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ozzgin · 15 days

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Yandere! Circus

I've been wanting to draw some of my dolls for the longest time and this turned out to be my most detailed artwork so far :') And since I really love the circus, I thought I could turn this into an interactive story, too. Let me know what you think! Based on classic stock characters from Italian theatre, Commedia dell'arte. Content: gender neutral reader, horror, dark comedy, human and monster romance

You're finally here! Come on in, don't be afraid. Where is everyone else, you ask? Why, you're our only special guest, Darling (Y/N). This is all for you. Come, do not upset the Ringmaster. We will show you everything.

A night carnival? You've never heard of such a thing. Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of you when you found the trampled poster on your way back home. The actual message almost escaped your attention; you'd been too focused on the thick, ornate border, and the colorful, swirling patterns intricately filling the page.

"Last night in town! 'Wizard of Ozz' Night Circus, a mesmerizing show that will keep you glued to your seat. We're still searching for our Columbina. Perhaps you could become part of our story?"

Might as well check it out. Which is why you're currently here, in the outskirts, trying to find a walkable path among the weeds. It's dark and you can barely see anything in front of you. They're not trying very hard to provide an inviting atmosphere, you think to yourself.

Eventually, you discern a glimmer of light in the distance. You have found the circus tents.

The campsite is quiet and still, causing you to hesitate in your decision. Is it truly open?

There's a faint murmur coming from the main entrance. A small, melancholic Pierrot - when did he show up? - awaits by the heavy curtain, pale hands stretched out.

"Your ticket, Columbina", he announces with decorum. "Me and Arlecchino will show you any tent you want to visit. We are here to entertain you."

He ponders for a moment, before adding:

"I'm sure you'll like him more. He's a very alluring fellow. Me, on the other hand...Oh, forget it", he mumbles through pouting lips, ushering you inside.

"Aha! There's the star of our night! Our Columbina!"

A tall man in a pompous, glittery costume bounces towards you and lowers himself with a theatrical bow, giving your fingers a quick kiss. You pull your hand away, visibly bothered by the odd gesture.

"You keep calling me that. I'm (Y/N)", you argue.

"Yes, yes, of course we know that. Do ya take us for fools?" the Harlequin asks, kicking one foot in the air. The jingle of the bells at the tip of his shoe echoes across the hall. "You have, however - you must understand, yes? - you've entered Ringmaster's Circus. From now on, you are the Columbina to our play."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Just like that? Why me, and not someone else?" you scan the surroundings, pursing your lips. "Where are the others?"

"Others?"

Harlequin makes an exaggeratedly shocked face and tilts his head towards Pierrot.

"What are they saying? You're the only one here, Columbina darling. After tonight, we-"

Pierrot's hand lands firmly on his friend's lips.

"You always talk too much. Always, always! And yet, you're the favorite. Of course you are. Oh, what pity, what misfortune", the pale young man laments. "We're wasting precious time."

They both burst into a little dance; a rather silly one, you think with an amused smile. Then, they place themselves besides the entrance, each one standing at one end, back straight and chins raised.

"Go on, go ahead, Columbina darling. This is your carnival. Choose any tent you'd like."

Pulcinella's Tent

The stage is pitch black, save for one spotlight contouring a patch of ground. You can see a large, colorful ball, and two feet clumsily rolling their way atop of it.

You chuckle at the sight. This must be the clown.

"No one can compete with Pulcinella's juggling", Pierrot declares somewhat monotonously. "His acrobatic spectacle has left many guests speechless, acting with such dexterity that one must wonder: is this truly the work of two hands?"

Lights flicker, allowing you to catch glimpses of smaller balls being thrown around. Juggling so many balls while bouncing around is indeed impressive.

"Rest assured, this is the art of one single man. Although four eyes are better than two."

The shadows are abruptly swallowed by spotlights, and you squint your eyes, adjusting to the brightness. A two-headed man continues his performance, throwing you the occasional cheeky smile.

"Ah, that is..." you place a hand over your mouth.

"A bother, truly", the Pierrot remarks, sitting next to you. "They're complete opposites."

He observes as both Pulcinella's heads tilt in your direction, visibly entranced. He sighs deeply:

"You'll love them either way. They're funny and entertaining, unlike me...A pathetic miser. Oh, if only I had half their charm!" he bemoans with a soft sob.

"Hey! Don't sadden my beloved like that", Pulcinella barks, jumping off the ball and running towards your seating with a comically merry jingle to accompany him.

You cannot help but marvel at the man in front of you.

"Enough of this, I've had enough! You don't get to decide yet, Pulcinella", Pierrot exclaims in sudden panic. He claws your wrist tightly and pulls you after him. "It's time to see other tents."

Sandrone's Tent

You peek behind the heavy curtain and freeze. Are your eyes deceiving you? Someone is idly resting at the bottom of a large aquarium, showing no struggle despite being underwater. The mysterious man senses your presence and emerges to the surface.

"Would you look at that! I can't remember the last time I had a visitor."

He gestures for you to come closer.

"Are you the new guest? Our Columbina?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", you speak up with hesitation, eyes glued to the scaly tail that seems eerily genuine. "I think I'll be leaving now."

"Leaving? Didn't the Ringmaster already tell you?" The merman claps his hands, amused. "You're naïve, I like that a lot. Perhaps this time I'll be the one to have you."

He abruptly grabs your wrist, and you jolt at the feeling. His hands are ice-cold and moist.

"Let me have a look at you, won't you? I'll help you hide from the others if you're good and listen to me."

You feel a pair of hands sinking into your shoulders, and you're ripped away from the merman. Harlequin's voice rumbles deeply across the room.

"You're being a fox again, aren't you, Sandrone? Hands off our guest! You don't get to pick yet", he scolds in a low growl. "Ringmaster won't be happy about it."

"Go on then, tell on me! Ringmaster's good boy, eh?" the dark-skinned man smirks mockingly and slams his tail against the glass. "Put a collar on that one, Columbina. See how well he barks", he snarls, then slides back underwater and promptly vanishes.

Harlequin's grip on your shoulders becomes tighter for a brief moment. You can tell he's tense.

"Let's get you out of here. Don't listen to a word he says, Columbina darling. He lies, you see? No one trusts him. You should rely on me."

Pantalone's Tent

You gawk at the impressive height of this tent, head nearly spinning from tilting yourself all the way back. Ah, this must be the trapeze artist. Indeed, one of the two handles is dangling above you, and it occurs to you there's no safety net. A tall, lean man swiftly pounces across, reaching for the trapeze. His movements are slow, yet calculated, and you can't help but wonder if he might actually be flying instead.

Upon closer inspection, it appears he has no arms.

"Madness", you find yourself shouting. "Stop this nonsense!"

He gracefully wraps his legs around the bar, swinging back and forth with a confident smile.

"You doubt me, Pantalone himself?"

With another thrust, he lets himself go, spiraling down against your terrified protests. His heeled shoes clack against the hard tile. Lastly, he stretches out his bandaged stumps, as if signaling his successful landing.

You find yourself bowing to the grand gesture.

"Yes, yes, it's rather impressive, isn't it?" Pierrot follows behind you in his usual dull tone. "Pantalone is our master acrobat."

He lifts his gaze and notices that the man didn't bother waiting for a full introduction; he's already standing before you with a flirty grin.

"...and a charmer, I suppose. What, you're already doing your tricks?"

The sallow clown squeezes himself behind you two protectively.

"Shoo, shoo! Columbina is merely visiting."

He lightly pushes you away, towards the exit. You throw one final glance at the mysterious individual; he waves with his residual limb, and winks.

"You know where to find me, love."

Il Capitano's Tent

You feel a radiant heat coming from this tent. In the middle of the ring stands a grand cage. An animal of sorts? You keep your distance, observing from the benches.

A monstrous giant stumbles within your view with heavy steps. A thick, scaly tail rattles the bars of the cage, swinging itself with the precision of a bullwhip.

"Il Capitano himself!" the Harelquin announces theatrically, bending his arms in the direction of the blue beast. "The strongman, the fire-spitting artist, a most devilish creature captured and chained by our Ringmaster."

"Is this one mine?" the monstrous man pins you down with a predatory gaze.

"Perhaps", Harlequin spits out bitterly. "They decide, not you."

You squirm in your seat, suddenly much smaller under his intense stare. The charismatic guide's smile falters for a brief second, replaced by an envious grimace.

Il Capitano inhales deeply, expanding his torso and contracting his muscles. His fanged mouth then unhinges, releasing a great flame which spreads all the way to you. You're almost tempted to reach towards it, feeling the sting with your very fingers.

"Amazing", you mumble, still mesmerized by the spectacle.

This was no cheap trickery. Capitano is truly a one-of-a-kind artist. No human could replicate such a feat.

The beastly creature holds onto the bars of his cage, shoving his snout outside and grinning. Puffs of smoke escape between his teeth.

"Come down here and I can do even more, little one."

Harlequin gasps and gestures for you to stand up.

"Outrageous! How dare you-!"

He urges you to follow him outside. Enough monstrous sights for now.

"Shall we head towards the other tents, darling?"

Harlequin walks ahead, deep in contemplation. Pierrot scurries after him, whispering the remaining choices. Your shoulders are heavy, and you're quite tired from the eventful night.

You notice a little opening between the lavish curtain folds and decide to sneak away. They needn't know about your departure. You stumble around dark halls, following the cool breeze of the outside, until you're met with the starry sky.

Your path is blocked by two large poles, so you step to the right. Your body freezes in terror when they move with you. Slowly, you raise your head and follow the black shapes, and realize they're legs.

Far, far above ground, towering over the entire circus, you see two glowing eyes.

It's the Ringmaster.

"Bad, bad Columbina", he reproaches.

The voice is off, like an old, broken record reverberating against your eardrums. A cold shiver runs across your spine.

