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joshujin · 1 month ago

Text

adore u

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after a career drought full of dead end positions, you finally land a job you can be proud to include on your resume—prestigious company, room for growth, and most importantly, a salary that will allow you and your boyfriend, soonyoung, to breathe a little easier. what you don’t expect is the discrimination and vitriol you’re met with on the job. as office life gets harder and harder for you, soonyoung finds it increasingly impossible to sit back and watch you repeatedly get hurt like this. so he dusts off a mask he never thought he’d use again, and when your colleagues start dropping dead one by one… well, that’s none of his business.

♫ i did something bad taylor swift

pairing: ghostface!soonyoung x fem!reader wc: 23k 🤨 tags: horror fic (kinda not really), scream fic, established relationship, alternating povs, normal (used loosely lol) lovers to crazy psycho lovers, screenwriter!soonyoung, corporate slave!reader, “he hates everyone but her” trope except make it “he hates and brutally murders everyone but her” ┐(￣ヘ￣;)┌ a/n: the platinum blonde spiky hair ghostface soonyoung brain rot had me in a chokehold. this all started just bc i saw a gifset of him looking soooo early 00s fuck boy pop star and immediately my brain was like “ghostface hoshi.” so here we are. i do watch horror but like. i’m here for a good time not a critical time LOL. i am no expert on horror movies! i just like watching the more digestible ones, and if there are inconsistencies with the reasoning for becoming a killer or the relationship between killer and lover of killer or how realistically easy it would be to catch the killer… well, just pretend there aren’t :) i’m just trying to eradicate this ghostface hoshi brainworm :) so enjoy it :) or don’t :) this is more for me than anyone else :)

warnings READ ALL OF THEM!

content: murder… obviously (it won’t be overly gory, but it is described, so be careful. it won’t be anyone in svt), he’s a psychopath (again… obviously), blood, knives/stabbing, torture, domestic violence (not between mcs), traumatic brain injury, misogyny, daddy issues, eh mommy issues too why not, male use of the word “whore” and “bitch” against a woman, workplace harassment (bullying, hazing, finance tech red pill bro culture), sexual harassment in the workplace (inappropriate comments, sexualization of reader by male coworkers, etc. but no physical sexual assault takes place), no physical description of reader but she’s called a diversity hire by her harassers (whatever makes her diverse can be up to you), murdered people could possibly share names with idols idk but if they do, that’s a coincidence bc these are just random names, protectiveness to insane levels, possessiveness, codependency, jealousy, toxic and unhealthy relationship, reader is also crazy smut: marked at beginning and end if you’d like to avoid, unprotected piv, creampie, roleplaying (kinda? like, is it roleplaying if they’re roleplaying as themselves but one of them doesn’t realize it’s themselves?), squirting, kink exploration, mentions of bondage, mentions of blindfolding, mentions of choking, mentions of degradation, mentions of knife play, light breeding kink, shower sex, oral (both receiving), face fucking, fingering, spitting, uh horniness supercharged by murder so… whatever tag that is, dirty talk except make it about murder, honestly don’t look at me

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

IN AN APARTMENT

a man (jake) dressed in a disheveled suit returns home late at night presumably from work, though from his mannerisms, he seems drunk.

he takes his jacket off and lets it fall to the floor. he is grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge when his phone rings. the number is private. he declines it. when it rings again, he fumbles to hit the right button for several seconds but eventually answers, swaying drunkenly as he does.

JAKE hello? (he hears loud breathing) hello? (no answer) who is this? (hangs up and mutters to himself) fucking weirdos.

his phone rings again, and he watches his cell vibrate on the counter. he closes the fridge door and answers the phone, obviously ready to yell at whoever it is, but he is cut off by a raspy male voice.

PHONE STRANGER hi, jake.

jake freezes, too flustered to speak.

PHONE STRANGER oh come on, don’t be rude. where are your manners? this is where you say hi back. go on, try it.

JAKE who is this?

PHONE STRANGER that’s too easy, don’t you think? and too easy is never any fun.

jake seems to deflate, his exhaustion too potent to argue with a stranger. he hangs up once more. the phone rings again. he answers it in an almost violent fashion.

JAKE leave me alone!

PHONE STRANGER hang up on me again and i’ll take that pretty, little butcher knife (jake’s eyes dart to the knife block on his kitchen island. camera changes focus to knives) and run it down the entirety of your torso until the floor is slick with your blood and organs.

jake looks around the apartment, understanding there is a large chance he is being watched.

camera angle changes to a shaky shot farther away from around the corner in a dark hallway, suggesting whoever is watching is already in the apartment with him. goes back to jake in kitchen.

jake inches forward, wrapping his fingers around the very same knife he was just threatened with.

PHONE STRANGER hiding it won’t help you, jake. and neither will using it. i promise.

jake’s fingers immediately let go and he takes several steps back in horror as he realizes he is definitely being watched.

PHONE STRANGER good boy! (sounds genuinely excited) so you do listen after all. now. let’s start over. hi, jake.

JAKE hi. (voice cracks, clears his throat) what do you want?

stranger clicks tongue in disapproval.

PHONE STRANGER jake, jake, jake. didn’t we talk about manners already? (jake inches toward the front door, stranger laughs) eh, i probably wouldn’t go that way if i were you. (jake freezes, eyes flitting around the room wildly) what do you want to try next?

camera briefly shifts to a dark corner closer to jake now. goes back to kitchen.

JAKE who are you?

PHONE STRANGER my name is hoshi. (jake is very obviously surprised) didn’t expect me to tell you my name, did you? thought i’d keep that a secret? you don’t have to ask either; that’s my real name.

JAKE why?

HOSHI why what?

JAKE why are you telling me your name?

HOSHI well, it doesn’t matter if i tell you my name. it’s going to die with you anyway.

jake quickly takes the phone away from his ear and begins to dial the police. being drunk, he mistypes several times.

HOSHI i won’t try to talk you out of that. someone needs to find your body after all. i do want people to know you’re dead. i want her to know you’re dead. that you’re never going to hurt her ever again. so by all means, call the police. but i assure you. they won’t come in time.

JAKE (in a shaky voice) yes they will.

HOSHI no. they won’t. and you know how i know?

jake finally gets the call going, phone automatically putting hoshi on hold.

HOSHI i know because you’re a dumb ass and you never even put me on speaker.

camera focuses on jake’s face front on as his eyes widen and he freezes. audience hears dispatcher answer the line.

DISPATCH what is your emergency?

hoshi appears behind jake in a white mask, face contorted into a permanent scream, and a black tattered robe. audience hears a squelch as jake’s mouth falls open in pain and he stumbles. his phone falls out of his hand, ending the call.

camera angle switches to side view, where audience can see a hunter knife buried in the middle of jake’s back. hoshi slowly slides the knife out of him, letting him fall to the floor, where he’s immediately crawling away.

hoshi makes no move to follow him yet. simply watches him kick and struggle to stand.

HOSHI i knew you were dumb, but i didn’t realize you were this dumb.

he slowly walks after him, watching as jake pathetically tries to make it to the front door, blood trailing behind him. he crashes into most of his furniture as he stumbles past.

hoshi reaches him and kicks him in his stab wound, causing jake to fall back to the floor, screaming in agony.

JAKE god, why?! WHY?!

HOSHI question of the night, huh?

JAKE (sobbing, turns over and pulls himself away enough until he’s slouched up against the back of his couch) i don’t even know who you are!

hoshi squats down in front of him, forearms on knees, eye level. he keeps his bloody knife threateningly close to jake’s face.

HOSHI but i know who you are. oh man, i know exactly who you are. i’ve heard all about you, jake. more than i should’ve ever had to hear about you.

jake sobs harder as hoshi runs his knife gently across his neck, leaving his own blood on his skin.

HOSHI you couldn’t just be the quiet coworker who came to work, minded his own goddamn business, and went home, huh? you had to be the red pill loser.

JAKE (weakly) what…? i don’t… huh?

HOSHI you hurt her, jake. and when you hurt her… well frankly, you hurt me. and i don’t let anyone get away with hurting me.

JAKE who’s “her”?! who are you?! i don’t even know what you’re talking about, dude. please! please! i promise i won’t tell anyone! i’ll do whatever you want! i’ll give you whatever you want—just let me live!

hoshi doesn’t say anything for several seconds. resembles predator watching prey. when jake starts blubbering and begging, he sighs.

HOSHI what if what i want… (tilts his head menacingly at him) is for you to die… (wipes his knife along the length of his sleeve, cleaning it of blood) an incredibly slow and painful death? hm? what if that’s what i want? will you still give it to me, jake?

JAKE i don’t get it, please, i don’t get it. who are you? what do you want?

HOSHI god you’re a fucking moron, i literally just told you what i fucking want.

he drives his knife into jake’s thigh. when he screams, hoshi backhands him to shut him up.

several seconds pass as jake tries to catch his breath.

JAKE why are you doing this?

hoshi removes his knife from his thigh, just to plunge it into his abdomen. jake doubles over, blood spilling past his lips.

hoshi lets go of the knife, leaving it buried inside jake. he tries to reach up and remove it, but hoshi gently presses a single finger to the hilt. jake screams and lets his hands fall away. hoshi removes his finger.

HOSHI (casually) honestly, it’s kind of futile explaining this to an idiot who gets off of shitting on women.

jake’s breathing is labored as his screams subside.

HOSHI (comically scratches his head) like, how do i even explain love to a greasy little incel like you?

JAKE (incredulously, while stuttering) love?

HOSHI yes, jake. love. you know, it’s so funny. i really, really hated that word for most of my life, and then… one day that just… changed, i guess.

JAKE you’re killing me because… you love… me?

HOSHI (sputters/laughs) what?! are you fucking—what?! (backhands him again) i can’t even fathom how fucking stupid you are! what the fuck? (jake groans) no, you jackass, how could anybody love you? you’re like shit on the bottom of my shoe. (mutters again) what the fuck?

JAKE i don’t get it.

HOSHI (sighs) i know you don’t, dimwit. that’s why i’m not going to bother explaining why you’ll die tonight. you’ll never understand what it’s like to love someone the way i love her. i fucking adore her.

he watches jake carefully, head tilting to the other side like he’s studying his looming death. or enjoying it.

HOSHI and jake (just barely skims one finger from where the blade disappears into flesh, up the hilt of the knife) one thing about me?

jake’s eyes go up to meet the black holes in the mask, breathing coming out in short gasps now.

HOSHI my adoration is killer.

without warning, hoshi grabs his knife once more, other hand holding jake’s shoulder down as he pulls the knife up his torso with alarming force. he makes good on his promise to cover his floors with his own blood and organs.

your life has become a sad routine of miserably crying monday through friday, suffering an emotional hangover on saturdays, and spending the entirety of sunday shaking with anxiety over the mere thought of having to go back to work and do it all over again the next day.

your job, for the most part, is predictable. you expect to come in and endure catcalls, unprovoked insults, glares, and lewd gestures all before you even reach your desk. you expect to have your work—as flawless as you know it is—ridiculed and mocked, just for someone else to copy it word for word, claim it as his own, and receive endless praise for it. you expect your boss to sheepishly shrug and tell you boys will be boys and to be a “team player.” you expect to be told you’re useless, you’re just a diversity hire, and all you’re good for is something nice to look at.

as the only woman on an all-male, all-asshole team, you expect pure torment.

what you don’t expect is to be corralled into the company auditorium with hundreds of other employees first thing in the morning, where you’re all informed that jay, the psychopath you share a cubicle with, was not just playing hooky and skipping work like you and all his buddies assumed, but that he “tragically” passed away earlier this week. you’re in a daze as they tell everyone grief counseling is available and that those close to jay can take bereavement effective immediately if they have to.

what you also don’t expect is to return to your desk, google his obituary, and be met with several articles detailing a gruesome murder that took place in his apartment building. jay isn’t directly named, but you don’t need him to be to know it’s him. the executives were too dodgy about the announcement of his death for this to be about anybody else.

your eyes scan over words like “stabbed,” “bloodied,” “screams,” “ripped,” and “spilled.” the journalist describes it as the most grisly homicide to take place since the “prank call killings”—even goes as far to make connections between jay’s murder and the string of deaths that took place years ago, in a small town not far from where you are.

both involved victims with multiple stab wounds.

both were indicative of a frighteningly large hunting knife with unique serrations used as the weapon.

both ended with the torsos being carelessly cut open down the middle—while the victim was still alive.

the one difference is that police found no evidence of calls made to jay’s phone before his death.

this begs the question: after nearly a decade, has the prank call killer made their return, or has a copycat ascended their throne?

the closing line sends a chill down your spine, but you’re not sure it feels bad.

in fact, there’s one last thing you don’t expect that comes of today: as you turn in your seat to look at jay’s desk, exactly how he left it, you find that you don’t feel horrified about his death. contrarily, you find yourself feeling relieved. elated, even. and that’s what horrifies you.

as the team that housed jay, your boss releases you all from work for the rest of the day, some for the whole week. not you, though—never you. you are expected to return first thing in the morning to begin sorting through jay’s work and figure out where you can fill in and what you can split amongst your coworkers. but you know that won’t be happening; no one on your team would lift a pinkie to help you even if you were on the floor dying. everything jay left behind will be your responsibility now, not that that’s much of an issue. the man was already pawning all his work to you anyway.

“baby?”

soonyoung’s voice filters through the noise of the coffee machine as you close and lock the door behind you. a head of blonde, spiky hair pokes out from around the corner. your boyfriend’s eyebrows are raised, mouth puckered into a cute, surprised o.

“hey, what are you doing back?” he asks as he completely exits the kitchen and walks around the corner. his hands are immediately pressed against your forehead and neck when he reaches you, eyes running up and down your body like he’s checking for injuries. “are you okay? do you have a fever? are you sick?”

you don’t even have the energy to playfully slap him away and roll your eyes like you normally would at his overly worried behavior. you just shake your head slowly.

“what’s wrong?” he mutters, letting his hands fall to snake around your waist. soonyoung watches you so closely and so attentively, you almost swoon enough to forget why you’re so distraught.

“i…”

soonyoung doesn’t urge you to speak, patiently waiting for you to find the words you want to use. you shake your head again.

“jay’s… jay is dead?” you announce, sounding unsure and confused even though it’s literally just a fact now.

soonyoung snorts. “that would be a dream. how would he die? what’s the most satisfying way to imagine it? hit by a bus? fell into an open manhole? choked on a—”

“no,” you interject, gripping his forearms and squeezing. he moves to let go of you but you keep him where he is. “he’s actually dead, soonyoung. like… dead dead.”

he raises an eyebrow, still obviously hesitating. “okay, i want to say you’re joking… but your use of my government name is telling me you’re not…?”

“i’m not!” you insist, slapping his arms away now.

“hey.” he pouts.

“why else would i be home right now?!” you point out. “park told us to take the day off.” you toe off your shoes and push past soonyoung, further into the home you share. “something about grieving.”

you go straight to the couch, flopping onto it face down.

“oh my god?” your boyfriend murmurs in a daze as he follows you, brows furrowed into a deep frown.

he sits on the small sliver of couch you’re not occupying, automatically arranging you so that you’re laying face up against him between his legs. his arms find your waist once more.

“what… what happened…?” he asks, obviously trying to tread the topic carefully. he knows how much you hated jay—hell, as your biggest supporter, he hated him too. but for him to die? you’re full of complicated feelings. “is that why he’s been skipping work?”

you nod. “and it’s not just that… park and the other execs didn’t say this, but… i looked up his name to see if i could read the obituary.”

“mmm,” he hums, nodding. “tracks for a nosy girl like you.”

“not the time!” you whine, already pulling away. he tightens his arms around you, keeping you from moving.

“okay, okay! sorry! i’ll be serious—i swear! i’m sorry!”

you huff and relax against him once more.

“so you looked up his obituary…” he encourages you to continue, voice lower as he tries to be serious—a feat for him, honestly.

“i… i think jay was murdered.”

you whisper the words without meaning to, like you’re scared of giving life to them. like if you say them loud enough, the prank call killer—or their copycat—will come bursting through the door and shred you and the love of your life into ribbons of blood and flesh.

soonyoung remains quiet and you can almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tries to find the correct thing to say. you bet he’s trying to scour his brain for anything that isn’t an inappropriate joke.

“murdered…?” he asks in a small voice. “why… how…?”

you rest your hands over his on your stomach, pressing even further into him as you retell what you read.

a victim was found in his own apartment, stab wounds to his back and left thigh. it was clear he was attacked in his kitchen and that his assailant let him make it halfway to his front door… before they cornered him against his own couch. then, they gutted him—from lower abdomen to sternum, where his bones wouldn’t give any more way for the knife. they didn’t name him. they didn’t even describe his appearance. all they said was that he was 28, and he lived alone.

but you knew, and from the way you spoke, you were confident soonyoung wouldn’t question you about it. he was good at trusting you and believing in you.

“that’s… fucking barbaric…” he breathes out after you recount the story. “i mean, the guy was a fucking asshole, but… that’s… i mean, it’s… i—”

“i feel happy.” you blurt out the words that have been brewing in your head since you left the office.

to his credit, your boyfriend has taken most of this information well despite the poorly timed jokes. but at this new revelation, his entire body tenses against yours, and you immediately regret being honest.

“you think i’m a monster, don’t you?” you ask quietly, ready for him to gently remove you from him. to admonish you. maybe even leave. “you think—”

“i don’t think you’re a monster.”

he says it with so much conviction, you believe it the first time he says it. soonyoung repeats it anyway.

“i don’t think you’re a monster, baby. please don’t say that. i’m just… surprised. i mean i’m definitely not mourning the guy, but i know how these kinds of things can upset you.”

you know he’s referring to all the times news headlines made you cry, or the times bleak documentaries pushed you into a weird episode of feeling like there was no meaning to life and everything was pointless. you’ve always been easily affected by the world around you, so it’s fair for him to be surprised that being this close in proximity to a victim of such inexplicable violence doesn’t send you straight into a panic attack.

“he just… he made my life so hard, soonie,” you say, not expecting the tears that fill your eyes. your voice cracks on your boyfriend’s name and he immediately rests his lips against the crown of your head and whispers his love for you.

“i know,” he says after he’s told you he loves you at least a dozen times. “trust me, i know.”

soonyoung actually knows best because he’s the one who’s picking up the pieces when you come home broken and inconsolable. he’s the one who calms you down enough to explain what happened this time.

jay purposefully knocked your coffee over a report that took you a week. jay took credit for a project you were forced to collaborate with him on—a project you ended up doing all by yourself. jay was telling everyone you were a ditzy bimbo that couldn’t do her job right. jay went out drinking with the boss and spent the whole night talking shit about you. jay wouldn’t stop trying to convince you you were only hired because you had a pair of tits. that those tits are all you’re ever going to be worth.

he’s the entire reason the team is the way they are around you now. he’s the one who emboldened them to treat you the way they do.

and day after day, week after week, for almost a year now, soonyoung has had to endure all your rants—rants that were exactly the same because you didn’t know how to stand up for yourself. the only thing you knew how to do was “be a team player” in the hopes that you could find a promotion into another team or even better, a new job altogether.

being the best boyfriend there is, soonyoung never complained about your venting. even on nights he had to abandon the latest script he was working on, even on days he had to call in sick to the writers’ room because he had insisted on staying up until the sun rose, consoling you—he never complained or even hinted that he was tired of you. not once.

even more meaningful to you, he never chastised you for being unable to find the strength to speak back or enforce your boundaries, something you were already plenty embarrassed about. he never made you feel less than; he knew you already had enough of that from the men in your work life.

soonyoung was the gentleness and softness you craved and needed so desperately in your life. he was safety and love and warmth and he was what continuously healed you as your job tried over and over again to break you.

he knew all of this. he knew how much you hated it and how much you hated jay, and it comforts you to know that he doesn’t think you’re a monster for being happy he’s dead. it gives you the courage to be even more honest with him.

“i’m relieved,” you tell him, wiping away your tears. “i’m so relieved he’s gone, and that it’s over. that maybe now… maybe now, i’ll be safe.”

his hold on you tightens and he leaves more kisses in your hair.

“and… i feel like a terrible person saying this…”

“whatever it is, you’re not. so don’t.”

it’s the push you need.

“i’m glad he suffered,” you admit, feeling lighter as soon as it’s out of your mouth. “i’m not just happy he died… i’m glad he died in the most heinous way. and i’m glad his killer made it hurt.”

once the words are out, you can’t take them back. and soonyoung doesn’t make you feel like you should. after a few seconds of silence, he just sighs and leans forward to kiss your cheek.

“then i am too, baby. if you’re happy, then i’m happy.”

he says it like you didn’t just tell him the grossest thing you’ve ever said in your life. and when you look up and catch his reflection in the window opposite of you, unbeknownst to him, you find him smiling into your hair almost like he’s pleased with you. you believe that he really is happy when you’re happy.

and honestly, you love him even more for it.

“i love you, soonie.”

“i adore you,” he says, his favorite way to express his affection for you—even moreso than “love,” though he learned to return the four-letter word once you expressed how important it was to you. “endlessly.” he pauses briefly before promising: “i’ll love you forever.”

it takes just one week, when everyone returns from their bereavement, for you to realize you aren’t safe—that jay’s death just put his friends on edge and made them more dangerous than ever. that for some fucked up reason, they felt that torturing you was the best way they could keep their sick friend’s memory alive.

and it makes you wish they were all dead too.

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

as hoshi stands over his bed, clean of the blood he shed just hours ago and watching his girlfriend sleep, a montage of traumatic events from hoshi’s childhood begins flashing—switching between his memories and their bedroom until his memories win out.

FLASHBACK

a very young hoshi screams as he throws his tiny body against his father’s uselessly. his father has his hands around his mother’s neck, choking her mercilessly.

YOUNG HOSHI stop it! stop! get off my mommy! (begins punching but makes no headway) stop! please!

DAD you think i wouldn’t hear about you coming around to that dead beat’s house under the guise of asking for sugar, you fucking whore?!

YOUNG HOSHI please! mommy!

hoshi’s father removes one hand from his wife’s neck to shove his son aside. hoshi stumbles several steps before falling and hitting his head on the corner of the table and blacking out.

memory moves to hoshi’s recovery, when he is back home with a bandage around his head. blood blooms on the back of it. he is freshly woken up, in his pajamas, and his mother is changing the dressing on his injury.

there is something eerily blank about his face.

MOM (in a hoarse voice) let me know if it hurts, sweetheart.

YOUNG HOSHI okay. (pauses in what seems to be thought, though his expression does not change) will you let me know if it hurts too?

camera follows his gaze, focusing on the bruises around her neck. his mother’s hands still on his head before she continues in silence.

hoshi does not urge her to answer him, his eyes almost glazing over as he stares at her bruises. his mother finishes up changing the bandaging.

MOM you don’t worry your cute, little head about mommy, okay? in fact—

she pauses to put the medical supplies away into the first aid kit resting on the nightstand and smooths her dress before crouching in front of hoshi’s bed. she takes his hands in hers.

MOM mommy doesn’t want you interfering like that ever again, okay? (hoshi’s face remains blank as he meets her eyes now) when you hear daddy or mommy shouting, i want you to stay right here, in your bed, with the door shut and locked, and i don’t want you to come out until i come get you, alright?

YOUNG HOSHI am i in trouble?

MOM no, no sweetie. you’re not in trouble. but daddy will be home soon. in the next day or so. and mommy needs you to be safe and healthy, so will you promise me that you’ll stay out of it?

YOUNG HOSHI why does daddy hurt you?

MOM daddy is… he’s sick, sweetheart.

YOUNG HOSHI if someone is sick, is it okay for us to let them hurt us?

despite hoshi’s blank stare, his mother recognizes this will be a pivotal moment that informs the way her son sees the world. she blinks rapidly as her thoughts go into overdrive and she tries not to cry.

MOM (whispers) no. (she pauses, shaking her head and quickly wiping away her tears before returning her hand to hoshi’s) no, it’s not okay. you don’t let anybody hurt you, sweetheart. not you. no one hurts you.

YOUNG HOSHI why do you let daddy hurt you?

MOM i… i love him, hoshi. i love your father. and he loved me once too. maybe he will again. but either way, i will still love him. he gave me you.

hoshi’s blank stare breaks at this, like the idea of any part of him being from his father bothers him. like he realizes he might be the only reason his mother stays with his father.

YOUNG HOSHI you love him… (his mother nods) i never want to love someone then.

memory moves years forward, when hoshi is 17. they remain in the same home, but messier and much sadder. colors are cooler than the past warmer memories audience has seen before.

hoshi is seated on the edge of a bigger bed now, in the same position as the previous memory, this time without his mom.

hands grip the comforter tensely. works his jaw anxiously as he stares, expressionless, at the door.

sound is muffled as camera zooms in on door. audience hears high-pitched whining sound as shots quickly flash between the door, hoshi on the bed, and the blood that spread on the floor from his head injury when he was young.

the whining gets louder as all the memories that flash now focus on young hoshi’s traumatic brain injury (blood, his mother screaming, blood, cops, stitches, bandages, blood, blood, blood).

the sound comes back full volume as the flashing comes back and stops on his closed room door.

MOM i’m sorry! i’m—

his mother’s pleas are cut off with her own scream as the walls shake and boom with the force of her body being thrown against them.

hoshi relaxes his fingers and smooths the comforter where he wrinkled it. he stands calmly, making his way to the door. his hand hovers over the locked handle.

flashes back to his conversation with his mom.

MOM will you promise me that you’ll stay out of it?

young hoshi’s face is blank but the way his eyes search his mother’s face in a way audience did not see before now implies that he possibly could’ve been weighing his options, even as a child.

YOUNG HOSHI why does daddy hurt you?

back to 17-year-old hoshi.

HOSHI (mutters to himself) you never promised.

audience sees he made it to the kitchen during the flashback. he faces the doorway from the kitchen to the living room.

camera focuses on door. mother is thrown across the living room, father stalks after her. the sounds of punching are heard but they’re beginning to muffle again.

flashes back.

MOM you don’t let anybody hurt you, sweetheart. not you. no one hurts you.

flashes back to memory from beginning of film.

MOM (both sprawled across grass on a sunny day) you and i, we’re one, hosh. you’re made of me, and i’m made of you!

YOUNG HOSHI i’m you and you’re me?

MOM hm. not quite but sure, yes! and we’ll always have each other.

flashes to conversation after brain injury.

YOUNG HOSHI why do you let daddy hurt you?

MOM i… i love him, hoshi.

we come back to teen hoshi in the kitchen. his mother’s voice is still there, but as muffled as the rest of the sounds are.

he walks forward and calmly retrieves the biggest knife from the block on the counter.

MOM (muffled voiceover) i love your father. and he loved me once too.

he weighs the knife in his hand and flips it so he’s holding it blade up. he holds it like someone who’s practiced this before.

he turns back toward the living room, walking to the doorway that separates it from the kitchen.

MOM (muffled voiceover) maybe he will again.

he watches as his father punches his mother wherever she can’t block him. as he takes a step forward, the high-pitched whining returns, the camera begins to shake, and the house seemingly starts to crumble around him as he walks forward.

scenes once again flash between hoshi approaching his father, the conversation on the bed, and the blood pooling from his brain injury.

MOM (voiceover, warped by the whining) but either way, i will still love him.

the scenes flashing now show bits of hoshi reaching his father amongst the rubble of their home, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him off his mother and onto his feet.

whining and shaking reaches a fever pitch before going eerily silent and the scene shows sunlight filtering through leaves.

MOM (clear voice) he gave me you.

camera comes back to hoshi and his mother sprawled across the grass. the memory is different this time.

