collarbone, and raising his body to rests on his knee caps. There, he takes advantage of your already spread thighs, and reaches in under your dress to scoot your lace panties off to the side. Once you were completely exposed to the cool air, he reaches in and with flickering fingertips, he tickles the sensitive flesh in between your plush folds. You gasp and moan out soft giggles, as did he. With a dark chuckle and biting down his lip, he remains propped to display the full sight of his abdominal region, where you admired the view of his hand reaching down, gently unzipping his black trousers, and his strong veiny hands fishing out the massive and swollen muscle that caused you to gasp at the mere sight of it. You reached up, grabbing onto his forearm as he remained on your collarbone, feeling his thumb swiping over the contours of the bone. Anticipating for what he was going to do, you felt yourself riddling with a burning sense of desire and passion.

You watched as the girth of his shaft and the bulbous tip disappear under the material of your dress as he leans in, and feeds it through, piercing your fleshy barrier until it finally makes its way in. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and speaks against your skin, "no more taking birth control."

"Uh...uh huh...."

"I wanna hear you say it."

"I-I'll get....get off it..."

"Let me take care of you....let me fuck you."

"Mm...mmhmm..."

He raises his form and once more, he props himself up by the extension of his forearm and palm planted beside your head on the bedspread. With his strong hand, he raises it as the tips of his fingers drag along your skin. Gently, with his fingers gracefully wrapping around your throat, he gives a faint squeeze, just enough to make you gasp a separate moan. With a dark and devilishly handsome smile, he gleams under the shadow of his hat; there it was...that eerie and rather handsome smile of malice and passion formulates on that face of his.

"Ready?"

You nod somewhat hesitantly. Bracing for intense pleasure, you knew all too well what was about to come, especially when feeling the throbbing sense of his tip as it barely lies inside you. "Y-yes...yes daddy..." you whispered, grabbing hold of his wrist as you prepare for a momentum that is unlike anything this world could replicate.

"Yeah?...come here, let’s do this, mommy."

> : )

[charlieleclerc16]

A game of UNO*

Summary: Charles and Y/N play a game of strip UNO. The rules are of course made up by Charles himself.

Pairing: bestfriend!Charles x reader

Word count: 4K

Warnings: No actual smut, as in P in V. Just a LOT of tension and ofc sexual topics such as stripping, making out, boners etc.

A/N:  I guess I am now writing for Charles too. This story is originally posted on my other blog, so if it's familiar.. That's why lol. Also, funfact, I actually played a game of UNO with myself to get these cards to be accurate haha

Like they say; as we mature, the relationship matures with us. And so does the friendship between Y/N and Charles. The countless weekends going out to pubs are now spent mostly in the comfort of their own homes playing board games and watching movies. Of course, they liked to go out and drink, and God they still drink quite a lot. But they don’t care for loud music and sweaty people all around them.

Nearly every weekend, when there are no races, they come together and spend time like they always do. Downing a few bottles of white, munching on a delicious charcuterie platter, and just enjoying each other’s company. Today was like no other. Charles perched down in the corner of the comfy sofa and Y/N is getting the glasses ready for the delicious liquid.  

“Can we watch The Notebook tonight?” Y/N said as she walked into her living room with two wine glasses and the bottle of white she had been craving all day. Charles simply chuckles and gives her a judgemental look. “What?” She asks him.

“Haven’t we seen that movie like a billion times already?” He laughs. Secretly Charles is a sucker for a good romance movie and Y/N is all too familiar with his preferences. When they were both still in their teen years and just met in school, Y/N had never seen The Notebook before and Charles insisted she needed to see it.

“I mean yes, but you know I love this movie.” Y/N states, remote control in her hand to turn on the movie with a smirk on her face. She lets out a sneaky giggle, getting all comfy against his body stretched out on the sofa. Charles’ strong arm wraps around her body so naturally. His delicious scent immediately relaxing her. 

* * * Halfway through the movie, Charles gets bored. Each of them are two glasses of wine in and Charles is just ready for some action. He lifts his body off of the sofa making Y/N whine at the loss of contact. He makes his way to her board game stash. His feet drag across the floor and his hips sway from left to right, dancing his way to the cabinet. She laughs at him, the dork.

“What are you doing?” She questions, he is so cute dancing around your living room with his glass in his hand. 

“I am done watching that movie, again. I wanna play a game.” He says with a mischievous smirk across his face. The little twinkle in his eyes tells her he really is up to no good. He opens the top drawer of the board game cabinet and pushes around some of the stuff in there. 

“Ah! There it is.” Charles chuckles. He turns around holding the pack of UNO in his right hand. He brings it back over to the coffee table and opens up the little box as he sits down on the floor. 

“You don’t want to watch a movie we’ve seen a billion times yet you do want to play a game we have played a billion times?” She questions Charles, although she has a feeling that there’s a catch. The look on his face tells her he is not about to propose a simple game of UNO.

“See, you got that wrong baby.” The smirk on his face is only growing bigger and bigger. “There's a twist.” The scared look on Y/N’s face is priceless to Charles. She grabs the remote control to press pause, putting all her attention on the man in front of her.

“How about we add some spicy rules to the game?” The room falls silent aside from the heavy breathing escaping her lips. 

“What do you mean, Charles?” She whispers.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He says as he starts shuffling the cards. “Okay so, since it’s just the two of us, we shouldn’t’ make too many additions. How about every time you can match a numbered card or wild card with the most recently played card, the other person has to take off one clothing item.” His gaze never leaves her eyes. He starts dealing the cards as if he expects her to just go along with his plan. “Let’s also say for every +2 played, the other person also has to take off one item instead of drawing two cards.” And that’s how the rules are played out.

“I don’t know, Charles.�� She says looking down at the cards as she picks them up in her hand one by one. Her first card is a yellow 1. She looks at the second card before she adds it to her hand, a red reverse card. The third card she picks up has her widening her eyes, a yellow +2. She picks up the rest of the cards and she joins Charles on the floor beside the coffee table. She has already decided to play along. 

“What if this ruins our friendship?” She asks.

“Then we’ll stop being friends.” Charles chuckles, lust covering his eyes.

“We can’t stop being friends just because of a game of UNO, dummy.” 

“What if afterwards, you don’t want to be friends because you want to be more than that.” The flirty smirk on his face is weakening her entire body. Fuck. She’s had the longest crush on the man in front of her. Her whole body is yearning to be close to him. Of course, she wants to be way more than that.

“This would have to be the most seductive game of UNO for that to happen.” She tries to shrug off the nerves in her body. Not really doing a great job at just that.

“Shut up and play your first card.”

Charles flips over the top card of the deck. A green 1 lying flat on the table. She takes a look at the cards in her hand. There’s no green so she decides on a yellow 1. She places down the card and a hissing sound coming from Charles’ lips pulls her attention to his eyes. The look on his face looks like pure mischief. His long fingers drag through his cards. He pinches one of them in between his thumb and pointer finger with a big smirk on his lips. God, he looks so kissable. 

She takes a big chug from her glass. Charles slams down his card, showing the yellow 1 matching your card perfectly. 

“I would’ve never guessed I’d be getting you out of your clothes so quickly.” His voice was low and husky. Her wine glass barely touches the table before she brings it back to her lips for another chug making Charles chuckle at her nerves. 

She thinks for a second before she hooks her fingers on the welt of her right sock. Her knees press into her chest and she takes both socks off, one by one. 

“Hold on, this isn’t fair. You’re wearing more clothes than I am.” Charles states as she see his brain calculating. They’re both wearing socks, jeans and a T-shirt. But Charles refers to what’s underneath that. Suddenly she feel thankful for deciding on wearing a bra today, because that’s not a given for every day.

“Well, I guess that’s just my advantage of being forced to strip for you.” She shrugs.

“I did not force you.” He pouts making her giggle. She looks at the table to check back in with the card that’s last been played before diving back into her cards. She can’t help but let the slightest smirk appear on her lips before she plays the yellow +2 in her hands. 

“Fuck.” Charles laughed. “Off with the socks we go.” He continues as he takes both of them off in a swift motion. He adds them to where her socks are piled up together. 

Charles looks in his cards. There is a red +2 in his hand which he could just play right now but he decides to keep that one in his hand for a little longer. Instead, he pulls out a yellow 5.

Y/N sighs, feeling relieved that she doesn’t have to get rid of any more clothes right now. The anxious yet thrilling feeling is riling her up. She have never felt any excitement like this before. Charles and Y/N have been friends since forever and she has had the biggest crush on him for nearly as long. Her eyes always lingered a bit too long when they went to swimming together and he was in just his swimming trunks. Or the goosebumps his touch left on her skin as his fingers danced along her arm as a small sign of affection. Friendly affection, but it still made her feel all sorts of ways.

Both of them play a couple of cards before Charles has a big smirk plastered across his face again. Uh oh. His fingers stride along his cards again before he picks one. He places a red 7 on top of your blue 7. 

“Wouldn’t it be fun if your seven was blue too?” He says as he scooches a bit closer, their legs now touching. 

“Stooop, you make me nervous.” She blushes.

“Don’t be. It’s just me.” Charles reassures her and wraps his empty hand around her ankle. His thumb moves in soft strokes up and down. She knows he tries to calm her down but every stroke of his thumb is sent straight to her clit. 

Y/N plays a red reverse card. Allowing her to play another card since it’s a two-player game of UNO. She’s all out of red so she draws a card, a red 4. She places it down and look back up to Charles who still has his hand on her ankle. 

“Isn’t that fortunate?” Charles teases. 

“Just from you saying that, I know there’s nothing fortunate about it for me.” She mumbles as she frightens the next card that he will put on the table. 

Charles has a twinkle in his eyes looking at the card in his hand. The red +2 is going to get rid of her first clothing item that’ll actually reveal some skin. Charles too had been pining over her for years. He started loving her in a bit more than just a friendly kind of way around the age of 16. Now 10 years later, nothing had changed. Both of them had been dating people, trying to distract themselves from the massive crushes on each other. But at the end of the day, they always came back to each other.

He finally places his card down, an excited look on his face. But she quickly takes her green +2 and smack it down on the table.

“Hah!” She yelps. “That makes two items for you to be gone!” 

“Nah-ah, baby. Haven’t you read the rules before?” He states. “We both have to get rid of one item.” Charles smirks. Mr know it all, why does he know all rules of UNO? Probably because they have played it so many times.

“+2 plus +2 equals drawing four cards. Simple.” She argues but Charles already pulled out the rules from the box. He reads out the bit about how when your opponent plays a +2 card, you have to draw two cards and afterwards may continue your turn. Y/N is kind of sad that Charles isn’t going to get rid of both his jeans AND t-shirt.

Charles takes hold of the hem of his shirt with both his arms crossed before he drags the fabric over his head. In the meantime, she stands up to unbutton her jeans. She gets distracted by the beautiful sight in front of her. His abs are gorgeously on display his toned skin is like a piece of art. Charles had always been hot. But the more he started driving, the more he started working out. And damn did it do wonders for his body. 

“What are you doing?” Charles asks as he throws his shirt on top of both of their socks. He softly chuckles at her eyes staring down at his torso. 

“Ehm, sorry. I was taking off my jeans.” She states, causing Charles to groan. He shakes his head in a disapproving way. “What?” She asks him.

“Should’ve just taken off your shirt like I did.” He mumbles before he picks up his cards from the table. His eyes go from the discard pile on the table to the cards in his hand. There are no more green cards in his hand so he draws a card. Luckily it’s a green one so he places it on the pile. 

“Hmpf, nah. I’ll keep my shirt on for a bit longer.” She mumbles softly. Being shirtless always makes her feel so exposed. Her insecurities would peak without a shirt so she’d rather keep it on for as long as possible. Charles notices how she tries to hide herself. His hand finds its place back on her ankle and slowly travels up to her calf, stroking up and down.

“You have no idea how god damn beautiful you are, do you?” He reassures and she tries to shrug it off.

Both of them have a few cards left in hand but none of them are useful. They draw a few cards, and some of them are played immediately. Y/N look at her cards and forges a plan. With a smirk on her face, she plays a wild card allowing her to change the active colour to blue. But she has instant regret when she sees a smirk on Charles’ face that’s even wider than her own. 

His fingers pick a card from his hand but before he places it down he tugs it back and picks up another one to play. A simple blue 9 lays down on the table. But the twinkle in his eyes never left.

She sighs and take a big sip of wine to empty her glass. She places her cards down on the table and gets up to grab the bottle of wine in the fridge.

“Cute undies.” Charles coos since her shirt doesn’t reach past her bum. 

She comes back with the cold bottle and fills up both of their glasses, emptying the second bottle of the evening. The glasses are a bit full but who cares? She places the bottle down on the coffee table and sits back in her spot.

The plan she made a few minutes ago still works, she plays a blue reverse card allowing her to take another turn since it’s just the two of them playing. Next, she plays a blue skip card to grant her another turn. And last up she plays a plain blue 6. During all three of these cards, the smirk on Charles’ face grew back more comprehensive and she just knows what is coming. 

The blue +2 that hits the table was expected, and is followed by a shout of UNO!

“Fuck.” She mumbles and takes a gulp from her glass. “Fine.” She continues before she grabs the hem of her shirt. She drags it out, trying to hold off for as long as possible. But the anticipation is turning Charles on even more. Of course, he has seen her in a bikini before, but this is different. This feels different.

Her shirt is added to the growing pile in front of the sofa. Charles notices how she feels a bit uncomfortable. Her eyes avoid his and she is unsure where to actually look. His hand reaches out for her and slides from her upper arm all the way down to her hand. He holds onto it for a little while, squeezing ever so softly.

“You really are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.” He reassures her by giving her the exact confidence boost she needed. 

After Y/N plays her second to last card, Charles is able to finish the game by playing his very last card. Leaving him in his jeans and boxers and her in just her bra and panties. 

“Let’s go for another round.” She states and already starts collecting all cards to shuffle them. Charles chuckles at her newly gained confidence. He is so ready to play a second round. 

She deals the cards, places the deck back on the table, and flip over the top card of the deck. A yellow 4 is laying on the table. 

“Since I won last round, you may start this one." 

She places down a green 4 on top of the yellow one on the table. A simple but steady start, she thinks. 

“Oh shit.” Charles says and places down the green 4 he already had in his hand, ready to play. “I’m so sorry, baby. You don’t have to…” He adds, suddenly getting nervous at the realization he is finally going to see her topless after years of wondering and imagining what she’d look like underneath.

“The game’s the game.” She states and lets her hand travel to her back to unclasp her bra. Charles gulped, feeling more nervous than he ever had before in his life. His heart was pounding as he looked into her eyes and saw the unmistakable desire there. He had no idea what she is thinking but he is fascinated by her daringness.