"I'm sorry", you blurt out in fear.

A long, bony hand appears before you, twitching with a loud pop. You wrap your hands around a finger, desperate to not anger this unholy creation.

"Let's take you to your caravan. We're leaving tomorrow."

Oh, God. What have you done?

Now, now, don't fret. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come, put that frown aside. Everyone loves you here. After all, you're their most precious Columbina. What's a Circus without its treasure?

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thesnadger · 2 years

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The Goncharov meme is such a fun little spotlight on how people view media. Like, fake academic analysis about a movie that doesn't exist. Cool. But that's only the first level.

Next you have posts recreating a modern tumblr audience "discovering" an older piece of media and engaging with it through the lens of fan culture. Particularly tumblr-specific fan culture. Particularly in a way that feels like it got its blueprint from Dracula Daily. (Shitposts and memes, intense love for the most prominent female character, reads of complex romantic dynamics between characters, etc.)

Then you get fake discourse about the fake fan response to a fake movie that are quietly complaining about real ways real people respond to real media. I.e., America-centric readings, shallow, shipping-based readings, fans lionizing a protagonist not meant to be admired, etc.

(My personal favorite are posts that recreate the experience of being told a piece of media is so gay, you guys, only to watch it and find it isn't even remotely, that fans who wanted queer subtext wrung blood from a stone and thoroughly misled you.)

I also like the extra-meta ones about "this obscure movie being recently re-discovered," fake film history about copyright battles or the original cut being suppressed, etc. And of course, Johnny fucking Truant is here to give his editorial take on it, as he should be.

Pale Fire, House of Leaves, Goncharov. Humanity is such that every now and then we need to get really invested in fake arguments about a piece of media that doesn't exist.

#goncharov #unreality

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see-arcane · 5 months

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Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.

Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!

‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.

This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:

“Well. Why don’t I make something?”

And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)

So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…

FICTION

Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:

The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…

Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.

Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.

Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)

The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.

Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.

Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes

The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man

Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles

Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves

…

……

………

…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)

The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.

What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.

The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.

NONFICTION

Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.

‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.

Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ‘new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.

“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.

Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.

“The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.

…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.

This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.

#time for Dracula Season pre-gaming :3 #thank you to everyone who sent in their suggestions!#dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula

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theveryworstthing · 7 months

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Gloria and Phoebe!

i missed goblin week this year due to Situations but every week is goblin week so whatever.

Gloria, Dame of Daylight, is the titular host of of the spooky late day show Beam Dreams, which has a huge cult following among non-human and mostly nocturnal horror fans. she started the show 20 years ago after growing bored of playing the same role over and over in human-led productions and posing for monster girl pin-up gigs. she used the money from her former jobs to buy equipment, hire some buddies, and start her own campy public access show highlighting a few of her favorite monster-led indie horror films. these days she's going grey (well, greyer) and gravity is Happening which make her already racy costumes more of a gamble, but the show still holds the ghoulish charm that made it a success.

Gloria leans more comedienne than dark and broody despite the media she platforms and she always has a witty observation or subtle joke at the ready. she also has a soft spot for physical comedy and will casually pull an item out of her hair or cleavage unprompted. she doesn't critique any of the work that makes it onto the show unless specifically asked to, but those segments are always fan favorites since they're always equal parts sincere, insightful, and cheeky. she's a real Character.

Phoebe has much more humble origins. as a mostly mellow music nerd, she currently owns the record shop across from the Beam Dreams studio and lends her expertise to help with segments spotlighting up and coming musicians who fit the vibe of the show. she's found a lot of weird little bands for Gloria, and the current program wouldn't be the same without her.

even though she makes an effort to stay out of the spotlight as much as possible, it's common knowledge that she's one of Gloria's close friends, which is good for business and also very annoying sometimes. over the years she's had to train herself to spot red flag Beam fans trying to cozy up to her for information or access to Gloria and now she's real mean about it when it happens.

#goblin #unicorn #small guide #monster girls #Gloria #Phoebe

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entirelysein-e · 2 months

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『 Your Blessing 』

☼ synopsis: You're Douma's favorite and it's about time that his followers start worshiping you - and what's better than making them watch how you ride their leader?

☼ character: Douma

☼ wc: 1.6k

☼ cw: female!reader, afab!reader, cult leader Douma, penetrative sex, squirting, voyeurism, fingering, one clit slap, unprotected sex

☼ notes: The rot for Douma is bad so I have to bring this back

You were always Douma’s favorite as long as you can remember. The day you joined his cult, he made a vow to never eat you, that you're meant for something much greater - and while he does occasionally drink your blood, it's always as an offer from you, worshiping the very ground he walks on. You deserved the same devotion as he did in his eyes, needing his followers to praise you the way they praise him, crave your very presence and worship the ground you walk on, gracing everyone with your fragile humanity.

It was no surprise when he made you sit on his lap whenever he sat on his little throne, making sure his followers see the beauty that he calls his own, the one he would destroy the world for. The one not even he dares to disgrace.

“Look how they bow down to you, begging for you to bless them,” he hummed into your ear, the grip on your hips tightening when he saw the slightly uncomfortable look on your face. You always preferred not to be in the spotlight, to stand behind the man this was all about was almost more than you could handle, but he wanted you to be the main attraction, wanting to go one step further and make them see the way only he gets to see you, to grace their eyes once before they become his next meal. Your body was holy to Douma so he gently pulled you closer against his chest. “Wear your most beautiful dress tomorrow. I will show them my personal heaven,” he whispered, gently kissing your neck before dismissing his followers to plan tomorrow's session without your knowledge, despite the proximity your bodies held.

When everyone had gathered in front of Douma’s throne, you entered the room slowly, unsure what would happen, but Douma took your hand and guided you to sit down onto his lap once again. “You look ethereal my love,” he announced proudly and held your hips tightly before pushing your legs over his, making you sit there with spread legs as the heat creeped up your cheeks “What are you doing... this isn't decent,” you protested shyly and tried to close your legs again but he wouldn't let you. “Do not worry, my flower. I promised they will receive a blessing from you, you wouldn't want to disappoint our followers, would you?” He asked with a grin on his face and you knew that any further protest was futile - he made up his mind and nothing would change it. With a long sigh you tried to relax into his chest, knowing very well that the men and women blessed by you in any way are chosen to become his next meal if you liked it or not. You loved the man and were able to look past his ways, past him being a demon.

Douma's smirk grew when you relaxed against him, the tension in your thighs disappearing and he kissed your neck loving “That's right, my goddess. Just relax and let me handle this,” he hummed, tearing your dress in a way that exposed your perfect tits to his followers, soft gasps filling the room as you saw some of them blush or avert their eyes, displeasing their leader. “Eyes on her!” He spoke demanding and his words were final. All eyes were burning on your skin now, waiting for the leader's next move as he started kneading the flesh of your chest, gently tugging and twisting your nipples in ways that made you whimper and lean into his hands even more. You were addicted to his touch just like he was addicted to touching you, closing your eyes to drown out all the people watching the both of you, but Douma pinched your nipples harder “Tsk. Open your eyes. Bless them. Let them watch, look at their eyes, at their devotion to their goddess,” he said sternly and ripped your dress further until it was nothing but a broken piece of fabric to be tossed away. It felt humiliating to be completely naked in a room full of people who await your pleasure, who see every inch of your skin, wishing to touch you the way their leader did but they had full faith in him, knowing he will take great care of their goddess.

His slender hands traveled down your body, sharp nails leaving small streaks in their wake but not enough to cut your skin or to hurt you and you felt yourself squirm in anticipation, seeing all these awaiting faces of your followers. There was no reason to be ashamed in front of them, knowing they would never have an ill thought about their goddess, feeling like they're a witness to the most holy of all ceremonies - getting to see their leader please their goddess. The feeling of his fingers parting your folds ripped you out of your thoughts, your hands holding onto the thighs you were seated on and he smirked at the way everyone's eyes were now glued to your beautiful core, spread for their viewing pleasure. “My my, would you look at how wet you are… Are you pleased by their presence?” Douma teased before biting your earlobe ever so gently. “We should give them what they want, don't you think?” He added and watched your eyebrows knit up in pleasure the moment a single finger slid through your folds to gather your slick so he could flick your puffy clit just enough to make you whimper and clutch onto his thighs.

“That's my flower… don't hold these pretty noises back,” he encouraged you to let go, massaging your bundle of nerves in small circles until your neglected entrance started to clench around nothing.

Douma knew better than to finger you, his nails far too long and the noises you made when he splits you open on his cock without preparing your weeping cunt first are far too heavenly to miss out on. Just to tease you he ran one of his fingers over your entrance and dipped in ever so slightly, a small string of sour arousal connected to his finger the moment he pulled back to lick his digit clean.

“Always so sweet for me,” he hummed and lifted you gently, the tip of his impressive cock nudging against your dripping entrance which made you whine, knowing all too well that he will push himself in with just a single thrust to make you moan his name. He didn't disappoint you, his entire length disappearing inside of your core the moment his tip was entirely past your folds - this time much slower than usual, making sure he can feel every little ridge in your velvet walls and drawing your moan of his name out. “Douuuumaaa” you whined loudly, hating and loving the intense feeling of getting impaled on his huge length.

Douma gave you only a short moment to adjust, your walls already fluttering wildly and sucking him even further inside. “You're my little vixen… so sweet and innocent but the moment you have my cock inside of you, you make the lewdest little noises… don't you?” He mused, thrusting his hips sharply to make you squeal out a moan to prove his point. You wanted nothing more than to close your eyes, to enjoy the feeling fully, hoping he wouldn't notice but Douma had his eyes everywhere. The little slap to your sensitive clit made you open them just a split second after closing them, whining loudly

“Don't be so disrespectful… they need their goddess to bless them,” he almost scolded you and began moving your hips up and down his length, indicating for you to start riding him. It humiliated you, helplessly moaning on your lovers cock as your followers watched with this intense hunger for you, to touch you, to help you receive pleasure but they knew better than to ever lay a single finger onto your sacred body.