MOM (said less warmly, more an order now) you and i, we’re one, hosh. you’re made of me, and i’m made of you.

as dialogue progresses, sun disappears, covered by dark clouds. hoshi sits up and narrows his eyes at the sky. when he turns toward his mom, he sees they are now both in the living room, the house completely in tact again, and she’s holding his small body—the younger version of him, limp in her arms as he watches from across the room. she’s covered in his blood, and so is the floor and coffee table.

MOM (blankly with no urgency) you and i. we’re one. someone hurts me, they hurt you. and what did i tell you?

HOSHI (voiceover as camera begins to follow the trail of blood gushing from young hoshi’s head) no one hurts me.

complete silence, camera still following young hoshi’s blood as it flows across the hardwood floor.

the flow joins the massive pool around two pairs of shoes, both facing each other. camera stays there for a few moments, before his mother’s screams pierce the silence.

camera slowly travels up hoshi’s legs from behind, until it reaches his head, where it looks like his dad is embracing him.

something heavy falls into the blood (presumably organs), creating a splashing noise, and shortly after that, hoshi shoves his father. it’s clear he had simply died and collapsed onto him.

his mother starts screaming and sobbing over his body for several minutes, but hoshi finds that he feels relieved, his face breaking out into the smallest smile for the first time since he hit his head.

when his mother gains her senses, she grabs his face between her hands, her own face bloody, puffy, and bruised.

MOM go! you have to go! they won’t understand, they’ll take you to jail, hoshi! you have to leave!

HOSHI (frowning) but we’re safe now.

his mother freezes.

HOSHI he’s gone. we’re safe now.

MOM (she swallows and nods shakily) we are. but i can’t let them take you to prison, sweetheart.

his mom begins leading him through the house, quickly forcing him to change out of his blood-soaked clothes, gathering important belongings and food, finding years’ worth of hidden emergency cash she never found the courage to use, stuffing it into his backpack.

HOSHI mom… what… i…

his mother brings him to the back door, weaving his arms through the backpack and smiling unconvincingly. she takes his face in her hands once more and kisses both cheeks as her tears start to fall.

MOM you be safe, okay?

HOSHI are you mad at me? do you hate me?

MOM what? no, no, sweetie. no. (said forcefully. pauses to think) i’ve only ever felt adoration for you, hoshi. adoration and nothing else. i’m sorry i let this happen. i’m sorry i subjected you to this.

HOSHI mom—

MOM but you need to go now, okay? the neighbors will have heard all the screaming. take the cash, go far away, and whatever you do, don’t come back.

HOSHI but—

MOM go!

she all but shoves him out of the door. she lingers there for a moment, trying her best to let the last memory of his mom be one of her smiling. she whispers an i love you before slamming the door shut.

PRESENT

we return to present-day hoshi, who is now seated on the edge of his girlfriend’s side of their bed. he strokes her hair away from her face as she breathes softly, still asleep.

he smiles, obviously, genuinely in love.

HOSHI (whispers) adoration.

you’re back at work the next day, much to soonyoung’s chagrin. he had been hoping you’d get the rest of the week off, and maybe he could get out of going into the writers’ room and keep you company at home. but he knows that was wishful thinking, especially with how set your team has been on not only working you to the bone, but ruining your life. but at least you enjoy the rest of the week since no one else is there to bother you.

for the first time since jay entered your life, you start to look light again. you start to smile more freely, joke more, and come home with bright eyes. it brings him hope that this is how it will be now—that he did the right thing.

though, he already knows for a fact he did the right thing.

soonyoung can’t describe the pure ecstasy that ran through his veins the moment you admitted you were happy that jay was dead—not only that you were happy he was gone, but that you were glad the killer made it hurt. you didn’t say it, but he heard it loud and clear.

you were proud of him for what he did. you adored him for the way he punished jay, and he would do it again. no matter how many times it took—how many lives it took—he would spill gallons and gallons of blood for you, and he would do it happily. no one would ever hurt you again. not with him around, and he planned to be around until you were both buried six feet deep.

there wasn’t anything that could beat this feeling, he had decided the moment you bared your heart to him—so naked and vulnerable, and still trusting him to hold it gently. you weren’t horrified by his means of protection. you weren’t running the other direction. you were grateful. and he doesn’t know why he thought you would be any other way. there’s a reason he’s with you, after all.

if there’s anything even remotely similar to a soulmate, that’s what you are. you’re meant to be his—made to be his. and he was made to be yours—to serve you, to keep you safe, to kill for you. it doesn’t matter that his habit started long before he ever even met you; now, his talents are only reserved for you.

and it made excitement bubble under the surface of his skin knowing you liked it. you didn’t even know he was jay’s murderer—hell, you didn’t even know he was the prank call killer—and you still admired his work anyway.

“what are you smiling at?”

he startles and looks up to see jihoon peering at his laptop screen, still only half a page full although they’ve been in the writers’ room the whole day. his colleague and friend frowns.

soonyoung sighs. “just daydreaming, man,” he says. it’s not dishonest. he shuts his laptop and stretches in his seat before standing and drawing the attention of the small handful of writers left. “going to head out now, everyone. got a pretty lady waiting for me at home. don’t stay too late, okay?”

he gets the usual playful eye rolls and smiles and cooing from the others as he slaps jihoon on the back and promises to get dinner with him soon. at work, he’s only known for three things: the exceptional writing that got him his lead position on the show, his fixation on horror movies, and his “obsession” with you. he liked it—the idea that when people thought of him, they immediately thought of you too. they know you belong to each other, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

soonyoung barely has the car started and in reverse when you call. he answers immediately.

“hey, baby, i’m just lea—”

“soonyoung?”

his heart stops at the sound of your voice. it’s clear you’ve been crying. for how long, he doesn’t know, but your words are still thick with tears. you sound exhausted and broken and worst of all, defeated. you sound like the day you came home and he decided he was going to kill jay—the first person he’s killed since he graduated college almost 10 years ago.

he puts the car back into park, clenching his jaw for a moment so that his first response to you isn’t tell me his name and i’ll have his head in front of you in an hour.

“soonie?” you whimper. “are you there? i’m sorry to call, i know you’re at work. i—”

“y/n, where are you?” he asks as calmly as he can.

“i’m home,” you answer, voice so small, it makes his rage burn hotter.

the fact that you’re home gives him at least some relief.

“i was hoping you’d be here,” you tell him, voice shaky. “i just need someone to talk to. i had…” you whisper your next words like if you’re any louder, you’ll completely break down. “i thought work would be better. fuck, soonie, i thought work was going to be better.” your words devolve into devastated sobs as you repeat yourself.

soonyoung’s instinct is to race to you, to hold you until your tears stop, and to put you to bed and make sure that every time you wake up from a nightmare, he’s still there, arms tight around you, unyielding. protecting you and in turn, protecting himself.

but his mask, robe, and knife are still in the trunk from his visit to jay’s last week, and right now, he thinks that paying a visit to whichever idiot you’re going to tell him about is the best way he can help.

he forces himself to turn the engine off.

“tell me everything,” he says softly, though his body feels so tense, he thinks he might pop a blood vessel.

“you’re not busy, are you?” you hiccup through your tears. “i can wait until you—”

“i’m not busy, love,” he says, eye inadvertently twitching from using the word.

soonyoung still struggles with it. he tries not to because it’s an affection that makes you feel comforted and, well, loved, and he’ll do anything to make you feel that way. still, he doesn’t know how to keep it from feeling like an insult to you.

love was what his father gave his mom. love was what made his mom stay with a monster. what he has for you isn’t the same; it’s leagues beyond it. he doesn’t think there’s a word for what he feels for you at all.

“go on,” he encourages you. “i’m listening. tell me.”

and you do.

soonyoung used to think he never had a control issue with his habit. it wasn’t something he craved or thought about the way he read that other serial killers did. no, his murderous tendencies only ever reared its ugly, useful head when he needed a solution for an ugly, useless lowlife.

the first was his father. something about cutting his stomach wide open, feeling the warmth of him rush over his hands, hearing the sound of him fall to his feet in pieces—he decided that would be the way it happened each time. he wanted to see a man who didn’t know how to treat a person right—and he wanted to feel the life flow right out of him. without meaning to, it became his M.O.

he found himself hopping city to city after being forced from his home, and there was no shortage of men who needed correction—or, eradication. it was simple at first; he’d see a horrible interaction between lovers or a father and a child or classmates or even strangers, he’d follow the offender until they were alone, and he’d gut them like a pig. he didn’t think about hiding or burying the body, leaving it in plain sight to humiliate his victims further. he didn’t even have his mask yet, and in retrospect, he’s not sure how he didn’t get caught because he was careless in those early days.

he took it as a sign from the universe that he was doing exactly what he was supposed to.

soonyoung was smart with the money his mom left him and picked up part-time jobs until he had enough to put himself through school. university was crawling with losers begging to be killed, but he was a little older and a little wiser, and he knew a serial killer on campus would draw too much attention. so he forced himself to focus on the worst of the worst. and that was when he realized his M.O. was evolving.

it started with a frat president rumored to drug and take advantage of girls at their house parties. soonyoung watched him for a whole semester, taking note of his schedule, his routes, his haunts, his friends. then, he started calling him. nothing more than heavy breathing at first. but when he could hear the man’s nerves fraying—and that didn’t take long—he started talking to him. he found that he liked psychologically torturing him as much as he’d tortured the girls he’d hurt.

hi, allen.

who i am isn’t important.

i hear you can’t get a woman to consent to having sex with you. what’s the problem? is it small? well, even if it is, that isn’t really an issue—just gotta know what to do with it, right?

well, i mean, why else would you resort to drugging and assaulting women?

don’t lie to me. i see everything.

one night, weeks after he’d started calling allen, soonyoung had one last phone conversation with him, one where he was no longer bluffing. he actually was seeing everything, standing in the dark corners of the kitchen in their fraternity house—this time in full disguise—while allen and his brothers got drunk in the backyard.

oh, allen, it’s a bad night to be drunk, buddy.

why? because i’m going to free this campus of you tonight. gonna cleanse the floors of this horrid fucking house with your blood.

it’s too late for “sorry,” allen. besides, i’m not the one who needs to hear it.

the frat president tried to stay with at least one person at all times after the call, but as his brothers got drunker and drunker and started stumbling off to bed or passing out, allen found himself alone. and in the morning, his brothers found him the same way, except this time, with his insides all over the outside.

soonyoung killed two more people while in college, and even though they were far enough apart, he still got dubbed the prank call killer, a name he found childish and dumb. besides, he didn’t want a name; he wanted men to be scared. at least scared enough to try to be decent.

then, college ended, he packed up to follow the shows he wanted to write for, and it led him to you. and he didn’t have time to think about anybody else, let alone plot their demise. soonyoung was occupied by you, your smile, your laugh, your scent, the way you made him feel normal—the way you made him feel at all, something he struggled with since his accident as a child. and once he actually had you? it was over. he knew there was no possible way he’d ever be able to let go of you ever again.

and the killing just… stopped. with you, he learned how to make friends—made a ton of them. he learned to enjoy other people and their company. he learned how to love, even if it sometimes made him want to plunge a knife into his own stomach. but he did it for you because he adored you, and nothing was more important than you.

so no, he didn’t think he had a control issue. it was largely easy minding his own business and refraining from stabbing men left and right when he had you next to him.

but then, you started this stupid fucking job. you met jay and all his little cronies, and soonyoung realized it wasn’t a matter of his control; it was a matter of your safety and happiness. because now that you were the center of his universe, you two were one. if someone hurt you, they were hurting him.

and the way he sees it, his only job is to make sure no one hurts him. no one messes with what’s his.

it’s not about control. he has none now. it’s about you.

by the time you finish telling him everything that happened that day, he has a strange calmness about him he hasn’t felt since before you. he can’t do anything but stare blankly forward, watching as employees of the studio walk to their cars and pull away.

“i’m so over it,” you grunt, having passed from sad to angry fairly quickly. “i don’t think i can do this anymore, soonie. i know money would be tight and i don’t want to put that stress on us but—”

“no, don’t be silly,” he says, feeling like he’s on autopilot. “please quit, baby. i’ve wanted you to quit since the first day; i just… didn’t want to be that boyfriend.” he means every word and yet, he can’t feel any of them as they leave his mouth. “we’ll figure it out. please quit.”

there’s a heavy silence between the lines until you sigh deeply. “okay, love. i will. i’ll do it.”

he thinks he should feel relieved. he doesn’t and he knows he won’t until he kills them. “yeah? you will?” he asks, hoping he sounds excited enough. “you promise?”

your smile is loud and clear as you speak. “yes, i promise, soonie. i’m going to march in there tomorrow and quit without notice, and i’ll tell them i hope they all drop dead—no!”

you gasp and correct yourself.

“i’ll tell them i hope the prank call killer comes for them just like they did for jay!”

soonyoung feels something then. he doesn’t know what; he can’t define it, but it quickly grows into something bigger the more you speak. it pulls both his spirits and the corners of his lips up. it kisses him and fills him with light. it makes him feel alive, more than a shell for a soul he isn’t even sure he has.

“i don’t even know if any of them realize what really happened,” you think aloud before sighing like you’re daydreaming. “ugh, what i wouldn’t pay to see them on the news like that. ‘grisliest murders since prank call killings plague corporate hell’! that would be nice, huh?”

soonyoung smirks. that, he can deliver.

“yeah, baby. it would. a headline like that… i’d die happy.”

“me too,” you agree before telling him: “no one gets me like you do, soonie.”

his heart soars.

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

after he’s done gagging howard—so tightly, the fabric is cutting into his skin, a punishment for the earlier kick to the head—hoshi stands in front of the two men, leaning up against the pool table and watching them.

they both have cuts and bruises on their faces, from the struggle to get them into the dining chairs, but hoshi’s knife is still nowhere in sight.

HOSHI (begins mindlessly and slowly pacing in front of them) i bet you want to ask me who i am… what i want… why i’m doing this, right?

howard glares at him but chris is already crying.

HOSHI and usually, i’d entertain the questions because prolonging the hope that you’re going to survive makes this more fun for me, but… (stops facing away from them) i’m tired. and i think i’m beyond having fun tonight. (turns head toward them and chris flinches at the mask) i think… (fully turns toward them with hunting knife in hand, catching the light) i just want to wipe you two off the face of this earth and be done with it.

howard’s glare falters and chris urinates on himself. hoshi snorts.

HOSHI (walks up to chris, who cringes away from him) chris, right? (leans down so chris is face to face with his mask) i asked you a question.

chris nods obediently and quickly, gag soaked in his own tears.

HOSHI so you’re the one who called my girl a bitch, hm? (chris frowns but he doesn’t seem to know exactly who hoshi is yet) called her a bitch in front of the whole office… told her she’d be better sucking your dick under the desk than trying to assign you work?

howard’s eyes widen as he realizes exactly who hoshi is talking about. chris starts sobbing loudly, begging for his life incoherently through the gag.

HOSHI (looks down at chris’s soiled lap, points his knife at his crotch) you want her to suck this dick?

chris’s begging becomes more desperate, thrashing in his seat as he realizes what’s about to happen.

HOSHI (looks up at chris briefly and huffs a single laugh) what dick?

he shoves his knife into chris’s crotch. chris screams in muffled agony and howard starts shrieking and flailing in an attempt to scoot his chair away from the other two.

camera is focused on hoshi’s upper half and audience can see his arm jerking quickly back and forth as chris’s screams continue and howard finally starts crying. then, there’s a dull thud on the floor, and hoshi straightens back up and takes a step away, knife disappearing in his robes as he tilts his head and views his work.

HOSHI looks like there isn’t a dick to suck there, chris. shame.

chris’s wailing continues as hoshi looks to howard now, who begins shaking his head and crying through his gag.

HOSHI and you, you annoying little fuck. (crouches in front of howard) it wasn’t enough that you’re making her life a living hell, you wanted to piss me off even more and kick me in the head, huh?

hoshi rips his mask off, revealing his face to howard. there’s already a bruise spreading across the top of his left cheek. he smirks.

HOSHI my name is hoshi, if you’re wondering. and yeah. i’m her boyfriend. and as her boyfriend, she tells me all kinds of things. i’m sure you can imagine.

he stands up and walks back to the pool table, resting his mask against the felt before turning, leaning up against it once more, and crossing his arms.

HOSHI and today, she had a lot to tell me. she told me that jake’s two closest idiot friends were trying to continue his legacy as biggest asshole in the office. do you know how jake died, howard? won’t bother asking mr. no-dick, over there. seems busy.

camera goes to chris, who keeps fading in and out of consciousness, face soaked with sweat, tears, and drool slipping out of his open mouth.

HOSHI no guesses? (a gagged howard looks at him incredulously) okay, fine, fine, i’ll tell you. i killed him.

even though his tone sounds prideful as he speaks, his face is blank. he stares at howard with soulless eyes, and it unnerves him further.

HOSHI i snuck into his apartment while he was out drinking with you guys. (howard makes a noise of surprise) yeah, that’s right. you two were the last people to see that moron alive. i should probably thank you. (tilts his head up at the ceiling like he’s reliving the memory) his inebriated state made it a lot easier to tease and kill him. not a lot of fight in that one. surprising, don’t you think? (head remains tilted at ceiling, but eyes flash down to meet howard’s) that someone who tormented a woman’s life the way he did would die so easily… so quietly… so… pathetically.

chris regains consciousness and starts screaming and sobbing again, head hung over where his member used to be

HOSHI (brings his head down and looks at chris now) how will you two die? (eyes slide over to howard) will you beg for your life the way jake did? will you… offer me meaningless apologies and promises? will you… tell me that you’ll give me whatever i want?

he brings out his knife again and wipes it against howard’s pool table, smearing chris’s blood against the green felt. he inspects it like he’s making sure it’s sharp enough. camera focuses on hoshi’s reflection in the blade.

HOSHI (shrugs, puts knife down) i guess we’ll see in a few moments—how similar you are to jake. i will say, (pushes off the pool table, taking his mask with him) you two seem to be even worse than that deadbeat. do you agree, chris?

chris screams at the mere mention of his name, convulsing as hoshi walks closer to both of them. he stops just a couple of steps away from them, right in between the two.

HOSHI jake was a demeaning, narcissistic misogynist. and i tore him wide fucking open. let his intestines spill all over his own floor. made his living room a shallow sea of red.

both howard and chris beg through their gags.

HOSHI can you imagine what i’ll do to you if i think you’re even worse? (puts his mask back on and looks at howard) can you imagine what i’ll do to the man who told the whole office that he was gonna fuck the ambition and fight out of my girl, whether she liked it or not? what do you think i’ll do to that man if i made a massacre out of the dumbass who said a few mean things?

howard desperately shrieks excuses against his gag, no success in saying even one understandable word.

HOSHI (sighs like he’s come to a decision) yeah, i’m beyond having fun tonight. (quickly slashes chris’s throat, shallow enough that it will take a long time for him to bleed out. howard screams) at least with him. but with you? (crouches in front of howard again) the night has only started for you, howard.

IN THEIR HOME

TV NEWS ANCHOR authorities are doing their best to calm increasingly panicked citizens as fears that a serial killer is rampant on our streets spread. last week, 29-year-old jake lee was found brutally murdered in his downtown apartment (camera view switches to hoshi’s girlfriend as she tidies up around their living room. she looks pleased upon hearing that sentence), stabbed multiple times. last night, police answered multiple calls to 911 reporting the screams of a man in their high-rise apartment.

she stops tidying, turning to look at the news broadcast from where she stands. her eyes are wide and her mouth hangs open in surprise.

TV NEWS ANCHOR upon entering, they found 27-year-old howard wang and 25-year-old chris vu’s bodies in the former’s apartment. authorities have not yet released details of the crime, but sources report that the nature of their deaths is comparable to that of jake lee’s. we have maya on the scene, reporting.

the tv turns off as she sinks into the couch, obviously in a dazed shock. the camera focuses on her from straight ahead, slowly zooming in on her for several, silent seconds until only the lower half of her face is visible. after a few more moments, she smiles.

you watch soonyoung carefully as he washes the dishes, something he insisted on doing since you cooked tonight. you think it’s the least you can do for the sole earner of the household now that you’re unemployed, but he refused to let you do it yourself.

from where you stand, you have a clear view of his sharp profile. the bruise he says he got from falling down the stairs at work earlier this week has become a deep purple, spreading across his cheekbone and toward his jawline. you suppose he could’ve gotten that in a fall. a fall that took place the same night hayden and charles were murdered. the same night you told him you wished jay’s killer would come for them next.

you want to say your boyfriend would never do something that insane. you want to say your boyfriend doesn’t have the kind of temperament required to commit vengeful crimes like these. but after almost ten years together, you think there have been enough signs to make you take pause.

soonyoung almost never got visibly jealous—never paid any attention to men who looked at you a little too long or sent the server to deliver you a drink. he was confident in his trust in you. it should’ve been comforting how unbothered he was by the attention you received, but sometimes, you felt offended that he wasn’t at least a little bit jealous.

these thoughts were vanquished immediately when one night, someone grabbed you at a bar. it wasn’t even inappropriate; the man just took you by your forearm and yanked you toward him in an attempt to keep you from getting crushed by a drunken patron who had zero spatial awareness.

you’ll never forget the rage you saw in soonyoung’s eyes when they landed on the stranger’s hold on your arm. he didn’t do anything—simply threw the hand off you and led you away, but the look stayed with you. it was a raw, all-consuming, unadulterated, and unchecked rage you don’t think you’ve ever seen with your own eyes before.

the kind of rage you think could be capable of murder, given the right circumstances.

it should’ve scared you. just like the idea of soonyoung murdering your coworkers one by one should scare you. but it didn’t, and it doesn’t now. exactly like back then, it gets you wetter faster than foreplay itself.

soonyoung turns the faucet off and wipes his hands on the towel. when he turns, he’s so startled to find you standing so close to him, he stumbles back.

“oh shit,” he breathes, laughing a little. “i didn’t realize you were so close. you move so quietly.” he notices the way you stare at him intently. like it’s second-nature, he wraps himself around you and pulls you into his chest. “what’s up, baby?”

“i want to try something,” you say softly, a little hesitantly.

you know what you’re about to ask for is depraved and worrisome and… inhumane. but you can’t bring yourself to care right now, not when your panties are this soaked at the thoughts flying wildly around your head.

“okay,” soonyoung says, laughing a little. “can you be more specific?”

“i want… to roleplay a little,” you say, gaze going down to soonyoung’s neck, then his chest. your fingers trace the edges and dips of his collarbones and his pecs.

his grip on you tightens. “is that right?” he says, smirking. “and who do you want us to pretend to be? are we strangers in a bar?”

you shake your head. “no, not strangers in a bar.”

“okay,” he acquiesces easily.

soonyoung is always eager to give you whatever you want, and it bolsters your confidence to ask this of him. he leans down to graze your ear with his lips.

“am i your sexy sidepiece you’re cheating on your boring ass husband with?” he whispers, running his hands down to your ass and gently squeezing, pressing your hips against his so you can feel him already hardening from this conversation alone.

you smile, eyes fluttering closed as he nips at your lobe. “nope, not that either.”

“tell me who you want me to be, and i’ll be whatever it is, baby.” he subtly grinds into you and you try not to moan.

“you promise you won’t judge me?” you whisper.

“i would never,” he promises, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck now.

“i want you to be him,” you say as he starts to bite and suck. “i want you to be the prank call killer.”

he completely freezes in your arms, mouth still against your skin. for a horrifying minute, you think you’ve crossed the line. of course soonyoung is going to think you’re a freak for asking something so debauched and immoral of him. you have little to no evidence that he would ever enjoy something like this.

you’re about to push him away and start groveling for forgiveness and promising to seek therapy, when he grabs you by the face with both hands and envelopes your lips roughly with his own. his kisses are hot and wet and his tongue is in your mouth before you can ask if this means “yes.”

he presses you up against the kitchen island, and you can feel his entire length against your thigh, fully hard now and begging to be inside you. you groan just thinking about it—thinking about the murderer that took your tormentors off the street fucking into you viciously and relentlessly.

“and who are you?” he asks, breaking away from the kiss and lifting you so that you’re sitting on the counter.

soonyoung’s voice is rough and raspy with desire you haven’t heard from him quite like this before, and you feel the wetness between your legs grow knowing he’s willing to do this for you.

“i’m exactly who i am right now,” you say, feeling a little shy, but when he moans at your words, you feel bold enough to be honest with your fantasy. “i’m your girlfriend,” you inform him, hands diving under his shirt and caressing the muscles there. “and you’re going around killing all the losers i fucking hate because you adore me so much.”

“fuck, you’re so goddamn hot,” he mutters as he takes both hands and rips your blouse open, buttons popping and fabric ripping. you gasp and he smirks at the sound, slipping the ruined piece of clothing off you. “shhh, don’t be scared, baby. you’re the one person in this world i would never hurt.”

the sentence undoes you.

“oh god,” you breathe, diving forward and capturing his lips again.

soonyoung makes quick work of your bra, throwing it somewhere behind him once it’s off. he massages your breast for a few moments before taking your nipple between his fingers and tugging.

you break the kiss to tilt your head back and groan, and he takes the opportunity to bite and suck at the space where your neck meets your shoulder.

“rougher,” you breathe. “c’mon, you’re a murderer.”

soonyoung laughs a little at that, his love bites turning into gentle pecks up and down your neck.

“and you think this killer… he’d be rough with you?”

your eyes blink open a few times, staring at the ceiling and losing yourself in thought. in the days following your colleagues’ deaths and your own resignation from work, you’ve had a lot of time to think—and touch—about this. when you envisioned soonyoung as your murderous protector, you saw him as vicious and wrathful and cruel. but when it came to you… his need was desperate and carnal, but always softer. gentler.

you realize it’s probably not so different from the way soonyoung already likes to fuck you: like you’re the only person in the world he cares about.

“how about…” soonyoung presses one last kiss to your neck before his hands are suddenly up your skirt. he pushes your panties aside and abruptly plunges his middle finger into your heat. your body jerks into his in response. “you let me take the lead here, and if you don’t like something, you just let me know, hm?”

every word you’ve ever known escapes you as he fucks you with just one finger, the wet sounds of your arousal embarrassingly loud as he moves in and out. his thumb lands on your clit when you let out a particularly filthy moan for him, and you lean back on your hands and open your legs wider for him for better access. he gives you another finger as reward.

“oh, soonie,” you breathe. “yes.”

“so warm, so wet,” he rasps, other hand landing on your chest and flicking your nipple. “so beautiful.”

“babe,” you whine, rolling your hips onto his fingers in frenzied movements. “tell me… tell me about—oh my god!”

“hm?” he hums before the sound of more fabric ripping fills the kitchen.

you frown and look down in time to see soonyoung bringing your panties to his nose. you have half a mind to scream at him to stop but his fingers are still inside you, rendering you absolutely speechless as he presses the lace against his face and inhales deeply. your instinct is to feel self conscious—to snap your legs closed and grab your ruined underwear back. but you watch as his eyes roll back into his head and his lips twitch up against the black lace, and you realize he loves it. he breathes in again, and this time, you feel the excitement it causes through his fingers. they move with renewed fervor, like they’re thanking you for the gift you’ve given soonyoung.

“smell so fucking delicious,” he all but growls as he balls the panties up and pockets them.

before you can say anything back, he’s bending down to let his tongue taste your clit briefly before pressing his thumb back against you. your hips jerk and you can’t help when your elbows give, making you collapse and lay all the way down on the counter.

his fingers pump in and out of you faster now, and he completely replaces his thumb with his tongue, guzzling and drinking you up so intensely, his face quickly becomes covered with the stickiness of you.