He watches as she pushes the straps of her bra off of her shoulders and drops the garment to the ground. She lets out a deep sigh of pleasure as her breasts become the focus of his attention, and the look in his eyes tells her he wants her just as much as she wants him.

She feels incredibly sexy and alluring. For a brief moment, their eyes meet. She feels a strange and wonderful stirring in her stomach. Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks away. At that moment, she just knows that she is in trouble.

Without saying anything, she swiftly moves on with the game by placing down her green 8. Charles can’t seem to keep his eyes away from her for too long, giving her an enormous confidence boost. 

Both of them place down a few more cards before she places down her Wild Draw 4 card and change the colour to blue. Charles draws his four cards and takes a good look at his cards. He’s having a hard time focusing on the game with the gorgeous sight in front of him. 

He places down two cards in one go, a blue skip causing him to have a second turn, and a blue 5. 

She places down her blue 8 and shout UNO! Charles looks through his cards again to find any card that may cause her to not finish the game. A Wild Draw 4, a +2, anything at all. But all he has is a blue 2.

“Oh my god, Charles. What are the odds.” She chuckles. 

“What do you mean?” 

She places down a blue 2 on top of his. She’s been waiting for this moment ever since he took his shirt off. Her thoughts have been flooded with the idea of him naked in front of her. It’s all she’s been thinking about for the past years. 

“Fuck. You win the game and I have to take off my jeans?” He laughs. Without another word, he gets up, unbuttons his jeans and zips down his fly. His thumbs hook into the waistband of his jeans to pull them down painfully slow. A soft sign, nearly a moan is heard when his bulge is released from his tight pants. Ever since she had to get rid of her shirt Charles’ cock started hardening beneath him. 

She gasps at the view in front of her. She makes it her mission to get him out of his boxers as soon as possible. The lust in her eyes is inevitable, not knowing where to look. His eyes? His hands, where he is pushing down his jeans? Or his bulge, which is honestly where she just wants to keep looking at.

Tension is rising and she can’t wait for him to add the last bit of his clothes to the growing pile. His jeans finally drop to the floor and he lifts his right foot trying to step out. His ankle gets stuck and she reaches out instinctively to hold the jeans down, helping him get out. She allows him to step out before she adds the denim to the pile of clothes. 

Charles sits back down close to her. Both their legs touch again but now there is no fabric in between holding back the skin to skin contact. She looks down at where her legs touch and look back up to him.

“Hi.” He says with a soft smile across his lips. God those lips, they have never looked more kissable. Or is it just her mind playing games? Her thoughts are all over the place. All she wants is to just push him over, straddle him and kiss him. Everywhere. 

“Hey.” She chuckles before a nervous laugh is heard from Charles’ side. Her eyes drop down to his boxers. He chose to wear navy blue Calvin Klein’s this morning and she is so thankful for his choice. The dark fabric accentuates his skin perfectly. An outline visible around his growing member. 

“Eyes up here, baby.” He snorted as if he isn’t having the hardest time keeping his own eyes away from her tits. 

“Sorry.” She whispers before Charles holds out his hand for her to grab. His thumb dances on the back of your hand. Both of them are quiet for a little bit as they soak up each other. 

After what feels forever but actually are only 1,5 minutes, Y/N speaks up.

“Charles? What are we doing?” She questions him, still holding onto him as she looks their connected hands. 

“Hmm, I don’t know actually.” He replies. His free hand reaches with his forefinger for her chin and pushes her face up so she’d have to look in his eyes. “All I know is that I want you. So, fucking, bad.”

Her eyes light up. She can’t believe he really admitted what he just said and without a second thought she gives in to her desire of just a few minutes ago. 

Y/N lets go of Charles’ hand and pushes him onto the floor by his shoulders. Simultaneously she climbs on top of him, causing a muted “oh” to fall from his lips. He is surprised by her actions and honestly, so is she. His hands grab her by her hips as she sits down on his stomach, avoiding contact with his aching cock. 

Their lips finally connect. Ten long years are coming together in this sweet and lustful kiss. Charles’ right hand travels up and down her side as his left nestles into her hair. The two of them sink into the living room floor, both desperate for the connection they have been longing for. 

His opens his mouth and gently sucks Y/N’s lip between his. He lets go after a few seconds and licks softly over her bottom lip. Her heart races as her spine arches under his touch causing him to naturally pull her closer. She opens her mouth to allow her tongue to join his, going back and forth. 

She moans with pleasure and their tongues intertwine even more vigorously, entangling with one another in a desperate search for more pleasure. Each movement they make is somehow more tantalizing than the last. Their hands exploring each other's body with a deep hunger for more.

Y/N wishes this moment would last forever. She is scared of what might happens next, what if this is just a heat of the moment kind of kiss and they really can’t go back to being just friends. Or maybe that is exactly what Charles meant with his ‘Then we’ll just stop being friends’. 

Charles’ hand roams down her back. He moans a bit louder when he finally touches her bum. She feels a firm squeeze on her left cheek, ripping a moan from her throat. Y/N bucks her hips instinctively at the sweet tingles in her core.

Their lips part for a second and she presses her forehead against his. Both of them are a panting mess, feeling completely out of this world. With Charles’ hand still squeezing her bottom he speaks up.

“How about we take this to the bedroom, baby?” He whispers.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 21] The Right Decision

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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The rest of your trip runs smoothly. Thankfully, Satoru didn’t try to pull another stunt that made you want to gouge his eyes out. Ren is over the moon by going to the beach daily, going to new places to explore, trying new delicious food, and what matters the most, spending time with his mother and father. Sadly, his vacation can’t last forever.

Ren is gloomy the day before you’re supposed to leave, begging you and his father to stay a little longer. Satoru wants to say yes, and he would in a heartbeat if he didn’t have to work. As much as it pains him, he can’t give up everything to be a father. The next best solution is wait for Ren to leave you alone for a minute just to ask, 

“How about I extend your vacation for another week? I’ll leave, and Sayo probably won’t stay either. Just you and Ren.” And it’s tempting. You really want to say yes, but you also want to go back and resolve other issues. Plus, Ren is getting accustomed to getting whatever he wants, and you’re worried that he might become more like his father which is something that you definitely don’t want.

“We can come back some other time. It’s about time I go home.” You answer, and he nods in response. And as selfish as it sounds, Satoru is happy that you declined because he hates the idea of spending a week without seeing his son. It’s crazy to think that he lived a whole life before Ren, and the moment the little boy came into his life, Ren became everything to Satoru.

“Alright… Guess we have to make the most out of today so Ren cheers up.” Satoru says, glancing at his baby boy who’s plopped down on the couch, lamenting himself because he has to leave soon. Unluckily for everyone, it’s a rainy day outside. 

“There’s really not much we can do.” You tell him, and Satoru sighs. He wishes there was something he could do to make the sun come out, but no amount of money can control that. Satoru ponders, wondering what he can do to cheer his son up.

“I got it.” His eyes light up, and he runs upstairs. You furrow your brows in confusion before walking over to sit beside Ren. Your hand runs up and down his back, attempting to soothe him.

“I don’t wanna go home. I like it here.” He kicks his feet into the couch, and you make sure to keep your distance. Ren doesn’t want to go home, he likes it here. He’s with both of you the entire day, and you’re giving him all of your attention, how can he not like it? He knows the moment you go back, things will go back to normal. He’s gotten used to this, he doesn’t want to go back to normal.

“We have to, Ren. Your granny and grammy miss you, and I have to get back to my job.” You tell him, hoping that mentioning his grandmothers will make him reconsider. He loves them with all his heart, but truthfully, he prefers spending the entire day with you.

“I want to stay!” He yells, and a sigh escapes your lips as you pinch the bridge of your nose. He needs to let it out, you know he’s upset. But he shouldn’t be using his voice like that. 

“We’re not coming back if you keep throwing a tantrum.” You warn him before standing up and going to your bedroom. You don’t want to yell at him, so removing yourself from the situation is the best thing to do. Ren is still going to throw his tantrum, and you can only talk about the situation after. 

“I’m here!” You hear Satoru yell from the living room. You’re going to leave him to handle it, not making an effort to get up from bed. Until Satoru calls out your name, and you groan before getting up and walking over to the living room. You smile, seeing how Ren’s demeanor has changed, kneeling down on the floor in front of the coffee table, waiting for his father to open up the box that he brought down. “I remembered I had a board game here.”

“Is this the home you used to come to as a kid?” You ask, wondering why he has the board game with him. Satoru nods in response, sitting down beside the coffee table to open the old box.

 He used to play this game with his dad after getting home from the beach. It’s a game that’s more fun when played with more than two people, but Satoru didn’t really have that option. Regardless, he still had fun with his dad. Growing up, the only time that Satoru actually spent with his parents was the little vacations that they had yearly. He has very fond memories of this place, and of the board game that he opens.

“I haven’t played this in years, I have to read the rules again.” Satoru can’t help but laugh as he takes out every piece. He remembers every time being so excited to tell you about the game, begging his father to take the game back home or buy a new one for his house so he could play with you, but both of them always forgot. Luckily, he gets to play with you for the first time, and with your son as well.

“Take all the time you need.” You answer. Your eyes fall on your son, noting his somewhat puffy eyes. You ask him, “Are you better, Ren?”

“I am.” He nods. Pulling out the game completely changed his attitude. You can’t get too mad at him, he just got into this world. He’s just figuring things out, slowly learning that he can’t get everything even if his father wants to give him the world. 

Like father, like son. Both are sore losers. After losing to you, both have pouty faces and you swear Ren is on the verge of tears. Ren doesn’t nap anymore, but you decide that after all his crying, you’ll put him to bed. You cuddle with him until Ren falls asleep, and once you’re sure he’s dreaming, you get up from bed and leave your bedroom. 

Satoru’s in the living room, going through his phone. You don’t want to be alone with him so you hope that going to the kitchen and getting yourself a glass of water will give him the hint. He can go to his bedroom and scroll through his phone there. However, when he hears you, he says, “Come join me!”

You sigh, but you still walk over to the couch and take a seat on the other end. You pull out your phone, while he turns his off. It’s completely silent for a minute before he clears his throat and asks, “Are you still talking to Suguru?”

“Does it concern you?” You quickly reply. It’s not his business, especially when he doesn’t tell you what’s going on with him and Sayo.

“I want to know if he’s the possible stepfather to my son.” Satoru answers, and you furrow your eyebrows. You put your phone down and look at him before tilting your head to the side.

“What about you and Sayo? She’s the stepmother to my son and you have yet to tell me a thing about your relationship with her.” You respond, and he purses his lips together. You’re right, you’re absolutely right, but this isn’t about him. “I have no idea about your arrangement with her either… The one that she mentioned.”

“We don’t have an arrangement.” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, clearly nervous about the question. He’s not with her out of love, he’s made that clear. Yet… Why is he denying it?

“The same way Suguru and I have nothing going on.” You answer, hoping that’ll make him speak. Although you aren’t lying, you feel as if you have nothing going on with Suguru right now. You’re avoiding his calls and texts, you definitely don’t have a future together after this. “Look, Satoru. I just want the truth, an explanation to everything. Maybe some closure.” 

The man takes a deep breath, and you know that he’s about to tell you the truth. You can read him like a book. Satoru bites down his lip before confessing, “I didn’t marry her out of love but out of convenience.”

That’s certainly a start, although you aren’t too shocked. Maybe you are a bit surprised since you assumed they fell out of love instead of straight up thinking it was arranged. He takes another deep breath before he says,

“When my father died, my mom knew that I wouldn’t be trusted with his spot… Since I was considered too immature. Also for other business purposes, merging the company that Sayo’s family owns with our own.” He begins, and you feel a pain that you haven’t felt in years. A sudden pain that consumes your body in a matter of seconds, and it only gets worse with his words. “There was another promising candidate that would’ve handled the job while I finished my studies, and my mom was scared that we would lose control. I’ve never been too well liked by them.”

You look down at the couch, feeling your eyes getting glossy as he speaks. You thought you were over this, you really were. He continues speaking, “Getting married to Sayo was my mom’s great solution… Getting married to a woman with status would show how mature I was, ready to take the spot.”

“And… I agreed. We would get married and stay like that until I had my job. I could show that I was great at what I was entrusted to do, and then I would get a divorce.” He explains, and you exhale. Your nails dig into the fabric of your pants, trying your best not to cry… This is why he did it. Money. Money was more important to him than your relationship.

He changed his number and completely blocked you out of his life. He treated you like he always did when you weren’t convenient to him. With contempt and superiority. As he speaks, you realize that you will never manage to be together without some kind of issue.

“I– I’m sorry.” He says, as his hand goes to your hand, but you jerk it out. It’s no surprise that he didn’t want to tell you, he’s right for not telling you. You almost would’ve preferred to hear that he left you because of love for someone else. 

You try not to let a single tear slip even though your heart breaks again. You would’ve left anything and everything behind for him, yet he didn’t even think twice before leaving you. And Satoru feels speechless as you’re on the verge of tears. He tells you, “It was a dumb decision, and given the option again, I would leave everything behind for you and for Ren.”

You stand up from the couch. You suddenly feel suffocated in the room. He wouldn’t choose you if he had the option, he’s only do it for Ren, and that realization makes it hard for you to breathe. But you’re glad he did it. It wasn’t his first time, just this time you realized you would never be his first option.

“No, you made the right decision.” You try to smile at him, attempting to hide the fact that tears are streaming down your cheeks. “Thank you for picking right.”

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

The crushing | joel miller x f!reader, 5.2k

Summary: This is the story of a man who had everything in the palm of his hand and traded it all for an empty space in the hollow of his heart. Or This story follows Joel, two to three years after he cheated on his wife.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, ANGST, cheater!Joel, Joel's POV, this is NOT “The Falling” from Joel's POV, brief mention of smut (p i v) but nothing too graphic (I think), self-loathing, depression, therapy, flashbacks and memories from the past, alcohol consumption, Tommy being a supportive brother (eventually), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Ok, so, Joel gave me a whiplash on this one, he was either staring at me through the screen giving me nothing, or he was mumbling unintelligibly in my ear while I was trying to keep up with him. It started out as a final chapter, but I really think that this part should be Joel's POV and the next and -probably- final one should be the resolving, however that may come. I guess it can be read as a standalone, but if you're interested, it's a sequel to “The Falling”. I edited it seven thousand times because I kept adding things along the way, so I hope it all makes some sense and there are not too many mistakes.. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all! 🥰😘

P.S.: I just wanted to take a moment and let you know that I really appreciate everyone who has read, liked, commented, reblogged and asked about “The Falling”. I honestly didn't think a single soul would take the time to read that kind of story. It means more than you know and I didn’t take lightly how close to home this fic hit for some people; yet you’ve given it a chance, sharing some of your own experiences with me. I love you all, take care and I'll see you -hopefully- in the comments! 🥹🫂

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

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...need your reassurance...