Your walls started to clench around Douma and moving became harder and harder until he held onto your thighs to fuck into you like there's no tomorrow - and for some chosen ones there would be none. Your moans started to sound like a lewd prayer, chanting his name over and over as it echoed off the walls until the only noise to be heard was heavy breathing and the squelching noise of your obscenely wet cunt, helplessly squirting in the intensity of the orgasm Douma brought to you. “That's it, flower. Bless these lost people with your love, cleanse their souls,” he called out proud and continued to fuck you through your release just to keep going, rubbing circles onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves as your followers came closer and closer, wanting to receive their blessing from you which made Douma chuckle “See this, petal? It looks like you need to release a few more times for your greedy people,” he mused, feeling your walls flutter in affirmation, knowing you wouldn't mind falling apart on his length until you're begging for him to stop - you always wanted more and more the more you came for him. It filled him with pride to watch you come undone once more, your juices spraying out of you and onto the floor, some drops landing on your followers and he knew that those are the ones he will devour first - but none would leave this room alive, having witnessed his private heaven.

Networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

#-ˋˏ ༻luma's musings #kny x reader #kny smut #douma x reader #douma smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer smut #douma #kny douma #kimetsu no yaiba #💫hotter than the sun💫

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an1gel · 2 years

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I feel like for the past few weeks I’ve seen things against my will. I rather have a month where everyone is taking about The Kardashians instead of a s3ri@l ki11er .

#I honestly hope these women do something to get them in the spotlight #i swear I am the most normal human being in the planet just google my tumblr and you’ll find me #also on October they couldn’t pick any other month but my favorite

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charrlote365 · 4 months

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The Fox's Roulette.

Reference Idol: fromis_9 LEE SAEROM Word Count: 15.798 Tags: Romance, pits, Kpop idol, fromis_9, Lee Saerom

PART 1 The neon lights from street flickered through the window, casting a yellow ray across the polished counter of my bar(PIC 1). The bar has already closed but I was not quite finish working yet, because tonight, my regular customer, also a close friend was visiting. Fate indeed works in a mysterious way, I never thought owning and working in a bar would give me a chance to have a KPOP idol as a friend. Saerom, the leader of fromis_9(PIC2), honored my humble establishment as her first choice to have her favorite activity: Drinking.

Saerom and I had formed a friendship over the years. Despite her celebrity status, she found happiness and comfort in my small bar, away from the spotlight world. I knew her even before we were friends, because after all, I was also a Flover, and you don't have to guess who is my ult bias. It's her. Thankfully she didn't know about this, so we can have a comfortable chit chats. I always know that she was a shy soul, despite of her sharp glares on performances.

As the late night seeping through, the empty glasses were pilling up, yet Saerom's laughter filled the air. She looked happier than usual(PIC3), her cheeks flushed with the warmth of the alcohol. I watched her with a mixture of amusement and concern, knowing she had drunk a bit too much than usual.

"Hey, Saerom," I said, leaning against the counter. "You've had quite a few tonight. Maybe it's time to call it a night?"

Saerom pouted, raising a glass filled with beer high up, her gaze unfocused(PIC4). "But I don't wanna go home yet. I drove here by myself, so I can't drive back home now. You don't want anything bad happen to me, your biggest spender, do you?? bad bad bartender.. hehe..hiccups. Hey, can't I just stay here with you?"

PART 2 I can't believe what I just heard. "What did she just say?!!", I shouted loud in my heart. I hesitated, torn between my duty as a caring friend and the unspoken rules of propriety both as a fan and decent human being. But it seems the devil has won this time, I just can't let go this chance, to spend the night together with my most beloved person on earth, Lee, Saerom.

"Yeah, yeah, alright," I relented with a smile. "You can stay, but only if you promise not to cause too much trouble."

Saerom grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I promise."

As the night deepen, Saerom and I settled into our usual spot by the tinted window. The conversation flowed effortlessly between us, filled by laughter and personal stories.

"Hey," she said hesitantly, her voice was swaying around. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," I replied, trying to guess why the sudden change of mood.

Saerom hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid in her glass as if searching for the right words. "Are you… a fan of our group?"

Panic gripped me as I struggled with the secret I kept. I wondered why she asked that so suddenly. But with a deep breath, I looked her in the eye and confessed, letting honesty flow from within.

"Yes," I admitted, the word slipping out before I could stop it. "I am."

Saerom's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? I had no idea."

"Well, I'm glad that you do. At least I know you like us as a KPOP group, I think we're not doing that bad afterall", she said with a giggle yet with a slight hint of sadness.

"So! Next question! Who do you like the most in fromis?" Saerom asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

I felt my heart skip a beat, panic rising in my chest. I hadn't expected her to ask that now, and now my secret admiration for her was on the brink of being exposed. I searched for words, trying to think what answer should I give.

"Well, um…" I stammered, rubbing the back of my neck nervously. "Honestly, it's you."

Saerom's eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, I feared I had crossed a line. But then, a warm smile spread across her face, and she leaned in closer, she put her hand on mine.

"Really? You don't need to lie to me" she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

I nodded quickly, feeling the tension ease. "Yeah, I swear. I'm dead serious."

"What about me? Why am I your favorite?" she asked while closing her eyes with a gentle smile on her face, waiting for me to spill all her good qualities.

"It's how you're so talented and dedicated, yet still so humble. You have incredible stage presence, but you're also kind and down-to-earth. And then your smile always lights up the room and makes everyone around you feel special. You have this way of making people feel seen and appreciated. That's what makes you my favorite, and also to be honest, I really like your visual"

Saerom's eyes softened, and she squeezed my hand gently. "Aww you're making me shy now but thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "That means a lot to me."

"Hey," she began, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "I have an idea. Wait here."

Before I could ask what she meant, she stood up from her chair and disappeared into the back room where she'd left her bag. A few moments later, she returned, holding a neatly folded outfit.

"I brought my idol outfit from last performance," she explained, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I thought… maybe I could change into it. As a thank you. For being such a great friend and fan."

I blinked, taken aback by her unexpected offer. "Are you sure? You don't have to do that."

Saerom nodded, her smile widening. "I want to. Just give me a minute."

With that, she went into the restroom, leaving me to process the surreal turn of events. My heart raced with anticipation as I imagined her in the dazzling outfit I'd only seen if I went to the stage.

PART 3 A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Saerom stepped out. She was a vision in her idol attire, the sparkling white dress catching the light and casting a radiant glow around her. She struck a playful pose, clearly enjoying the moment(VID 1).

"So," she said, twirling her body slightly, "what do you think?"

I was frozen. She always look amazing, but able to see her up close in her idol mode hit different. "You look amazing," I finally managed to say something, my voice filled with admiration. "Thank you, Saerom, This means a lot for me."

"I'm glad you like it," she said softly. "I had wanted to do something special for you anyways". "Btw, I feel a lil bit bored, let’s play a game,” she suggested, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Roulette. But with cards. We’ll guess if it’s black or red. Whoever wins gets to ask the loser to do a truth or dare.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A little risky, don’t you think?”

She giggled, “That’s the fun part! Besides, you can’t back out now. your beloved Saerom has challenged you! hehe”

I couldn’t resist her playful challenge. I Grabbed a deck of cards from behind the bar, I shuffled them thoroughly and folded one card in half, placing it in front of us. Saerom watched with focus, although I knew she was absolutely drunk like a drunk overworked old man.

“Ladies first,” I said, gesturing to the card.

“Red,” she declared confidently.

I unfolded the card—black. She groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “Alright, bartender. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I replied, not wanting to waste my chance.

She leaned closer, her alcohol reeked warm breath against my nose. “so my Master, what is you first command?", she said jokingly.

PART 4 I chuckled, while thinking. "May I take pictures of you tonight?". She slightly tilted her head back, "Is that all? I don't have to do anything?". "Yes, that's enough for now", I answered while taking my first picture of her on that night (PIC 5). She looked very gorgeous, her eyes are beautiful, and I couldn't believe it that I was the only person her eyes are looking at for the whole night.

We continued the game. This time my turn. “Black.”

Saerom’s eyes twinkled as she unfolded the card—red. She clapped her hands in delight. “Yes! Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I said, feeling a bit excited.

Her eyes scanned the empty bar, almost like checking if we're really alone, then returned to me with a sudden foxy smile. “I dare you..to show me your kinks through action, you can't back down now! haha!”

I was frozen. "A-are you crazy? I think you drank too much". "No..I'm not joking..", she replied. I looked deep into her eyes trying to confirm her decision, and it seemed she's excited about it. With that, I then asked her to raise her arms, exposing her milky, foldy pits that I love so much(PIC 6). Feeling a bit shy, I closed my eyes then moved my head closer to her pits, the scent of her perfume mixed with her sweat becoming more pronounced. They smelled sweet, almost flowerily. She tilted her arms back slightly, giving me better access, and my heart raced as I put my nose right on her pits and breathed in the delicate smell from her. I lost myself from her scent that I kissed her pits and licked them. She giggled slightly from the tickle yet didn't say anything. I kept continuing kissing and licking her pits, savoring the slightly salty, sweet and sour taste of her foldy pits meat and fat. The scent, the warmth of her pits filling my tongue, emitting an intimate taste that made my heart beats faster. Her hair brushed against my cheek, and I could feel the slight rise and fall of her breath. The world outside the bar seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us in this moment.

PART 5 Regaining my consciousness, I realized I had gone too far. "I-I'm, sorry! I think I got carried away!"

She smiled shyly , her eyes were like she's in absolute intoxication, her breath was uncontrollable from what I just did to her, “It's okay, that was fun, I kinda enjoyed it”, she said with a giggle, her voice was gentle.