“taste perfect,” he moans into you, tongue lapping you up eagerly. “tastes like mine.”

it pushes you over the edge quickly, and your back is arching off the island counter as your orgasm seizes you. the room is filled with your boyfriend’s name as you ride out the pleasure on his fingers.

“what do you want me to tell you about?” soonyoung asks once you come down, thumb going back to your clit. he keeps his face close to your pussy as he speaks, nose occasionally slipping between your folds and inhaling as he does. “should i tell you about how i disembowelled that ugly, little douchebag, jay?”

your cunt spasms at the words and soonyoung huffs a laugh when he feels you clench around his fingers. he curls them inside you, easily finding the spongy spot he’s been purposely avoiding up until now. he slows his movements, rubbing you patiently and carefully.

you sigh at the sensation, unsure if it’s because you feel so good or because you’re frustrated he’s eased up.

“i ran my knife up his body until his bones wouldn’t let me butcher him any further,” he whispers, moving so that his mouth is over your stomach, tongue slipping out to trace patterns on your skin between words. “and i made him bleed, baby. fuck, i made him bleed so much.”

“soonie.”

“i made him bleed for looking at you, for breathing near you, for ever thinking he could make someone as perfect as you bend to his will,” he whispers, breath hot as it fans over your skin, fingers still working you to a second orgasm. “i painted his apartment red. and i made it hurt. i made sure to make it hurt. just… for… you.”

he pushes roughly at your spot as he says that last word, eliciting a lewd moan as the beginnings of your next orgasm start to settle over you. soonyoung smirks against your skin.

“as for charles, i cut his fucking cock off,” he tells you.

you gasp at that even though you know he’s just making shit up for the sake of roleplaying. still, you find it in yourself to hate how much you love the idea of soonyoung doing that to someone who told you to get on your knees and suck his dick. someone who wasn’t your boyfriend.

“he cried like a bitch,” he says, kissing your clit before straightening back up so he can properly watch you writhe under him. “cried all the way up until i slit his throat.”

you smile at soonyoung then, reaching for his free hand—the one not currently buried two fingers deep inside you—and bringing it over your tit and holding it there. he looks at you like you’re the reason he’s alive. like you’re the only good thing in the world.

he massages you, just as gently as he did when this first started.

“but my favorite…” he says, eyes heavy-lidded as he takes you in. all his. all the time. until the end of time.

he removes his hand from your chest and shoves his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to spring out. your hips immediately start to buck at the sight, but all soonyoung has to do is shake his head at you once for you to immediately stop moving. there’s something so demanding and powerful about his presence right now that you’re not willing to push the limits of his patience. the pleased look on his face makes your emptiness feel worth it. he takes himself in his fist, pumping a few times as he speaks.

“my favorite was hayden. do you know why, baby?” he asks, moaning when you start playing with your nipple and breathing his name. “can you imagine the shit i did to the loser who thought he could fuck what’s mine?”

“i am,” you sigh, nodding desperately. “i’m yours.”

soonyoung pumps even faster now, but his fingers never falter inside you, intent on getting you to another high. and it’s close. you can feel it building almost painfully in your lower abdomen.

“i cut that ugly tongue of his out of his fucking mouth,” he grunts. you clench hard around his fingers. “and i started chopping him to fucking pieces—”

“soonyoung, i’m going to cum!” you half-shout, twisting under him uncontrollably.

“i cut him up, and the entire time, i only thought of you,” he fucks into his fist harder as you start to lose yourself to your climax.

“soonyoung!”

“and i thought that i’d kill the entire fucking world if i had to… just to keep you mine.”

you cum harder than you ever have in your life, near-screaming as you squirt all over soonyoung’s hand. the feeling reaches every, single corner of your body, making you convulse with pleasure.

“holy shit,” you hear from somewhere above you.

you don’t have time to gather your senses, though, because immediately, your body is being dragged down to the edge of the counter until you’re flying right off it. your boyfriend catches you, standing you up and kissing you full on the lips as he shoves your skirt down enough for it to slip off you and pool at your feet. you take the opportunity to tug his shirt off too, hands all over his naked torso once it is.

“let me cum in you?” he asks without leaving your lips.

“god, please,” you whine, feeling the wetness soonyoung caused sliding down your thighs.

he wastes no time after that, turning you around so that your hips are flush against the kitchen counter. you feel the fabric of his sweatpants glide down the back of your thighs as he removes them, and that’s the last thing you remember before the darkness overcomes you.

your eyes squeeze shut as soonyoung slams into you in one go, giving you zero time to adjust as he starts to immediately rut into you from behind. it burns and hurts so delectably, having him stretch you like this. usually, he takes even more time than he did tonight, making his way up to four fingers sometimes, but having him fuck you like this—like if he waits even a second longer, it’ll be his ruin—it threatens to violently shove you into an abyss of pleasure you fear you’ll never get out of.

soonyoung makes sure to hold you up, one arm across your chest with his hand on your breast, the other on your neck, forcing you to tilt your head back and rest on his shoulder.

you feel his eyes on you, his breath fanning your cheek as his gaze rakes you top to bottom, and you know he looks like a god, but you can’t open your eyes to save your life right now. you think if you do, you might explode into a million little pieces, forever disappearing into the ether.

you feel his lips rest against your ear as he sloppily whispers, “do you like it? knowing i’d do anything for you?” his voice is hoarse as he fucks you rougher than he ever has, the debased sound of skin slapping against each other filling the kitchen. “that i’d kill anyone without a second thought if it meant keeping you forever?”

you moan loudly, eyes pathetically rolling when you attempt to open them. you give up, keeping them shut as you reach up and grab soonyoung’s hair. he groans as you tug.

“soonie,” you sigh, shoving your hips back to meet his and making him curse. “i love it. i love it so much.”

you don’t know that you’re playing a role anymore. the idea that soonyoung would do any of this for you is so titillating, you feel drunk off it.

“feel so safe with you,” you say in broken gasps, your boyfriend’s rhythm making it impossible to say more than two words smoothly. “know you’ll always protect me, soonie.”

soonyoung curses loudly and bites into your neck to keep from getting any louder. his hips snap to yours at an increasingly unforgivable pace.

“and i’ll always protect you too,” you tell him.

you don’t care if this is something you wouldn’t be able to double down on when his cock isn’t buried to the hilt inside of you; it feels like the right thing to say. it feels exactly like what you want to do for him too: everything and anything. just to keep him yours.

“i would do anything for you, soonie,” you whisper.

without warning, there’s a burst of warmth inside your cunt, and soonyoung’s hand briefly tightens against your throat before immediately relaxing again, nothing but his moans and your name taking up the air in the room. he comes inside you hard, hips gluing to your ass like he’s trying to keep every, tiny drop inside you.

the feeling of his dick pulsing against your walls, pushing his seed into you, claiming you as his—it pushes you to your third orgasm, a slow and rolling one, not as intense as the others, but impossibly more satisfying. because this one not only brings you pleasure and an endless well of love for soonyoung; it brings you clarity.

because as you finally open your eyes moments later, soonyoung whispering sweet affirmations, vows, and affections in your ear as he keeps his softening cock warm inside you, you realize with startling lucidity that it wasn’t just a little fantasy.

the idea of soonyoung covered in blood and gore on your behalf was the stuff made of your dreams—or, arguably, nightmares. the idea that you had someone who adored you so deeply, he would play god like that made your heart grow tenfold. and now that soonyoung has fucked the fantasy deep into places inside you you couldn’t reach, you didn’t have it in you to feel ashamed about it.

you’re happy those three are dead.

and you’ll be even happier when the rest of them are too.

🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

HOSHI (leaning forward on the table) what’s your favorite scary movie?

YOUR ALIAS hmmm… (she buys herself time by taking a sip of her coffee) maybe… “saw”? why? are you big on scary movies?

HOSHI (shrugs) i like ‘em. probably more than other genres, yeah. (laughs nervously) what, um, do you like about “saw”?

she looks at him like she’s endeared by his nervousness.

YOUR ALIAS i mean, it was a really lengthy and roundabout way of doing things, but i guess i just enjoyed the idea of someone delivering retribution to people who deserved it but escaped it, not that i agreed all the victims chosen should’ve been chosen at all. just enjoyed seeing a few assholes die.

HOSHI (nods slowly) you like karma.

YOUR ALIAS (pauses with coffee at lips. she nods, maintaining eye contact) i do. (sips coffee) what’s your favorite scary movie?

HOSHI i like any slasher movie with a good final girl. if i had to pick, i’d probably say “halloween.”

YOUR ALIAS ahh, laurie, the final girl of all final girls.

hoshi visibly lights up at the comment, smiling widely at her.

HOSHI you know more about horror than you let on.

she nods, smiling back.

YOUR ALIAS just a little. i wouldn’t say i’m knowledgeable but i’ve watched a lot of the classics at least once. i’d call it a green flag that you root for the final girls. laurie’s a good one.

HOSHI i’ll take it. (obviously pleased) but humor me. why is it a green flag?

YOUR ALIAS (shrugs) when done correctly, final girls are the perfect mix of vulnerability—

scene suddenly and almost startlingly flashes to memories of hoshi’s mother for a brief second, accompanied by what sounds like a loud gust of wind. the memories are happy ones between hoshi and his mom.

YOUR ALIAS —and strength—

the memories become times his mother endured his father’s beatings.

YOUR ALIAS —and don’t subscribe to traditional gender roles and ideals. i’m not a huge fan of some films making it so that a lot of final girls are, like… holier than thou virgins, but i think the trope has come a long way.

hoshi nods, seemingly satisfied with her answer. she laughs and adds:

YOUR ALIAS unless you like final girls because you like to see a woman struggling against a violent serial killer. then red flag.

hoshi forces a laugh and shakes his head, looking down at his coffee and tracing the mouth of his mug.

HOSHI no, no. definitely more in line with the first one. i, uh… (looks up at her and seems to search for something in her eyes. whatever it is, he finds it and has the strength to be vulnerable for the first time in his life) my dad was abusive. with my mom.

her face falls and reaches forward to hold hoshi’s hand. the feeling is foreign and odd but he lets her hold it, even curling his own fingers closed around hers.

YOUR ALIAS i’m so sorry.

HOSHI she made me get out. she forced me to leave and never come back so i don’t really know what happened to her. i guess i just hope she’s a final girl.

she takes her second hand and closes it over the top of his and rubs it comfortingly.

YOUR ALIAS she must have loved you so much. (hoshi visibly bristles at that but doesn’t pull away) to be able to give you a better chance at life even if it meant never seeing you again… she absolutely is the final girl.

HOSHI (smiles) i like the way you described it. vulnerability, strength.

YOUR ALIAS (smiles back) tell me more about her.

the two talk until the cafe closes and kicks them out, and the audience sees a montage of the couple going on their second date, third date, until they are moving in together, and planning a future together. hoshi is the happiest the audience has ever seen him, and it seems the side of him that kills has been quieted, though we know that to be untrue from the murders happening present-day.

the montage moves into a scene where she comes home from work in tears. hoshi consoles her, but eventually, that same blank stare we first saw after his head injury comes back.

once she’s asleep, hoshi visits a storage unit he rents a few miles away. he reels up the door, revealing just one trunk in the unit. he walks up to it and opens it.

inside, is a mask, a robe, and a knife.

sex with you after that night in the kitchen has become twice as intense as it ever used to be, and soonyoung knows it’s because a big part of him isn’t holding back anymore—he’s bringing his whole self into bed with you, not bothering to pretend he isn’t completely eviscerating anyone who even looks at you funny in his spare time.

he tells you everything you want to hear, which funnily enough, is just the truth.

two more deaths to add to the list at your office, and he tells you exactly how he did it. he tells you what they said, how they begged, how he made them pay with their lives. between all of that, he never forgets to tell you he would do it time and time and again for you. he would do anything for you. kill anyone for you.

and the way you moan and gasp and cum at his words every time without fail is so goddamn addicting, he thinks he might die whenever he’s not inside you.

it’s dangerous, he knows that. as you start to tell him more stories you didn’t bother to when you were still working there, the itch to go annihilate that entire office becomes overwhelming, and he knows if he doesn’t control it soon, it’s bound to draw unwanted attention; he doesn’t know how it hasn’t already, with five dead bodies—all on the same team at the same company.

so for a few weeks, he doesn’t do anything about the mental list of names he has in his head, letting the headlines and panic die down.

you go out interviewing for jobs, he goes to work, you both come home and fuck each other’s brains out, and he stifles the voice in his head telling him to go murder every last person on that team.

but then, you ask for something terrifying.

you’ve been exploring your kinks ever since you first asked him to roleplay, and you’ve found the things you like and dislike—all things he agrees with so far. you like being tied up, you like blindfolding him, you don’t like calling him daddy (he absolutely fucking hated trying that one), you loved when he spit in your mouth, and he loved when you spit in his.

and while he was open to all your suggestions, there were some things he hesitated with. you asked him to choke you and though he initially agreed, he couldn’t, immediately getting soft when he tried to. you asked him to degrade you—call you a bitch, a slut, a whore—and he figured it was your way of coming to terms with what you experienced at your nightmare of a job. that maybe if it came from someone you loved and felt safe with instead of the asshole in the next cubicle, you’d slowly chip away at your trauma. but he couldn’t do that either.

you always handled his rejections gracefully, assuring him that you could do missionary with zero kinks involved for the rest of your life, and you’d be “on your knees thanking him for blessing you with his dick either way.” and you do your best to prove that to him, taking kinks off the table for a while and seemingly giving him a break. the only thing that stays constant is the “roleplaying,” though that’s probably more at soonyoung’s insistence than anything else. the intimacy he experiences from being himself in bed with you—truly himself—is unparalleled.

until one night, you ask him to use a knife on you during sex, and the panic attack it incites—the first soonyoung has ever experienced—is so massive, you almost call 911. he calms down enough to convince you not to, and the rest of the night is spent in your arms as you cry and apologize profusely for suggesting something like that when you know how his parents raised him. he tries to find the strength to tell you it’s okay, and that he understands, and that there’s no harm in asking, but each time he tries, nothing comes out of his mouth. he spends that entire time staring at the wall, and for the very first time, he experiences it: an undeniable thirst to plunge his knife into someone.

soonyoung isn’t sure why, especially since he just suffered the most exhausting mental breakdown over the measly idea of even holding a knife anywhere near your vicinity. maybe it’s to take his mind off the gruesome, nauseating thoughts of his hunting knife sinking into your flesh—images that flooded his mind against his will the moment you asked that of him. maybe it’s a need to recalibrate his brain, like if he kills another one of your tormentors, it will remind him of his devotion to you.

whatever it is, it nags at him day and night for the rest of the week until he accepts it’s something he needs to give into, no matter how callous and unwise it might be. in an attempt to convince himself it’s okay, he says this will be the last one; regardless of the handful of names left, he’ll do this last one, and he’ll move on. as such, he makes his last victim the one person who could’ve put an end to all of this from the start: your boss.

daniel park is a man of routine, soonyoung learns over the next few weeks. he leaves his home at a sharp 7 a.m., stopping by the same coffeeshop near his obnoxiously large house in the suburbs. he gets to the office around 8 a.m., a full hour after he required you (and no one else) to be in the office when you were still his employee. now that you’re gone, park is usually the first of his team in the office. he locks himself up inside his corner office doing fuck all while everyone else does his work for eight hours. he leaves the office exactly at 4 p.m., and from there, he either goes out for dinner and drinks with his team (something you were never invited to), meets equally old and ugly buddies for drinks, or goes to a bar alone for drinks. either way, the man is drunk by 6 p.m. every day.

then, around 10 p.m., he’ll make his sorry way home—driving drunk while at it—and he’ll stumble into his home, paying no mind to his already sleeping wife, who took care of the home and their child the entire day with no help from him.

soonyoung decides to be reckless one more time. it’s his last one, anyway. he wants this one to matter. he wants this one to be the one you think about for the rest of your life—enough to hold you over even if he never kills again.

he waits for a night when park drinks alone, usually around wednesday or thursday, when he’s gotten tired of his team and wants time alone with whatever stupid thoughts he has. soonyoung watches him from a corner booth at the bar, knocking back whiskey after whiskey like they’re shots. and when he stumbles out of the establishment, he easily guides him to his own car instead of park’s with little protest from the drunk.

he drives him right back to the office building that took so much energy and life out of you, using his badge to get them into the floor. he’s patient with park, letting the man nod off for an hour as he ties him up and prepares for the rest of the night.

when park finally blinks his eyes open, soonyoung is fully dressed in his usual disguise and standing before him in the darkness, only the moonlight filtering in from the windows to his left illuminating his shape. the way your boss startles so violently is deeply satisfying, and it takes everything in soonyoung to refrain from laughing in his face. park jerks his limbs, horrified to find them tightly bound to his own chair, wheeled out of his office and brought to the front of the team floor, where park keeps a whiteboard for their daily stand-ups.

“good morning, sunshine,” soonyoung says from beneath his mask.

“who are you?! what kind of sick joke is this?!”

“none of you were raised with manners, huh?” he grumbles. “all of you skip straight to your stupid questions. why don’t any of you know how to greet a fellow human being?”

he stills in the seat. “‘all of us’?”

soonyoung nods slowly, taking his knife out of his robes, freshly cleaned and polished the way it is before and after every single death. he feels a jolt of dread twist in his stomach when he looks at the blade, picturing it buried in your stomach. he shakes his head to free himself of the thoughts, and thankfully, park doesn’t notice, too busy blabbering all kinds of questions.

“shhh, shhh!” soonyoung shushes him, waving his hands erratically. “quiet, shut up, i’m irritable tonight and if you piss me off on top of that, i’ll make this ten times slower than it needs to be.”

his mouth clamps shut at that and he presses himself back into his seat.

soonyoung usually pretends to inspect his knife at this point just to intimidate his victims, but he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t throw up looking at his own weapon right now, so he lets the arm holding it simply fall to his side.

“all of you,” he repeats. “jay… charles… hayden.” he walks to park slowly, menacingly. “leo, ian.”

your boss’s eyes widen as he hears all the names of his slain employees from the last several months.

“daniel,” soonyoung finishes his list. “you.”

“wh… what…?” he sputters, shaking his head in confusion. his words slur and this close, soonyoung can smell the alcohol on his breath even from under his mask. “you were actually targeting this office?!”

soongyoung scoffs. “well, yes. the only victims have been from this office.”

“b-but authorities! they said there have been a few others that could’ve been—”

park cuts himself off with his own scream as soonyoung’s knife pins his hand to the arm of his chair.

“oh my god!” he screams at the top of his lungs, entire body jerking against his restraints. “oh my god, you stabbed me! you fucking stabbed me! oh my god!”

“i told you to be quiet, right?” he reminds him. “are you going to be quiet… or not?”

your boss stops screaming, though his whimpering and sobbing is almost just as loud. he does his best not to look at his own hand like it helps him pretend it didn’t just happen. he stares up at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths.

“do you know what all of you have in common?” soonyoung asks.

“no,” park breathes, still blinking furiously at the ceiling.

“y/n,” he states easily. “that’s what you have in common.”

park’s eyes come down to soonyoung’s mask, wide and filled with tears.

“yeah, you know exactly why i’m here, don’t you?”

“i—i—” his mouth opens and closes several times before he says, “i’m sorry.”

“whatever for?” soonyoung asks sarcastically, pulling someone’s chair out from their cubicle.

he notices a light blanket on it, yanking it off and throwing it over his shoulder before he sits down. he slouches, bringing one ankle to rest up on his knee and cradling his chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest. he tilts his head in mock interest.

“for it all!” he shrieks. “i swear, i’m sorry, i know i should’ve done more! i’m sorry! i’m a fucking coward, okay?! please! i know what they did to her was horrible!”

“do you? know that?”

“yes, yes! i swear!”

“name them.”

“what?”

“if you can name everything they said and did to her,” soonyoung says, watching the way his blood drips from the armrest and stains the carpet below. “maybe i’ll make this quick. stab you in the heart and be done with it.”

“what?!” he protests. “what about you let me live?”

soonyoung scoffs exaggeratedly. “oh no, daniel. no. that’s cute, but no. the only way you’re coming out of this building is in a body bag. it really is just a matter of whether or not this will be quick and painless or… well, y’know… the alternative.”

he’s bluffing. he already knows exactly what he’s doing with park. he just likes giving him the illusion of control. when he rips it away from him, it’ll be all the more gratifying.

“you have a minute. i’d start listing if i were you.”

“they, uh, they bullied her!”

soonyoung rolls his eyes beneath his mask.

“they catcalled her! they took credit for her work! they made her do all of their reports! they, uh… they—”

“tick tock.”

“they made sexual jokes about her! talked shit about her during dinners! uh, they—um, they spread rumors about her!”

“okay,” soonyoung says, waving a hand and nodding. “good run.” park seems to sigh with relief. “how about you, though?”

“what?”

“how about you?” soonyoung repeats himself, and even though he’s still slouched casually in his seat, his change of tone makes your boss flinch. “what are some things you said and did to her?”

“i… i didn’t…”

“uh-uh,” he laughs, wagging a finger at him. “i already know everything, daniel. don’t try to lie to me.”

it’s another bluff. you told soonyoung you told him everything, but something about the way you said it never convinced him. he knew you were leaving something out, and if this was his last time with any of your vile colleagues, he might as well try to see what it was you were hiding.

“what’s it going to be, boss man? are we going slow or are we making it painless?”

“i passed her up for every promotion!” he shouts immediately, wincing when his enthusiasm jostles his hand against the knife. “she was the most qualified and i passed her up every time!”

soonyoung motions with his hand boredly. “okay… and?”

“i told her to suck it up! that boys will be boys! i told her if she wanted to move up, she needed to get used to it!”

soonyoung glares at him from beneath his mask.

“i—” he swallows hard, tears flowing down his face.

soonyoung sits up, sensing the revelation he’s waiting for on the horizon. he plants both feet on the ground, stands, and stalks over to park until he’s towering right over him. he whips the blanket off his shoulder, balling it in his fist before he rests his hands on your boss’s forearms and leans forward to meet his eyes, ignoring the way he gasps at the pain the movement causes.

“you what?” he asks calmly.

“i… oh god, i…” he swallows nothing again. “i’m sorry…”

“what are you sorry for, daniel?”

“i… i told her if she did want a promotion… she could do me some favors.”

soonyoung’s blood runs cold in his veins. that’s not something you ever mentioned to him, and he can imagine why. he wouldn’t have just gone on a murderous rampage; he would’ve blown this entire building up. he thinks he might break his own teeth from how hard he clenches his jaw. after a few moments, he forces himself to release the tension and open his mouth once more.

“what kind of favors, daniel?” he asks quietly.

“oh god, please don’t make me sa—SEXUAL!” he bellows when soonyoung presses a hand to the hilt of his knife, pushing down another inch. “SEXUAL FAVORS!”

“ah, there it is,” he grunts, nodding.

he stands back up. soonyoung unceremoniously yanks the knife out of park’s hand, flips it so that it’s blade up once more, and without hesitating, he brings the sharp side down on all four of park’s fingers. before the man has a chance to scream, he shoves the blanket into his open mouth, muffling any noise he planned on making.

“shhh,” soonyoung mutters almost soothingly. “shhh, you’re fine. it’s just a few fingers. you don’t need them where you’re going anyway.”

he pats park’s head condescendingly two times before hitting the same spot with the blunt end of his knife.

“you’re all just fucking assholes, aren’t you?” he asks as blood starts running down your boss’s temple. “is that on the job listing? ‘requirements: must be a misogynistic pervert’?”

he grabs a fistful of park’s hair, yanking back so that all he could see was the ceiling.

“i’m sure you know exactly what happened to the others,” soonyoung says, speaking so close to him, his mask presses up against the side of his face that isn’t bleeding. “i’m sure you know all about what i did to them.”

park sobs through the blanket, drool escaping the corners of his lips the harder he tries to speak through the makeshift gag.

“i bet you didn’t count on her having someone who adored her like this, did you?” he asks, voice low. “didn’t think someone would come punish you for hurting the person they love most in this stupid fucking world?”

“no. he didn’t.”

soonyoung freezes at the female voice that cuts through the floor from behind him. your boss starts to thrash with renewed hope that someone has caught him red-handed. his fist tightens around his hair, yanking to shut him up. painstakingly slowly, and without letting park go, soonyoung cranes his neck to look behind him, heart stopping when he sees you there, standing in the moonlight looking as breathtaking as ever.

he doesn’t dare say a word. under his mask, soonyoung frantically searches your face for any sign that you’ll run screaming from him, leaving him alone, never to see you again. he doesn’t find anything other than your usual, soft smile—“resting lovely face” he would call it on his especially sappy days.

you’ve pretended to be a murderer’s girlfriend dozens of times by now, but soonyoung had no reason to believe you thought any of it was real—that you suspected him of all the heinous crimes he’s committed for you. as you let the large bag hanging on your shoulder slip off and fall to the floor and you start walking toward them, he weighs his options.

he could run, but then what? leave you with a crime scene you’ll take the blame for? absolutely not. he could throw himself to the floor begging you for forgiveness, begging you to not turn him in but more importantly, begging you to stay with him. there’s a tiny, ugly voice that suggests he could also kill you. he shudders, shaking the thought away. if he resorted to that, he would have to follow right after. that had to be his last option.

you reach them, and soonyoung knows he’s run out of time. whatever you do or say next will dictate the rest of your lives.

when he forces himself to meet your gaze, though, he sees nothing there but absolute fondness and veneration. you rest a palm against his back as he continues leaning over your former boss.

“mr. park,” you say, turning your attention to the man bound to the chair now. soonyoung follows your gaze back to the man, who’s still being forced to stare at the ceiling. he releases his grip on him, allowing him to look at you. his eyes widen in what soonyoung suspects is fear. “nice to see you again under these circumstances. really nice.”

soonyoung feels his heart skip a beat. he straightens up to his full height now, eyes on you as you continue speaking. your hand snakes from his back to his arm, and down, down, down, until your fingers are intertwined with his.

“have you met my better half?” you ask him. “this is kwon soonyoung.”

he feels like his heart jumps into his throat at that moment, and he fights to keep from choking on nothing. you must feel the way he stills in your hold because you bring his gloved hand to your lips and kiss it gently.

your boss starts sobbing twice as hard, throwing what looks to be a restrained tantrum.

“i’m sorry,” you say, faking a wince. “you must have thought i was here to help you, huh?”

soonyoung’s mouth twists into what he’s sure is the largest, most insane smile he’s ever had the pleasure of smiling in his life. the adrenaline and dopamine that suddenly releases in his system makes him feel invincible in a way he never has before. because if you, the adoration of his goddamn life, know who and what he is and you still love him… then nothing will ever be able to stop him ever again. nothing stands between him and the entire world now.

“my bad,” you sigh. “i’m just here to watch you die.”

soonyoung takes that as his cue, lifting his knife toward park. but before he can do anything, your hand comes to his forearm, stopping him. he looks down at you, tilting his head in question. you look up and shake your head.