...your only focus…

...for the foreseeable future...

He did make it his sole focus. Because of course, he closed the deal, even after he left that damn table like a madman. He still found a way to get what he wanted. That's the man he was. And he wasn't sure if he hated himself for it or not. But self-loathing was a daily occurrence now, so one more reason added to the list was nothing he couldn't handle.

For two years he would wake up every day, is it called waking up if he doesn’t sleep at all?, he would work his ass off, he would go home, he would sink into despair and then he would start all over again the next day. A vicious cycle consisting of 730 days in a row. The deafening silence within the walls of the house was excruciating, the loneliness was unbearable. Even the light penetrating through the windows seemed different than when you were there with him, a dullness surrounding every corner of the now barely lived in space.

You. He hadn’t seen your face in 730 days. He hadn’t smelled your scent or touched your soft skin. He barely listened to your voice anymore, any form of unavoidable communication, you preferred to be conducted by the lawyers, or via text messages, at the most. At the 731st one, he finally knew, something had to change. He couldn’t repeat another day, like all the others that came and went. He simply couldn’t.

Tommy suggested that therapy might help Joel, a few times, but he refused every one of them. Maria was keeping her distance, her place was delicate, being his brother’s wife but also his wife’s best friend. Surprisingly, she was the one who finally got through to him.

“Are you gonna stay a recluse for the rest of your miserable life, then?” Maria wonders, switching her gaze between Joel and the dining room. Everything was untouched, as you left them when you moved out, but the place felt empty, depressing, probably mirroring Joel’s existence.

Joel sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m not a recluse..”, he snarls through his teeth, rolling his eyes at her. He was more than eager to be done with the dinner his sister-in-law insisted on having in his house and be left alone, in his natural state. Alone. Infuriating woman.

“What do you call that?”, Maria persists, goddamn lawyer to the bone.

“What?!” Joel spits back pissed off, looking at his brother next, for support.

“That!” she gestures around his body and his surroundings. “The way you go on for the past two years! Either get over it or do something about it!”, she doesn’t hold back, even when Tommy proposes a gentler approach. Yeah, look where it got you, is the paid answer, so Tommy steps back, shaking his head and raising his hands up in surrender.

“You’ve got him on a leash, hm?”, Joel jokes absentmindedly, “Can you breathe alright, Tommy boy?”, earning himself a hard glare from Maria.

“Maybe the wrong Miller is on a leash..” Maria mutters, causing Tommy’s eyes to widen in horror.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Joel retorts doing a double back at her.

“Means that freedom is for those who can bear it.”, Maria throws her napkin on her plate and leaves the room. Joel remains silent, pondering the meaning of her words. It would be a long time before he understood what she meant.

Therapy was hard.

Therapy was hard because he had to do it for himself. He had to concentrate on himself. He thought, being the contractor that he was, that he would walk into the room, get the answers he needed and fix his marriage, just as he rearranged the bricks and the wood and the steel on the construction sites.

But this wasn’t about his marriage. His marriage and the way it crumbled down was the aftermath, he came to learn. It was the outcome of insecurities, selfishness, lack of communication, ungratefulness.

He got it all wrong. Everything. Every little thing. He had to rewire his brain and change every point of view he was holding onto. Honesty. Honesty was the key.

“Why didn’t you reach out to your wife after that night?”, his therapist insists.

“I respected her boundaries.”, Joel was quick to respond.

“And what were those?”

“She didn’t want to see me.”

“Did she say that?”

“No-, I mean-, the way she left that night, she didn’t say much in general. But she blocked my number, so.”, he shrugs in defence.

“So, how can you be so sure that she didn't want to see you? Even if you're right, it doesn't mean that she didn't expect a reaction from you, or that you weren't allowed to try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Why would she? I upset her, she needed time to think, work things out.”, Joel explains.

The therapist swipes her fingers over her lips, contemplating her approach. “Joel, you walk into your bedroom, into what is supposed to be a safe place and you see your partner with another person in an intimate moment. How does that make you feel? Just say the first words that come to mind.”, his therapist changes the point of view.

Joel shudders just at the thought of it. You, naked, flushed, lips parted and swollen, skin sweaty, breaths short and pupils blown wide, coming for anyone other than him. It would utterly destroy him. “Furious, pissed, betrayed, heartbroken.. I think I would lose it, if I’m honest.” he admits instantly, in his haste to throw the abomination of this image from his thoughts.

“I see. But in her case, you think your wife was just upset?”

“No, of course not.” Joel slightly frowns, shaking his head.

“Do you think she felt all those feelings that you just described to me?”

“I believe so, yes.”, god this is so hard.

“You believe so?” the therapist pushes, again.

Joel’s nostrils flare from the sharp inhale, “I know so.”

“So, she wasn’t just upset.” the therapist concludes and Joel agrees without meeting her eyes, “No, she wasn’t.”

Over time, Joel came to realize that his choice of words was a subconscious attempt to diminish the seriousness of his actions.

“You said in a previous session that you gave space to your wife to work things out.”

“Yeah, it was only fair.”, Joel confirms.

“So, it was hard for you to give her that space?”

“Yes, of course, I missed her every day.”

“Was that a constant in your relationship?”, the therapist wonders.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“How did you work things out as a couple, before? I assume you had difficult times as partners, no?”

“Nothing major to be honest, my wife was a very calm and reasonable person. If anything occurred she would talk to me about it.”

“And how did you respond to that?”

“Uh, I was there to listen, we always found a solution together as a couple.”

“Hmhm, so, what changed this time?”

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what she meant.

“Why didn’t you talk to her? Communicate with her? Maybe help her see your side of things, like you did before, find your way out of this together, as partners.” his therapist explains. “And even before the infidelity, did you let her know that something was bothering you, that you felt differently?”

"I didn't feel differently about my wife. My feelings for her never changed.", he immediately corrects her. "My love for her was never the problem," he confesses and it's the first time since his therapy began that he's shared something so personal, so private.

“But there was a problem, something was wrong if you felt the need to be intimate with another woman. So, why did you keep that from her?”

Joel opens his mouth already knowing he does not have an answer. Or that he doesn't want to give one. He shakes his head, raising his brows in a silent admission that he can’t answer that. Or he won't. His gaze is fixed on a loose thread on the fabric of the couch, his fingers keep picking on it.

“Joel?”

“I- I don’t know what you want me to say, I don’t know.” he keeps shaking his head. He can’t answer that. He won't.

He was so angry when he left the session that day. He was so angry at you. He was angry at your honesty, your clarity, your courage to have a mind of your own and to speak it freely, knowing full well that probably no one else shared the same opinions as you did. That's what he loved most about you, but now he hated it.

“Own it, Joel. Own what you have done. At least that way it will be worth something. Otherwise it was all for nothing.”

This was one of the last things you said to him on the phone, while he was trying to persuade you to change your mind about the divorce. You were always so brave about those matters. Matters of the heart, of integrity. He remembers you always talking about things that he found admirable but utopian. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

“I need to be able to sleep at night. I need to own my decisions; not because I’m always right, far from it, but at least I know I’m being honest with myself. And that matters.” he recalls one of your late-night talks.

You usually found it easier to share your most vulnerable thoughts once you were thoroughly fucked and satiated. When Joel held you in his arms, your breaths almost shared over the same pillow, your scents and your fluids mixed together.

“We’re all imperfect beings, flawed; we all feel embarrassed when we fuck up,” you continue, “it’s hard to admit our mistakes to others, I get that. But deep down we always know what we’re doing and why we’re doing it. Admitting it only helps us to be present in our lives.”

“Be present?”, Joel seems fascinated by the way your mind weaves your thoughts together into deeply rooted beliefs.

“Yes, my love, there's no greater freedom than to live your life truthfully.” you smile at him, softly. Your sleepy eyes roam his face affectionately. Your fingertips caress his jawline, your thumb pressing lightly against the bare patch of his beard. He can feel your devotion pouring from your fingers and sinking into his skin at that moment.

“That’s one of my greatest fears, you know. Living my life in ignorance, in a lie.”, you whisper your deepest insecurity against his soft lips. His hold on you tightens as he rolls you onto your back, nestling his hips between your welcoming thighs. You are safe in these arms. His arms. You surrender to him, body and soul. You can feel his growing erection pressing between your folds, already wet from your combined releases. He tenderly brushes his lips against yours and slowly licks his way into your parted mouth, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. He enters you in one fluid, slow thrust, his warm exhale cooling your wet lips. “Then let me give you something real.”

Thinking back to those moments, Joel couldn't reconcile himself to the fact that he was the one who had brought that fear of yours to life. What broke him was that it was not a lie. Your life together had not been a lie. He loved you. In fact, he was burning up for you. He was a man of control, but not with you. Never with you. You consumed his every thought; being around you for too long made his lungs constrict in pain, begging for a deep breath. Sometimes he was worried sick that if he completely let himself love you like he needed to, he would suffocate you. He loved you. And it killed him that his actions suggested otherwise.

But at some point he had to be honest with himself. He was just protecting his ego. He was trying to get the upper hand out of a shitty, compromising situation. He wasn't being thoughtful, he was being selfish. He was biding his time. He thought the longer he left ‘it’ untouched, the less it would hurt when the inevitable time of confrontation came. He was scared out of his mind that he would lose you forever. No second chances, no redemption, no reconciliation.

No lingering scent on his pillow as your hair pools there, under his chin, as you nestle your face between his neck and shoulder, breathing him in. No laughter through the enormous house, damn, why did he build it so big; you never clarified what the disbelief in your eyes meant when he said he built this house for you, while he pulls you up on your feet for a silly cowboy dance.

No more gentle touches, no more noses brushing together as a silent goodbye in the kitchen before you rush off to work. No more turning around just before you open the door to leave, running to him like a little girl, giving him quick, hungry pecks on the lips while he laughs on your mouth, squeezes your butt cheek and slaps it playfully to say goodbye. Later, baby, he would promise you, his teeth nipping at your earlobe and he could feel your skin crawling with anticipation.

No more I love yous, either breathed, either whispered, either panted, as he makes a home for himself inside your warmth.

When did he fuck you last? He used to have you every day. You craved it every day. You craved him. Why did he stop telling you he loved you every chance he got? When was the last time you said it?

A week before that fateful night, when you touched him longingly, aching for him to touch you back and he told you he had work to do, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why the hell did he say that? Why did he sit there and watch the light fading from your eyes? I love you, you said with a sigh against his temple and walked out of his office defeated. Why did you say that? Did you know? Did you suspect? Why didn’t you fight him? You should have said something, anything, pushed him, punched him in the chest, woken him up. Would he have woken up? Or did he need that to come to his senses? Does he have to fall? Does this falling ever stop? Does he have to let you go? Will you come back to him? Does he deserve you?

Days blurred seamlessly into one another. Joel drifted further and further away from everyone. The house haunted him, all the progress he was making within the therapy walls was dissipating once he stepped inside the cold space of his empty house. Leaving the confines of it was his first thought in the morning, while he hurriedly dressed to go to his office far earlier than necessary and his last when he closed his eyes, as he laid his weary limbs on the couch, chasing still your now long gone scent on its fabric, knowing another sleepless night was his only companion until the first rays of sunlight hit the floor-to-ceiling windows to announce the beginning of another day.

People at work tiptoed around him, not knowing how to act. It was as if he was there, but not really. He was focused solely on the Marks project, mechanically going through board meetings, paperwork and supervising the construction site. He. Just. Wasn’t. There.

Joel, will you please sign the papers?

He simply stares at the text message for a good full minute, his thumbs hovering over the screen of his phone. This was one of the rare occasions you had initiated communication with him, always about the progress of the divorce.

No, no, I won’t, the little toddler in him screams, stamping his little feet on the ground.

The papers are not ready.

Joel texts back. He keeps it simple, frightened he might not get an answer back.

Joel, we both know they are. I don’t want any of your assets or your money; this is an easy signature, please.

An easy signature? You think he cares about the houses, or the cars, or the money?

You know I can’t accept that. The house is yours and so is a good part of the money.

The point was to share this house together, Joel, don’t you think us splitting up kind of defeats the purpose? And what on earth makes you think I would ever want to go back in there?

So, there’s nothing I can do to make this easier for you?

Easier? You think money or property can make up for what you’ve done?

Of course not, I wasn’t implying anything like that. Just wanna do something for you, anything.

Can you turn back time?

Of course, he can't. So, he doesn't know what to say to that. He just keeps staring at the screen, lost in thought. After 2 minutes another text follows.

?

You know I can’t..

Sign the papers. Please.

“Is there anything in particular you want to talk about today, or should I take the lead?”

“Actually I’ve been thinking a lot about that night.”, Joel suggests for the first time. He usually lets the therapist decide where to steer the conversation, then simply refuses to elaborate until he feels ready to talk.

“What about it?”, he shifts his gaze from the window to the direction of her voice.

“I should probably rephrase that. I’m always thinking about that night, repeating it in my head again and again and I’m troubled by something I realized.”

His therapist nods to signal that she's listening.

“Why did she just leave? The more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense to me. She just left. No shouting, no breaking things, no attacking either me or-”, her. “Why she didn’t stay? Why she didn’t insist that I leave? She was just- so quiet.”

The therapist smiles in recognition of Joel's near breakthrough. They were beginning to get somewhere, his empathy nudging him under the surface.

“I'm really glad you mentioned that, Joel, so I'd like to take you back to that night and try to understand what might have been going through your wife's mind at that moment," she explains.

“So, she walks into the house, finds her safe space violated by her husband, and she chooses to handle the situation calmly and quietly-” Joel tries to stop her, but she already knows what he's going to ask. “I can't tell you why she chose that path, that's for her to answer, only she knows why.” His therapist continues, “She is making one request of you and one request only, can you tell me what it is?”

“She asked me to leave the house.”

“Hmhm.” the therapist looks at him expectantly.

“I just wanted to talk to her.”, Joel elaborates, “I thought that if I refused to leave, she would accept to listen to me.”

“So you forced your needs on her, while she was in a particularly fragile state of mind.”

“I should have made my intentions clearer, you mean?”

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t have had any expectations in the first place. Why do you think was so important to you, to explain yourself right at that moment?”

“Because I knew it was probably the last time I would see her for a while, I just wanted to ease her pain, why is that so wrong? Should I be indifferent? Would that be better?”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might be depriving her of her right to choose?” Come on, Joel, break some eggs.