Alright, Round three. Saerom guessed red again, and this time she got it wrong again. She didn’t hesitate. “Truth or dare?”, I asked.

“Dare,” she said, feeling bold after what just happened.

She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “So what do you want me to do?”, while looking sweetly to me.

I paused, considering. I must have gone crazy that time, because my very next request, was asking her to take off her clothes.

Saerom raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. She hesitated for a moment, then smiled, accepting the challenge. She held up her hands and began to slowly taking off her white dress, one finger at a time, clamping down her dress hook, then her bra, and lastly, her nipple pads. Her movements were deliberate and almost mesmerizing. I have never seen a woman undressing in front of me, let alone someone that I adore very much. Flovers keep calling her fox, but what I see she's more like a swan, every gestures she made was so satisfying to see, she almost like a ballerina, gentle and grand.

Her nipple pads came off, revealing her breast. I have never been so intimate to anyone in my life, yet right now I finally able to get into the hidden part of her personal world. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she neatly folded the dress and bras and set them aside.

“There,” she said, her eyes twinkling with a mix of challenge and shyness. “I'm nude now. Happy?” (PIC 7)

“Very much,” I replied, my heart beating faster, I couldn't even blink, my eyes are locked onto her breasts. There was something about seeing her like this, more relaxed and natural, that made the moment even more special. I gulped, while holding myself from doing anything stupid.

Round four. I guessed black, and won. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I said, my confidence somehow went unwavering.

I grinned, leaning closer to her. “Now, I dare you to make me as your lover tonight”.

PART 6 Without missing a beat, Saerom stood up, with bare naked body. Without a single word, she came to me and sat on my lap, facing me so closely. She kissed my lips, we ate each other lips and tongue like its a alcohol laced lollipop, it was sweet, sticky, intoxicating and I couldn't get enough of it. I was overwhelmed with all the feelings. Love, Lust and sense of loyalty filled my head all at once. She let out a little moan as I started to kiss her neck. I teased her by gently groped her breasts. she let out a little groan again, only turning me on more. I slowly started to kiss her down her chest, on her tits, sucking on her nipples. I kissed down to her tummy, while gripping hard on her thighs, then removed her underpants. I carried her on my shoulder like she was a doll. Her bare skin pressed against my chest and shoulder, they were so soft yet tender. Her body is truly the epitome of health. I laid her down on a sofa I had in the bar and I spread her legs out for me. I could see her bare pussy, open wide for me, they're perfectly shaved, with small labia and slightly pinkish. Some transparent liquid was oozing out from the precious hole, they looked almost like its begging me start stick in something into it.

I licked all the love juice that was oozing out, swallowed it, and gently bit her clit as she let out another moan. She was too perfect, too much of a goddess. she deserved the best this world could offer. My feelings to her has grown from a friend, to a fan and now the only thing I want in the world is to spend the rest of my life with her. I love her, I love her so much I could die at any moment. She started to moan louder as I licked and sucked hard. I put my fingers in her entrance and started pumping my 2 fingers into her at the same time. I curled up my fingers, making sure to hit her g-spot every time. I thrusted hard while my other hand rubbing her clit fast. I sucked her breast again, making sure all her sensitive parts are teased. Her breath hitched and she started to moan louder and finally her body convulsed wildly as she finally came. that's all I needed to know i was doing a good job. I used my hand to hold on to her hips and arched her body forward, so that we're now facing each other very closely.

PART 7 Her eyes met mine, we exchanged our breath from very close proximity and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. We then shared a kiss, turning all of our emotions into physical contact. Now that she knows I love her pits, I asked her if I could rub my dick onto her pits. She was shyly hesitant at first but she could not refuse it. She then sat on the floor raising her hands up while I stick my dick's tip on her pit fold and started rubbing it all over her pits(PIC8). I could feel the texture and the warmth from her lymph node, her pits actually enclaved deep enough to enclose my whole dick's tip. Fckkk suddenly I felt was going to come but I managed to hold it. I then moved to her back and asked her to squeeze my dick with her pits and inner arms like a sandwich. I knew she does workout regularly and that explained why her arms felt tight like a pussy. I rubbed my dick into her pits slits faster and faster, her sweat and my pre-cum made her pits extra wet and slimy as she clamped down even tighter and let out a moan "emmwahh", her moan was so cute that I finally couldn't hold it, "Ahh!! Saerom ahh!!" I spurted out my cement all over her pits and breast. My heart beat so fast that it could stop any moment and I was so lightheaded I thought I would faint, I have never felt so weak yet completed and happy in my life.

After that, she borrowed my bathroom to take a shower, while I cleaned up the mess we made on the bar's floor. When she was finished, she came out still fully naked, sitting on the bar's chair asking for a glass of scotch. "Really? more drinks??" I was baffled. "Of course! Drinking is number one!" with a smirk on her face(PIC 9). Looking at her breasts suddenly made my dick standing hard rock again, and it was clearly visible to her. Suddenly, she smiled naughtily and whispered, "Hey, wanna go another roulette round after this?" -End

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #fromis 9 smut #fromis 9 #lee saerom #saerom

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lewmagoo · 1 year

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favorite human spotlight

this week, i want to mention the ever talented @delopsia!

i don’t know where to begin with this one. del, you are such an integral part of this community. your creativity is something to behold. just when i think you can’t possibly outdo yourself, you post something new that tops everything else. i distinctly remember reading your work for the first time. i saw some mutuals reblogging your stuff so i checked it out and i knew right then and there i had a new favorite write. you’re part of the handful of people i can say i trust rhett with. you write him so beautifully, so deeply. you truly understand his character and i love every new headcanon and quirk you give to him. not only that, but you’ve created such a beautiful universe for bob/rhett/reader. the lore you’ve created, is all so fascinating and enjoyable to read. every time you post a new installment or headcanon, i get so excited 🤭

now, it’s really hard for me to narrow your works down to just two because honestly i love every single thing you’ve ever put out. however! these are two pieces that touched me the most, and i will tell you why.

flowers in november - this is hands down my favorite series i have ever read on here. i can’t even begin to describe how much i loved it. it has the perfect mix of mystery, tension, romance, and so much more. i devoured the whole thing in one sitting because i couldn’t stop reading. it touched me so deeply and i think about it often. not only that, but the way you weaved mythology throughout the story was fantastic. i loved the fact that rhett had a golden touch, to me it just made sense. it’s just such a cool reimagining of the show. i am so glad you decided to share this story with us. i know you worked so hard on it.

dancing beneath the moon - this story stayed with me long after i read it. i was glued to it from the first paragraph, so eager to know what was going to happen next. i mean, ghost rhett?! sign me up. there were parts that made me snicker (like rhett scaring trevor off), parts that warmed my heart, and especially, parts that made me cry like a baby. when i got to the part where rhett and reader are reunited, i had tears streaming down my cheeks. the entire moment leading up to it just….AGHHH, i have no words, i remember saying “BITCH!!!” out loud because i knew rhett was there to save the day. SO GOOD. and then the lore?! and rhett’s killer being You Know Who? i said “i fucking knew it!” anyway! sorry i am getting carried away, i just adore this story so much and i have reread it so many times. it’s too good.

thank you for all you do around here! you are invaluable!

#favorite human spotlight

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explicit-tae · 1 year

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Carnal Desire (1/3)

The last person you expected to see was an ‘old friend’ from nearly a decade ago, but you’re determined to show the man that you’re no longer the little girl he use to know. @bloodline1632 @seokjinkismet @babycandy111

Word Count: 2.070

Warning: smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, haegeum type vibes fr fr, grinding, finger sucking, the reader is down bad, but so is yoongi, kissing, sucking,

“You’ll do amazing, really!” Bunny - your co-worker - says as she pats the highlighter upon your cheekbones. “You’re already on your way to becoming a favorite.”

You take a deep breath and nod.

“Please stay focused. We have very important people tonight.”

And there it was, your nerves kicking back in once more.

You only been here for a week - the high end strip club is more than you imagined. You often thought it would be littered with creeps and smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes - but maybe you just chose the right one.

Your name is being called now and from behind the curtains, you notice the lights dim, and the red spotlight appears. You clicked your heels, rounding the curtain and made your way towards the middle of the stage. It’s amazing how you were able to turn your nerves off when needed be - you were highly grateful that you didn’t need any liquid courage to do so.

Bunny was correct when she said it would be a busy night - and the important people she spoke of had to be front and center. You sway your hips to the pole, hooking a leg around it and swinging as you do - a routine you practiced for the past two days.

You often don’t look into the crowd while performing - you were a natural overthinker and the last thing you needed was to mess up in front of a group of men. However, this was different. You had important people here tonight and your boss informed each dancer tonight to “appear” available and interested.

You regret taking her advice.

You drop to your knees slow and sultry, crawling towards the edge of the stage. Smoking typically wasn't allowed, but important guests always got their way. Your eyes focus on the man smoking and you froze.

Those eyes - such cold and feline-like eyes. They flash in your mind and you were brought back to your childhood; specifically your teenage years. As the smoke clears, as does your vision on the man - pale, porcelain-like skin, hard eyes and a low smirk on his lips.

Yoongi.

Min Yoongi was before you. He was the important guest tonight - he looked it. Even in the sea of people, you can smell the expensive cologne mixed with the nicotine smell. He appeared clean shaven and had not aged since you last saw him a decade prior.

Yoongi brings the cigarette back into his lips, his fingers curling as he does so. Your eyes glance to his hands, large and veiny and full of shining diamonds.

Your eyes begin to grow dry and you blink. You finally inhale to not have your head go any more lightheaded than necessary.

You hear a hiss of your name and your body immediately reacts. You begin to crawl once more, your eyes on nobody but Yoongi now. He furrows a brow and appears amused and curious.