“i want to do it,” you whisper.

he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to talk to you while his mask is on. whatever it is, he can’t say anything as you try to take the knife in your own hand.

sensing his hesitation, you smile and nod. “you’ve done so much for me, soonie. will you let me be my own final girl now?”

without a second thought, the tension in his arm dissipates immediately, completely surrendering his weapon to you. you hold his knife in your hand, and seeing it in your grip demolishes whatever last walls he had up between the two of you. you stare down at it like you’re holding a relic, and it takes him a moment to realize you’re imagining the men he’s killed in your name with it.

he reaches out, wrapping his hand around yours and tightening your grip on the hilt. your gaze flick up to him and his other hand briefly caresses your cheek. your eyes flutter closed, smile widening for a short moment. when your eyes open, there’s a fire in them he’s seeing for the first time, and he knows that whoever he walks out of here with is going to be a completely different person than the one he woke up next to this morning.

you give him a small nod before turning away from his hold and facing the man who’s made your life a living hell this entire time.

soonyoung decides he doesn’t want to watch park’s face as the light leaves his eyes. instead, he walks around the chair behind him, holding it from behind to keep it still for you, his eyes trained on your face and only your face.

the smirk that graces it now is glorious, and it takes everything in him to keep from falling to his knees and kissing the ground you walk on.

“sorry, nothing personal,” you say, obviously reciting something he’s said to you before. “girls will be girls, right?”

soonyoung barely hears the muffled screams that follow. all he can hear is his heart singing as he watches the life, light, and joy this job stole from you come back to you all at once. he’s never been more in love. and he thinks he understands now. this. this is love.

it was clear to you that something was escalating inside soonyoung for the last few weeks, and you knew he was gearing up to commit his last crime—you were sure of it.

you had your suspicions when you asked him to roleplay with you, but it was the week after that you became confident in your intuition. the week after, when authorities finally released the circumstances under which hayden and charles died.

you shouldn’t have been surprised when you read the dirty talk soonyoung used to get you to cum over and over again practically word for word in the article that detailed their murders. there was no way he would have been able to know all this information before the public did, and lucky guesses were out of the question, especially when every, last thing he told you was listed.

after that, two more of your ex-coworkers died, ones that made particularly lewd comments at you, something you noticed angered soonyoung more intensely than any other kind of offense. it made you feel more flattered than it should have—how possessive and jealous he got because of these assholes who thought they had any kind of entitlement to you or your body.

soonyoung had ruined you for anybody else long before you knew this truth about him; he had no reason to feel jealous. still, it made you feel so special, and you didn’t stop to question the toxicity and unhealthiness of everything you’ve been feeling in the last weeks—in the last year.

for the first time in so long, you felt good and you felt safe, and you had no intentions of changing that. you’ve been all in on soonyoung since your first date. this changed nothing.

so as he started escalating, you started watching. instead of attending job interviews like you claimed to be, you were following him. most of the time, it was just to the writers’ room, but a few times a week, it was to watch him tailing your ex boss.

between following him around and snooping through his things, it didn’t take long for you to piece together what he was planning, and with how erratic soonyoung’s behavior had gotten since you made the stupid, thoughtless, grave mistake of suggesting knife play in the bedroom, you knew he was going to be prone to mistakes. so you started preparing right alongside him.

when his gear disappeared from the creaky floorboard he kept it hidden under, you knew it would be time to act soon. then, today, as your boyfriend kissed you goodbye in the morning, he told you not to wait up; the writers room was going to run late to meet deadlines for next week’s episode.

you’ll give it to him; soonyoung was a really good liar. after all, he has kept this secret from you for a good amount of time. and if he’s so comfortable doing this, you imagine it isn’t his first time killing either. who knows how long he’s been lying to you?

but now that you were looking for the signs, it was easy to tell. he maintained eye contact too well, like he was actively telling himself to refrain from looking away and seeming suspicious. he smiled a little too hard. offered one too many details if you asked a simple follow-up question.

“oh okay, what time do you think you’ll be home?”

“fuck, not sure, this episode has a lot of rewrites because one of the actors is throwing a bitch fit about his lines, and they want us back at the drawing board—well, writing board—with, like, three new options for this asshole by tomorrow morning, so. who knows how long that will take. i’ll text you when i’m on my way, though, okay? i love you.”

as soon as he was out the door, you were moving.

you made a trip to your old workplace under the guise of needing a copy of your last paystub from HR, which happened to work right next to your team. while you were there, you made sure you were seen on every camera in the lobby, made sure to say hi to several people—even if some of those people were assholes you wish soonyoung would waste too. you allowed stray hairs to fall from your travel hairbrush. you scratched wildly at your skin. you coughed openly. you gave a valid and proper excuse for your DNA—and trace amounts of soonyoung’s DNA—to end up here other than for a murder.

and when no one was looking, you helped yourself to a jay minion’s cubicle while he was away from it. alex. you pocketed his badge, which he had a bad habit of walking around without, and you scheduled an email from his account addressed to your former boss, knowing full well that a lazy idiot like him would not be noticing a scheduled message in his account.

if soonyoung couldn’t kill him, life in prison was a good alternative.

once you were done with your part, you went home, dropped your phone off so that it couldn’t be tracked anywhere but home tonight, and packed a bag of extra clothes. then, you followed your doting boyfriend from his job, and once you saw him tuck your drunken former boss into his own car, you raced back to the office, where you were 99.9 percent sure he would be bringing him back. you scanned in using alex’s badge through the backdoor, where there were no cameras, you made your way to your team’s floor, and you waited.

not long after, when a tall, lean person dressed in the gear you’d found under your boyfriend’s creaky floorboard, walked onto the floor, practically carrying park on his shoulder, it took everything to keep from shrieking and giggling at how well you knew your own boyfriend.

you watched as he methodically and carefully tied him to his chair, rolled him to the exact spot he wanted him. you watched as he polished an already incredibly clean knife, shuddering uncomfortably a few times as he did. you wondered if it still bothered him—taking life. if maybe he wasn’t as seasoned as you thought, and the act still took something precious from him.

you hated the idea that something as generous as ridding the world of vermin like your ex-teammates could affect soonyoung like that.

what you hated even more was how turned on you were watching as he walked back and forth in his disguise, the muscles of his arms and his back still prominent through the tattered robes. but before you could debate jumping out of the shadows and convincing him to just leave and go home with you so you could ride him until dawn, your dumbass boss was waking up again.

you honestly didn’t know when you were supposed to step out, but the more soonyoung’s love for you shown—the clearer he made it that he truly would do anything for you, the less you cared about staying hidden.

and before you knew it, you were holding soonyoung’s very own knife, standing in front of a very dead daniel park, covered in his blood and laughing so hard, you thought maybe your nervous system was broken. but when the giggles died down and you didn’t burst into tears the way you expected you would, you knew you were perfectly fine. better than fine. you were thrilled.

“finally,” you breathe, reaching forward to yank the blanket out of your boss’s mouth, wiping the knife on a cleaner corner. “here you go.”

you hand it over hilt first toward your boyfriend, who’s still standing behind park, splatters of blood all over him too. he gently takes the weapon from you, tucking it somewhere within his robes. you watch him carefully, wondering what his face looks like, wondering what he’s thinking. instead, all you get is that permanent scream on his mask as it stares blankly back at you.

does he think i’m crazy? does it turn him off? would he rather be the one doing the saving?

you don’t voice any of your insecurities, though. you’re far too happy and relieved to ruin this moment with those thoughts. instead, you take the blanket you’re still holding and you dip it in one of park’s stab wounds until it’s soaked in his blood. you walk to the whiteboard behind his body and swipe at it in broad strokes, stepping back to view your work when you’re done.

you look back to your boyfriend to see him looking at the whiteboard.

FINAL

not for park or any of the other men soonyoung obliterated like a hurricane passing through, but for you. the final person standing, with the help of a man who loved you enough to make sure it ended this way. you hope he gets it and that he’s appreciating it the way you are.

while he continues staring at the board, you take the time to reach into the pocket of park’s jacket, fishing his phone out of it. because he treated you like his executive assistant, you knew most of his passwords, and you were banking on it being the same.

when his phone unlocks, you breathe a sigh of relief. you navigate to his email, pleased to find alex’s email in his inbox just like you planned for it to be.

to: [email protected] from: [email protected] subject: ! emergency situation, action needed body: mr. park, we have a dire situation at the office that requires your attention. a few of the other team members and i will be working late into the night to remedy this; please stop by the office when you can to discuss next steps.

once you’re sure the message is marked read, you wipe the phone free of your prints with the blanket before tucking it back into his pocket. when you’re done, you let the blanket fall to the ground, eyes going back to your boyfriend, whose gaze is back on you now.

soonyoung still doesn’t say anything, simply walking to the duffle he left in the far corner. he removes his shoes, replacing them with a disposable shoe cover on each foot, before removing yours and doing the same for you, an act that feels so intimate, you’re tempted to take him right here, in the middle of this gore, effectively ruining all your efforts to keep him from getting caught.

he puts the shoes into spare trash bags and tucks them into his duffle before standing and holding his hand out for you to take. your fears that he’s mad you came here dissolve, and you take his gloved hand in yours.

he leads you away, picking up your own bag off the floor for you as you pass it. you think he’s leading you out of the building, but instead, you both end up in the showers, an amenity usually meant for commuters or people who went to the gym and worked out in the middle of their work day.

soonyoung sets both of your bags down on one of the benches in the locker room before nodding toward the showers. you follow him wordlessly, heat pooling in your stomach as you do.

he leads you into a shower stall, turning on the hot water and letting the water hit the both of you fully clothed. he turns around to face you, his mask wet with blood and water as it stares down at you. you hesitantly lift a hand up to rest on the jaw of it. you look up into the black holes of its eyes, hoping he understands you’re asking if you can remove it for him.

when he doesn’t stop you, you push up on the mask, lifting it completely off his head. the first thing you notice is that soonyoung’s platinum blonde hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, all of his visible skin slick with it. and when you meet his eyes, you’re immediately rooted to the spot, robbed of all air. his pupils are blown, making his eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them as they bore into yours. his mouth is parted, chest heaving as he breathes like he’s been running for hours.

without giving you a chance to think of your next move, he grabs the mask and chucks it somewhere behind you before wrapping his hand around the back of your neck and roughly pulling you to him. he cranes down to envelope your lips with his, wasting no time parting them and fervently shoving his tongue into your mouth.

it doesn’t take long for him to get the both of you naked; you’re not even really sure when it happens, but suddenly, he’s kicking your soiled clothes away from the both of you, his hands going from cradling your face to softly running across your shoulders, your back, your ass, and you realize he’s rinsing the death off of you, all while peppering you with feather light kisses as he does.

you hang your head, resting it against his shoulder as you watch red swirl down the drain, until it’s pink, until it’s clear. you sigh deeply at the sensation of the water pelting your skin and soonyoung’s fingertips dancing across every part of you. he presses his erection in between your thighs at the sound of your breath, and it quickly turns into a moan.

you reach to grip his cock in your hand, fisting it tightly. his breath hitches, and you decide it’s time to thank him for everything he’s done for you these last few months. you lift your head up off his shoulder and reach up to press your lips to his once more, gentle and chaste.

“thank you,” you whisper. he runs a hand across his face to get water out of his eyes.

“for what?” he asks, voice husky around the first words he’s said to you since the night started.

“for loving me like this,” you answer, pumping your first slowly as you speak. “for doing all of this for me… and for letting me be a part of it too.”

soonyoung closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, nothing but the sound of the water and his labored breaths as you stroke him filling the room.

“i love you, y/n,” he says in a voice you haven’t heard from him before. it sounds small, vulnerable, and emotional, and when he opens his eyes, you aren’t surprised to see tears gathered there. “i love you so fucking much.”

you don’t think he’s ever said that to you like this. getting him to even use the word “love” was like pulling teeth in the beginning of your relationship. now, he says it like he’s free of the trauma he’s tied to the word over the years of his childhood. you tiptoe to kiss the tears out of his eyes.

“i love you,” you return. “and i adore you. forever. now… let me show you.”

you kiss every bit of skin you can on your way down his body, until you’re on your knees. you look up at him one, last time, melting a little at the affection he stares at you with.

“don’t hold back, okay?”

he curses under his breath before nodding. he reaches one arm across the shower, planting a palm on the wall behind you to steady himself as you take his entire length into your mouth.

“fuck.”

you hollow your cheeks as you slide away, tongue swirling on the underside of his shaft and dragging across the veins of his cock. you wrap one hand at the base tightly before sliding him back in, knowing that taking his entire monster length wasn’t going to be sustainable for you or your throat. you blow him like this—pumping and twisting at the bottom of his shaft with your hand, your other one massaging his balls—for only a few moments before soonyoung absolutely loses it.

and ever eager to please you, he follows your instructions and holds nothing back. he palms the back of your head with his free hand and without warning, starts fucking into your mouth roughly. tears stream down your face, mixing with the hot water of the shower and the precum leaking out of soonyoung. the back of your throat starts to burn early on, but still, you want more.

your hands grab soonyoung’s ass, bringing him impossibly further into your throat on every thrust. he groans loudly, cursing in between shouts of your name.

“y/n,” he breathes, slowing his movements after a few minutes until his hips stutter to a full stop. you frown, looking up at him when he pops his cock out of your mouth. “i don’t want to cum in your mouth, baby.”

“why not?” you ask dumbly.

he laughs, obviously not expecting the question. instead of answering, he pulls you up and onto your feet, steadying you when you realize they’ve fallen asleep from the lack of blood flow. he presses you against the wall, caging you in and pressing his thigh between your legs to keep you standing as you regain the feeling in your legs. you gasp when his quad rests against your clit.

“there are better places to cum,” he finally answers, just barely moving his thigh against you.

the tiny movement is enough to coax another moan out of you, though. his fingers come down to dive in between your folds and trace your slit teasingly back and forth, gathering your arousal. he brings his fingers up to his mouth, shamelessly taking them in and tasting the way he makes you feel. his eyes close as he savors the taste.

“mmm,” he hums fondly like your lust is a five star meal. he opens his eyes, smirking at the way you’re staring at him. “want to taste?”

you nod eagerly. at this point, you’d take whatever he wanted to give you. you reach forward to kiss him, but he pins your shoulder to the wall with a hand, making you squeak in surprise, and when his other hand comes up your neck and grabs your jaw, tilting it up toward him and forcing your mouth open, you realize what he means and what he wants.

you fight your own smirk as you open your mouth wider, letting your tongue hang out as far as it will go. he presses his cock against you at the sight, cursing before he takes your face in both his hands, leans over you, and aims, spitting straight into your mouth. you whine pathetically when you feel it hit the back of your throat, immediately grasping both his arms and grinding down against his thigh while it’s still pressed between your legs.

“soonie, please,” you mewl, desperately and messily grabbing at whatever you can at this point just to get him closer to getting inside you, including his hair, his neck, his arms, his hips—anything.

he grabs your wrists when you won’t stop, holding them tightly in between your bodies with one hand, the other cupping your ass and guiding one leg to wrap around his waist, the tip of his cock already teasing your hole.

“behave,” he hisses, squeezing your wrists until they hurt. you don’t dare wriggle against his hold. “are you going to be good?” you nod. he immediately releases you, guiding one hand to his shoulder to keep yourself steady.

when both of your hands are wrapped around his shoulders, he takes your other leg and wraps it around his waist too, lifting you up and pinning you between him and the wall. he kisses you harshly and recklessly, tongue wrapping itself around yours as his cock starts to push into you.

he doesn’t wait until he’s fully buried in you the way he usually does. no, tonight, he can’t seem to help himself when he breaks away from you to remind you: “you’re mine.”

you nod, resting your head back against the wall, nails digging into his shoulders as he pushes in further. “yours,” you gasp. “always.”

“god, i love you,” he says for the third time tonight, making the burn feel all the better as he bottoms out. “you’re so perfect,” he breathes, adjusting to the feeling of your cunt around him. “so fucking tight.”

“fuck me, baby” is all you have the energy to whisper. and he delivers.

he easily bounces you on his dick in time with his own thrusts, the corded muscles of his arms hard, wet, and glistening as he holds you up against the wall. you don’t care how loud you are, letting your screams out as they come. at this point, you’re not sure you even care if the police catch you like this and arrest you.

all that matters is how soonyoung feels inside of you, how his mouth burns everywhere they press against you, how his fingertips dig into your flesh so hard, you think it’ll bruise. he rests his forehead against yours, holding unwavering eye contact with you as he fucks you like it’s simultaneously the first and last time.

“marry me,” he whispers suddenly. “fuck. marry me, y/n.”

you gasp as he thrusts hard, tip kissing your cervix. “a-are you s-seriously asking right now?”

he smirks, kissing you quickly before thrusting even faster and harder. the sounds that come out of your mouth are a pitch higher and nastier. “i’ve had a ring for a year. i can’t fucking wait anymore. marry me. god, please marry me.”

you don’t have to think twice. “yes,” you half moan. “yes, soonyoung. yes, i’ll—fuck! i’ll marry you!”

the thought does something to the both of you at the same, exact time, and you’re both shouting warnings at each other as you reach your highs. his teeth sink into your collarbone as he comes inside you, your fist closing around the hair at the nape of his neck as you reach your own climax on his dick too.

you stay in the same position for a few moments, both trying and failing to catch your breaths.

when you finally do, you tap soonyoung’s shoulder to let you down, but he refuses, stubbornly staying inside of you. you frown.

“what are you doing? we should shower and leave,” you point out, remembering there’s an incredibly deceased man outside.

“the longer i stay here, the longer my cum stays inside you, and the greater the chances i just got you pregnant,” he says cheekily.

you glare at him. “soonyoung, i’m on birth control.”

he glares right back.

“okay, fine,” you relent, laughing. the sensation makes soonyoung wince as you clench around his overstimulated cock a little. “kinda hot, though—you wanting to get me pregnant.”

he raises an eyebrow at you. “oh? another kink of yours?”

you blush, knowing you’ve been somewhat of a sex fiend since discovering your fantasy of having a murderous boyfriend—your reality now, you suppose. “maybe,” you murmur.

soonyong grins, kissing the pout away from your lips. “good. i’m going to keep trying.”

“okay, well, maybe we should try when we’re not in active danger of going to prison for life?”

“right.”

you both shower quickly, bagging the soiled clothes and changing into the outfits you both packed separately. you watch in awe as soonyoung takes out a blacklight and some kind of cleaning agent to get rid of any blood you both tracked into the shower. most of the evidence, it turns out, is right there in the stall, where his cum leaked out of you.

when he’s done cleaning, you both head to your cars, each parked in different lots, agreeing to meet at home after you pick up drive-thru dinner and he goes back to work to pick up his phone. and when you do get home, you find that soonyoung beat you there, the apartment dark save for a handful of candles. he’s on one knee when you enter, a small box open and turned toward you, the ring he claimed he got a year ago right there, staring you in the face.

“i love you,” he says. “i’ll spend the rest of my days loving you the way you deserve to be. adoring you with everything i have. will you allow me the honor of doing that as your husband?”

you don’t know how many times you scream yes at him as you drop the bags of fast food and throw yourself into his arms, the two of you collapsing into a pile of giggles and kisses.

TOP STORY • 2 MIN READ

Copycat serial killer sentenced to life in prison on three counts of torture, six counts of first degree murder

By Gale Weathers

Police investigating the torture and murder of Daniel Park, senior vice president of marketing at Loomis, Inc. two years ago.

Two years after a spree of murders rocked the local community, Alex Cho, former Loomis, Inc. employee, has been sentenced to life in prison, despite pleading not guilty to all charges.

Dubbed the "copycat prank call killer" for the similarities in mutilation amongst victims, Cho was found guilty on all counts of torture and first degree murder for the deaths of six fellow Loomis, Inc. employees, including his boss, Daniel Park, former senior vice president of marketing. Arrested just days after Park's murder, Cho was the authorities' main suspect since day one, according to a statement made by Police Chief Macher following the sentencing.

"Cho's name was on the board since the tragic murder of our first victim, Jay Lang," said Macher, "but as his spree escalated and became more frenzied, he became careless. The evidence against him became insurmountable after the death of Daniel Park."

Though evidence left behind by Cho at the previous murders still has not been disclosed by authorities to this day, his involvement in Park's torture and murder is clear. On the night of Park's death, Cho lured him to the office after-hours under the guise of a work emergency. Once there, Cho ambushed and tortured his boss before stabbing him almost 30 times and leaving his body to be found by other employees the next morning.

Police were able to arrest Cho early on, thanks to his email trail and the use of his badge at the Loomis, Inc. headquarters, just minutes before Park entered the building himself.

When asked about the sentencing of their former employee, a Loomis, Inc. representative told TOP STORY:

"Even two years on, we continue to mourn our tragically lost employees. As such, Loomis offers all our associates ongoing mental health resources and grief counseling. We also honor these victims with annual donations to various campaigns, including cancer research, LGBT support, and anti-bullying—all causes our former SVP of marketing Daniel Park championed. As for the sentenced individual, Loomis declines to comment, but ensures you that we are taking extra precautions and measures to vet all new employees, with annual mental evaluations of all existing employees. We are committed to the safety of our people, our clients, and all of our stakeholders."

As far as his "copycat" reputation goes, Cho denies drawing inspiration from the "prank call killer," though he continues to deny his involvement in the crimes at all. As of the publication of this article, the "prank call killer" remains an at-large, inactive serial killer, with the last victim dating back over 10 years ago.

Cho will be transferred to a maximum state prison later this month, where he will serve his life sentence with no chance of parole.

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🎞️ a portion from an early draft of the script for cult classic horror movie, “adoration,” by renowned screenwriter kwon soonyoung

HOSHI (clicks out of video news story of andrew's arrest) i can't believe you did all that for me.

YOUR ALIAS (smiles, scratching his scalp comfortingly with her left hand, eyes admiring the ring on her finger as she does) i told you, i would do anything for you. you protect me, i protect you, right?

HOSHI (smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to hers) always.

fades into black. credits roll.

...

POST-CREDITS SCENE

a long while later, audience finds hoshi and his wife in the kitchen of a much larger home now, seemingly as in love and as playful as they always were. they are interrupted by their teen daughter running into the room, with her backpack still on, screaming and crying. both of them immediately tend to her.

YOUR ALIAS baby, what's wrong? what happened?

DAUGHTER (shrieks) it's tiffany! she's going around telling everybody i'm sleeping with the entire baseball team! i've never even had my first kiss and she knows that!

hoshi stills, face becoming eerily blank. you both exchange a look.

YOUR ALIAS you're only 15... why on earth are they talking about those kinds of things?

DAUGHTER (throws mom an incredulous look) all of them have already lost their virginities, mom!

YOUR ALIAS (pinching the bridge of her nose) dear god.

DAUGHTER she gave my number to a bunch of dudes and now they're calling and texting and blowing up my phone asking me when i'm free to do... gross things! (wails)

YOUR ALIAS we'll change your number, baby, don't worry. and i'll meet with your principal and make sure she knows we won't tolerate this behavior, okay? are you alright if i talk to tiffany's mom?

DAUGHTER no, please don't, she's so vindictive. i know it'll just get worse.

hoshi exhales slowly.

HOSHI okay, we won't do anything you aren't comfortable with, but... you're also not going to let her treat you like that, do you hear me?

it's clear their daughter is a daddy's girl when her crying immediately stops and she nods.

HOSHI no one hurts you, understand?

YOUR ALIAS nobody.

DAUGHTER (whispers, still sniffling) nobody.

HOSHI if you won't let us talk to tiffany's parents, we're going to have to show you how to defend yourself, baby. how to stand up for yourself.

YOUR ALIAS (smiles) your daddy is really good at that. you'll let him help, right? (daughter nods) good, go get cleaned up and i'll order whatever takeout you want.

DAUGHTER (immediately) thai.

YOUR ALIAS thai it is. go on.

their daughter retreats from the kitchen, still sniffling as she goes up to her bedroom.

YOUR ALIAS we aren't going to stoop so low as to kill a teenager, are we?

HOSHI (snorts, wraps one arm around her waist) no, we aren't. but kids like that only learn behavior like that from one place.

YOUR ALIAS their parents.

HOSHI mhm.

YOUR ALIAS you have the key to the storage unit?

HOSHI mhm. (plants one kiss on her cheek before grinning and nodding to the front door) i'll drive.

cuts to black with the sound of a piercing scream.

a/n: credit for the news story photo goes to unsplash. all other photos taken from pinterest, ctto. okay bye, i don't want to talk about how crazy i feel LMFAO.

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mariasont · 1 year ago

Note

I'm so glad you love writing for bimbo reader x Hotch because i love READING them so much 💕

What about reader getting jealous a witness or unsub is flirting with Hotch? Kinda like how the prostitutes are always flirting with Reid but this time it's Hotch getting all awkward and reader misreading it and thinking he's interested back?

Love your stuff!

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY - A.H

a/n: hi so im so glad you love bimbo reader 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 that literally makes me so happy, thank you sm for requesting i hope you like that <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: reader being jelly, kind of out of character for bimbo reader honestly, she’s also a little flustered in this fic which also feels out of character but i kind of like it idk lmk what yall think

wc: 1.2k

The space between her hand and Hotch's bicep was dangerously narrow. She was saying something--something that was way flirtier than the situation required. Matter of fact than any situation required. Your pink nails, the same shade as your favorite bubblegum lip gloss, dug into the flesh of your palm, your lips forming a tight line as you fought the green jealousy that bubbled up like champagne.

It was fine. You were fine.

Until it wasn't.

She flashed a smile at Hotch, one that was undeniably pretty which only served to make your blood boil a degree hotter.

She was stunning, black hair, red lips, perfect skin. You loved yourself, obviously, but it was not in your character to deny that this woman was gorgeous by nature and she was edgeding her chair closer to him.

"Thank you so much for your help today, Agent Hotchner." Her voice had climbed a few pitches in comparison than when she was talking privately with you. "Is it okay if I give you my number, just in case I think of anything else?"

"Of course." Hotch was smiling-- no beaming--at the woman, reaching into his pocket to grab his business card.

Your lashes fluttered up and down is disbelief, jealously rolling off of you in category nine waves. You folded your hands on top of your skirt, cleaning and unclenching until you started to lose feeling in your fingertips.

You're fine, just take a deep breath. Hotch was simply being polite. That's it. But the rationalized thoughts in your head did not match the quicksand feeling in your stomach.

Unfortunately for you, showing and expressing your feelings in an appropriate manner had always been a struggle. Articulating when things were bothering you was a foreign language to you. The other side to this was you had no logical reason to feel the way you did. He was your boss, and you were his assistant. He wasn't your boyfriend. But that fine distinction did nothing to dampen the primal impulse to reach across the desk and drag the woman by her hair.

That was dramatic, really. It was unfair to project your ugly feelings onto her when in all honestly, in her position, you’d be doing the exact same.

As much as you loved your job and adored your boss, sometimes you wished you didn’t work for him so you could push the boundaries just a little bit when it came to flirting with him.

Thankfully, for the sake of your career, the woman gone before your rash instincts could manifest into action. You needed to get a grip and possibly go reapply your lipstick.

You spent the majority of the day, from that point, avoiding Hotch like the plague. You weren't quite equipped to sift through the emotional chaos brewing inside you, especially when your focus needed to be on getting your tasks done, not on who Hotch might be interested in. It didn't matter if he liked that woman. You could cope. Maybe.

When you did have to come into contact with him, you found yourself acting like a wounded animal. The sight of his face only served to replay that stupid smile he flashed at her. He was probably already in love, daydreaming about their shared life ahead. Their three kids, the white picket fence, maybe even a dog.

You flipped open your makeup mirror, dabbing powder on to your nose and forehead while mentally reminding yourself to pull it together and behave like the grown-up you were supposed to be.

No sooner had you left the bathroom had you crashed into something, legs betraying you as you lurched forward, nearly spiraling to the floor. Your hands shot out, closing around the nearest object which felt to be the lapels of a suit.

Your gaze snapped into sharp focus. Yes, definitely the lapels of a suit, and not just any suit--It was Hotch's.