Joel now begins to make connections. He rubs his hand over his face, the realization of what has really happened crushing him. “Oh, god, I-” He's been so selfish from the start. He hasn't shown you any respect, not even at this delicate moment. He didn't give you a choice as to whether you wanted to listen to him or not. He didn't even let you choose where you wanted to stay. He just made you leave the house. Did he make you believe he wanted you to leave? That he wanted her to stay? Because he didn’t. Fuck. “-I never thought about it like that.”

Fuck.

How could he be so blind? Why was he so blind?

His therapist insisted on it. Because no matter how much progress Joel made over the course of a year, he never revealed the true reason behind his infidelity.

“Joel, we’ve talked about a lot of things; you’ve tried really hard to make this all about your wife and about understanding what she was feeling and how your actions have affected her, but as I keep reminding you”, she smiles understandingly, “you’re the one in therapy, you need to heal your wounds before you even attempt to heal hers. And although it is in fact a really noble thought, this” she gestures between them, “can only work if you do it for yourself. I know it may sound selfish, but I promise you, it is not. It is the exact opposite.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”, his voice hoarse from sleep as he answers the door after the insistent knock at it. Tommy looks at him surprised once he opens it, “You’re sleeping, already?”. No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t call it that. But when he goes almost a week without any proper rest, passing out is the right word for what he’s doing. “Yeah, I guess I dosed off..” Joel lies. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.” Tommy responds as he squeezes himself through the door to enter the house. “Yeah, sure, come on in.”, Joel mutters under his breath. “You just saw me at work this morning, is everything all right?”

“I just came to check on you.” Tommy confesses uncomfortably.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” Tommy deadpans.

Touché.

“Tell Maria I’m fine, Tommy, no need to worry about me; go spend the night where it counts.”, Joel replies in an attempt to push him away, as he walks farther into the house, rounding the kitchen island.

“Hey, brother, I’m here, I am here for you.” Tommy’s eyes narrow in pain and concern as he stares at his sibling's back, following behind him.

Joel exhales hard through his nose, his grip tight as he grabs the edges of the counter, his head lowering between his shoulder blades.

“You shouldn’t, nobody should.” Joel sighs, rubbing the pads of his fingers across his forehead.

“Ok, that’s enough.” Tommy snaps at him. “Enough self-loathing, enough resignation. Enough. You’ve punished yourself enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “Is that right? Is it enough for you? What about her?” he asks, his head turned to the side, looking at his brother over his shoulder.

“What?” Tommy is genuinely confused.

Joel turns his back, resting his waist on the edge of the counter, now looking straight at Tommy. “I should have what? Just get on with my life? Let it all be water under the bridge? Disrespect her even more?”

“Jesus..” Tommy mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other resting on his hip, his eyes shut in frustration.

“Are you doing this for her? Does she even know that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Tommy!” Joel raises his voice, exasperated. “I’m not doing this for her, I’m not doing anything for her, apparently and that’s the problem.”, his voice breaks, the lump in his throat too big to push down. “She’s not here anymore, Tommy.” he’s standing fully on his feet now, pushing himself away from the counter, leaning slightly forward, like he’s trying to make his brother understand; his eyes are glazed, Tommy had never seen him so devastated before. “She’s gone. I’ve lost her.”, his palms clenched in fists in front of his chest, resisting the urge to wrap them around his shirt and rip it to shreds, as he wants to do with his heart.

“I thought therapy was working..” Tommy whispers, his eyes dropping to the floor beneath him.

“Oh, it’s working, all right!” Joel chuckles in irony, sniffing his nose. “I’m getting a front-row seat, witnessing what a piece of shit I am-”

“Hey!” Tommy tries to cut him off.

“-what on earth was she doing with me to begin with, is beyond me.”

“HEY!” Tommy's eyes bulge out of his sockets, angry at his brother's self-deprecating words. Joel bends his waist forward, puts his elbows on the island in front of him and lets his head sink in again.

“Ok.” Tommy breathes deeply to ground himself, his hands in a position of a prayer in front of his mouth, “Ok, we could both use a drink.” he realizes, as he moves to open the cupboard to grab two tumblers and the whiskey from the shelf with the drinks. “..or five.”

The two brothers drink their first round in silence, both calming their nerves down. Tommy refills their glasses without asking; he knows this is going to be a long night.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Tommy begins, pushing Joel’s drink back towards him. Joel wringles his brows in confusion, “What are you talking about? You’re always there for me.”

“No, I haven’t, not really.” Tommy admits, “I let Maria take over when all this happened and I’m sorry.”

“There was nothing you could do, Tommy, don’t sweat it.”

“Let me say this, please.” Tommy raises his hand, his palm facing his brother. “I was just- fuck, we all knew how much you loved her, how much you loved each other, so when it all went down, I just didn’t know how to deal with it. What to say to you, how to comfort you. I didn't know how to deal with you.”

“You blamed me.” Joel says matter-of-factly.

“No-”, Tommy weakly refuses but Joel shakes his head dismissively, interrupting him. “It’s ok, Tommy, you should.”

Tommy looks embarrassed, his cheeks slightly pinkish, not only from the whiskey. “It’s just that I- I couldn’t reconcile the image of the man you were with her, with.. you know..”, he stutters.

“..the image of a cheater. Say it.” Joel adds.

Tommy shakes his head, like he still can't believe what's happened. “Besides, while she was staying with us those first few weeks I saw how devastated she was, man- she was a shell of a woman, so I was confused, I didn’t know how-”

“Tommy. Tommy, it’s fine.” Joel feels his skin crawl visualizing you like that in his head, cutting his brother off once again; he deserves every ounce of mistrust and he knows it.

“No, it’s not.” Tommy insists. “Yes, you fucked up. Brother, you really did. You did a number on her-”, Joel’s body tenses instantly at his brother’s words, his jaw clenching as his eyes darken, moving down to his hands, his grip on the tumbler tightening, his knuckles turning white and Tommy stops abruptly, “shit, sorry, I didn’t mean-”, his face twitches with regret.

“It’s the truth. That’s exactly what I did.” Joel’s gaze seems detached as if he's somewhere else right now.

“What I meant to say, is that I should have been there for you in spite of what has happened. I can see you're suffering, it's taking its toll on you, it has been for some time now; tell me what I can do. How can I help you?” Tommy seems almost desperate, like he’s the one in need of redemption.

Your text flashes through his mind, can you turn back time?, making him smile bitterly.

“Can you turn back time?” Joel's repeating your question and as the words leave his mouth he can feel your presence next to him. That's the most he felt of you for the last three years. He's almost blissful.

“You know I can't.” Tommy sighs. Joel laughs earnestly, the irony of the moment too good not to appreciate.

“Joel, brother, please, just talk to me. Help me understand. You act like you’re the one who’s been cheated on. So, what happened? Why did you do it?” Tommy is pleading with him to give him anything.

Silence fills the room for much longer than either of them would like. Joel feels torn between telling his brother everything or keeping his mouth shut. He wants to tell him, he hasn’t told a soul, but he’s not sure he can get the words out. He’s not sure he can bear to hear the words coming out of his mouth. He’s not sure he can substantiate it, make it real. Because that’s how it feels. He talks about it and it becomes real.

But maybe this is the right thing to do. That’s what needs to be done. He needs to talk about it. He needs to tell the truth and admit the pain he’s caused. Make it real for you, too. Perhaps it is time for him to give you what is rightfully yours. Acknowledgment.

Joel’s made up his mind. He’s gonna talk to Tommy. He lifts his glass to down his drink for some liquid courage, freezing his hand in mid-air as the next words fall from his brother’s mouth. “First of all, who was it?”

“What?” Joel's eyes search Tommy’s through his glass for an explanation.

“Who did you do?”, Tommy clarifies.

Joel feels like he’s been struck by lightning. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Who did you fuck, Joel?”, Tommy begins to feel confused, are they not on the same page here?

“You don’t know?”, Joel can barely speak now, his voice low in shock.

“No one does, not even Maria; she never told anyone.”

You told nobody? Not even your best friend? Why on earth would you do that? Did you feel ashamed? Was it just too much to talk about?

But his brain takes pity on him, helping him for once to understand. He’s connecting the dots while your voice fills the corners of his mind through his memories. His head is swarming with images of you standing in that walk-in closet, remembering what you said the last time he saw you. You’re the one I married, not her. I expected better from you, Joel, not her.

You were right.

It didn’t matter who it was. That is why. He was the one making the choice. He was the one breaking his promises, breaking your trust, breaking your heart; breaking you. He was the one who should have known better. He was the one who should have been honest. Easy in theory, hard in practice.

He feels a fresh wave of pain scattering through his body. He welcomes it. Damn, he’s craving it. He’s glad you chose to withhold the identity of the woman. Not because somehow it’s making it easier for him to defend himself, on the contrary.

There’s no one else to blame. Nobody. Just him. All of the anger, the resentment, the disappointment, all of them on him. He embraces them all. Everything. He will take it all, swallow it down and let it rot inside of him.

Joel tells Tommy everything. Everything, but her name.

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Taglist: @southernbe, @orcasoul, @auteurdelabre

[flowersandbigteeth]

Now I’m thinking about how cute of a story it’d be if a human woman reader had a preference towards monster men, but she kept getting used by a lot of monster fetishists to fill their own fantasies. Getting her heart broken constantly as they didn’t see her as a being with real feelings. And eventually she gives up…But of course x monster comes into her life and tries his best to court her cause he actually does love her and see her as a person. Reader of course is very jaded and thinks he’ll use and abuse her too, just like all the others.

If you’re still interested in writing somber stories with a happily ever after in the end, something like this could be fun to explore. The ugly exploitive relationship dynamics taken onto human women by monster men.

Like just imagine reader is sitting in a park, having a picnic, a monster comes up to her, is pleasant, and reader thinks that this is going to be “the one” finally, and gets her heart broken again when he asks her for a one night stand. Or even worse…hands her a card to work at a human x monster exclusive private fetish club…

Um...so I ended up with something close to this, but kind of with a different spin. I've been wanting to do a mothman for soooooo long and this just came together in the right way. So here he is ^_^

Mothman (Roth) x f reader

Word Count: 9.5K

General Plot: Your gargoyle crush asks you out on a date and things don't go as planned.

TW: nsfw mothman smut, moth genetalia, a lot of teeth, kidnapping, sexy pheromones, a bit of violence, reader being tied up and gagged, revenge, mating and soft yandere vibes, bad boyfriends

“Five, ten, fifteen…fifteen,” you sighed counting your tips as you sat on the curb outside the kitchen of the Italian restaurant you worked at. 

Tears bubbled in your eyes as you realized you hadn’t made nearly enough to cover the rent you were already late on. 

“How you doing mite,” a deep voice rumbled behind you. 

You heard a squeak and then a thunk as Tyre, the chef, dumped some trash. Wiping your eyes, you peered up at him, trying to hide the redness on your cheeks. Tyre was a handsome gargoyle with slate gray skin and piercing blue eyes. He smirked as your eyes met. Sniffling, you tried to clean up your face. 

“Nothing, nothing, I’m fine.” 

He glanced down at the odd dollars and some change in your hand. 

“Bad night?” 

You sighed. 

“It’s always a bad night.” 

He scratched his chin, eyes traveling from the top of your head to the slip-proof shoes you had to wear. 

“There’s someplace I ought to take you,” he said, eyes taking on a predatory gleam. “You like monsters, right?” 

You blushed, unsure what to say now that your secret wish seemed like it might be coming true. You’d always had a crush on Tyre. He was big and strong with a rakish smile that made all the waitresses swoon. 

“Um…yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he said, grinning. “You’re off tomorrow night. I saw it on the schedule.” 

You were going to beg for another shift from one of the other waitresses, but if you were only going to make a few bucks, you figured you couldn’t pass up the chance for a date with your crush. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, your breath a gasp. 

He pulled a phone from an apron pocket and handed it to you. 

“Put your address in here. I’ll pick you up. Wear something pretty.” 

Overcome, you could hardly speak, typing your address and phone number into the phone. 

“See you tomorrow night, mite,” he winked before walking back inside. 

The door slam made you jump, but your heart was already pattering. Tyre had finally noticed you! Ever since you’d started that job, you’d been in love with him. It was true. You did like monsters, but not in a weird way. You were curious, but you were too shy ever to ask Tyre any questions about himself. You didn’t want him to think you were a weirdo fetishist trying to get in his pants for a thrill. But finally, he’d noticed you and asked you on a date! 

Despite the lack of money in your pocket, you hopped up from the curb with a pep in your step. Maybe something was finally going right for you for once. 

When you arrived home, you frowned at the yellow notice taped to your door. 

EVICTION NOTICE: VACATE THE PREMISES WITHIN 15 DAYS OR YOU WILL BE REMOVED

Your breath caught in your throat, and you wondered if you should call Tyre and cancel your date. Walking inside, you frowned. Your apartment was small, if you could even call it an apartment. It was only one room with no kitchen or bathroom. You had to use the common toilet down the hall, and you either ate food you brought home from the restaurant or cooked noodles on your hotplate. Still, you couldn’t even afford this little closet. 

Where were you supposed to go? Pulling out the crumpled fifteen dollars, you stuffed it in the large mug with all your tips. You already knew how much was inside. You counted it over and over again every night, hoping it would magically bloom to a higher sum. 

One hundred and fifteen dollars. That’s how much you had to figure out a new home with. While tears bit at your eyes, your feet were exhausted from running around all day, so you flopped on your dipping air mattress and fell asleep. 

You woke to the next morning to your phone buzzing and grinned at the message on the screen. 

“Pick you up at 9.” 

Scooping up the phone, you beamed. As you dropped it on your chest, you indulged yourself in a quick fantasy. You’d go on a date, Tyre would fall madly in love with you, and then you’d move into his flat, have his little gargoyle babies, and everything would turn out just fine. This had to have happened for a reason, right? All afternoon, you skipped around your apartment, trying on your meager array of outfits for just the right one. 

When 9 came around, you sat on the edge of your bed, checking and rechecking the message. 9, he did say 9, right? Right. He’ll be here. 

Thirty minutes later, there was a heavy knock on the door. You tripped over yourself to answer it, eyes lighting up the moment you met the cool blue on the other side. He looked you over, a meaty hand braced against the doorframe, showing off his massive biceps. 

“Look at you, mite,” he said, brushing a curl of hair from your face. “You clean up nice.” 

“Ah, thanks, Tyre. It’s nothing really,” you half whispered, words having a difficult time making themselves past your lips. 

“Come on,” he said, taking you by the arm. “You’re gonna have fun where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, from the inside of Tyre’s Denali, as he cruised down a dark alley. 

