#just tell their story to a person who knows nothing about them and I assure you they'll think it's a tale of unrequited love

[morphestic]

dazai and oda are a tragic story with unrequited love and the fandom is reading it with their eyes closed.

[ja3yun]

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer: ch.1 | pop your cherry

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader warnings: smut (mdni), oral (m.rec), blue balls, murder, mentions of blood, sex work (use of words tart card and prostitute), set in the 90's london, heeseung is a loser, anything else lmk wc: 11.2k ch.1 synopsis: determined to lose his virginity, heeseung follows his friend's plan and ends up hiring you to pop his cherry, little does he know that he'll walk out of that room something much worse than a virgin a/n: hi! this is the first instalment of iavnam and i am so so so excited to share this with you all. this is a silly, fun fic that i hope you can enjoy but i will say that it has some moments of angst throughout. feedback, comments, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated and i hope you give loser!hee a chance

masterlist | chapter 2

“What am I going to do? I can’t enter working life a virgin.” Heeseung sighs, rubbing his temples as he complains.

Heeseung is a gentle soul, the type of boy you read about in novels or see in cheesy romance films. No, he’s not the bad boy with a hidden heart of gold or the burly football player with a secret love for the arts. Heeseung is the overlooked best friend, the quiet boy pining from the sidelines, the introverted geek who spends his Fridays alone while the girl he loves rushes off with the popular guy.

At 22, Heeseung has never been with a girl. He can’t even look at one for more than ten seconds without sweating or mumbling about the new Toy Story film that was released last year. And with only two months left before he graduates, the thought of entering the adult world as a virgin weighs heavily on him. He might be the only one from the Class of ‘96 who hasn't had this experience, and he feels an urgent need to change that.

He watches his friends with a mix of envy and longing as they get into relationships or have sex with the nearest girl at a party, wishing it could be him for once. All his life, he’s dreamt of a perfect romance where a boy meets a girl, they fall in love, and share their first time.

All in all, Heeseung just wants to be in love with the person he loses himself to. But time is ticking, and he’s starting to realise that his dream of a whirlwind romance might not be feasible. He might have to settle for whatever chance he can get.

“What’s the use in complaining if you aren’t going to talk to a girl for more than a minute?” Jongseong mutters into his beer can, eyes still trained on the Sony Trinitron TV in front of him.

Jongseong has had this conversation with Heeseung so many times that it’s starting to bore him. He understands his best friend’s desire for a meaningful connection; anyone would want that. But Heeseung’s idealism clashes with Jongseong’s pragmatic nature. For months - no, years - he’s been telling Heeseung to either take action or let it go. There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin at any age, and Heeseung used to see it that way too. Yet, for some reason, he’s convinced he’d be the laughingstock of any office if word got around.

All throughout high school, Heeseung was the same: stuttering and twitching whenever a girl looked at him. Jongseong has never seen anyone worship women as Heeseung does while simultaneously being utterly terrified of them.

Heeseung suddenly grabs the can from Jongseong’s hand, stunning him, and slams it onto the coffee table of their apartment. “I’m serious, Jongseong. I’m doing it this time, for real.” There’s determination and fire in his voice, even though his heart is pounding at the thought.

Turning to face him, still in a can-holding position, Jongseong raises an eyebrow. “You’re really going to do it? No wimping out?” he asks incredulously. It’s not that he doesn’t believe his friend’s words; he’s just surprised by how assured Heeseung looks.

Nodding, Heeseung crosses his legs on the couch. “Absolutely! And I have a plan.”

“Oh god, what is it?” Jongseong asks nervously, apprehensive about what kind of plan the virgin has concocted for himself.

Heeseung takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. “Alright, so here’s the deal. I’m going to start small and take baby steps. First, I’ll join a club or a group where I can meet people without the pressure of one-on-one interactions. Maybe a book club or a film society. That way, I can get more comfortable talking to girls in a casual setting.”

Jongseong nods slowly, considering the idea. “Okay, that sounds reasonable. Except all the clubs and meets have stopped now considering it’s two months until summer vacation.” The younger rolls his eyes, picking his can back up. “What other plans do you have?”

There is a silence in the air which pauses Jongseong mid-sip. Scratching the back of his neck, Heeseung sheepishly shrugs and winces at his friend's disappointing gaze. It took him a week to come up with that one plan, hoping that he could ride on the waves of already-formed groups. He did, however, come up with the plan 4 months ago and just has never put it into action, so it is a little outdated.

“It was a solid plan!” he huffs and crosses his arms, pouting like a baby despite being the oldest of the two. “It’s not like I can just phone up a girl on one of those fancy mobiles and ask her to fuck me.”

Jongseong’s ears perk up, eyes widening as if he’s just hit the motherload of all ideas. His excitement makes Heeseung sit up in attention, furrowing his brows as he watches him stand up and turn the TV off. “You’re a fucking genius, Lee.”

Although the compliment settles fondly in his heart, he still doesn’t know why he is a genius nor does he have time to think about it before his best friend drags him by the arm outside of the flat and into the street, striding towards something with tenacity. 

He complains about the grip Jongseong has on him but follows him regardless, feet rushing to keep up the pace as they make their way down the street and into the skirts of the city. Heeseung knows better than to argue with the boy when he is on a mission like this, the last time he did so was when Jongseong went on the hunt for the last Thor comic book, edition #487 and Heeseung told him to just ‘get it another time’. Turns out, everyone and their granny wanted it and with Heeseung constantly holding them up, he missed out on the first press. The boy never heard the end of it and was almost disowned.

So he trails idly behind him until they reach a phone booth. The glass is taped with flyers of missing dogs and Y2K conspiracies, babysitter ads and jobs for hire. It’s a mess, yet Jongseong seems to be looking for something in particular.

“I know I said phoning up a girl, but I hardly think Mystic Michelle sees me in her future,” Heeseung snorts, dipping his hands into his pockets. He refuses to tell Jongseong that in a desperate attempt to find out when he would lose his virginity, he had already phoned a psychic medium who told him, “You’ll lose it when you choose to travel.” Considering he has never and likely will never step foot outside his hometown, he deemed that as his first and last time trusting in the universe’s whispers.

Jongseong, ignoring Heeseung’s quips, searches diligently until he sees the poster hanging inside the booth and immediately whips the door open, dragging the surprised black-haired boy into the tight space with him. With urgency, he tears the number tab off of the bright red poster and thrusts it into Heeseung’s hand.

Pointing to the poster, Jongseong smirks. “She is your ticket out of virginville,” he says playfully yet a serious undercurrent waves through his voice. If Heeseung is going to get laid, and fast, he is going to need a professional.

Heeseung looks closely at the poster and sees a girl in a white-laced thong posing in front of a red background, her left arm covering her plump tits as she sucks on a lollipop. His eyes shake and his head follows, backing up slightly despite the confined space and protesting the idea profusely. “Not a chance, Jongseong! This is prostitution, which by the way, is illegal in this country.”

“I know you’re a saint, okay? But desperate times call for desperate measures.” He shrugs, already putting the 20p coins into the slot and picking up the ringer. “You know Jaeyun lost his virginity this way.”

“Yeah, and she was a 43-year-old mother of 6 who fucked him in her garden shed. He said he got the clap from that!” 

Heeseung is not exaggerating, Jaeyun was so determined to ‘gain experience’ that he chose one of these girls from a traffic light pole and what was promised to be a sexy 21-year-old in his area, turned out to be a mum who needed a quick cash grab before her kids got home from school. Needless to say, he went along with it, already mentally prepared for the pop and then a few weeks later by consequence he was in the sexual health clinic getting tested for an STD. He lost his virginity but also his dignity that day.

Exhaling loudly, Jongseong closes his eyes in frustration. “We can phone and ask for an appointment and if she isn’t this very pretty girl that is offering you a ‘spanking good time with a 22-year-old’ then you can bolt for the hills and we’ll find you someone else.” His tone is coated in disapproval at his friend’s unwillingness to give this brilliant idea of his a chance.

Punching in the numbers, Jongseong holds the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, “You want me to talk?”

Realising he is stuck in a boat without a paddle, Heeseung relents, gesturing for Jongseong to take the reigns of the situation; if he were to be the one to speak to the girl, he would probably vomit. This is the complete opposite of how he had dreamed this would go and Jongseong knows it.

The phone begins to ring and Jongseong shushes the other boy as he waits patiently. It gives Heeseung the chance to look at the lewd poster once again and he can see why this one caught Jongseong’s attention over the other tart cards in the booth. The girl is striking and real, not like some of the page 3 models that have clearly been used to lure these desperate men in, there is a prettiness to her, a charm that pulls attention even through a piece of paper.

“Hello, handsome, how can I be of service?”

Her voice, sweet yet sultry, filters through the phone and dances on the glass panels, sending a shiver down Heeseung's spine and making his knees weak. His eyes widen as he gazes at the poster, imagining that captivating voice belonging to the stunning girl. Surely, it couldn't be her, could it? No one could sound and look so perfect simultaneously.

Jongseong scoffs at Heeseung's reaction to a mere female voice and playfully slaps the back of his head, snapping him out of his reverie within the stuffy confines of the phone booth. He clears his throat and addresses the caller on the other end. “Hi, uh,” he glances at the poster, searching for the name, “Y/N, is it?”

You giggle softly over the phone, twirling the cord attached to your landline. “Yes, what can I help you with?”

It’s been a few days since you put up the flyers and there has already been an abundance of calls coming your way; some old guys looking to rub one out before work, others looking to be degraded, and some even just wanting advice on how best to clean their house before their wives come home.

For you, it’s easy money and a needed break from the work you do other than please pervy men. On days you’re not at home, you’re out working behind the bar at Nice N’ Sleazys, picking up after everyone’s mess and pouring pint after pint while the worst music grates at your ears. 

Sex work, despite its numerous downsides, offers a straightforward way to earn money. Initially, you worked in a brothel just outside the main city, where your tips and pride were stolen by the cruel man who ran it. The girls were lovely, and some of your regulars were kind, but the work and pain were too much for the meagre earnings.

So you left and started managing yourself. The owner didn’t like it, but it was your decision. He wasn’t sad to lose you, but rather the money your regulars brought in. However, his displeasure was short-lived when he found your replacement—someone who brought in more money and was willing to do much more than you ever could.

Despite the challenges and dangers managing yourself has provided you with a sense of independence and control that you did not have when working for someone else. You've learned how to deal with the industry's complexities, setting boundaries and putting your own safety first; even if that meant refusing some of your regulars into your new endeavours. 

The line goes silent and you speak up again, “Can I help you?” you ask gently, still keeping the sex worker persona intact. However, once you hear shuffling in the background with hushed whispers, you quickly drop the act and sigh. “Look, if it’s you boys from the school up the road prank calling me again, I will call your mothers.”