Min Yoongi was before you.

Your Min Yoongi.

The same Min Yoongi that your father despised - called him a thug and everything but a decent human being. Father’s never approved of their little girls being hooked on an older man - but he was only two years older; if that. The same Min Yoongi who you had once admitted to loving during too many drinks and even when you insisted on showing him you weren’t a little girl, he never took advantage of your advances.

Min Yoongi was before you now - and you weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a woman that grew into her curves and appearance, and you were determined to show him just that.

It’s crazy to think that just one look at him made you feel as you did as a teenager - shy, but willing, giddy and wanting to prove yourself to him.

Yoongi leans closer to the stage just as you lean forward. Your manicured hand grasps his large ones and grasps the cigarette. You were never a smoker - he knows this. But he only smirks as you take a puff of it and blow it at him.

Your time was up, but your eyes linger onto Yoongi’s longer as you exit the stage. You feel it all fall on you at once - the nerves and nausea. Yoongi was here. He had seen you like this - what was he thinking? Has he remembered you?

“What was that?” Bunny heels slam against the floor as she rushes to you. “Do you know who that is?”

Yes. “No.”

Bunny’s eyes widened. “You don’t know who Suga is?”

Suga. Yoongi must have made another name for himself. He was once someone your father considered bad news and you can only guess what he was into back then - but Yoongi is a man now. He surrounded himself with men, him directly in the middle. He was an important member of whatever society he ran with; you didn’t really care much to ask.

“I was told to entertain the guests.” you shrug your shoulders. “Suga seems to be a very important person.”

Bunny nods with wide eyes. “Extremely. He dabbles in organized crime and is one of our biggest spenders here. You-”

“Y/N.”

You freeze, as does Bunny.

“I’m dead.” you murmur to Bunny who slowly nods.

Your boss’ eyes are upon you when you turn. Her arms are crossed as she motions you to follow her.

“I-I didn’t mean-”

“You aren’t in trouble.” your boss murmurs as you saunter towards her. “Seems like your little stunt caught Suga’s eye. He never pays for a dance.”

Yoongi did remember you.

Your heart races as your boss points to the back rooms, the further room in the back. The only room without a camera.

You look yourself over in the mirror. Your hair appeared to be in place still, as did your makeup. Your lingerie hugs you nicely and your heels were just an added bonus.

It grows hotter and quieter as you make your way down the hall to the back room - a V.I.P section. You slide the door open and make your way in. Yoongi is seated upon the round, leather section. The room is surrounded with mirrors and low lights. On the table forward him is a large bottle of champagne - the most expensive there was at the club - and two glasses.

“Sit.” Yoongi says as you close the door behind you. He goes to pour both glasses of champagne, handing you one as you round the table.

“Thank you.” you murmur. It takes everything in you not to melt - but you are grown now and no longer the shy teenage girl.

You sit on his lap, legs swinging to trap him between your thighs. Your eyes meet his as you drink the champagne.

Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips as he leans back into the couch. He doesn’t go to move you from your laps, and even if you did, you wouldn’t leave without a fight. After all, he paid for your services - private dances weren’t cheap and especially not in the V.I.P backroom.

You discard your glass beside you without a care, licking your own lips.

“Y/N…Y/N…”

Your arms are fresh with goosebumps when you hear his voice say your name. He down the champagne, free hand rubbing against your thigh to your waist.

“How much you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” Yoongi finally says as he finishes the champagne, discarding his own glass to the side.

“I can say the same for you…” you begin to roll your hips. “...Suga.” All the girls are informed to not be so close to a client. They paid for a certain amount of time - and in that time you were told to stall, only sitting upon them at the last few minutes of the dance.

Yoongi’s hands are as large as you know them to be, both now cupping your waist.

“How is it that when my name comes from your lips it sounds sweeter than ever before?”

Yoongi’s eyes rack over your figure.

You were no longer the little girl who followed him around against her father’s wishes. No, you were now a woman - a full grown woman who grew into her chest and hips. He recalls the amount of times he (against your own knowledge) would have to assure no creep used your naivety to their advantage.

Yoongi’s girl is what they called you - even back then. No matter how much he told anyone that you were nothing but a close friend to him; someone he would protect because he had a heart.

“Where have you been?” Yoongi allows his curiosity to get the best of him. He was no fool in knowing the pure hatred your father had for him - even if Yoongi never took advantage of your feelings for him. When you were old enough to consider making your own decision, you were shipped far away from Daegu - and that was ten years ago.

You continued your lap dance, your hands placing themselves on his shoulders. Yoongi is but a man and his eyes rack your figure in the tight lingerie, large hands rubbing up your side with a lick of his lips once more.

“My dad sent me to live with my aunt and continue school there.” you respond. “I came back when he got sick.”

Yoongi furrows a brow. Your father was sick. He hasn’t seen the man since he last saw you.

“Dropped out of school to take care of him. Now I’m here.” you roll your hips against the bulge forming in his pants. “With you.”

Yoongi feels your hands rub from his shoulders to his torso.

“What about you, Suga? You seem to have made a name for yourself.”

Yoongi was being far too modest for your liking. You grasp his hands in yours, eyes staring right into his. You allow his hands to roam your body, setting them right onto your breasts.

“I have.” Yoongi murmurs, voice deeper. “I own this city now, baby.”

You swallow at the pet name, leaning closer. You want to capture his lips with your own - they were so rosy and soft.

“I bet you do.” you murmur, warm breath against his lips. “Does someone run it with you?”

Yoongi tilts his head. He gives you a snicker. “You still got that crush, huh?” he teases. He squeezes your breast lightly before his right hand cups your check.

You grow hot at his words, swallowing thickly. You wouldn’t allow him to treat you like the same little girl you once were. You were an adult - you were in control of your own desires.

“It’s more than a crush now. I’m not a little girl.”

Yoongi knows this - he wants to tell you just how much you’ve grown since the last time he saw you.

“I can show you how much it’s grown.”

Yoongi can’t take his eyes from you. Your tongue peeks out and wraps around his thumb. You suck on it, eyes boring into his own. His cock twitches at the sultry act.

“Y/N…”

You moved fast. From sucking onto his thumb to your lips upon his. Your thighs clenched him beneath you tightly, never wanting to let go.

Yoongi loses himself in your touch, arms wrapping around your bare body, touching skin he never knew he would ever long to touch.

Your tongue dances with him, his hands cupping your ass, guiding you to continue to grind against his bulge.

“I want you, Yoongi.” you murmur against his lips.

“I know, baby.” Yoongi grunts. “I know…”

Your teeth clasps down onto his bottom lips, fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Then take me.”

Yoongi shudders, holding onto you even tighter.

“You can have me. All of me.”

Yoongi shakes his head, breathing quickening. Your words ring in his ears non-stop.

“I want to be your girl.” you continue - you refused to hear anything other than approval. “You can have all of me right now and forever.”

Yoongi lips are against the skin of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses. Your words are getting to him, his cock begging to take you.

But you weren’t a common whore - not just some pussy to wet his cock. You were someone he cared for deeply.

“You are my girl.”

Your lips meet his once more and your heart feels satisfied - it’s the same words you wanted to hear for years now.

Part 2 | Part 3

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worldume · 2 months

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TWO DEMONS AND AN ANGEL….

˖┊ spotlight: yamato endo & chika takiishi.

˖┊ synopsis: (name) is endo and chika's favorite coloring book! they love to bully their sweet little lamb into doing things she’s not comfortable with. why? because they can & its fun!

˖┊ content: dark content, power imbalance relationship, bullying, themes of humiliation, implied polygamy, toxic relationship, coerced piercing, christina piercing, needles, alcohol transfer from mouth to mouth, afab reader, she/her pronouns, canonverse but endo and chika own a sleazy tattoo shop, tattoo artist endo, piercer chika for lore purposes, all characters are adults/aged up, endo and chika are awful!

˖┊ word count: 2k.

“you scared?”

“n—no but—” (name) stammered under his gaze, her voice cracking as she struggled to find her words. she averted her gaze from him, finding a sudden interest at chika moving about through the room as he gathered a few things around their shop. it was tucked away in a narrow sketchy alley in japan that looked like the kind of place only those in the know would visit— covered in graffiti and old posters with a flickering neon sign. the place had the vibe of a dive bar.

there was a small furrow in her brows and her lips tugged slightly in a glossy pout. no fair.. no fair!

looking at endo was so.. difficult for a couple reasons. number one: he was so fucking attractive. the kind of attractive that made her shy away from his gaze because she started to feel self conscious about everything little thing. did he like her hair? her makeup? the outfit she wore today? but more importantly, he could be just so mean if someone caught him on a bad day— he was finicky with his moods. and sometimes he didn’t want anyone looking him directly in the eye.

she’s witnessed first hand how brutally yamato beats people into a shell of themselves— weak people who he believes test who’s a poser and who’s not. endo is a pretty laid back guys for the most part, but, he has very little respect and tolerance for those who are weak. he thinks they’re boring, a drag and a complete waste of his fucking time. weak people get under his skin. weak people disgust him. weak people don’t deserve to call themselves human. and he couldn’t stand when weak people paraded around as though they weren’t.

but (name) was weak. so it makes her wonder why he keeps her around— why the both of them keep her around.. they’re not laughing at her behind her back right? she helps around.. sure she wasn’t the strongest person physically but she has uses.. or at least that’s what she tells herself.

you see, (name) is a pushover. a people pleaser. and a pathetic excuse for a spine. which is precisely why endo initially took such an interest to the girl— the irony, right? endo was just.. so tickled by it he giggled like a little kid who was told their first joke. he’s never seen anyone quite as pitiful as her. but he supposes women were an exception, right? endo almost found it.. cute? (name)’s looks were really the cherry on top of it all— a pretty little bow to wrap his present. just how could someone as pretty as her be such a.. disappointment. endo almost found it to be a waste of a perfectly good vessel, but.. he found that he gained some sort of sick gratification from bullying (name).

it was fun for him. and something to help pass the time when there’s nothing interesting going on. it was sad really— some of the things they made her do were nothing more than mere humiliation tactics that served no real purpose other than to see her actually do everything she’s told. no questions asked. like controlling when she use the bathroom, a “dress code” that usually consisted of micro mini skirts and the requirement of no panties, making her call herself awful things when she fails (bitch, slut and whore are some of noroshi’s favorites), her mouth being used as an ashtray— the list can go on.