You had only just realized it was a little late to be going to a restaurant, so where was he taking you? He only smirked at you, eyes glittering in the dim vehicle. 

“You’ll see,” was all he would say. 

You should have been concerned, but the truth was you were down bad. You were about to be evicted, had hardly any friends, and no boyfriend. Your last situationship with a werewolf had been a humiliating disaster. You needed this. He pulled into a parking lot, flashing a black card, and a gate lifted, allowing you inside. 

“Here we are,” he said when he parked, circling the car to help you out. 

When he’d set you on the ground, he frowned for a moment, scrubbing his chin. 

“Let’s’ fix this,” he said, grabbing the tight skirt you were wearing and hiking it up your hips so it was more of a mini skirt. Then he yanked on the neck of your sweater, pushing it down over your shoulders.  

“What? Where are we going?” you asked, getting a little more concerned. 

He only looked at you lazily, reaching a hand down to smudge the makeup at the corner of your eyes more. 

“A private club. Freaky girls like you love this shit,” he assured you, though he was becoming less and less assuring. 

What did he mean by “freaky girls”? You were just a normal girl. You liked reading books and cooking when you had the chance. There was nothing “freaky” about you at all. 

Grabbing your shoulders with his big hands, he shoved you forward through the dark lot. Around you, large, monster-sized, luxury vehicles were parked in neat rows. When you reached an odd metal door, he knocked with his knuckles. A hatch slid open, and bright green eyes peered out. 

“What do you want?” 

They narrowed on Tyre. 

“You’re not welcome here.” 

You gulped, cheeks reddening, looking between the pair of eyes and Tyre. 

“Tell Roth I brought him a new girl,” he said, “Told him I’d pay my debt.” 

The eyes flicked down to you for a moment, and the door squeaked open. 

“Tyre, what is going-?” 

You didn’t get a chance to speak as the large, man with pale skin and green eyes snatched your wrist up and dragged you away from him. 

“Tyre! Tyre!” you half shouted, confused as he jerked you down a dark hall, but looking back, the gargoyle only smiled and waved at you. 

“Stop screaming. You’re disturbing the ambiance,” the man holding you in his firm fist, hissed. 

When he opened his mouth, you could see sharp fangs framing straight white teeth. The rest of your words caught in your throat as he dragged you through the club. 

On a large platform in the center, human women dressed in skimpy outfits danced on stage to oddly alluring music. Where the bright stage lights didn’t shine, you could see monsters of all kinds with human women clinging to them engaged in a frightening variety of sexual activity. 

Three gargoyles were sharing one woman, splayed on a table. A centaur had a woman strapped to him with some sort of harness, and your eyes popped when you saw the way he used her. Your heart started to race as you put two and two together. 

You’d heard about these clubs. Places where well-paying monsters could play around with human women to fulfill their fetish fantasies. Yes, you liked monsters, but you would have never stepped into a place like this, not for all the money in the world! You experienced enough creepy fetishists as a waitress. It seemed the only time anyone offered you any real money was to take you home for a night of their own entertainment. 

Betrayal cut you to the core, remembering Tyre’s words. He’d brought you here to repay a debt! He never had any plan of dating you at all! You were nothing more than a trinket to be traded! 

Panic startled you to your senses, and you started to fight the vampire holding you. 

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” you screamed, jerking so hard on your wrist that you thought you might break it. 

He narrowed his eyes at you. 

“Jesus, that bastard. He tricked you to come here, didn’t he?” he hissed, frowning. 

He paused, thinking for a second, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. 

“Still, I’d better take you to Roth and see what he wants to do with you. Can’t have you running off to the cops and blowing up our whole operation.” 

Clubs like these weren’t exactly legal. Along with the girls, they usually sold drugs and were the sort of place where you could hire a shady person to do below-board jobs.

To silence your screams, and to the amusement of a few of the monsters standing nearby with drinks, he slipped the tie from around his neck and tied it tightly around your head, before he stripped off his belt and used it to secure your hands. Then he flopped you over his broad shoulder, carrying you out of the larger room up a set of stairs. You bit on the gag, desperately trying to saw away at it with your teeth, but it was no use. 

You couldn’t see, bouncing on his shoulder, but you heard a door open, and then you saw it shut. 

“Tyre brought you a girl, boss,” he said. 

Suddenly, he flopped you on the floor, forgetting you were a fragile human. You squealed as you hit the carpet hard, pain radiating up your side. Looking up, you froze in fear. The room was dim, the edges hardly visible, the only light a small lamp on a large wooden desk. Peering past the light, you met the gaze of two glowing, red orbs on the face of a dark body you could hardly make out. All you could tell was that it looked large. 

“Why’s she tied up?” 

The voice was almost a hiss, like silk sheets rubbing together. 

“Tyre tricked her into coming here.” 

The orbs disappeared for a moment, then appeared again along with a long sigh. 

“That idiot.” 

“What do you want me to do with her? Dump her? Put her on the floor? She’s pretty enough. She’ll make us some money.” 

Your heart pounded, as your future was being discussed without you. Dump her? 

“Leave,” the voice barked, sounding irritated. 

You whimpered as you heard the heavy footsteps of the vampire leaving and the door slamming behind him. There was a rustling, and the big body behind the desk grew much larger. It wasn’t a shape you recognized, two large protrusions arching over either side of its head and then two more feathery-looking ones on top. Heavy steps echoed in the quiet room as it rounded the furniture and loomed over you. 

A clawed hand emerged from the darkness, clutching your chin, slowly turning it from side to side as his red eyes examined you. 

“Hmm. A little flame,” he purred. 

You tried to scream again, but all that came out was a muffled whimper. 

The protrusions jumped as the creature chuckled. The monster kneeled down next to you, and only then, you could make out his features, just barely. His neck was thick and fuzzy, as was his body, the angular slabs of muscles softened by a coating of black down. Up close, you could see the two side protrusions were actually silver wings, and the ones on top, were elegant antennae. They twitched as he looked you over. His facial features were invisible behind more black fuzz.

“I’ve been wanting a pet,” he said more to himself than you. 

The red orbs narrowed to slits. 

“Do you know what we do at this club?” he asked. 

You’d gotten a pretty good idea when the vampire gave you the impromptu walk-through. So you nodded. 

His lips cracked, and jagged white teeth glinted at you. 

“Good.” 

Clawed fingers slipped through your hair, scraping your scalp. 

“You’ll be well fed and kept, but you are my pet. Mine.” 

You let out another muffled squeal, shaking your head as tears tumbled down your cheeks. A thumb slid through the wetness before traveling to his red tongue. 

“Mmm,” he said, smirking. “Even your tears are sweet.” 

By that point, you were hyperventilating into your gag, the world getting spinny as you panicked. You’d started your night daydreaming about gargoyle babies, and now you were being adopted as some kind of fuck pet for a monster boss. Your breaths grew increasingly shallow until the darkness writhing at the edges of your vision merged into a large black spot, and the world went silent. 

—

You jerked awake by the sound of screaming. The stone floor beneath your cheek was cold, so you sat up abruptly, only to awkwardly flop over onto your side. You were still gagged, but now you were bound by your ankles, as well as your wrists. The room you were in was dark except for a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. It put out just enough light to see the large figure of the mothman who’d taken you as his pet and an orc you didn’t recognize. You shrank back against the wall behind you, immediately afraid of what would come next, but their attention wasn’t on you. 

Another scream pierced the air, making you wince. It sounded almost like…Tyre. 

“Please! Please! She came willingly, I swear!” he said, his tone frantic, all the aloof coolness you’d crushed on erased. 

“Did you tell her what we do here before you brought her?” the orc barked.

“She was dying to get her cunt pumped with monster cock. All those girls love that shit,” he spat. “She’s just a whore like the rest of them.” 

“Tyre?” you murmured, but it only came out as a quiet grunt behind the gag. 

Roth nodded at the Orc and you heard chain rattle, then a crunch as he whipped the heavy metal into Tyre’s face. For a moment, you almost felt redeemed. Like Roth might care about your honor, but his next words evaporated that thought. 

“You know I don't like liars, Tyre,” he hissed, his voice still terrifyingly quiet and emotionless. “You brought me a problem. Now I've got to tie up a bunch of loose ends.” 

You were shocked Tyre could still speak, though his words garbled. 

“She's a slut! She wants it! Just ask her! She was ready to open her legs for me for nothing!” 

Tears poured down your cheeks, hearing the gargoyle you'd been shyly admiring for a year now finally revealing what he really thought of you. He was just like your last monster “boyfriend” who’d dumped you when he realized you were more than just a doll to play with. 

One night after hooking up, his phone started going nuts while he was sleeping. Unable to help yourself, you'd glanced at his texts, humiliated to find he'd been detailing his conquest to his packmates. You were just a joke. 

A “monster-cock hungry slut,” in his words. You stupidly let him sleep peacefully through the night, only asking him about it in the morning. You remembered his sharp green eyes full of humor and his disgusting sneer when you'd confronted him. 

“What'd you think this was? You really think a weak little human like you is good for anything but a quick fuck? Don’t fool yourself. You wanted my knot like a dirty little bitch in heat and I gave it to you. End of story.” 

You broke into big, ugly, wet sobs as your whole world collapsed around you. Your body shuddered against the gritty cold floor, tears forming dark spots on the surface. 

Across the room Roth’s antenna twitched. He gave the orc a look before crossing the room to crouch down next to you. He dug a thick hand into your hair, lifting your head. Your tears blurred his glowing eyes to wobbly blobs. 

“You're crying for him? Is he telling the truth? Are we wrong to punish him?” 

You sniffed, whimpering and shook your head. He dropped your hair abruptly, the gesture suddenly becoming something close to comfort. He patted your head a little stiffly as if he wasn't sure what to do with you. 

You watched him blink, looking away for a moment before he scooped you up, curling his wings around the two of you. He carried you back across the room, turning your face into his soft chest before he spoke. 

“I want his teeth when you're done with him,” he hissed at the Orc. 

Tyre begged behind you, his voice brassy.

“She's lying! That bitch is lying!” 

Roth didn't even flinch, striding confidently out of the room. As he carried you down a dark hall you heard screams following you until they finally faded. 

Roth walked slowly up a long staircase until he reached an elevator. It occurred to you, every room you’d been in was dim, this elevator included, just light enough for someone with average eyesight not to trip over themselves. 

Your stomach dropped as the elevator ascended, finally letting out an echoing DING when it reached the desired floor. 

He stepped forward and you peeked out from behind his wing. 

You were in a beautiful, but dark penthouse. Through the wall to wall windows you could see the stars of the night sky twinkling through. The furnishings were expensive, all black and chrome. 

“Welcome home,” the mothman said, his voice ever soft. 

He set you down on a black couch and you flinched as he crouched in front of you. His long nails picked at the knots binding your wrists and ankles until they were free. 

The moment your limbs were your own again, you slid to the opposite side of the couch, frantically untangling the gag. 

“Let me go!” were the first words that bubbled out of your lips. 

Roth’s blood eyes narrowed at you. It was unnerving you couldn't really read his expression, his facial features obscured by dark fur. 

“Go where?” he asked, calmly, his head tipped to the side. “I had my associates look into you. (Y/N), broke waitress, evicted…where will you go?” 

Your cheeks burned that he knew so much about you. 

“I don't know. Not here. Not a pet.” 

“You'll live better here as a pet than on the street as a stray.” 

You blinked and he was a few feet closer to you, stretching his long fingers out to drag a knuckle down your cheek. 

“No matter. I'm not letting you go.” 

You snorted. 

“Until you get bored with me and toss me out again.” 

His eyes became narrow slits. 

“Did someone throw you out, (Y/N)?” 

Your eyes burned into his, heavy with rage. This was just the cherry on your monster loving cake wasn't it? At least, he was honest and called you what you were to him. A toy. A pet. An object to break and throw away. 

“It doesn't matter. You're all the same.” 

You heard a hiss and then his claws pricked your cheeks, pinching your face. Bright eyes filled your vision. 

“Are we?” He asked. 

Your confidence faltered and you swallowed a lump in your throat. 

“You own a human fetish club. Explain to me how I'm wrong. You see us as weak objects to be passed around.”  

He bared his sharp teeth at you. 

“You will not be passed around. You. Are. Mine.” 

You drew your legs underneath your chin, glaring at him, but winced as a sharp pain shot through you. 

“Ouch!” 

His eyes widened and his fingers left your cheeks, clawing at the tight skirt you still wore. You tried to wiggle away, but his wing boxed you in so he could glide a thumb over your bare skin. It seemed impossible he could see anything in such a dark room, but he growled at the painful spot on your hip where you'd landed when the vampire dropped you. 

“Don't!” you hissed, jerking your skirt down. 

You watched his eyes open and shut, before he stood. 

“Damian!” he said so softly, you weren't sure who he was talking to.  

You jumped as an elegant Naga appeared, wiping his hands with a towel. 

“You called, sir?” He asked his yellow eyes drifting to you only for a moment before they returned to Roth. 

“Bring Vince. Make her some food.”  

The Naga nodded sharply and disappeared. 

He sat next to you on the couch, stretching his wings slowly and resting his forearms on the tops of his legs. Seeing him closely, now, you could see he was tall with broad shoulders, not including his massive wingspan. 

“The girls I employ want to be here,” he said, turning his face to you. “They get paid well and they enjoy their work.” 

“Is that your pitch?” you sneered. 

He flashed his teeth, chuckling. 

“No, you won't be working the floor, but you should know the facts,” he said. “Tyre broke a pact bringing you here. I don't kidnap humans.” 

“Except me.” 

“You're a unique situation.” 

“I won't tell anyone if you let me go,” you promised. 

He was hard to read, but you got the impression he was examining you. 

“I'm not letting you go. I want you.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” You blurted, your heart starting to race again. 

Roth didn't have to answer as the elevator dinged and the vampire from before stepped out. 

“You hurt her. Apologize.” 

Vince’s eyes found you and his eyebrows rose. Giving the mothman a contrite glance, he crossed the room, bending down to one knee in front of you and dipping his head. 

“Apologies, miss, I was too rough with you. It won't happen again.”  

“Good. Get back to work,” Roth said, tone blunt. 

“Have a pleasant evening, miss.” 

Vince stood and winked at you with a little smirk, before he boarded the elevator again and disappeared. 

“Come here, you need to eat,” Roth said, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You wanted to say no, but you hadn't eaten, expecting a quiet dinner with Tyre so you slowly got to your feet and crept after him. 

In the dining room Damian had set the table with a little flickering candle and red roses. Roth politely pulled out your seat for you, encouraging you to sit down. Though you were hungry, you glared at the food in front of you as he took his own seat. 

“Something wrong?” he asked placing a napkin in his lap. 

“How do I know you haven’t drugged this?” 