With posting your landline in phone booths comes prank calls, you expect it but you could really use the money this week; your fridge is running on empty and your washing machine has somehow blown up on itself - that’s what you get for buying second-hand from a newspaper ad. Maybe you should have picked up that cleaner job for that mansion in the middle of nowhere while you were buying appliances. 

Customers might be regular but you’re just starting, you can’t charge more than you’re worth.

Jongseong flicks Heeseung’s nose, making him yelp. While you are on the other line, Heeseung decides to try and hang up and chicken out but his friend is adamant that he is seeing this through. He doesn’t know how long he can sit and listen to him whining anymore.

“Sorry! No, uh, shit,” Jongseong racks his brain for words that have escaped him, biting his lip as he concentrates on how to perfectly imitate the virgin, “My name is Lee Heeseung. I am a pathetic 22-year-old and need to lose my virginity. I was wondering if you could do me the honours of popping my cherry.”

“I do not talk like that!” Heeseung protests, swatting Jongseongs arm who simply shrugs, unbothered by the offence he is causing the elder. His sole mission is to get Heeseung laid and he is so close to making that happen.

They hear you hum on the other line and immediately stop bickering, staring at the phone as if they can see you through it. “Can I speak to the real Heeseung please?” 

The boy feels sick, head dizzy at the sound of his name coming from your lips but also because Jongseong is thrusting the phone into his face, moving behind him to give him the floor. He hadn’t anticipated speaking to you, just casually observing and listening in to Jongseong sell him off to you. 

“Put on your big boy pants and do this!” Jongseong scolds, eyes darting between Heeseung’s face and the receiver.

Carefully, Heeseung brings it to his ear and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head before replying. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi, Heeseung. How are you doing?” you ask softly. This isn’t your first rodeo with a virgin so you know better than to go in all tits blazing and calling him a big boy. 

Nodding as though you can see him, Heeseung purses his lips, trying to muster up some semblance of confidence. “I’m good…how are you?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly despite his efforts to sound assured. The shaky breath he lets out betrays his nerves, and he inwardly cringes, expecting the worst.

On the other end, you can't help but giggle softly. It’s not a titter of mocking, but rather one of endearment. Virgins are the cutest to speak to in your eyes because most of them have no idea how to navigate a conversation like this. There's something charming about their genuine nervousness and innocent curiosity.

Heeseung’s embarrassment deepens as he hears your giggle, imagining all the ways he might be coming off as awkward and inexperienced. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry if I sound nervous,” he stammers, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Your voice remains warm and reassuring, easing some of his anxiety. “That’s okay, Heeseung. Everyone has to start somewhere. I promise, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Your voice is so smooth and lovely that Heeseung instantly relaxes. He is glad that if Jongseong picked any of the workers on the posters beside him, he is glad it was you.

Straightening his posture, Heeseung steadies himself. “My friend is right, I am a virgin and I want to get rid of it. Can you help with that?”

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being a virgin,” you gently remind Heeseung, concern lacing your voice. “Are you sure this is how you want to do it?” You should be arranging a time and place rather than potentially jeopardising your weekly food shop, but if you were in his shoes, you’d want to offer him an escape route, just in case.

But Heeseung seems resolute now, determined to rid himself of the insecurity that has plagued him for so long. “I am. I don’t want to graduate with this hanging over my head.”

Your heart melts a little at his sincerity, and you can’t help but pout. “Okay. Well, one of my regulars...well, let’s just say I’m not seeing him anymore, so I have a free slot tomorrow at 2pm. I usually go to the Point A Hotel near the intersection. Can you make it?”

Heeseung looks to Jongseong with panicked eyes, silently pleading for reassurance. The younger man nods enthusiastically, giving him two thumbs up, mouthing a gentle “Go for it” for extra ease. 

“Yeah, 2pm is fine.” His heart beats rapidly as he accepts your offer, his mouth going dry and his palms sweaty. 

“Amazing. Bring £200-, no, £300 and condoms in your size,” you instruct, changing your regular rate last minute. If he is as inexperienced as he seems, he won't know you’re ripping him off a little. It’s not like you want to but it’s what you have to do. The regular that was in that slot usually paid £500 with tips. However, you will take the comfort of not having him around anymore over bills.

Jongseong’s jaw hits the floor as he hears the price, his gaze glued to the phone but before he can barter for a better deal, the phone goes dead, the five 20ps he slotted in finally running out and leaving them both in silence.

Heeseung’s arm drops to his side, still gripping the receiver as he stares blankly into space. “£300 is all my savings,” he whispers to himself, the weight of the realisation settling heavily on his shoulders. Yet, even as the words leave his mouth, he’s working out how to move his bills around and where the nearest pharmacy is for condoms. 

Stepping out of the booth, Jongseong holds the door open and ushers Heeseung to follow. Heeseung, still lost in thought, obediently steps out, the crisp evening air hitting his face, a welcoming cool to the flush of his skin due to talking to a sex worker for the first time and also the heat of the booth.

Jongseong wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulder, pulling him in with a gleeful tug. “Now, let's go get you some rubbers. I’m thinking extra small?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jongseong.”

_____

Standing in front of the shabby hotel, Heeseung braces himself for what will come. He should be ecstatic that he is finally on his way to losing his v card, but the dark clouds in the sky, the three buses, and the 30-minute walk to get to the Point A hotel have given him a dreaded sense of doubt.

The once vibrant red bricks of the building are now faded and chipped, with grime clinging to the crevices. The flickering neon sign above the entrance buzzes intermittently, casting a sickly green hue that does little to dispel the gloom. The place reeks of neglect, and a faint smell of dampness hangs in the air, mingling with the odour of stale cigarettes.

Heeseung’s stomach churns as he takes in the dilapidated surroundings. His heart pounds in his chest, and his palms are slick with sweat. Everything about this goes against what he stands for, but he thinks this might be the closest he will get in his young adult life. The last thing he wants is to be a 40-year-old virgin still complaining to Jongseong that numbing his hand and rubbing one out isn’t doing it for him the way it should.

He looks up at the darkened windows, some of them boarded up, others covered in grime. A lone figure stumbles out of the entrance, clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels, and disappears into the grey afternoon, reinforcing Heeseung's trepidation. Of course, the sex worker wasn’t going to ask him to meet in a swanky five-star hotel, but anything had to be better than this.

Taking a deep breath, he tries to steady his nerves. The anticipation that should be filling him with excitement instead gnaws at him with apprehension. His mind races with conflicting thoughts – the desire to finally cross this threshold clashing with the nagging sense that he's settling for something far less than he deserves. The thought of his future self, bitter and frustrated, pushes him forward despite the unease curling in his gut.

He can't let fear dictate his choices any longer; at the end of the day, virginity is a social construct, and women are the greatest gift from God, so there is nothing to be so scared about. Taking another deep breath, he steels himself and steps forward, ready to face whatever lies ahead within the confines of the Point A hotel.

Quickly, he grabs the shutting door and steps inside, his guard raising instantly as he sees the darkness of the foyer. This is the type of place where people mug you for fun rather than necessity. Stained mattresses are leaning against the graffitied walls, the overhead lights are dull, providing little support to Heeseung’s pupils, and the carpet beneath him is sticky, every fibre clinging to the sole of his Air Max trainers.

He takes tentative steps to the front desk, which has been barricaded by crossed steel bars and adorned with a sign reading ‘Police on Speed Dial’. This does little to make him feel any safer. Heeseung’s eyes squint as he gets closer to the desk lamp and sees a middle-aged woman reading the latest issue of the Digger, a local newspaper filled with all the latest and greatest gossip of the town. The last time he read that particular paper was in the doctor's office, and the headline was ‘HE’S ESCAPED’ with a picture of the man who murdered the shopkeeper and police officer up in Brixton.

Shivering, not due to the air conditioning above him, Heeseung knocks on the desk softly and clears his throat, gaining the attention of the relaxed redhead.

“Yeah?” she asks nonchalantly, her eyes flickering up to the scared boy as if he was inconveniencing her by making her do her job. “Single, double, or meeting someone?”

The question throws Heeseung for a loop. He doesn’t know what room you're in or even if you would have given your real name. Surely, you would have created a fake persona when you came here. What if Y/N was the fake name? His pulse quickens as he stammers, trying to find the right words.

"Um, I'm meeting someone," he finally manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. The woman sighs, clearly unimpressed, and picks up an old, dog-eared ledger from under the desk.

"Name?" she asks, flipping through the pages with a disinterested expression.

Hesitating, Heeseung picks at the skin on his fingers and clears his throat again, a blush rising to his cheeks as he remembers that this is your regular spot, meaning that as soon as he utters your name - if that is the one you gave - then she will know exactly what he is here for. “Y/N. I’m looking for Y/N.”

The receptionist's eyes suddenly trail up and down his body, making him feel as though he is already naked. He is right in his suspicions; she is definitely judging him. Once she finishes examining him, she scowls in disgust and leans back into her chair, placing her feet on the desk as she grabs her paper once more. “Room 1015. And tell her she needs to calm it down with the lube she uses; it’s a bitch to get out of the sheets.”

Heeseung's face burns with embarrassment as he mumbles a quick “thank you” and turns away from the desk. He heads towards the lift, the receptionist’s gaze still sitting in the forefront of his mind, making him even more self-conscious than before. The lift pings open to reveal a tattered metal box, illuminated by a dirty yellow light that only makes the streaks of brown and rust stand out more. Maybe Heeseung should get a tetanus shot after all of this.

He presses the first-floor button with his elbow, careful not to touch anything with his bare skin just in case, and ascends to your room. The buzz from the light and the creak of the old wires holding the elevator make the journey last forever, considering it’s only one floor. But maybe that is also just his nerves. Heeseung's mind races as he stands there, the walls of the lift feeling like they're closing in on him. The air is stale, filled with a faint metallic tang that makes him uneasy.

As the lift jerks to a halt and the doors open, Heeseung steps out into a dimly lit corridor. The wallpaper is peeling, revealing patches of mould beneath. The faint buzz of a flickering light down the hall adds to the eerie atmosphere. Heeseung takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and walks towards room 1015. Each step feels heavier than the last, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps but not the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Pausing before your door, he abruptly pats down his jacket to ensure that he has brought the money and the condoms as per your request. His fingers brush against the crisp bills and the small, foil packets, reassuring him that he hasn’t forgotten anything crucial. The sense of preparedness does little to quell his anxiety, but it’s a small comfort amid his turmoil.