‘how did such a sweet girl like (name) get caught up in this crowd?’ is what all the sweet townspeople of makochi ask amongst themselves when they see her on an off chance visiting her mom. but no one would be able to guess that she devoted herself to these men by choice. (name) felt as though she were indebted to endo and chika. that she owed the both of them all of herself because they saved her.

there had been a night where she had found herself walking alone after a night out with her friends, she was a little bit more than tipsy and stumbled across an alley she shouldn’t have. (name) remembers it well— stopping to pull out her phone for her gps. (name) hadn’t have been familiar with the area so she hadn’t been quite sure where she was. there was a voice behind her and all she knows is that she was being grabbed— she remembers screaming for help and thinking that it was her end. but that’s when they came to help her.

she remembers endo’s eyes that night when he got on one knee to match her level— her eyes drifting to chika who stood behind him. (name) couldn’t have been more thankful, they were her saviors..

that was then but now (name) felt as though she were walking on a pit of eggshells and thin ice— something seemingly so simple as holding the eye contact he was so insistent on made her feel uneasy sometimes which was so unfortunate because he has such pretty eyes. as much as she admired him, endo often used eye contact as a tool for intimidation— borderline a threat specifically for her alone. probably because he knew the only real thing he had to do was give her a look and she would submit— cowering like a scared little lamb so scared of getting gobbled right up by the big, bad wolf.

endo followed her gaze, tilting his head as his eyes bored into her own. he could admit that she was more than a looker— that sad, kicked puppy look really does something for him.

“but? but but but? but what.” it was a nasty sneer that left from endo’s lips as he mocked her. his lip curling in a way that screamed he was becoming more and more agitated by her hesitation— her lack of immediate compliance. this wasn’t their obedient little love— she was starting to piss him off.

“nothing— i just..” she trailed off. “will it hurt..? what if i cry?” she asked, looking up at him with the sweetest look. (name) were so naive it hurt. god— he could skull fuck her right now and he knew she’d absolutely love every single moment of it.

“sweetpea, you said you’d do anything for us. you didn’t lie to me did you?” he asked, brows furrowed as though he were actually hurt at the implication he just pulled from his book of manipulation.

“no..! of course not..!” she shook her head quickly.

“then a little pain shouldn’t be an issue, right? all the fights and trouble we get in for you isn’t even comparable.” there is was— he always did this. make her feel like she didn’t appreciate all that they’ve done for her which was her biggest fear.

“yeah, you’re right.. o–okay.. okay.” she let out a shaky breath as she nodded, a small smile growing on her lips as she felt endo’s hand pat her head.

“takiishi~ our little love’s all done bein’ a crybaby. c’mon.” he said.

chika sits down onto the roller stool, scooting over smoothly while the wheels squeaked over the cracked floor tiles so that he’s nestled in between her legs now. he spreads her lips apart, his eyes low as he watches how she clenches around nothing. hm. was she scared or was this arousal? it wouldn’t be the first time chika’s suspected she gets off on that kind of thing..

“wait— please!” panic rose in her chest, her cheeks heating up as she captured chika’s eyes. her pussy was completely bare before him, her thighs raided with tattoos that were more like brands as they stated slogans like ‘property of noroshi,’ ‘endo was here :),’ chika’s initials, and other dehumanizing phrases tattooed on her. to anyone else these could be perceived as insulting and degrading but for (name), she wore each proudly. of course the first time endo talked her into she had her reservations but she really just couldn’t say no, could she?

“will it hurt?” chika hadn’t responded, only opting in for a stare before endo spoke up once again.

“how about this? we’ll give you somethin’ that’ll take the edge off, alright?” he clasped his hands together before spinning on his heel to walk over to a counter where he snagged a bottle of vodka. “some old fashioned anesthesia.” endo smiled as he turned back around, walking back over to her where she laid.

she eyed the bottle with a look of hesitation on her face— it’s contents half full as the clear liquid sloshed around in the thick glass container. “yamato.. i don’t like to drink..”

“what?” he raised his brow as he twisted off the cap. “you know, you really shouldn’t mumble, sweetheart. i can’t hear a damn word you say.” but endo knew good and well that heard her as clear as day.

“n—nothing.. ‘m sorry. let’s do it..”

“no shot glasses or anything fancy like that but— i like doing it like this.” his hand finds its way to the crown of her head to tilt her head at an angle. he takes a swig of the vodka, holding it in his mouth for a moment before leaning in close to her and pressing his lips to her own. endo transfers the liquid in a slow controlled flow, the alcohol passing from one mouth to the other.

“mmf..!” the taste is awful and (name) told herself she’d never be able to get used to it but the warmth she was starting to feel a few seconds later seemed to help with her anxiety just a bit.

endo crouched down a bit to her level on piercing bed, an obnoxious smile on his lips as he watches on.

chika’s gloved hands aligned the needle, hovering just above the skin as the sharp tip gleamed under the light. his moment is skillfully controlled, fingers firm but gentle— the cold metal of the needle presses lightly against the flesh, the sensation a mix of cool steel and the warmth of skin contact. just before the needle penetrates, there’s a brief pause..

(name) let out a shriek as she felt the needle pierce through her flesh— the initial sensation was sharp, a pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. her toes curled and her hand flew to endo’s dark locks, involuntarily pulling his head back as her body started to writhe and lift at the pain. but it had been over as soon as it happened— chika’s fingers were nimble and worked quickly as he threaded the dainty jewelry through. the pain shifted into a dull ache and a sense of relief washed over her when chika spoke: “it’s finished.”

“fuck yeah— let’s see it.” endo said as he reached for the hand mirror sitting on the tray stand beside chika. (name) couldn’t help the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, a sniffle or two escaping from her lips.

there was slight throb where the jewelry laid as she sat up to look down at the mirror. the gem was her favorite color— she had to admit that it looked pretty good.

“she’s gonna be outta commission for a while, baby.” endo cooed at her. “you like?”

“yeah.. it’s cute.” she giggled breathlessly. “i did.. i did good, right?” (name) asked, her eyes screaming for approval.

“so good— let’s take a picture and show the guys, yeah?”

#wind breaker #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker x you #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker smut #wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #yamato endo #yamato endo x reader #chika takiishi #chika takiishi x reader #endo x reader #chika x reader #satoru nii wind breaker #cw needles #cw toxic relationship #cw dark content

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blindmagdalena · 18 days

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Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter three)

18+ 3.8k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, eventual smut. chapter 3/8. fic directory. AO3.

Now that he's got you all to himself, it's clear that Homelander has no intention of letting you go. For the sake of your own survival, you have no choice but to adopt his madness and play along with his domestic fantasy.

Homelander is insane.

You don’t know how to reconcile the hero of Vought’s marketing with this man, whose very presence unnerves you. There’s something uncanny about the way he moves, speaks, even the way he smiles at you. It all feels simultaneously practiced, and yet like he’s never actually spoken one on one to another human being.

The sentiment spins in your mind like a record, the melody scratchy and discordant. It’s as though you’ve fallen into some kind of bizzaro dimension where up is down, the sky is green, and Vought’s golden hero is a delusional kidnapping maniac who premeditated your abduction to the point of filling his home with a perfectly curated wardrobe for you. Even the products in the bathroom mirror your own.

You are home.

The conviction with which he said it gives you goosebumps. In the moment you’d been numb, trapped somewhere between reality and dream. That feeling–some mixture of shock and whatever he drugged you with–lingers with you even now, like you’ll wake up from this nightmarish fantasy at any moment.

You smooth your hands down your body, now clad in unfamiliar silk that feels cool and expensive against your skin. The sleep wear fits you like a glove. It’s your favorite color. It could have been pulled straight from your own closet if not for the lack of wear and the undoubtedly exorbitant price tag. All for wearing to bed.

Bed.

Nerves flutter in your gut like caged birds. You give yourself one last lingering look in the mirror. Washed and lotioned with the menagerie of products left for you, you’re unable to stall in the bathroom any longer. You’re as “comfortable” as you’re going to get, and Homelander’s waiting for you.

The thought makes you shiver. You can still feel his hands on your wrists like phantom shackles. From the moment he snapped and grabbed you, shocking you with immeasurable inhuman strength, you knew you were going to have to proceed with extreme caution. There’s something deeply wrong with him, and you’re terrified of what else he’s capable of.

What if you’re not the first person he’s done this to?

Worse than that thought, what if you’re not the last?

It’s a short walk back to the bedroom, the way lit by the dim spotlights that hang over the portraits that litter the walls. There’s an eeriness to the penthouse that makes you feel as though you’re walking through an empty museum after hours. The glossy wood flooring is as cold as tile beneath your bare feet, every part of this place hard and manufactured. It feels more like an enclosure than a home.

Even more bizarre than the decor is the layout itself. You haven’t seen the whole place yet–he had insisted a tour was for daylight hours–but rounding the corner from the living room takes you to an open alcove that serves as his bedroom. You hesitate in the open hall, struck by the sight of yourself reflected a dozen times over in the mirrors that make up his bedroom walls and ceiling, and Homelander himself already tucked into bed, his torso bare.