“Why would I?” 

You blinked at him, opening and closing your mouth as you thought of what accusations to spew. 

“I don’t know! So you can have your way with me or whatever!” 

Though you couldn’t see his lips, a triangle of teeth appeared as if he were smirking. 

“I don’t need to drug your food to do that. Personally, I would rather my lover be conscious when I have her.” 

You crossed your arms. 

“How many lovers have you had?” 

He snorted, picking up his knife and carefully cutting his meat into little cubes. 

“That’s a rather personal question little flame,” he said, before sticking a bit of meat in his mouth and chewing. “What would you say if I asked you the same thing?” 

Your cheeks burned, realizing it was a very rude question. His low, scratchy voice drove you insane. Every word he spoke was soft, deliberate, and calm. None of your fussing seemed to move him, much. Unsure what else to say, you turned your attention to your food. The first bite was apprehensive, but after you’d swallowed that, your hunger took over and you quickly consumed the rest. 

“Damian is a good cook,” you commented. 

“I can tell he’s happy to have someone new to cook for,” he said, scooting a vegetable out of the way with his fork. “I usually have the same thing every night but this is new.” 

Your cheeks burned that he’d made such an effort, but with nothing left on your plate, you weren’t sure what to do next. 

“Come with me,” he said rising. 

You narrowed your eyes on the vegetables he’d left behind, only eating the meat, but followed him out of the room. 

The penthouse was large and airy, the atmosphere perfumed with rows of night blooming flowers arranged in planters outside of the open glass doors. 

“You keep the doors open?” you asked. 

“Though I enjoy my luxuries, my people rested in trees for thousands of years. I like to feel the breeze,” he explained. “Don’t be concerned. You are very safe here. I have security posted everywhere.” 

Your eyes jumped to your forehead hearing that. 

“Are you often under attack?” 

“My business is a dangerous one, but I’ve been at it for many years. You are safe. This is our room.” 

He opened a heavy door and led you into a sumptuous bedroom. A four poster bed sat at the center with silver chiffon curtains fluttering in the breeze flowing in through the open balcony doors. Moonflowers and datura swayed on an arbor framing the entrance, the moon hanging in the center. It’s blue light cast a silver glow over the plush white chairs and vanity. 

“Our room?” you gulped. “I have to sleep with you?” 

He chuckled. 

“I don’t sleep on a bed, usually,” he said. “My kind sleep upright on a perch. The bed is for your comfort.” 

You shuddered, a dark thought passing through your head. 

“H-how…how did you know you would need that?” 

In the darkness, you followed his red eyes. 

“Damian brought it up while you were resting.” 

You wrinkled your nose. Collapsed from panic on a hard stone floor while he tortured Tyre was hardly resting. He suddenly turned to you, grabbing you by your waist and placing you gently on the bed. 

“W-what are you doing?” you mewled as his claws curled around the edge of your skirt, scooting it further up your thigh. 

He pinned you with a glance, before turning his attention to the bedside table and extracting a little pot. Opening it, he scooped some gel from inside and carefully smoothed it over the darkened bit of skin where a bruise was forming. It tingled, easing the slight ache. 

His eyes lingered on the patch of skin, before his claws split the fabric. 

“Stop! Stop it!” you screeched, trying to push him away with your smaller hands. 

It was only then you really understood how strong he really was. He didn’t budge, but captured your wrists in a hand while the other shredded your sweater. 

“I’ll buy you better clothes,” he assured you when you were sitting underneath him in only your underwear. 

You regretted wearing your skimpiest pair, as you’d planned on seducing Tyre with them. Now you felt naked and vulnerable, the red light of Roth’s eyes outlining your curves. 

He swallowed, heavily, making a small grunt in the back of his throat before he released you and stood. 

“Sleep.” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “The sun is rising.” 

Peering past him, you could see the sky getting ever so slightly lighter. He pressed a button and heavy blackout blinds lowered automatically. The sliding door slid shut, making the room pitch black except for Roth’s eyes still shining in the dark. 

You let out a yip as his wings fluttered, stirring the air in the room and he delicately perched on the rail at the end of the bed. 

“Are you going to watch me sleep all day?” you barked, crossing your arms.

“Yes.” 

You sputtered your displeasure, but weren’t sure what to say. Hurriedly scooting under the coverlet, without meaning to you let out a satisfied hiss as you sank into the bed. Having slept on a droopy air mattress for many years, this bed felt like you were nestled in clouds. As much as you would have liked to stay awake, glaring at Roth until he went away, your eyes slid shut and you drifted off. 

–

“Miss, miss,” you heard a voice in your ear. 

You pried your eyes open, taking a moment to remember where you were. Sitting up suddenly, you were met with Damian’s yellow gaze. 

“Time to wake up,” he said, “I have breakfast for you in the dining room.” 

You blinked, realizing you could see him fairly well, and glanced at the windows to see the blackout blinds had been lifted and the sun was well on it’s way below the horizon. 

“But it’s evening,” you muttered. 

He smirked, slithering around you to open a door and then another. 

“We operate on the boss’s clock here. Mothmen like the dark, they don’t see to well in the sunlight. Here, this is the bathroom and the closet is here. I spent the afternoon purchasing you some new clothes, but if you’d like something else, just tell me.” 

“Oh, um…okay.” 

Damian gave you a slight bow and slid out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Taking a breath, you climbed out of the coverlet, first examining the balcony. Standing just in the doorway, since you were still dressed in lingerie, you could see the whole city spread out before you, streetlights flicking on one by one as the sun set. 

On the deck, along with the flowers, was a swinging chair and a small fish pond. You watched the white finned fish swimming in lazy circles  below a few lotus flowers before you went back inside. 

Poking your head in the bathroom, you found it was quite luxurious and to your surprise when you flicked the switch a real light turned on, not the dimmed bulbs everywhere else. Damian, you guessed, had stocked it with a fresh electric toothbrush and all the essentials. Oddly, there were either the exact products you had in your bathroom or the not value brand versions. Instead of the face cream you used, there was a high end cream you’d always dreamed of buying. The same with the makeup, hair supplies, and soaps. Satisfied you had what you needed, you crept into the closet. 

It was one of those fancy closets, you’d seen in magazines with clothes arranged by color and an island in the center full of shelves holding jewelry, scarves, shoes, and-

A sharp scream burst from your lips. 

Damian appeared in the doorway, out of breath as if he’d been slithering at top speed. 

“What’s wrong?” he gasped. 

You pointed a shaking finger at what was a multi compartment jewelrybox, but instead of jewels inside there were carefully arranged, polished, teeth. Hundreds of teeth. 

“What the fuck is that?” you squealed, jumping behind Damian’s body as if he could shield you from them. 

He let out a sharp breath, looking relieved. 

“Heavens, I thought something was wrong,” he sighed. 

Your eyes darted between him and the box of teeth. 

“There IS something wrong! What the fuck?” 

“That’s the boss’s collection,” he said. 

“D-do those teeth come from people?” you whispered. “Are they real?” 

Damian nodded as if that was the most perfectly normal thing in the world. 

“He likes to collect the teeth of his enemies. It’s some mothman cultural thing. It’s kind of neat if you take a good look at them. There are specimens from several species.” 

“He keeps them in his closet?” 

“Where else would he keep them?”

You felt light headed and slumped against the vanity sitting just by the closet door. Were Tyre’s teeth already part of the collection?

“It’s part of his culture, (Y/N),” he said. “Children in your culture put their teeth under their pillow for their parent’s to collect. Think of it that way.”

You shook your head, rubbing your eyes. 

“Please, please stop. I don’t want to hear any more.” 

“Is anything else the matter? Do you like your clothes?” he asked pleasantly. 

“I-I didn’t get a chance to look.” 

Damian nodded and slipped into the closet, returning with a handful of items. 

“Why not wear this outfit,” he said. “I saw it on a Pinterest board and I think it will suit your figure.” 

“Er…thanks,” you said, taking the pile as he slipped out of the room so you could dress. 

You took a long shower, trying to clear your mind of the teeth cache you’d stumbled across. When it was finally time to put on clothes, you had to admit, the outfit Damian had chosen was quite stylish, though you looked a bit like a mafia wife with a diamond tennis necklace around your neck and matching bracelets on your wrist. 

You crept down the hall to the dining room to find Roth waiting on you, surrounded by paperwork. You yelped when to his side you saw another monster you recognized handcuffed and gagged on his knees next to him. His nose was bloody and one eye was swollen. 

“What the- Elijah…what?”

Roth’s eyes rose to you, lingering for a moment before he gestured towards your breakfast. 

“Eat, your food is getting cold,” he murmured, turning his attention back to whatever he was working on as if the monster by his calf wasn’t eyeing you for help. 

You hardly noticed if the fluffy pancakes Damian had provided were good or not, because you were trying to sort out what the monster “boyfriend” who’d jilted you a year ago was doing handcuffed in the dining room. It was hard to know where to look and words escaped you as your mind spun with messy thoughts. 

Halfway through your meal, Roth gathered his stack of papers and tapped them on the desk to straighten them before he spoke. 

“Now that that’s all done,” he said. “Time to other business.” 

He stood, dragging Elijah by his collar along the table to you, leaning on it casually as if everything about this wasn’t very, very illegal. 

“What would you like me to do with this one?” he asked, a clawed hand slipping through your freshly washed hair. 

You stared up at him for a moment, a bite of pancake still half chewed in your mouth before you swallowed it hard. Your mind’s eye immediately went to the tooth collection in the closet. 

“Um…I don’t know? What do you mean ‘do with him?’” 

Elijah whimpered loudly, begging for mercy. 

Roth’s eyes narrowed and he kicked him sharply to get him to sit still. 

“Well, I can give him to my boys and have his teeth extracted or you can keep him around the club polishing the girl’s shoes if it makes you feel any better. They make a game of bullying miscreants. I’ll only take his fangs and claws if you’d like to show him mercy. But he’s not getting away without a punishment.” 

He grabbed the werewolf, by the neck, his red eyes reflecting in Elijah’s green. 

“Monsters like you make me sick. I ought to take your balls.”

He pried his lips apart, his thumb running over a fang. Though Roth’s voice was low, it was thick with a terrifying cruelty. 

“All that power, all the gifts you’ve been given and you use them to trick the ones smaller than you. You could have had a willing human woman on her knees in front of you playing whatever games you like, but you get off on torturing the sweet ones.” 

Elijah’s eyes were wide, full of terror. They flicked to you, begging for forgiveness. 

“I don’t want you to kill him,” you said, your voice thin. 

Roth looked up at you and tipped his head to the side. 

“Pity.” 

His eyes flicked down to his captive. 

“I suppose you have a new job, hm?” 

He narrowed his eyes again, head dipping down so he was close to Elijah’s snout. 

“(Y/N) is very kind. I am not. If you get into trouble, I’ll take what’s left of your teeth and dump the rest of you in a ditch. Understand?” 

Vince appeared from the shadows making you jump and dragged Elijah out. 

“Have fun with the girls!” he called after him. 

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, glaring at Roth. “Yes, he broke my heart, but his fangs? His claws? Threatening to kill him?” 

Roth slipped a knuckle under your chin, his eyes arcing in what must have been a smile. 

“My job is not easy and my world is not kind. Strength and cruelty are sometimes required to take care of the ones who can’t help themselves. That’s the way things are.” 

You huffed. 

“You’re horrible.” 

Fangs flashed in the dimming purple light streaming in through the window behind you. 

“I’ll happily be horrible so you can always stay sweet. My methods may be unappetizing, but it’s worth is to see the truth reflected in your eyes. You deserve to feel justice.” 

He leaned towards you, searching your gaze. 

“And even if you won’t admit it, I can see that you do.”

Your eyebrows jumped and your ears burned. 

“H-how did you even know about him?” 

“I went through your text messages.” 

“You have my phone? Give it to me!” 

He shook his head. 

“You haven’t properly settled in yet. I’ll give you a new one when you’ve come to accept your place here.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ll soon get used to it. Come on.” 

He beckoned you to get up, leading you towards the elevator. 

“I have a use for you,” he said. 

You flinched, narrowing your eyes at him as your heart tightened in your chest. 

“What use?” 

“The girls always have things they need. Some new brand of makeup comes out or melting spray, whatever that means. I have no idea, but I’m sure you do. Can you handle a budget?” 

You nodded, more curious now that your “use” wasn’t anything alarming. 

“All you have to do is receive their requests and figure out what we can afford to buy every month, what’s most important and all that. Then hand over your report and I’ll have one of the guys deal with the order. Simple enough?” 

“Sure,” you agreed. 

He patted you on the head and you peered up at him, trying to read his expression as the two of you landed on the first floor. The club was empty this early in the evening, except you could hear the titter of women through one of the doors that led to the back. A cyclops was restocking the bar, slicing limes and he nodded to you politely when you met his gaze. 

Without writhing bodies, you could see that it was a very pretty place. Tufted benches in Navy blue velvet formed curved shapes housing glossy hardwood tables. The walls appeared to be some kind of fabric with an elaborate swag curtain arrangement softening the corners. The bar was a slick snake-like shape running along one wall, the liquor bottles lined up to the ceiling lit up by gold light. 

A woman with bright pink hair came rushing through a side hallway, looking in her purse for something, almost slamming right into you. 

“Oh sorry!” she squeaked, looking up. 

Her eyes widened at you, then looked to Roth. 

“New girlfriend, boss?” she asked, a sly smile growing on her face. 

Glancing up at him, you couldn’t tell behind his black fuzz, but you almost thought he might be blushing. 

“I’m Candy,” she beamed, shaking your hand. 

Roth waved at you. 

“(Y/N) will be taking your supply requests from now on,” he explained and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You’re putting your girlfriend to work?” she pouted, slipping an arm around yours and pulling you close. “Shame on you! You ought to spoil this rare blessing! You’ve been waiting long enough, haven’t you? You’re going to chase her away if you work her to the bone!” 

“Candy!” he growled, obviously a little annoyed, but she just waved him away. 

“Mr. Roth acts tough, but he’s got a gooey center,” she said, her bright eyes filled with mischief. “You’d better take him for all he’s worth! He’s been wanting a girlfriend for as long as anyone can remember, but never could find the right one.”

She winked at you. 

“The girls and I like variety but Mr. Roth is so sentimental he can’t stand the idea of sharing. He’s always wanted one little flower to spoil. It’s so cute. You’re his first girlfriend, you know. He’s never brought another woman here. We would know if he did.” 

“Oh!” you said, glancing back up to him. 

You were sure he was blushing now, though you couldn’t see it. 

“Jesus,” Roth grumbled, hiding his face with a clawed hand. “Aren’t you running late, Candy?” 