Heeseung breathes out slowly, cracking his neck as though he is bracing himself to fight with Roy Jones Jr. and not a 22-year-old girl who exchanges sex for money; although, he knows which one is scarier at this moment. His knuckles bang on the door lightly and suddenly his mind is reeling a mile a minute, all the questions and doubts he has been tackling within his mind for the past few hours now rushing to him at once. What if you aren’t who you say you are? You could be an old geezer looking to have his way with Heeseung and then toss him out the window with not so much as a thank you. What if this whole thing goes horribly wrong and cums as soon as you touch his cock? He spent last night jerking off and training himself to last just a little longer than usual in an aid to impress you.

Suddenly, there is a lump in his throat and trepidation overcasting the glee of losing his virginity. Something feels wrong, out of place, and his mum always told him to run at the first feeling of danger.

Yet, he doesn’t have another second to turn back and flee the scene because the door is swinging open and revealing-

You. Gorgeous, beautiful - definitely not a creepy old man - you. Heeseung’s jaw almost hits the floor like a cartoon character and his eyes turn to hearts as he takes you in. The baby pink robe you’re wearing with white lace detailing, your hair cascading down one of your shoulders in a soft, bouncy curl, and your lips that are tinted red like glossy maraschino cherries. You look even better than the poster in the phone booth if that was even possible.

His body flushes with heat as he sees your erect nipples poking through the silk, and he feels like he could faint. The sight of you is overwhelming, making his head spin and his heart race even faster. The trepidation that had gripped him moments before is momentarily forgotten, replaced by a rush of desire and nervous anticipation.

You smile warmly at him, a smile that reaches your eyes and seems to melt away some of his fear. "Hi, Heeseung," you say softly, your voice as smooth and inviting as honey. "Come on in."

Heeseung nods, stepping over the threshold and into the room. His movements are awkward and stiff, a stark contrast to your graceful fluidity. The door clicks shut behind him, and the reality of the situation hits him once more. But this time, the sense of wrongness is overshadowed by the sheer presence of you.

You move behind him and drink in the sight of him. If every client looked this good, you might just never complain again - but unfortunately, men like Heeseung come few and far between, like little sprinkles of water amongst oil. He is wearing slightly baggy deep-blue jeans, a white-faded-into-grey Rolling Stones t-shirt, and a red crinkled plaid shirt which is covered by a brown faux-leather jacket. Even his hair is washed and parted down the middle prettily, reaching his rosy cheeks and curving in slightly.

There isn’t a man that has ever looked this fine in your presence, so you’re starting to wonder why on earth he is still a virgin. Then again, he was super nervous on the phone, even making his friend speak for him to begin with - and with the lack of eye contact he is giving you, he clearly doesn’t do well in the presence of a female.

“I didn’t think you would come,” you observe, giggling as he tenses beside you.

Heeseung nods, agreeing with you almost immediately because for a good 2 hours while deciding on whether to wear his favourite boxers or a pair he got from his gran for Christmas, he almost decided to curl himself back into bed and forget you even existed.

The weight of his decision, the culmination of his fears and desires, all come crashing down at once as the silence settles. But standing there, with you smiling at him, he feels a small spark of hope, a glimmer of excitement that maybe, just maybe, this won’t be as terrifying as he’s imagined.

“You look unreal,” he whispers his inner thoughts out loud, causing him to slap his hand over his mouth, eyes shaking at the thought of saying anything at all to you.

His nervousness makes your heart cry, the cuteness trembling from his body is overwhelming, and you find yourself relaxing slightly. Heeseung is a gentle giant, and although he towers over you, he poses no threat at all which you gladly welcome considering what you normally have to deal with in this industry. It’s nice to not have to wonder what on earth a man is planning to do with you because you can’t read him.

Slinking your way towards him, you tuck a section of his soft hair behind his ear, his eyes closing and Adam's apple bobbing at your touch. “I’m as real as they come, baby. Why don’t you relax and give me your coat, hmm?”

As you reach for the brown jacket and try to push it off his shoulders, he flinches and backs away, hugging himself tightly. The sudden movement surprises you, and you quickly pull back, giving him space. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in headlights, and you can see the internal struggle playing out in his mind. His face is flushed, and there's a mixture of fear and embarrassment etched into his features.

He quickly shakes his head, realising he startled you into a confused pout. “S-sorry! It’s just the money and condoms are in here and I…I think I might still be a little on edge considering this place is…well, it’s creepy as shit.”

Laughing loudly, you do a mix of nodding and shaking your head, puzzled by his reaction but understanding his apprehension of letting just anyone touch his belongings; God knows you’ve been held at knifepoint once or twice around this area. Your laughter, genuine and bright, seems to relax him a bit. 

“That’s okay, Heeseung,” you say, throwing your hands up in a non-threatening gesture in an attempt to ease his tension, which works surprisingly well. You can see his grip on his arms loosen just a bit. “How about you hang it up behind the door?”

Heeseung looks over his shoulder and sees the empty hook, calling out for his slightly battered jacket. Whipping it off, he clenches it in his hands as though he is wringing it of water - probably his sweat - and perks up again, the nerves still evident in his voice. “Do I give you the money now or?”

You smile at his earnestness, understanding his need to follow the process correctly. His vulnerability is endearing, and you feel a protective instinct kicking in. “Normally, I would take the money upfront but since I trust you not to run away, we can sort it out before you go.” It’s a generous offer in Heeseung’s mind, but in yours, you just don’t know whether he is going to make it past touching one of your tits, so it’s better to actually charge him for what you do rather than jumping the gun.

Heeseung’s eyes widen slightly at your trust, and you can see the relief washing over him. He nods vigorously, his movements still somewhat jerky but more controlled now. “Thank you,” he mumbles, his voice soft but sincere. “I appreciate it.”

As he hangs his jacket on the hook, you can see his hands trembling slightly. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he tries to steady himself. When he turns back to you, there’s a flicker of determination in his eyes, mingled with the lingering nervousness.

Turning around, you are suddenly standing there, your body almost pressed against his. “Come on, sit down for a minute,” you say seductively, code-switching into your sex worker persona with ease. It doesn’t take much, just lowering your voice slightly and hooding your eyes over seems to work for most men, and by Heeseung’s expression and nervous shuffle of his feet, it clearly works for him too.

You reach for his hand, and he instantly flinches, but soon gives way for you to wrap your hands around three of his fingers, slowly guiding him to sit on the edge of the bed. His breath hitches as your touch sends shivers down his spine, the warmth of your skin against his sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Heeseung’s heart pounds in his chest as he sits down, the bed sinking slightly under his weight. He can feel the heat of your body radiating against his, your closeness both comforting and intimidating. His mind races with a whirlwind of emotions—fear, desire, anticipation—all swirling together in a dizzying haze.

You sit beside him, your thigh pressing against his, and he can feel the warmth of your skin seeping through the fabric of his trousers. The sensation sends a shiver down his spine, and he can feel his cheeks flushing with heat. He swallows hard, trying to calm the rapid fluttering of his heart. He shifts uncomfortably, his nerves getting the better of him. But your presence is calming, your touch gentle and reassuring.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you assure him, bringing your hand to play with the hairs on the nape of his neck. 

The action causes his body to instantly fold inside itself, melting as you ease him gently into a state of comfort. He hasn’t been touched by a girl in the way you are right now, the closest he’s gotten is a handhold in primary 5 because his friends forced a girl to date him during lunch, so the way your long nails tickle his heated skin only gives his cock a reason to twitch. 

Shaking his head, tensing slightly when he looks into your kind eyes. “No, no, I want to. I’m just not used to talking to girls, or looking at them, or being in the same room as them…” He begins to waffle, talking about everything he has never done with a girl and you find his honesty endearing.

“You haven’t kissed a girl either, have you?” you ask with a hint of amusement. 

“Twice? I think. But they weren’t with tongues,” the shy boy cowards with his confession, scared of being scrutinised by the one person who is supposed to be helping him with all of this. He might just die if you start to point and laugh at him. But to his surprise, you nod understandingly. 

In your world of sex and adultery, it isn’t usually a question. Everyone, especially at twenty-two has probably at least been kissed, but you don’t judge him for not being experienced in even that field. There is a vulnerability and sadness in Heeseung’s eyes that tell you everything you need to know about him; he’s quiet, timid, lacks confidence, and obviously doesn’t venture outside his friend group

You smile reassuringly, your hand still clasping his as you nod in consideration. “It’s okay, Heeseung,” you say softly, your voice filled with warmth and understanding. “We’ll take things slow, at your pace. And I promise, there’s no judgment here…I do have to make sure you’re of age though, y’know, caution and all that.”

It’s not that you think he is lying, you just need to be careful with clients like this, particularly virgins because sometimes it can be a boy chancing his arm at a shot to lose his virginity, and you are not catching a case for a few hundred quid. 

Nodding, Heeseung understands what you mean and points to his jacket. “My provisional license is in my chest pocket. The one on the right,” he instructs. He would go get it himself but his legs are boneless with your proximity, so to save him embarrassment, he’ll let you venture for it.

You release his hand with a tender squeeze before walking to the door and reaching for his jacket, your fingers deftly searching through the pocket until you find his provisional license. With a quick glance to confirm his age, you let out a breath of relief. Everything checks out.

He is also super handsome despite the stoic face and reputation that licenses have for making people look ugly, which you think is unfair but don’t comment. Your driver's license looks like you’ve been swallowed by Jabba the Hutt and regurgitated back up, so the envy you are feeling is real right now.

Suppressing the green monster at Heeseung’s flawless appearance, you slip his license back into his pocket and make your way back to him, your movements slow and deliberate. As you draw nearer, you can see the anticipation in his eyes, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of nerves and lust.

Teasingly, you undo the tie of your thin robe, letting it open slightly and revealing a tantalising glimpse of what Heeseung is paying for. The fabric falls away, exposing the curve of your left breast, perfectly formed and enticing.

Heeseung’s eyes widen at the sight, his breath catching in his throat as he takes in the sight before him. His cheeks flush crimson, and you can see the desire burning in his eyes as he drinks in every inch of your exposed skin. 

This is his first time seeing a boob in the flesh and by God does porn not do it justice. Yours are just what he wants, the perfect size, look, and probably feel; he really needs to thank Jongseong for choosing you for this because he thinks he has hit the jackpot. 

Licking his lips, his eyes trace down to your panties and it instantly makes him squirm in place. They match your robe, a soft baby pink but the main body of them is seethrough, decorated by small pink hearts and a delicate bow on the side. The band of them are a pale rose, popping the colour of your skin beneath them. 

Seeing his reaction boosts your ego and you turn around, letting the silk drop at your feet as you glance back at him playfully, wiggling your bum to show how the panties are actually a thong that sits perfectly between your plump cheeks.