Fantastic.

You quickly retracted your hands, letting them hang limply by your sides as you took a cautious step backward.

His brows furrowed, lips tipping downward as he absently adjusted his watch. "You okay?"

"Peachy!”

That was too much.

You attempted to sidestep him, but he anticipated the move. His arm reached out with surprising speed, fastening around your wrist to keep you in place.

"Hey." It was funny how a single word in that deep voice of his was enough to make your heart beat a little faster. "You've been avoiding me all day. I don't want to pry, but if there's something I've done to upset you, I'd like to know so we can clear the air."

"What?" you responded too quickly, avoiding his gaze as your hand went to your neck. "Oh, no, no, it's not you, sir. I just... I think I might be catching a cold or something. Just feeling a bit woozy."

You were definitely coming down with something—it was a green, nasty disease that had your judgement in a clouded haze.

He smiled, making your heart go into overdrive. "You're a terrible liar."

"No idea what you mean." Your voice went up an octave too high. "But, um, there's a bunch of witnesses I need to follow up with. There's this one who was... really eager. Maybe she'd respond better to you?"

There was a pause before Hotch spoke, his voice low and certain. "I've seen many reactions from you, but jealousy? Is that what's happening here?"

You blinked rapidly, heat rising to your cheeks. "Jealous? That's... that's ridiculous."

"I'd like to think I know you better than that." He gave you a deadpan look. "You've been avoiding eye contact, you've been unusually quiet, and I didn't necessarily miss that look you gave her."

You swallowed hard, proving him right and looking anywhere but him as you fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve.

"It's not... it's just, you know... I don't know, the smile you gave her, it seemed a bit unprofessional to me."

Your words tumbled out in a flustered rush, not capable of taking them back as you realized the absurdity of it all.

Hotch's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Unprofessional? Did it look like I was flirting? Because that would be a first."

"No, I don't think you were flirting, not exactly." You should stop yourself while you're ahead. "But she was, and you didn't exactly shut it down."

Hotch's face was unreadable. "Honestly, I didn't even realize she was flirting with me. Even so, I'm curious—why would that bother you?"

"Well, I mean, I... It doesn't, not really. I just think we should all be focused, that's all," you managed, voice faltering as you tried to be convincing.

"I assure you, my focus is on all the right places," Hotch said, taking a step closer that almost felt invasive. His gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before snapping back up to your eyes.

"O-okay."

The closeness of him was sending your body into overdrive, the room suddenly feeling too small, his presence way too intense.

"And just for the record," Hotch said over his shoulder as he turned to leave. "If I were to flirt, trust me, it would be with someone who already had all my attention."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf @sarcasm-and-stiles @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @freyy253 @broadwaytraaaaash

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reddesires · 1 month ago

Text

Multiples Violation

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Mickey 17 AU)

Tag: 18+ content, smut, oral (f and m receiving), kissing, 2 Buckys, basically porn with plot lol, piv sex, unsafe sex, Bucky is deeply in love with reader, mentions of drugs, mentions of death/dying, human science experimentation, mentions of lack of bodily autonomy, cursing, slight violence, jealousy, Bucky being a horndog for Reader, Eiffel tower, happy ending!

Wordcount: 5350

A/n: Did I combine my top two interests? yes, yes, I did. I think I may have exceeded by own expectations with this fic and perhaps this one of my longest pieces that I've written so far? idk maybe. I enjoyed writing even though I took a break in-between since I felt lost with how to lead into the other half of this but I think it turned out decent lol

anyway, enjoy!

Back on earth, Bucky was a loser with nothing tying him down to it. He trusted the wrong people and landed himself in a precarious situation that could very well end with him dead in a landfill - all for a debt that he definitely knew he could never pay back.

So what better way of dealing with that situation than signing his life away, unwittingly.

Maybe he really should've read through the application before signing it off after all - it would've saved him the stress of not knowing he'd be a disposable employee.

But hey, on the bright side he avoided death's permanent embrace back on earth and exchanged it for a constant cycle of painful demise to be printed out again all in the name of the grand human expedition, Niflheim!

But yeah, no. It was not fun. Each death was painful, and the knowledge of the inevitable did not lessen the panic that instinctively reared its head.

He'd essentially become a labrat who had no bodily autonomy to the white coats that studied him every hour on the hour.

Bucky hated it, having to accept his morality and keep in mind that he'll be reprinted within the next 24 hours.

Then there was you. Devastatingly beautiful and all-in-one elite agent, you. You saw something in him that no one else did. You cared about the expendable who had nothing but the clothes on his back.

Who absolutely thought every other person on the spaceship were dickheads who asked him, "What's it like to die?"- he never bothered to answer.

You made his otherwise empty and meaningless life on that damn ship worth it. You showed him that love can be found in the most unlikely of places. In a way, you made him glad to have signed onto the expedition because he wouldn't have met you, and that's saying something for sure.

Besides with all you do as an elite agent who acted as a soldier, a police officer and firefighter made him proud of his one and only job, made him feel a part of the team - or more like he was taking one for the team.

Bucky was utterly and hopelessly in love with you. You were in his one, and only since day one, the memory of the first day you two met vivid like a scene plucked out of a movie - full scale and explicit with lack for better words.

The crate he sat on pressed into the back of his thighs and buttocks, the slightest movement pinching his skin as he craned his neck upwards to meet your reverent kiss - your lips the softest he's ever tasted causing him to tighten his hold on your waist.

The cheers of the crowd a distant sound as he stood to press you down on the crate, so he's in between your supple thighs. Your giggle pulled a breathless chuckle from him as he took your breast into his hand, massaging and pinching your nipple to hear those delicious moans that fall from your mouth.

Muffling the sound as he crashes his lips against yours, tasting you as he explores your mouth with the experience of a man discovering heaven for the first time.

Your legs tremble and your back arches as he pushes the back of your thigh to your chest, his hand trailing in between your bodies - a broken gasp filling the air as his fingers graze over your clit.

His cock twitched relentlessly as he looked up and was met with your hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, you were an angel who walked along these shitty spaceship halls and worked jobs that you far exceeded - an angel that he needed to know the taste of.

He descended down your body, keeping eye contact with you before his head hovered above your mound.

You smiled sweetly at him before threading your fingers into his hair and pushing him down to exactly where you needed him, and he let you because he was just as desperate to please you in that way. His hands gripped your hips as your legs fell open and he took your clit into his mouth, suckling on the bundle nerves - his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as you pulled his hair and you breathlessly mewled his name.

Your slick coated his chin and he felt you clench around his fingers as he licked just above his fingers to your clit, your thighs clenched around his head instinctively, your hands clawing the crate beneath you.

"Oh God, Bucky!" He loved how you said his name, your voice like wind chimes against all the unpleasant sounds polluting this hunk of shit for a spaceship.

Your chest heaved as your thighs tightly squeezed, a high-pitched moan ripping from you as you reached your high. He didn't have a moment to catch his breath before you urgently pulled him from his kneeling position and pulled him on top of you, your legs wrapping around his waist, his cock prodding your wet core.

"I want you, please, Bucky." You whispered against his agape mouth, your slick glistening on his lips.

He breathed deeply as he slid himself against your folds, coating his cock in your arousal before he pushed himself into you without a hitch, your wetness allowing him to smoothly enter your wet heat and the guttural groan that pulled from him was instinctive and utterly wrecked.

"Fuck.." He grunted, his hips jerking forward and his hands cradling the back of your head as he pushed his face into your neck.

The heat, the wetness, and your pleasured sounds were all clouding his senses and all he could think about is how much he wanted to cum right now.

He can feel the flush climbing up his neck as the tingling sensation at the base of his dick grew stronger, the urge to release the pressure building and muddling his mind. He needly grabbed your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, your thighs pressing your breasts up as he pounded into you.

His left hand gripped your throat with enough force to be pleasurable, his right circling into your clit chasing both of your highs. His breaths come out in hot huffs against your already heated skin before clenching his jaw tightly.

"Buck, I'm gonna -" He cut you off with a heated kiss before he pulled back with furrowed brows. "I know, sweetheart. Me too -"

You threw your head back, your hands grasping the back of his head desperately as your orgasm crashed over you. As soon as he felt his leftover restraint snap, he bit down on your shoulder, his hands pushing the back on your thighs against your body as his hips pressed into you deeper, warm ropes of his pleasure coating the inner walls of your cunt.

He could hear the last of the announcement in the mess hall - something about banning all sexual activities on the ship. Well shit, there's no stopping him now that he's gotten a taste of you, afterall some rules were just meant to be broken.

Speaking of rule breaking. This far exceeded that, setting the whole rule book on fire - this was a violation that would very much result in his permanent deletion.

They had gone ahead and printed his 18th variant thinking that he had died out there in the freezing fucking snow dunes. This bastard was printed 2 hours before he even showed up so now they're both fucked if anyone finds out that they're multiples.

"I've gotta kill you." Bucky 18 says roughly, grabbing his heavyweight that sat next to the bed.

"Like hell you are," Bucky snaps as he points at his multiple. "You should kill yourself if one of us has to die."

"Fuck that, I was just printed," 18 argues, circling around the bedroom. "I've barely had a life."

Bucky runs over the bed, yelling in protest. "Well, I was never dead, so you don't count," He hurries to the room door. "Go back to the cycler!"

18 quickly runs after him, reeling his arm back and throwing the weight at him, hitting him on the back of his skull with a hefty thump.

Bucky was down for the count as darkness enveloped his vision, his body slumping heavily.

Out of all the ways to go out, countless deaths he could have gone through, this was probably the second most infuriating way to die - the first being dying over and over from the air-borne virus he had to suffer through until they finally found the vaccine.

It wasn't fair first of all, he didn't die so he shouldn't have to be the one to jump into the cycler but unfortunately for him his duplicate was a psychopath who was just as scared of being a multiple.

How could this be his multiple? Bucky 18 was a piece of work.

He remembered when you told him about the different versions of himself; Bucky 3 was whiny and clingy, 9 was indecisive and 12 was pretty stoic and concerningly machine-esque but none of them were complete nutjobs like 18.

He was gonna kill 18 for thinking he can try to trash him in the cycler, the very thought pissed him off as his fingers circled around the weight that laid on the trash bag in front of him.

When 18 finally reached the cycler room, he crouched in front of the cycler that radiated heat from the lava below.

He seemed lost in thought as he looked down the hole - was he hesitating? What was doing through that fucker's head? He wasn't like him at all, he seemed like an entirely different person by comparison..

Did the transfer of his personality traits fuck up this time around when it came to 18?

The questions caused him to hesitate as he held the weight above him, intending to smash it over 18's head.

18's head snapped back swiftly, causing Bucky to freeze, his body locking up instinctively as he made eye contact with his own blue eyes.

It was creepy and it sent shivers down his spine, this version seemed to have more of a backbone and a taste for bloodlust as 18 slaps him followed by a punch to the stomach before he pushes Bucky over the cycler.

Bucky holds onto the ledge, preventing 18 from pushing him further down the hole. "Half it! half it!" He struggles to say.

18 grips onto Bucky's neck. "What?" He grunts, pausing.

"Half it, half!" Bucky breathlessly said, his fingers still gripping the edge of the cycler. "I'll half it with you,"

18 stares down at him, Bucky continues. "I'll half the rations. We could split the workload, too," He says quickly. "And we can take turns dying." Bucky hopes this asshole can hear reason in this suggestion. He really didn't want to die. Not like this, definitely not like this.

18 tightens his grip, pushing against Bucky's neck towards the hole, Bucky grunts loudly, tightening his hold. "And you're 18, so you can take all the even numbers," he negotiates rapidly. "And I-I'll just cover, like, 19, 21, and the odd numbers."

18 sneers out with a glare. "Are you afraid to die?"

Bucky nods against 18's grip around his neck. "Kinda, yeah."

"You died plenty of times. What are you so scared of?" 18 asks, a mocking edge to his tone.

"Until now, I died, and I was just born again, you know?" Bucky gulps deeply. "It felt like it was me continuing on," he takes shallow quick breaths. "But now, once I die, it'll be over for me. It'll be you living on. You get what I mean?"

18 squints incredulously, removing his hands from Bucky's neck pulling back, allowing Bucky to sit up. "I don't like you," he raspily says "You're such a little bitch."

Bucky points at 18, a self deprecated smile on his lips. "But I'm you."

"I'm not you," 18 says pointedly. "I'm not gonna live like you. I'm gonna kill you!" 18 lunges forward, pushing Bucky back. Bucky screams panickedly, his arms and legs spreading outward to hold onto the cycler's ledges.

18 looks back quickly as he hears the oncoming cleaner whistling down the hall towards the cycler room. He grabs Bucky, pulling him up and dragging him to hide off somewhere out of sight.

They watched silently as the cleaner traded off the pure uncut oxy.

18 leaned over Bucky, his weight pressing the other man down before he finally tried to shove him with annoyance. 18 smacked him on his head injury in retaliation, causing Bucky to hiss in pain.

"Fuckin asshole, that hurt!" he whispered aggressively, 18 only tilted his head at the scene playing out infront of them.

Bucky wasn't all too interested. Instances like these happen more often than anyone was willing to admit.

A little diluted oxy to take off the edge when relaxing in your cabin was fine and dandy but the pure, uncut stuff was not only highly addictive but hard to come by, seeing as you could only retrieve them from their allotted flamethrowers.

Two Oxyzofol capsules per flamethrower. And you'd better hope you don't get caught by weapons. They were possessive of their weaponry.

"Shut up, 17." Bucky glared before he heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs from the floor above.

"What the fuck is going on here?" You. Your voice resonated throughout the cycler room with authority as you caught sight of the dealers, your co-worker following close behind.

"Are you serious, Pip? Again?" You asked with exasperation dripping off your tone, your hand snatching the oxy capsule from his hand. He stammered with excuses, but you stared back with an unmoved expression.

Bucky practically swooned at the sight of you. He loved that look on you, the look you gave when you didn't want to deal with bullshit.

You were so hot in your agent uniform, your pants fitted just right hugging your hips and your weapon holsters snugly wrapped around your thighs, accentuating the suppleness of them.

His eyes trailed up above him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he looked at 18 and the way his multiple bit down on his lip, the former’s eyes taking in the sight of you confirmed his fear. His counterpart also was majorly attracted to you, as every other him before him did.

It only pissed him off further, his elbow rearing back and ramming into 18's stomach, causing the other man to stumble back.

18 recollected himself within a split second, his fist coming down on Bucky's head right where his injury lay, again. He swears that he has a concussion as he feels his vision blur around the edges.

During their small scuffle, your voice called out in confusion.

"Anyone there?" Bucky held his breath, stilling in fear. Oh God, no. You can't see both of them here, there's too many people here.

Before he could react, 18 stumbles out within your line of sight.

"Bucky? Baby, what're you doing here?" You ask softly, your head tilting slightly in confusion.

18 walked closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. "I was asked to throw out some scrap. Did I miss something?"

Your hand trailed up 18's back with affectionate concern. "No, everything's fine, but you should've stayed in bed," you sigh lightly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "It's only been a couple of hours since you've been printed."

18 chuckles, shaking his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I should’ve."

Your co-worker turned to you, his hands holding onto the cuffs of the cleaner. "Y/n, you should take Bucky home," he sighs. "I'll wrap everything up once I get Pip to detainment."

You nod, a smile on your lips. "Yes, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." You wave, walking off with 18.

Your flirty smile and fluttering lashes are directed at 18 as the two of you walk back towards the cabin area.

His heart is pounding wildly in his ears as he catches sight of the way 18 is fondling your ass with no shame whatsoever, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you as if he wasn't a walking violation.

No, no, no. That bastard was practically drooling over you as you seductively whispered that you were in the mood for your preferred position of the night.

Bucky breathing picked up as he sulked along the walls, hidden from view as he followed the pair of you, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he watched 18 growl in your ear and pulled your hips into him.

Your giggles high pitched in giddiness. "This isn't like you, Bucky!" Yeah, because it wasn't him. It was an asshole version of him - he thought somberly.

He looked on as you laughed, running up the staircase with 18 close on your heels, intending to follow close behind to prevent what he feared most.

But just as he was about to ascend the staircase, his name was called and he was dragged off away from you - the light dying behind his eyes and his soul floating out of his body from devastation.

This is the moment he dies. That asshole's grubby hands are gonna be all over your beautiful body.. he could just sob in jealousy right now.

'My beautiful y/n..'

Today was definitely ranked numero uno for the worst day of his life, and he was gonna kill 18 for it.

The cabin room’s door rattled as he slid it back, stepping into the room. His jaw was clenched, and his shoulders taut as he mentally prepared to fully walk into the bedroom area. He could already imagine the image of himself towering over your nude body, 18’s hands gripping the fullness of your hips as he kissed up your neck towards your kiss, bruised lips.

He took a deep breath as he ripped off the metaphorical band aid of fumbling nerves, stepping past the wall into clear view of their bed but instead of being met with the dreaded view of your naked body intertwined with 18's, his eyes widen as your hands cup his cheeks with both awe and a soft eagerness.

"17," you breathe out, your eyes wide. "I knew this would happen eventually."

The bathroom door slides open, revealing a shirtless 18, his counterpart looking him up and down with an amused smirk.

"Stand next to each other," you say, your hand reaching for 18 and pulling him closer to Bucky.

"Take this off, buck." Your hands undo the buttons on his shirt, his eyes dropping to your movement in confusion. "What?"

"I want you to look the same." You smile, helping him lift his shirt up his arms and off his body.

Your mouth drops in astonishment as 18 chuckles and drapes his arm around Bucky's shoulders, Bucky only looks between you and 18 with furrowed brows, his confusion permeating off of him in waves.

This situation couldn't be more bizarre, and he's as frazzled as could be with his whole jealously over himself touching you, but this isn't at all how he thought you would react. He expected you to be scared or perhaps anxious, but you're more on the fascinated and excited spectrum.

He does that knot of nervousness in his chest loosen, his head dropping to where your hand laid, smooth and warm on his pec, his eyes trailing back up to meet yours.

Your smile is affectionate and bright, your eyes glowing with a light that's only reserved for him.

"Y/n.. h-how are you so calm about this?" His voice carries that tinge of uneasiness, his hand instinctively gripping your hand. "This is a Multiples Violation. I-I’m good as dead!"

You shake your head. "Not if they don't know, besides," You look between the two of them. "18 told me that you guys sorted this out already."

Bucky bottom lip juts out as his eyes narrow at the other man, 18 blinks lazily, ignoring his stare intentionally.

"Eat half, work half," you say sternly, pointing at the pair. "Alternating deaths, evens and odds." You sigh lightly as you brush your hair behind your ear.

"I can't bear the thought of either of you dying for good, so I'll feed you both as often as I can," your voice determined, and your stare just as strong. "So be good boys, and don't fight."

18 smiles slyly, nodding, and it makes Bucky want to punch him square in the ear just cause.

You clap your hands together with a finality. "Good system. Now chill." You say, walking to the other side of the room.

Your hands unbutton your pants and slide it down your smooth legs with an air of unbothered ness, though your form carried a hint of exhaustion from a day that dragged on too long.

He felt guilty that at a time like this, the sight of your bare legs shot right down to his dick and he wanted nothing more than to have you bent over your shared bed

The only problem was the piece of shit sitting right next to him now. 18 leaning back on his hand with his legs, man-spread as his eyes trailed over your half-naked body with a hunger he was all too familiar with.

There wasn't a time that you and him didn't have your hands on each other, with your responsibilities as an agent and his constant trips to the lab to be experimented on, there was long periods of not being able to have alone time and he already felt deprived of your touch. he's not sure if he had the willpower to put off sex while his multiple was around, even though the thought of sharing you was off putting..perhaps he could adapt.

18 was still him despite their differences, though there were obvious gaps in personalities, 18 would know every kink and cranny of you as he did. It could be beneficial.

The bed dipped as you knelt in between the two of them, Bucky's hand settling on your lower back, his fingers soothing that persistent ache you often carried after a long day of work.

You sigh contentedly before humming when 18 massages the nape of your neck affectionately.

Bucky can admit that 18 was quite soft when it came to you despite thinking he's an asshole - he can see 18 loved you too, there wasn't a doubt about it.

"My boys, you're too sweet.." Your voice drips with a sweetness that settles deep in their bones, your body pliant under their touch.

He can feel himself getting harder at how breathlessly you say it and he closes his eyes as he breathes in deeply, it's crazy just how much of a sex fiend he is since he's been with you. It's unfair how you're laying right in front of him in just your small panties and your lacy black bra - the straps falling off your shoulders in that way that just drives him insane.

His eyes trail to 18 and their gazes meet, they share a knowing look - Knowing in a way that their resistance is thinning. Yeah, they certainly are counterparts for damn sure with how in sync their train of thought is.

Easy as breathing, they were kissing up the length of your back, your body tensing at the unexpected moment, a shudder running up your spine. He grows tired of being subtle as his hands grip your hips, jutting you upwards on your knees, your ass pressed against his hard on.

18 slides in front of you as he kissed from the crook of your neck to your mouth, a surprised gasp tumbling from your parted lips. 18's tongue gliding along your bottom lip before he tentatively pulled you deeper into the kiss.

Your breathing picked up as you felt Bucky's knowing hands expertly undid your bra, the piece falling from your chest, and he didn't waste a second before his hand smoothes over your torso to your breasts. His top half leaned over you as his fingers tweaked your nipples, his print deviously pressed harder into the curve of your ass.

You moaned into 18's mouth, your hand gliding from his bare chest down to his crotch, his brows furrowing in a pleasured expression.

"I don't know about you, 18," Bucky says lowly, one hand playing from your nipple and the other traveling to between your legs, pushing your panties to the side "but I think our girl needs some stress relief."

18 grins against your lips before he moves to your neck, licking and nipping the sensitive skin right under your ear.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." He answers back, his smile only widening as Bucky's fingers graze over your sensitive clit, teasing you with light touches, your moans becoming whimpers of pleading.

"Is that what you want, baby?" Bucky whispers down to you, watching as 18 grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye."Go on, sweetheart. Answer him." 18 smugly says, kissing your cheeks.

Your breath comes out in shudders as you try to answer through the pleasure that resonated from your clit, Bucky's fingers now relentless against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Plea-please, I want it. More than anything!" Your desperation bleeds through your words, fumbling fingers and pleading eyes.

You were absolutely beautiful in this light, so wrecked and so pliable and under their mercy. During the day, you were so full of strength and a pillar of reliability but at night, in your shared bed, you were so pleading and gorgeously disheveled in your display of pleasure, just the way he loved it.

Bucky groans as he presses himself harder into you, his lips trailing down your back. He was so turned on that he didn't know just how much more he could take. Your wetness coated his fingers as he played with your clit, your legs quivering and your hips twitching as you felt yourself edging closer to that release.

A strong moan ripped from your mouth as 18 took your nipple into his mouth, his other hand giving equal attention to your other breast. "Oh my God!" Your hands gripping onto 18's shoulders to keep balance from falling forwards.

"Come on, baby. I know you're close." Bucky's voice comes out rough as his arm wraps around your waist, keeping you pushed up against his hips, his fingers unyielding as he pushes his middle finger into your core, the heel of his palm slapping against your clit causing your eyes to roll back and your moans to come out ragged.

"Please! Don't stop!" They don't. They know the tell-tale signs of your orgasm, the way your voice pitches, and the way your body tenses so deliciously.

Your back arches, your hands clutching 18 closer to your chest desperately and a broken shriek escapes you as you cum, your legs trembling and your mouth falling open as you try catching your breath.

18 litters your face with soft kisses, your eyes fluttering, and a satisfied smile graces your lips, breathing out a sigh as you feel Bucky massages your hips and the side of your thighs.

"You did good, baby doll." 18 says, brushing back your hair from your damp forehead.

Your hand reaches back for Bucky's hand, and he readily takes it, kissing your knuckles with a reverent affection. "It's your turn, boys"

They gaze at you for a second before slightly leaning to the side to share a look - 18 raises a brow, a question that Bucky knows the answer to, he nods to the former.

"If you say so, baby." Bucky chuckles as he lifts you upright, positioning you just right so the both of them can tower over you.

Bucky standing behind you and 18 positioned right in front of your face, his groin at eye level with you.

Your fingers pulled down the waistband of his pants slowly, enjoying the way 18 looks down with a look of anticipation and eagerness, his teeth biting down on his plush bottom lip. Finally his cock was free of his boxers, bouncing up and erect just for you and you don’t waste so much time, kissing his tip.

It was the exact replica of Bucky's, the two sharing every detail possible with the other. From the veins that adorned their solid dicks to the very specific color of their tips and as you licked the bead of precum that beaded like a small pearl on the slit, it tasted exactly the same.

Bucky watched as you kissed and kitten licked at his multiple's cock and he couldn't help the small cloud of jealousy brewing inside of him but a smirk pulled at his lips as he pushed himself into you with no warning, a self satisfied feeling washing over him as you gasped in sudden pleasure, your hand gripping the bed's comforter.

They both released a guttural groan as Bucky bottomed out in your tight pussy and 18 felt the way your warm tongue licked up his length before taking him into your mouth.

There was a moment of respite, a moment to take in the pleasure before the tension became too much.

Bucky's movements jolted you forward causing you to fully take 18's cock in your mouth, the sounds of both your wet mouth and pussy resonated off the wall of the bedroom.

You were filled on both ends and they could see just how fucked out you were, the way your eyes watered from the pleasure and the undeniable way that they've completed and utterly ruined you.

"That's our good girl." 18 mutters, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair, smiling at the way your lashes flutter up at him as you suck on his cock.

"Taking us so well," Bucky grunts, his hand coming down and slapping the curve of your ass just the way you like it, biting his lip at the way you moaned at the sensation.

Bucky's tip kept hitting that soft and gummy spot of yours, his dick twitching at the way you clenched around him. "Fuck, pretty girl, If you keep squeezing me that-" he moaned, his arms wrapping around your stomach. "I'm gonna cum.." You squeeze him again, your ass tilting up as if to take him in deeper.

"It's too good -" 18 grunts, his fingers caressing your cheek. "You gonna take it, beautiful? My cum?" He says to you sweetly, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear as if he isn't fucking down your throat and you nod, a whimper of want emitting from you.

Bucky's hands grip onto your hips tighter. "And I'm gonna fuck my cum into this tight pussy, baby," he kisses your lower back. "You want that, yeah?" You nod, your whimpers only increasing as your eyes welled with tears. You were so close and all your senses were filled by them everywhere and it was so pleasurable that it was overwhelming.

"Okay, sweetheart, that's it." 18 groans as he slightly pulls back so he can see how his cum pools onto your tongue and you willingly swallow every drop with eagerness.

Bucky quickly pulls you up against him, your back pressed to his chest as his hips desperately rut into you. "Take it like a good girl!" He whispers in your ear, his hand pressed into your throat and his lips kissing into your neck before he groans loudly, cumming deeply into your pussy. Your moan practically, a scream as you cum right along with him, your cunt violently clenching around his cock milking him dry.

The room is filled with heavy pants and reeked of sex as you all dropped onto the bed unceremoniously. All is quiet until you finally speak.

"Oh my God.."

They all breathlessly laugh in disbelief, staring up at the ceiling. "I could get used to this." There's a hum of agreement. A shared sentiment.

