#but you’re a bastard in disguise

[gay-dorito-dust]

Part two is right here

You were with Alyssane when the doors burst open and could only watch as a bloodied and bruised Benji was being held up in the arms of two other boys, who were also bruised and bloodied but not nearly to the extent that Benjicot was.

This type of scenario happens far too often at this point for you to feel anything but exasperation at who had pissed Benji off to the point of no return, for Benjicot Blackwood was a short fuse disguised as a awkward, shy but honest to god good man, and everyone in the realm knew that the devil himself runs away in fear when a good man goes to war.

‘What happened this time?’ Alyssane asked, just as unfazed by this predicament as you were as she crossed her arms over her chest, while the two men holding Benji up shared a look between themselves before looking back at yourself and Alyssane.

‘There were some Brackens-‘

‘Here we go.’ You whispered under your breath, finding yourself already foreseeing how this interaction with their rival house might’ve went down; they crossed paths, started provoking each other, swords being drawn and fists being thrown as the accumulated testosterone between the rivalling houses chokes the air.

‘-and they said something to Benji that made him madder then I’ve ever seen him.’ The boy with the pale hair on benji’s left continued recounting the story as the the boy on Benji’s right, a boy with chestnut hair and slight facial hummed in agreement as he shifted Ben’s arm on his shoulder when he felt the young lord slipping from his grip. ‘Yeah and after beating them with an inch of their lives, he wouldn’t tell us what those Bracken bastards said.’

You looked closely at Benji, feeling your heart wretch as you watched his eyes try their best to focus on something before they fell on you, and suddenly he was smiling as though he was trying to reassure that he wasn’t hurt that bad; acting as though he wasn’t currently on the verge of collapse. You hated how much his sweet side affected you to the point your dreaming about it for weeks on end knowing that it was fruitless to ask for more.

You may have gotten use to Benji getting into fights but you will never be use to seeing him hurt, you’d rather he be safe and unharmed but that seems like too much of an ask even for him; despite how many times he’s promised you that he’d be careful only to come back bruised knuckles, bloodied faced and looking as though he fought a bear and won.

‘I’m fine.’ Benji slurred as he tried to stand up and walk a few paces forward, just for his legs to have out beneath him as the floor rushed up to meet him, but you managed to run across the hall to catch him in your arms. ‘Gods you’re heavy.’ You groaned as you wrestled one of his arms over your shoulder as he lent most of his weight against you, trying your hardest not to let the smell of cedar wood get the best of you.

‘I did it for you.’ Ben murmured incoherently.

‘What?’ You asked, feeling as little overexposed by the eyes of his aunt and the two boys who dragged him in here as they dig into you.

‘I did it for you.’ He said again a little louder this time. ‘I did it for you and I’d do it all over again for you to prove just how important you are to me.’ Benjicot adds with a dopey smile as he closes his eyes and the rest of his weight has your knees close to buckling underneath you, however the urge to know what he meant by that and how it correlates to beating the Brackens black and blue gave you the strength to keep him upright as you looked over at Alyssane, who looked at you both with a knowing look in her eye.

‘I’ll go fetch a Maester and I’ll trust that you y/n will get him up to his room.’ She says before leaving the hall and you to ponder whether or not you were being pranked right now, for as you went to look for the two boys behind you for help, only to find that they had seemingly disappeared into thin air.

‘You’ve got a lot of explaining to do when you wake up Blackwood.’ You said to no one in particular as you began the long journey to Benji’s room.

[cinnbar-bun]

Monster (JoFoes x Reader)

Characters: Dio Brando (PB), Kars, DIO (SDC), Yoshikage Kira, Diavolo, Enrico Pucci, and Funny Valentine (sorry I have not finished JJL yet so no [spoiler])

Prompt: "He's a wolf in disguise / But I can't stop staring in those evil eyes."

Summary: Their "love" for you comes in many different, untraditional ways. Some more dangerous than the others.

Rating: Mixture of SFW + NSFW, but please mind the warnings.

Notes: Reader is GN! and no specific body parts are mentioned for them. Spoilers I guess for their plans? Reader is a human in all of them, Reader replaces Shinobu + Hayato's roles, not much NSFW for Pucci's part in all honesty, FV is a widower (no Scarlet involved).

Warnings: Toxic relationships, MAJOR power imbalances for all of them (maybe minus Kira's). Heavy religion mentions for Pucci (although Reader is not specified to be Christian). This isn't soft or lovey-dovey (but I can do one later), so pleaseeeeee do not read if those kinds of topics make you uncomfortable.

Word Count: ~4.5k (kill me I lost my mind writing this)

Read on my AO3 here!

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, fill out the form in my pinned): @adeadcreator @bruabbina @gingernut1314 @over--heaven

Dio Brando (Phantom Blood) 

He most likely was pursuing you long before the mask ever took hold of him. He didn’t do it out of pure love- more likely it was for entertainment and as a chance to hold another thing over Jonathan. 

Dio despises how Jonathan attempts to be friendly with you and often will do what it takes to turn you against the poor guy. 

He doesn’t even know why he is so adamant Jonathan stays away from you, even more so than with anyone else. He feels a possessiveness towards you that cannot be contained or described in words. 

He masks most of his disturbing thoughts and possessiveness for you underneath a facade of charming elegance. He’ll play the part of a picture perfect boyfriend for as long as he needs to. 

But even he has to admit he has trouble holding back all these disgusting feelings for you. You frustrate him in a way few ever have and ever will. 

Despite his haughty attitude over Jonathan and his eagerness to get ahead, Dio is actually grossed out by himself tremendously with you. He recognizes after getting wasted once again that he is just like his bastard of a father, Dario, and it settles in a gross pit in the bottom of his stomach. 

It’s wretched, honestly. While he continuously acts bigger and better than ever to get you to fall further for him, he refuses intimacy or overtly physical gestures. Sharing Dario’s blood with this body makes him sickened at attempting to do anything like that with you. 

Compared to his earlier brazen behavior, when he begins to get possessive and attached to you, he almost retreats and refuses to allow himself the chance at intimacy with you. 

However… once he puts on the mask and rejects his humanity, Dio becomes a whole new wicked beast. 

While he still has sentimental feelings for you, his aggressiveness grows almost tenfold. 

Likes to have you sit on his lap while he strokes your head and monologues about his ideals or shows you horrifying imagery. 

Blood. Lots of blood. 

You’re the only one he attempts to keep alive and refuses to let the others feed off of. If you are to ever be used as sustenance, it is by him and him alone. He gets actively violent against his subordinates if they even think of touching you.

In this stage, he’s more open to intimacy. A bit more, but not at his full peak (we’ll get to that later). 

However, the arousal he has is mostly fueled by his bloodlust and hunger. Feedings of you tend to occur after one of his many minions causes some chaos or he gets word of more destruction and feels a possessive streak. 

He is pretty sensual, taking his time to showcase how much stronger he is, how much better he is now that he has become an undead horror of the night. But that sensuality is still layered with a hint of hunger and obsessiveness towards you that he cannot contain. 

He’s less controlled about his feelings now towards you. His eccentricities make him more likely to just take you randomly at anytime without a care of what is going on around him. And he will verbally tell you them aloud now, enabled by his own inhumanity. 

“I can smell your fear, darling. Your heart is pounding fast… tell me, do you desire something more than this innocent petting, dear?” 

Loves to bite you and leave marks on you. He likes to have his fangs scratch against your skin before he sucks on that spot. His favorite places include your neck but also in more hidden places like your inner thighs. 

Your blood is the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He’s addicted to the taste and savors it more than a fine wine. He has to remind himself to take it easy because as much as he loves your taste, you’re still mortal and he has to keep you alive. 

Kars 

As a Pillar Man, he does not think highly of humans like you. You are a mere mortal, and where you belong is below him. Hardly even worth a glance at all. 

But for some reason, despite your status, he found himself protecting you from an encounter with someone trying to rob you late at night. He doesn’t even know why he jumped in to do so, but the look of reverence and awe in your eyes at his display of strength made him… intrigued. 

He doesn’t hold back. He tells you everything, because, really, what are you going to do about it? You couldn’t escape even if you tried. 

And now, you live your life as his human… pet? Partner? Servant? Thing…? 

He’s very unclear about it. Some days he ignores you, and other days he mulls over his thoughts to you while he strokes your head. 

Kars rarely ever gets aroused. He’s not a primitive beast and he’s very focused on his goals. 

But, intellectually, he is curious about how you behave around him. He kind of likes the attention you give him and he recognizes how you’re affected by him physically. 

One thing he’s super proud of? His voice. He knows how his voice can turn you on and drive you mad. He likes to get close to your and have his breath tickle your skin before he whispers words of praise for you doing so well for him. 

“Oh, little one, you’re shivering. Are you afraid? Or are you excited?” 

His favorite thing is to get you incredibly aroused while barely touching you. 

Enjoys you riding his thigh- you look like a wanton little beast who can barely contain themself from him. 

Kars likes you vocal, so that means you better be moaning, groaning, gasping, sobbing, and thanking him loudly. He doesn’t care who hears. If you try to hold your voice back he gets rougher to have you be louder. 

Most of your intimate encounters will be him getting you off in order to humiliate yourself/hear you praise him. But in the few times he does find himself craving your body, be prepared. 

He is huge. That doesn’t need to be stated but he’s big. Muscular. Strong. Tall. And he’s got full control of nearly every fiber of his body. As the perfect being, he knows he’s well-endowed and uses it to his advantage. 

Some days he’s merciful and likes to take his time and prepare you. He’ll coo to you as if you are a mindless little animal (you probably will be after how well he stimulates you) and praise you for taking him so well.

“How precious. Control your breaths, pet. You can’t be this exhausted when we’ve barely begun yet. Now… relax yourself.” 

Other days, he’s merciless and will use you without abandon. His cruelty and dominating nature comes out full force. 

“Hmph, is this how you treat your new god? Beg better, or I’ll stop. You should be grateful I even deign to touch your mortal body.” 

Although he insists he is not affected by your presence or that you are but a toy for him to entertain himself with, if someone were to threaten to harm or take you back (ie. Joseph/Caesar), he will step in and put an end to that foolish thought. 

“It is unwise of you to think that you will take what is mine away from me.” 

DIO (Stardust Crusaders)

A Dio fully in touch with his desires with little remorse or care. This new body of his makes him more confident and lecherous. 

The many ‘victims’ that take up his bedchambers are usually fodder he disposes of quickly. And the ones that are ‘lucky’ enough to escape are very few. 

You happen to be fortunately (or unfortunately) be his favorite. And being Dio’s favorite means many things. 

You get special privileges almost no one else receives. Only you are allowed to caress and touch him so brazenly and easily, and only you can get somewhat mouthy with him. 

He spoils you with fancier foods and drinks to fill you to your heart’s content. While others can argue over scraps, he gives you the opportunity to sit on his lap and feed him. And if he’s feeling nice, he’ll feed you too. 

You also are practically immune to anything, so long as you keep remaining his favorite. If a minion tries something with you? Dead. Someone from the ‘harem’ insults you? Dead. Hell, a bird made too loud of a noise? Dead. He finds it hilarious to inflict damage due to his whims and somewhat twisted obsession with you. 

“Hoh? Does it please you, knowing your lord is willing to go to such lengths to keep you safe? Now, what will you do to showcase how pleased you are?” 

Most people catch on very quickly to stay away from you, lest they face an untimely death. 

But it does mean he expects you to serve his every whim quickly. He’s so demanding with you, annoyingly so, actually, and he does it to mess with you. You’re his favorite but he will still be a joker with you. 

He feeds on you often, but is in enough control to reign himself from taking all your blood. Sometimes he “jokes” that he just wants to drain you dry, but it’s up in the air. 

Dio is pretty selfish in bed. Often he lays back and expects you to ride him, like a good pet should do for their lord. Go on, earn your keep. 

He enjoys clawing at your skin and caressing the scratches he leaves on you later on. 

Is not ashamed of making a public spectacle of you if he feels like it. Get used to him continuing to pound into you while Hol Horse attempts to give him a report update. 

He takes his frustration and anger out on you physically. When he gets news that the Crusaders have foiled another batch of minions, he might go get his violent (and bloody) fill with a few random mortals, then return to you and sternly tell you to get on your knees. The stone cold expression on his face makes the room drop a few degrees and he will not talk much in these sessions. 

Dio likes putting you in difficult situations for the thrill of it. Your reactions are always interesting, solidifying his interest in you. 

He does admit that he’d probably never put you first above his plans (which he seldom talks about except when you two are relaxing after an intense night) and sardonically chuckles that he may enjoy you now, but it can all change if you stop being ‘fun’ for him. 

But when Hol Horse attempts to grab you to threaten Dio, Dio’s face hardens in a way no one has ever seen before, and Hol Horse immediately aborts the plan. You’ve never seen Dio look that terrifying before. 

He doesn’t speak of that event again, instead telling you to return to the room and stay there. 

Expect him to keep him closer and have a tighter grip around you. 

Yoshikage Kira 

Hiding in plain sight has never been so easy for Kira after having his face switched with the poor sucker at Cinderella salon. 

He could lie a bit longer, play pretend as a dutiful husband as this random man whose appearance he has taken. 

He returns home to see you, the partner of the man he just took over, and he knows he’s in for trouble. He’s going to have to not only fend off suspicion from everyone else in town, but especially within his own home. He no longer has a safe space and it frustrates him. 

He has never been in a formal romantic relationship, but he attempts to act ‘normal’, keeping some distance but still ‘polite’. 

You don’t seem to suspect much- or maybe you’re just so happy to see some changes in your former husband- and always like to chat with Kira. At first he finds it dull and grating, despising how you talk about nothing useful. 

But he can’t be too bland, so he’ll respond back. Usually one word responses and the like just to satiate you enough to get him off his back. 

However, you’ll occasionally discuss a topic he is more interested in and then he’ll give you more of his personal opinion on the subject. Kira didn’t expect to find some comfort with having another person to share these discussions with. 

And while he hated the fact his normal schedule before acting as your husband changed, he slowly starts to grow fond of his new routine with you. Waking up and receiving a goodbye kiss before he goes off to work has become his new morning energizer. Coming home to see the table set with you waiting for him makes the nights a bit more pleasant. 

He’ll never really recognize if he enjoys this for real or if he’s doing this to keep up the act of a ‘good husband’. He’ll just let the days continue to go on like this while he loses the others off his back. 

Although, one thing that really took him off guard was your heavy affection and sexual desires for him. You have nice hands, he’ll give you that, but he was so taken aback by your behavior. Apparently, throughout the whole night when you dressed up extra nice for him and made him his favorite meal and were complimenting him and swooning over him- that supposedly meant you wanted to take him to the room for some bed breaking action. 

He honestly was so shocked that this was what your behavior meant and he had take a moment to recollect himself. Kira declined that first night because he truly has never had sex with another person, less so someone he was pretending to be married to. He was not mentally prepared for that to be thrown at him.

After calming himself down in a few days, he does attempt to be more physically intimate with you. 

Yeah he’s mostly focused on your hands at first. He still doesn’t recognize if he actually loves you yet, but he won’t decline you giving him a handjob or stroking your hands over his toned body. And he’s always ready to be licking your hands. 

After a few more times of these rather awkward and selfish sessions, he does pay it back and begins to explore your body more. He finds himself fascinated with how your chest rises and falls with every shaky breath and moan you let out. He likes the way your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

His compulsive tendencies do appear in the bedroom, and he does let them out, but they honestly come off as roleplay. It’s kinda hot to hear your normally calm husband just huff and lecture you while he bends your body around roughly to ‘set you straight’.  

“Enough of that. Seriously, can you not even put yourself together correctly? If you can’t dress properly, then don’t bother wearing anything at all.” 

He’s way too deep into this marriage life with you, getting extra frustrated if anyone dares to disturb whatever you two have going on. 

Diavolo 

He falls in lust first. He hasn’t learned his lesson from the last time. Diavolo is a heavy believer in the concept of ‘Fate’, but he believes he is the ‘King’ who can overcome it. 

Surely… ‘fate’ wanted you to be his subordinate. 

You do a wonderful job, you never ask any questions that are unnecessary, and you never stray too far from what he’s asked. You always manage to get the job done in your own, unique way. 

You’re his most trusted subordinate (underneath Doppio), and Diavolo can’t help but feel that selfish urge to contain you as a part of him forever. You’re attractive, so cunning, and so loyal to him- something that makes him believe you were meant to be ‘his’. 

He’s run from his past for so long, but that makes him cocky. If you were to somehow lose his interest, he surely would overcome this ‘challenge’ and defy your fate, too. You’ll never know what hit you. Not to mention, he completely believes he’ll be able to keep you in check and under his thumb. He’s learned that much from his time.

So he lets himself be known to you, after all, good servants deserve some ‘rewards’ from their king, do they not? 

He is a cruel man in bed, doing almost everything in his power to exert his control over you and dominate you. 

Bondage, toys, threats, punishments, and even using King Crimson are not too out of line for this sadist. 

He enjoys overstimulating you, loving the way you babble nonsense and tell him it’s ‘too much’. 

The louder and messier it is, the better. Anything to show you who is the one in control and in charge, and where your proper place as his most devoted servant is. 

He insists on a BDSM lifestyle outside of the bedroom too. Diavolo is not short on funds, so he’ll gift you an expensive accessory (probably with built in tracking on it) as a ‘reminder’ of who you belong to. 

But knowing Diavolo, it’s a veiled threat. Fail to comply with his demands, fail to be entertaining to him, or worst of all, fail to keep his trust- you’ll be dealt with swiftly. Choose wisely when he ‘graciously’ lets you roam free. 

He’s pretty giving otherwise. His constant jumping from villa to villa or hotel makes him take you with him and allow you some luxuries in those areas. You will always have a private suite away from the rabble and be able to relax. 

Diavolo finds it sweet that you’ll trace the paisley tattoos/markings on his arm (sorry I like tattoos so uh-). He’ll let you do it for a bit, all while smirking down at you in amusement. 

“Enjoying yourself, tesoro mio?” 

Gets incredibly angry at the thought of someone touching you or finding you. Not purely out of love- but as a desire to keep you to him. If someone figured out your relationship with him, he’d have to swiftly deal with them and possibly you to keep himself hidden. 

He does trust Doppio to escort you and take care of you, allowing him to be perhaps the only other person to see you physically and take you around wherever Diavolo needs you to be taken. 

Surprisingly, Diavolo likes to listen to the opera and will play some records for you both to listen to while you both unwind or he is working on mundane things for Passione. 

Enrico Pucci 

A master manipulator who believes everything he’s doing is for your own good. He meets in the prison- you’re down on your luck, but you’re earnest and seeking redemption. How could he not want to give you the peace you’ve been searching for? 

As the chaplain of Green Dolphin, he does get more access to you than others get, as well as allowing you the chance to take a break from your prison activities to talk or assist him. 

He believes the chance meeting with you, you who was so pitiful in the chapel and begging for anything to comfort you in your hard time, was another mechanization of “gravity”. 

It was simply fate to meet you, and it was fated that he had to be the one to save you. Perhaps this was a second chance at something he needed to do to be redeemed. Perhaps this was him seeing a kindred spirit within you.

Pucci takes it upon himself to offer you counsel or give you a moment of reprise. Once you two get closer, he begins to encourage more discussion and debate from you. 

“Humans are powerless to oppose fate. Wouldn’t you agree on that?” 

But Pucci is obviously not the completely helpful priest he acts as, as his more sinister and rough behaviors come out the more he is ‘pulled’ to you. 

Pucci does continue to use Whitesnake as a mouthpiece, often to voice more ‘warnings’ to you so you do not get scared of Pucci directly. Obviously Whitesnake is just a separate being from Pucci, and you have nothing to worry about, because you obviously were not planning on doing anything to jeopardize Pucci’s goals or ideals, right? 

He uses his authority and standing in Green Dolphin to get his way. Whether it is ridding of annoying prisoners or guards who bother you, or having you isolated as ‘punishment’ for perhaps doing something he didn’t like, Pucci will pull as many strings as he must. 

Only he has your best interests in mind, and only he is the one who can give you salvation and the hope you long for. He is your ‘fate’ so long as you comply. 

He has to admit, he is curious to get your Memory DISC to see all your memories. But he recognizes that would possibly be a step too far (he has some boundaries, he thinks) and attempts to get you to admit your memories on your own. 

Incredibly attentive and will recall anything you’ve told him with 100% accuracy. It can be comforting and nice when you want to vent or talk to him. Do not think you can lie your way around him, though. Whether you’ve intentionally lied to him or not, he will promptly correct you and tell you to be truthful. 

Pucci believes the Heaven Plan will save you and make you more willing to accept your fate. He confesses to you that what he’s doing will make you happier, will make you more free, and will make your tears dry up. 

Although he says that, sometimes, when he looks at you, he does get those same feelings from before he met Dio. Those dreams of running away, running far away and committing blasphemous acts with you, much like those of the novels he’s read. He brushes them aside and counts prime numbers to rid himself of those ideas. He’s so close to his goal. 

“Enough, Pucci. Enough. You’ve committed to this. You’re doing this for the good of humanity. Even if it’s hard, they’ll understand. They’ll come to learn to love their new life and accept their fate with a smile.” 

Funny Valentine 

Funny prioritizes public appearance and his goals over his private life. Despite Scarlet being gone from the picture, he isn’t all that distraught. But being a ‘widower’ does give him some sympathy from the public that he uses to leverage good PR. 

And you are such a helpful assistant to him. You always have everything under control, every plan together, and whatever he may need quickly finished and given to him without him having to utter a word. 

That competence is quite attractive to him, more so than your physical features (which he does enjoy and did catch his eye before). 

He thinks to himself as a joke that he’d just adore having multiple copies of you running around the White House (and in the room) thanks to D4C, but he knows how dangerous it would be to play with your life like that. You’re so useful to him now, so he’ll care for you. 

Funny pulls lots of all-nighters, especially during the Steel Ball Run, and that means, likewise, you are too, as his devout assistant. This does mean he’s more tired, but also more personable than his stern public face. 

Sometimes he rambles about anecdotes from his time in the army or working as a senator. Sometimes he’ll tell a bad joke that makes you laugh from the fact that the strong president would say such a strange thing out of nowhere. But sometimes, he’ll admit how lonely it is, being the most powerful man in America. Especially without anyone beside him. 

He takes advantage of the sob story he has to get you to be more vulnerable with him. And when you comfort him and offer him some help, he is quite happy internally that you did exactly what he hoped you’d do, but outwardly acts humble. 

“How kind of you, dear. You needn’t worry about my nonsense, though. You aren’t on my payroll to be my personal therapist. I already stress you enough, as is.” 

But you insist and who is he to deny you? 

It doesn’t take long after that for your relationship to go beyond professional boundaries. A touch here, a longing gaze there- and Funny has to admit he enjoys the thrill of having a secret affair going on with his assistant right under the nose of the rest of the workers there. 

And, scandalously, Funny is a freak. A really freaky guy. 

Don’t get fooled by his professional nature and good posture that he displays for the newspapers. Funny is perhaps the most experimental and freaky man on the list, willing to try almost anything at least once (and it does give a good excuse to take you to his chambers). 

He indulges in plenty of kinks; bondage, domination (whether you or him), roleplay, exhibitionism- it doesn’t matter. 

But he will try to reign himself in because he is the president, even if he’d love nothing more than to have you on his desk and weeping for him. His biggest kink is roleplay, and in private, he will want to be addressed differently. This must go on at all times behind closed doors. Failure to adhere to his rules or attempting to embarrass him publicly will result in punishment. 

“You little brat! Have I not been clear on what you were to do? Or were you hoping I would take matters into my own hands? Hm, since you seem to enjoy acting so improper, perhaps I shall reteach you manners. Lay down, now. I hope you’re prepared for what’s coming.” 

Funny can look calm during any arguments he has with you, thus making him a tough man to debate. He is authoritative and believes he knows what’s best. While some backtalk is fine for the most part, after a while he puts his foot down and tells you to stop. 

But then you two see each other after you’ve calmed down, and he holds you while apologizing. He’ll insist he loves you very, very much, but he’s just under so much stress and while you may have your heart in the right place, there are some things that just can’t go as you like. 

Possessive when it comes to you, keeping you monitored by guards and by his side almost 24/7. You weren’t planning on betraying the country you love so much, were you, dear?