Your stomach flips. He smiles at you, beckoning you with a nod towards the empty side of the bed. Anxiety crawls up your spine like an insect with every step you take towards the bed, worsened by the open anticipation he watches you with. It goes against your every instinct to move closer to him.

Just as you reach the bed, he flips the blanket down for you. You tense, gaze dipping, but you’re relieved to find that he is not entirely nude. He’s wearing sleep pants with a thin band that nicely hugs the sharp jut of his hip, following the slight curve of his stomach. He’s leaner than the chiseled exaggeration of his suit implies, but his strength is no illusion. His hand felt like a steel vice around your wrist, his pull like being guided by a freight train.

Homelander clears his throat and your eyes snap back up to his. You realize all at once you’ve been standing there in silence staring for far too long at his half-exposed body. Embarrassment hits in a hot rush and you mumble some kind of half formed apology, busying yourself with slipping into the bed, lingering at the edge.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, watching you settle on your back and tug the blanket over yourself. “Like what you see?” he asks, smiling crookedly. Though he claims he has no intention of eating you, you wouldn’t know it by the look in his eyes. He has all the intensity of a bird of prey watching a rabbit skitter through an open field.

Not knowing how to respond, you stare wordlessly at him. You notice the asymmetry of his mouth for the first time, how it curves on one side. Christ, why can’t you stop staring at him like this? Every time you try to formulate a response–something, anything–the words get jumbled up in your throat, threatening to choke you. At a loss, you roll onto your side, putting your back to him and screwing your eyes shut. The bed dips suddenly and an arm slipping around your waist startles you into a jerk, your body going tense.

“Jeeze, so jumpy,” he laughs, breath hot on the nape of your neck. He pulls your body flush against his, your soft curves fitting seamlessly against his wrought iron edges. His strength is impossible to ignore, inhuman and titanous. You can feel it in every part of him, but nowhere more keenly than in the flex of his arm as it encircles you, pinning you against him.

He sighs into the crook of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve really been looking forward to this,” he murmurs, his words nearly beneath the thunderous racket of your own heart in your ears. Your body is awash in heat, and not just from the flush rolling through you. He’s as hot as a furnace at your back, as if his skin conducts heat just as well as the steel he feels made from.

If there was any doubt before that you had no choice but to yield to him, it’s evaporated now. He could crush you without so much as a second thought if he decides you don’t fit whatever elaborate fantasy he’s created in his mind. He could make you disappear.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging the shell of your ear with his nose. “I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?”

The pressure of a sob swells up in your throat, the reality of your situation folding in on you with the weight of the world, but you choke it back. Hesitantly, you place your hand over his forearm and squeeze, hoping it will be enough of an answer to appease him.

You feel his smile in the way he caresses the sensitive flesh of your neck with his mouth. In turn, he squeezes you against his chest like a child would his new favorite toy, covetous and possessive. It makes you wonder what sort of boy he’d been: was he the sort to be precious with his toys, or was he the sort who wore them threadbare before looking for the next new and shiny thing?

“‘Atta girl.”

Although sleep doesn’t come easily, it does at least come eventually. The room is dark, but not pitch black, and the ambient sounds of high altitude winds spilling in from his open windows are surprisingly soothing, better than the scratchy ocean recordings you usually drift to.

The exhaustion you experience in the aftermath of your abduction overtakes you, pitching you into a deep slumber. You spend the night dreaming a tumultuous mix of reality and nightmare, some aspects exaggerated while others play out perfectly as they were. The truth of your situation is nightmarish enough without any theatrics from your imagination.

Waking up in Homelander’s bed for the second time is no less disorienting than it was the first time. Last night returns to you in bits and pieces, but nothing grounds you in reality as swiftly as the heavy arm looped around your waist, and the steady warm breaths wafting over the back of your neck, giving you goosebumps. His other arm is stretched out under your pillow, his hand resting palm up by the edge of it.

Is he asleep…?

“G’morning,” Homelander purrs, giving a firm squeeze around your middle. Not asleep, which leaves you wondering how long he’s been awake, assuming the man actually does sleep. There’s been no lack of speculation towards how human supes really are or aren’t, whether they need to eat or rest the way regular humans do. Especially those as powerful as Homelander.

The sleepy slur and fray of his voice gives you hope that he does, though. On top of everything else, it would be too unsettling a horror to learn that he doesn’t.

“Morning,” you give back after a beat, hating how meek your voice is. The tension in your body makes everything sound tight and forced. You see his fingers flex just before he curls his arm inward, hand clutching your shoulder to embrace you.

“I don’t know about you,” he says in your ear, lips brushing the shell of it as he speaks. “But that was the best damn night of sleep I’ve ever had.”

That solves that, you suppose.

The silence that follows makes you realize he was prompting you.

“Same.” The lie hitches in your throat like a hiccup.

Another pause, and then Homelander is shifting, uncoiling his arms from around you and lifting up on his side. With a hand on your shoulder he turns you on to your back, bringing you to face him. You meet his gaze, but something about the look in his eyes turns your gut cold. There’s no softness in the lines of his face, not even thinning tethers of patience. There’s simply… nothing.

“Don’t ever lie to me,” he says, his voice set low and strangely hollow. “You’re free to do whatever you want. Except for that. Understand?”

Your throat clicks on a dry swallow. The weight of his stare makes it hard to breathe. You nod.

“Tell me you understand,” he says slowly, each perfectly annunciated word dripping with malice. There’s no pleading in his voice the way there had been last night. He’s composed entirely of cold and hard lines that make you feel caged, the bars shrinking around you.

“I understand,” you choke out.

Just like that, the lines at the corners of his eyes soften, crinkling with his smile. He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. The abruptness of the shift is enough to give you whiplash, leaving you dazed. For just a moment, he was another person entirely.

“That’s my girl,” he says, seeming to savor every word on his tongue. Dumbstruck, you watch him climb out of bed, swinging his arms in a slow stretch.

“Uhm,” you start, clearing your voice of the faint tremor in it. “I should, uh… Call someone. Work. They’re going to be worried if–”

“Already taken care of,” he cuts in, lifting his suit from the suit rack next to the bed. Your eyes dart to the crumpled one he shed the night before, still in a pile. How many of those does he have? “Everyone you know is under the impression that you had a mild stress-induced nervous breakdown, and are currently on an impromptu vacation in Europe, totally off the grid,” he says with a smile, sliding his hand smoothly through the air.

You pale. Whenever work came to be too much, you’ve joked about disappearing like that, but would anyone actually believe you have? You suddenly regret the plethora of hyperbolic existential posts you’ve made.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, feeling sick.

Homelander, on the other hand, looks as bright as the morning sun. “So! Who’s ready for breakfast?”

Regardless of whether or not cooking is enjoyable, it’s always a reliable routine. Breakfast perhaps most of all. Eggs, toast, bacon and whatever fruit is in season. You find all these things and more in dizzying variety and proportion in Homelander’s lavish kitchen.

The eggs are large and brown, the bacon wrapped in butcher's paper rather than plastic, and cut in thick strips. The artisanal loaf of bread has a perfectly crisp golden crust, soft on the inside as you slice it. It’s everything you know, but elevated.

The opulence feels weighted. It makes you wonder how you could ever be expected to pay for any of this. How you could be worth any of this. Every ounce of silky butter you swipe over the piece of artisan toast in your hand feels like another smattering of grave soil peppering you from above, burying you deeper than you already are.

You don’t owe him for any of this. You didn’t ask for it. Regardless, you lick an excess smear of jam from your thumb–the color of it as red and vibrant as fresh blood–and all at once you are Persephone taking the pomegranate seeds between her lips. There is a terrible feeling of complicitness in this, despite that you’re only trying to survive.

Homelander lurks behind you while you cook, observing from a slight distance with an idyllic smile, his hands clasped behind his back. While you’re still wearing your pajamas, he’s wearing his hero suit again, the bulk of it returning to him his larger than life silhouette.

The silence he observes you in is unnerving, making everything else too loud in comparison. It would be nice if he’d at least sit. Instead, you’re keenly aware of the oppressive weight of his expectant gaze the entire time you cook.

“Looks delicious,” he says, his voice suddenly so close that you startle, the butterknife slipping from your hand and clattering on the marble countertop. His gloved hands cup your elbows and squeeze, soothing and overly familiar. “Oops-a-daisy,” he laughs, as if you’re just clumsy. His hands stroke slowly up and down your arms.

You snatch the knife up from the countertop and dutifully wipe away the jam splatter with a dishtowel. “I hope you like it,” you say distractedly, heart racing.

“How could I not?” he asks in that same low, pleased tone. He gives your arms an excited little shimmy before releasing them, reaching around either side of you to grab each plate. You feel his chest against your back, where he lingers just a second too long. “You made it just for me, after all.”

He moves away from you, taking the plates with him to the small round table near the floor to ceiling windows. The view from his penthouse is stunning–overlooking the entire city, all the way out to the waterfront–but it’s also dizzying. It unsettles your stomach to sit so close to the window, the size of them making it feel as though there’s nothing between you and a hundred story fall.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” He asks, settling down across from you.

You look from the window to him. He wastes no time splaying a cloth napkin in his lap and picking up his utensils, though he never takes his eyes off of you. You’re not sure he ever does. “Uh…Not particularly. I just don’t think I’ve ever been up so high,” you say, draping your own napkin similarly in your lap. Never has breakfast felt like such a formal affair.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says confidently, jabbing his knife into the yolk of his egg to spread over his buttered toast. “I’ll take you flying again. You’ll be conscious this time around,” he chuckles, flipping a piece of bacon on top as well.

Your gut tightens, toast paused halfway to your parted lips. You gawk at him. It’s difficult to comprehend how someone can be so beyond reproach, so intensely cavalier about something like drugging you into unconsciousness and kidnapping you.