Looks like most rules are okay to break after all. Violation or not.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes #winter soldier x you #james barnes #mickey 17 #reader insert #fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #winter soldier x y/n

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justanotherescapism · 10 months ago

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Hello idk if you would be able to write a nsfw and sfw alphabet for Wolverine ( also if you see that a letter can stand for something else feel free to change it!!! Your headcanons for that men man have me in love with your work) love ya

Wolverine/Logan SFW Alphabet

A/N: hope you enjoy! <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Logan isn’t one for huge displays of affection but rather chooses to show his affection more subtly. A hand on your knee or an arm round your waist. He’d always listen to what you have to say whether it’s something complex or just about your day. Just spending time with your is how he shows his love.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

After you saved him from Sabre, he’d feel like he owes you and would accompany on missions. He’d be very protective, and it wouldn’t go unnoticed but the rest of the team. You’d end up being with him a lot and hanging out, sharing drinks and talking till late in the morning.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Logan tells you he doesn’t like to cuddle but really he enjoys feeling you in his arms. Every night he’d open his arms for you to snuggle up to his chest. He’d pretend to hate it but he’d always have a smile on his face.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

When you’re with Wolverine, settling down isn’t really an option, he’s always on missions and likewise so are you. However, you find your own domestic bliss at the mansion. Teaching the kids and supervising them is it’s own job, but you’d also find time to just relax.

Logan would not be good at cooking or cleaning but he’d make an effort for you. Would it take 5 hours and several packs of pasta to make spaghetti? Yes, but you’d appreciate it all the same.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Simple and blunt. He’d sit you down and end it quickly. Honestly, it wouldn’t be comforting but cold.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’d want to commit, fully but so scared and worried about your future, he’d suppress any feelings. What if he lost his memory again? What if you died on a mission? He’d be too scared to commit but eventually would admit everything to you. After some reassurance (a lot) he’d feel better about it but takes some time to come round to actually proposing.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

When Wolverine wants to be rough, he is. But, most of the time he’s gentle and calm. He’s not so good with emotional stuff but he’d tried his best. When your sad, he’d hold you and stroke your hair, when you’re angry he’d listen to you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Logan is not a big hugger, he’d only hug you when he’s scared he had lost you or in moments where he can’t convey his emotions with his words. He’d wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in close, burying his head in your neck.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes time, but he’d do a lot to show his love like holding you a tiny bit closer when he’s scared or remembering your anniversary with your favourite flowers.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Very, especially around his fellow x-men. He also makes a show of kissing and holding you. Cyclops looks at you slightly differently than usual? Logan will pull you into a rough kiss. My god, you want to say you hate it but really you find it kind of endearing, however, sometimes it is a little too much. You'd try to communicate this to him, but he just pretends he doesn't know what you mean. If you're a little toxic, you might flirt with another member of the team, when Logan gets jealous, you'll give him a knowing look. He'll finally accept that he is maybe a little too jealous.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Mostly rough, the type of kiss that makes your head spin. He'd pull you in by the waist, gripping onto your clothes. If you're alone, he'd push you up against a wall, either lifting you up or holding you in place. However, on occasion, he'll give you the most gentle and loving kisses, conveying what he can't in words. These are the types of kisses that you feel in your chest. His hands would caress your cheek and all the world would disappear.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Logan is not exactly the greatest with kids, but he tries. He swears to much, drinks too much and quite frankly is a bit too grumpy for their antics. However, when he is in the proximity of children - which at the mansion happens often - he's often quite caring towards them, even if he won't admit this. When a kid has a nightmare, he's the first one to respond. He'd say how annoying it is, but when that little hand holds his he'd have a little smile on his face.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

You trying to get up, and him pulling you down, back into his chest. He'd love to snuggle up and keep warm for as long as possible. He's sleepy and soft, really the only time he's relaxed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Logan often has nightmares and disturbed sleep, so often you are woken up by him shouting or shooting out of bed. You'd calm him but sometimes it would take a while. However, once he's calm, he'd collapse into your lap, you stroking his hair, as he recovers.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Logan is essentially a blank slate, all that he knows you have both lived through so he is very much an open book in that respect. However, when it comes to emotions and his opinions, it takes a while for him to open up. He always jokes around deep topics, but eventually he'd give you real answers and not dance around the question. It would take a while for him to trust you, but when he does he spills everything to you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

When it comes to you he's soft, and would have a lot of patience. However, no one else has this luxury, and with them, he's quick to anger. His temper is short, and anything can set him off, the other x-men often rely on you to help calm him down. Other times, he'll come to you and start ranting and raving about the situation.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Logan remembers everything, every fine detail. Having lost a lot of his memories, he savours every moment in his mind. But he rarely shows this, simply choosing to pretend he forgot. Most of the time this is to hear you tell him again but also because he is worried you might thinks he's too soft or weird for remembering where you bought a specific blue jumper from 3 years ago.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The moment he asked you a date. You both flirted for months on end, the other x-men hated it, telling you both to get a room, but you were worried he'd never make the first move. When he finally took the hint and was going to ask you, he stood outside your door for 10 minutes trying to think of what to say. Just when he was about to knock, you opened the door, you were dressed up nice. He asked where you were going, and you said a date. He asked with who, and you simply grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the mansion.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Logan protective? There is no one more protective. He is always on the look out for danger, even when there is nothing to be worried about. He likes to know where you are and safe, not in a controlling way but to know you're safe, he doesn't care where you are necessarily.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Harder than most would expect. He always remembers anniversaries and birthdays with flowers and a cute date. Everyday tasks are a bit more strenuous, he doesn't always understand what he is supposed to do. That isn't for lack of trying though, but sometimes you'd have to give him pointers, like the dishes or taking out a load of laundry. But there would be no complaints from him.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sometimes his protectiveness and jealously can get extreme, especially in times of stress. If there is some villain running around, he'd barely let you go outside for fear of you getting hurt. You'd constantly remind him that you are capable of taking care of yourself but he wouldn't hear it. He can get stubborn to the point that you want to rip your hair out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not very. He doesn't age like a normal man so he doesn't have to worry about his physical appearance.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, when he is away from you, he is more grumpy and colder than usual. He would be snarky, stubborn and evasive, sometimes to the point of risking a mission.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He would always buy you flowers for any occasion or just randomly, and you'd dry press them so you can keep them forever. But it's gotten to the point where you have too many. So he'd buy you a chest-like box, that's ornate and detailed. Inside you keep all of the flowers, and other sentimental things from your relationship.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Logan doesn't like baby talk or being childish in that way. It's one of his few turn offs, at the end of the day, he is decades older than he looks so it would just give him the ick.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Bad, he'd constantly wake up due to night terrors, often waking you alongside him. It would take time to calm him down, but eventually he'd be able to go to sleep.

#x men #wolverine headcanons #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x oc #the wolverine #hugh jackman #x men x reader

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cartoonsinthemorning · 7 months ago

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So I absolutely love all your thoughts and ideas about a fem Stan, but what about a fem Ford? I feel like that could also be a really fun dynamic. Stan trying to be the man and protecting fem!Ford from bullies, but is really just entirely wrapped around Fords fingers. And then! The jealousy could come into play in other ways! Like Stan starts dating someone and Ford is pissed about it so she leaves a lipstick mark on his collar or subtly sprays him with perfumes so that Stans partner thinks he was cheating and leaves him. And the obsessionnn. Imagine her stealing Stan’s shirts and sleeping in them just because they smell like him. Or staring at him while he sleeps and sketching him in her personal diary (though let’s be real, canon Ford did that too lol.) Anyways, I also like the idea of all of these pent up feeling finally coming out and her just riding Stan until he can’t think straight and her being like “that’s right, you’ll never have it this good with anyone else.” Idk. Thoughts?

Hello new friend! Thank you for enjoying my thoughts and ideas about fem!Stan, and for now kickstarting a conversation about fem!Ford too! I have a lot of thoughts. So many, in fact, that before moving to the shippy part, I need to focus on Ford alone, first. What would differ, was he born a girl. Quite a lot. I’m gonna be blunt. All things Ford had been oppressed by, in canon, would hit ten times harder, if he was a girl. Take academic ambitions, for example: I’m not saying that fem!Ford’s extraordinary intelligence wouldn’t had earned her praise. I just doubt she would had been encouraged to pursue higher education, and convert her studies into a career. A jewish WOMAN into STEM? Back then? I don’t think any of her teachers suggested she shoots for a prestigious university- why give her and her family unrealistic expectations? Ma and Pa would had been happy to have a smart, studious daughter, but I’m sure the idea to invest into her studies would had been up to debate, if not shot down immediately: to spend that type of money, when her likely future job would be either high school science teacher, or museum curator- would had been a pointless waste, to someone like Filbrick Pines.

To be honest, I think teen fem!Ford would had rather been encouraged, by her parents, to attend professional classes instead, something like a typewriting course- in order to find a stable secretary job, for example, after high school. Can you imagine, someone with Ford’s potential, being told “Well honey, at least you can put those extra fingers to a practical use, if you learn to type very fast”? Can you imagine how UTTERLY humiliated fem!Ford must had felt, all the time? Just like Ford, I think she’d be perfectly aware what a genius she is, and how drastically she’s been underestimated. And yet, she’d have to take in consideration the evidence: it doesn’t matter how great her mind is. They are right, there’s no place that would want her. The only person that would root for her, ever the dreamer, would be Stanley. He’d just take her hands, wipe her tears away, and promise, with naive, granitic certainty, that he will find a way to help her. His plans would range from completely unrealistic and cartoonish (“Ya could invent a machine that turns me into a brainiac, and once Pa send me to that tech uni ya like, I’ll sneak you in the classes, and you’ll take my place!”), to painfully sweet, albeit still unrealistic (“If Pa doesn’t want to support ya, I’ll take two or three jobs and pay for your studies and stuff myself!”). Stanley would look at his sister with bright eyes, and a huge optimistic grin, stating that she’s the smartest gal that ever existed, so there’s NO WAY she won’t become some posh scientist and prove everyone in Glass Shard Beach wrong. Every time Stanley would pull his stupid, naive, adoring Protector Knight acts, fem!Ford would feel so angry at herself for blushing, and for her heart-rate speeding up. Because it’s so intoxicating to be believed in, but she can’t afford to fall for Stanley’s overly-hopeful view of her condition, and she can’t afford to fall for him either. And this brings me to yet another point I wanted to make: self-esteem, and societal expectations.

If canon Ford’s hands got him bullied, and classified as freak- for a girl, they would had also been a mark of ugliness and considered remarkably un-feminine. I bet F., as a little girl, suffered a lot for having more in common with the grotesque antagonistic creatures of her favorite books, rather than the princess. And I’m sure EVERYONE around her didn’t fail to make her notice too. In subtle ways, sometimes. Like her mom suggesting she gets ear-rings, for her birthday, rather than bracelets, because it would be best not to concentrate more attention on those, right? Even if teen fem!Ford would act aloof, as if she didn’t care anymore, she’d be so self conscious about her large palms and extra fingers- so unfeminine and gross- she’d fantasize about chopping them off quite often. If Stanley hadn’t happily held her hand throughout their childhood, and “made fun” of how tiny her hands look in his large ones, as teenagers, maybe she would have, in a fit of self-hate. Thing is, fem!Ford would hold grudges and set secret standards in her head. It’s not like she thinks she’d never be able to get a boyfriend, despite her hands: she doesn’t look horrible, she’d be pretty, even, if she cared for her appearance like her moms begs her to do- but F. wouldn’t be able to suppress the burning conviction that “No other man but Stanley deserves me”. Other men may want her despite her hands, but Stanley was there since the beginning, telling her her hands make her more special than any other girl, like she was magical, like she belong in the fairy tales book she used to read aloud to him. What a stab to the heart, then, that she can’t have him. Not only because they are siblings, but because, just like you said, Stanley would date someone else. Carla, and some other stupid bitch that F. would need to get rid of, because they don’t deserve Stanley like she does neither! I love all the strategies you listed, to “mark her territory” and push other girls away!! I love toxic, jealous girlies!! I don’t condone Ford’s yanderism, but fem!Ford has my blessing. She can be a creep, as a treat. As for the part you mentioned, about fem!Ford snapping and riding Stan- YES I also agree, AND I’d like to add to it. In this AU, Stanley isn’t a misogynist in the classic sense: he doesn’t consider his sister an inferior at all. But… he would not be immune to absorbing the Madonna-whore complex:Girls like Carla- he can fool around with, because they are that kind of girls. Promiscuous, slutty- bad girls. But his sister is different. She’s so virtuous, so smart- his pure, innocent little sister. Stanley would NEVER lay a finger on her. Yes, he may admit to himself he is in love with her, which is also horrible, but at least he would never, ever sexualize her. Cue Stanley playing dumb, or finding excuses to weasel away, whenever fem!Ford flirted with him, or even made clear advances- during the entire length of their teenage years. Until fem!Ford just. Decided she couldn’t take it anymore, stripped naked, slipped into Stan’s bed, and grinded and kissed his neck until he caved, lmao. I have even more thoughts, but it’s getting late, here. I must cut the yapping short, for now. Please, feel free to come chat again, and throw more ideas of your own at me! Thank you for this one, MMMMWAH, baci baci!

#stancest #fem!Ford #please help me find a girl name for Ford as good as “Constance” is for Stanley

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justwonder113 · 2 years ago

Text

Showering Felix with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: Even though you feel more than secure in your relationship with Felix you still can't help but feel possessive sometimes...

Warnings: Slightly suggestive; Reader is whipped as always; Reader is slightly jealous/possesive; Reader is feeling like a mess? Half naked Felix(that needs a whole warning as itself); Felix being himself making reader lose their mind(from love? Idk it's like 3 am brain is not braining)

word count- 1.7k

A/N- I'm alive!!! This one took me way more time than I intendet to. But I'm glad how it turned out to be. I really worked my butt over it so I really hope you'll like it. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated I'm really curious to know what you think. Thank you so much for all the support and kind comments, they mean the world to me and give me the biggest drive 🩷 I'll try to write and upload next part as soon as I can

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

This was too much! Like way much more than you could handle! You didn't know if you felt was extreme pride for both your boyfriend's achievements and overall amazingness and the fact that he was, in fact, yours. Or the bitter feeling of jealousy, because your boyfriend basically stripped in front of thousands, no, millions of stays. There was no way in hell this clip wouldn't blow up the whole internet in minutes!

Being in a relationship with an idol sure came with a lot of challenges. You felt secure in your relationship, Felix, despite having millions of fans thirsting over him, never gave you any reason to doubt hiis love and sincerity. Sometimes the fact that Feliz had so many admirers made you feeel so much pride and boosted your confidence so much, the Lee Yongbok Felix, the man who could have literally anyone in the world, the man who had so many admirers chose you and stayed with you. The feeling was surely something else. You wondered what changed today. Was it because so many people saw him shirtless? The jealousy was gnawing you from the inside. Maybe it wasn't jealousy and rather than that you were feeling possessive. You didn't want to word this wrong, but you guessed that you considered Felix as yours, just as he perceived you as his, you were sure of it, you weren't really possessive and you would rather die than make Felix uncomfortable with an ugly feeling like that, it's just seeing that so many people saw him in different light you only had the pleasure of seeing really rubbed you the wrong way.

You kinda felt bad for feeling like this. Felix was the boyfriend one could only dream of. He only did his job as an idol and entertainer so why were you sulking like this? You knew that dating an idol was like. But for God's sake you were only human! Hearing other's thirsty comments made your blood boil. Others were trying to watch the show! You also almost had a cardiac arrest watching your boyfriend, but you still contained yourself (your panties were most likely(certainty) ruined)! You didn't make thirsty comments and disturbed others. Oh how you wished you could just walk up on the stage and really show them who Felix really belonged with. Oh to see the jealous looks on their faces, but no, you couldn't do it to Felix.

He told you that he was ready to tell the world about your relationship countless times but you knew it could affect him as an idol a lot so you told him that you knew he loved you and appreciated the gesture but he didn't need to do that. Also you were talking out of your butt as if you had any chance to go up on the stage with heavy security like this... You could still out your relationship! You just wouldn't do it to Felix. He didn't deserve to be in scandal because your pride was hurt.

Even after hours went by the bitter feeling didn't go away, and you were afraid Felix was starting to notice your absentmindedness. As you thought the internet was blown over it. Everyone kept gushing about Felix, and you felt both immense pride and bitterness.

Huffing out annoyed you got up from the bed to drink some water. You were in your hotel room with Felix. Others went in their own rooms to sleep. You were waiting for Felix to finish his shower. It was quite late, but you felt nowhere near sleepy.

You took a sip from your water and almost choked to death when you saw Felix emerge from the bathroom, towel hanging low on his lips. His waist and upper body glistening from the water, hair still damp and dripping. What was in the air tonight? This boy was going to be the death of you. He had to be crafted from the God's themselves because what the heck?! Most men you knew had either decent personality or decent looks and, in most cases, neither, and then you had this specimen. What the hell, how? He was also next to you softly patting your back the second you started choking on water. Like man pick a struggle it's unfair to be perfect in every way.

"Are you okay angel?" Felix asked with his deadly beautiful voice after you calmed down. You had to be thankful if you survived this day, or this boy generally.

"Yeah, I'm fine." It took you a few seconds but you managed to answer. God your heart was jumping out of your ribcage. Felix looked at you for a second then shook his head.

His warm hand engulfed yours, "You've barely spoken the whole night. Talk to me love, did something happen?" His thumb never stopped rubbing small circles on your hand. He always had such a calming effect on you and, usually, the second he touched you became so putty and melted like a puddle, but today it didn't seem to work. You were too on edge.

"Did I upset you with something?" Felix asked looking unsure yet remorseful, you felt guilty, too caught up with yourself you tuned out Felix, making him believe he was in the wrong. You straightened up and stood in front of him, his gaze carefully examining your every move. Normally, whenever he looked at you like that it made you shy away, but now you were feeling rather bold.

Not breaking the eye contact you got closer and closer slightly pushing him back so that in the couple of steps the back of his legs met the bed and it only took you a slight nudge to push him on the bed.

Not wasting a moment you straddled his lap. He didn't hesitate and put his hands on your waist. His thumbs slowly rubbing circles to soothe you into talking. He looked at you with wide eyes, he clearly didn't expect you to do something bold like this, but he didn't seem to mind it, quite the opposite, actually. You knew him too well to miss the mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?" Felix quickly nodded his head. He leaned in pushing on his elbows and met you halfway to a kiss. His lips were soft as ever, you immediately whimpered at the touch, already feeling weak in the knees. Sometimes you felt as if Felix was some type of drug. There was no way the attachment and constant longing you felt towards him was normal. Especially his kisses. If you could, you would spend eternity caressing his soft lips with yours. His lips gliding over yours had you feeling euphoric. Mere brush of his lips against yours made you feel alive. You wondered if he knew how much you loved him.

Felix returned the kiss with just as much love and passion you put into it if not more. Once soft and slow kiss was now hard and passionate and was igniting you from inside. You didn't even want to lean back for air despite your lungs already starting to burn. He must have realized you actually needed air to breathe so he leaned back, but he still held you close. His lips now softly caressing your neck while you regained your composure. You were sure your neck would be a sight to behold in the morning. But to put it quite frankly, you didn't give a damn.

Your eyes met, he tried to say something but you didn't let him. God, you felt awful. But you didn't know what to do, what to say. You were in an emotional turmoil. You were a mess. All you knew was that you had to show him how much you loved him, how much he meant for you.

Moving from his lips you started to litter his beautiful face. His pretty nose, his pretty eyes, his forehead. You made sure to kiss his cheeks as many times as many freckles he had. The way Felix squirmed beneath you, the way he was all flushed up and embarrassed, how he couldn't hold the eye contact and the way his red and swollen pouty lips kept mumbling that you should kiss his lips instead was driving you crazy.

After placing one last kiss right beneath his jaw, you leaned back and took the sight in. Your heart was about to burst out of your chest. How did he look ethereal every given second?

"I love you so much, you know that, right?" You slowly muttered after a few long seconds of debating how could you force yourself to talk, or just simply what were you going to say. Felix looked at you for a second before suddenly moving you two, so that now you were beneath him, and he was on top. The sight of him hovering above you didn't really help your situation, like at all! Because now the light was hitting him from the back just right, and the shadows made his features look more defined and sculptured, and you were not feeling good at all.

"What are you doing?" You couldn't help but ask, you couldn't tell what his blank face meant. Felix smiled and your heart melted yet again. "Showing you just how much I love you. Also, I have to pay back for all the kisses you gave me, so brace yourself love." He winked at you and you couldn't help but giggle. What a dork. You were about to make a clever remark, but he shut you up by connecting your lips once again. His one hand sliding through your hair while the other arm wrapped around your waist drawing you closer. You've never felt safer and more loved. And you felt silly for ever worrying. This man loved you just as much as you loved him.

You smiled into the kiss and just let yourself go.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

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dotedlover · 5 months ago

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CECIJI VALENTIES DAY SKINS

READ BELOW FOR DESIGN NOTES/HEADCANNONS

Design Notes:

okay first off

I think that neither of them like the scars on their own body, but they adore the scars on the other because it shows resilience, and it makes them both feel even closer, therefore their scars here are highlighted in gold

second off,,,,

smudged lipstick. on the both of them. I KNOW WHAT THEY WERE DOING 🫵🤨

ganji has kiss marks on his scars on his nose, chest, and one on his hand, while cecille has one on her chest and thigh (one on her left hand as well but its covered by the glove.). those are their favorite places to kiss one another

cecille is missing a garter and ganji is missing his thigh chain thingy, the other one has it wrapped around their hand 😭

these skins are like the,,, ceciji final boss

Personality Change:

I like to think when it comes to skins for characters, it alters their personality in a way, and I know that this is a common head cannon as well so,,, :3

they're both like... freaky in a non freaky way... idk how to explain it

always flirty, teasing, kiss each other when they can, both EXTREMELY dramatic and poetic with their words... so sweet to the point where you get cavities....

they're so in love that they make each other woozy and lightheaded from just holding hands, slurred words and gentle praises, and when they kiss?

forget it. they're probably passed out on the floor

default ganji isn't the biggest fan of pda. though, eternal promise? he does not CARE

he needs his wife and her needs her NOW!!!!!

like, if they're decoding they'd have their sides squished together or would extend their legs so they be touching

oh my god.

both of them are so... posessive...???? but they're rather polite about it, at least in front of other people...

you thought Ganji's jealousy was bad before hand

lord look at him now

like if shes getting healed he'd just swiftly tap the person with his bat and say, "shoo. she dosent need you." And smile down at them innocently.

if the survivor just keeps healing her and the timing isn't urgent, cecille literally rejects the healing and moves closer to ganji and kneels down to get healed by him.

cecilles jealousy does show much more often in this skin, seeing ganji get healed by someone else when shes right there upsets her, especially if its a survivor who dosent have a healing buff. if ganji gets hit again and she heals him, shed tell him something like, "you know I do a much better job than they do when taking care of you. you only need me."

its safe to say that their tummies get butterflies when they're possessive 😭

if they be regularly kissing mid match and someone says, "theres people here, yknow.", they're getting ignored neither of them really gaf and they keep smooching

if the hunter is friendly they probably giggle and run away to the basement to make out or smthn idk they're lowkey freaks

both in general are very bold and very confident, the clothes add onto it. they both know they look good and will put on a show for the other if they're around. wether It comes to kiting, saving, or just simply running by.

I like to think that its cute that they were getting dressed to put on the outfits and then they were absolutely fucking clocked by how good the other looked when they finally changed, they probably started kissing like crazy (hence the kiss marks and smudged lipstick) and ganji pulled off cecilles garter, kissed her thigh, wrapped her garter around his hand, and took off his gold chain on his own thigh and gave it to her.

(im ngl this skin might have been when ganji realized hes a thigh guy. shout out to thighs)

#identity v #idv #idv oc #oc x canon #my ocs #identity v x oc #idv ganji #cecille maduro #ganji gupta #ganji gupta x oc #identity v oc #identity v batter #identity v fanart #identity 5 #Spotify

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nyerus · 2 years ago

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Hi! I would love to hear your thoughts about classism in TGCF, but specifically regarding XL. It surprised me to see people hating on XL for not knowing or doing better during his teenage years of luxury as the crown prince and making XL a complete villain because he didn't take down classism and restructure society despite still being a kid himself. It struck me as odd that the fandom is well aware of his 800 years in poverty but also not really addressing the fact that XL, too, is a victim of classism albeit a little different from someone like MQ.

Hi there! So sorry it's taken me this long to get to this ask, I've just been in sort of a funk for a few days haha.

But yeah, this is definitely a topic that comes up from time to time, with lots of discussion about. It surprises me that despite that, there are still people (maybe just newer fans? idk) who still hate on Xie Lian for his naive views as a 17yo. Especially since, despite being a naive 17yo, he still really wanted to help people less fortunate than himself. He didn't quite understand how to do this in the most effective ways (because he was a teenager), so it came off as somewhat patronizing as he was a person in a position of power compared to everyone else. Yet his desire to help people was genuine, and he didn't personally think of "common folk" as being any lesser than "royalty" -- even though in this case, there kind of literally was a difference. (E.g. when Lang Ying goes from being a commoner to a king, he gets a "kingly aura" that protects him!) So it's honestly kind of incredible that Xie Lian is willing to say things like "I think people are equal, even gods and humans, and if the Heavens disagree with me, then it's the Heavens that are wrong" with his entire heart.

I imagine a large part of the hate Xie Lian gets from certain fans is jealousy or resentment, due to the fact that Xie Lian was "born privileged." But on it's own, "privilege" is not "the great enemy" -- it's what said privilege means in the context of society, and what someone does/doesn't do with it that merits judgement. Xie Lian doesn't fully understand the privilege he had until he loses it (again: because he was 17!), but he still understood it enough to use it to protect and help people. That's more than many other characters can say. Him starting out as a prince doesn't automatically disqualify him from class struggles or the horrors of poverty. It's nonsensical to think so, when this is a character who literally spent almost 800 years busking for scraps, while sleeping in dirt outside and eating garbage….

On the flip side, as you mentioned Mu Qing -- yes, he was a victim of classism. But he's a very strange figure to use as the poster boy for that, though he often is by people who are critical of Xie Lian. This may be a controversial take, despite it being something I think that makes the character of Mu Qing really interesting: but he's a very "typical" guy within the concept of classism. He's someone who started off with a bad lot, but then ended up ascending to the highest point you pretty much can in that world/society. Which is great! He did that through hard work, and it paid off! But now, since he got his "happy ending," that's kind of it for him. He doesn't do anything to materially improve the lives of those less fortunate, especially those he has no personal connection with. This doesn't make him a bad person -- it's not really his job to that, even as a god. He's a martial god, so he's there to subdue threats and all that. Yet you can clearly see, that's exactly the type of person society values because such "rags to riches" stories give legitimacy to the whole system, and because they don't rock the boat once they're on top.

So then it's odd to be angry at Xie Lian but not Mu Qing (or others) for the lack of some "grand revolution" that some readers seem to want.

Ironically, Xie Lian used what power he had to try and help people -- and he was worse off for it. If he had done nothing, he would have been able to live a happy and carefree life. He would have lived and died as a rich prince/king with no troubles. Like, that's the point! The societies we live in punish those who want to broadly help others or make meaningful change, while rewarding those who quietly play the game for themselves -- because it helps keep the wheels turning. It doesn't matter at "what end" of the spectrum you start out on, the rules apply the same way. If you go against the establishment, there's a price to be paid.

Throughout Xie Lian's long journey, he learns this lesson the hard way. And the fact that in order to change it, he would somehow have to change the hearts and minds of pretty much everyone -- which is an impossible ask. How is he even supposed to that, or restructure society as a whole, without vast amounts of collateral damage? In the end, Xie Lian discovers that he was not wrong in his desire to help people, even if he cannot help everyone. He can still help people he meets in whatever ways he can, and that is still important. To show kindness, mercy, and empathy towards your fellow man is worth it. Helping your neighbors or complete strangers you meet once and then never again -- all that is still worth it.