[s-4pphics]

where we meet. (e.w.)

when ur a monsterfucker n its kinktober lol am i right guys

*silence*

…..

thank u 4 the pointers baby :3 ilysm @elliesbelle

wc;cw: 17.8k, baker!oc, demon!ellie, HEAVY ANGST [mentions underage drinking + alcoholism + drunk driving + car accidents + death], oc’s an eldest daughter… yeah, HORROR? [gore + animal death/mutilation? + vomit + idk scary shit like blood n stuff], SMUT!!!!![HEAVY DUBCON + sexual tension + ellie shape shifts LOL + her tongue is barbed and forked and long like a fruit rollup + blood drinking + fucking outside HAHA + splash of sadism + edging + tentacles WOOO THIS BITCH IS SHAKING THE TABLE!!! + pain kink + spit but venomous + lots of cum/squirting + anal/d!p + err restraint? + oral + crazy size kink + dirty talk + masturbation? + dumbification/mind break + dacryphilia + burning/marking

“Alright, my love! A dozen red velvet cupcakes, four slices of carrot cake, and ten brownies!” 

You handed two large brown bags filled with desserts over to your favorite regular, Roxanna, “I threw in two complementary cannolis, don’t tell Hattie, please!” You whispered. 

The older woman laughed, turning to depart with the sweet treats, “She ain’t getting a word outta me. Thank you, baby. See you soon.” 

“Have an amazing birthday! Try not to get too rowdy on that yacht, now!”

“Girl, I’m grown! If one of my guests show up without a bottle, they ain’t gettin’ on, point blank!” You both giggled. 

She blew you a kiss and scurried off, the small bell above the door ringing at her exit. You sighed and scurried to the back and into the kitchen, untying your apron and hanging it on the coat rack. 

“Now, Miss Hattie— “

“I know you ain’t tryna disrupt my craft right now. You know better!” The elderly woman had her gray hairs pinned back under her hair net, practically squatting near the counter as she perfected the icing job on the three-layered wedding cake, shrouded in gold and sparkly silver. Your heart grew fonder at the slight tremble in her hands as she piped sprouts of buttercream around the cake topper. 

Hattie, despite her stubbornness, was reason your… fresh start went so smoothly. Meeting her was a blessing in disguise; It was raining when you stumbled upon the old bakery she worked at years ago. You’d just moved as far as you could from your hometown, in desperate need of a job. She turned down your desperate pleads time and time again, that is until you showed up to the shop one last time, drenched in rain, with your homemade red velvet cake. 

She’d nearly cracked you with a broom herself when she saw you standing by the service stand, but you pleaded one last time, and left the foil wrapped dish on the register counter without another word. You’d piqued her interest. Just a smidge. 

You’d received a call from a random number — the owner of the shop— days later, offering you a position at the local bakery. 

As a dishwasher. 

Your victory didn’t last long, however. Turns out your boss was a thieving bastard, cutting all the employee's earnings by a third months after you were hired. You were shocked no one shoved a piping bag up his ass. 

Weeks later, you were out of a job. And so was Hattie. 

… Did she reluctantly ask you for tips on how you made your cake that moist as you two waited for the bus, hairnets still on? Absolutely. And you shared them on the ride back to her small home.

She swiftly became your support, your right-hand man, your newfound comfort only after a few months. You silently thank the universe for her everyday; You couldn’t imagine opening your spot without her with you, making sure to double — triple whatever shit pay her previous boss gave her. 

“C’mon, Roxie just picked up. We needa head out now,” Closing was always a hassle whenever Hattie was in the zone. The extra five minutes she often requested easily turned into an hour if not regulated; Bless her heart. 

She sighed and stretched, “Alright,” Reluctance in her tone. “You’re lucky my grandkids are coming to see me tomorrow!” She set her piping bag down and allowed you to stroll the wedding cake into the walk-in fridge. 

Hattie hardly ever asked for time off; You practically have to shove her out your bakery doors every Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, New Years! The only request — demand she’s ever made was no work on Halloween. She gave you explicit instructions when you hired her years ago: don’t call my phone during the day of evil! 

Her request threw you for a whirl at first. You assumed she was joking because what seventy-year-old woman still cares about Halloween and its lore? When she hadn’t laughed with you, however, you apologized and offered her three days off for the end of October. Everyone deserves to be with their family, regardless of time of year.

You wished you had someone to call during the cozy Fall. 

You threw yourself into work the second you got the chance. Opening your bakery a year ago was something you’d been working towards since you made your first batch of cupcakes at ten years old. You and your mother baked until your arms burned from kneading years after that, and the hobby swiftly became your down time. Your shop was small and crowded, but your name was printed on the door. 

You never thought you’d be able to own anything after the last decade of being locked up, after the accident you’d caused. 

That horrid day and its repercussions continues to loom over you like a dark cloud no matter where you go, filling your life with trails of dread that refuse to be washed away. You lost your family, some friends, a potential partner, and it was all because of one mindless decision during your reckless and dark teenage years. 

To put it bluntly, you never recovered. Everyday is a struggle, but you’ve managed to distract yourself with work. Your newfound friends hate that they never see you, but you beg them to accept that you're busy whenever you receive an invitation to dinner. 

Sadly, your accomplishments are not companions, and your heart is forever vacant. Nothing — or no one — will change that. 

No matter how many times you’ve tried to reach out to your loved ones, your calls go unanswered. You came to terms with the fact that they’ll always see you as the force that destroyed their unity — the disappointment, ages ago, but your heart still longs for their affection. 

You wake up and hope for their forgiveness everyday. 

“You comin’?”

Miss Hattie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as you silently walked her to the door, her work bag in hand and ready to go. 

“No, ma’am. Still gotta check the inventory.” 

She sucked her teeth, “I coulda still been decorating— “

“Enough of that! Get on home!” You waved her off with a smile. 

“Uh huh,” She rolled her eyes and left with a nod, “See you next week!” 

You waved goodbye, shutting the door fully and flipping the open sign to close. 

You stretched your arms above your head, your achy shoulders and neck popping with stiffness. All you wanted was a fucking massage. 

You made your way back to the kitchen, clipboard in hand, marking off products that desperately needed refilling. What kind of bakery runs out of sugar? Sugar!

The bus ride home was nauseating; You need your own car desperately. 

You politely greeted your neighbors as they left the elevator before heading to your floor. The late afternoon sun was blooming through the hallway windows of your building. You unlocked your door, the waft of cool air from the open window in your living room brushing your skin. 

You tossed your bag off your shoulders, and it thudded to the floor, the overworked bones in your arms cracking when you stretched them up at the ceiling. 

The small ball of fur rubbing against your leg rejuvenated you in seconds. 

Your cat meowed happily when you bent down to plant kisses on her head. She followed you into the kitchen as you heated the kettle on the stove, hopping onto the counter to watch you work. 

“You know better. Get down,” your eyes squinted. 

She only tilted her head at you before sitting on the granite completely. You were too tired to move her. 

Whistles erupted from the small hole in the pot minutes later. You filled your mug to the brim with the soothing herbal tea your friends gave you before heading into your bedroom. 

You closed your blinds and undressed completely, plopping onto your blankets, taking sips from your mug as exhaustion and warmth flooded your body. 

The last thing you remember was your cat walking all over your back. 

THUD, THUD THUD THUDTHUD—

Your body shook awake at the pounding coming from the entrance of your home. Anxiety surged in your gut when the loud knocks against wood came to a sudden halt, only to start up again, even more frantic and aggressive. 

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUD—

You kicked your blankets off and sat up, your sweaty form clinging to the sheets as you searched around your room. Everything was where it was supposed to be, but your door was wide open. You never leave your door open. Did you shut your door when you came home from… 

Where were you before this? 

You called for your cat once, twice, three times, but she never came. Your apartment was always quiet, but this silence… It was weighted, a heavy press on your chest. 

You don’t remember how you got into your living room, but your toes were digging into the soft fluff of your rugs, attempting to sketch into the floor. Even the slightest movement felt like a fight against sludge. Like trekking through the rain in drenched clothes. The knocks didn’t cease, and was synced with the pounding in your ears. 

The walls were breathing. Why couldn’t you breathe? You swore you were going to throw up. 

The painted plaster moved in waves, your door plunging in and out of its frame, back and forth like a pendulum, but you couldn’t see behind it; Your toenails scratched harder into the floor. You couldn’t stop staring at the door. Every nerve in your brain was urging you to run, find a place to hide, but your body wouldn’t allow it. You simply stood, trapped in a cloud of distress. 

The banging stopped and you inhaled, air finally filling your lungs. The feel of fabric beneath your toes was no longer there: something softer than hardwood. Something squishy, something sticky and wet with hair. Your nails tore into it, oddly comforted by the sensation. 

All was quiet again, the familiar steadiness of your home calming your racing heart. 

Until a weak, wheezing exhale came from beneath you; You nearly missed it. Your heart rate skyrocketed when you peered at your feet. 

Your cat’s neck and stomach were sliced open, her small organs pouring out of the large slit in her body. Maggots and spiders were crawling all over her, your feet completely drenched in her blood and your nails plunged deep into her decomposing skin. The insects devouring your nearly dead pet rushed up your legs at an alarming rate, tearing into your thighs like desperate rats fiending for a meal. 

You woke up screaming. 

“Girl…”

“I don’t know why that happened! I’ve never had a dream like that before!” All the lights were on in your home, your kitty purring in your lap as you stroked her comfortingly. “I know it’s late but can you come over? I’m honestly… freaked out right now.” 

Your good friend, Celeste, exhaled over the line, “… Yeah,” she resigned. “Gimmie ten minutes. I love you. Just… try to relax.” 

You breathed when she told you to, your head bobbing like she could see you, “Okay. I love you too.” 

You almost didn’t want to hang up, but you’d already bothered your friend enough tonight. It’s been a while since you two hung out together; You hope she’s up for a sleepover! 

Your kitty nuzzled your chin affectionately. You hoped she knew you would never hurt her. 

“I’ve never been so horrified in my life!” You spoke around the sugary spoon in your mouth. “Dreams have never… felt like that for me. I swear, it doesn’t matter how deep my sleep paralysis is! I felt like I was really,” you quickly peered around the room for your kitty, praying she couldn’t hear you. “Stepping on her body! My poor angel.” 

Celeste shoveled more ice cream into her mouth, “Girl, that’s fucking crazy,” she assured, nodding towards your sleeping baby on the table. “Just remember that nothing actually happened. You love her and she loves you.” 

She continued after a heavy sigh. “But you know me. Dreams, nightmares, they’re all from something, and if it felt as real as you say…” Her brow arched at you. What the fuck is she talking about? 

Her eyes rolled in exasperation, “Isn’t your coworker, like… mad superstitious? Queen, but still. The devil’s working, girl.” 

You took a deep breath like she instructed a billion times over since she’s arrived. A smirk grew on her face. 

“Plus… it’s that time of year. ,” she stuck her tongue out and playfully grabbed her tits, “We gettin’ slutty. Gotta show out for Scorpio season. I made my own costume.” 

Your nerves calmed at the reminder of your friends' packed weekend. Since your only true time off was during the spooky season, they always encouraged you to join them in their reckless behavior, especially during your time off. You resigned from partying a long time ago, but did indulge in the lively atmosphere from time to time during the holiday season. 

“You’re right,” you sighed and placed your hands over the resting ones on her chest. 

“Thank you! Take that damn chef hat off!” she scolded. “No more business talk until— “

“Next week, I know,” you mocked, “And I don’t wear chef hats, thanks.” 

“Don’t give a shit about any of that. I’m getting pipe tomorrow night,” Celeste fell back on the sofa, giddily kicking her feet in the air.

A hearty chuckle escaped you. Maybe you’d meet someone too. 

You were finally able to get some rest— thank god for Celeste — and start organizing your costumes for the… large sum of parties they planned to drag you to. 

You still haven’t completely recovered from your nightmare two nights ago. The vivid imagery that your subconscious conjured up still gives you the ick, but for the sake of your friends, you chose not to bring it up again. You silently thanked the universe when you managed to get a full nine hours the night before. 

Your friends managed to pull you into the Halloween spirit and take you to… Spirit. Despite the void stares from your friends at your costume choices, you settled on the Zelda outfit that’d been on sale at Party City for the past two weeks. Celeste couldn’t stop herself from… cutting your costume up and making it as revealing as possible. She opted to cut off the sleeves, sew the pants into a skirt that hugged your body way too tightly, and did your makeup how she wanted. You didn’t stand a chance against her. 

You despised how hot clubs get; You probably looked like you were melting. 

You stayed as far away from the bar as you could, watching your friends down shot after shot as the night progressed. Your surroundings were crowded and stuffy, the bass of the DJ booth rattling from your feet all the way up to your chest. Your moves were sloppy and disoriented, but Celeste was behind you, grabbing your hips and supporting your weight. 

Your thoughts were hazy and incoherent as your arms waved around to the beat. The music blasting in your ears turned into white noise; The environment completely entranced you, your eyes shutting at the weightlessness of your clammy body. 

The hands behind you were suddenly grabbing tighter, yanking you closer, as you continued to dance. 

You pushed back onto them and their arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back, yanking you close, your clammy flesh practically melding with theirs. Their scent engulfed you, rich and deep yet distinct. Your arm wrapped around the back of their neck, pulling them down while their hands explored your hips. 

Their lips were on your neck, your head resting on their shoulder. Something hot was stirring in the pit of your stomach the more they swayed you, the arch in your back deepening; You haven’t felt wanted in so long. 

You tried to spin to face them, but they held you still, pressing their chest into your backside. Your breaths picked up when they bit the most sensitive spot on your neck, your toes curling in your heeled boots, your manicured nails nearly chipping in your stockings. 

Their mouth moved higher and higher, right under your ear, the hand coming up to wrap around your throat to hold you still. Your core squeezed as the grip on your neck tightened… and tightened… your airways were closing, and swiftly, the feeling was no longer pleasant. Your eyes snapped open when they didn’t let up, a shocked gasp escaping your dry mouth. The moment was no longer sensual, but straining and forceful. Almost angry. 

Your lust turned to panic instantly, your eyes bulging as your nails dug into their hands, their taut thighs, their wrist, but they didn’t budge. You thrashed and shook with terror. You gasped for air and tried to push them off but it was all for naught. 

Nobody came to help you. Suddenly all the faceless bodies around you were gone, heaps of black smoke pooling at your feet as you wailed for Celeste. The hands and lips were replaced with razor sharp claws and fangs as cold as ice against the side of your face, murmuring voices and screaming chants roaring in your ears. The former body grew monstrous, tripling in size and darkening. 

The sensation of decaying, bloody skin was at your feet once more, fiery red ants and black widows nipping at your skin as the smoke flooded up your body, swallowing your calves, thighs, waist. 

Weak shouts and begs for release went unheard by the force behind you. A faint whisper of your name made you sob harder; You’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die—

The whisper called your name again. And again. And again, much louder and urgent. Desperate for a response but all you could do was holler for your mother. 

One last shout of your name made you drop to the floor, all the sensations surrounding your body gone. Your crown clanked onto the vibrating hardwood as drunk clubgoers gawked at you in confusion and annoyance, Celeste and your friends staring in concern, reaching to help you up. 

But you couldn’t be touched. Any brush on your skin surged your heart to your throat. You needed to get the fuck out of here. 

Your friends kept yelling about what happened, how they could help, but you couldn’t speak. You swore you were going to vomit. 

You pushed yourself off the hardwood and through the crowd, away from your friends, away from everyone. Your smudged makeup stained your wrists, the shouts of your name going unheard as you shoved passed security and ran into the night. 

You didn’t sleep at all that night. 

You immediately left the club, hauled a taxi, and ran up into your apartment, double — triple checking to make sure all your doors were locked and windows were closed. You tore your costume off your body and threw it into your garbage before hopping into the shower. You desperately wanted to wash your hair, but you refused to close your eyes. The darkness when you blinked was haunting enough. 

To put it lightly, you were fucking horrified. 

Your body trembled under the steaming water, soft sobs escaping while you scrubbed your skin raw. Especially your shoulder. 

Your phone rang off the hook until the sun rose, your kitty refusing to leave your lap. She never failed to comfort you in your times of need, but you barely rubbed her all night. All you could do is cry and think. 

Your friends pounded on your door multiple times, but you refused to move from your bed. Their frantic knocking was very reminiscent of the pounding in your nightmare. You couldn’t shake how real everything felt: the comfort, the desire, the destress, the pure, unfiltered terror at the imagery of you being eaten alive by darkness. If you could even call it that: imagery. 

Imagery is not enough to describe what you experienced. You were attacked in public, and no one bothered to help you. Nobody… saw anything. 

You’re not fucking crazy. 

Your friends were sweet enough to stop by the same afternoon with candles and lavender-scented bath bombs after your public breakdown. Their efforts at lifting your spirits didn’t go unnoticed, but your thoughts kept racing, every time you shut your eyes, even for a few seconds. How the hell were you going to explain what you saw that night? 

Despite your friends’ skepticism, you were eventually able to convince them that you felt severely claustrophobic and the lack of air sent you spiraling. 

… It wasn’t a complete lie, at least. 

You were able to get some minuscule hours of sleep after they left before it was time to prepare for your shift. Dark circles were imprinted under your eyes, your skin was dry, and your uniform was not ironed, but you were up and moving. Small victories. 

Your hand was practically glued to your forehead in extreme fatigue, your eyes burning at the brightness of your computer screen as you checked the time. Your emails always boomed during this time of year as people prepared for the holiday season; A good night's sleep seemed even farther away now. 

You swiftly replied to each request with your availability before grabbing your bag and keys, kissing your kitty goodbye, and running down to the bus stop. 

You greeted every familiar face with a polite smile before entering the already packed vehicle, the beginnings of a rising sun beaming through the scratched windows. You plopped onto the only available seat — farthest away from your neighbors — with a heavy exhale, your head falling against its rest. 

This week is going to be so gruesome for orders; You prayed Ms. Hattie was prepared for it. 

Returning to work was just as draining as you’d assumed. 

Your business line has been ringing off the hook all morning, people asking for dozens of gingerbread cookies and wedding cakes layered to the ceiling. You could make a nest for yourself right on the clean tiles of the kitchen and nap. 

You’ll never know how Ms. Hattie did it: wakes up at five in the morning and moves through decorating like a walk in the park. You can barely lift your arms and it’s only hour three. 

You whipped egg whites and sugar like your life depended on it — it did — with your landline tucked between your shoulder and ear, reciting pick-up addresses and numbers in voicemails. You’re so fucking tired. 

Hattie wasn’t, though. Just quiet. A bit too quiet. 

She hasn’t said much since you’ve arrived. She got to the shop much earlier than expected, politely saying good morning when she caught you standing by the kitchen entrance. She hasn’t acknowledged you since. You tried to get some laughs out of her, but she only half-smiled before silently returning to her work.

You two continued to carefully wrap and deliver dessert-filled boxes like a well fueled machine up until the last minutes before closing. You stretched before grabbing the broom to sweep the entire shop, making your way into the kitchen where Hattie was staring off into nothing. 

“Hey, girl. I can close up, so,” you murmured, wiping the sweat off your brow. 

She seemed to be pulled out of her trance, “Oh, sorry hun,” Her head bobbed. “Are you sure you’re good on your own?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” You paused. “Umm, are you doin’ okay? You seemed… I dunno, quiet, I guess.” 

Hattie nodded, and you took it as an invitation to speak. “Somethin’ you wanna talk about? You didn’t even tell me how your weekend went. How’re the kiddos?” You asked gently, propping your broom against the wall. 

A heavy exhale left her. 

“I… Something was…” she stuttered. 

Another deep inhale. Another lengthy exhale. 

“Something felt different, no?” She whispered. 

Your brows pulled down in confusion. “What d’you mean?” 

“This… this weekend. Wasn’t it different?” 

“Umm…” you pondered. “Not really, no. Why, what’s goin’ on?” 

More silence before she huffed, “… Nothin’. You know how I get this time of year. Sorry, dear.” She turned and snatched her work bag off the counter before departing with a skittish nod, “See ya tomorrow.” 

“W-Wait—“ You tried to stop her, but the kitchen door was already slamming shut, the small ding alarming Hattie’s departure from your shop. 

You allowed your tense shoulders to drop, snagging the broom and heading towards the front of your shop for cleanup. 

That was odd. 

The front door of your apartment shut and you fell back against it in exhaustion. You desperately needed a massage. 

You stretched before pushing yourself off the door and wobbling over to your cat’s area, refilling her bowl and cleaning her litter box. You clicked your tongue to lure her over to eat. 

You called her name out when she didn’t come. You snagged her filled bowl and shook it, alerting your baby to come and eat. She still didn’t come. You huffed and made your way into your room; She probably took over your softest pillow again.

The bowl in your hand clattered to the floor and your screams nearly shattered your windows. Bile rose in your throat and you heaved at the scene in front of you. 

Your beloved pet was dead. Completely mauled, her blood and organs pouring out of the giant slit that went from her throat to her stomach. Sobs wracked through you at the savage attack. The one source of comfort that you looked forward to seeing every morning and night was gone, snatched away from you in the blink of an eye. You've tried to alleviate your anxiety by suggesting that your nightmares are merely that. Dreams. Creations by your subconscious to try and solve issues that occur in your everyday life. 

But nothing so heinous would ever cross your mind. You would never harm the precious angel who brought you healing in your times of need.  

This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone came into your home while you were away. Someone killed your baby. 

“We’re sorry, ma’am,” the county deputy sighed, “But there wasn’t any sign of breaking and entering. You stated that everything is where you left it, correct?” 

“Everything wasn’t where I left it,” Anger rushed through you at the officer’s dismissiveness. “My cat was fucking fine before I went to work. I’d never… put her in an environment where she could be harmed,” Tears flooded your eyes. 

“We understand that this was an attack done in your home. What happened here’s definitely not normal, but we won’t be able to solve everything in one night,” He consoled, “We’re getting a team here to investigate. I would suggest packing an overnight bag and staying with family or a friend until we get this situated.” 

Family. You almost broke down. 

When you didn’t respond, he interjected, “We can also find you a room to stay in for a few nights— “

“No, uh, thanks. I got it.” 

You dug in your pocket for your phone and dialed Celeste. He nodded and spun towards his partner who jabbered into a walkie. 

Your friend’s tone blared through the speakers, “Hiii, baby, what’s up! I haven’t heard from you in a minute.” 

Your bottom lip wobbled, “Sorry I didn’t call. Um… can I ask a favor?” 

“Of course you can. What’s the matter? Are you good?” 

The floodgates that’d been building in your eyes overflowed, pouring down your cheeks and onto your work shirt. You wept. 

“Can you come pick me up?” 

“I just feel like… I feel like I’m going fucking crazy,” you whispered and picked at your fingers, “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but— “

“Nah, it makes perfect sense. You’re fucking psychic. That’s literally the only explanation,” your friend shook her head at you. “You dreamt about something and it happened a couple days after.” 

“None of that shit is real, Celeste.” She sighed in disappointment. 

“It’s not real to you,” she pointed from the other side of the couch. “My grandmomma was a witch—“You huffed and adjusted the blanket draped over your shoulders. 

“But, hey,” she raised her hands in defense. “I can’t make you believe anything. But coming from the most superstitious bitch in town, somebody is trying to tell you something. You’re not freaked out?” 

“Of course I’m freaked out! But I'm not wasting my time thinking about some… fuckin’ ghost— “

“What happened when we were at the club?” 

Your blood went ice cold. You couldn’t stop the pure terror that spread across your face at the mention of that night. You’ve attempted to block… whatever happened out of your memory for the last couple days for your sake, but Celeste read you like a book, and you hated her for it. 

“Exactly. Are you ready to talk about it now?” 

“I… I told you what happened— “

“You lied about what happened. And don’t try to argue,” She leaned closer, eyes comforting. “We tried calling out to you for so long. We thought somebody fucking… laced you, or something, you were so zoned out. We were this close to calling the fucking police.” 

“… What do you mean? I lost y'all in the crowd before I started dancing with somebody— “

Celeste shook her head, “No.” 

Your throat went dry, the blood rushing to your head almost making you faint. 

“We tried to tell you, baby. But we didn’t wanna push you to talk to us about it,” she said gently. “We were with you the entire time.” 

The tightness in your chest wouldn’t subside, shuddering breaths leaving your nose with every denial from Celeste.  

“No one else came up to us,” she whispered, “and no one danced with you.” 

Your head kept shaking in attempts to disprove her claims, in attempts to combat the fear that was attempting to slice you from the inside out, but deep down, you knew she was onto something. 

Celeste’s hold sadly didn’t bring comfort, but she held you close anyway, ensuring that you’re not by yourself, but all you could think about was your mother. The smile she used to give you whenever you succeeded never failed to recharge the dying battery in your back. It’s depressing how little impact her grin has on you in adulthood. 