She grinned. 

“I can’t wait to tell the girls about this!” she chirped before she smooched you on the cheek and ran off. 

Roth sighed, looking at you for a moment, before a thumb rose to your cheek and he rubbed away Candy’s lipstick. 

“Don’t listen to her,” he grunted, turning quickly and leading you to his office. “The girls pretty much run this place and they get silly ideas in their heads. Meddlers, all of them.” 

“I am I really your first girlfriend?” you asked his back as he walked into his office. “I’m not really your girlfriend, though. You said I was your pet.” 

He plopped down at his desk, waving you over. 

“It doesn’t matter what I call you,” he griped, grabbing you by your hips and setting you on his desk. “You’re mine.” 

Your head tipped to the side. 

“Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before? You’re rich and powerful. Don’t women fall all over you?” 

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a tight breath. 

“My kind mate once, for life,” he explained. “It’s very…serious. Most women don’t like that sort of…intensity hanging over their heads from the start.” 

Your eyes widened, watching the stiff personality he’d been so carefully trying to cultivate melt in front of you. 

“So you haven’t had any other lovers?” you asked. 

He fiddled with the hem of your skirt, refusing to answer. 

“Is that why you’re so hard on sleazy monsters?” 

At that his eyes lifted to meet yours, and his thumb absently slipped over your thigh.

“Being so crass and careless is a sacrilege among my people. Breaking a soul who might be someone’s sacred mate is considered a crime punishable by death.” 

You looked down at your fingers, suddenly feeling an ache in your chest. It should have been a relief, not a pain. He would get bored and let you go someday. Now you knew that for certain. 

“Am I just a placeholder until your real mate comes along?” you whispered, the words slipping past your lips, though you tried so hard to keep them in.  

He chuckled, lowering his head to fill your vision with his bright eyes. 

“I just told you. We mate to one person only. I wouldn’t have brought you to my bedroom if I intended to have someone else.” 

“Why didn’t you just say that? Why be so distant? You scared me. If you’d wanted to mate me, holding me against my will is not exactly how to start a relationship.” 

At that his eyes avoided yours. 

“Like I said…women tend to run when they find out we mate for life. Humans aren’t like us. Your kind have lots of different partners and you break partnerships when they no longer suit you. If I don't force you to stay with me, you might leave."  

You had no idea what possessed you, but you placed a hand on his cheek and pulled his face towards you, forcing him to meet your gaze. Your fingertips sank into the soft fuzz and you liked the way it tickled your skin. 

“Not all of us,” you whispered. “Some of us just want one person we can be with forever.” 

“Is that what you want?” he asked. 

The words left your lips on a silvery note. 

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He pulled you into his lap, curling his wings around the two of you. 

“I can give you that, if you let me.” 

A light giggle filled the little space for just the two of you. 

“I suppose I don’t have much of a choice,” you tittered. “You don’t plan on letting me leave.”

“No,” he murmured. “But if you stayed because you wanted to it would mean a lot to me. It’s okay if you don’t feel it now. I’ll spend our lifetimes trying to convince you.” 

Your head tipped against his soft chest, feeling a strange giddiness a lady shouldn’t feel towards her kidnapper, especially one who had a large collection of the teeth of the people he’d murdered in his closet. 

You were fairly certain monsters had driven you to madness. None of your dramatically swaying feelings made any sense… but your “enemies” had been defeated, you’d had the best sleep you’d had in a long time in a big comfy bed, and you were wearing half a million dollars in diamonds. Objectively, your quality of life had wildly improved from the day before when you were sitting on a dirty curb clutching fifteen dollars. 

For the first time, you felt his soft lips against your forehead and your head tipped up, following them. When you pressed yours against his, you felt a shudder roll through his chest, making your skin tingle. His clawed hands slipped into your hair, holding your head in place while he explored. 

You felt his breath fanning your face, panting into your kiss and underneath your fingertips his heart raced, causing yours to skip as well. An arm reached behind you and you heard sundry items clatter on the floor as he laid you out on his desk. 

His tongue explored your mouth, tasting like cinnamon, as his fingers clutched your cheek. Fear and anticipation muddled your thoughts. Part of you was still unsure, but the other part knew it was too late for doubts. Your body was ready to surrender, panties damp and thighs sticky. 

You gasped underneath him, his wings forming a silvery cave tinted with the glow from his red eyes. You ran your fingers through the soft feathers and felt him shudder with appreciation. Notching his body between your legs, he pulled only an inch away, looking at you. 

“I will keep you no matter what, but this I will not take without permission,” he murmured. “Just know, if you accept me. I won’t tolerate competition. I’ll murder anyone who dares to touch you and take their teeth.” 

Your cheeks burned, blinking at him through a heady veil of pleasure, his scent carrying notes of the moonflowers decorating his home. This was the key moment. You could refuse him and go back to being his reluctant captive…or you could become his. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your heart answering the question before your still unsure mind. “I…ah…I accept you.” 

His lips covered yours again as he let out a needy grunt, this kiss more desperate and claiming. You felt the prick of his sharp teeth as yours slid against his, the thrill of danger sending lightening bolts up your spine. You could feel the strength in his fingers as they moved over you and the weight of his body as he pressed you into the desk. 

His claws curled around the neck of your blouse and he jerked ito down, exposing the tender breasts perched in your bra. You dragged in a heavy breath tasting oddly like cinnamon, the small space under his wings suddenly feeling thick with the scent. 

Your body grew hot and sensitive, each brush off his soft fuzz making your skin tingle wildly. You suddenly felt light headed and needy, your mouth watering at the taste of his tongue. 

“W-what’s happening?” you gasped when he pulled back to press kisses into your neck. “I feel hot…” 

His hands cupped your breast as you felt his lips agonizingly brush your sensitive skin as he spoke. 

“My pheromones are binding you to me,” he hummed and your heart skipped a beat. 

“What?” you hummed, pushing your breasts into his big hands for more pressure. 

“My pheromones are designed to make mating more pleasurable…to make me irresistible to you.” 

You gasped, but your mind was getting ever hazier as the scent wound around you. Your hips bucked into his stomach, begging for what you wanted. 

“Not yet,” he purred, pulling a tender nipple into his mouth. Colors exploded behind your eyelids, feeling more pleasure flood your system than you’d ever experienced before. 

You’d had enough lovers and a few good orgasms, but this blew that all out of the water like a nuclear bomb and you hadn’t even cum yet. Your back arched and you screamed as his long, agile tongue curled around your nipple. 

The slight prick of his claws bit your skin as his fingers played with the other one, alternating between teasing plucks and firm rolls. The small panties you wore were soaked through and your thighs ground against his hips for more friction. Every inch of skin felt as sensitive as your clit, the fuzz all over his body feeling maddeningly good against it. Your fingertips dug into the thick collar of fur around his neck, wanting to just rub him all over you. 

He let our pleased hums as grunts as your fingers couldn’t decide where they wanted to be, one moment clutching his neck, then his head, then scratching at this chest. The room filled with your desperate mewls, begging him in slurred words for his cock. 

“That’s right,” he murmured on a smug chuckle. “You’re all mine, little flame. Only I can give you what you need.” 

His kisses trailed down your stomach, his soft, delicate antennae caressing your skin as he moved lower. Claws shoved your skirt off your hips, exposing your panties to him and his long tongue slid up and down your slit. You heard the sound of tearing fabric and then his breath on your sensitive lips. His tongue dipped inside of you and you suddenly understood the actual length of it, easily filling your weeping pussy.  

“Roth!” you gasped, fingers looking for something to clutch and finding a few odd feathers to wrap in your grip. 

You heard him hum as he licked you up, making your eyes cross as the vibration drew a blooming orgasm from your core. Whimpering, with tears streaming down your cheeks you felt the agile appendage lapping up your juices, while his thumb found your clit. 

He circled it slowly, making your thighs tense so tightly you thought you might pop. Pleasure zapped you like a lightening bolt, the electricity lighting up every nerve until your whole body felt like it was cumming all at once. Your head dropped to the side, drool leaking over your cheek as your eyes rolled back in your head. 

You weren’t sure you could take much more. Making love had never been like this. Your mind couldn’t process what his pheromones were doing to you. 

Finally, Roth couldn’t hold back anymore, standing so he loomed over you, only his red eyes visible in the darkness. His fingers slipped past your open lips, holding you you in place as you felt his thick shaft investigate your pussy. It felt a little strange, your skin so sensitive it could make out every detail. Though velvety skin still covered it’s girth, the head was more elongated than a humans, ending at a slightly sharper angle with a pronounced ridge bisecting it. Smooth bumps formed a line running vertically along the shaft and something…or some things grasped your thighs like little fingers, holding them open. Your confusion as what was holding your legs apart melted away when he snapped his hips and his cock entered you.

A ragged roar filled your ears as he bottomed out inside of your channel. You could tell by the way the fingers in your mouth flexed, he was doing his best to hold back, not to hurt you. He was still for a moment, as he gathered his resolve, but you had other ideas, sucking on his fingers lewdly, your wet tongue tracing his claws. 

He bent down on top of you, fingers fleeing your hot mouth and wrapping around your neck. 

“Naughty girl,” he gasped as you bucked your hips, the little nubs lining his shaft making you whimper. 

You could hardly see him, but you knew he could see you and you were getting annoyed with him trying to be gentle. Pulling your tits out of your bra, you kneaded them shamelessly, pressing the flesh against the arm holding your throat and arching your back so he couldn’t avoid the dirty show. 

You couldn’t hold back your victorious smirk as he let out a hungry growl and his hips started to batter your soft flesh. His eyes disappeared into the darkness as instinct overtook him, rutting you wildly. Strong fingers tightened on your throat, only ratcheting up the spice swirling through every limb like a savage tornado. 

Drowning in pure bliss, hot tears poured down your cheeks, your body jerking underneath his as he pounded into you. Nonsense poured from your lips, rational thought swept away in the storm. When the sensation reached it’s peak you felt like your body might shatter into a million pieces and you welcomed the oblivion that overtook you. Body shuddering violently as you fell over the edge. 

Your wet, needy cunt, clamping down on Roth’s cock so suddenly made his body respond in the way it was designed. His shaft suddenly inflated to twice it’s original girth, stretching you decadently before he cursed and you felt ropes of searing cum splash against your sucking walls. 

You could hear heavy panting and it took you a moment to realize it was your own breath. Roth let out a long, groaning sigh, his body slumping on top of yours, only stopped by a strong arm bracing the desk. 

His bright red eyes returned, looking somehow more entrancing than before. Everything about him seemed…more. His cinnamon, flower laced scent stuck to you and his soft fur felt luxurious. Even the sound of his ragged breaths tickled your ears in a sumptuous way. 

“You’re…different,” you muttered, brain having trouble putting words together. 

He let go of your throat, a thumb brushing your bottom lip as his hand clutched your cheek. 

“My pheramones have soaked into your body,” he purred. “You’re mine now. I’ve marked you.” 

“Oh,” you hummed, eyes slipping shut, as you felt the aftershocks of your love making roll over you. 

Whatever little claspers were holding your legs retreated and as his cock slipped out of you, cum and slick splashed on the wood floor. 

He scooped you into his arms, pulling you into his lap as he peppered soft kisses on your forehead. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, fingers, absently stroking your hair. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed. “Will it always be like that…now that you’ve marked me?” 

“Yes,” he said, twirling a bit of hair around his finger. “Now that we’re bonded…I can’t control my pheremones. They…have a bit of a mind of their own and their purpose now is to reinforce the bond.” 

A knock at the door sobered you a bit as you tugged your shirt back up to cover your boobs. 

“Who is it?” he called, still so quiet you weren’t sure how anyone heard him. 

“Vince,” said the vampire on the other side of the door.

“Is it an emergency?” 

“No.” 

“Go away.” 

“Got it, boss.” 

He tucked the bit of hair he was twirling behind your ear and smiled. 

“Do you want a snack?” 

Your eyes met his with all of the earnestness in the world. 

“Yes. I would love that!” 

He pulled out his phone and texted someone before setting you back on his desk and leaning back in his chair, looking deeply satisfied and proud of himself. You flopped over on your stomach, kicking your heels in the air and resting your chin on your arm. 

“Do we have to work now?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. 

He looked at you for a moment before answering. 

“No…What do you want to do?” 

“I kind of want to get to know you a little better…Since I’m bonded to you or whatever.” 

“Okay,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head. “What do you want to know first?” 

You blinked at him. 

“Why do you have hundreds of teeth in your closet?” 

[bmpmp3]

i NEEED to be more annoying about being mixed race in public i keep forgetting how dire it is. sometimes i point out stuff in like visual culture classes about like a magazine cover with a biracial model or something and it blows peoples MINDS because the whole class forgot mixed people were real

[flowerygrdn]

chasin' you | z. maclaren

pairing: zach maclaren x reader

warnings: fluff, fluff, and... wait what was it....oh, MORE FLUFF!!!

summary: zach seems to have taken an interest in y/n. she definitely does not believe he actually likes her. no matter how often she says "it's never gonna happen" he can't seem to give up. maybe he actually does mean what he says...

a/n: um...hi. i'm back from the dead...anyways let's get on with the story. luv ya!!!!

---

For the love of God, I just couldn't get rid of him! Why me? Out of every single girl in this university, he has to go for me?! This has to be a joke. This has to be a dare...or or a bet, yeah that's what this is. A bet. Probably by his soccer buddies.

There is just no way that Zach Maclaren keeps asking me out. This is the third time this week he's weaseled his way next to me during a lecture. His arm was around the back of my uncomfortable wooden chair and his knee kept bumping mine every so often. Fuck my life, people were also dead staring at us. The universe must hate my guts.

"So, maybe after this, I can take you to that coffee shop a few blocks away." He whispered in my ear. His nose kept brushing the side of my face and chills kept spreading throughout my body. God damn it, why is he doing this to me?

"Unlike you, I'm actually trying to learn. So get your arm off me and leave me alone!" I whisper shouted the last part at him. I also whacked his arm off of my shoulder. However, instead of getting offended, he took it as a challenge. The arm that was once wrapped around my chair moved to my lap. He leaned forward in the chair, acting like he was paying attention just so he could put his hand on the farthest part of my leg. He started rubbing circles with his thumb and I'd be lying if I said it didn't give me butterflies.

I try to the best of my abilities to pry his hand off but he would not let go.

"You know some people would consider this harassment," I whispered to him again.

"And yet, your muscles relaxed when I put my hand there." I could hear the smirk in his voice, he didn't even have to turn his head. My mind blanked for the last half of the lecture, it wasn't until Zach snapped me out of my trance that I realized it was time to leave.