Heeseung doesn’t know where to look, your naked back, your peachy ass, or your beautiful featured face. So he decides what any virgin in his situation would do and looks away, staring at the popcorn ceiling that has leak stains on it.

Giggling, you walk over to him and straddle his lap, flicking your hair to the back to leave your breasts bare and in perfect sight for him to ogle at. Yet, he still doesn’t move. With a playful huff, you cup his face, your false nails scratching behind his ear as you pull him back to look at you.

“You’re going to have to look at me, baby,” you tease, angling his head and your body so his eyes have nowhere to look but your tits. 

They’re even better up close and if Heeseung were any other man, he would be taking your perky nipple into his mouth and starting this session with ease. But he is not any other man, he is a virgin who drools at the sight of any Playboy or Zoo magazines in the windows of shops and then immediately feels guilty because he hates objectifying women in any way shape or form.

He even feels guilty for his cock twitching in his pants every time you call him baby, knowing you’re feeling how it’s practically jumping to be released from its confines and in your grasp.

Sensing his apprehension to make a move, you decide to take the lead slowly by kissing his forehead, your tits hitting his chest as you push further onto him with the movement. “We’ll start by kissing and see where it goes, yeah?”

Your voice is forgiving and reassuring, the pads of your thumbs stroking his cheeks with fondness that only makes him mewl out slightly. You stifle the laugh because you know how humiliated he will feel if you do, not understanding that the cause of your amusement isn’t due to his whining but rather how much you’re enjoying how lost in your touch he is.

Gently, you take his hands and place them on your waist, giving him as much guidance as you can without it becoming demanding. He tenses as he feels your velvety skin, your perfume enveloping him in a mask of florals and vanilla.

"Relax, Heeseung," you say calmly, your voice soothing and encouraging. "We will go as far as you want, and we can stop at any time. Just say the word, okay?

Heeseung nods, meeting your gaze with a mix of anxiety and trust. "Okay," he replies, just above a whisper.

Moving his hands up your back, Heeseung slowly eases into feeling you, gaining confidence with each tender stroke. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It's a welcome change from the roughness you're used to with your last client in this slot, and you find yourself sinking into the sensation, enjoying the intimacy of a man's touch for the first time in a long time.

It makes you wonder if this is what having a boyfriend would be like.

Heeseung’s eyes haven’t left your breasts, committing every bump of your areola and stretch mark that creates a beautiful symphony of elegant but sexy, each nipple unique in its appearance and direction. There’s nothing better than your boobs at this moment in time; he would pay you the £300 right now if just for one squeeze.

Then it hits him - he could hold them if he wanted to, that’s what he is here to do after all.

Ghosting his fingers up your back, he creates a path for them to cascade from your shoulders to the top of your breast. You feel a surge of anticipation as he gets closer, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body, your cunt starting to drip at the gentle caress.

He stops for a while, contemplating his next move. His eyes look up to yours pleadingly, the virginity shining through his iris’. “Can I?” he asks, seeking permission before delving in.

The act of consent fills you with warmth, and without hesitation, you nod, a reassuring smile playing on your lips. “Anything you want to do, baby,” you assure him, your voice filled with encouragement. 

Heeding your words, Heeseung finally makes his move, his digits whispering to your skin, giving them a tentative rub as he watches the skin melt around him. His thumb strokes over your left nipple, playing with it as if it were a fragile piece of art that he was too scared to break.

For some reason, the act is making you emotional, the way he is so delicately touching you. Never in your career have you seen something so pure and heartwarming. Every other virgin that has called you is just trying to stick it in your hole, never caring about your feelings or comfort.

Lifting his face up, you stare into his eyes with an underlying sparkle of adoration. If you could keep him as a client forever, you would, but you fear that this will be the last and only time with him, so you need to make it count.

You lean in, lips hovering over his petal-like ones and wait there for a moment, a silent ask for consent. It’s only fair considering his decency towards you.

With a nod and a stuttering motion, he presses his lips to yours oh-so-sheepishly. The touch is feather-light, almost tentative, and you can feel his nervousness in the way his lips tremble against yours. Yet there's a sweetness to it, a genuine curiosity and yearning that tugs at your heartstrings.

You respond gently, your lips moving softly against his, guiding him with tender patience. The kiss is slow, unhurried, and as you deepen it slightly, you feel him relax, his hands finding their way to your waist, gripping you a little tighter. His lips part instinctively, and you take the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, eliciting a soft gasp from him.

Heeseung’s reaction is immediate, his body responding to the new sensation with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. You can feel the tension melting away from him, replaced by growing confidence as he starts to explore the kiss with a bit more boldness. His hands roam cautiously, tracing the curve of your hips and the small of your back, his touch still delicate but increasingly assured.

Breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. The intimacy of the moment hangs in the air, thick and heady, and you can see the mix of emotions playing out on his face - desire, excitement, and a lingering trace of apprehension.

“You’re doing so well, Heeseung,” you murmur softly, your fingers gently stroking the nape of his neck. “Just let yourself feel, and don’t worry about anything else.”

Heeseung’s eyes glisten with a mixture of gratitude and relief, and he nods, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he whispers, his voice steadier now. “Thank you.”

“You’re thanking me for kissing you?” you giggle, pecking his lips quickly. “How about I give you something to thank me for, to make sure you’re ready, hmm?”

Heeseung’s eyes widen, knowing exactly the act you’re alluding to, and he nods like an excited boy, a grin plastering on his face that exhibits disbelief and glee.

You guide him to lie back on the bed, the soft creak of the mattress punctuating the moment. Heeseung’s body is tense with anticipation, his hands clutching at the sheets as he watches you with a mixture of awe and nervous excitement. You feel a wave of tenderness for him, this young man who is putting his trust in you, hoping you can make this experience as good as he's imagined.

“Just relax,” you purr, your hands trailing down his chest, fingers brushing over his taut muscles that are hiding under his t-shirt. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Slowly, you work your way down his body, your lips planting soft kisses along his chest and lift up the hem of his shirt to pepper some on his stomach. Each touch elicits a small gasp from him, his body reacting to the new sensations with a mix of surprise and pleasure. You can feel his muscles relaxing under your touch, his trust in you growing with each gentle caress. You feel a strange mix of responsibility and pride, wanting to show him just how good it can feel to be touched and cared for.

Reaching the waistband of his jeans, you look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Is this okay?” you ask, giving him one last chance to change his mind.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

With his consent, you unbutton his trousers and slowly slide them down, his boxers following suit. Heeseung’s erection springs free, his breath hitching as the cool air hits his heated skin. You take a moment to admire him, your fingers tracing delicate patterns along his length, feeling the tension and anticipation coiled within him. There's a sense of reverence in this moment, understanding the weight of trust he has placed in you.

“Just relax,” you repeat, your voice soothing as you wrap your hand around his shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. He’s at least 6 inches and girthy, making your pussy clench at the thought of him being inside of you. “It’s a shame you’re not letting girls hit it, your cock is fucking spectacular.”

Heeseung’s face flushes with pride and embarrassment as you lower your head, your breath ghosting over his tip. “Oh, this is really happening…okay….fuck…” he breathes out, face turning red and eyes closing as he braces himself for the first contact. No one’s mouth has come this close to his cock so the feeling is overwhelming to his virgin mind.

You watch as his eyes flutter shut, his lips parting in a silent gasp and slowly take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his head, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that has gathered there. His taste is new, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant - almost clean and without the taste of battery acid some of the men you work with have -  and you relish the sounds he makes in response.

Heeseung’s reaction is immediate, his hips bucking slightly as a strangled moan escapes his lips. You place your hands on his hips, holding him steady as you begin to move, your mouth sliding up and down his length in a slow, rhythmic motion. The intimacy of this act, the connection you feel with him, makes your own body respond, a warmth pooling between your thighs.

His fingers dig into the sheets, his knuckles white as he tries to keep himself grounded, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. You can feel the tension building within him, the way his body trembles with each pass of your lips and tongue. You can sense his struggle to remain composed, his vulnerability on full display, and it makes you want to give him everything he needs.

Heeseung is doing everything in his power not to bust a nut right now, holding back as best as he can. He is also trying not to scream out a tiny ‘Yipee’ at the feeling of your tongue swirling the head of his cock. He’s trying to think of anything that isn’t sexy; his gran, Tony Blair, the old milkman that he swore spat in the milk before he delivered it. Yet, nothing is working because you are that fucking good, your mouth is driving him crazy that he genuinely thinks he could go insane.

You increase your pace slightly, your hand joining in to stroke the base of his shaft in time with your movements, and you can tell he’s close. His moans grow louder, his hips straining against your grip as he teeters on the edge of release. The power you hold over him in this moment is intoxicating, yet you wield it with care, wanting his first experience to be unforgettable.

And unforgettable it will be because just as Heeseung is seeing stars, the door swings open, revealing an angry and brute man. His face is red, sweating from the heat outside, his bald spot gleaming in the overhead light from outside, and his beer belly hanging over his two-sizes-too-small jeans, barely covered by the black worn-out t-shirt.

Charging in, he grips your hair, pulling out chunks of it and possibly some of your scalp as he rips your mouth off of Heeseung’s painfully hard cock. You scream in agony, tears pricking your eyes as he drags you around the room like a ragdoll.

Heeseung's euphoria crashes into a pit of dread, his heart pounding in fear as he scrambles to understand what’s happening. The shock freezes him momentarily, but seeing you in pain snaps him into action. He leaps from the bed, his mind racing with panic and the urgent need to help you. 

But he doesn’t know what to do, his hands trembling and stomach tied in knots as he watches the man lift you up by your hair swinging you around as if you are nothing but a paintbrush he is trying to beat dry.

“You little slut!” the man yells, grabbing your throat with his free hand and pushing you against one of the walls. “This is my session, bitch. I pay you to fuck me, not suck off this toothpick!” The grip on your throat tightens with every syllable spat in your face.

You kick your legs in a pathetic attempt to get the man off you, your air cutting off as your face burns red with struggle. You take a good look at the man and realise it’s your client who usually has your 2pm slot, the same man who tried to force himself on you in your last session and ignored your boundaries. It happens sometimes in this job but they don’t typically come back and try to kill you, at least not in your experience.

Girls at your old job warned you about this, sharing detailed encounters with disgruntled punters, but never did you think that you would be confronting one so early on. He used to be a nice guy, tipping well and never being handsy when it was uncalled for, so when he tried to slip it in a hole only reserved for birthdays, you instantly told him to get out and never come back.

Yet, here he is, choking you out in front of a man you barely know, probably terrifying him for the rest of time. He came here to lose his virginity, not gain trauma.