I wish I had the time to sit down and really talk about this in a more organized way, but these disjointed thoughts are all I can manage at the moment! I hope it was still valuable to you in some way, and thank you for sending in the ask!

(Also, I recently reblogged a post that talked about something similar if you wanna check it out, Anon. It's right under the manhua highlights I think!)

#Anonymous #asks #tgcf #im seeing a LOT of chatter on this topic lately so it makes me wonder if there was some discourse i missed due to being under a rock lol #nyerus.txt

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bedoballoons · 2 years ago

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just came here to say that I love the way you write lyney, that guy is fighting heizou for the 👑 of 'king of rizz' 🗿🌺 so pls, could you do a lyney x reader (He has a crush on the reader but still has to confess) where the reader has a friend who constantly flirts with them the same way lyney does, so when they meet each other it just turns into a rap battle between them of who has the best pick up lines, but the reader it's just so oblivious that doesn't understand what's going on 💀 idk it just came to my mind and I found it funny

the reader can be any gender and happy ending for poor boy lyney

SPOILER OF THE ARCHON QUEST 4.1!!!

after seeing all the stress he went through with Lynette and Freminet in the Fortress of Meropide and by the Wolverine man who's name i don't remember atm I just want something funny idk I was sad through all the quest by how bad things where going, especially for him. Give my man a break 🗿🌺

Thank you!! I have been waiting to write this cause it sounds so funny, love a good rizz battle!! I hope you enjoy and don't worry, I'll make sure Lyney gets a happy ending with the reader!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Rizz it up~༺}

CW: Gn reader who's a little dense, flirting battles, very slight jealousy on Lyneys part, confessions and fluff at the end! Lyney calls the reader mon amour!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyney winked at you, a small smirk playing on his lips as he held out a rainbow rose between his fingers, trying desperately to catch your attention, but...alas he wasn't the only one. On the other side of you was a friend of yours, gently taking your hand in his and spinning you away from the magician, while you looked at him like he might actually be crazy.

"What's...going on with you two?"

Lyney chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck after he shot a quick glare in your friends directions, "Nothing mon amour,... just having a little fun is all. I must say though, it's quite hard for me to concentrate with you around, your beauty is simply overwhelming my ability to pay attention to anything else. Tell me, how does someone come to look like a angel?~"

You raised a eyebrow at his question, not really knowing how to answer until you were pulled away from the conversation by your friend who softly touched your cheek, "Please magician boy, even angels can't compare to you, they'd weep in the mirrors if they even caught sight of your goregous smile~" You were only growing more confused with each sentence and the constant switching of who you were suddenly near was starting to make you dizzy, "Okay maybe we-"

"Oh mon amour, you're smile isn't the only goregous thing though. Personally your laugh is one of my favourite things about you, the sweet sound of it could cure a rainy day in seconds and your eyes, when I look into them I swear I can see the stars.~" Lyney interrupted you, sneaking his arm around your waist and dipping you almost to the ground, face mere inches away from yours, "L-Lyney?"

His heart skipped a beat when he realized the position he had gotten himself into, your perfect body in his arms and your lips so close to his he could almost feel them, if he didn't confess now he'd never find a more perfect moment again. "....may I kiss you?" The question caught you by surprise, your cheeks going red as you stared up at him, was that what this was all about? Had he planned it just so he could tell you his feelings?

In reality it wasn't planned in the slightest, but the thought of such a romantic gesture and the way butterflies gathered in your stomach from the way he was holding you, the answer was simply, "You may.." With your permission he closed the gap, giving you a loving kiss that pulled the two of you even closer together, both of you melting into it so naturally.

Meanwhile your friend had walked away, considered their job well done and silently wishing you two the best.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin fanfic #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin x you #genshin fluff #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney genshin #lyney headcanons #lyney fluff

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dudeyuri · 2 years ago

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i know I’m not alone in this but my favorite thing mhok did this episode, out of all the sweet things he did, was urge day out of his comfort zone to set a plan with august. it spoke volumes about his character and about his relationship with day. it was just such a refreshing turn of events (that led to a cute practice date sequence)

this ep set up mhokday v. augustday in a way I can really only call “juicy” lmao. day makes excuses for and takes on the onus of talking august down from his flighty and flaky tendencies; mhok is day’s anchor, in a myriad of ways, and when he wasn’t there for day during that scene in the markets, it was of course in no way positioned as day’s responsibility. day had to strive to earn august’s acceptance; mhok’s acceptance has been unconditional even if it took some trial and error for him to understand day (I think their relationship is built on a deepening understanding of each other, fostering this two-way acceptance). day and august were assigned to each other; day chose mhok and mhok chose day. august surreptitiously walks away from day’s feelings; mhok shoulders them despite his own.

we’re shown right off the bat in ep5 that august and day’s relationship strikes something like jealousy in mhok. but this is a grown ass man with a caretaking job. even as he blurs the line between caretaker and suitor he remembers his place—his place as day’s friend and phi even more than as his caretaker imo. above all else he wants to help day push past self-isolating tendencies (look at all the friends who love day! he’s not meant to be holed up in his room!)(and I mean, this is personal for him! not just as someone with feelings for day, but as someone who lived through the suicide of his sister and as someone who had been in jail before).

and the way he reacts to day’s confession of feelings for august—we see that day is not the only heartbroken one here, but mhok doesn’t let day in on that. there are more than a few things he doesn’t let day in on, in this scene lol. he didn’t even divulge the full story of rung’s tragedy (just as day only hinted at what happened between him and night). mhok is just fully present for day as day deals with his own heartbreak. whereas in august and day’s relationship as badminton partners, august’s feelings formed the center of their relationship, and he often left day scrambling just to appease him.

there’s probably some comparison to be made between mhok stepping in and setting up dinner plans for august and day, and august insisting that he will never have another badminton partner if it’s not day. it’s like love v. possessiveness. mhok has this maturity that is really compelling, makes sense with his character, and again is just soooo refreshing

mhok has made a few self-deprecating comments about lacking tenderness, a hang-up informed by his past and by his sister’s suicide, but damn if this man isn’t the paragon of devotion idk what he is. and because of all this, because we’re seeing mhok place his feelings second to caring for day, i am of course looking forward to seeing mhok’s feelings prioritized alongside day’s and his insecurities addressed as the series progresses. in conclusion, what a mensch

#im also looking forward to his smoker lung ass doing a run with day lol #last twilight #anyway u can once again find me in Aof’s walls #i feel like I’m really not a meta writer unless it’s bad buddy bullshit and ESPECIALLY before a series has fully aired #but damn this show got me #i write this as a jealousy and possessiveness lover btw i think those are juicy too #and i LOVE absolutely everything august is bringing #but everything mhok does is in line with what we have learned about him and it’s satisfying #to see stellar character work like this

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yuukei-yikes · 3 months ago

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marie headcanons or thoughts??

i adore how you portray her in kagefuture, even when ur going full sitcom mode u manage to grasp the essential parts of every char so well aaaaaaa

THANK UUU that means a lot 'cause mary isn't a character i focus on very often. i love her though. im making this more about kagefuture because it's what comes to mind first HEHEHEH

ummm. this got very setomary focused btw. sorry. cause seto and mary have their own sitcom situation in kagefuture, okay? i'm not lying they all have their sideplots they all have lives OKAY. sometimes i see the tags being like GOD WHAT WILL SHINTARO AND AYANO TELL THE DAN NOW... listen they're all grown ass adults the dan frankly doesn't care that much. they have problems of their own to worry about who shintaro's kissing that week

anyways seto and mary. i've talked abt this but mary not wanting to be in a relationship with seto 'cause erm immortal stuff etc etc i talk about it more here and seto eventually getting in a relationship with a random girl (LESBIAN WAY)

but. like. okay hear my oddly specific headcanons. seto gets his hands on a lot of money from some big job he had or something. so he makes a very bad financial decision as a young adult and buys a rundown house to restore. YAAAY. kagefuture seto is like. still working multiple time jobs, living in a comically half done house and has a hard time making ends meet 'cause he's still doing a lot of payments for the house+renovations AND! he's financially supporting mary at the same time, who moves out after living with him in that house. that means paying someone else's expenses on top of everything LOL and I'LL GET back to this when i get to mary

i think they'd start that house project together. seto was totally thinking of like, building a home for both of them. she was totally part of that plan. they've like put the cards on the table btw they've had the "i'm in love with you" "i don't think u should be" convo so that is like. there. and they're fine with that for a while but as seto grows older, mary starts wondering if she's holding him back from finding someone and sort of encourages him to date. which in return sorta breaks seto's heart 'cause HE'S FINE (allegedly) with mary not wanting him but when the person u love keeps being like ur suuuuuch a great guy. for someone else💗🙏 IT KINDA STINGS.

so he does ig. and ends up in a serious relationship. and sitcom situation ensues but it's a lot worse because this girl is probably chill and nice and totally innocent like i doubt she'd be in the know of the abilities. so she IS a total outsider. and she's pretty justified to look at setomary's situation and be like so what's the deal here i'm not totally happy about it. and their relationship becomes serious enough for her to move in too. i suppose she'd be the kind of person who's also into the idea of renovating a house and shit. like very seto's vibe of course if it's a oc gf for him. i think she'd be like comically perfect for him in every way but. SHE'S NOT MARY.

so the three of them are living together LMAOOO and well sitcom shit etc etc etc stupid normal jealousy etc etc etc. so mary ends up moving out of her own accord, 'cause it was pretty silly and the reason she even encouraged seto to date is that she didn't wanna hold him back, so she can't really... stay, she thinks. she would've gone back to her house in the woods but that feels like, incredibly impractical and also counterproductive for her mental health. so she rents an apartment 'cause seto insists and SWEARS he can pay for it for her.

mary HAS a job. she works part time at a flower shop. but it's just part time, she can't do more than that bc of her health (heavy social anxiety+ptsd) so it's not A lot of money. and also she has an assistance dog so that's another expense. and i think she doesn't even do a lot of customer work and she only even works there cause the owner knows seto and is doing him the favor of keeping her employed (idk if you've read mc talkers but i like the portrayal of seto and his jobs there. everyone loves him and wants him to even inherit their businesses LOL so i think he'd know people that would help out)

SOOOO... seto my girl... he's going through it with the financial horrors and relationship horrors. and no. no one knows he's struggling like this he's not telling anyone. shintaro thinks he's got it hard in his love triangle at least u can pay rent u neet! anyways. sry i keep spoiling stuff sometimes im just obsessed with my own au. it's not like the kanoshinaya comics will get that into this whole thing but there IS a mekatrio comic in the plans, where this is kind of mentioned. lalalalalala

#kagekids #ask tag

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drifloonz · 10 months ago

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Omg hi! I very recently got REALLY into Strangled Red so finding your writing for it was such a nice surprise, it's feeding my hyperfixation for this man so well. I love how you write and portray him especially since I'm a sucker for character phycology. If you're still up for it, could you maybe give some headcannons for Steven reacting to the s/o reader being hit on and not being into it? I just think it has nice writing potential and I'm a sucker for jealousy/possessiveness and overprotectiveness when the character has good reason to be. If you don't feel up for it I completely understand that, and just know that I've loved all the writing you've done so far! :)

ty sm.. i fucking love Analyzing steven hes like a petri dish algae or something that im putting under a microscope. he means so much to me and i love picking him apart like the little freak [lovingly] that he is.

i am very glad i make ppl think of him and give ppl food that is my Goal . Give people good steven food. steven food makes it sound like stevens a creature u need to feed. thats s!3v3n not steven /j

ALSO SAME HERE i love jealousy and possessiveness and being overprotective within like. Normal means. Maybe its bc i have bpd idk but i also like when ppl are jealous in regards to me or clingy... makes you feel important sometimes and thats nice to some people including me hehehe.

anyways !!

jealous steven x s/o reader!

♡ steven's not one for going out with you - he prefers to rot in his house. it's awful, but, at least you visit him and are there with him a lot of the time. or he's with you in your house rotting a little less. either or is fine to him.

♡ although, recently he's been trying more. maybe you have a job and he likes to visit you because he gets lonely - he's not all too dissimilar to a growlithe or a clingy litten waiting for their owner to get home. except he's a grown ass 6-or-7' man that tends to intimidate everyone just by being around, so how clingy he is sometimes is kind of jarring. gap moe.

♡ or maybe you just go out a lot and he likes to tag along, because well. he likes you. and you're probably dating?

♡ .. and because he's scared that something will happen to you when he's not around.

♡ . . . he won't admit that part, though.

♡ he'll often be overaffectionate when and if you visit him when you haven't for a while, too. clingy overaffectionate. lots of cuddling and silent affection from the big guy.

♡ he especially doesn't like thinking about the fact that other people can possibly see you and have less than great thoughts about you or possibly be making passes at you when he's not there - you're his, dammit. ... and he's all yours, not like anyone else is competing for him these days.

♡ so when he is there, and when someone does, and has the balls to do it around or in front of him?

♡ well. probably when he's around but not immediately close to you. and as such...

♡ he'll probably stand up if he overhears it / sees it, or just thinks anybody's being just a biiiit too friendly with you. goes behind you, maybe while you're still talking to the person, busy and unaware that he's Approaching.

♡ he's so tall the shadow of his figure looms over the person who even dared to try.

♡ he'll just glare at them, until they fuck off. honest to god. he hates talking to people, especially strangers, and his resting neutral face being turned into slightly more of a resting bitch face sends the message better than anything he could say ever would.

♡ he can look scarier if he wants to, maybe make his eyes glow red and give a bit more of a snarl - but just his resting face seems to scare people off real easily. good. he doesn't want to put in too much effort- plus, it might look wrong, or odd. him emoting in any good or bad way more than his usual resting face tends to look weird. he has no idea how he used to do it so much more when he was younger ... ( HE'S SUCH A FUCKING LOSERRRR . sorry continue on . )

♡ and after the fact - or if they somehow don't get the memo from that - he'll try harder.

♡ some possessive touches - a squeeze of the hand, pulling you closer to him, maybe resting his hands on your hips or shoulder - maybe even his head resting on your head... anything that silently tells other people that you two have something deeper going on.

♡ he doesn't want to actively scare them off. it'd cause a scene, and steven already hates being in public and around people as much as it is, especially because he can feel everyones eyes always on him like he's some freak. which he is, but ... it makes him feel Some sort of way. reminds him of how everyone stared at him, almost as if he was some laughingstock of kanto, when miki had-

he can't keep thinking about this. something'll happen. he doesn't want to get like that in public again, ever.

♡ anyways.

♡ even if the person already left, steven will be quick to make it clear to everyone else and you that you two are an item. he doesn't want anyone else to look at you or talk to you in that way.

♡ ... he doesn't want to lose you. you're about all he has these days, and he doesn't think he's the best choice of a boyfriend or even anyone you should be dating at all - always scared he'll do or say something. always scared of what he did back then coming back to haunt him, always feeling guilty and like you should know about the things he did. he thinks he's awful, honestly. he keeps things from you, and things you should probably know. he's not the greatest person.

♡ steven could go on and on in his head about why you should not be dating him of all people - you're so beautiful, too. you deserve better, to have anyone you want.

♡ but you are dating him. and he's happy. happier than he's ever been, and he feels loved, and lucky - but also scared. he has something to lose, again. and he's terrified.

♡ so he has to work to show you that he loves you. cherishes you more than the world. this is just one of those small ways he does it, even if in an odd way and due to him being possessive and clingy. but he's like that for a very good reason.

♡ because you're everything to him.

♡ sometimes he's glad that people are scared of him. he can protect you that way. even if he can never fully integrate back to society - not that he ever even fucking wants to - he can at least be around you.

♡ you joke about him being like your personal bodyguard sometimes.

♡ there's a faint smile when he hears that.

i hope u enjoyed i went kind of crazy. I think about how much he'd be scared to be dating someone again sssoooo badly LIKE HE HAS SOMETHING TO LOSE AGAIN. HE'S TERRIFIED OF LOSING YOU TO SOMETHING HE CAN'T CONTROL!! like. Especially death or some freak accident like with miki and mike but from also, just not being good enough, being a bad partner, someone charming you more than him... etc. this all comes to a head in how clingy and possessive he is.

He has no idea how he'd deal with it either and doesn't even want to think ab it because if he did he'd tweak ( go s!3v3nmode and lock himself in his room about it. )

he will Not lose you because he cannot fucking lose you and if it means being a fucking loser and getting protective of you if anyone even so much as tries to flirt with you, then so be it.

I LOVE EXPLORING THIS SIDE OF HIM. HE'S NOT A YANDERE OR WHATEVER THE FUCK HE JUST HAS INSAAANE ISSUES. TRAUMA. PTSD. AND BPD. and also Really bad paranoia. Probably some other shit too maybe ocd fuck if i know He doesnt know either but basically he has. Issues. and doesnt know how to handle them esp since hes been isolated so hes Working on it. Kind of.

ty for requesting ^-^ its good to get in the writing groove again. altho my keyboard feels a little weird and wacky which doesnt help and i Should clean it but thank god i can type properly again.

#wispy writes #steven strangled red #steven strangled red x reader #strangled red x reader

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celaenaeiln · 2 years ago

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Okay, so I've been scouring your blog these past few days, and ughh, it feels so good to find someone who actually seems to understand who Dick is! His eldest daughter complex is something I relate to so much, and was the thing that really drew me in. A lot of people look at the mediation and emotional weight lifting, (and those are huge parts of it, don't get me wrong,) but something else I find very eldest child is the way his own relationship with Bruce has continued to take hits all so Bruce can have better relationships with the others. Like when you're the oldest your parents make so many more mistakes with you. I also can't help but feel like it's got to be so hard as Dick to look at the way Bruce is with Tim/Dami/Cass, and wish that he could have that kind of relationship with his Dad. They want to be jealous of the trust, think he's the golden child, and yet at the same time, he's wishing he had something more resembling the true parent/child relationship the others got. (Idk maybe I'm projecting, but oh lord I go absolutely feral for eldest daughter Dick, it just hurts so good)

og post in reference

Yes! I'm so glad you brought that up!!

In terms of parenting, and why I don't really write about Bruce being a parent to Dick, is because Dick is kinda a guinea pig, as my engineering teacher put it once.

He was the Bruce's first for everything. First friend, first partner, first son - he just took responsibility for all roles. It makes things even worse because Bruce at the time he took in Dick, he had only been Batman for three years. Three. And he was literally drowning under the weight of the mask until he found Dick. There's a reason why Dick is Bruce's is right hand man and that's because Dick's been with him through everything. When Bruce was struggling and almost giving into his obsession, Dick was there to pull him out of it.

He quite literally mothered Bruce through his feelings, asking if everything was okay, what's wrong, watching him constantly and guaging his mood. This is exhausting work because Dick's mind was always on Bruce's mental state, much like a mother worried constantly about her teenage daughter or a father about his son.

That adoption scene where Dick asks Bruce, "why didn't you adopt me?" That's the realization of eldest daughter syndrome brought up.

Up until then, Dick was completely fine with being the caretaker for Bruce and lifting him up. He parented Bruce for so long and so smoothly, neither fully realized how much Dick was doing for him until he left. When Bruce adopts Jason, that's when Dick realizes there's something wrong with their dynamic.

I don't know if at that time Dick really wanted to be adopted or if he felt neglected because that he's wasn't while another was. But one thing he feels isn't jealousy, he's very clear on that, but Dick feels hurt.

Was there something he did wrong that caused Bruce to do that? What he do differently? What could he have done better? These types of questions constantly cloud his brain because he's gotten so used to taken care of his guardian for two decades now that he must feel hurt on some level even if he never expresses. He wouldn't begrudge his siblings because he feels happy Bruce isn't making the same mistakes to them that he did with Dick but at the same time, it's just exhausting for him.

Bruce might have improved but he isn't the best, so now he's busy taking care of both his brothers and sisters and his father. He also has to take care of his friends too.

He has the weight of the world on his shoulders but the worst part for him isn't the actual the weight - it's the realization that he's holding the weight. Because before he could live on in ignorance and bliss that Bruce was always going to be this way, and taking care of him would naturally just be Dick's job. He's so used to it, he's been doing it since he was eight.

But now, he knows what he's doing, he knows he's not supposed to, but he must. Because they rely on him, but also because that's what Bruce made him into. And I think that hurts the most for him.

He'll feel conflicted about it because on one hand, he loves Bruce. He loves him so much, he'll do anything for him. But also what about all those missed opportunities? Could he have been something different? Maybe he could've hung out with the Titans more if he didn't have to deal with bruce constantly demanding his presence. Maybe he could've joined a new class he never thought he would try.

Dick doesn't regret what he did and if he could go back in time, he would do it all over again but...he probably feels melancholic again. To love a parent so much you sacrifice your happiness over and over again so they can be happy while you're forced to grow up early. Dick's personality itself just lends itself to helping others but constantly taking care of your parent?

He's happy but he feels helpless and sad so he stays silent about it all.

It's said that Eldest Daughter Syndrome can make women feel overburdened, stressed out, and constantly responsible for others.

More signs include having a strong sense of responsibility (leading the batfam and hero teams), feeling a need for control (him fighting for his independence against Bruce and fighting to take care of his own teams), carrying the heavy weight of parents' expectations (his entire monologue in Nightwing 1996 about his feelings towards Bruce), perfectionism (Roy grouching about Dick's perfectionist tendencies to Kori in Outsiders and Roy yelling at Batman for it in Batman Plus), struggling with same-age relationships (dating older), and feeling resentment towards family (his outsiders era was him just resenting Bruce in the beginning).

He's been parenting Bruce for so long he was forced to grow up prematurely. I mentioned in my compartmentalization post when Dick's parents have literally just died. And he's forcing himself to act happy because he doesn't want Bruce to feel guilty and upset about not catching their murderer yet. That's not a responsibility a child should have - pretending everything is fine so as not to worry their family. That's the role of a parent. He's taking parenting his own parent because his actual one is incapable of doing so.

But Bruce's greatest fear is that by taking in Dick, he deprived Dick of opportunities to shine. To live in the limelight. And Dick knows everything about Bruce, so he knows Bruce's worst fears. And for this reason, out of the love that he has in his heart, Dick will never tell Bruce if he's hurt him because this is directly connected to his worst fear.

And that hurts. Because vocally releasing anger and sorrow is cathartic but to have it build up silently inside and letting it sink beneath the waves each time is painful.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #eldest daughter syndrome #anon I can't begin to tell you how much I understand #it's exhausting #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!#anon you inspired me to make a post about this that I'll upload later

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pedrostylez · 2 years ago

Text

Something Else- pt. 4

pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!reader

chapter summary: As you learn things about Frankie, you wonder how much Anna realizes how she affected you. Frankie is adamant about getting to know you more, exposing you to his life in ways Anna hasn’t been exposed to Santiago’s

rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit

word count: 7k

warnings etc: Frankie w/o a daughter, triple frontier movie plot has happened, protected p in v, oral (m and f receiving) dirty talk, breast play, eating, mentions of missing meals, jealousy, friendship dynamics, fluff, pet names, friendships, jealousy, competition, drinking, 2nd person pov, no use of y/n

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday! I hope you're just as excited as I am for their first date :) Things will continue to get heavier as we progress, and I might start putting out drabbles of back stories? Like Anna's reactions or Santi's observations? Idk, let me know what you think about that before I do it lol. Please support by commenting, sending me thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you who reads this!

Taglist: @meveispunk, @jitterbugs927, @sullyosully @3sriracha @alltheseperfectimperfections @nandan11 @jake-g-lockley, @theanothersherlockian, @anoverwhelmingdin, @guelyury, @harriedandharassed, @wintersquirrel @scarletthefierce @paleidiot

You’ve been dreading seeing Anna.

She came to your job to “just buy a coffee” to set up a girl’s night with you, and it was forced beyond belief.

You really do love her like a sister, and sometimes sisters need space. You put on that face that your mother taught you early on; smile and deal with it.

“I was thinking we could watch something silly, like just a couple episodes of a cartoon or something?” She asks at the end of the coffee bar, sipping from her matcha latte, that she requested you make because you “make it best.” Oat milk, a couple pumps of vanilla, light ice. You glance up at her as you wipe down the counter–even in just a t-shirt and jeans she looks effortlessly put together. Her hair is down, soft curls framing her face with a dewiness you’ve never been able to pull off.

You sigh, setting the rag back in the sanitizing water. “Sure, that sounds okay. Do we want to cook?” You suggest, trying to show you are putting in effort.

The bell above the door rings as you continue the conversation with her, smiling at all the right times and helping move the conversation along. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a hat, and whip your head over to see Frankie and Benny, Santiago already coming over to Anna.

“Hey!” Anna squeals, hugging around Santi. “What are you doing here?”

“You said you were going to stop by, and we just got done at the hangar so we thought to pick something up,” Santiago says quietly, looking up at you and giving you a knowing smirk. “Frankie wanted to have a drink made by his girl anyway.”

You can feel your face flush red at the implication, looking over at Frankie’s smile. Santiago seemed to be just as forward as Anna, suggesting that you were “Frankie’s girl” even though you and Frankie had only been around each other a few times. Benny is watching the interaction, standing back to get the full picture. His eyes flick to yours briefly as he gives you a nod of acknowledgment.

Frankie is at the counter, tilting his head as you come over. You’re suddenly nervous, wiping your hands against your apron that has chocolate sauce splattered on it. Ugh. “Uh, hi.” You say quietly, clearing your throat.

You can hear Anna tittering, laughing with Santi and it makes you feel more embarrassed. Like you have an audience and you can’t escape this show that they have decided to watch– “You look beautiful, hermosa.” Frankie says quietly so no one else can hear it, eyes resting on you with not a care in the world.

If you could blush more, you would at this very moment. You clear your throat, shaking your head. “What can I get you, Frankie?”

“Are we still on for this Friday?” He asks, smirking at you as you look down at the counter. You go to look over at Benny, Santi, and Anna, but Frankie pulls you back with his words. “Don’t worry about them. Just you and me right?” He’s just as quiet as before, smiling at you as you nod in confirmation. “Can you make me what you make for yourself?”

You sigh in relief, that Frankie isn’t asking for something overly sweet, or just black coffee. He wants what you make yourself; so that he can see you. You mark the cup with his order even though he doesn’t know what it is and look over at Benny. “Would you like anything?”

Benny shakes his head no, giving you a soft smile that matches Frankie’s. You get to work making Frankie’s drink; iced, easy, and a little sweet. It looks scarier than it is, with such little cream in it, but it isn’t needed. When you go to hand it to him, Santiago and Benny are bickering about what they did today. You look over to Frankie who is already looking at you, rolling his eyes at his friends arguing. “Ignore them.”

“No, I want her opinion actually,” Benny says, turning towards you. You widen your eyes, looking at Frankie across the counter and back to Benny. “Who do you think is a better fighter? Pope here, or Will?”

Santiago scoffs, leaning against Anna as he has an arm wrapped around her. “How is that fair? She doesn’t know how either of us fight.”

“Why are you fighting?” You ask, stopping their bickering for them to look at you. Anna smirks, taking another sip of her drink.

“Just, which one looks like it, no one is fighting,” Frankie says, leaning against the countertop. He has yet to take a sip of the drink you made him.

“Except me, I’m the professional.” Benny concedes. “But that’s why I’m not an option.”

You pause, unsure if you knew that about Benny. “Wait, you’re a professional fighter?” You turn to Frankie, who’s smiling at you.