The dark cloud of your past cascaded over the two of you; If she were here, your best friend would’ve forced you into the passenger side of her father’s pick-up, already halfway across town by now, set to isolate. To escape. 

“Whoever did this is incredibly strategic,” The tall detective stated with a journal in his hand, “They didn’t leave traces of anything: hair, fingerprints, nothing. It’s almost like they never broke in.” 

You haven’t been able to get any sleep or go to work for the last week, completely isolated inside your friend’s home. When you received a phone call from the detective assigned to your case, you caught the first bus you could and flew back to your apartment complex. You don’t remember the ride. 

Your hope plummeted at his declaration, even with his reassurance, “We’re doing everything we can to find this person. Your safety is our number one priority.”

He gave your shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and it brought you comfort. While you weren’t satisfied with their reports, you could see that he was trying. Was this your first time meeting him? 

He seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place it. 

He stared into your eyes with a gentle grin and continued, “If we should even call them that. They’re a cold-blooded, heartless fiend that needs to be taken out.” 

Your brows furrowed at his sudden determination, but your head bobbed in agreement. Your mind was racing but you couldn’t say anything. Someone killed your baby. Did his grip on you tighten? You couldn’t move. 

“The bastards that get away with such vicious crimes need to be put away forever,” his tone was harsh and sharp, and it made your fingers twitch. Your stomach plummeted when his smile stretched higher, his teeth shin

His other hand landed on your other shoulder. You tried to move back, but you couldn’t, “S-Sir— “

“They need to be hung from the ceiling by their throats and slaughtered like fucking pigs! Like the worthless animals they are! —“

His spit landed on your face at his screams. He hollered about how much he hated killers, how they were scum and deserved to be tortured. How you… 

“You thought we forgot about what you did?” He whimpered; prior menacing smile vanished.

The bearded man in front of you was sobbing, his gaze pinning you against the wall. He didn’t blink and his eyes were bloodshot, his mouth turned downward, the corners of his lips nearly touching his chin. Your eyes frantically traveled over his form, his uniform replaced with pajamas and slippers. 

“YOU’RE A KILLER! YOU’RE A KILLER, YOU’RE A KILLER, YOU’RE A KILLER! —“

Cursed murmurs amplified his pained shouts. Your home was melting away, the walls seeping into the floor before you dropped, the terror weakening your limbs. Your nails dug into the grass and dirt below you, panic electrifying your system. 

The man was gone, but you were outside in the middle of the night, decomposing trees surrounding you. You tried to stand but you couldn’t. You were forced to take in the scene that you wished to never see again. The one scene that your subconscious couldn’t eliminate no matter how hard you tried to forget. 

Your parents' car— wrecked car. The vehicle was completely destroyed, the bumper and windscreen ran into a tree. You screamed and shouted but no noise left, the sinister chants resounding in your ears. The wreckage seemed to move, closer, closer, your eyes locking onto the two bodies inside completely mangled in the accident. 

The two bodies were younger you, thrown over the dashboard and your arm twisted to an alarming degree, blood running down your head and mouth, shards of glass piercing through the skin of your bare legs. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from peering at the body beside you. You hollered for help, cried and begged to wake up, all while staring at your best friend — your soulmate, completely maimed from the waist up. It was just as brutal as you remember: her blood splattered all over the airbag, her limbs shattered and broken, large pieces of glass pierced into her skull. You were sick, you were sick. 

Suddenly, the mantras that attempted to swallow you whole stopped. 

Then there was laughter. Your soulmate’s laughter, but it wasn’t how you remembered. It was darker, hollow, empty. Enraged. 

Everything around you went dark. 

Sobs tear through your throat the second your eyes open, the comforting scent of Celeste’s lavender candles intruding your senses. Your body was drenched in sweat, and you could hear your friend calling out to you, her cold hands on your face, but you couldn’t think. You just screamed. Her attempts of trying to sit you up failed, your fingers hanging onto her sheets for dear life. You were paralyzed with fear. 

Somehow, your biggest regret came to pay you a visit. 

Your instincts finally kick in, pushing Celeste off you and bolting towards her bedroom door. She was calling for you; she even reached out to touch you, but you pushed her harder. 

She screamed for you to stop, and you lost it. 

“Get the fuck away from me! STOP — stop fucking touching me!” you rush out into her living room and towards her front door. 

Shocked plastered across your friend’s face. 

Celeste whispered your name; Why did she sound like her?

“I gotta get the fuck outta here, I can’t,” heave, “I can’t fucking do this, I can’t, I can’t — “

Distraught mumbles fled your tongue on your way out, not bothering to look back at your friend. You heard her sniffling before the door slammed shut, guilt swarming your chest, but it wasn’t enough to overcast the terror ripping you open from the inside out. 

After vomiting outside of Celeste’s apartment building, — multiple times — you took your leave. As fast as you could. You couldn't say a word to her; She desperately tried to get information out of you, but your throat felt like it would crack open at the slightest whisper. The fear you’d been trying to invalidate crashed into you all at once. 

You fled without your belongings, only slowing when night goers surrounded you in the city. 

Celeste has been worried sick about you this entire time, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. 

Your steps were jerky and quick, and you kept scratching at your shoulder. You felt her everywhere. All over you, but it wasn’t comforting. Not like it used to be. 

You walked and walked, your mind racing with moments from your past: the last moments with your best friend. Your kryptonite. The scar in your shoulder was covered in fresh, red lines from your nails. 

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You frantically shoved your books into your locker, anticipating the alarm that sounded for lunch. You can’t wait to get the hell out of here. 

The second it goes off, you're booking it for the door. You hoped Ellie kept her word and brought your birthday present. 

You busied yourself in your small cubby whenever security or teachers walked by, politely greeting them with the most innocent smile you could muster. They didn’t bat an eye, wishing you a happy birthday before turning the corner at the end of the hall. 

You gave them all fake greetings until the loud tone blared through the hallway speakers, students instantly rushing out of their classrooms to head to the cafeteria. You grabbed your now empty backpack and merged with the crowd, trekking for the exit. You managed to scurry through the double doors of the school and bolted towards your parents’ old car, ducking behind the driver's side as you waited for your best friend. 

You texted her a few times but she didn’t respond for minutes. You almost gave up and returned inside the building before two hands pinched your sides from behind. A squeal left your mouth when you whipped around. Ellie snorted at you, her arms wrapping around your neck in a tight hug. You reluctantly hugged her back. 

HAAAPPY BIIIRTHDAAAY TOOO YOUUU—

You shushed her shouts with a smile, Shut up! Someone might hear you.

She kissed your cheek before releasing you, No ones fucking here, relax. Open the door, her head jerked towards the vehicle.

You stealthily unlocked it and the two of you jumped in. You shoved the key into the ignition as Ellie cranked the speakers all the way up, your car rattling with bass as you two exited the parking lot and zoomed down the main street. 

Ellie belted Cherry Waves out the window, bright laughs leaving your throats as you drove to… anywhere. Times like this always bring you joy; You love being around her. 

Ditching class might’ve not been the best birthday celebration, but you were having a ball. 

You drove until you reached the end of town. There was a small campground that you and Ellie found on your first couple drives together, and it swiftly became your little get away spot. You’d spend hours talking, drawing, screaming at the top of your lungs until the sun disappeared and your parents demanded you come home. 

You two raced to your designated spot by the lake, Ellie’s filled backpack slamming onto the sand, glass clattering from the inside. You mischievously eyed it, I think someone owes me a present! 

I don’t owe you shit. I’m a good friend, say thank you, She rolled her eyes. You grabbed her hands and clumsily twirled her. 

Thank you, Ellieee! you nearly ripped her bag apart as you inspected the contents. 

Don’t go too crazy. Remember what happened last time? her smile was light, but you could tell she was scolding you. You snickered. 

Um, yeah. We had a ball. Help me open this, you downplayed, passing her the unopened bottle. 

You know exactly what she’s referring to; You might’ve drank a bit too much at your friend’s birthday dinner. And Christmas party… and when you all went to the fair, but it was all in good fun! You’re young and living life; Ellie’s always a bit dramatic when she comments on your drinking. 

Ellie snatched the bottle and opened it, taking a large swig from it before handing it back. You followed in her lead, taking three large gulps of the liquid, the burn flowing down your throat and into your stomach. Ellie pulled her speaker out of her bag and queued your joint playlist. 

The two of you drank and sang and danced until sunset, your vision blurry and legs wobbly. Ellie was sweet enough to help you back to the car, snagging the keys from your pocket before helping you into the passenger side. You tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t understand. She always looked so cute when you mumbled nonsense, wispy brows pulled down with a light smile. You felt so happy whenever she was around. 

She drove you back home and you threw up all over your front yard. Somehow, she snuck past your parent's room without hassle, ushering you into bed. You couldn’t stop laughing; Her bright smile only made you cackle louder before her hand pressed against your mouth. 

—

Ellie’s soft palms moved up and down your arm bare, occasionally squeezing your bicep. You couldn’t stop smiling, goosebumps following the drag of her fingertips.

You’re such a dork, she whispered between snickers. 

You love me, you said much louder, but she hummed. The look in her eye was suddenly far away. You nervously nibbled at your bottom lip, your eyes dropping to her mouth. Did her lips always look this soft?

You admired every aspect of her face in silence, your index finger continuing to trace over the bridge of her nose, the apple of her cheeks, down to her chin. Ellie’s a sight. 

Your hazy mind barely noticed the tint on her cheeks, your bedroom dimly lit by the moonlight cascading in from your window. Her eyes were glued to your mouth. 

She inched closer, her moves subtle. You would’ve missed it if she wasn’t right there. 

You don’t know what came over you, but your mouth pressed against hers. Her lips were stiff against yours, and it made you pull away.

She didn’t seem… happy, not how you felt. Her expression was gloomy, her eyes flashing with… everything and nothing at the same time. You locked up instantly. 

You love me, Ellie… right? 

Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth when you slurred. 

Ellie didn’t answer, and you held yourself up on your elbow, your brain alarming your legs to get up and leave. To abandon. 

Ellie… d-do you love me? 

O-Of course I do—

The tremors in her voice sliced through you like a hot blade. Her confirmation was only meant to appease, your drunk brain told you. Ellie doesn’t love you, not like that. Your own parents’ love is conditional; Why wouldn’t hers be?

—

You were never a rebellious kid. 

Your parents always praised you for being a remarkable role model for your younger siblings: incredible listener, studious, eager to help others. They never failed to highlight, amplify, pressure your good behavior. But their doting smiles disappeared when you failed to meet their expectations. 

The transition from middle to high school was rough for you. Your grades suffered and you were surrounded by other kids you didn’t recognize, and your “star-student” streak vanished in an instant. You’ve never seen your family so disappointed in you. 

You broke your back trying to save your academic status for the next few years. You hardly slept, ate, spent time with your newfound friends, and it was all for your parents. They didn’t acknowledge you until that offer to join the early-college program came in the mail during your sophomore year. When you accepted that you needed to have something to show to get their affection, you spiraled downward. 

You swiftly replaced the emptiness in your heart with a bunch of seniors. They agreed to let you tag along if you could hang, so you did whatever was necessary to gain their companionship: started sneaking out, staying out late, going to parties that you had no business being at. 

Started drinking. 

Just one sip, loosen up! Little did you know that’s all it took to get you hooked. 

The drink was rancid and a gross, murky color. You weren’t enjoying it, so why couldn’t you put the cup down for the rest of the night? You threw back cup after cup until you were unconscious on the front porch of the house. None of your friends bothered to take you inside where it was safe. 

You barely recall being hauled back inside and upstairs, plush pillows under your head as you drifted off. When you woke, you swiftly decided that the pounding in your head and the nausea in your gut was worth it. Last night was the freest you’d ever felt. You almost missed the small sticky note stuck on your arm. Someone gave you their phone number, demanding that you tell them if you made it out alive (i hope so.)

You gained a best friend from that sloppily scratched note. 

Meeting Ellie was a blessing. She was funny, smart and kind. She was so nice to you. None of your old friends treated you like she did. Ellie’s friends were much warmer and welcoming when she introduced you to them for the first time. Every time they had plans, you were invited, no conditions needed. 

Every vacant space in your heart was filled with something brighter. It’s unfortunate that your brain has already mastered its attachment to something more dangerous. 

Ellie… for the billionth fucking time, I don’t have a problem. Can you just let it go? you scoffed from your bed. 

I’ll let it go when you cut it out. You can’t do shit without it anymore, She spat, pointing at the McDonald’s cup filled with Tequila. You grinned nastily and sipped your straw. You were so sick of having this conversation with your friends. With her. 

Yes, I can. I’m fine. See? You sarcastically rubbed all over your body. Another huge gulp. I dunno why y'all are acting like this. I’m not the only one that drinks. 

You’re not fuckin’ fine, first of all! It was fun at first, but you don’t know how to control yourself! You’re scaring everybody off, Her arms flailed as her voice rose. You’re so happy your parents are working. 

You weren’t “scaring everybody off”; You did have some outbursts some time ago, but your friends were still around. They always called you for a fun time, and you were always there to show out. 

Oh my fucking god, you’re so extra, you got up with your cup, grabbing Ellie’s hand and leading her into the bathroom down the hall. You removed the lid and dumped its contents out; You tried to hide the surge of anxiety as you watched it go down the drain. 

See? I can stop whenever I want. 

Then stop, she whispered, sadness in her eyes, No more… okay? 

The emotions flowed through her eyes like water, and it made you uncomfortable. You already wanted a refill, but you nodded to appease her. 

O-Okay, Ellie, I’m sorry, you whispered, and she hugged you so tight. Kissed your clothed shoulder, and it gave you solace, even if it was just temporary. 

But when she left, you were alone, comforted by the temptation of your own thoughts. You broke into your parents’ locked liquor cabinet that same night. 

—

When you showed up to exam day drunk, Ellie began to pull away. 

She didn’t bother to beg and yell when you were entranced by your vice. You simply saw her less, and your heart cracked whenever your calls went unanswered. 

Abandonment was the worst feeling, even more so when it’s a result of something you’ve done. Your anxiety spiked significantly when you strolled around campus and your friends ignored you, and it only made you drink more when you got home. The acidic pacifier you discovered was turning you into someone unrecognizable. You were failing, and you were alone. You’d wished your siblings were older so you could talk to them. 

Everything came crashing when your parents received an alarmed call from your principal. 

You’d been vomiting in the nurse's office for half an hour, and they ended up calling the ambulance. Your stomach was getting pumped hours later. 

When you regained consciousness, the only thing you could hear were your mother’s hysteric sobs in the hall. 

—

Summer came along, and you were out of rehab. Withdrawal fucking sucked; It took you almost three weeks to fall asleep in the center. 

You didn’t expect to see Ellie and your friends sitting on your porch when your parents pulled into the driveway, flowers and your favorite candy in hand. Your best friend cried into your shoulder for an hour straight; You refused to let her go as you sobbed into hers. You’d missed hugging her. 

When everyone was seated on your parents' couch, you offered to share the secret to get melty, gooey chocolate chip cookies every time. They couldn’t stop grinning at you; You were finally back to normal. 

Ellie spent the night at your house and hugged you to her chest until you drifted off. 

You accepted that you were a terrible person when all you could think about was a drink. Just one. 

All the promises you made were broken a few months later, crushed into dust by your own hand.  

—

Everyone you loved hated you. Liquor always forced you to see the truth in people, melted away the fantasy that you created out of self-preservation. It fueled the rage that you desperately tried to keep hidden from your family; You’re so fucking mad, and you can’t remember why. 

Your parents hated you; your siblings hated you, your best friend, the one person you have to confide in, the only thing you had left to love, hated you. Everyone hated you, and it was all your fault. Selfishness was the only way one could be a successor. 

The second Ellie climbed into your parents’ car with that soft look in her eye, fury swallowed you whole. You barely said a word to her, her favorite song cranked to maximum volume. 

Ellie? Your voice was quiet, but you were seething. You don’t remember why. 

Hm? 

D-Do you still care about me? your hands were clenched around the wheel so tightly, you thought it would snap in two. She was suddenly tense in the passenger seat, but she whispered without hesitation. Of course, I do… always. 

But you didn’t believe her. 

Ellie should’ve never agreed to go on a drive with you. 

The way Ellie whipped her head towards you was vicious, her hand slamming onto the volume button of your car to silence the noise. You hated how she knew instantly. 

… Are you fucking drunk right now? 

There it was. All the proof you needed. Confirmation that you were nothing but a disappointment. You hadn’t moved from the stop sign. Self-loathing thrashed from the inside; your teeth are bound to crack like glass with the tightness of your jaw. 

She’d whispered your name with so much disdain. A molten tear eased down your face like magma. This was the same residential area you parallel parked in for your driver’s test. 

Your eyes were glued onto the dimly lit street as Ellie cried and begged for you to stop the car. She admitted to loving you and apologized for everything she said that could’ve hurt your feelings. All you had to do was stop the car and everything would be fine, she said. You pressed the gas so hard; it nearly touched the floor of the vehicle. 

I love you… Please don’t do this… I love you so much… 

Ellie’s last scream was haunting before everything went silent. 

—

The reality around you never rebuilt itself after that night. 

You were able to convince yourself that the accident didn’t happen for a few weeks. Until your best friend’s burial. According to your parents last voicemail, Ellie’s father wanted to strangle you with his bare hands. You took his life away with one decision. No one contacted you after that. Not your parents, not your siblings, not your friends. 

You were charged and placed in juvenile detention until you were of legal age, and sent off to prison for another six years after that. 

Your habit fed you lies about the people you loved most, and it cost the life of your only constant. The one person who tried to get you to change. The purest form of love you had. 

You killed your soulmate, and you never recovered. 

PRESENT

You walked until you reached Hattie’s front porch. Your calves were on fire. 

Your tightly clenched fist pounded on the wood with all the strength you had left. You could see the shadows of someone walking around inside, but she didn’t open the door. She probably wanted nothing to do with you after not showing up to work for weeks, but you were desperate. 

“M-Ms. Hattie, please,” you hollered, “I really need t’talk to you! Please, please— “

The door barely creaked open. You expected her to scream and berate you for disrupting her so late in the night, but she was silent. Didn’t utter a word. She only peered through the small crack in the doorway, her eyes bloodshot. Her voice sounded graveled, like she hadn’t slept in days. 

“What the hell are you doin’ here.” 

“Ms. Hattie, I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know where to go,” You harshly wiped your eyes, “May I please— “

“No, you may not,” her glare sliced through you, sharper than any knife. You bawled. 

“Please, I’m beggin’ you, ma’am— “

“What…” her voice quivered, her gaze breaking away from yours for a split second. 

“What did you do… to that girl?” She whispered like it pained her, and it felt like your chest would concave. 

“… W-What?”

The look on her face was enough for you. 

She knows. She knew. 

“It was you,” tears filled the woman’s eyes, “I had a dream that you… How could you do that… That poor baby…” 

Your head shook in denial. It was an accident, you wanted to scream, I don’t know what came over me! Your eyes squeezed shut and you fell to your knees, thunderous pleads leaving your throat as you begged her to listen. You hunched over and miserably tried to grab at her feet. 

I loved her, I loved her, I loved her! You couldn’t speak. 

“Whatever happens t’you…”

“No, nonono!—“

“I hope God… the universe… whoever the hell,” She spat, “Has mercy on you.” 

You couldn’t stop screaming. Your voice was muffled by the concrete floor. 

“Get the fuck off my porch.” And the door slammed in your face. You heard the locks click, and just like that, your last inkling of hope shunned you. 

You hadn’t realized you’d been screaming for Ellie until you sat up, burning eyes glued to the dark, cloudy sky. 

The sun rose from behind as you climbed your apartment steps. 

The bundle of police cars and black trucks outside the building were an indication of your case being ongoing, but it brought you no comfort. A constant ache was present in your chest every time you breathed. Murmurs erupted from behind as you dragged your body inside, ignoring the deputies who were urging you off the premises. 

Officers and residents stared at you in confusion, shock, bewilderment the second you hopped off the elevator. Exhaustion was pouring out of you, your under eyes almost black and pajamas wrinkly. You can’t recall the last time you showered. 

The elevator dung, and you made your way down the hall, police tape surrounding your front door. You dodged it and crept in, the sight of the investigators almost sending you into a panic. 

Terror built in your spine as they gawked at you; Ellie’s fucking with you. You’re probably asleep right now. 

“Ma’am?” 

You shakily turned towards the investigator assigned to your case. “Are you alright?” 

No. You nodded, “I came to get some things.” 

Some silence passed before you spoke. 

“I need a place to stay,” your cuticles were scabbing. “As far away from here as possible… if that’s even allowed.” Your living room felt like it was tipping. 

Their brows furrowed, scanning over your ragged appearance, “Um… The farthest we can place you is about a half hour away. We still need to monitor you… Especially now.” You bit the dig with a tilted head. 

You nearly leaped into the air at the sudden, distant ring in your ears. 

“Will y’all still cover m’stay?” The tremor in your hands built with the shrilling pierces in your drums. 

“Yes… Are you sure everyt— “

“I’m fine! I’m fi— I’m fine!” The shrieks overwhelmed you, both hands coming up to cover your ears, your head pounding. Foreign hands were attempting to steady your hunched form, but to no avail. Your body gave out completely, pained wails leaving your dry lips. 

I’m fine, I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine—

You tried. You tried your hardest, but you couldn’t convince anyone — yourself that you were okay. Something’s here. When did the air in your home get so cold?

The softest call of your name frosted the blood in your veins. 

You’re hallucinating; You have to be. Don’t look up. Don’t open your eyes. 

The voice called again, elation enriching her tone. Your head shook in disbelief. 

It can’t be. 

“L-Look at me. I’m here! I'm okay!” 

No, no no no, you told yourself. Sobs wracked through your hunched form. 

“Look at me! I love you!” 

Shoe-covered feet inched towards you, slowly. Almost… cautious. 

“Wake up! Wake up, wake up!” Your whispers were harsh. Urgent. Desperate. 

A comforting hand rubbed your shoulder. You flinched and wailed, frantically pinching the skin of your wrists.  

“NO! No, no, fucking get up— “

“Shhh,” Her hand squeezed you, “It’s me.” 

You’re going to fucking puke. Your eyes stayed shut while she cradled you, your head resting on her shoulder. She felt taller, stronger, but she smelled the same. You couldn’t move, but she hugged you so tight. 

Ellie, Ellie, I love you, I’m sorry— 

A kiss on your shoulder. Right over your scar. 

“I love you more.” 

You calmed in her presence as she rocked you on the floor. Your guilt almost made you push her away, but you’re selfish; You need this, for her to hug you. 

It felt like she held you for years, right on your apartment floor. She didn’t let you go. 

But when your eyes opened, eggshell white hospital walls surrounded you. Kept you trapped in the small hell that Ellie’s created. 

You haven’t slept or eaten. You’ve barely showered. 

Ellie was with you. Ellie’s with you. You felt her there; She held you! You’re not fucking crazy. 

Three days have passed since you were carried out of your apartment by EMTs, according to the investigators that are still terrorizing your fucking home. They assumed you were having a seizure by how still you were. You were unresponsive for minutes, they’d said. Celeste was right. You didn’t have the courage to face her and apologize. 

You haven’t left your motel room since you’ve arrived. You hate it in here — it looks like it’s eroding from the outside, the windows are scratched and tinted a murky yellow, the sheets feel like sandpaper, but it’s better than home. Better than being in public amidst your impending psychological breakdown. 

Ellie’s here. She’s watching you and laughing at the wreck you’ve become. 

You’re slipping; You can feel it. The way she hugged you… You could’ve melted into her for eternity when she said she loved you, never to be seen or heard from again, completely under her control. Not that anyone would care about your disappearance. A gutted huff left you. 

Your past finally caught up to you. Tears flooded your eyes for the hundredth time tonight. 

The faint shuffling coming from your bathroom didn’t even shock you. She’s here again. 

Your eyes overflowed, and they shut in resignation; You’re going to die. 

“E-Ellie?” 

Silence. 

Your eyes squeezed tighter. You have nothing left to fight for. 

“Just do it! Just fucking do it!” 

That’s all you’ve ever been: a quitter. More shuffling, then silence. 

“FUCKING KILL ME! KI— KILL ME, ELLIE!” 

You heaved and rose from the edge of your bed. You marched down the seemingly endless hallway, heart cracking in your chest. 