Heeseung's heart pounds with fear and anger. The man’s violent outburst had shattered any lingering nervousness, replacing it with a fierce determination to protect you. His initial shock melts away, leaving only a raw, primal need to help you. He can't let this happen, not after what you've done for him, not to someone who’s shown him such kindness.

His eyes lock onto the lamp on the bedside table, contemplating his next move. He isn’t equipped for this but he has to make sure you’re safe at any cost. You don’t deserve this, no woman does, you provide a service that most men take advantage of - but not him, he won’t let this brute of a man win. 

Apparently, you have the same mentality, your eyes searching the room for any object nearby. Your vision starts to black out, flashes of unconsciousness flickering over your eyes as you see a vase placed close to your right. It’s a stretch, but you reach out to grab it, your arm going limp and legs losing the fight but that determination in your body courses through and creates enough adrenaline to pinch the top of the vase.

With a swift motion, you lazily but forcefully thump him over the head with it. The blow lands with a thickening thud and the vase shatters into pieces, some of it cutting your arms as they ricochet down onto the ground. The grip on your throat eases ever so slightly as the attacker’s eyes roll to the back of his head for a moment, giving you the much-needed chance to breathe.

Heeseung, caught up in planning his own attack, grabs the lamp, the weight feeling solid and reassuring in his hands. He doesn’t think twice as he swings it with all his might, aiming for the man’s head.

“Let her go!” Heeseung screams, his voice cracking but filled with rage. He catches the man again with the base of the metal lamp, this time on his temple, forcing him to stumble back.

You gasp for air, collapsing to the floor as the man’s grip finally releases. Focusing your eyes on his face, you see the life drain from his body, the snarl that once painted his features now relaxing, face paling instantly as you see him wobble before crashing to the ground beside you.

Clinging to yourself out of adrenaline and fear, you cough, still gasping for needed air and that’s when you see it, the blood rushing from the guy’s head, leaking onto the carpet and staining it crimson with every passing second. Heeseung notices the damage just as quickly as you do, eyes widening and his head shaking, adamant that the man can’t be what he thinks he is.

“Oh my god,” Heeseung whispers, his voice trembling with shock. He drops the lamp, the clatter against the floor barely registering in his mind. “Is he... did I...?” He stutters, unable to complete his sentence, the reality of the situation crashing down on him.

You swallow the lump in your throat, adrenaline puppeteering your body to scramble away from the body and stand up, your eyes trained on the man as your body searches for a perch to rest on. The telephone and trinkets clatter to the ground as you lean against the Chester drawers, your heart pounding so loud you swear you can hear sirens.

“We…we need to call an ambulance,” Heeseung mutters, looking between the man and his own murderous hands. He can’t believe he caused this, a man is lying on the floor, gushing blood from his head all because of him.

As soon as the sentence leaves Heeseung’s mouth, your eyes shoot to him in bewilderment, mouth drying up at the thought. “We need to get out of here, Heeseung, we can’t call an ambulance.”

“We can’t just leave him here!” he protests, mirroring your confused expression.

“If an ambulance comes, then the police will, and we are fucked,” you exclaim in a rushed whisper, aware of your surroundings in the thin-walled hotel, not to mention the fact that the door is still wide open for anyone to stumble upon the brutality that has just occurred.

“It was self-defence!” he retorts, pointing to your neck as if punctuating the sentence with evidence.

You tremble, holding your throat and shaking your head, tears brimming in your eyes despite the urge in you to stay strong; you have never once been a crier, and you refuse to start now, not when you need to keep your head in the game and stay focused. “I’m a sex worker, Heeseung! They’ll lock me up in a minute and blame me for everything.”

Your brain betrays you, flashing with what could happen to you if the police even caught a whiff of you being here. It would automatically be your fault, no matter your plea of innocence. The authorities hate you despite most of them using call girls to relieve themselves in ways they won’t let their wives. You can see it now: the media frenzy, the courtroom, the cold, judgmental eyes of the jurors.

Heeseung’s eyes widen with understanding and fear, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “What do we do?” he whispers, desperation lacing his voice. “I can’t go to jail, Y/N, they will eat me alive.” 

Looking at him, you see how scared he is and you suddenly feel remorse over every other emotion that swirls in your body. He might have battered him over the head but it was you who was behind the reason; the boy felt an obligation to help you because he was here and afraid for your wellbeing. There is no way you can leave him to face this alone. It gnaws at you because you knew you should have either moved time or location, your gut telling you to do so only yesterday, but you ignored it, telling yourself that you were overreacting.

“We need to get out of here. Now,” you say with urgency, reaching over the dead weight of a man and grabbing your robe, tying it quickly around your practically naked body. “Grab your stuff, we’ll go down the back stairs, my car is in the worker's lot.”

“Where would we go? They know that we’re here,” Heeseung protests, running his hands through his hair in frustration, grabbing handfuls and tugging harshly as if trying to wake himself up from this nightmare.

Exasperated, you roll your eyes and snatch your bag from the end of the bed. You manoeuvre yourself around the room with desperate urgency, the breaths you are heaving out fueling you to think straight and keep to a plan. It’s pure fear that is driving your body right now, but you don’t fight it. Instead, you let it take you to safety and away from the carnage that you suddenly don't dare to look at.

Seeing you move with immediateness to the door, Heeseung subconsciously follows you like a lost puppy. Unfortunately for him, his fight-or-flight response has a third option: go into a state of haze. He doesn’t know what to do, and the bright idea that caused the mess before him only makes him doubt his mind about the next move, so he’ll follow you for now.

As you glance back at him, you see one slight issue, causing you to halt in your tracks, sparking confusion on his face, those bambi eyes you noticed now in full swing, making your heart flutter in the most awkward of times. Shaking it off, you turn your body and look down. “Uh, Heeseung?”

“What is it? What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks nervously, his voice trembling with uncertainty.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you speak. “You might need your pants,” you explain, opening your eyes and glancing pointedly at his semi-hard cock.

Heeseung’s face flushes a bright red, emulating the shade of a ripe tomato before he nods. His eyes dart around the room, searching for his clothes, only to spot his trousers and pants trapped under the dead man’s body. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of panic through him, his breath hitching in his throat. “Oh no... they’re under him,” he mumbles, his voice tinged with dread.

You take another deep breath, steeling yourself. “You have to move him, just enough to get your clothes. Can you do that?”

“Oh, yeah, just watch me heave up a 300-pound man off my Levis. Look at me, Y/N, I’m hardly a fucking gym rat.” The deflation and anguish in his voice are palpable as he walks around to the side where his jeans lie trapped.

You know he doesn’t mean to be rude to you, that it’s the fear talking, but you do miss when he was shy and couldn’t even form a coherent sentence without stuttering. At least then he wasn’t semi-shouting at you.

“Okay, okay,” you say softly, trying to calm him down. “We’ll do it together. I’ll help you.” You crouch down beside him, the closeness of the dead man making your stomach churn, but you push through it. You have to.

Heeseung’s hands are shaking as he reaches out, his fingers trembling as they touch the dead man’s shoulder. You can see the revulsion in his eyes, the sheer disbelief that he’s in this situation. With a deep breath, he steels himself, looking at you for reassurance.

“We can do this,” you say firmly, giving him a small nod. “On three, okay? One, two, three.”

Together, you heave, your muscles straining as you push the heavy, lifeless body just enough to free Heeseung’s clothes. The man’s weight is immense, and it takes every ounce of strength you both have. The dead weight shifts slightly, and Heeseung quickly grabs his trousers and pants, pulling them free with a grunt.

“Got them,” he says, his voice a mix of relief and horror as he scrambles to his feet, stepping away from the body as quickly as he can.

You stand up as well, wiping your hands on your robe, trying to rid yourself of the feeling of death that clings to your skin. “Hurry, put them on. We need to get out of here.”

Heeseung nods, his movements hurried and shaky as he pulls on his trousers and pants. The adrenaline pumping through his veins makes him fumble with the buttons, his hands still trembling. You watch him, your heart pounding in your chest, willing him to move faster.

Once he's dressed, you hastily grab his hand, pulling him out of the room and leading him to the backstairs, aiming for your trusty old Austin Metro. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest, the adrenaline of fear coursing through your veins. How could this happen to you? You were just trying to live your life and make some money, not become an accomplice to murder.

Heeseung's thoughts mirror yours, his mind reeling at the sudden turn of events. All he wanted was to lose his virginity, not become entangled in a murder. As his feet scurry behind yours on the stone steps of the hotel, he realises there's no way out of this. There's no one to save him; this experience has irrevocably altered his life, but not in the way he ever imagined.

He walked into that room as a virgin, but now he's leaving as a murderer.

taglist (closed): @yzzyhee @intromortal @zerobaseone-zhanghao @hooniehon @deobitifull @alvojake @sageryuri @slut4hee @binniesbabe @vveebee @minniejenseo @jebetwo @seunghancore @laurradoesloveu @yongbokified @jaehoonii @jaeyunluvr @melonvrs @criminalyun @enhastolemyheart @fakeuwus @flwrhoes @rayofsunshineeee @moonlighthoon @jaehyuniewifeu @en-ternals @haechonly @got-sunghooned @brownsugarbaybee @heeseungspookie @sunpov @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan

[multific]

A Thousand Years

Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion tells a story of love.

"Tell me about your wife." said the man sitting in front of Astarion, the room was quiet around them, only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

Upon hearing the word, wife, Astarion's features softened. 

"It might be a long one."

"I want to hear it." insisted the man as he leaned back in his chair, waiting for Astarion to start.

Astarion smiled, his eyes filled with love as he began.

"My wife... My beloved Y/N. She saved me you know, in more ways than one. She not only helped me kill the man who caused me so much pain and suffering, but she saved me from myself.

My beloved was a strong woman, brave and incredibly beautiful. She was a kind soul and yet, she could kill a thousand men without taking a break.

She loved songs and loved to dance. Although that might be because I was the one dancing with her. She often said she didn't wish to dance with anyone else but me.

She enjoyed sweets. But only the ones I have given her.

And even if I told her not, she kept on eating them.

It has been so long yet, I will never forget her laugh. She became my world. You know, it wasn't even intentional, I fell in love by accident. I was only meant to seduce her so she would help me kill Cazador. And yet I found myself in love.

But make no mistake, I never regretted the feelings I have. Not once. Falling in love with her was so easy.

I am quite privileged to be able to tell that she was my wife.

My... scars on my back, she cried when she first saw them. She hugged me and told me how sorry she was for I had to endure such pain. She kissed me and cried at the same time. I was so confused by it, I didn't know what to do.

But then, not long after, I asked her to marry me." Astarion looked at the gold band on his finger.