I saved you. That his voice already lives in your mind–correcting you–is sickening in and of itself. Your already tenuous appetite vanishes, but you take a bite of the toast out of spite. The jam’s farm fresh sweetness is tart, though it’s offset perfectly by the savory sea salt richness of the butter.

It’s as exquisite as it is repulsive.

A crisp snap brings your attention abruptly back to Homelander, whose hand is still poised in the air, his thumb and middle finger pressed together. His hand falls away once he has your attention, his smile returning. “That good, huh? Looked like you went a million miles away.”

If only, you seethe, taking another bite of the toast. You use the moment to chew, swallowing the anger over being snapped at alongside your mouthful of food.

“It’s delicious,” you say, curating your words carefully. Don’t ever lie to me, his words echo again, helping you to shape a mental survival guide. Feeling his eyes on you, you meet them. His smile widens a touch, though you don’t think it quite reaches his eyes. He’s appraising you like one might an exhibit at a museum.

Glancing down at his plate, you notice he hasn’t really eaten his breakfast so much as he’s toyed with it. It’s all just cut apart, yellow egg yolk oozing slowly across the pristine white plate. “Is there something wrong with yours?” you ask with a lurch of anxiety. He’s drugged you once already.

“Not at all,” he beams with clean white teeth, hands resting in loose fists on either side of his plate. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

The strange earnestness of the compliment stuns you. “Thank you,” you say uneasily, still not convinced there wasn’t something in the jam, or maybe the butter.

His smile broadens and this time it reaches all the way up, crinkling his eyes at their outer corners. There’s a sort of pride in his expression that makes you feel like a dog that’s finally learned the trick he’s been trying to teach you.

“Whelp,” he sighs, clapping his hands together as he stands. “As much as I hate to go, duty calls,” he says, sliding his chair back beneath the table. Rounding it, he holds his hand out to you. “Walk me out?” he asks, his smile gleaming with predator charm. You only hesitate briefly before slipping your hand into his, reminding yourself to choose your battles wisely.

He lifts you to your feet with such ease it makes your stomach flip, breath hitching in your throat. He doesn’t let go of your hand, choosing to keep it snug within his grasp as he walks you through the decorated halls of his penthouse. There’s scarcely a space untouched by decor, making even these spacious corridors feel claustrophobic, dozens of carved and painted eyes leering at you as you pass.

The tour of the penthouse had been brief, awkward. He hadn’t especially known what to say about each room, giving you more facts about the artwork than anything. The lack of personal effects only make the place feel even more like a museum than it had before.

The only pictures of him were Vought promotional material. Not a single photo of him outside of his suit. No trace of family or childhood. Just The Homelander.

He holds your hand all the way up to a set of double doors made from dark wood, where he stops and turns to face you. “Thanks for breakfast,” he says with a picture perfect pearly white smile. Not a speck of food to be found. Uncomfortable with how fixated you’ve become on the condition of his teeth, you force your attention back on his eyes and nod.

“You’re welcome.”

He leans closer, and you have to fight the urge to lean back.

“Will you kiss me goodbye?”

You blink, the question striking you in the same way his compliment had, but for a different reason. In the wake of asking, his smile has lost that razor sharp edge it usually carries. Like his eyes, it’s softer now. More boyish. There’s a level of nervous apprehension in it that’s a stark contrast from his usual smugness. Yet again it hardly feels like you’re even looking at the same person.

Swallowing dryly, you bring your hand to the underside of his strong jaw. His skin is warm under your fingers, and he leans readily into your touch. You can feel the tension in the muscle beneath his cleanly shaven face as you turn it away, simultaneously moving in to press your lips to his cheek.

When you pull away, he’s staring sidelong at you, his face still turned away, his thin lips parted. For a beat, you think he’s going to be upset, but you realize quickly that the heat you see rushing to his cheeks isn’t anger. It’s a blush. Of all the ways you expected him to react, bashful was not among them.

“Okie-dokie,” he says, suddenly sheepish, and the tension in your shoulders drains as he relinquishes your other hand, busying himself with slipping off one of his gloves. “Should be home around 4:00, but I might be able to squeeze out closer to 3:00,” he says, tossing you a conspiratory little wink. As if you should be as excited as he is at the thought.

You watch him reach for a black plate next to the door handle, which he slides up to reveal a sleek number pad with a glowing blue circle, which he presses his thumb to. The circle turns green, and you hear a mechanism unlatch. Your stomach drops. All at once you understand why he brought you all the way to the door. He wanted you to see this.

“Pretty nifty, huh?” he asks, sliding his glove back on. “State of the art,” he says with a grin, pulling the door open. Over his shoulder, you see nothing but a long, long hall and a distant elevator at the end of it. You consider screaming down it to see if anyone might hear you, but the noise gets stuck in your throat. Even if they heard you, no one would reach you in time.

Homelander steps through the threshold, lingering in the doorway, leaning partially inside. “Don’t you worry,” he says, taking in the stricken expression you wear. He looks pleased with himself. “You’ll be perfectly safe. No way anyone’s getting in or out–aside from me, that is.”

He offers a few parting words, but they distort into unintelligible static. The door closes. That green circle turns blue, and the locking mechanism echoes in your ears like the slam of a prison gate. Turning around, you stare down the lengthy corridor you came from, your ears buzzing with the eerie quietness of the penthouse.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

#this chapter ran a bit long but yay! reader pov!#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #x reader #homelander #my writing #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere boyfriend

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pamsimmer · 8 months

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LUNAR PHASES CHALLENGE

My very first challenge and I'm excited? haha

When I was looking for occults challenge to play I found a lot of witches and vampire type of things, but I don't quite remember seeing a werewolf one.

These three occults are my favorites (unfortunately I kind of ignore the others because you know... meh, not as fun to play with them. But maybe one day I'll try to make a mermaid challenge)

Down here you're gonna find the rules and guidelines for each gen. You don't have to follow strictly the rules if you don't want to, I know it can be annoying sometimes. And also I made it short for those who prefer shorter challenges (like me).

I just hope you have fun!

[edit: a friend made the graphic rules and it looks amazing. if you prefer it like this: HERE]

Rules:

You must reside only in the occults’s worlds, but preferably in Moonwood Mill (You can always kick your family out and pretend you’re living in another place hehe)

Start as YA, any gender

You can use cheats if you want.

Heir must be a werewolf

Normal or Long Lifespan

You don’t have to max all these skills, but it would be nice if you at least worked on them all your sims lives

When I put ( / ) is because you can choose what you prefer or if you don’t have said pack you can choose the base game one.

Requirements: Werewolves, Snowy Scape, Get Together, Get To Work

GENERATION 1: Waxing Crescent

You grew up close to the Moonwood Collective, they are basically your family and you learned how to be a good sim and not hurt others. You prefer to lock yourself up than to behave like an animal in front of others. You always loved art/writing and your hobby is to play piano. You don’t like the spotlight because of your werewolf tendencies, so you chose a more “reclusive” career.

Traits: Proper/Snob, Bookworm, Good

Aspiration: The Emissary of the Collective

Skills: Charisma, Piano/Painting, Writing

Career: Painter or Writer (It can be the freelance career if you prefer)

Volunteer with family (or alone) at least once a week

Your partner can be any gender, can be human or even another type of occult, as long as the heir is a werewof.

Get married to your partner and never divorce. You two were made for each other

GENERATION 2: Waning Gibbous

Your parents wanted you to be as perfect as they are, but you’re not them. You have your own personality and your own desires. You’re a rebel. You love being a werewolf and you feel powerful when you show others who you are. The only thing you got from your parent was the love for music, but you are more of a guitar type of sim. And you want to be the leader of your own pack.

Traits: Mean, Active, Kleptomaniac

Aspiration: Wildfang Renegade

Skills: Mischief, Fitness, Guitar

Career: Criminal or perform only odd jobs and have a part time job

Meet your friends at the bar every weekend

Have a “fight club” club

Get pregnant/get your girlfriend pregnant as a teen (if your sim is a boy: don’t assume the responsability / if your sim is a girl: give the baby to someone else. you can keep the child close to you if you want to play with them later, in case it’s a werewolf)

Get married as a Young Adult and divorce before become an Adult. You can find love again, but if you don’t, that’s okay. (preferably die alone :)

One day your sims is gonna teach their teen kid (the heir) how to fight. You’re take them to Greg and let them fight Greg… alone.

GENERATION 3: Full Moon

You never got along with your parent. You actually hate them. You prefer to be alone, you’re like a hurt puppy that attacks others who tries to come closer to you. But you’re very sweet on the inside. And finally one day you find the love of your life and you have a beautiful family together.

Traits: Loner, Gloomy, Hot-Headed

Aspiration: Lone Wolf

Skills: Gardening, Handiness, Fishing

Career: Gardner or Fisherman (and perform odd jobs)

If you chose gardner: go fishing every weekend, if you chose fisherman: have a garden

Live off the grid, at least until you get married (after that you can go back to society again if you want to. But it’s not mandatory)

Have at least two kids

GENERATION 4: New Moon

You grew up in a loving family. You have so many plans for your life, but you don’t want to be a werewolf forever. You spent your teenager years reading werewolf books and you got the Lunar Epiphany and learned how to make the cure. Maybe you’re the one who breaks the family’s curse, right? and you want to be a super parent because your own parent inspired you.

Traits: Genius, Family-Oriented, Loyal

Aspiration: Cure Seeker

Skills: Logic, Parenting, Baking/Gourmet Cooking

Career: Doctor/Astrounaut

Find love when you are already a human and be the best parent you can be!

Go out on dates at least once a week with your partner, and when you have a child go out at least once a week with your family.

#the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 gameplay #ts4 simblr #simblr #the sims community #sims 4 werewolves #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 simblr #ts4 legacy #legacy challenge #werewolf legacy challenge #sims 4 challenge

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