“KILL ME! KILL ME, KILLME! —“

Weighted knocks pounded against your room door, shocking you into silence. She’s here, she’s here; She’s fucking with you. 

A dark chuckle left you. 

“You’re fucking sick,” You spat with a sniffle, “I hate your fucking guts, just like you hated me! You fucking hate me, right?” 

You’re awake. And you’re angry. 

You tramped towards the entrance and knocked back just as hard. 

“FUCK YOU, BITCH! FUCKING — FUCK YOU, ELLIE, YOU FUCKI— “

Heat traveled across your face the second you ripped the door open. 

A woman… a motel employee… with sheets in her hand, visibly stunned. 

You’re going fucking crazy. 

“Uhh… just came to give you new, uh, sheets,” Her voice was high-pitched, clearly uncomfortable. Your eyes flickered with embarrassment, cheeks blazing. 

“S-Sorry…” You allowed the shorter woman entry, and she scurried over to the small nightstand in the corner of your room. 

You picked at your fingers, “Um… sorry if I scared you. It’s been a weird… fuckin’ weird couple of weeks.” 

She didn’t acknowledge you at all. Just silently laid the sheets and pillowcases on the side of your bed. 

“Am I,” You huffed, anxiously rubbing your eyes. “Are you gonna report me or somethin’?” 

Silence. 

Your brows furrowed at the sudden stillness of the woman, her back turned towards you. 

“Hey, you okay?” A cautious step forward. “Look, I’m… I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m fine— “

“Fuck you.” 

You flinched at her venomous tone; voice filled with spite. The fuck?

“… What?” 

“After all this time…” she whispered, the ponytail in the woman’s head shaking in disbelief. 

“You’re still the same… selfish, psychotic fucking bitch I remember you to be.” 

Your knees buckled at the sudden low timbre of her voice. Goosebumps ran up and down your arms at its familiarity. She sounded just like… She’s… It can’t be. It can’t be, it can’t be—

The one window you cracked for air earlier slammed shut, the clicks from your door signaling your confinement. You’re trapped.

Your nails sunk into your palms; She’s here. She’s real and she’s fucking here and going to kill you. 

Her laugh filled the room, low and vengeful, and the one lit lamp on the nightstand flickered off. 

Your breaths were shallow and desperate, sheer panic rushing through your body. You took blind, scurried steps towards the door, feeling around for the knob to take your leave, but it wouldn’t budge. You pounded on the wood from the inside, screaming for anyone to come save you. 

Something cold and slimy slinked around your ankles and roughly yanked you to the floor, your hands scrambling to grab onto anything on the hardwood as they pulled you towards her. You caught glimpses of her glowing, red eyes with every panicked look over your shoulder. 

You were pulled up, up, up by your feet until you were dangling upside down, her glowing orbs piercing through yours. You barely made out her manic smile, fangs bright and as sharp as knives. Something sharp pressed against your windpipe, ready to tear your throat out. 

The room she trapped you in disappeared completely, an empty, dark void surrounding her, you. There’s nothing anywhere. 

You hollered as your stomach flipped; She’s going to kill you right here—

“Ellie, please, please don’t! —“

A sharp slice right through your shoulder. You released a pained scream before your vision grew cloudy, body growing limp as you swayed in the air. Your screams quieted, your drowsy mind filling with images of Ellie smiling affectionately at you. 

Ellie… Ellie, please… 

Trees danced with the wind before everything went dark. 

Water erupted from your mouth, your eyes ripping open, fingers tearing into the dirt beneath you. 

You pushed yourself into a sitting position, more water dripping from your hair and clothes, down your bare legs. Pain shot through your shoulder with every move. You reached to touch it and… ouch. Blood coated your fingertips. 

You gazed around. You knew exactly where you were, but it was off. 

You and Ellie’s hideout. The campground is exactly how you remember, but it was darker, murkier, less inviting and cozy. Familiar, yet foreign. 

“Miss me?” 

You jolted, scurrying away from whatever was behind you. 

“Aww, don’t be scared,” Ellie mocked, fake pout pulling at her lips. “C’mooon, it’s just me! Welcome to my humble abode!” 

What the fuck, what the fuck—

The same appendage from earlier wrapped around your leg, yanking you back, and your heart sank. Your eyes were deceiving you; They had to be. 

Ellie, much taller and stronger than you remember, stood over you, pupils pitch black, a devious smile spread across her face, sharp fangs glimmering in the dark. The two horns that swirled atop her head were dark, the protruding veins red and throbbing like they were alive. You saw the sharp edge of her tail glowing behind her head, speckles of red liquid crusting over on the tip. 

Is… Did she cut you with that? 

Your heart squeezed painfully with familiarity; The small spots that dusted her face and the scars that covered her legs from biking accidents were still there. 

“E-Ellie?” 

She posed, arms extended, “In the flesh. Kinda. There’s no… actual flesh for the dead… Well, we technically could have skin, but it wouldn’t be ours.” 

“I’ve been lookin’ for you. You look good,” she muttered, eyes dark as they traveled over you. You suddenly felt exposed. 

Silence passed between the two of you. How was her tone so casual? 

What the fuck is going on… 

She huffed at your silence, “Didn’t think our ten-year anniversary would be this fucking awkward. Can’t even say hi?” 

Her words were hardly registering. 

“Huh.” Her eyes flashed back, and the organ around your leg untangled, retracting into the grass beneath you.

“You’ve… you’ve been looking for me?” 

“Mhmm,” she hummed, carelessly playing with her razor-sharp nails. “You got outta jail, got a place… bought the bakery you always talked about. Congratulations, jailbird! You beat the system… and were able to outrun the devil for some time!” 

She showcased the ashy, decaying scenery like it was a prize. “Here’s your first glimpse into the other side. Is it to your liking? Should I fluff your pending gravestone? Put some roses over it since everyone you love won’t?” 

Other side? “… Am I dead?” 

“Nope! Almost. You have a purpose before I take you out. Finally, am I right?” Sarcasm sharpened her tongue. 

“… You're insane,” your voice was hoarse, shattered. You swore your esophagus was bloody. 

“Me?!” She snickered sickly, eyes darkening, “Remind me what happened between us again? Who hurt who? Who killed who?!” 

“… I— “

You paused. What the fuck do you say to her? I still love you somehow. Please don’t hate me forever. I’m a worthless fuck up—

“None of the above,” she interrupted… your thoughts? “To be frank, I don’t wanna hear shit from you,” she swayed sassily, circling you like a shark, her tail sashaying around.

“… Why’m I here then?” 

She paused, the muscles in her back flexing. Your gut tumbled. 

Ellie turned to face you, lips curling devilishly. 

“Well… ” she trailed off, voice alluring. “It gets lonely down here. I don’t have anybody to call. Nights are so cold.” 

She suddenly dropped to her knees, sensuality practically leaking out of her as she crawled towards you. Your heart was thumping, stomach in knots. 

“I need you… to do exactly what I tell you…” 

Your breaths shuddered the closer she got.

“I’m so fuckin’ hungry… Just sit there and let me take what I want,” Her mumbles were drunk and lustful. “You fucking owe me. I’m trapped here ‘cause of you.” 

She straddled your lap, eyes glued to yours. They flashed red, and an appendage locked around your throat, knocking the wind from your lungs and pulling you flat onto the dirt. You tried to pull against it, but it tightened on your airways. You choked, pain searing in your shoulder, causing you to let up. Another set of slimy appendages clasped around your wrists, followed swiftly by two locking down your ankles. 

The burn from your bleeding shoulder made your nipples harden under your filthy sweatshirt. She chuckled above you. 

“That was quick,” Her brow arched. “Haven’t gotten any? What, no one wants to drill a felon?” She cooed with a pout. 

You shot her a glare. A squeeze on your throat. A clench from your walls. 

“Oh!” She exclaimed in remembrance. “Sorry about that club fiasco. I was gonna fuck you then, but seeing you enjoying yourself got on my nerves, so.” 

She rambled on about how she made a whole plan to ruin your life the second she found you until you were rotting in the grave, but you weren’t listening. Your eyes moved over her lips, down her neck, over her bare chest, blood burning under your skin. Another squeeze from your cunt. Your face burned with every drop of slick that left you. 

“Think I’m cute? The horns doing it for ya?” she interrupted your gawking. 

You averted your gaze. She snorted before her expression went lubricious, eyes glossing over.  

“You smell so good,” she slurred with fluttery lids. 

No, you don’t. You haven’t showered—

“I meant your pussy, you fucking idiot,” her eyes rolled in annoyance. “You’re killin’ my vibe. Shut up.” 

Your eyes widened in shock; Don’t think, don’t think—

“She smelled like that in the club. Just needed some lovin’, hm?” Her hand reached back to pat your pussy over your pajama shorts and you squealed. You’re leaking. 

“Oh, she’s starving— “

Fear and arousal flurried in your tummy, “What’re you gonna do?” 

You could almost see the wires in her head sparking to life. She leaned over you, her cold body pressed against yours, noses almost touching. 

“I’m gonna rip that pussy open until I feel better…” The aura around her was smokey and blinding. “And then…” Her nose bumped against yours, almost affectionately. “I’m gonna rip that fucking throat out. Might hang your body from a tree. I needa decorate.” 

A choked sob left you, thighs rubbing together as tears plummeted down your temples. Ellie shushed you gently, her forked tongue licking over the droplets before they cascaded down into the grass. 

Every swipe of her tongue sent a zap through your face. The sting sent your jolt through your spine, hips bucking into her. A hot, slick line ran up your cheek, grazing your jawline, cat-like spines digging into your clammy skin. 

… Is… Is she really…?

You couldn’t stop the shudder that ran up your body, your foot jerking outward at the sensation. The tentacle clenched around your ankles, and you gasped. Ellie was grinding on top of you, whimpering into your neck, marking your skin. 

“E-Ellie, El— “

Another swipe, a thick, sticky trail burning its way into your hairline. Your whines are almost inaudible. Pain is burning up your legs when the organ twisted tighter; You’re shocked your ankle didn’t snap in two. 

She moved faster on top of you, pleasantly sighing into your neck. Your face is fucking sizzling. 

“What the… fuck,” The situation is settling in for you: Ellie’s dead… but, not? And she’s humping you like a dog. You shouldn’t want to watch her, observe the love of your life get off on your fucking stomach, but you — your pussy wants it — needs her. 

You missed her so fucking much. 

Soft chuckles erupted from her, icy breath on your neck. She sat up, rubbing her bare cunt on your tummy. 

“You wanna watch?” 

No, no no please—

Your head shook, mind racing with pleads for her to touch you, but she stared back in disapproval. 

“I think you wanna watch,” She sat up, lifting her knees and resting her freezing hands on your thighs, her pretty pussy on full display, “Missed me that bad?” 

She’s right there, but you can’t move. More tears, more begging from you. 

“Wanna see a trick I learned?” She inquired mischievously. You didn’t have a chance to answer before more vine-like organs emerged from the dirt, eager and throbbing, globs of slick dribbling from their tips.

“When you’re sad and horny, answers will eventually fall in your lap,” She watched the appendages sliver all over her shoulders, her back, down her stomach. Her head flew back, her short flyways waving around her horns. 

“I bet that fucked up head of yours never expected this would happen, huh? Never thought you’d see me like this?” She moaned out as the suctioned limb traveled over her left nipples, her eyes beaming red, scorching through your chest. 

Your walls squeezed down on nothing, desperate groans leaving your throat, underwear clinging to your cunt. You couldn’t close your legs, the members slinked around coming up to suck on your thighs. 

Nasty little cuck, her voice boomed through your skull, Wanna watch me get fucked, right?

Your head bobbed dumbly. The appendages scurried down her body. You watched as the veins in her horns glowed brighter, her eyes shading an even deeper scarlet, her lip catching between her teeth when the suctions came in contact with her clit. 

The slippery members attacked your thighs with strong suctions, the sensitive skin littered with blotchy, dark spots. A wet slither made its way up your body, under your sweatshirt and in between your tits. The tip teased both nipples, your back arching deeper for more friction. The air was muggy and your body was disgustingly sticky; The sensations made your clit jerk. 

You blearily stared up at Ellie, nearly cumming at the sight of her with a thick, throbbing appendage fucking into her pussy, another two attacking her nipples. Her walls were stretched around the dark, pulsing tentacle, her juices filling the open air with sopping squelches. 

Her eyes fluttered open and refocused on you, a dark line of drool dripping from her mouth and landing on your exposed torso. You released a pained shout, your skin burning at the contact. Tension built tight in your core, clit throbbing in your underwear. You’re struggling to breathe, head floating further into the clouds with each whimper from Ellie. She giggled hazily, moans sounding between her condescending snickers. She gathered spit in her mouth and allowed it dribble onto one of your breasts. 

S’hitting it s’good! Fuck, I can’t—

Finally, finally, the tentacles choking your legs unraveled and crawled up, closer to your drenched cunt. Just one touch — you need one touch and you’ll cum. Just one, just one, please, please—

Slut needs t’cum? Beg some fuckin’ more, c’mon, Ellie’s moans and shouts in your head were somehow bringing you closer to that peak you desperately craved. 

“Please, El, please, fuck… me— “

“I’m — oh, fuck, yes— “

Your shorts and underwear were being ripped from around your waist, yanking you in all directions. The friction made your walls constrict tight. The harsh suctions on your clit were instantaneous. Finally, finally, finally—

You and Ellie’s moans melted together, colors floating behind your eyelids. The wet sounds from Ellie’s pussy made your peak build in record time, zoning in on her cries. You’re going to cum so hard. It’s almost there, just a little bit more— 

Ellie’s everywhere. In your head, line of blurry vision, on top of you, about to break and shatter. She's so perfect, shrouded in darkness and gloom and desire.

The tentacle suddenly expanded inside her pussy, stretching it wider, massaging all the spots that made her see white. 

“M’gonna fucking cum, s’gonna make me cum— “

You’re so close, you’re close, you’re close. You wordlessly begged her to cum with you. Her knees trembled while her legs begged to close, but she forced them open. Forced herself to take everything, all of it. The tentacle pulsed sporadically inside her, and she crashed. 

Pleasure was snatched away from you in an instant, the suckles on your clit gone. You cried and sobbed for Ellie to make you cum, but she ignored you, her body wracking in pleasure, heavy globs of black slick dribbling from her cunt, right under your tits. 

She rode it out, bouncing on the large appendage before it shrunk to its original size. It jerked inside her a few more times before leaving her completely, more dark, gooey liquid dripping from her pussy. 

She came down slowly, giddy laughs leaving her swollen lips as her walls rippled from the aftershocks. 

“This is gonna be…” she scooped up some of the substance with her razor-like nails before shoving them into your mouth. 

The peculiar twang coated your tastebuds. She continued. 

“So much fun.” 

You never thought you’d have the chance to kiss Ellie again. 

But you are, and you’re so fucking nervous. 

When you kissed her for the first time, you were confident, impulsive, reckless. Your regret didn’t come until after, but now here you two were, her split tongue messily sliding over yours, your tongue sizzling from the venom coating her mouth. Ellie’s mess seeped into your skin with each jerk of her hips. You’d give anything to touch her. 

Your eyes squeezed shut every time she suckled on your lips, licked up your chin, squeezed her hand over your throat. She’s much more secure this time around; It’s almost enough to get you there. 

Almost. 

You were suddenly yanked back by your hair, head thudding the ground. Ellie seemed deep in thought, eyes distant. 

“You’re a bad kisser.” 

Your lip quivered. Ouch, “S… Sorry…”

“Ellie?” Your throat burned. 

“Yes, dear?”

Her tone made you flinch. Everything you wanted to say left your brain in a cloud of smoke. 

“Am… Am I…?”

“Are youuu…?” She trailed off. Her hand disappeared, lower, before a loud, sticky noise blaring in your head. She sighed happily; Ellie’s touching herself. Right in front of your face. 

Your face is on fire and your shoulders are cramping up. 

“Will… Can I, can I cum?” 

“I don’t know… can you?” She shrugged with a smile. 

Your eyes nearly rolled in annoyance; they would’ve if you weren’t so desperate to be fucked senseless. 

She sat up fully, her wet hand reaching right in between your legs. They nearly clamped shut on her wrist, but more tentacles appeared to hold them open for her. She wasn’t looking at your pussy, but she knew exactly where to touch you. She rubbed her own juices into your clit, a nasty shhlck filling the calm air. 

Tears built in your eyes at the sensitivity, your toes digging into the dirt beneath you. Her thoughtless mumbles were barely registering in your melting brain. Your impending orgasm nearly crashed into you before she stopped. 

Your body tensed and your pleasure dissipated. Sobs left your mouth as you garbled, “E—llie, please, please, no more— “

“Don’t close your legs, I mean it. Take what I give you like a good bitch,” Ellie shimmied down your body, resting in between your legs. The tentacles hooked under your knees and forced them up, holding them right against your chest. You can’t see what Ellie’s doing and she’s silent. 

You wanted to ask what was taking so fucking long—

A loud crack rang through the heavily wooded area, pain searing through your thigh. The stinging sensation brought tears to your eyes, sobbing softly to yourself. 

The sudden flicking against your clit brought tears to your eyes. She’s touching you, finally. Your arms pulled at the veiny tentacles still clamped around your wrist, aches running down to your shoulders at the stiffness. 

Ellie’s fingers were replaced with something much softer, and your body turned to mush. The appendages around your thighs twisted tighter, gripped harder, as the barbs from her tongue caught on your clit. It felt so fucking good; her split muscle moved so quick on your clit; your yelps of her name sound into the crisp air. You’ve been on the verge of cumming this entire time, but you can’t.

Suddenly, her tongue is easing downward, brushing against your perineum. Your hips tried to push down into her muscle, but to no avail. You could feel numbness building in your feet from the restriction. 

Look at this tight little ass, two of her fingers were massaging your other hole, causing you to whimper. 

Yeah? she pressed down harder, Like it right there?

Your head gravely bobbed in approval; you’ve never been touched there, but you crave it now. 

Tiny fucking hole… gotta get you ready, huh?

Her voice is thick and haughty; you’re shivering. 

A glob of spit lands on your ass, the sensitive skin tingling, numbness spreading across the pulsing area. She rubbed it in quickly and gave your hole one last slap. 

Her tongue was back at your cunt; you squealed at the sensation of her tongue slivering past your entrance, walls stretching over her muscle. The soft splinters massaged your walls just right, caressing all the spots inside you and you felt it building — 

Suddenly, her tongue stretched wider, expanded, pressed down on your walls, right on your spot; you were squirting on her tongue seconds later. You couldn’t warn her of your orgasm before you bursted, walls desperately milking her as satisfied shouts escaped your lips, your brain turning to goo. 

“El — mmh! Fuck, yes, rightthere! —“

Sniveled thank yous were pouring from your lips as Ellie fucked into you, your juices coating her face. Bursts of color exploded behind your eyelids. 

You thought you would never come down, but the intensity of your orgasm slowed, eyes slowly blinking open. Your vision was spotty; Ellie slowly pulled out, humming at the squeals that left you. You couldn’t move. 

Suddenly all the tentacles were gone, limbs free and weightlessly plopping onto the ground. Your eyelids fell shut in exhaustion, your heart flooding with longing.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” A light kick on your shoulder. 

Ellie… 

“Get the fuck up. I’m not done,” she snorted coldly. 

Ellie… please…

“What the fuck did I say,” The agitation in her tone rose. 

I’m so sorry… 

“I don’t care,” You were suddenly pushed onto your back, Ellie standing over you, eyes glowing dimly. 

I miss you so much… 

Memories of your past flowed through you, soft sobs shaking your weak form. Ellie deserved… everything good out of life. The purest forms of happiness were destined in her path, and you took it away. You took everything from her, and all you could do was watch what she’s become. What you caused. 

The more you cried, the more disgusted she seemed, eyes growing darker. 

She pounced on you in seconds, nails grasping your bunched sweatshirt and sharp tail tip prepped to end you right then and there, speckles of spit splattering on your face due to her shouts. 

“DON'T!” The dying world around you shook with the bass of her tone. “Don’t you fucking dare!” 

You didn’t fight. You allowed her to berate you, call you every vile name in the book, and digested her wishes of you dying instead of her. Every scream slammed into your chest; you merely laid there, ready to die with love in your chest. 

I love you… I love you… I love you… 

“FUCK YOU, YOU LYING BITCH! FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING DID THIS TO ME! I’M GONNA KILL YOU— “

Bloody streams fall from Ellie’s eyes, the veins in her head changing from maroon to coal, the veins in her arms darkening as her voice deepened, razorous teeth baring. She sobbed and screamed from above you, wailing how much she hated you. You’re numb. 

The venom from her tail was discharging from the tip. It’s time; it’s your last day alive. You nodded to yourself. You deserve this; You’re ready. You hope your siblings aren’t too saddened by your disappearance. 

Is this the final stage of grief? Your body is lax and accepting, heavy droplets leaving your eyes when they shut. 

I love you… I’m sorry… I love you… 

Another sharp prick went through your shoulder, and darkness enclosed around you. 

JUNIOR YEAR: 2012

You’re such a dork!

Ellie swears her heart is going to grow legs and crawl up her throat in the next thirty seconds if you keep staring at her like that. She's projecting; She’s the dork!

The few shots she took at the lake were wearing off, and her nerves were finally catching up to her. She was surrounded by your pillows, your stuffies, your scent; she could barely swallow, her throat was so dry. 

You love me. 

She does. Ellie never acted on her swiftly developed crush; she’s not built for rejection, especially from you. The smile on your face was so bright; your joy was so apparent whenever she was around. She hoped her own happiness reflected the same way; Please love me back! Please please please—

Her heart exploded, sewed itself back together, only to explode again when your hand came up, fingertips barely grazing her cheek. She’s going to faint; your touch was so soft. Was she crazy to compare the feel of your hands to rose petals? She tried to keep her nuzzles subtle, pushing her face closer to your hand; Is this how cats feel when they want cuddles? 

You proceeded to explore her face in silent adoration, and she did the same, memorizing every detail she could. The moles on your face were lined like stars. 

She scooted closer to give you more access to her now burning skin, and you kissed her. Ellie was stunned, body stiff; she didn’t have a chance to kiss you back before you pulled away. The scent of alcohol was pouring from you, and Ellie snapped back to reality. 

You’re drunk. You kissed her and you’re drunk. 

You’re probably not going to remember the entire night when you wake the next morning. Ellie’s eyes nervously searched your now downcast face. Say something, you coward! 

But you spoke first. 

You love me, right? 

More than anything, Ellie wanted to scream, not caring if your parents woke up and kicked her out. But she couldn’t. Her brain was moving a million miles a minute, trying to find the words that would satisfy her feelings, but they were too strong. She’s in too deep; Words aren’t enough. 

But you look broken and your body’s tense. She’s putting you on edge and she hates herself for it. 

Do you love me? Your begging tone snapped her out of her head. 

Of course I do, she gasped, mouth gaping like a fish. 

More than anything! More than anything! I love you! 

You only nodded, relaxed back into her, and shut your eyes. 

Ellie went to sleep with a terrible feeling in her stomach, but she held you anyway. 

Ellie’s weight crushed you as she sobbed into your neck, her cries loud and guttural, the sharp puncture of her horn pressing into the plush of your cheek. Her curses grew weak and quiet, mumbles of I fucking hate you cementing into your skin. 

You simply laid beneath her, unmoving and stunned wordless at the memory — the truth that Ellie exposed to you. Her body jerked on yours as she wailed. 

You hardly noticed the fresh tears rolling down your face. You sniffed, “Ellie…”

She sobbed, her head shaking dismissively. 

“Ellie… Look at me…” You couldn’t move. 

“Fuck you,” her choked murmur was hushed. 

A sad smile grew on your face. 

“Almost did…” 

Ellie sniffed harshly against the burnt skin on your neck, almost touching your bloody shoulder, “What.” She mumbled flatly. 

“Y’know… you almost did fuck me.” 

Some silence passed before a wet snort came from below you. Your grin widened. 

Ellie’s shoulders shook slightly as she snickered into your neck, arching hers slightly to look at you. 

“I should kill you for that, you cunt. You’re not funny.” 

Your body jerked with laughter, and you grimaced at the pain in your shoulder. “That's what you get.” Ellie sat up straight, smile slowly dissipating, eyes glossing over. 

The light moment between you shifted, and sorrow weighed you down like bricks. 

“I fucking loved you,” Ellie whispered harshly. “I wanted you to be happy. And you didn’t fucking care.” Anger was radiating off her, but the dread in her eyes was more telling. “You were… everything to me.” 