"I never believed in marriage, I thought it was silly for people to bind themselves to one another, and the symbol of it all... a simple ring. I laughed at the idea until I met the person I never wanted to let go of again. Suddenly I wanted nothing more but to have her bonded to me and for me to be bonded to her. I looked and searched for the perfect rings. Matching ones, but hers had a simple stone in the middle. A stone which was made of our blood. The perfect diamond, mixed with my and her blood. And then, we were married. Not like the words of others mattered to me, I would have been happy just to have her in my life, but to have her as my wife... it meant everything. 

I will not bore you of the events directly after the wedding, leave it up for your imagination I suppose, but I can assure you, she was the first woman who could have me at her feet with a simple look.

And she always looked at me with so much love and care. She was always so gentle and lovely.

When people say love burns like fire, they lie, my love for her burns like lava, much like the core of the Earth. I was ready to destroy everything and everyone who would dare get between us. If I had to, I would have burnt down villages for her, for she was mine.

And not long after, she gave me the greatest gift. 

A gift so precious.

I will never forget the look on her face when she told me, pure happiness.

She was with child.

Something I never even thought would be possible for me and yet there she was, getting more and more round with my child, with my son. Our son.

She was the sun for me. I have lived a long life in darkness and pain, and she made it all go away with a simple simple. I had a life of happiness thanks to her." Astarion leaned back in his chair once more when the noises from the kitchen stopped.

"STOP TELLING PEOPLE I'M DEAD!"

"I have never used the word 'dead', My Love." Astarion turned to look at you as you exited the kitchen.

"But you made it sound like I am." you pouted as Astarion looked at the ring on your finger, he smiled as you placed the food on the table. "Don't listen to him, Love, he is but an old romantic." you said as you sat down.

"I am very much aware, Mother. I just like to listen to him talk about you." admitted your son as he smiled at the two of you. Now a grown man, yet all you could see was him as a little boy running around the house, hair silver like his father's but eyes the same as yours.

"That's because I love your mother very much."

"I love you too." you replied as you all finally began to eat.

You two loved each other for a thousand years, and you will continue to love for another thousand to come.

Your son could only hope to find such love.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[cannellee]

HUNTER X HUNTER OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ yandere! alpha! kurapika x omega! reader

— how does he take care of his omega ?

cw : yandere, controlling behaviour, red flags, etc.

I had this sitting in my drafts for a while now... so here it is! just like for naruto and the seven deadly sins, I'll accept requests about hxh (but my main focus will still be about tokyorev!)

MY MASTERLIST: ☆

kurapika is a kind and reassuring alpha. he wants his omega to feel the safest when she's with him, to appear as flawless as possible to make her feel sheltered and in good hands.

you don't doubt him at first, kurapika is always smiling brightly. his polite smiles soothes any worry you might have as if he had everything and everyone under control.

he might manipulate you into thinking you're imagining things if you ever get suspicious of him. he's cautious, very careful about what he does and what he says in front of you. nothing would shatter his world more than see his omega wary of him. that would mean that he failed his task at shielding you from anything unpleasant and his thoughts would torture him if it ever had to happen.

kurapika is overly worried about you, you're so frail and innocent, and he knows how mean and scary the world is, especially for sweet omegas like you... which is why he got his hunter licence. kurapika had to be better, to improve himself so much to the point that no harm could be done to you.

kurapika hates unnecessary violence. you often tell him that he's kind and benevolent and that's why you love him so much. he does feel guilty about how brutally he murders all those people who had bad intentions towards you, he's afraid you'll look at him differently if you were to learn about it, but it had to be done. he would never let anything scary come close to you, he's especially vigilant that he's aware how of horribly people are able to treat soft beings like you. he has witnessed it first hand and he dreads the thought of not being capable of protecting you well enough and seeing you hurt.

kurapika is very rigorous about which individual has the right to interact with you. he's always suspicious if you say you're going out with someone or if a random person talks to you on the streets. he fears them corrupting you so much, he'll glare at them, possessively shielding you away from their gaze by putting himself in front of you, eyes red in anger and chasing them away from how powerful his scent gets. the type of scent which makes you feel more vulnerable than usual because of how bad it affects you. those domineering pheromones of him weren't meant for you and he feels so bad you had to spend such an awful moment because of him.

kurapika will baby talk to you, assuring you you don't need to go out to actually be happy. his terror of losing you grows stronger each day and the simple fact of not having you in his vision field is enough to send him into a state you're the only one able to soothe by submitting and baring your nape to him. you wait for him to scent you, all docile, while you feel his respiration calm down.

kurapika monitors you. he started by advising you certain clothes before straight out telling you what to wear. he's the one cooking for you, he can't have his precious omega hurting herself in the dangerous kitchen. he makes sure to feed you healthy meals so you're always in good shape and keep a strong body. he's putting you to sleep at the same hour each day, sometimes forcibly so because of how stubborn you can be. kurapika knows better than a dumbly cute omega like you. you need all your hours of sleep end of story. if you're persistent, he'll either drug your hot beverage with sleeping pills or coax you into agreeing by promising you he'll take you out tomorrow if you comply right now.

kurapika knows how easy it is for him to make you obey and submit, you're his omega and he knows everything there's to know about you.

overall, kurapika is insanely worried and preoccupied about his omega. he wants both your and his world to be about your relationship only, others can get lost honestly. it's fine if you don't love him immediately, his main responsibility is to protect you, you'll eventually come to love that side of him, he's sure of it. for now, all he wants is to be needed and make sure you never experience anything traumatising just like he once did, and keep that sweet and pure mind of yours untouched.

[anemoelliacia]

the five times neuvillette knew he loved you

warnings: minor 4.2 spoilers, female reader, major fluff minus a sad neuvi who needs comforting in one part

▶ i recommend listening to the song till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas while reading this chapter <3

The first instance was when he saw you making a routine out of regularly interacting amongst the Melusine with nothing but care, practically treating them like your own children. The Melusine are virtually your favorite people in Fontaine, besides him of course. You’re always sure to greet them, never messing up their pronouns, and giving them presents on their birthdays. It is also a common occurrence for you to give them handmade lunches. The first time Neuvillette saw you in the Palais Mermonia, giving Sedene a handmade lunch his heart swelled with affection for you, the sweetest person he has ever had the privilege of meeting. He watched you in admiration, speculating that this feeling in his chest must be love developing for you. 

Secondly, is how you taste water with him despite how silly everyone thinks it is. You never fail to cooperate with tasting different waters, assuring him that you can in fact taste the difference, even going so far as to pick a favorite to make him happy by participating in his hobby. You even created a hierarchy ranking system just to rank which waters you like, and which you don’t. Neuvillette loves when you engage in the hobby of water tasting with him, and he thinks he’d wouldn’t rather share this with anyone else but you, because no one else is more worthy of drinking the more expensive speciality bottled waters he has. He thinks, “Maybe I love her and that is why I wish so much to share my hobby with her?”

Thirdly, was the first time you bid him goodbye when he left for work in the morning. He had spent the night at your house for the first time as well, and waking up to you the next morning was almost the sweetest part of everything that happened. You practically begged him to stay for the day, to blow off work- even though you know he really can’t. He could not help but giggle over how clingy you are in the morning, after you’ve just woken up. This already had warm feelings stirring within him, but then… when he was about to head for the door, that is what had his heart wanting to burst out of his chest. You stopped him before he walked out, kissing him on the cheek and fixing his crooked collar. The moment was so sweet and domestic. He felt heat rising on his cheeks as you walked him out the door telling him that you’d bring him lunch later. As he walked the rest of the way to the Palais Mermonia, his thoughts were only filled with you, replaying that moment in his head and thinking, “is this what love truly feels like?”

Fourthly, was when Charlotte asked him about you during an interview. Charlotte finally got that interview she wanted with Neuvillette, and she just had to get the hottest scoop on him. She asked him many work related related questions, but she couldn't not ask him about you after she saw the two of you together- she needs a good story! She asked him, “So, Monsieur Neuvillette, I saw you at the cafe with a woman a few days ago, care to tell me who that was?” and Neuvillette’s face immediately lights up at the mention of you, he goes, “oh, that is my beloved…” He practically goes on a rant saying sweet things about you, but he catches what he is doing and cuts himself off with a clearing of his throat as his face starts to go pink. Charlotte is standing there smiling at him widely and she says to him, “You sure seem to like her a lot don’t you?” Neuvillette does not hesitate to answer, “yes, I think it is safe to say I like her a lot, perhaps I am even growing to love her…” knowing it will be the top story in the Steambird newspaper within a few days that Fontaine’s one and only chief justice has found a lover. 

The fifth and final instance was the first time you comforted him after a hard trial. Since the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale is no longer working due to recent events, he has taken charge of deciding people's verdicts on his own. Which, as you can imagine, is a draining task- especially when a criminal’s charges are of a sensitive matter. One day, after a particularly hard case, that hurt him to have to sentence the person as guilty… all he wanted was to be in your company. He showed up at your doorstep in the pouring rain, his clothes soaked completely through. Of course, you immediately rushed him inside and gave him a change of clothing. While he was changing, you threw a pot of tea on the stove for him- and he couldn’t be more thankful for you. He quietly drank his tea in your company to warm up after being chilled to the bone from rain soaked clothing, and you stayed with him not forcing him to talk about what was wrong until he was ready. When he was ready to talk, he tugged you along to your bed to cuddle with you. For once, you held him as he spilled his hardships from the day, the rain outside never letting up; however, he quickly settled into the comfort you gave him, growing to feel at ease- and that is when he knew. He loves you, with every fiber of his being. So, he finally says, “I love you with all my heart.” and all you can do is reply that you feel the same, holding him tighter.

▶ if you liked this, then check out the other parts linked in my masterlist :) every genshin man i write for is getting their own part.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Stretch Marks

Aegon: He wouldn't care if someone he was with had stretch marks. He'd be too busy... enjoying you to really pay attention to them. After some time, he does enjoy it far more but still, to be honest, he wouldn't care if you had or didn't have them. I don’t think it'd even register with him.

Aemond: Stretch marks are a natural occurrence on a person's body, caused by skin stretching underneath pressure. He finds you are beautiful and he'd be thrilled to see you bearing the marks that testify to the many sacrifices you have made. He would have no problem with it if the person he loves was afflicted with stretch marks. He is not so shallow, that he would turn away one of the most beautiful creations the gods have brought into this world for something so inconsequential and natural.

Jacaerys: It is only a mark. Nothing more. A body is a beautiful thing, even if some scars are left behind. In truth, a person with marks on your body is as perfect as a person without them. Perhaps, with time. he would learn not to see them for the marks they are, but just another feature that makes you his.

Lucerys: If you developed stretch marks he wouldn’t be bothered by such a thing. They are a part of you, and he thinks your figure is beautiful with or without them.