"Hey, baby, time to go." He took my hand as if he were trying to help me up, but I yanked it out of his grasp.

"I can get up myself, thank you. And don't call me baby. I am not your baby!" I shove my finger in his face and start towards the door.

"No...but you could be," Unfortunately for me, he has longer legs, therefore he caught up with me really fast. His head met my shoulder and his hand went to my waist.

"God, do you ever take a vacation from being an annoying jackass?" I roll my eyes and shrug my shoulder to get him off.

"Nah, it's too fun. Hey, but maybe, you can take me out. I would be a lot less annoying if you'd shut me up. Preferably with a kiss." He spun me around, hands landing on my waist, and smirked as he leaned in just enough for me to feel his breath fan across my face. I raise my hands to his neck, which causes his smile to widen. I smile and act like I'm going to kiss him.

At the last second, I smack the side of his head and begin to walk away.

"Ow...so what, no goodbye kiss?" Once again I hear the smirk in his voice as I walk to my car.

---

Once again, I was just minding my business eating and drinking my coffee, when all of a sudden the chair beside me was pulled out and a familiar figure was seated next to me.

"Ugh, not today Maclaren. I need a break." I lay my book down and begin to rub my temples.

"Aww, why so stressed, baby? Need me to rub your shoulders? Or better yet how about an infamous "feel better kiss" He leans in and fully expects me to kiss him, however, I pick up my doughnut and shove it against his puckered lips.

"I'll pass, thank you." He grabs the doughnut and takes a bite out of it.

"You know, I guess I'll settle for your half-eaten doughnut." He says as he begins to devour the treat.

"You're crazy, you know that, right?" I say in utter shock that he won't give up.

"Crazy about you, baby." He smiles wiping his mouth.

"Damn and cheesy." I pick up my coffee and take a large sip of it before picking my book back up. I hear a metal chair drag against the ground and the next thing I know, Zach is breathing down my neck. He lays his head on my shoulder and picks my legs up to lay them across his lap. And fuck me, I don't stop him. "Why the hell didn't you stop him?" you may be asking, and to that I say...I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!!!!

"You're so pretty and you smell good. You're smart and caring. You love your friends and family unconditionally. You read Jane Austin over and over again. You're taking Criminal Justice because you believe the justice system is fucked up and you want to change that. You're probably the most perfect person I have ever met." Zach says each and every word into my neck as he rubs his thumb up and down my thigh. All the words in my book began to blur. It's funny because, at the time, I was reading "Emma" by Jane Austin.

He knew everything about me. He listed the reasons why he liked me. To top it off, he's holding me like I'm the most valuable thing in the world. Does Zach Maclaren like me? Like actually? No Bullshit?

"I like you, y/n. No bullshit." It's like he read my mind. I look at him and see the complete adoration in his eyes. He actually means it. He lifts his head and kisses my cheek before softly setting my legs down. He gets up and turns to me one last time.

"I want you to like me how I like you. I want you to see me how I see you. And if you don't, then I can live with that. As long as you tell me the God's honest truth." Then he's gone. The coffee shop doorbell rings and I just sit there. He wasn't joking, he actually meant every word he said.

Zach noticed things no other guy had. He sees me as more than a pretty face. God damn it the justice system is fucked up! Maybe I do like Zach Maclaren...

---

I stand by the locker room doors and wait for him. He told me to tell him the truth, so that's what I'm coming to do. Fuck man, it's too cold and I am too nervous to be standing here right now. Soon, I heard the door open. Zach came out with a few of his teammates. He spotted me and froze for a second.

"Hey, I'll catch up with you guys later." He tells his friends and they run off. He stands in the same spot. The silence is so loud and I can't stand it.

"Hi," I said, full of nerves.

"Hi," The smile on his face was enough to make a girl melt.

"You did great, congrats on the win."

"Yep, thanks." I could tell he was waiting for me to say what I really wanted to say.

"That's all I needed to say...bye!" I went to run off but my wrist was caught by Zach.

"Nah uh uh, you could not pay me enough to believe you bought an eight-dollar ticket, sat through an hour-long game, stood by the locker room door for half an hour, and waited for me to come out just to tell me congrats." He could see straight through my bullshit and it was scary. He pulled me closer and let go of my wrist. His arm then snaked its way around my waist.

"Talk to me, baby." His words were like music to my ears. His voice was delicate and soft. I could just...well...you'll see.

"Um...so IcametotellyouthatIreallylikeyouandIwanttobewithyouandyoumakemereallyhappyandyeahthat'sall." My words were all jumbled and he looked so confused.

"Okay um...a little slower, please." He laughed and I took a deep breath before responding,

"I like you, Zach. And I want to be with yo-" Before I could get the last word out, he smashed his lips against mine. My hands went to his neck and his hand that was holding his soccer bag let go and went to my neck. The kiss was filled with so much adoration and passion. We only pulled apart when we had to breathe.

"I only needed to hear the first sentence." He smiled as he rubbed the side of my face.

"So...is that coffee shop offer still on the table? Baby" His smile widened and he looked up at the star-lit sky.

"Of course it is. Damn, all this chasin' you made me do, baby." With that, he connected our lips again.

---

a/n: hehe again, sorry for falling off the face of the earth. I'll try to be more active!

---

[shimishimii]

everybody’s falling in love but me

⟿ wc; 2k+

⟿ Sakusa Kiyoomi x gn reader ; dramatic fluff, for me this is really a cute fic, hope you like it

⟿ have you ever felt like everyone’s been experiencing love and relationships as if it was a trend and you’re getting left behind? I wrote this fic because of that

He hears another rant from Atsumu. Hinata rushes to guess, and Sakusa doesn’t need to listen further to determine what this is all about.

Love. Again.

How long did Atsumu’s previous partner lasted? Two weeks? 6 days? A night?

He sat at the gym floor and sees Bokuto smiling cheekily despite his girlfriend coming over to scold him for overexerting given his shoulder injury. Hinata is on a call with Kageyama, grinning and jumping, as if practice was not tiring enough.

He passes on Atsumu’s request, heavily declining to stay up until midnight taking care of wobbly legs and liquor drowned cognition. And for a well-built set of athletes, it sure is a heavy work.

Besides, the topic will be the same. Atsumu vents, hogs all the drama, Bokuto and Hinata would comfort him while Meian tries to give a man-to-man advice. And when the night breeze grows heavy and their hazy eyes starts to cloud with brimming tears with a weird mixture of laughter, only tales of love would escape their lips.

Sakusa shakes his head and hurries packing up knowing the blonde setter would drag everyone out for a drink. And no matter what kind of opinion he says, his teammates would point out his own demise. Right, he is not even in a relationship.

All his friends seem to feel warm and giddy talking about the important people in their life. Sure, their partners had flaws, but all those details seem to fit the puzzle. Drawn back by time again and again, as if tethered by invisible threads of affinity, through complains and smiles, they keep coming back.

Like it was meant to be.

Even if it meant his heart would always be at the edge of heaven and hell all the time?

He likes his comfort zone as it is even if it means he is alone. Alone but not lonely, well, most of the time.

Sakusa can’t fathom the idea of how they can be willing to gamble on the table, hoping that their partner would show a card of heart.

Of all computed probabilities, love must be a question of chance.

Dumb luck. Fate. Destiny.

Whatever it is, his walls are tall enough for love to even take a peek.

Sometimes, confusion spreads over him, was he being left out? Is his heart just half a piece and there’s actually a need for someone to complete it?

Actually, he never liked putting much effort in liking someone. Simply, the time and attention to spend, he thinks it is not worth it.

He assumes several points, mostly illogical, but he thinks otherwise.

First, to get used to someone’s warmth and the eternal winter that would follow once it’s gone. Second, he doesn't want to be a memory in someone's past, archived and forgotten as though once upon a time, he was just a side character in a story.

Lastly, but of course you will never hear him admit it.

He feels scared. Once he ends up alone, back to how he always was, he does not know how to cope with such loss.

With that, he prefers not feeling anything, getting attached, or falling in love at all.

There’s the constant fear of being left alone and hurt. For a heart to get used to a rhythm and then long a melody of what your heartbeat used to dance to.

But of course, he knows it is more complicated than that. And it was never easy admitting it. It’s hard to express this feeling. Of hoping to love and be loved, at the same time still enjoying the peace of solitude.

It seems to be an ignorant bliss, when you don’t know love drawn along the lines of commitment. Sure, he can admire someone but not in a way there’ll be a ring on his finger someday and vows will be exchanged.

His feelings were often intellectualized, and the words just never materialize.

There’s another fear that lingers, that admitting his feelings means a promise. That he will never leave them too.

What if his feelings change along the way?

He admires the concept of affection and intimacy but not when it is about someone’s name to be carved in his heart.

It seems fun. No, fun is not the word for it. It’s difficult to describe, but loving and being loved must be something special.

‘Who am I to find joy in such experience?’ He often asks himself.

So, he will simply think about this for a few nights, or days, or during showers, in-between tv shows, just enough to acknowledge this feeling and let it go.

See, there’s a lot of issues he is still working on. And may it be a decade or a century, he wishes to be well prepared before he falls in love.

Because he knows when he falls, it will be like gravity had him on a chokehold.

“You’re meeting again?” Bokuto asks. Suddenly, everyone’s attention is on him.

It’s an early end for their practice today. It barely warmed him up. Although Sakusa protests, he plays anyway. He grumbles but still plays volleyball all too well. Hinata complains how he can hate and love a thing, and still be good at it.

“Right Omi, I wonder why’s that” Atsumu sneaks a remark, with a hand placed on his shoulder, eyebrows wiggling. His teammates are too good at jumping, often at conclusions.

“It’s for that case settlement” Sakusa replies.

“The house ownership?” Everyone pauses to listen as Atsumu speaks. “Wonder how someone did manage to scam you” Atsumu’s right. He thinks of himself as ahead of analyzing people, turns out he’s vulnerable when someone offers something with the label ‘sale’.

“Why not let it go? You’re rich, unless you want to keep going on those ‘case meetings’ huh”

Sakusa simply sighs. The scammer was caught months ago, but there wasn’t any progress on who gets the house. Sakusa Kiyoomi, who finally decided to buy a house, somehow ended up tangled with you.

Both of you paid the full amount for the house, caught off guard by the ‘sale’. Said it was 50% off (it never was). Truly, the scammer knows capitalism by its roots, selling the house to both Sakusa and you, presented as a bargain but gained twice the amount. And unfortunately, the money was gone in thin air. The positive side was, it was named after you and Sakusa but both of you have to decide how to settle the ownership.

The judge suggested two options:

a) one gets the house, the other compensated with money

b) sell the house, both gets compensated with money

However, both of you refuses to give away the house. It’s a perfect deal, both near your workplaces, spacious, newly renovated, completely furnished, and has that perfect aesthetic of the interior you both dreamed of.

Sakusa already told this dilemma to his teammates. He has no choice, it’s been months, and both of you kept meeting but ends up arguing. No wins, no losses. A perfect stagnant problem.

“Let Kiyoomi enjoy his dates—”

“It’s a meeting” Sakusa retorts.

“Right, and the sun’s a star” Atsumu rolls his eyes.

“It’s a star?” Hinata quickly replies, with furrowed brows.

“Well, whatever you call it, seems like you’re enjoying anyways” Atsumu shrugs. Bokuto and Hinata nods.

“They’re annoying at best” Sakusa replies, massaging his forehead thinking what chaos it will be again later.

“If you don’t like each other so much, why bother meet all the time?” Hinata asks.

“Specifically, at least twice a week” Bokuto agrees.

And Sakusa’s left defenseless. His walls came crashing down.

He ignores everything they say after, as he usually does. He finishes packing up and proceeds to check your message. He searches the location where your date will be—discussion, he smiles at his silly mistake.

On the other hand, you are getting uneasy how today will turn out although you are sure an argument will be present. It’s quite a joke you kept meeting someone despite your desire to avoid things that are a waste of time.

Meeting Sakusa is not a waste of time, isn’t it?

You deny the excitement building up waiting on him as he shows up in gym clothes compared to your academia themed outfit. It was like someone on a fitness journey was meeting up with a crumbling postgrad student.

With black sweatpants, an inch higher than his ankle, and his regular fitted black shirt, you spot Kiyoomi. As marvelous and nonchalant as ever.

Kiyoomi looks from outside the cafe’s window and pauses for almost a minute, thinking of something nice to say.

You also prepared a few phrases on your mind, something about the weather. How cloudy skies compliments the hue of his hair and eyes, captivating his features so well.

But the moment you meet, and words come out from your mouths, he was baffled how something about the weather turned into an argument about ecological footprints. Maybe because Kiyoomi kept on using his car despite the training venue being streets away. You point it out and Kiyoomi would never admit his purpose of hoping to drive you home sometime. So, he contradicts your words by the number of items you kept on purchasing and why consumerism keeps on depleting the earth’s resources.

After some lengthy banter, silence precedes.

But Sakusa wonders what remains loud, no one’s talking but something remains loud.

Then he realizes, there’s the beat on his chest.

He begins to get baffled by how many paradoxes can exist all at once.

Like how he can hate your guts but keeps making his days available just to see you.

How can he be so selfish of not wanting to give up the house just so he can hear you ramble about your life, why it was your dream house, how can it benefit your working hours, and how you hate pets are not allowed in your current apartment complex.

He hates this. How his practice tires him out but ends up coming back to meet you. Like it was meant to be.

You could also list your reasons to hate him.

You hate how he becomes silent suddenly. But his nonverbal gestures tell a lot and more than what you need to know. Like how his lips slowly lift when your reasoning was actually right. Or the way he orders for the both of you and never misses any detail, he gets it right without even asking you. Even the way he leans forward slightly just so he can hear you clearly and remind you he is listening whenever you share anything.

You begin to remind yourself, think with your head not that thing in your chest.

Of all computed probabilities, love may not be a question of chance…but a choice.

Dumb luck. Fate. Destiny.

Whatever it was, he might be slowly getting it.

You are not there to complete him. Neither he does. But simply sitting in front of him, with his pretty hair, and cute grunts. And all his snide remarks, the comments how your outfit suits you, remembering what your favorite coat is, his random sarcasm, how he remembers all the stories you told him.

His mandatory habit of collecting the receipt with your doodles, how he informs you ahead of his schedule making sure you are a part of it, and simply being with each other.

It is not just a question what this situation is. It is an enigma.

You hate him.

And damn right, he hates you too.

But you both say goodbye with smiles on your face.

Another meeting is set on a shared online calendar you previously both agreed on.

Also, the house still belongs to both of you.

a/n: I admit I get jealous of the "love experience" and I admit I never tried a relationship. Because like what I wrote, it was not the fear of love, it's the fear of losing someone you love.