The wounds in your heart were overflowing; your efforts of repairing your heart were proved pointless, blood and love and suffering filling your chest to the brim. Quiet sobs were shared between the two of you.

“Please k-kiss me,” Ellie’s eyes squeezed shut at your hushed proposal. 

“Just one more. You can do whatever you want… just one last time.” 

You sat up slowly, ignoring the deep aches in your side, your trembling hands cautiously raising to cup Ellie’s frosty cheeks. 

Her face is so close; her lips are right there… just one more, just one—

Ellie’s eyes traveled across your face, lust and years of longing flooding in her tears. Her eyes shut and she leaned forward, her cold lips melding against yours. The kiss was gentle, your eyes squeezing shut as you cried, your tears transferring onto her cheeks. 

Ellie’s hushed tone filled your head. 

I wish I hated you. 

You choked a sob, arms wrapping around her hips to pull her closer, her arms enclosing around your neck, the kiss growing hotter. You needed her closer; so much closer. 

Her tongue slid past your mouth, the split muscle messily flicking over yours as her hips bucked down. You heard loud tears of cloth coming from behind you as Ellie shredded your sweatshirt with her claws, discarding the fabric on the dark heaps of grass. 

She sighed into your mouth when you laid her back onto the grass soaking, crawling on top of her. Her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you down to reconnect your mouths, her fangs cutting into your bottom lip. She sucked the injured skin, humming at the metallic taste; your hips bucked down harder to meet hers, and she whimpered. 

Her hands were freezing as they slid down your bare sides, claws pressing into your hips. You could feel your heart pounding in your throat as you kissed down her neck, soft noises of satisfaction erupting from beneath you. You suckled on her throat, tongue sliding down to her jaw and back up again.

“Can I, fuck, let me do something— “

You moaned in approval, thighs shaking at the sound of her voice, coming back up to press your mouth against hers. 

A heavy gasp left you at the feel of slime dripping onto your thigh. Ellie dug her nails into your hips to steady you, and you whined at the sting. You stared down, entranced at her gleaming eyes, bottom lip trapped between her teeth. 

“Hold still.” Ellie’s whisper was strangely comforting, your body relaxing into hers. The light suck on your thigh made you squeak, chuckles releasing from the girl beneath you. 

“And you’ve been doing this for how long?” you jokingly snarked, voice shaky. 

“Meh, six years, nothing crazy,” she replied, shrugging sarcastically. “Just don’t move.” 

Ellie’s hand moved lower, pressing at the end of your spine to deepen the arch in your back. She shushed your eager whimpers, slowly easing your hips back until your cunt brushed against the serpent-like organ. You shuddered and attempted to jerk away at the strange sensation, but Ellie held you still, snorting to herself. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips at the feel of its tip swirling at your clit, your head dropping onto Ellie’s shoulder. It took mere seconds for the suction to attack your sensitive clit, pleasured moans huffing from your mouth. Ellie’s mouth was right by your ear, her chilled breaths sending shockwaves down your spine. Your clit throbbed under the pressure: how were you already on the verge of cumming? 

“Feels g-good? Yeah?” 

Your walls were squeezing down harshly, desperate to hug and milk something hot through your orgasm. It takes all your strength to lift your head and kiss Ellie, but she does all the work; licking into your mouth, sucking on your tongue, bruising your lips with every slice of her fang. Every pass of her tongue is a pull in your gut, your clit pulsating with vigor. 

She pulled back, just barely, to whisper how excited she is to fuck you, to turn your pussy out, to make you cry.  Your moans were loud and eager, your head bobbing dumbly in compliance with anything she wanted. You’d give her everything you could in this moment. 

Ellie’s in your head, in your senses, in between your thighs, and you’re losing it. She’s reaching at you, tugging at your body in any way she could: scratching at your tits, pulling your hair, clawing into your skin with intent to scar. You’re sure your back is bloody. Her touch is painful; why does it feel so good? 

Your thoughtless head drops yet again as your orgasm is forced out of you, your walls choking the hot air surrounding the two of you. Your wails are muffled along with Ellie’s spat praises, your hips bucking back for more. The pleasure is almost too much and you’ve barely started; She hasn’t even fucked you yet. 

Your juices are pooling out of you, knowingly making a puddle on Ellie’s tummy, her affirmed moans pulling more and more out of you. Your peak is unrelenting, draining every last bit of energy your body has left. Your limbs gave out, your weight crashing on top of Ellie’s. 

She hastily maneuvered you onto your back, the spines of grass puncturing your skin from beneath you as she climbed on top. 

“Your stamina’s fucked.” 

Her winded snide remarks didn’t bother you; you need her to fuck you. You’re sweaty and desperate to feel her everywhere. She wasted no time, reuniting your mouths in an eager kiss as her hands ventured anywhere they could. Your body’s aching, but for some reason, you crave more. More hurt, more pain; You need her to use you. 

The world around you moved like water; unlike your first dream, the waves brought comfort. Ellie’s touch felt like the ocean washing you away, all with effort to finally bring you peace. 

But it didn’t work. You love her; You deserve pain, and you love her. 

Her mouth is on your tits, biting and sucking at your nipples. It feels so good to have her this close; your body’s wet and ready for her to ravish you. 

Ellie scurried down your body, sat on her knees in between your legs, her hands pressed under yours to hold them up. Your thighs are resting on your chest as Ellie dribbles a line of slobber over your soaking lips. Hums fill the space between you as it slides down, right over your entrance. 

Seconds pass as Ellie stares at your cunt; You call out to her by mistake. 

“What.” 

Fuck. “No-nothing. Sorry.”

“You want something. Say it.” 

You shake your head, and she smiles. Raunchy imagery of her fucking your pussy flash across your mind in an instant, and her grin widens. 

You jolt at the sudden slap on your cunt before Ellie presses your legs even higher, knees almost next to your head. You ignore the aching stretch in your limbs and reach to grab your ass cheeks, holding them open for her. Heat spreads across your face when she moans at the sight. 

Oh fuck, Ellie’s whimpering to herself; whining about how good your pussy’s going to feel, how you’re going to swallow her whole, choke her out. Juices are oozing from your cunt with each jerk of your walls. 

A tentacle emerges from the ground, and Ellie’s expression darkens. It’s lecherous; the way she eyes your pussy as the organ slivers closer to your entrance. You couldn’t hold your moans in anticipation of the stretch. It’s right there, swelling and twitching. 

Your head falls back against the sopping grass when your hole grasps the wide, leaking tip, eyes rolling into your head as Ellie’s moans ring deep in your skull. The tentacle is practically melting between your walls as they spasm. 

Ellie’s so loud above you, completely hunched over your form as her body shudders, her lip trapped between her sharp teeth. They must’ve pierced the skin, a thin trail of black liquid dripping all the way down her neck. 

You take it so fuckin’ good, Ellie’s slurring, tongue swelled in her mouth. You’re already peaking, your legs attempting to slam shut at the tight hug of your walls. The organ is suddenly swelling, walls stretching around the girth to trap it as deep as it can go. Tears are running down your face, groans of Ellie’s name melding with your harsh breaths. 

Seconds pass, and the tentacle’s shooting inside, and your head goes blank, your orgasm slamming into you. You're silent as it wrings your body. The intensity is almost painful, like it’s being forced from your body and your cunt’s drained dry: it’s hot inside you where the fluid pools, and your walls are sucking it deeper. 

You didn’t register Ellie falling forward, her body convulsing on yours, screams of how good your cunt is leaving her in a flurry. Her words are gritted and deep and her nails are in your bicep, but the pain only makes you cum harder. 

It’s been minutes, and you’re deadweight, walls twitching around the still jerking organ planted deep inside your guts. No time to recover, though; Ellie’s pulling out, a nasty sound echoing at her departure as cum seeps — drenches the grass under you. It’s never-ending and sticky and you need more. 

Ellie’s already up and moving you onto your stomach, your cheek pressed against the dirt. She’s hasty, spitting on your cunt with a fiery just a dumb slut, huh? You nod, squeezing your walls to push more cum out. There are heavy suctions on your back, forcing blood to the surface at the curve of your spine. Followed by a sharp stabbing on your ass cheek. 

Ellie’s mouth is on your supple skin, and the blood in your ass rushes to the surface. Her fangs are locked into you as she empties the veins in your ass. 

You couldn’t even scream, eyes squeezing shut at the searing pain as your walls release more cum. Ellie hums: another bite. More blood’s leaving you, being sucked from your ass, your thighs, the end of your spine, but it’s not enough. You need more. Ellie’s draining you but it’s not nearly enough. 

Another tentacle presses in once more, and your vision’s blurring; there’s another tentacle sucking at your ass, your eyes crossing at the stimulation of both your holes. Ellie’s nails are breaking the skin of your back, dribbles of blood sliding down your sides and into the dirt. You love her and you love it; everything feels so warm and full and good. 

Ellie’s chides are making you wetter; your thighs won’t stop shaking, she sounds so sexy. Every shockwave in your brain is memorizing every word, every syllable. She's babbling about how she might spare, keep you trapped here forever so she can drain your blood through your pussy, suck you dry, and it gets you there again. 

Ellie — m’cu—cumming!

You don’t know what you’re saying; voice muffled against the dirt, tears and snot running down your face while you squeal like a pig. Ellie’s calling you one as you squirt on her, just a dumb, worthless pocketpussy; The smile on your face is stupid as your walls drain her while she throbs inside you. You’re so stuffed with her cum already, but you need more inside you. You feel so fucking good and the pleasure won’t seize. 

It picks up again as the thrusts get faster, hitting you deeper, just where you need it. You don’t get to recover before you’re slung into another mind-numbing orgasm, your body wracking without rest. Ellie’s massaging every spot that makes your spine break, dirt collecting under your nails as they puncture the ground. Your groans are cracking in your throat; You can’t even swallow. 

The tentacle’s swelling again, and Ellie’s hand is on the back of your head, pressing your cheek against the grass, nails scratching at your scalp as you beg for her cum. Her moans are picking up again, demanding that you beg some more, that you fucking cry for it, be a good girl a bleed for me. And you do. 

As messily as you can; slobber pooling at your mouth as you sob and choke for her cum, eyes crossed in your skull as your tongue lolls, and Ellie’s shooting in you again, stuffing you to the brim as she cries your name from behind, grunts leaving her with each rope of cum seeps in your womb. 

Your pussy’s melting around her when the sucking at your ass pauses, only to push in the incredibly tight space, to stretch your virgin hole open around its girth. It should hurt, having both holes filled to such a wild degree, but it doesn’t. Your weak arm is reaching behind, desperately grabbing at Ellie. You expect her to smack you away, to hit you, to slice your hand clean off your wrist, but she doesn’t; You almost miss the light touch, her pinky lacing with yours. 

You’re joyous, head dropping as you sob from pleasure and happiness, heart filled with a love that you never thought you’d feel again. 

She’s drilling your ass, fucking you so hard and good as she holds your smallest finger with hers, kissing down your bloody back, licking up the scarlet that leaks from your skin. Suddenly, another tentacle — much smaller than the ones tearing your holes up — emerges from the ground, right in front of your face, its juices leaking onto your cheeks. 

It wiggles in front of your open mouth before shoving in; the taste is salty and metallic, but your lips work it, sucking and licking all around the length. You feel so filthy and it’s making your tummy tug, another orgasm building in your pussy and ass. It’s going to shatter you completely from its strength, you can feel it. 

Your body’s aching for more cum; you’re surprised it’s not coming spilling from your throat and onto the appendage in your mouth. But Ellie’s close, every whisper becoming more frantic as she rides that edge. 

You’re mine, she whispers in your ear, Fucking mine, you understand? You’re not going anywhere. 

You get it, you get it! You’re never leaving her again. Fuck everything you’ve built for yourself! Your life is pointless without Ellie next to you. You’re going to cum so hard for her. 

Your body’s hers; Your heart is hers; your soul is hers. You love her, you love her! 

Baby likes that? I own this fucking pussy? 

She knows she does: whispers so gross and conniving and you’re twitching under her. You’re babbling around the swelling appendage, telling her — screaming that you belong to her, you always have. You always will! 

You feel her teeth as she grins madly in satisfaction, sloppily mumbling mine mine s’ my pussy against your skin as she swells inside you. You’re stretching, gaping around her and you snap, head planting into the dirt. Both sets of walls clamp down sporadically around the large digits between them, the tentacle slipping from your mouth as you scream. 

Ellie’s exploding inside both holes, the tentacle above you spraying all over your face, heavy globs of cum landing in your hair, the back of your neck, splattering on your mouth, anywhere it could reach. Juices are spraying from between you, and Ellie falls forward, her freezing chest on your back as she jerks on top of you. Hearing her just as destroyed from the pleasure sends another surge of euphoria through you, somehow stronger than the first. 

You can barely take it, but Ellie makes you, continues flooding your holes until they’re overflowing and sticky. You’re both sent to another plane as you convulse together, her pinky still locked with yours as you lose consciousness. 

When you wake, there’s warmth. 

You’re still filled to the brim with cum, but your form is blanketed. Small, tired huffs hit your back as Ellie shivers on top of you, barely audible noises alerting her satisfaction. You smile. 

You can't move; all your strength is used to wiggle the cramped muscle of your interlocked finger. Tears well in your eyes when Ellie’s finger hugs yours tighter with every small movement. 

Ellie’s the blanket; Ellie’s warm. 

Suddenly, everything around you is pink, the formerly empty spaces in your heart filled with affection. You missed Ellie so much; You’re finally reunited, and in love. You can’t stop smiling, and neither can she. 

—

—

—

‘BREAKING NEWS: BAKERY OWNER FOUND DECAPITATED IN MOTEL BED’

Today marks one of the most heart-wrenching, horrifying days that our community has ever seen, the local reporter stated. We have never witnessed a case end this disastrous. 

To the loved ones of this individual, we share our deepest condolences. The victim made such a large impact on our tiny town with her small business. Nobody… the reporter sighed, Nobody could’ve seen this coming. 

Please be on the lookout for any updates regarding the suspect. Investigators are putting as much effort into this case as they can. Police suggest staying indoors with your loved ones this holiday until further instructions. 

May God be with her family. Have a blessed night. 

idk how to use picsart sorry yall LOL

taggiesss ily thank u 4 being patient :D :

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[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (A bet with Simon about wearing a vibrator secretly and not to come in public)

A bet with Simon brought you to the predicament now. Squeezing through the crowded station’s concourse with his hand around you waist, looking like a normal couple, but no one knows there’s a remote controlled vibrator—designed to stimulate your g spot and have a little curve hooked snuggly against your clit—buzzing freely inside you.

Don’t come in 10 minutes, then you can do anything to him, his words ignited the competitive fire inside you.

The weather is cold, allow you to excuse your flush with it, hide your face in the scarf slightly when your moans sneak their way out.

“Only 3 minutes passed, sweetheart.” He leans down to murmur as he lead you across the concourse, the sultry tone disguised within, only able to get noticed by you. You shoot daggers back at him, try not to drop to your knees whenever someone accidentally bump into you in this packed station, making your thighs shifted in the force and the vibrator digs further into the sweet spot.

You meet his eyes behind his disposal mask and black cap, and you know the bastard is laughing at you from the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

Your eyes are glossy with the tears from the constant stimulation, trying to threaten him with those bunny eyes but failed adorably. He can tell you’re teetering on the edge, and he’s been enjoying your fluster too much, his trousers straining behind the cover of his long coat. How can he not when you look absolutely cute like this, stopping between of your steps to forbear the orgasm, arms holding with his tighten and press your cheek against his bicep to stifle the whimpers.

You let out a sigh of relief when he dials down the intensity, look up at him with a hint of disbelief. The vibrations keeps sending shivers down your spine, your legs are doing their best to stay straight, but it’s much better than they were seconds before. So you give his hand a squeeze, resume the walk across the massive concourse.

The walk is torturous, every steps is worsening the divine ache between your legs. You didn’t like how the vibrator rutting into your sensitive clit, your panties isn’t soaked with all the juices and you’re not clenching that tight cunny under the onslaught of pleasure. You brainwash yourself repeatedly, the vibrations never cease, and you’re dancing on the edge even after Simon turned it down a few notches earlier. One minute left, just one minute…

Of course it won’t be that easy, he just wants to prolong your pleasure and get the show go on as long as it could, before finally breaking you.

Just as you two almost reach the main entrance of the station, you almost tripped when he abruptly changes the intensity once again. Covering your mouth and fully cling onto him, you’re totally speechless when he leads you to stand aside in the station, pulling you into his arms and coos lowly.

“Come for me, love, let it out.” His fingers card through your silky hair when you bury your face into his chest, muffling all the cries as you get pushed over the edge, gushing in your panties and you know it’s definitely ruined by now.

A few people spare a glance at your way, curious about what just happened before going on their life. Yet you’re totally unaware of it, trying to quiet your whines and you keep tucking yourself in his arms.

Simon adjusted his coat, enough to engulf you in it, and he keeps crooning sweet nothings into your ears “You’re so beautiful, so gorgeous when you came in my arms, love.” His voice soothing you along with his palm rubbing on your back, hiding you in his coat and shield you from the world, even though he’s the one bringing you the luscious torment.

Supported by his strong hands so you won’t fall to the ground with wobbly feet, you lift your head from his chest after your breaths slows down, and you manage not to punch him in the face when pat your head and remind you the truth.

“9 minutes 47 seconds, you didn’t make it to 10 minutes. what a shame.” Simon’s chest rumbles with the quiet laughters. You see the mischief in his rich brown eyes, and hell, he’s definitely thinking about how he will get you to do from losing the bet.

[essektheylyss]

“Your delinquent child is outside, and I have assured him that he is very, very grounded.”

Between Yeza and the campers still waiting for their parents to arrive from around the coast to collect them, Veth wasn’t sure any of them saw her move between the dining room and the foyer before she’d thrown the front door open.

Outside, Caleb held Luc by the back of the vest, neither of them looking any worse for wear. Behind them, Jester and Fjord looked a bit sheepish, though not nearly as sheepish as her son, who had almost curled into himself beneath the venomous look she’d given him.

“I thought you were dead! You're never leaving this house again! I couldn't get in contact with anyone and I thought you were fucking dead!” she screeched, before any of them could move, but Luc almost kept pace with her, slipping from his godfather’s grasp and, to her surprise, likely to the others’ surprise as well, threw his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I should’ve listened to you, I’ll stay grounded for as long as you want—“

Veth spluttered for a moment, though her arms wrapped around him in return. This had not been how he’d returned under Kingsley’s grasp, caught by the ear and cursing up a storm.

It took a long moment to realize that Luc was trembling beneath her grasp. Very faintly, but definitely trembling.

She looked over his shoulder at Caleb, then Fjord and Jester. “There have been… several lessons learned in the past thirty-six hours,” Caleb said, his tone even stonier than his expression.

Fjord nodded slightly in agreement, carrying the weight of agreement. Her grasp on her son tightened, and she kissed his hair. Her sharp tone felt empty and hollow even to her own ears.

“Don’t you ever run away again— Don’t you know what I’d do if you were killed—“

“I know, Mom,” Luc interrupted, and for the first time in weeks— months— a long fucking time— he didn’t sound petulant.

He sounded like her boy.

“I kept him safe,” Caleb said flatly, also without any defensiveness. There was, even for Caleb, a dark flame behind his eyes. It felt like a spark she hadn’t seen in quite a few years.

“He was very particular about it,” Jester agreed, and then, in a poorly-disguised whisper, “Trent.”

Veth’s grip tightened, and she pulled Luc aside, away from the doorway. “Come in, tell me all about it—“ she pulled back and checked him over as Caleb nodded and passed inside. “You’re all in one piece, you’re alright—?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he agreed, with exhaustion. “Uncle Deuce made sure we were all in one piece.”

Jester pouted as she passed. “I also made sure you were okay, alright, but Caduceus is so helpful, you know, and honestly, in the end, it wasn’t even that bad— we saved most of the town, and we had a great party, and—“

She stopped her rambling in the middle of the doorway and clapped both hands to her mouth as Luc ducked under both of them into the house.

“Oh. My. Gods, Veth, you will not believe— Fjord proposed to me—“

With the number of things Jester had just imparted to her, it was honestly a testament to her own intelligence that Veth managed to process them in time to turn to Fjord just as he started up the steps, stopping him in his tracks.

“You what? And I missed it—?!”

"You know, Jester, I think we can let Caleb debrief the Brenatto family alone—"

She had him by the ear before he could move, which was an impressive feat considering he was over half her height, but he was almost as slippery of a bastard as she was.

Within an instant, he'd turned to mist in her grasp and vanished to the other side of the street, Jester complaining behind her all the while. Veth shrieked after him. "You piece of shit!"

In response, he yelled, "That's soon-to-be Admiral Tusktooth-Lavorre to you!"

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.

Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.

So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.

Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.

I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.

At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.

I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.

I don’t think she knows about Alys.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.

Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.

Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.

When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.

You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.

“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.

“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”

This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”

Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”

“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”

Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”

“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.

Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”

“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”

“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”

You are alarmed. “What? By who?”

“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”

“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.

“They’re putting me on house arrest.”

Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relieved. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”

“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”

“But it’s different now.”

He’s right, it is.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”

“Of course I’ll call.”

“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”

I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”

The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.