“You didn’t know that?” Santiago exclaims, looking over at Frankie. “Next you’re going to say he didn’t tell you he’s a pilot.”

Your head whips to Frankie, who is still staring at you, eyes now wide and smiling bigger. “You’re a pilot?” You squeak out, listening to everyone laugh at you. It’s an irritating sound, one that is enhanced by Anna’s laugh–somehow she even knew?

Frankie must notice your nervousness, how you start to pull away at the sound of everyone laughing and reaches forward for your hand. “Hey, it hadn’t come up, and I only just got my license back.” He says quietly, eyes wide and open for you to read. “We just haven’t talked about it, right?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, giving a tight smile and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, sorry.”

He holds on to your hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go and continuing to watch you. He looks like he’s about to say something more but–“Don’t worry!” Anna screeches, jumping back at the sound and looking over at her. “They all don’t really talk about what they do. I only knew because Santi told me he was going to be in a helicopter today.” Anna tries to soothe, looking over at Frankie with a knowing smile that makes your face drop.

Your whole mask you had been wearing for Anna to play nice fades. “I’m so glad you know everything about him.” You say quietly, flicking your gaze to Frankie before turning around for the rag again. You close your eyes in frustration, not wanting to continue this back and forth anymore. You clear your throat, “I have to close up, guys. Can you leave?”

The silence is tense as everyone stops talking, shuffling of feet heading towards the door. When you look to the side, Frankie is still standing there, brows furrowed as he watches you. Anna stands just outside the door, oblivious to the change in mood as she kisses Santiago. “She doesn’t know anything about me, cariño.” Frankie states, watching you. You’re quick to look back at him after watching Santiago frown in your direction, looking down at Anna and asking a question.

You crack your neck, closing your eyes. The way Frankie listens to what you said and addresses it head-on, whether or not you meant the words makes you question if you should have said it. “I didn’t say that to upset you, Frankie.” You say quietly, holding your apron by the edge. It’s worn down here, where you grab it often.

“I’m not upset.” He tilts his head, watching you for another beat. “You are, though. What happened, just now?”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “I don’t know.” You do know. Anna has just put in your head that she knows Frankie better than you. That she will always have the upper hand. That she–

“I only just got my flying license back because of a drug problem,” Frankie says abruptly, watching for your reaction.

You stop down your anxiety spiral, looking up to him. “Oh, I-I didn’t know that.” You whisper.

“Neither does Anna.” Frankie nods, licking his lips. “Pope, Benny, and Will know, because they helped me get it back. They won’t tell her- even Pope won’t. I don’t want Anna to know.”

You shake your head, widening your eyes. “I wouldn’t tell her–”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Frankie smiles, leaning forward. “I’m telling you because I trust you.” He reaches for your hand, pulling you towards the counter, and leans over to kiss your cheek. And just like that, Frankie’s serious switch has changed back to playful, smirking at you and looking at your lips. “Thank you for the coffee.” He whispers, giving you a wink before leaning away and taking a sip. As he’s walking away he nods appreciatively at the cup. “Holy shit, this is what you get? That’s delicious.”

Frankie is satisfied with how he left your workplace, sliding into his seat next to Benny after Pope said he would go with Anna back to her place. The two of them together were unaware to the rest of the world after brief questions if everything was alright, and it made Frankie upset for you. He takes another sip of the coffee you made him-some caramel-flavored dark drink that is sweet but strong.

“What happened back there?” Benny questions, pulling onto the road. He taps the steering wheel with his fingers, looking over at Frankie and then back at the dark street. He snatches Frankie’s cup and takes a sip of the coffee himself. “Wow, that is strong.”

“It’s good,” Frankie argues, feeling himself getting defensive for you. He sighs, shaking his head, “I don’t know. Anna and she have some issues, and anytime I try to get her to open up about it, she’s vague.” Frankie concedes, confiding in Benny. Benny was trustworthy for not telling Pope something that would in turn get back to you through Anna. He knew he wasn’t the only one that had noticed the tension. “She told me she hasn’t dated in a while because Anna interferes.”

Benny’s face scrunches in confusion. “What, like sabotaging it?”

“I don’t know.” Frankie shakes his head, looking out the window. He thinks back to hiding in your closet, watching your eyes glaze over with tears. “She…she said something that made her upset the other day. Something about leaving Pope.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Benny shakes his head, turning into Frankie’s driveway and shifting his body to look at him briefly. “She wasn’t like this before Anna planned on setting her up with you.”

Frankie doesn’t know what to do with that information, letting it bounce around in his head. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, shooting you a message, getting wrapped up in it to where he isn’t aware of his dazed-looking smile that Benny rolls his eyes at.

Dinner at my favorite spot on Friday?

Where’s your favorite spot?

It’s a surprise ;)

What should I wear?

He knows this shouldn’t make his heart speed up and his dick tighten in his pants; he just told you that he had a previous drug problem after you were spiraling from your friend’s comments. He knows you’re asking because you want to literally know what to wear to your date with him on Friday-but he can’t help but relive what happened over the weekend, stripping your top half and letting you feel–

“Earth to Frankie,” Benny says with a small smile, looking over at him before pulling into Frankie’s driveway. “Where are you taking her on Friday?”

Frankie sighs, shaking his head and sliding his phone back into his pocket. “I was thinking Berto’s, but I don’t want to bring her somewhere you guys will show up.” He says, giving a pointed look to Benny. “I need you to be quiet about it.”

Benny agrees easily, promising to not say a word as Frankie hops out of the vehicle, waving goodbye and stepping into his entry. When he finally gets to sit on his couch he brings his phone back out to respond to you.

Anything you want, hermosa. Casual, just relaxed type of date

He sighs, watching the bubbles of your pending response appear, tilting his head and waiting. He thinks you’re taking much longer than usual when it pops up that you’re now calling him. He answers quickly, not caring if he sounds desperate. “Hi.”

“Will you tell me what that means?” You laugh, the sound of your car alarm beeping at you to indicate you’ve locked it. You sound different than you did in the cafe–like you’ve moved past what has happened in there.

“Tell you what what means?” He questions, smiling to himself and leaning further into the couch.

“Hermosa? And cariño, since we are on the subject.” You say, your accent not matching even close to what the pronunciation is supposed to be.

He chuckles, scratching at his forehead. “I thought you knew.” He muses, listening to your giggle and the sound of your door opening. “Did you just get home?”

“Yes.” You sound tired, ready to lie down at any moment. “I have to clean up for Anna to be here tomorrow.”

He hums again, looking at the clock. “Have you eaten already?”

“No.” You yawn, a muted thump heard through the phone. “I think I’m going to lay down and maybe nap, then clean up.”

“I’ll order you food.” He says, putting you on speaker and ordering from the same place as before again. As he’s clicking confirm, you’re protesting. “Too late, it’s on its way.”

“Ugh, I hate you.” You mumble a tiny laugh bringing a smile to Frankie’s face. “You can’t be doing that.”

“Just accept it, hermosa.” Frankie grumbles.

“What does that mean?!” You laugh. Frankie’s smile grows wider as he lets your laughter lessen.

“It means gorgeous. Or beautiful, depending on my mood.” He shrugs to himself, feeling a blush creep onto his face. He can only picture yours, biting at your lip with anxiety but red-faced to match his. He listens to you breathe, wondering if you’re going to respond, but when you don’t and just let the silence grow between you, he sighs. “I’ll let you eat. Let me know how it goes tomorrow? With Anna?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You say quietly. “Thank you.”

He smiles, ending the call and leaning back on the cushion of his couch. He knows he’s screwed when it comes to you.

Playing nice with Anna is a blur that you aren’t totally present for. You’re tired, staying up all night tossing and turning in bed at the thought of her stopping by, only soothed by the memory of Frankie calling you hermosa, and has been since he first met you. After Anna had left, hugging you and kissing your cheek saying she misses hanging out with you, you feel almost guilty for not being as fun as you used to be.

She didn’t ask about Frankie once.

It irritates you in more ways than one that Anna chose to not even ask how you two are doing. She was adamant about being in your business before, but what has changed? Was she really wanting to just hang out with you?

You said as much in your phone call with Frankie following Anna leaving. “She was so nosy before, breaking down my bedroom door to find you.”

He laughed quietly through the phone. “Don’t worry about it, maybe she’s discovering she needs to give you space finally.”

“Don’t give her too much credit.” You grumble, taking a bite of some late-night cereal you had put together.

Another laugh and a small sigh. “Have you figured out what you’re wearing for our first date yet?” He teased, making you smile into your spoon.

You hum. “No, did you have a suggestion?”

You can hear him thinking through the phone, debating on what exactly to say. “I want you to be comfortable.”

Comfortable for you meant shorts and a T-shirt. You made sure it was your nicest pair of jean shorts, with small distress marks towards the hem, flattering and slightly loose so you could move easily. A plain scoop neck shirt, dark olive green that reminds you of Frankie’s comforter. This doesn’t feel like a date-worthy outfit, but you feel better about it when Frankie comes to your door wearing close to the same thing- ripped jeans and a charcoal shirt. His boots are laced up tightly, hidden by the hem of his pant legs, hat is perched on his head.

You open the door wider for him and step away towards the hall. “I’m almost ready.” You call, stepping back in front of the mirror and adding a single layer of mascara. You hear him hum, tapping on your countertop with his fingertips.

When you step back out, Frankie is leaning against the counter and watching you. “You’re very pretty, cariño.” He says quietly, holding his hand out for you to take.

You do, shyly placing your fingers in his palm and feeling a jolt of adrenaline when he pulls you toward him. He kisses you lightly, smiling at you as you look up at him. “Ready?”

Nodding, he pulls you along, letting you lock your door before helping you into his passenger seat. He jogs around to the driver's side, starting the engine and then looking at you for a brief moment before placing his hand on your leg again. The drive is relatively silent, Frankie asking how the past couple of days have gone for you, but just enjoying your presence. You feel yourself relax the further along he drives, giddy about what he has planned. “So, where are we going?”

He smirks, looking at you for a moment, and then back to the road. “I thought I would tour you around the hangar, show you Big Mama.” He says quietly, pulling down a dirt road and slowing the speed of his truck.

“Big Mama?” You question, gripping the handle of the door tightly as Frankie hits a bump quicker than expected. You jump in the seat, Frankie giving a short chuckle at your surprised gasp.

“Just a dirt road, hermosa, don’t worry. Yes, that’s the name of the helicopter.” He nods, pulling up to a large building that just looks like a garage. You look over at Frankie to see if this is right and sigh at the smile he gives you. “This part will be quick, I just wanted to show you.”

You hop out of his truck, the sun beating down on your head, and squinting towards the metal door. “Are you sure this isn’t to kill me? Kinda far away from everything else…”

He laughs, coming around the front of his truck and sliding his arm over your shoulder. His other hand reaches into his pocket, keys jingling around his fingers. “I don’t kill my dates, sweetheart.” He says quietly, pulling you along to the door and unlocking it.

When you step in it’s cooler, concrete flooring and metal walls of the same shade of gray surround you. There are a couple smaller planes, a row of toolboxes along the short wall farther away, and a helicopter right in front of you. Your eyes widen as Frankie steps towards it, easily opening the door and climbing in without looking back at you.

He slides the back door open, smiling over at you in a way you haven’t seen before. He looks like a little kid, getting to play with his toys and is excited to tell you about it, dimples deep into his cheeks. “Come on in.”

You step forward, grabbing the hand he has offered and step into the opening, looking around cautiously. “What kind of helicopter is this?” You ask, looking up at him.

“It’s a decommissioned military helicopter.” He says, letting you take a step or two around to explore. “It still works, but it lets us practice a bit in case.”

“In case of what?” You question, missing Frankie’s serious face as he thinks.

“In case we get called on again.” He mumbles, stepping toward you with a quick smile and directing you to the front. He shows you the pilot's seat and lets you act as if you are flying the helicopter. Pointing to the different buttons and levers, he tells you how it works in the simplest of terms.

You laugh when he struggles to find the right words. “You’re not going to test me, are you?” You look over at him to see he is right next to you, cheek almost touching yours, the brush of his stubble barely touching you. Your breath catches at how close you are, his tanned skin glowing with a slight sheen of sweat from the humidity outside. You could lean a bit forward and plant your lips there yourself if you had the confidence to do it.

He turns to lock eyes with you, a smirk growing on his face into a full smile again. “Should I?” He asks, leaning forward and pausing as a silent question. When you don’t move, he leans all the way in and presses his lips to yours lightly, pulling back to see your reaction.

You inhale sharply, flicking your eyes back and forth between his and then down to his lips, his teeth peeking out as his grin grows. You rest your hand on his chest, firm under your fingers, and give a gentle shove. “No, I’m not good at tests.” You settle on, giggling at his momentary frown.

Another moment of staring at each other before he holds his hand out to you again. “C’mon pilot, let’s get something to eat.”

Frankie loves having you beside him. He’s standing with you, at this food truck that he frequents enough that they cleaned the picnic tables off in preparation for this date. He had mentioned it to Berto, the owner a couple days ago that he would be bringing you here and Berto’s wife, Alma took matters into her own hands. String lights cover the area where the picnic tables are shaded by trees, each table has a plastic tablecloth on it so it is easier to clean up after previous guests, and they gave him extra toppings and a tray of salsa and chips. When Pope had asked if they did chips and salsa a few weeks ago, Berto had given a firm “no.” that was now being brought into question. But Frankie only takes note of these things and stores them in the back of his head because he can’t take his eyes off you.

You’re perusing the menu, debating between soft shell tacos and a quesadilla, and ask the owner what he prefers to make. “He will make you anything you want, cariño.” He mumbles in your ear, feeling you relax against his hand resting on the small of your back. You smell warm-he doesn’t know how else to describe it. When he had stepped into your apartment earlier he smelled it and didn’t think much of it, until he had you in the helicopter so close that he wondered if he put on a perfume specifically for him. His arm around you now, he was pretty positive you had just changed your shampoo and weren’t aware he was fixated on it.

When you’ve both ordered and sat down, he’s sat beside you to look out on the water. Berto’s food truck was set up in a local park not far from the hangar, a small pond with a walking trail accessed by just a few yards. He can’t think of anywhere he would rather be, especially when you lean your head on his shoulder and look out, sunglasses you took from his truck perched low on your nose. “Thanks for bringing me to the hangar. Is that still…your job?” You ask, not lifting your head and making yourself comfortable.

He sighs. “No, not at the moment. I mostly do paperwork for the company that owns that hangar in exchange for using their facility.”

You shift, lifting your head and turning towards him. “Do you want to be doing that again? Flying?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “No, not really. But having my license back is good, lets me teach classes on occasion when I’m bored.”

You seem to mull it over, debating on what to ask next. Frankie feels nerves bubble in his stomach, wanting to shut down at the possibility of prying questions. He was ready to tell you that he had gotten over a drug problem, sure–but the why and how and what happened– “Do you teach like, adults? Or like rich kids wanting to fly a helicopter?”

Your question stuns him, a sigh of relief blown out of his mouth as food is placed in front of you both; something else that Alma insisted on doing. “Typically flight students, sometimes military. Whether or not they’re rich I don’t know, but you can’t just sign up for flying lessons with me, no.”

You laugh at that, sliding the sunglasses off your face and setting them on the table as you dip a piece of your quesadilla in salsa. He waits for you to take a bite, listening to your hum of satisfaction before biting into the burrito he ordered. “This is delicious!”

He swallows, watching you again. “This is my favorite spot, they make the best food. Berto over there has all these recipes down to a science.” He watches your smile, turning to him and blushing.

“Are you watching me eat?” You groan, pushing him with your shoulder and making him chuckle. He mumbles out a no, letting silence consume you both as you enjoy each other’s company and the food together.

When you both finish, you chat about random things. Stories from growing up, but not going into detail about home life, you favorite classes when you were in school, his first few years in the military before meeting the group he is friends with now. It is nice, just getting to know each other, and he knows he’s not the only one who thinks so based on your smile and how your fingers swirl small circles into the knee of his jeans.

It sends a jolt of want up his leg when your finger accidentally drifts higher as you excitedly tell him about the time you flew down the street on your bike and now have a scar on your thigh. You point out the general location on his leg for demonstration, and Frankie has to grab your hand to get his heart rate to steady. You smile at him knowingly, tilting your head in question.

Frankie clears his throat, looking out onto the water again before turning back to you and offers to walk around the pond. “Just a stroll?” He mumbles, watching your smile grow, ready to tease him.

The tease never comes though as you stand with him and walk down the short hill towards the paved path, following his lead in a counterclockwise direction. There is no one else around but a mom pushing her kid in a stroller and a runner, and the quiet makes Frankie take a deep breath. “Thanks for coming with me, today.” He mumbles, looking sheepish as you glance at him.

“Thanks for inviting me.” You nod, falling in step beside him and looking out on the pond. “It’s really cool that you’re a pilot.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’ve been doing it for so long that I don’t even think of it that way.” He looks at you, down to your hand, and wants to reach for it. He holds back from it when you keep your eyes on him in question. “It was cool when I first started, and now it’s just part of my life. Lost its luster.”

You hum at him, moving your head back and forth before saying. “I can see how that could happen. Everything can get monotonous after a while, no matter how much you enjoy it.”

He nods, kicking a stray stone. “Do you enjoy your job?” He asks quietly, watching the crinkle at the corner of your eyes and the huff out of your nose.

“Ah, no. I mean, it’s easy, and lots of free coffee is a bonus. But…it’s not…” You trail off, shrugging. “It’s paying the bills while I work on it.”

He nods, prying a little further. “And what are you working on?”

Your eyes shine brightly at him, stopping in the pathway and turning your whole body. You’ve made it halfway around the pond, trees shading the pathway with benches and a small playground. “I like to write. I don’t think I’ll go very far with it, but…maybe.”

He smiles, blushing as he says, “I saw you had a poetry book in your room.”

You laugh, sitting on the bench and waiting for him to do the same. “Yeah, I’m trying to see if poetry is more of my speed.” You sigh, turning to him again. “I have so many ideas and they aren’t lengthy enough to write a story so I thought I should try something else and see if that helps kinda clear my mind–” You sigh, looking down at your fingers and picking at your nails. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

Frankie can’t help himself when he slides closer to you, his jeans catching on the worn-out wood of the bench before grabbing your hand to stop you. He doesn’t say anything as he leans in, pressing his lips to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and then finally your lips. He can’t think about anything else besides your lips against his, how they are so soft and willing, how you smell of warm vanilla and spice– “Do you…” He doesn’t know why he pulled away, his thoughts all over the place and his body struggling to catch up. “Do you want to come to my place? Watch a movie?”

Your nod is all the reassurance he needs to know he’s not out of his depths.

Being with Frankie today was a whirlwind of surprises. The helicopter tour, the favorite spot to eat that you noticed he tried to be nonchalant about but knew he would have been crushed if you didn’t like it. The walk around the pond, all the way to holding your hand while he drove quickly back to his apartment.

When he kissed you it felt like he couldn’t help himself; that his attraction for you was the same as how you felt about him, and that it was bound to happen. He asked in the truck about more of your poetry, and if you thought you would stick with it after you said it hadn’t been that long of you trying, and your heart soared at his interest.

No other guy you had ever been with had been really all that interested in your interests. Not that they had to, but the effort of asking was new for you.

Frankie had led you into his apartment, smiling at you as you passed him through the doorway. He was quick to shut the door and wrap his arm around you, making you do a quick turn around to see what he was doing and launch into a kiss. Your fingers were quick to shove up into his hair, curls wrapping around them so easily, his hat falling somewhere on the floor as he led you backward.

God, it was so easy.

Easy to fall back on his comforter, bouncing with a giggle as he laughed with you. Easy to lean back into another kiss as he quietly asked “Is this okay?” before unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down your legs. The way he looked up at you, wide brown eyes blown out with a need you couldn’t place, made your spine tingle with want of your own. It was easy to reach for his pants, shoving down his jeans and boxers in one swoop and letting his hardened length slap against his lower stomach.

It was easy to lean forward and lick up the shaft to the head, watching his hands clench in surprise. “Fuck, sweetheart–” He groaned, pulling at your shirt to lift it off of you.

You pulled away long enough to help him, yanking him to kneel on the bed beside you. As you reattached your lips to his weeping head, a pearl of precome touching your tongue and making you sigh in delight, he lifted his own shirt off of him and exposed his bare chest, flushed with adrenaline.

His hair was wild from removing his shirt in haste, jaw slacks as he watched your mouth over him, heaving heavily. You thought you could write poetry about this, maybe.

“C’mere.” He huffed, pulling you off of him to lay flat on his bed. Frankie adjusts himself to lay next to you, turning on his side and chuckling. “If you keep your mouth on me, I don’t think I’ll last.”

You shrug, bringing a finger from the center of his chest down to his belly button. “I owe you for last time.” You smile, letting your eyes trail down to the tuft of hair below his belly.

Frankie pauses, eyebrows furrowing as his own hand glides down your torso. “You don’t owe me anything.” He grumbles, swirling his fingers lower to your clit and listening to you sigh. He’s tensed up, shaking his head. “Fuck–you’re so fucking pretty. Do you understand me?” He asks, dipping his fingers lower and pressing two into your entrance. “You don’t owe me anything, okay?”

When you don’t answer, Frankie pulls out his fingers, trailing them lightly down your thighs. You whine at the feeling, sticky and wet with your own arousal. “Frankie–”

“Tell me you understand.” He says lowly. He kisses your temple briefly, fingers still ghosting over your skin. “Say you don’t owe me anything, hermosa.”

He’s brought his fingers back to your center, slowly shoving his fingers into you again, curling them against that spot you struggle to find yourself, pulling them out and circling your clit. Over, and over he does this, mouth open and breathing heavily over the side of your face. “I d-don’t–” You reach for his arm, nails digging into his skin but he doesn’t let up. “Don’t owe y-you anything.”

Frankie gives a cat-like smile, kissing your cheek and groaning. “Good girl, that’s it.” He pulls his fingers away from you, your hips bucking up to follow them. “Let me taste you, huh?”

Dazed, you watch him move between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs and spreading them apart. He groans again, leaning down to kiss the junction between your thigh and center. “I’ll come once, and you can come twice.” He mumbles, glancing up at you and smiling when your eyes widen. “Fair?”

You think about arguing with him–you really do. But the way he leans down and lets his tongue drag against your skin, leaving a blazing trail of want behind, you can’t think about why you would argue in the first place.

He does the same that he had done with his fingers, his tongue trails down to your entrance, giving a gentle push inside you before retreating and sliding up to your clit. He circles it, lips wrapping around to provide some suction that makes you throw your head back with a moan.

Frankie’s tongue is talented, and you weren’t really prepared for that. He groans at the feeling of your hands tangling in his hair, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still. He pulls away enough to mumble out “You taste so sweet.” before diving back in, causing you to arch up into his mouth. His hand slides up your stomach to your chest, covering your breasts and giving a light tug to each nipple, and it is just about your tipping point.

“Please, Frankie.” You whine, covering his hands with yours to keep him there, moving your hips with his tongue to chase the feeling he is providing. When you fall over the edge, shutting your eyes and chanting his name, you feel his moan vibrate through your center.

When you come down, Frankie pulls away with a deep breath and a smile. “Alright?” He asks, sitting up and leaning over you, letting his lips trail over one nipple to see you shiver. The wetness from your center leaves a trail over your chest, cool in the air as he moves across your skin.

You breathe heavily, nodding your head at him as he looks up to you for confirmation. “Fuck, that was–” You cut yourself off, not able to figure out what it was beyond good. So good that you’re pretty sure you blacked out for a second.

Frankie nips at your collarbone, smiling into your skin with a sigh. He pushes his hips forward, the head of his cock brushing against your clit making you shiver. “Think you can give me another one?” He asks, breathing against your ear as his hips rut against yours again.

You give a faint “Yes,” as he leans over to his nightstand, pulling out a foil pack and ripping it open with his teeth. He leans back to slide it on, looking at you with hooded eyes and red cheeks. When he leans back down, he presses his lips to yours, moaning at the feeling of you against him. He rests his forehead against yours, positioning himself to push into you, sliding in slowly. His eyes are on you, your face, watching for a reaction. He props himself up with his hands on either side of your head, letting you look down at his hips, his dick. You bite at your bottom lip, not realizing that it drove Frankie crazy until he took his thumb to pull it from your mouth, holding your face in his hand.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He groans out, fitting his hips flush against yours to just stay there, to feel you. “How are you this fucking tight for me, baby?”

You moan, moving your hips up to push against his. “Please, Frankie.”

He pulls away, holding you steady as he watches before sliding to the hilt into you again, setting a pace that is slow but powerful. You jolt across the sheets, his hand tightening at your jaw to try and keep you still, but he has to reach up to the headboard to support himself at just how forceful he is being. He moans your name, eyes closing in bliss at how you feel wrapped around him. “God, fuck–you’re so fucking good for me.”

You reach your hand down to your clit, circling it as he continues to push into you, his eyes trailing down your form to your hand and watches you. The rise to this orgasm is much quicker, feeling your chest heat as you begin to breathe heavier than before. You reach your other hand up to Frankie’s shoulder, digging into the taunt muscle. “Frankie–”

“It’s okay, that’s it.” He mumbles, leaning his forehead on yours again. “Be a good girl for me? Come all over my cock baby.”

He continues to quietly encourage you, your nails digging in at the feeling of your orgasm again, eyes shutting in pleasure. It feels like your ears are ringing, a muffled sound of Frankie’s labored breaths fucking you through it, chasing his own high.

“I’m so fucking close.” He breathes, leaning up and changing his position. He sits straight, hands securing onto the dip in your hip to pull you towards him. His jaw is tight, teeth gritting against each other as he tries to hold on just a bit longer, practically growling out at the feeling. When he comes his jaw drops, watching your centers connect together over and over and the smallest whimper escapes his mouth at the sight of your center squeezing his.

You’re both breathing heavily, watching him through sleepy eyes as he pulls out, removing the condom and tying it off with skilled fingers. He steps out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth and a small smile. He looks a little embarrassed, bringing the cloth down to your chest where he kissed you after eating you out, trailing down to your center and gently wiping. You bring your hand down with his, stopping him. “I didn’t mean to bring you to my bed first,” Frankie admits, resting his other hand on your leg with a small chuckle.

You smile, pushing your hair out of your face and sitting up. “We can still watch a movie if you want to.”

Frankie tosses the rag into the laundry basket he has by the closet, kneeling on the bed again so that you’re at eye level with his neck as you sit, his hands coming around the base of your head and petting your hair back. “Of course I want to.” He says quietly, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Spend as long as possible with you if I can.”

You smile at him, adjusting to bring your feet to the edge of the bed and slide off. When you stand you stretch, unknowingly putting on a show for Frankie as you lean down to find your underwear, sliding it up your legs. He goes for your shirt, pulling it out of your reach, grabbing his own, and offering it to you. You furrow your brow, placing your hand on your hips and asking the silent question of why. “I like seeing you in mine.” He blushes, pulling you toward him when you try to grab the shirt out of his grasp.

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him again. “Fine by me.” You conceded, letting him help you put on his shirt, it brushes the underside of your ass and covers the tops of your things. His fingers reach forward to your hip and slide down to your leg where you mentioned you had a scar. He finds it quickly, giving it a light circle with his thumb before he pulls back and examines it.

Your heart flutters at the sentiment-that he listened, he remembered, he sought it out. You’re lost in your own thoughts when he looks back up to you, a smirk growing on his face. “Should we find another Heath Ledger movie to watch?” He asks, watching you.

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Yeah, maybe.”

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