Rhaenyra: I'll tell you what she'd think if she saw your stretch marks. She'd kiss them. She'd tell you that your body, flaws included, is perfect in her eyes. She'd worship you, because she is a lucky woman to be with you, and stretch marks don't make you any less beautiful.

Daemon: It does not make a difference to him. It would, all the same, be a testament to the person that he has decided to make his queen. It would be but a part of you, as all of you is part of you. He would not let something as insignificant as small scars bother him. In fact, he would even love such scars. It would show that no matter what happens, you are still beautiful in his eyes, and you are still his.

Alicent: She believes that stretch marks are an entirely natural part of the human experience. They are caused by a combination of factors, such as pregnancy, growth spurts, or simply due to natural body change. They should be seen as nothing more than simply that. Nothing about stretch marks is unattractive or unappealing in her eyes. In fact, it is quite the contrary. It shows the human experience and that beauty comes from flaws. She sees nothing wrong with them, and she doesn't believe anyone else should either which she makes clear as she shows pure adoration and kisses to those areas.

Helena: It’s hardly different. She would still feel the same. Stretch marks are natural. The only thing it signals is that you have matured. Grown. Changed. All very natural things. No person wants the same body as you had as a child, and she loves you all the same even developing a habit of running her fingers across your skin to relax her.

Harwin: Having a partner with stretch marks is an honor to him. He sees you as a strong and dedicated person if you have children, who have carried them into the world and given of your time and your body in service to your family. The stretch marks are not a defect, but rather a badge of courage and honor. They are the natural scars of something beautiful. He would not have his partner any other way.

Cregan: He sees no reason why it would make a difference. There is beauty in a person's curves. It shows him that you have no fear of eating and drinking. It is good to keep trim and in shape, but to have some extra curves on a person makes you more...pleasing to his eyes, one could say.

Criston: He would be remiss to ignore their presence. However, they are not cause for concern. They are signs of valor, not of weakness. He would comfort and assure you of his love and affection, which has never wavered. The scars tell of strength and commitment. They tell of a story worth hearing, and a person worth knowing or in his case bragging about.

[luv-gukkie]

★ 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 ★

pairing: yandere! yoongi x f. reader

genre: smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: yoongi just can’t seem to get enough at the way you look at him; he really loves it, even if it’s a mix of fear and hatred.

word count: +4.5k

tags/warnings: ᑲᥙᥣᥣᥡіᥒg, non-con, ᥡ᥆ᥙᥒg ⍴rᥱgᥒᥲᥒᥴᥡ, sᥕᥱᥲrіᥒg, ᥲᑲ᥆r𝗍і᥆ᥒ mᥱᥒ𝗍і᥆ᥒᥱძ, reader is scared to disappoint parents, wealthy!yoongi, he’s brutally mean (which is not cool), sub! reader, dom! yoongi, blackmail, mentions of bribing/corruption in a school & police, he lowkey sadistic

notes: another little story is on the works for jungkook and yoongi, unfortunately, i don’t know when i’ll finish though :’)

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

Min Yoongi was exploring his ideas, much into thought about what else he could to make you notice him even more. Every time he would torment you, he would be captured by how stunning you looked, and that was just on you wearing one of the uniforms that was required by the school.

Yoongi knew it was something that he shouldn't do to someone he loved. Despite that, he knew it was his only way to place your attention on him. He didn't really mind doing what he did, he had nothing against you. Yoongi just had a huge crush on you. And you would learn in the future of how a 'huge crush' was a complete understatement. Yet, he found it lovely when you would look around the room to see if he was there. He adored that.

You knew about him, as your bully. The guy who over the year spent his time making fun of you, and the worst thing was no one ever stopped him. His actions repeated daily. Maybe because Yoongi was the happiest person alive when you would only place the spotlight on him. Dared the others to say anything. He knew your main focus was on him as soon as you entered the school building until the moment you left. But you weren't! Not one bit of glee in your body when you knew you had five days ahead of you that would make you want to stay home because of a certain boy.

You hated him, you didn't even know what you did wrong to make him center you and torture you throughout your highschool year. But whatever you could have done, you surely regretted it.

He would constantly threaten you. Telling you threats after threats: "listen or else..." However, you began to notice that Yoongi would always repeat the same threat over and over. That if you told anyone about what he was doing, he would treat you more worse. Of course you had been petrified of asking for help from your peers or professors. You didn't want to get on his bad side even more.

But you started believing that he wouldn't even be able to stand close to you after telling an adult, that a restraining order would do the trick. So you were going to tell an adult, the adult that was responsible of the school, and you did. You had informed the principle on your situation with Yoongi and what did they do, nothing. You waited for them to assure you he wouldn't try anything. But they didn't care, and didn't even attempt to do something about the situation. You recalled calling them useless hags the next day, when you had been spotted again by Yoongi. And yet again, at his reach.

There was other options...

You were too afraid to tell your parents. You didn't know why you would be, your parents would assist you, help you overcome the obstacle of Yoongi bullying you. They would take into consideration that you could not be bullied anymore, you had finally build up the courage you needed in order for you to tell them, today. However, at the end of the day your teacher assigned you to clean the classroom after school. Just the day you really needed to go home, to prepare and relax yourself before breaking the news to your parents.

But it didn't go as plan. The teacher had to leave the classroom and told you to do some cleaning, if you wanted extra credit. And who wouldn't want extra credit, you could still have enough time to prepare yourself, plus your parents wouldn't be home until later.

What you didn't know was that Yoongi had been planning to see you after school and to surprise his lovely kitten.

Yoongi took it far, very far.

You had been cleaning up the classroom muttering some curses to your teacher when you heard the door 'bang' as it shut close. You slightly jumped at the sudden unexpected noise. Quickly turning around, you saw Yoongi, in a harsh tone you told him that the teacher was around, and if he did anything they would definitely find out. You began to pour out profanities at him, making sure to make him understand how much hate you had for him. Shouting across the room that the outcome of anything he did, would surely result in punishment.

Yoongi couldn't hold back, a smile became visible on his lips. He spoke calmly, "I have enough money from my parents to keep the school quiet. Nobody cares of your well being, the staff was easily bribed, they even accepted the first offer I had given."

You cursed at him: "fuck you." Adding that you would tell your parents and that they would take it to the police, he grinned. Your mind was racing with thoughts of how to get out of the situation, out of the classroom.

Yoongi slowly made his way to you, hoping that you would just accept the fact that you were stuck with him. But you sure were stubborn. He had been so close to having you, to only to have you run towards the other side.

You were trying your best not to get stuck between him and the walls. To approach the door.

It was a game of cat and mouse between the both of you. You were the little mouse struggling to free yourself from the claws of the wicked cat.

Finally, Yoongi gave up on being so gentle on you. He had to admit, it was cute: how you tried your very best to avoid him, at all cost. It left him with one choice, his only decision was to tackle you, so he did.

Yoongi did what he had to do.

And so did you. You definitely weren't going to let him take advantage of you. You punched him, managing to get out of his aggressive grip, only for him to yell at you with a harsh tone to come back.

Yoongi and you both knew the truth, you weren't considering to ever come back to him. You were choosing your freedom, still, even if it came with the slight prospect of getting caught by him.

Running out the door with all the desperation you had; the desire to get the hell out of the school, more importantly away from any place that Yoongi was. You raced to find anyone, your mind and heart racing: Where are all the clubs today? They were always here or the staff? Anyone?

There was still that expectation in you, that you were going to get away Yoongi. "There!" You happily annoyed, you had spotted the teacher that told you to clean the classroom, you told her everything about Yoongi in a nutshell, explaining that Yoongi was still trying to do something to you.

Something that you didn't want at all, anticipating for her to hold you and to never let go, until you were safe and sound. And at the end of the day, Yoongi would be expelled from the school, the only way to make him disappear from your life.

To never see or hear about him again.

"Found you!" a voice said from behind. You recognized it right away, of course you did, the only male that called you by that nickname. The same male that had just attacked you.

You quickly stared at the teacher, assuming she would pull you behind her and shield you from Yoongi. You indicated her to do something, gesturing your hands to her.

The tears of anxiety started rolling down your checks, you held back the choked sobs that were daring to come out any second.

She just gazed at you. You waited for her to say something. Anything. You just wanted her to aid you by fleeing you from your situation. Despite what you saw in her eyes: the condolence and remorse. What she said was unexpected, her intense gaze fell to the floor, she whispered to him, "Take her quickly because it's making me feel pity."

That was it, that was enough to break you into pieces.

Your heart ached, your emotions mixed together. You felt completely confused and fearful, the realization had hit you with an unpleasant brunt.

It was always about the money. The wealth.

The teachers followed what the student said, in this case, Yoongi was the student with money all around him, the heir to his family's businesses. Everyone listened to the commands of the rich kid—- the spoiled brat.

They were willing to turn a blind eye for Yoongi's 'ugly' demands.

You were lost in everything, mind racing with assumptions. Your eyes no longer had that gleam of hope in them, that optimism. It was long gone, no one is ever going to help you, neither are they going punish Yoongi for his actions.

Ever.

It was you against Yoongi's power, and that easily managed to get people on his side. You were certain that bribes were flooding the school, the lies that were kept in the dirt for specific reasons. Teachers ignoring stunts, like the ones Yoongi pulled on you, for their very own convenience.

You had completely forgotten of what he had told you earlier, how he had manage to keep the whole staff silent because of how he contributed to the school daily, with of course, the power and wealth he had from his family. You wished that you could've remembered, you would have made no excuse to stop running for the support from a teacher that was on his side, helping him. You should've just ran until you were out of the school, and out of his sight.

That would have definitely guaranteed your safety. Now it was just dissolved. Yoongi grabbed your sides, motioning that he was going to pick you up.

One more. Once more. One chance.

You fought against him, using all the strength that you had left. Begging the teacher to assist you, but you heard her heels click farther and farther away. Till there was nothing to hear, just his footsteps as he carried you away, back into the same direction.

Yoongi brought you to the same classroom that you had just been in. Where it all started. It was ironic that the classroom you were in had been the only class you didn't have Yoongi in. The class that made you feel secure and so sure of yourself.

Now, all you felt was horrified of what was going to become of you.

The room diffused with cries and yearns for someone to get Yoongi off you. You attempted pushing him off, but you were weak, you had used all your stability earlier. You just had to accept it. Yoongi spent that time responding back by muttering that you should 'shut the fuck up' or  'stop moving around'. It was getting on his nerves, he was an impatient man. Especially when it came to you, and dealing with your tantrum, when all he wanted was to fill you with cum.

And with his offspring.