“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”

“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”

“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”

Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.

~~~~~~~~~~

In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.

“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”

“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?

The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.

George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.

Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.

A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”

And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.

There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.

Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”

“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”

“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”

“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”

“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.

Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”

“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”

He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”

“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”

“How’s Jupiter?”

You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”

“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”

A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”

“In my lair. Like a beast.”

“Alone?”

A transitory pause. “At the moment.”

“On the shag carpet or your futon?”

Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”

“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.

“Where are you?” Aegon asks.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe I want a visual too.”

You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”

“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”

“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”

“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”

Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”

“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”

You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”

“In Seattle?”

“No. Right here.”

Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”

“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”

“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

“No,” you say, baiting him.

“But I could touch you.”

“You already have.”

“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”

“Do you remember what I felt like?”

“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”

“No, I want you to think about me.”

You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”

“Under the water,” you reply coyly.

“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”

Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.

He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”

“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”

“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”

Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.

“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me.”

“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”

There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Wait—!”

You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”

“My parents.”

If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”

You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”

There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”

He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”

Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”

“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”

“So how do I get him to do it?”

You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.

“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”

You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”

“What if Nixon still refuses?”

“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”

Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.

“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”

Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”

“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”

Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes you are.”

There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”

You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.

As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”

He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”

“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”

“It has to fit.”

“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Io…”

“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.

At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.

“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.

As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.

“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”

You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”

“It does,” you say softly.

“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”

Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”

Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”

“Actors don’t belong in politics.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.

As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a  Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.

“You alright?” Aegon whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look alright.”

“I’m great.”

“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?

On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.

“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”

In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”

“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”

“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”

“He doesn’t own you.”

“Legally, he does.”

He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”

“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”

“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Got it.”

You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.

The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.

“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.

Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.

We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

And only then does Aegon vanish.

[fakeboy-breeder]

sir but like i’m a knight and you’re my squire. you want so desperately to be a knight, but you’re a girl. or at least your cunt says so, you’re blatantly convinced your a man in a woman’s body. so, you disguise yourself, chop your hair, and bind your chest down with fabric wraps. you’re able to pull off scrawny young boy well enough, despite being years older than any other squire, and you’re elated. you’ve found a way in. you’ll just keep your slowly growing tits and pretty pink cunt hidden until you’re the strongest knight in the realm so no one can stop you anymore.

but then you’re assigned to me. i’m known for being brutal and going through squires like mugs of ale, breaking boys quickly so they understand they’ll never be a true knight unless they work for it. i’m also known for fucking my way through every town we enter, leaving every girls pussy gaped, needy, and flooded with my cum. even the kings best mathematician couldn’t begin to predict how many bastards of mine are running around the country and i take pride in it. cunts are to be bred, are they not?

after a few weeks of backbreaking labor and constant jabs at your feminine face, your clear weakness, your insufficiency with a sword, i’d start to take a liking to you, though you’d never guess. my treatment stays exactly the same, but i privately think i’d like to keep you around for a while, as you’re pleasant company. one day, your chest wrap breaks. you’re in the middle of doffing my horses saddle and you feel a rip, the cloth falls, and your tits begin pressing at your tunic. you try desperately to angle yourself to hide them, but in the couple months you’ve been binding them down they’ve grown enough that it’s impossible. and i’ve seen.

in that moment i push you against the outer wall of the castle. my quickly hardening dick rubs against your plush ass while i force your face into the stone. i’d ask you how you possibly thought you’d become a knight with udders like those. i’d strip you if your ill-fitting squires’ clothes and inspect your pretty cunt. i’d almost start laughing. the pretty little squire i liked is truly a delusional whore.

i’d fuck you then and there. force my fat cock into your virgin cunt out in the open, where any knight, servant, squire, or nobleman could stumble across your defloration. i’d keep my armor on, let the metal bite into your ass and thighs. when i finished, i’d be to force it deep in your cunt, flood your womb so you can make me another bastard

if you were good and learned your lesson, maybe i’d convince my king to allow me to take you as a bride. if you didn’t, if you tried to tell me some nonsense about being a man, i’d ride you down to the nearest whorehouse myself and sell you for barely enough to fund my next night at the tavern

[genderfluid-insomniac]

A/N: I had fun with this one!

Behind the curtain// Six-Eared Macaque x reader (NSFW)

“Fuck!” You harshly whispered and tugged on Macaque's midnight black fur, clapping your hand on your mouth as your heart raced and hearing the soft murmurs of the audience. The cold brick wall of the backstage pressed against your bare back and jolts of pleasure shot through you causing your legs to tighten around his head, hearing a hiss and feeling him bite your inner thigh. “Close your thighs together anymore and I’ll make you scream my name.” Slowly teasing your clit with his tongue and brushing the sensitive nub with his fangs.

Oh, how he adored that sharp intake of breath and how you easily agreed to this risky little escapade. The confusion washed over your face as he hoisted you up so your thighs were on either side of his head and your cute blush appeared when you realized he planned to eat you out just before a show. He looked back up at you with a smirk, hands firmly wrapped around your hips to keep you up. “Any louder and the audience might think they’re seeing a different show. I think that’d be fun, showing everyone else that you’re mine and mine alone.” You whined softly and gave him a desperate expression. Your chest and thighs were covered in hickeys and bites for proof you were taken.

He went back to work, letting his tongue roam your walls and searching for which spots gave the best reactions. Every now and then Macaque would let one of his sharp teeth graze your bundle of nerves which made you closer to cumming. Of course, he couldn’t let you cum now. Sucking your pussy harshly as you muffled a loud moan with your hand and glared at him for edging you, smirking against your wet cunt. “Bastard.” You managed to spit out.

Slick dripped from his lips and was smeared on your thigh as he left a trail of kisses up to your vagina, biting your soft plush skin and licking the tiny pricks of blood popping up. “My own mate calling me a bastard? After all the pleasure I’ve given you I would’ve thought you’d be begging for me to fuck you.” He teased and pushed his tongue into your hole before you could finish your retort. Your hand grabbed clumps of his fur behind his head and pushed your pussy closer to his mouth, rolling your hips as you felt your orgasm about to come crashing over you.

”Not yet, lotus.” He clicked his tongue and carefully lowered you down, keeping you against his chest to stop you from collapsing and kissing your lips softly. You caught your breath and whimpered as you felt your walls clamp around nothing, feeling your high quickly fall till it was nothing. Nuzzling his nose against your cheek and whispering in your ear. “I’ll consider letting you cum if you don’t touch yourself until my performance is over. You can be my good mate, can’t you?” He chuckled richly.

You nodded and bit back a curse, not wanting to dig your grave even further. Carefully putting on your discarded clothes with his help and sitting on on table near the ropes for the curtains and lights. Macaque put his hood up along with his human disguise and began to walk towards the center of the stage, glancing back at you for one last smug grin.

[edensremains]

sweet treats

summary: adam accidentally falls in love with a barista while disguising himself as a human

from my other account! available as a chatbot ^_^

Adam was out of his element in the fucking human realm.

It’s what being up in Heaven for a billion years ever does to you, especially when you’re the first man to ever bless the goddamn earth.

When Eve was kicked out of Heaven for eating the forbidden fruit, an apple he didn’t wanna fucking eat and told her just as much when she tried to offer it to him too, Adam scored a spot among the elite of Heaven with a new pair of shiny golden wings on his back. Sucks to suck, get fucked.

…It also sucks that paradise is so fucking boring when you’re not killing demonic cunts only once every year. There’s nothing to *do* because every day is a good day, getting shit-faced gets old quick when you can do it every single day and not wake up with any of the consequences. The hell was he supposed to do all the time while waiting for the next extermination?

He knew it was getting bad when even screwing angels was starting to feel like more of a chore than a good time. Honestly, the only time he could really get his kicks was doing it right after an extermination, still high on adrenaline and all the more cocky.

Eve was probably having the goddam time of her life, down there on Earth doing whatever the fuck she wants with humans. They invented all sorts of shit, and bitches were everywhere. God, what he would give to be down there enjoying that shit too.

Wait a minute.

—————————

Sticking it to the man was harder than he thought when it was so easy to go down to the human realm, hiding his angelic features in order to mingle amongst the everyday buzz of people.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but maybe that made it all the more better. So he made a routine of sneaking down after wiping his wings and halo clean, and conjuring what he saw human men wore. Shoes were so fucking lame, but he guessed they aren’t exactly able to walk among the clouds just yet.

That is, if any of these fuckers actually get up to the pearly gates, considering how all of them act. Who cares though? Adam loved the bitches that were eager to spread their legs, now they deserved a spot in Heaven more than the bastards he’d occasionally scrap with. So what if he fucked your girlfriend? Why is she at a bar pressing herself all up against him in the first place? He didn’t even have to do shit, they’d invite him over easy and he’d give them a taste of Heaven.

Honestly, it was all great until he royally FUCKED up.

The FIRST man, the original dick, the beginning of EVERYTHING. Fell for a fucking human. How stupid was that shit?

God, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw them walking down the street, nearly bumping into him in a rush. He was going to yell at them or some shit, nearly making him lose his next bed-warming target, until he got a glimpse of their face.

It was so over.

He followed them right into the coffee shop with a blank expression, completely mesmerized. They were so, so fucking pretty when they apologized to him. Their voice… The way they looked, the way they fluttered around him trying to get past him taking up the entire tiny ass sidewalk, made him suddenly want to bless the fucking construction worker who poured the minimal ass cement in this busy part of town. Plans to head to the nearest bar forgotten, he followed them into the cozy coffee shop.

And man was it fucking worth it. The fuck ass coffee was good, but he wasn’t here for that when he preferred getting shitfaced and balls-deep in some random slut.

No, he was here for them.

The first time he’d seen them, he was dumbfounded, acting stupid as fuck when he KNEW his worth, this whore would be lucky to get their ass in his bed. But God, and he meant the big man himself, what he wouldn’t give to actually have them in his goddamn bed. He might even consider getting down on his knees to beg if they blue-balled him any longer.

He’d left that night with a fierce determination to fuck the shit out of this random ass barista, he’d look at the name tag next time he was there. This wasn’t fucking running away, it was a strategic retreat. Fuck you.

Today had been a regular day for him since meeting them a couple of months ago. Instead of getting lucky, he’d found himself drawn back to the cafe every week and getting some stupid ass drink so he could watch his favorite barista make it and stare at them the entire time. He’d toss in a few remarks, and found himself forced to actually try and be respectful to some puny ass human that managed to get a chokehold on him.

He didn’t give a fuck if he wasn’t human and that going down to their realm wasn’t allowed, he wanted something and he’d fucking have it.

That being his barista, ‘cuz who the fuck else would it be?

“Gimme the good shit.” He demanded at the counter, a wad of bills clenched in his hand. His bitch looked so fucking fine today, it was practically taking all his strength to not stare at their ass instead of them. Pretty eyes and all, but FUCK. That uniform was doing wonders for them somehow. He didn’t fucking know, but he wanted a piece of it so goddamn bad.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Adam. The ‘good shit’ isn’t exactly a drink.” Their co-worked stifled a groan, clearly they weren’t happy to see his ass here yet again. Despite becoming somewhat of a regular, he didn’t give a shit about any of the other baristas. No, he wasn’t here for them, bland cunts.

“Give me the good shit. I don’t fucking know what it’s called. They know what the hell I’m talking about.” His eyes searched for as he turned his head in their direction, watching them try and juggle multiple cups of coffee on a tray.

“Fuck, whatever! Hey, you!” Their co-worker yelled, startling them enough to nearly drop a tray, some coffee tipping over the mugs and coating the tray with a few droplets before they could steady themself. Adam’s brows furrowed, an irritated feeling bubbling up, directed at the bitch at the counter. Not at his favorite human, *never* at them. God, he’d spoil the shit out of them if he could.

“Get this guy his fucking drink, whatever that is. I’ll get those.” Their co-worker sighed, setting down his notepad and trudging away to pick up their trays on the table.

They simply nodded, undisturbed at being yelled at, as if they were used to it. Adam forcefully shoved down his irritation, feeling pacified at seeing them taking that bastards place at the counter.

“Sup, slu— Sweetcheeks. Gimme the good shit, not a macchiato but the caramel one. The real one is fucking horseshit.” Of course he knows his fucking order, it’s their favorite drink to make. One night, they’d told him just as much, telling him that it was satisfying to watch the espresso sit on top of the milk, separated by the ice perfectly while doing criss-cross patterns with the caramel. He’d listened, then promptly stirred everything together in front of them just to be a little shit.

They’d rolled their eyes and laughed, which made his dick hard and his heart swell. He’d gotten it every time since. One time, they’d served him an actual macchiato and it was fucking horrible without the added syrup and shit. God, he’d nearly spat it out before making them get his usual caramel macchiato with blonde espresso and extra caramel lined on the cup, something they’d given him the first time he’d walked in and asked for a recommendation.

Way too fucking sugary for him, but he drank it all anyways, because his bitch put time and effort into making his goddam drink and he was gonna drink it all.

“Oh, and add in the stupid pastry you served me last time.” He’d added, then paused. “Please, bit—… Please.” He tossed some of his cash into the tip jar, hoping it’d go to them instead of their fuck ass co-workers.

“Coming right up! And you wanted a slice of our coffee cake?” They hummed happily as they took a slice from the display, and served it on a plate. They set it aside before turning their attention back to him. “You can go take a seat and I’ll bring it to you, okay?”

Adam nodded, oddly feeling lighter than he did when he walked in. His eyes lingered on them for a tad longer before he forced himself to walk to his usual spot in the corner, easily sliding into his booth as he pretended not to be looking at them and instead staring at his phone, something he’d gotten a couple weeks into disguising himself as a human.

Obviously his eyes were on them, but he didn’t want them to know that. Fuck, they looked good as hell today. It was sickening how easily he crumbled when it came to them, every interaction between the two just ensnared him further into their try. Witchcraft or some shit, it had to be. He was better than this.

It was always the other way around. He didn’t know what the fuck to do to catch their attention, he was the first man created! Bitches were all over him except this one. It was frustrating, and he’d almost vented to Lite about it before he caught himself.

Right. They don’t know shit about that part of his life.

Here, he was just Adam, the regular who gets the same drink and tries his best to chat them before peak hits and he watches them rush around trying to take orders and make drinks while their co-workers sit on their ass practically.

“There you are!” They set down his drink and the plate of coffee cake as they give him a beaming smile, one that makes his heart start pounding before he grips his hands into fists tightly under the table to calm himself down before he says something stupid.

“Fuck yeah, thanks.” He has a dumb smirk on his face and he knows it as he reaches for his drink, taking a long sip of the sugary beverage, and he suppresses a grimace at how sweet it is. Despite this, he shoots a grin at them. “You always make the best shit.” He tries to glance at their name tag to finish his words off, but like always, the chalk written on it has smeared and it’s unreadable.

“So, got any plans for the weekend or are you going to be here like always, serving coffee to assholes like me?” He tries to sound casual as he leans back in his seat, one eye peering at them for any sort of reaction they might have.

“Just the usual.” They smile, but it looks a tad tired. “Got a long shift, won’t be leaving until dark. The weather is supposed to be nice though, so I hope you get to enjoy it.”

He furrowed his brows slightly, someone like them shouldn’t be staring all cooped up in this shithole of a cafe when they clearly should be enjoying the weather or whatever humans do in their free time, he wouldn’t know. Sucks though, they have taxes and shit to pay for or whatever. Also something he wouldn’t know about, the human world is just filled with a bunch of weird stuff and rules.

“Sucks to suck, I guess. You free after your shift though?”

Nice. Subtle and nonchalant, Adam praised himself internally, a grin on his face.

They furrow their brows. -2 points, fuck. He watches as his barista internally debates something, briefly glancing at his drink before shaking their head. “Nah, I have to get some rest, got an early shift tomorrow morning.”

He can’t tell if they’re being truthful or not, but the sting of some sort of rejection stabs at him, as if he’d even extended any offer or invitation to go out (which he was BUILDING up to!). His grin falters for a moment before he smooths it over, this isn’t a rejection, he didn’t even say anything yet. Mind you, they were probably being honest, even if they won’t look him in the eye and they’re oddly flushed.

“Huh.” He replies unintelligently, not quite sure what else to say to keep them there. He doesn’t want them to go back to work just yet, but he can hear their coworkers shuffling closer, mumbling to each other about his barista ‘slacking’ off as if this place isn’t carried on their back. Fuck their fuck ass co-workers.

“Well, if you’re ever tired of his dump, come find me, yeah? I know a place with killer ribs.” He doesn’t, but they don’t need to know that. He’ll google it or something later. He glances at them out of the corner of his, trying to gauge a reaction to as if his nonchalant bad boy demeanor is working yet.

They let out a small laugh that sounds like the chiming of a bell, and his stomach does a funny flip before they give him a nod. “Will do, Adam. Enjoy your drink, okay?” They reach out and turn his drink around, before swiftly moving onto the next table, beginning to clean off some ungrateful fucks.

He raises a brow at their sudden moving of his cup, but brushes it off. He watches them for a moment more, letting out a small sigh. This human of his doesn’t even know how bad they have him wrapped around their finger. That’s a good thing though, Adam isn’t some simp for them to have on their roster.

He scoffs at the notion, before grabbing his cup and taking a sip, wincing again at all the sugar before his eyes notice a scrawl on the side of his cup.

Pulling it back, he glances at it before choking on the liquid still in his mouth, eyes wide as he frantically coughs, trying to get the drink down the right pipe before they turn their head at him.

A number, neatly written, paints the edge of his cup, and he frantically whips out his phone, wiping his mouth with his sleeve as he punches in the digits immediately in his contacts app. He can’t help the dopey expression on his face anymore, eyes honed in on the phones screen.

After, he pumps his fist in the air, not caring about how it looks to the other patrons.

FUCK YEAH, MAN.

[starryylies]

Hear me out now… ghost has a voodoo doll of you and he uses it to tease you in meetings and when you’re home and he’s at base😻

BEING SIMONS OBEDIENT LIL’ DOLL

Ongggg I love you and I love this ask so muchhhhhh ongggggg and I know I say this in every ask but sorry for replying late 😭

my finals start on Wednesday and these days I’m just clearing out my drafts for my recent posts in so sorry 😭😭

That’s like a plot from the webtoon I love (act like you love me, it’s soooooooo good)

goin to a shady ‘spiritual’ market with you was the last in his wish list buy when you were sooo insistent on buying crystals and quartz he just couldn’t say no :((

It was a chance meeting really you were just going home when you saw,

A shop in the corner of the market adorned with beautiful gems and red coloured leaves, it had no banner but the mysterious aura of the shop lured you in

Going inside you guys found an old lady selling dolls and you just couldn’t stop to look at one of them.

A doll that looked exactly like you

The skin colour, the hair, shape of your eyes.

it was exactly you.

Well a mini you,

While paying the lady told simon to keep the doll safe

He nodded along not thinking too much of it

That day When you and Simon were sleeping he accidentally slept on the doll which led to you feeling squished a suffocated

Waking Simon up with the sound of you choking

He quickly got up to see what’s wrong and the minute he got up from the doll you were fine

And You noticed that

You felt crazy ar first for believing that.

But proving it to Simon was hard,

he didn’t believe it until you made Him tug the dolls arm through which he noticed the pain caused on the exact spot

god he felt crazy too but he believed you

And the thing is your horny mind came up with a crazier idea-

An idea that stated that he has the consent to control you through the doll for when he’s gone for deployments and when he needs to go to the base

And what’s more insane is that he agreed.

So this crazy arrangement really ended up being a success

Whenever si went out he would take the doll with him, he would purposely use the doll to his advantage to tease you just slightly

The slight brush on your tits during your lecture?

That’s Simon

The sudden touches on your sensitive spots?

That’s Simon too

God he loved teasing you.

Especiallyyyy when you’re at home,

Telling you to wait and be a good girl till he comes back.

On one particular day,

He had been at the base all day to train the new recruits and you were at home and bored :(

Out of nowhere you felt a sudden caress and pinch on your nipples with your clit being rubbed in circles simultaneously.

It felt sooo good,

until it stopped.

You felt so frustrated.

You had to cum :((

So how could you not touch yourself :(

But before you could start you felt a restrain on your hands.

You couldn’t reach your hands further than your waist now

Just then you a got a message from Simon

An image of you, well mini you it’s hands tied around it’s waist

And a small text saying, “told you to wait princess, be a good girl f’ me”

That sly bastard

Really, visiting that store was a blessing curse in disguise.

But maybe giving Simon indirect control to your body wasn’t half as bad especially for those days when he felt generous :)

[cybsoo2]

my obsessive fan (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — After weeks of watching from afar, they finally have a chance to meet you for the first time.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!bts x idol!reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.9k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, stalker behavior, mention of manipulation, talk of religion, violent thoughts

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; hi!! i'm on vacation and don't have a lot of free time, so i'm sorry this took so long to write a 2nd part.

—Kim Seokjin

Ever since Jin set his sights on you, he knew he had to have you

No matter what anyone says, he knew deep in his heart that you were his and he was yours

It’s because of this reason that Jin started to build a certain type of entitlement towards you

His jealousy only grows every time he has to suffer through your interactions with anyone that isn’t him

Dark desires carve themselves deep into his chest

He takes control of your life from afar

Chasing away the cheap bitches and bastards that get too close

Spreading his sweet lies with easy eyes and a silver tongue

However, watching you from afar soon starts to summon a certain type of sadness

He weeps while watching his darling hold undesirables so dear to her heart

He grows tired of talking with your mutual friend, keeping up a facade that threatens to fall

And he takes out his torment on anyone around him until it almost tears his life apart

After all this waiting, he takes fate into his own hands and forces himself into your life

He sweet talks a friend who just happens to be your fellow member

Conversations too close for comfort, a few flirtatious remarks, and looking up at her through heavy-lidded eyes

Jin has always found it amusing how flattery and corrupt kisses have given him everything he’s always wanted

So when he mentions meeting you in passing, of course your member says yes

When the end of the week arises, he suddenly feels himself growing sick

Sweaty palms, cold shivers, and a set of nerves that burn deep into his brain

Despite his aching anxieties that ricochet in his head, he hides his fears behind black jeans and a dainty dress shirt

He walks the way to your dorm while drowning in sick thoughts

Desperate to disguise his sick self and make a memorable impression

This moment truly determines which direction your relationship will run

When he reaches the door to your dorm, he holds his breath before knocking two times

It only takes three seconds before you’re answering the door and dawning a soft smile on your face

Your excitement is contagious and he can’t help himself from letting a subtle grin slip

You two connect almost immediately

He lets you take the lead, only chiming in to agree with everything you say or complement you kindly

His quick wit and easy-going attitude keep the talk going for hours on end

He coats the conversation in his charms

Sweet talking until you settle into silence

Even when the conversation is cut quiet, your bodies talk calm and comfort

The clock strikes 12 and your day together has come to an end

Jin feels himself drifting into depression with every step towards the door he takes

His bones grow hard and heavy, falling into the floor right when he arrives home

30 minutes pass by and his pulse still skyrockets at the thought of your smile

He doesn’t need hope, he knows that you’ll never forget him

Your souls syncing into one almost instantly

It’s safe to say this isn’t the last time you’ll be seeing him

—Min Yoongi

These days, Yoongi has found himself drowning in the depths of a dull and depressing lifestyle

Unmotivated and uninspired, his lyrics hold no passion and his raps feel lost without rhythm

His weeks are blue and begin to blur together

Lost along his way, without purpose or passion to guide him

That is, until he met you

When you walked into his studio one Sunday morning, he felt something shift 

Rendered speechless, he stumbled over his sentences when coming to a deal with your manager

You were a new and unknown artist looking for a new lyricist

You had heard word of an underground rapper who wrote songs for those worth the time and effort

You chose him, you wanted him, and you needed him

A rushed agreement left his lips and a contract was signed with a scarlet signature

You passed the pen over to him, hand skimming across his

A shiver of affection ran rampant in his heart

After he signs, he pockets the pen for what he calls ‘sentimental value’

His eyes watched as you wandered the studio

Fingertips touching the keys of his piano, the papers plastered across his desk, and the hoodie he left hanging over his chair

A lovesick sensation shakes him to his core

He’s feeling feverish from you way you walk around his office as if it’s your own

You make yourself comfortable as your staff talks money and meetings

You sit in his seat, curious eyes wandering his way

When you gave him a simple smile he swore he’d been burned by the sun

His moment is ruined when your manager opened his mouth

Yoongi had begun to tune out most of his talking, but when he suggested you sing one of his songs to test out this team up, he jumped at the opportunity

You shut yourself in the sound booth and wait while Yoongi searches through his songs

He rummages for the lost lyrics

A love song is what he looks for, the perfect portrayal of what you mean to him

He finds the lyrics scattered across the floor

Dusting them off, he hands them over

You sing a hypnotic harmony, bringing justice to the lyrics that once looked so dull

Your meet eyes every minute, almost as if you want to say thank you

Trying to tell him with quick glances how much he means to you (how much this chance means to you) 

And in that moment, no one else mattered but you

That very day, you lit a fire inside him

Fueling his inspiration and feeding his inner romantic

From then on all his attention is on you

He dropped all his other degenerate clients

Closed the door in their faces and threatened to set fire to their careers if they ever disturbed him again

His lyrics became lovelorn

The characters in his songs so eerily alike to you and him

You’re his pure purpose in life; his passion and pleasure

His life does a full 180º, now rotating with you as the center

He needs you

And he’s happy that you need him just as much

—Jung Hoseok

Hoseok first met you through a rushed conversation in a crowd

Every since then his reality has been rapidly warped

It’s a fairytale still fresh in his mind

He can recount his raw emotions, your subtle smell of fragile flowers, and how the light hit you just perfectly, giving you a heavenly halo

You knelt down near the edge of the stage, out of breathe and taking a small break

Your eyes fluttered over the fans, a proud smile plastered on your face

Your breathe came out in short gasps, heart beating through your shirt, and sweat sliding off your body

Red rises to his cheeks just remembering the memory

He had his eyes locked on you, as they always are

The only new exception being the camera screen that captured the sight

Recently he had taken up the hobby as a way to earn a wage while not sacrificing the time spent on you

His fan page flourished all the mass of fans could feel his passion through the screen

One night, as he almost fell asleep to the sound of your soothing voice, you said his name!

You said his name, spoke it like a silver string tumbled off your tongue

Whispered the word like lyrics leaving your lips

His hands started to shake and his heart suddenly stopped

You then went on to talk about his fan page and how much attention you where getting because of the viral videos

That memory is a distant sense of deja vu as now you beckon him closer with a wave of your hand

You draw him in through the dense crowd, an invisible string tied around your finger

“Hey! It’s Hobi right?”

Hoseok nods his head hesitantly, almost unsure whether this is a dream or not

“I thought I recognized you, you run one of my fan pages don’t you? I’m flattered really, that you take all the time just to support me. Here,”

You pull out a red rose from the bouquet 

It’s a pretty present from your first win with a new song

You take the rose and hold it out to him, tilting it up so he can smell

He inhales the fragrant flower, but all he can smell is the surviving scent of your perfume

It’s something sweet, just like you, with notes of floral and fruit

He takes the flower between two fingers, running the tips of his touch over the stem, trying to tell if it’s real

You let out a laugh at his awe-struck appearance and tell him, “Be careful or you’ll cut yourself on the thorns.”

You show care by caution, a subtle sign the you feel something for him

And this red rose is a perfect representation of your relationship

You hide off to the side, away from the rest of your group that sings the encore

Sitting under the shadows you give him a show of your affection, then leave before anyone else can catch on

Hoseok understands your intentions, but he also knows that because of your job he can’t be with you

So he’ll continue to support you from the sidelines, only surviving on a sliver of your love and the hope to one day have you as his own

—Kim Namjoon

The fall day is fleeting

Snow threatens to suffocate the dying daffodils

It tumbles down from the tips of the mountain top, casting it’s cold nights and dreadful days over anything that still clings to color

The summer solstice is long since passed, and along with it goes his hopes and happiness

Namjoon finds himself still hanging on to the hot embers and raw embrace of his last relationship

He’s lost along the path, pleading with the gods and guardians to give him one last chance

He’s taken to a temple, high up in the mountains where sorrow cannot escape his sight

Namjoon cannot help but feel as if his god has lead him astray

Taken through twisting turmoil and tortured relationships

The dawn of a new December draws near

It’s cruel and cold, leaving Namjoon to linger on what his life used to be

His grasp on his guide is slipping

Religion runs rampant along the trail

Faith falling out of his hands if this last resort doesn’t give him some sort of sign

The temple is now near

Faceless people peer into the wishing well

He’s focused on only one thing, pushing through the crowd to meet his final moment

The do or die, a deciding factor on which way his life will lead him

He crawls up closer, hand held out with an offering

He’s just about to say his prayer and send off his present, when he collides into someone and the coin is falling through the cracks in the concrete

For a second, everything is silent

His heart hammers in his chest, heartbroken over the harrowing result of the test

He comes to the conclusion that his faith has failed him

Dragging him down deep through the mud and making his life a living hell

His god has gone and abandoned him… but a velvety voice breaks through his disbelief

He looks up and shining down on him is your sweet smile

Perhaps he hasn’t been abandoned, just lead to a new beginning

Yes, this is a sign, he’s so sure of it

You apologize for bumping into him like the angel you are

You take his two hands and help him up from where he’s fallen

Namjoon nods along to whatever you say, watching as you ramble off in embarrassment

He’s too shocked to be graced by a goddess to form a fragment of a thought

And just when his tongue is untied and thoughts untangled, you leave just as quickly as you came

The word ‘wait’ tumbles off his tongue, falling flat at his feet and off into oblivion

He sees your shadow walking off into the woods

You creep into the crowd, your figure floating further away from him

A fraying string of fate attaches you two

He feels compelled to to find you, to follow you, and never let you go

You’re a gracious god, guiding the way and giving him hope

He’ll worship you until ticking time wastes him away

—Park Jimin

He can’t contain his fiery fury

Jimin is a slave to sin and submits so easily to anger

He’s wrapped up in wrath

Biting down on his tongue, the pressure too much that blood begins to pool

Yet the pain serves as a desperate distraction

Such a pathetic thought to think that a single soul can cause this much distress

But that’s the truth, because just the sight of the bitch sets his heart ablaze

She sits in front of you, leaning forward to show off her scorpion smile

Licking her lips and teasing the thought of a killer kiss

She flirts shamelessly, as if she actually has a chance

Jimin knows you like sweet things, unlike the toxic slut that slides her high heels up your thigh

You’ve said it before, 3 months ago in a live, you like someone with innocent intentions

Jimin is torn into two people

On one hand, he wants to beat the bitch bloody until she can’t breathe

On the other, he knows he’ll make a scene and scare away any chance of your affection

He’s knows his best bet, so he swallows down his disgust and puts on a paper smile

Jimin’s turn is coming up next and he collects his items

His bank account now bare as he spend everything he had on albums, merchandise, and fan-meets

Photocards and poster papers are delicate in his hold

Sweat staining the edges as a wave of anxiety rushes over him

He counts down the seconds, wishing for time to turn faster

He traces the tips of his fingers over the image of you, imagining what it would be like if it were reality

Your fair features and the pain pulsing in his jaw are all to divert his attention from the scene going on at his side

The girl is finally getting up to go, but not before writing down her number in a pitiful attempt to be your plaything

His angry eyes are set on her silhouette

Finding her flaws and trying to shot through her head with his stare

His jealousy is a dangerous thing, a driving force that’ll ruin his life if he isn’t careful

So distracted from his fury, he surprised to hear your voice force itself into the silence

“Are you okay?”

Blood drips down his lips

He tore them up with his teeth, trying to bite back his spite and keep some self-control

He immediately apologizes, as if it’s something to be sorry about

Next thing you know he’s thrusting his papers in your hands and hoping you don’t hate him

The day is barely past 12 but already it’s ruined been by red

You try to sneak subtle glances his way and give him looks of concern, confusion, disgust, despair?

Your many masks are blurred together till’ he can’t decide if you’re upset or unaffected

These frowning faces fight against him

Tearing up his insides and taunting him with voices that say, “You messed everything up. She can’t stand the sight of you. You can’t keep it together.”

Imitate insecurities are transformed into truth

Jimin sees your face and that upside down smile, and he’s running away from the invisible issue

He gets up so fast, the chair falling to the floor with a metal clank

He doesn’t bother grabbing any of his albums

Rushing out the door with his eyes running red and tears trailing off behind him

Jimin is growing weary and worn down by the second person in his skin

Sunk deep into the dawn and smothered in sin

He’s tired of his twin always ruining his chances and wrecking his relationship with you

But Jimin is so stubborn and would do anything it takes to make you smile, even if it ends up killing him

—Kim Taehyung

Taehyung’s first time meeting you was anything but an accident

He knows wherever you are, from the time when the sun meets the mountains, to when the sky is suffocated in darkness

Lately, he’s been growing rather restless and irrational

An ache sets fire to his soul

Suffocating on the smell of your smoke he can’t seem to catch

His passion pains him, and he’s plagued with dreams of your distant touch

You’re so close yet so far

He makes up his mind on a moonlit morning

Months of walking in your faded footprints, he’s your silent shadow

Your schedule is now imprinted in his mind

He plans out the perfect day

He’ll come into the cafe you frequent, cause some chaos, and when he has your attention, he’ll cherish the moment

The autumn day arrives and he hides away

Standing up against the wall at the back of the cafe, he has a perfect view of anyone that dares walk through the door

He’s hasty and impatient

Constantly checking his watch and looking back up at the door

His hold tightens on his hot tea, heat transferring and burning into his blood

He checks his watch once more, but this time when he looks up, he hears bells ringing

He makes a double-take and his feet are flying before he can think twice

Taehyung comes crashing into you, spilling his tea and staining your shirt

He rushes apologies already rehearsed

He takes your hands in his and wipes off the mess with a rag already prepared in his pocket

Once your skin is no longer stained, only stinging with the past pain, he passes you the rag so you can clean off your shirt

Taehyung offers to order you another coffee, his treat because of the mess he made

Clueless and lovelorn, Taehyung takes your order without asking you what you wanted

Your order is taken down to a tee

When you ask how he knew what you liked, he said it was an impossible accident

The unlikely lie slipped out before he had time to think

Tripping up over your accusatory eyes and confused question

Perhaps Taehyung isn’t meant to stick to your side

Better off stalking in your shadow and reminiscing on the remains 

He’s too naive and boyishly bold

Although he may know this truth deep down in his heart, he’s unable to act within reason

He has an ideal image of love

An image that lingering in his head ever since he was a child

You’re his only dear darling and he’ll just have to persuade you with his passion

No matter how much time it takes, no matter how often he fails

He’s a restless romantic and he can’t help it

—Jeon Jungkook

A rush of adrenaline and affection runs red like blood in his body

Your performance was perfect!

And he can’t believe he saw your sweet smile from just behind the barricade

He watched you glide with grace across the stage, grabbing the audience’s attention with just one look

But when your eyes locked, he felt as if you two were only ones in the room

You’ve enchanted him, intertwining your souls into two

He feels himself following your every move, reaching out to run his hand over yours when you handed out high-fives

His skin burns red with a blush

Blistering blood pumping hot to his head

His whole face is on fire and he feels as if he might faint

If this is the state just your skim of skin has struck upon him, he doesn’t know how he’ll handle meeting you in person

He’d spent all last night restless and rummaging around in his head for anything else forgotten

He planned and prepared for months in advance, after all, the first meeting is when memories are made

He spoke his script into the mirror, stumbling over words and stressing over sentences

He ripped up and rewrote his conscripted confession three thousand times over

It needed to be perfect

Now, as the crowd creeps off into the night, he mumbles over his love letter

The minutes melt away while waiting for those in line to leave

Now he’s the next one to meet his muse

He stumbles to sit in the silver chair and looks up to lock eyes

All his words are washed away when your attention is on him

The page concluding pure passion and perfectly written words is now crumpled in his hands

His knuckles whitening, attempting to get a grasp and spit out the words he wants to speak

You ask him how he is, how far he traveled for the concert, is he okay?... Why isn’t he talking?

He sits in silence, brain burning up and and a blush coating his cheeks

The hole in his head keeps him from forming a thought

It’s only when you’re signing his album and the meeting has almost met its end, when his heartfelt words begin flowing from his mouth

“I love you.”

The confession is quiet at first, hesitant as he waits for your response

“I love you too! I appreciate all of my fans so much. Thanks for coming to the concert.”

You say a simple response, rehearsed a thousand times but for a different reason

Forced to respond to any request and comply with the compliments

You look at him like a fan, like one of the thousands of faceless people that came before him

Don’t you understand? This isn’t some type of friendship or fleeting crush

He can’t sleep when you’re sick, can’t function when you’re frowning, and can’t live if he can’t love you

He’s bound by your side till time takes his heart

He’s a slave to your sweet smile and the whispered words that make his knees weak

Jungkook is more than just a lovesick man, he’s pierced by passion and won’t let you leave

A simple saying isn’t enough, he needs to show you how his heart beats and breaks only for you

“You’re not understanding. I love you.”

He leans over the table and takes your hand in his

You tense under his towering figure, yet Jungkook is too immersed in his speech to tell

“You’re everything to me. The reason worth living. I love you, I love you so much-”

His words become warped as he grows erratic

His rehearsed confession is now corrupted, growing messy and mushed together

He’s eager to get out the words before anyone else can interrupt

“I’d do anything for you. I don’t care if you hate me or hurt me, just let me love you.”

The security guards are scrambling to send him away, but it takes the strength of ten men to pry his hands from yours and pull him off the table

As they drag him away and the steel doors shut, you still hear his voice ringing out with all the reasons he love you

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟭𝟬: 𝘆𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗼𝗱𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗮𝗯-𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝗳𝗿𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗲

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your mental state is suffering–you’re not sure if you can handle alphatauri posting another thirst trap of your boyfriend to disguise their inability to build a car that doesn’t break within the first ten laps. but, when yuki posts his own half-naked picture on main? he’s asking for it, at this point. clearly, he’s been spending too much time with pierre. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. ab-riding. pierre gasly is his own warning. no penetrative sex. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: yuki tsunoda x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: drabble. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best friend • saweetie ft. doja cat

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: this is actually the dirtiest fic, in theory yk. yuki has my heart, and i'm single handedly going to fill tumblr with my posts about him, thank you, good night.

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cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

you can’t stand his smug ass smirk. he knows damn well how you feel about his thirst traps. sure, alphatauri milks any chance of plastering yuki across their social media page to fail at distracting fans from the fact that their the slowest car on the grid, and that they can’t build a car that doesn’t fall apart like legos. but, yuki, posting practically-naked (he’s only shirtless, so really you’re mildly exaggerating) pictures on his main instagram page?? he’s not george-fucking-russell, so, why the hell would he do that?

there’s only two answers to this question, and they’re both correct. one, pierre gasly—the french bastard. you can’t leave them together unsupervised. and two, to make you mad. 9which you very much are, so, yuki achieved what he wanted. he’s especially thrilled, when you shove him down onto your bed, and straddle his lap, angrily tugging his shirt off. yuki grins up at you, satisfied at where a simple shirtless picture lead him to. he should listen to pierre more often, his ex-teammate might have good ideas, however rare they are. once his shirt is off, you freeze, breathing heavily as you drink in the sight of his torso. you lean forward and start sucking marks into his pecs, biting into the meat of his chest, and tracing the definition of his abs with your tongue. yuki’s moans rumble in his chest, and he lets his eyes flutter shut and basks under the thorough claim you’re leaving on his body. at least you’re kind enough to avoid placing any marks high enough to where they could be seen from the neck of a shirt—alphatauri will just have to post pre-filmed videos they have in the vault while your hickeys fade, they’ll survive.

you erratically jerk away again, and strip your bottoms off, shoving your underwear down and tossing them behind you. you tug your shirt up until it bunches under your armpits, and you drag the cups of your bra underneath your chest, causing them to spill over the top obscenely. roughly grabbing at your boyfriend’s hands, you direct them to grasp at your boobs, and command, “keep your abs flexed.” yuki makes a noise of confusion, but you don’t elaborate any further. you lower yourself to sit on his abdomen, and grind across him slowly, testing the waters. your head falls forward from the zing of pleasure that races up your spine, and you quickly start rabbiting your hips across the dips and ridges of his muscles. 

yuki is rendered speechless at your motions. he was expecting you to ride his dick, not his abs. he’s not going to complain about this, though. you’re rubbing yourself off on his torso—your moans are bitten off and rough, and your grinds are deep and forceful to make sure your clit catches on every sharp edge of his abdomen. it’s the dirtiest thing yuki’s ever seen you do, usually he’s the one being unhinged. he squeezes at your chest rhythmically, dropping his hands to your chest eventually to watch how your breasts bounce at every shift you make—he sighs contentedly, this is heaven. 

he brings one hand to reach around you and palm himself over his shorts, but is denied the chance to do so. you hiss at him meanly, and pull his hand back to your waist, eyes flashing at him in warning. yuki falters under the commanding glint of your gaze, maybe he pushed you too far this time. he adjusts his grip on your body and takes some of the load off you, and guides your hips against his body for you—he could feel your thighs begin to tremble in exhaustion and based on how deadest you’ve become on getting yourself off on his abs, he doesn’t want to feel any additional wrath when your release slips from your grasp. 

a squeal of relief rattles through your chest at how yuki does the hard work for you. he moves your body exactly how you crave, and you find it incredibly difficult to remember why you were mad in the first place. instead of your thighs shaking in tiredness—you’re thankfully not used to being the one putting all the work in, your boyfriend’s stamina is appreciated—they begin to quiver as you get closer to cumming. your own hand comes to tug at your nipples, looking for any last flare of pleasure to push you over the edge. the wetness you’ve spread across his abs has started to lessen the friction you feel against your cunt. yuki sees the frustration furrowing your brow, and shifts his right hand down over your navel so his thumb can rub at your clit. you gasp, throwing your head back at white-hot burst of contentment behind your eyes, and all it takes is a few more furious passes of yuki’s fingers on your cunt, as the coil snaps inside your core, and waves of bliss crash over you.

yuki slips his hand away, and guides you to ride out the aftershocks on his abs. he moans at the sight of pure satisfaction on your face, and how you’ve soaked his torso, reminding him what belongs to you, with no room for vagueness. you eventually slow your roll, and fall to the side off yuki. the two of you pant as you stare at the ceiling, allowing the rapid beats of your hearts to slow.

you tilt your head to face him, and smile dopily at the sight of yuki staring at his navel. you’ve drenched him with your release, and it glistens beautifully on his tanned skin. if you were truly unhinged, you’d take a picture with your hand rubbing your wetness across his skin, and post it for everyone to see. the contrasting shades of your skin under the light of golden hour would look perfect. it would probably cost your boyfriend’s career, so maybe that’s not an equal exchange. 

hummingly faintly, you stumble off 9ithe bed, legs still shaking as you walk towards the bathroom. “you can get yourself off. you’re not fucking me for a week—“ yuki makes an alarmed noise, sputtering in disbelief, struggling to find his words, “oh, don’t get mouthy with me. i could make it so you never fuck me again—i just gave you enough material to last you for that long.” you slam the bathroom door shut, and yuki’s mouth hangs open in shock. fuck, pierre. he’s never listening to his suggestions ever again.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

© httpsserene 2023

[pigeonpeach]

Forced proximity

Prompt: forced to take shelter together from various environmental hazards, how will they handle being so close to you?

Characters: Shenhe, Diluc, Chevreuse, Dehya, Kaeya, Zhongli

Chevreuse

“My musket is waterproof, so we won’t be stopped with the rain.” She said as you ran with her to find shelter. You two had been trying to set up a trap for local criminals using you, a newbie as bait with her in the shadows. Normally you would be against this but you had actually used this before and you didn’t end up with even a scratch from it. As long as Chevreuse was the one you were working with, it was fine.

“I’m more worried about the hypothermia personally.” You complained. Your dainty dress was by no means waterproof. Infact it acted like a sponge, you would be warmer snuggling with cryo slimes than in this getup.

“Over there! There’s a ship wreck, that could offer some shelter if we’re lucky.” She said. The shipwreck seemed recent, probably from the flood of fontaine which displaced many. It seemed this one was relatively in good condition, rust only starting to form on its metal exterior. You ran in with her as you two quickly sought to remove your wet exterior clothes. “We’ll have to remove your dress, sorry if that’s uncomfortable but its just too drenched.” You were a bit surprised but understood.

“Yes I know, just give me sometime.” You said. It wasn’t easy but you knew it had to be done. What made it more difficult was how it clung to you. Hiding behind a broken wall, you undressed to your underwear. You looked to see if she was watching but she had her back turned, trying to get a fire started. You began to squeeze the water out, trying to not get it on you in the process. Next time you should ask for a jacket when she approaches you with the disguise.

“Are you done yet.”

“Almost.. there’s alot of water in this.” You groaned. You noticed she had successfully started a fire. Making sure to isolate it from any flammable objects. You were so cold at that point you just draped your wet dress over your self and sat a bit away from her.

“that bad huh. I’ll just keep my eyes elsewhere then.” She said. “I didn’t think it’d rain today, especially considering how warm it was a second ago.”

“That dastardly hydro dragon. Someone should give them emotional support animal at this rate.” you cursed under your breath.

“It’s probably that one ongoing trial with the serial killer. He’s go a bastard of a lawyer who’s really good at loopholes. Supposedly the final trial is today.”

“They’re not letting that pyscho back out surely?!” You jolted.

“Relax, all it takes is one slip up and he’s got no defense then. Besides, Neuvillette will definitely not let him go if he still considers him guilty.”

“You’re right but considering I fit the bill for his primary victims i can’t exactly sleep soundly until his head is off or he’s imprisoned! I wish Furina was still in the courts, she would’ve never let that man get this far.”

“I’m sure she has her own reasons, but considering how much help you’ve been I’m not going to let you go unguarded. I’ll schedule patrols by your district more and by your areas.”

“You would do that for me? I’m impressed. I didn’t know I did such a good job at being a damsel for hire.” You snickered.

“I mean it. Oh and by the way, your clothes look dry now.” She said. You almost forgot about that.

“Oh, give me a second.”you went back behind your wall to redress yourself, this time leaving the hoop skirt out of it.

“If you’re still cold we should huddle together. That way we can share body heat.” She said as you approached her once more. “My body is warmer than usual because of my vision after all”

“I’ll take you up on that offer then.” You smiled sitting much closer to her than she might’ve expected. “Do you mind a bit of cuddling?”

“With you? No.” She said, her arm wrapped around you almost on instinct. “You’re a bit more special than other people to me.”

“Do you tell that to every damsel you hire?” You tease.

“Oh god of course not! What do you think I am?” She cackled. “You make it sound like you’re some.. prostitute!”

“I am selling my body technically.” You added, jokingly, your head resting on her shoulders almost by instinct.

“Why did you take up that offer anyways? You have a good job, enough to live on the surface anyways.”

“Because I wanted to get stuck in the rain with you obviously! But in seriousness.. i uhh.. had a loan i had to pay and i spent a good majority on my paycheck already. So i needed fast cash and i saw the paper and i took it.” You explained.

“Huh, you sure you weren’t trying to hit on me? Because you were eyeing me during that little training session.” She adds.

“If that’s what you would like it be then yes I was hitting on you.” You said, your eyes trailed to her cheeks to catch a glimpse of her blushing face.

“Hm… I guess you were then.. lets get some rest.. the rain should let up by then.”

You couldn’t help feeling delightful that you finally broke her cold exterior. And with your body so close to hers, you truly felt victorious.

Diluc

“There. Its not much but it should offer some shelter in the meantime.” He said pointing to a old caravan. The roof of it was intact. You two quickly hid under there. Quickly finding your bodies pressed against each other.

“S-sorry.. i can’t move over any more.” You said nervously. But In reality, you didn’t want to move from his warm body at all. It felt like laying on a warm patch of sunlight.

“Its fine. I’ve been told I’m warm enough already. Here.” He took off his jacket, wrapping it across you.

“Thank you… and thank you for saving me from those hilichurls earlier too.” Your heart was racing, it sounded like his was too.

“Its nothing. Those knights, they were supposed to clear the area for merchants.” He scowled.

“Well, it was my fault for making the delivery without a jacket. I should’ve taken Sara’s advice and gone the long way. Its a good thing I still have it.” You managed to pull out the food in question, it was just a simple chicken skewers.

“I suppose you won’t be able to deliver it now, there’s no harm in having it if you’re hungry.” He said. But you offered it to him.

“Have one, you must be hungry. I can’t imagine its easy wielding a claymore on a empty stomach.. besides, there’s already one for myself”

“Why did they order chicken skewers, its the most simple dish to make?” He said almost judge-mentally.

“Well its a special one, we used a marinade for the chicken, try it.” You again offered it to him. He took it. You watched his eyes light up. “Good right? It would be better if it was warm.”

“I’m sure could try it while stopping by.”

“That sounds nice… you’re really warm by the way..” you blurt out. He looks surprised.

“I hope so. Are you warm too?” He asked. You nod.

“We should wait out the storm. I’m sure it shouldn’t be too long.” He said, you realized his face has been red this whole time.

“Although.. My winery isn’t too far from here.. but you said your foot hurt right?”

“I did earlier yes. I might’ve sprained it.” You sigh. “It feels fine now.”

“Hmm… that’s no good. Lets wait until it lightens up then. I can’t risk you injuring yourself further now.”

“I-if you want you could go ahead. It might be better so you’re not stuck out here too.” You say. He seems upset at the idea.

“Absolutely not. You could freeze to death. Lets stay here where I can keep you safe.” His words stuck out to you. Is it possible that he meant that in a more romantic context? Are you just overthinking it?

“I-I’m getting rather tired though.. I almost just want to sleep..” you said. Your eyelids felt a bit heavy, he was just… so warm, his body pressed up against you.. his arms around you… you hoped you would feel this again.

“I’ll keep watch. Just rest a little bit.” He said. As you drifted off to sleep you noticed a light kiss on your head.

“Cute.” He mumbled to himself.

Dehya

“Ugh! I’m so sick of the sand.” You and Dehya were taking shelter inside a cave, you were a professor at the Akademiya, you came out to the desert to study the giant ruin machines so you could do a lesson on them only to get caught in a sandstorm. Lucky for you, Dehya who you had hired, was well versed in the desert.

“Well that’s what you get. Lucky that you hired me, I’m certain you would have never found this cave.” She grinned proudly.

“I’m certain i’d be dead with that stupid wenut poking around. Ugh, what do those things even eat?!” You shook your clothes to get the sand out.

“Idk I’m not the scholar here so.” Dehya grinned.

“Hey my expertise is in machinery.. not oversized worms with no business of existing!” You fussed over your hair, to your shame, it hadn’t survived well. The hair tie you wore must’ve broken while you were busy trying to block the sand out of your eyes. “Ugh.. so much sand in my hair too… this is so unbecoming of me.”

“Unbecoming? You’re a scholar not a model.” Dehya said.

“Thanks.” You said sarcastically. “But I need to look professional and well put together. I’m not the prettiest sure but I should at least look like I am a scholar and not some rat drowing in sand!” You found your hair had also knotted together in what you horrifically realized was a huge mess. Not even your hairbrush could save you.. “oh god…” you winced as you got your hairbrush out, it felt painful to brush it out.

“Yikes.. let me help you there.” Dehya said. You turned to her.

“How is your hair fine!” You felt ashamed.

“I dunno, I wasn’t trying to fight the wind back there, but its really not that bad. Here just sit infront of me and I’ll help.”

“Well.. i guess you’re the expert on desert stuff.. do you encounter this problem alot?” You asked, obliging by her request.

“Oh definitely. Alot of eremite gals use praids or tie their hair up in some way. I could put yours in one if you like?”

“If any of it is salvageable that would be nice. You’re actually rather smart yourself.. you would do well in the ak-“

“Nope.”

“Why? I’m not trying to insult your job, especially right now, but I really think you could do alot more in your life!”

“Then who would you hire for all your little adventures then?” She said.

“Well.. there’s dozens of eremites, i could find another. I just think you have potential that you can’t explore in this position.” You sighed.

“I know you mean well but honestly I like it. There’s no way I’d give up the thrill of adventure and fighting for studying some stupid class like.. calculus.” Her voice carried a confidence you envied. But you noticed her hands were quite skilled, you didn’t feel any pain as she brushed out your knots.

“I’ll give you that, math isn’t the most interesting. But even just like reading some books might do you good! I’m not asking you to become my student I just think maybe investing in a library card could be useful!” You felt at ease strangely. You had been a regular of Dehya’s. Mostly because she was the most trustworthy by review, and also she was a woman. You didn’t exactly want to travel alone with just a man you didn’t know. And also she was rather pretty to look at.

“That is actually a interesting suggestion. I might take you up on that sometime.” She smiled. “Say, how come you always pick me? I heard from the other Eremites that you even canceled a whole trip you had planned because I wasn’t available.”

“W-well..” you blushed. “I just trust you the most. These conditions aren’t exactly easy for me and I’d rather traverse dangerous terrain with someone I trust and someone I know. Besides it gives me the opportunity to not rely on my colleagues’ decisions. I’m not as social as you might think.”

“You sure that’s it? You’re willing to sacrifice papers and lessons just because you don’t trust the other eremites? You know we didn’t start off besties here, what made you pick me in the first place? And it not like its just because I’m a girl, there’s plenty of female eremites out there well versed in combat like myself. I could recommend them to you.”

“I- just.. have a preference for you. Nothing wrong about that is there? Its more mora in your pocket so why should you care?” You pouted. She chuckled behind you.

“Easy now. I didn’t mean to sound like I was complaining. Its nice seeing how loyal you are to me.” You just feel her cocky smirk from behind. But your ego was quickly forgotten as she finished brushing out your knots, now starting to braid them. “If it does any good, you are my favorite customer. That and the traveler but its not like they hire me or anything. I’ve rather enjoyed our adventures. Maybe you should join the eremites~”

“Absolutely not! If i could handle it on my own then i would. Y-you do realize that- oh.. I see what you’re doing.” You sigh.

“See, its not fun when people question your career choices. Much less trying to push their own onto you. This is my dream job, I don’t need to take a class to perfect it.”

“Well to be honest I just would like to see you more that’s all.” You blurted out. Dehya realized you had been blushing this whole time. She seemed a bit surprised. “Those other scholars at the Akademiya are most old geezers with flies in their head reiterating the same sentiments with little flexibility. I much rather talk to you even if you don’t understand those concepts. I just… like to be around you that’s all.”

“Woah. That makes scholarly life alot less appealing you know?”

“I’m not trying to recruit you here! I just.. wanted a excuse to see you around more.” Silence fell between you two. You worried if you had been too open then, letting her know how you felt… “Y-you know there’s talk from Faruzan about opening a school or class in the desert. I think you could help with that.”

“That’s actually rather interesting. Whats her plan?”

“Oh just literacy. Its so they can read more complex topics. Oh and Kaveh was working on a library for the Aaru village too. I wanted to ask what books you think would appeal to the desert kids?” You added.

“Maybe if you have some textbooks that’d be easy or-“

“I mean like fiction. What did you want to learn about as a kid?” You said looking at her. You were a bit surprised to see such a fond look in her eyes. It made your heart thump ad your confidence wavered.

“Well.. I wanted to- hey.. the storms over.” Dehya said looking out at the entrance. You almost forgot about the storm.

“Oh.. maybe we should spend the night here just in case.” You said.

“You just want to keep talking don’t you.” Dehya smiled.

“Well yes. But also my feet are killing me still.”

Shenhe

“Its getting cold out, we need to seek shelter immediately.” Shenhe said. But it was only a light downpour. You felt a little whimsical.

“Oh its such a pretty sight. Rain in the snow.. oh I love it.” You quickly got out your camera to take a few photos. “There will be more icicles soon. Ooh it would make fo such a go- OH?” You quickly were picked up by Shenhe as she located a nearby hilichurl camp.

“Wait but what about- wait why is it empty.” You noted how old it looked. Dust collecting, various masks strewn about, broken. Shenhe set you down letting you looked around.

“I use this camp as my training grounds. Unfortunately they stopped trying to claim this area. But we should be aboe to take shelter in here.” She said. You were surprised by how nice it looked. Hay bedding, animal skins. You could easily make a bed with this. The roof did leak but it would do.

“I still think we could find somewhere better. The rain isn’t so ba-“ you were startled back into her arms as lightning struck not too far away. “Okay lets go inside..” you started to bunch up the hay together into a nest almost. Shenhe watched with curiosity.

“What is that for?” She asked.

“I’m making a bed. You can join if you would like. Its good to keep warm.” You said, bringing the animal skins to use as blankets. She joined you as you two cuddled in the makeshift bed.

“It is quite warm actually. You’ve done well.” Shenhe’s praise had you beaming with pride.

“Ah thank you… you don’t have to be so close you know?” You said.

“Do you want me to move away?” She seemed confused.

“Actually its fine. I don’t mind it.” You said.

“I’m getting rather tired.. you’re quite warm actually.” Shenhe pulled you in closer catching you off guard.

“O-oh. That’s good. I think we can take a rest. So long as No hilicurls come by.”

“They won’t. I laid out those masks to warn them not to come back. Its been months since any have returned.” She mumbled. “I should move them then. They make for good practice.”

“Lets not talk about murdering hilichurls right now please?” You asked.

“Right… so.. do you sleep outside often? You seem to know what to do.”

“No but I know that the barn cats use the hay in my family’s cellar for their bedding. I figured it must be comfortable.”

“You were right. This is quite nice.. I can imagine this bed would make many cat’s comfortable.” She said. You smiled at her imagination.

“Thank you.. I think… i may rest my eyes for a bit.. the sound of the rain outside is luring me to sleep, but im still nervous.”

“I’ll keep watch then. You get some rest.” She said. You smiled resting your head on her chest.

Zhongli

You were traveling with Zhongli, a funeral consultant on your way to Chenyu valley. But you two ran into a problem…

“I didn’t know it could rain like that here!” You felt spooked as you clung to the much taller male. “I just hope it doesn’t start to thunder ei-“ on cue lighting struck the bridge right infront of you.

“Lets find shelter then. Stay close to me. We don’t want to get separated here of all places.” His eyes scanning across the landscape. He spotted a cave and immediately pointed. “There. We should find some shelter there.”

You two quickly retreated into the cave, you silently thanked rex lapis that caves were abundant in this area.

“Lucky for us, there isn’t anyone else here.” He said as you two came in deeper. Finding it empty and relatively dry.

“I-its a shame we can’t make a fire. There isn’t any wood in here..” you lament. “I’m cold.”

“There seems to be a bit of a coal deposit here actually.” He said, poking at what just looked like a splot on the wall. “Here, I’ll retrieve it.” Using his Geo abilities he was able to crack some out of the wall. Putting it in s pile as you watched with fascination.

“You’re very well versed in rocks for a funeral director. Is it your geo vision or just your knowledge.” You asked.

“A mix of both, I’m quite well versed in the topic yes, but my vision does help.” He said. “Now we can use two rocks to make a spark.. we should be careful as coal leaves alot of smoke.” You took two stones and rubbed them against each other, looking to make a spark. It worked and a small flame started to grow.

“Excellent. We’ll stay here until the weather dies down.” You said, instinctively sitting next to him, leaning on him. He seemed a bit surprised. “O-oh sorry i didn’t mean to-“

“Oh it’s quite alright. It might help to cuddle for warmth. I hope you don’t mind.” He said politely.

“I-i don’t mind.” You said. His hand wrapped around you, not too tight but not to loose either. It felt rather nice like this. Your cheeks were tinted with red as he pressed himself against you.

“Are you comfortable right now?” He asked. You nodded. Maybe you should consider traveling with him a little more.

Kaeya

“You do know you’ll need more firewood than that.” Kaeya teased as you attempted to start a fire. You sighed.

“Then get some. Don’t just sit here and look pretty.” You grumbled as you rubbed the sticks together. He chuckled.

“Right right. And it was you who insisted they didn’t need a second jacket.” He smiled, you wore his cloak as he had offered it earlier.

“Well I didn’t expect us to stay the night here.”

“You should know a trip to dragonspine isn’t a one day venture. But with that out of the way, I’ll get some firewood.” He said leaving briefly. Just as he left you got the fire going. You smiled.

“See! I told you i could- oh right.” You said. Feeling his absence quickly. You huddled by the fire as you waited for him to come back.

It felt like he was gone forever when he finally came back. Arms full of firewood.

“Miss me?” He said as he noticed the frozen tears on your cheeks.

“No.. just come over here… you’re probably cold..” you said. Patting the ground besides you.

“Oh now you want to cuddle.” He smiled as he took your offer. Setting the firewood aside.

“You scared me you know..” you said.

“Well I just wanted to gather as much wood as possible. That way we can make it through the blizzard. These blizzards can last very long you know?” He snickered as you jolted.

“Don’t scare me like that!” You grumbled.

“I’m not trying to scare you. Just preparing you for the worst. Don’t worry, we have plenty of rations. And this fire is quite strong. You did a good job.” He smiled drawing his hand across your shoulder.

“Thanks..”you grumbled. You scooted closer to him as you felt a chill run down your spine. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy like this. But you do realize we still haven’t made it halfway to Albedo’s office right?” He said. You stared at him with a look of defeat.

“Ugh! I’m never going to make it!” You whined.

“Oh you’ll live.” He chuckled. “I’m here afterall. I’ll drag you up that mountain if I have to.”

“Well… I guess its good I have you then. I’d probably be dead by now if I went by myself.”

“Oh please, Jean would never send a new night here alone. But your gratitude is appreciated.” He smiled.

[bruciemilf]

Hii!

I was wondering if you had any n.sfw type of headcanons for Harvey vs Two Face when they're being intimate? 🤭

Because of the Jason Dent AU fic, part of me thinks TwoFace might be a pillow princess for Matches 😅

I mean, I try to assume couples are versatile but was also curious if you felt either would be more or less likely to enjoy something over the other. Or if they'd be pretty much the same in their wants/desires. Hope this makes sense!

Really like your blog. Your post with Batfam Twitter about Harvey breaking out of Arkham to take Bruce out on dates is part of what got me into them 😍🥹

HOOOO. NSFW ahead!!! Minors don’t interact, please and thank you!!

—

I’m so goddam thirsty for this man. No, — it’s unhealthy. I’m like a feral Resident Evil nightmare that escaped confinement and I’m in need of emergency euthanasia.

In my heart I can’t imagine Harvey or TF bottoming. But it also really depends on!! I could maybe see Harvey, whimpering like a goddam mess, Bruce bounces on his dick like a fucking horny rabbit, and TF snarling, “Fuckin’ wimp.” (He loves it)

One thing’s for sure thought; These mfs are So Nasty.

Two-Face is big on degradation; Bruce’s pleasure is extremely important for him, and while he prioritizes his baby doll getting the best treatment possible, you can catch him shoving Batman on his knees anytime, anywhere.

“C’mon, sweet boy. Use that smart ass mouth for something useful. “

And Bruce can’t ever say no 😔 He has them memorized down to the veins

Also you bet Harvey’s hung as hell. 10 inches. Bruce has higher chances of ending up in the ER after fucking than fighting.

DADDY KINK DADDY KINK DADDY KINK DADDY KINK DADDY KINK DADDY KINK DADDY-

I just know for a fact Two-Face always has Bruce on his lap when he’s playing poker.

Either when Bruce is disguised, or just normal. Besides, Brucie Wayne is basically Harvey’s glorified blow up doll. So what if he’s around the room while talking essential business? So what if he’s witness to it?

Black Mask makes that comment exactly once and Harvey paints his brass knuckles red <333 “Tsk. Fucker got blood on my watch.”

God help you if Bruce wears red lipstick around this bastard. They’ll make out so messily. Everywhere. At any time. Cause Harvey’s not stopping until Bruce begs him to let him breathe.

SCAR WORSHIP.

MUTUAL

SCAR WORSHIP

Harvey will call Bruce princes while fucking him doggy style, his belt tightly snaked around his neck. He makes the prettiest noises, punched out moans and tiny little gasps. “Ah, heh— you came? Again? You’re making a mess, sweetheart.”

I genuinely do think rough sex is their go to, but like. Loving rough sex? Nevertheless, when one or both have an off day, when Gotham’s nightshade hand punches just a little too hard, they find sanctuary in each other’s softness.

Sometimes Bruce gets fucked with Harvey between his legs, spread like a last meal on his WE office, his smaller hands sinking in his man’s broad shoulders. And he’ll say nothing except his name, like a mantra.

“Harvey. I love you.”

“I know.”

“Bastard,” Bruce laughs rarely, and when he does, it feels like a prize, “Say it back. Both of you.”

“Tch. Brat. We love you. Happy?”

“Always.”

[writeriguess]

hello! i love your works thank you for that 🙂‍↕️

can you do pro!hero dynamite and reader whose also a pro!hero but they’re undercover so he doesn’t know? can be angsty fluff i just live for a good spy moment 💕

The city was a mess, crumbling beneath the weight of a villainous plot threatening to blow apart the fragile peace. Katsuki Bakugou, or as the world knew him, Dynamight, stomped through the broken streets, his eyes sharp as flint. Every crackle of his palms sent up tiny sparks, a reflection of the restless anger simmering within.

He didn’t like it—this mission. Not the fact that the villain had slipped through his fingers, nor that he was now working with a partner he didn’t know. The person had shown up out of nowhere, masked, with no name, only a vague promise that they were on his side. The Commission said they were a pro hero, but Katsuki wasn’t so easily convinced.

Where the hell were they? He scowled, kicking a broken piece of pavement out of his way.

“You’re gonna give yourself an ulcer if you keep that up, Dynamight.”

His head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing at the figure who appeared out of the shadows like they belonged there. A sleek black outfit, tactical and form-fitting, clung to their body—nothing about them screamed ‘hero.’ They were dressed more like a villain. The only thing that set them apart was the small emblem on their arm, hidden in the folds of their gear.

“Where’ve you been?” he growled. “I don’t have time for games.”

“I wasn’t playing,” they replied coolly, pulling down the mask just enough to smirk. “I was gathering intel. Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

Bakugou’s scowl deepened. “Tch, don’t act smart with me. If we don’t find this bastard, the whole city’s gonna burn.”

“Funny, coming from you,” they teased, falling into step beside him.

He shot them a sharp glance but said nothing more. They weren’t wrong. His hands were practically itching to blow something up, and that wasn’t helping the tension in his shoulders. He needed to stay focused. For the mission.

The two moved through the city in silence, their pace quick as they made their way toward the villain’s last known location. All the while, Bakugou couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about this person. They moved too smoothly, too confidently, like they already knew the lay of the land. And when they fought, it wasn’t just with skill but with a kind of familiarity that made him pause.

It wasn’t until they reached the hideout, tucked away in the decaying underbelly of the city, that Bakugou’s suspicions flared. The villain was there, surrounded by henchmen, but the way his partner tensed beside him, the way their breath hitched ever so slightly—

It was as if they recognized him.

“Knew you’d show up,” the villain sneered, eyes gleaming with malice. “But didn’t think you’d bring her.”

Bakugou’s heart stopped.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, glancing at his partner. They were frozen, their mask pulled low over their face, but something in the air shifted.

The villain laughed, dark and amused. “Oh, this is rich. She didn’t tell you, did she? Your partner here isn’t just some random hero. She’s been working undercover. Bet you didn’t even know she was right under your nose.”

“What—”

Before he could process what was happening, his partner ripped off their mask, revealing your face—someone Bakugou had known for years, fought beside countless times, trusted more than anyone else. But here you were, dressed in a disguise, with secrets between you so thick he could barely breathe.

“You…” Bakugou’s voice was hoarse, strangled. “You’ve been… what the hell is going on?!”

Your eyes met his, regret flickering there, but determination too. “I couldn’t tell you, Katsuki. It wasn’t safe.”

“Wasn’t safe?” His voice cracked with barely restrained fury. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time! I thought—”

“I didn’t have a choice!” you interrupted, stepping toward him. “If you knew, if anyone knew, the mission would’ve been compromised. I was trying to keep you safe.”

The air between you was thick, volatile. The villain’s laughter echoed around you, but neither of you heard it.

“You were supposed to trust me!” Bakugou spat, his hands clenching into fists. “You should’ve—”

“I did,” you whispered. “I always did. But sometimes… sometimes you can’t let someone in. Not when the stakes are this high.”

Bakugou’s breath hitched, his anger warring with the pain that stabbed through his chest. You were right in front of him, yet you’d felt a world away. All this time, you’d been fighting the same battle, but from the shadows, while he’d been left in the dark.

“We’ll talk after,” you said, your voice softer now. “Right now, we’ve got a job to do.”

Bakugou’s jaw tightened, but he gave a small nod. The mission came first, as much as it burned. Together, you turned to face the villain, the silent understanding between you an unspoken promise that this wasn’t over.

The fight was brutal. Explosions rocked the hideout as Bakugou unleashed his rage, while you moved with practiced precision, striking with lethal efficiency. But through it all, Bakugou couldn’t stop glancing at you—at the familiar way you fought, the way your eyes flashed with the same fire that burned in his.

When the dust finally settled, the villain was subdued, his threats silenced, and the city saved once more. But the silence that followed was deafening.

Bakugou turned to you, his chest heaving. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You sighed, exhaustion weighing down your limbs. “Because I knew you’d try to stop me. And I couldn’t let you do that.”

He ran a hand through his ash-blonde hair, frustration etched into every line of his body. “You’re a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

You smiled, tired but genuine. “Yeah, but you still care.”

He scowled, but it lacked the usual heat. “Shut up.”

Stepping closer, you placed a hand on his arm, your touch grounding him in a way nothing else could. “I’m sorry, Katsuki. I didn’t want to lie to you. But I had to.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, eyes scanning your face like he was seeing you for the first time. And maybe, in a way, he was. You were the same person, but you’d been carrying a weight he hadn’t seen.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Just… don’t do it again. Or I’ll kill you.”

You laughed, the sound light despite the tension. “Deal.”

And though there were still things left unsaid, for now, you had each other. That was enough.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[holylulusworld]

Unwanted mate (2) - Steve's version

Summary: Rejected. Humiliated. Left outside alone.

Pairing: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!(fem) Reader

Warnings: angst, a/b/o, rejection, unrequited feelings, hurt reader, attack, violence, blood, angry reader, arguments

A/N: This is Steve’s version of this story Unwanted Mate (Bucky’s version)

Catch up here: Unwanted Mate

After your encounter with Steve, and his promise you had no other choice but to leave your shelter and the pack. Fury promised to protect you at all costs, but you already caused so much trouble that you didn’t want them to fight in your name.

Broken, and scared you left your old life and tried to start a new life, somewhere else. No one knows your name, or where you are from. You work at a coffee shop and try not to draw too much attention to you.

Scent blockers and suppressants get you through the day and hide your true nature. Everyone in your new life believes you are a beta. It’s better this way. Omegas are still rare, and sacred. This doesn’t mean every omega gets treated the way they serve.

Even though, your nights are still the worst. You dream of Steve, and the day he rejected you over and over again.

Sometimes you ask yourself if the last encounter with Steve was a fever dream. It feels unreal that the man rejecting you in front of two packs suddenly changed his mind.

You shake your head and look at the next customer. He’s one of these busy bees, waiting for his caffeine to kick in. You know his face. One of the few you didn’t forget immediately.

“The usual?” you ask, drawing his attention toward you, not the phone in his hands. He quirks a brow and huffs. Of course, he doesn’t remember your face. He’s an ant in a bigger system, and you don’t belong to the system.

“Coffee, black,” he hisses in your direction. You don’t know what you did wrong today. Usually he’s nicer to you, and your colleagues. “Hurry up and stop wasting my time. I must stick to a schedule.”

“Coffee, black,” repeating his order you drop your eyes. “Coming up!” You twirl around to get his order.

He’s just another alpha believing he’s above a beta. If only he knew you’re an omega in disguise. That arrogant bastard would kneel in front of you to get your attention and fulfill your every wish.

Your walk home is short. The small apartment you rented under a fake name isn’t far away from the coffee shop.

On your way, you grabbed your favorite food, and more groceries to make it through the weekend. You don’t like leaving your apartment for more than work and grocery runs. Always afraid someone will discover your true nature or that Steve will find you.

Sighing deeply, you try to ignore the man from earlier standing on the sidewalk, barking at someone on the phone.

You try to pass him by and wrinkle your nose as he snarls in the phone, calling the other person a worthless beta.

“Another worthless one,” you feel a hand on your back, and then someone pushes you. Your groceries drop to the ground, and you follow them. A cry pulls from your throat when your knees hit the cold concrete. “That’s for believing you know how I like my coffee.”

While you struggle to get back up and mourn your lost dinner at the same time, the man laughs at you. He taunts you and kicks your groceries with his polished shoes.

“You will pay for this,” you snarl, and slowly get up from the ground. Your knees bleed, and your left wrist hurts like hell, but this doesn’t keep you from using all the strength that’s left to punch his nose.

He squeaks ungracefully and immediately presses his hand to his bleeding nose. “You broke my fucking nose,” he whines as you grab the bottle of wine you dropped to hit him in the groin.

“Yeah, and no one will punish me for it,” you say as you drop the bottle to the ground. You open your bag and get a wet wipe out to remove your scent blocker.

“You think you’ll get away with hurting an alpha?” He growls. “They will arrest you. No one cares about a stupid beta.”

“Bad news for you,” you step closer to let your scent wash over him. “You just attacked an omega in public. Do you remember the law?”

He blanches and steps away from you. “No…no! I didn’t know!”

“Sir, I must ask you to step away from the woman.” An officer aims his gun at your attacker. “You are arrested for attacking an omega.”

“I told you,” you mouth at the growling man. “Officer,” you fake a sob. “I’m so glad you came. He pushed me and threatened to hurt me. I…I punched his nose to keep him from hurting me even more.”

“Home sweet home,” you sigh as you drop on your couch after another day at the coffee shop. It was a less busy day, and you’re grateful for the silence at your apartment.

After the incident with the aggressive alpha, everyone knows that you are an omega. At least your forged papers protected you from getting found.

“A very nice home you made for yourself.” You freeze and a whimper escapes your lips.

His scent fills the living room, and you stiffen as he steps out of the shadows and switches the light on.

“How did you find me?” You look at Steve, eyes widen in fear. “How did you get inside my home? What do you want here?”

“Doll,” he sighs as you move to the other side of the couch the moment he gets closer to you. “I won’t harm you.” Steve shakes his head. “You caused a lot of trouble when you left. Fury lost his position, and the rest of your pack is looking for you.”

“Fury lost his position?” You ask. “This doesn’t make sense. Why would my pack abandon their leader? I’m no one special.”

“He refused to let me redo the ritual. Fury said that I lost my chance to claim you. I-I lost control of my alpha and threatened to break the peace between our packs.” He drops his gaze, ashamed of his doings. “I didn’t mean it, doll. You have to believe me. But, if you don’t come back, they will ban Fury and your parents.”

“How dare you, Steven Grant Rogers!“ You jump off the couch to jab your index finger into Steve’s chest. “You humiliated me without a reason. I stood in front of you, vulnerable and naked. I never felt so broken before.”

Steve tries to say something, but you shake your head. “No, Rogers. You won’t have a say in this any longer. We have rules for a reason. I was there, ready to become your omega and to submit to you completely. In. Any. Way.”

“Doll,” he tries to calm you, but you won’t have it. You slap his hand away when he reaches out for you to touch your cheek.

“You don’t even remember my name!” You snap at him. “Stop calling me doll! I’m not a pet, or your lover. You’ll never be anything to me but the alpha rejecting me.”

You wipe your wet eyes and take a deep breath. “Get out of my apartment!”

“I cannot leave without you,” he whispers. “If I go, your pack would come for you and force you to come back. I try to protect you.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” you snarl and bare your teeth at Steve. “You rejected me and tried to pressure Fury into handing me over to you like a piece of meat. Who do you think you are?”

“I know you hate me now,” he says, “but I’m the only one standing between you and your pack. If the order doesn’t get restored, your pack will lose control sooner rather than later. They need Fury as their leader. So, I’m begging you to come with me.”

“No,” you confidentially say. “If you want to prove that you are here to protect me, and help Fury, you’ll stay here with me.”

“D-Y/N,” he licks his lips. “We can’t…”

“We can and will,” you growl. “And I will call Fury. I don’t trust anyone but him…”

Part 3