That single thought had fractured any patience he had left. Yoongi couldn't hold it in; his hand straightened in the air as it fell down on your check with a great force. A red-hand mark was in-printed on your face. He slapped you, the action left you trembling. You were breaking down, bawling out completely, you closed your eyes lids shut.

Yoongi felt guilty, he didn't want to take these measures, like hurting you into giving him what he wanted. Exactly to how he just had. But he wanted and needed you at that moment. It was time that you learn his true intentions towards you.

Yoongi grabbed his belt and wrapped it around your hands. He sat on your legs, stopping any movement that you were doing that meant you could have a chance of escaping.

Yoongi saw his reflection on your eyes that were gleaming because of the tears that were pouring out. He had you in his arms. After every "little" debate you two had throughout the year, there you were, under him and ready for him to fuck with. Without no regrets of what he was doing. He giggled, "I've finally got you!"

In an instant your shirt was being unbuttoned by Yoongi, you wished you could swipe his disgusting smirk off his face. Was he really going to do it?

"Stay quiet, it'll be over soon." 

Your shirt was grabbed roughly and thrown at a desk, it was exactly your desk. You could see your backpack, it was neatly placed on the corner of the desk, the complete opposite of how you were.

Your hair was messy, your tear-streaked face was slightly red as the batches of tears poured out, the room was overflowing with yelps that emerged from you and constant snickers from Yoongi.

Your legs were on either side of Yoongi, his body separated them so that you couldn't close them shut at all. Then you felt the slight tug at your bra, he unclasped it, and your breasts were let loose for his eyes to devour.

And soon his mouth did too.

His thumbs played with one nipple by pulling it and flicking it, while his tongue licked the other. Yoongi had managed to make you let out a slight whine, it was something you weren't used to at all therefore feeling it for the first time had made it difficult to hold back sounds.

You paid attention to the undergarment that laid on the floor as Yoongi's shirt landed right on top of your bra. His hand snuck into your skirt, "I love your little skirt", his fingers raced against the hem of skirt and soon enough his fingers were rubbing your inner thighs.

His hands were cold and it made you shiver, especially when he was taking your panties off, sliding the material off you on to your ankles and then it was finally off. Yoongi gawked at they thing he desired for a long time, there it was, right in front of him, your pussy.

Yoongi's nose came into contact with your slit, giving it a long lick as he felt the sticky essence from your pussy get on his tongue. One of his hand squished your left breast, his other hand's digits caressed your cunt. In one motion your cunt sucked his fingers in, "Look at you sucking in my fingers", you squeaked at the sudden entrance. Repeated moans left your lips as Yoongi continued ramming his digits into you, he was enjoying every second of the view.

Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled back, your mouth wide opened to release your delightful moans of his fingers plunging themselves into you, your hands gripping onto the belt he trapped your hands in, and the sounds that came where his fingers met your pussy.

And before you could cum, his digits stopped moving and removed themselves. You were groaning at the fact that you felt a tense pain that wouldn't be let loose. You had been too into focus on the release that you failed to notice Yoongi pulling off his uniform, his fingers still wet because of your cunt, leaving marks on his clothes but he didn't mind. All he cared and was anticipating to do was plunge himself deep into your cunt.

To see you moaning, whining, and panting under him, and because of him and his cock. Yoongi would love to see what his mind was visualizing, and he was going to have it. Yoongi sure was spoiled, to have you laid on the floor, your pussy practically begging him to fuck you even though you didn't dare to utter a word.

Yoongi's cock was free as his last pair of clothing was out of the way. His hands spread your legs wider to see your little pussy sulking for his cock to enter you. His hands lifted themselves off yours inner thighs and onto your bosoms. Yoongi pressed them together and held them as he lowered his head to spectate where the two of you would connect.

Yoongi's flushed tip pressing against your folds, he moved his warm head up and down, spreading your wetness on your cunt, he hoped that it would assist in pushing himself in. "I'm bigger than average s-so", he mentioned, wedging his head into your cunt. A low moan slipped out of his mouth, his eyes rested on your expression, which was a painful one. Yoongi felt more blood rush to his cock, he pushed himself forcefully into your crimson walls, "Gosh you're such a turn on!" He groaned out.

A scream ran out of your parted lips and a following cry as well. You were in discomfort, afflicted by the feeling of something inside you, parting your walls apart. All Yoongi could do was be patient and hold back until you got used to his cock filling you up.

Yoongi stayed still, glancing at your stomach which you made you curiosity spark to see what he was so focused on. It was a bulge that showed that his cock was inside of you, it could be seen easily spotted. Yoongi hand reached out, patted the spot, and then pressed down on it. You felt an ache, and shows it by the wailing and the shedding of tears, you had started to get used to it but it still distressed your walls.

A few groans or 'fucks' escaped as he started jamming his cock harder, you still weeped. However, Yoongi had hit a perfect area that resulted in you letting out a loud whimper in return. He pounded into you with his all his force, your back arched in response. The sounds and smell had pervaded the room, your moans and whines or Yoongi's grunts and low whimpers could be heard.

The pace had gotten sloppier as Yoongi was close, you on the other hand, had already cummed on his cock. All you were waiting for now was for him to finish. His cock twitching before your walls were tainted with his cum, and you milked his dick again.

Yoongi thrusted a few more times, he made sure that you weren't on anything and that his sperm was spread throughout your insides enough for it to flourish into something.

He pulled out and pumped his cock a few times before slipping his fingers in your cunt, making sure his cum wouldn't be wasted and would be well kept in your pussy. He chose to ignore the small puddle of blood on the floor, grabbing a tissue in his backpack and cleaning it up, making sure you couldn't catch the crimson red that stained the white tissue. Hiding it in his pocket.

Yoongi was your first. You didn't want to, now here he was fixing you up while you processed everything that rushed throughout your mind. Your cheeks had dried tears on them. The scenes playing over and over in your head. Yoongi had taken your virginity, the boy you hated with your guts.

It wasn't exactly him taking it that frightened you, but the fact that you didn't want it.

"I'll drop you off at your parents, okay." He gripped your hand tightly, trying to gain your attention. You were too silent for his liking, it made him upset. Were you mad at him?

He planned on dropping you off, you had no ride and probably, didn't have the ability to walk home either. And it wasn't something Yoongi would let you do anyways. Yoongi didn't say anything and didn't do anything to you in the car ride. Nonetheless, he gazed from time to time, and if you would have turned to face him, you would have seen the concern in his eyes.

Yoongi was worried for you, he knew it must have been painful for you. He just kept manipulating his mind to believe that he had to do it or he would never be with you. You would never choose to be with him, and he couldn't let that happen.

You didn't tell them, your parents, they weren't even home the moment you arrived. Your mom worked late and your father did too, they tried making so much money, in order for you to live your life and study. Something they couldn't do. So you studied and did your best in everything. From completing every assignment, getting the best grades, and having over 90s in every class. And if you failed, even in the smallest way, you felt like a burden and you were scared of failing them.

So you stayed quiet. However, you forgot to buy something very important, and that mistake would cost you: your future.

You had told the school, they did nothing. So now you felt like no one was going to believe you. Especially since Yoongi had well explained to you that he had plenty of money to keep the whole staff silent, meaning that he had all the money to bribe the police as well.

So the only thing you had left was to keep silent and live on, maybe he won't bother you anymore. He won't follow you, or touch you either. Maybe all along, that's what he wanted. Something to stick his dick in.

Wrong.

Yoongi stayed by your side even more and instead of bullying you, he would only degrade you when didn't listen to him, he wanted you to skip classes to be with him and to keep you away from your classmates. Yoongi switched his seats, he sat next to you in all the classes, whispering to you about gross things, describing things that he wanted to do to you.

A complete nightmare.

On the other hand, you had been sick for days already, throwing up contents from last nights' dinner almost every morning. The only reason that came to mind was the stomach virus that was going around school, thinking that you probably had a weaker defense from sicknesses, so you caught it longer. It was awful.

You noticed that Yoongi had been acting weird around you lately, bringing you stuff, and to proof, bears or little love notes overcrowded your locker, leaving you with predictions that something bad was going to happen.

Soon enough it did.

You were pregnant. With his child.

It didn't make sense to you why you were throwing a whole tantrum, meanwhile he was all cheerful and relaxed, happy to know about this upcoming child. You found out after he specifically told you to take the test in the middle of the night. Yoongi had sneaked into your house, by your room window, after you mentioned you're sickness during the day. Knowing that your parents were a room away, he kept silent, and the first thing you noticed was the pharmacy bag. "You didn't use birth control...did you?" Was the first thing he whispered when both of your eyes met.

A severe panic inflicted inside you, worry that piled onto you: this couldn't be happening. You couldn't be pregnant with Yoongi's child. There was still a slight possibility that it was false.

You believed you weren't, you weren't suppose to get your period until a couple more days. Therefore, you were confident about the negative sign you would face and took the test, now here you are facing the consequences. The two red visible lines showing off the truth, after eight test and multiple pair of dark red lines, it was the same reason you were throwing up in the mornings.

The worst thing was when he told you that the both of you could raise the baby together. However, what angered you the most about his behavior was how calm he was. Especially when he mentioned that you should stop your education, that he could maintain both of you with his money, to become his wife and take care of his children.

What kind of life was that? No, you couldn't, and you wouldn't. You looked for something in your life, a profession that you would love. And that your parents would too. A career that made your parents proud, finishing highschool, heading to college, and later in life, obtaining a great job!

And this child wasn't going to help. Neither was Yoongi.

There was only one solution that came to your mind. You quickly proclaimed 'an abortion', it was the only way that you could actually live the life you wanted. Even as conflicted and horrible you felt for speaking briefly about it, you couldn't help it, you didn't want to have a child at your age.

You were still so young, had so many things left to experience, to do! A life you wanted to take slow and take your time with, every single moment of it, savoring it.

Yoongi observed you at the comment you spurred out. "Tsk- you've got to be kidding me", he studied you, to see if you would apologize, and you didn't. "You're a bitch." Yoongi couldn't believe that you didn't want to carry his child, he would give his everything to have you, but you couldn't do one thing in return for him. It destructed him. "Don't lie."

His words were the usual, and yet it was enough to know that he knew you, probably even better than you knew yourself. Of course you weren't able to do the abortion, but think about it, your future would go down the drain for the life inside of you. There would be not a lot of opportunities, Yoongi had made it clear and set on you being the house wife, no more.

However, the guilt accumulated, now you couldn't even think about the decision. Killing an innocent child, was it something you could do?

"No."

Yoongi held your hands as he blurted out the same word that was in your mind, and if you couldn't do an abortion. The rest of troubles would tumble down on you, like explaining to your parents on how you were gonna give birth to a child in the span of nine months.

——shit——

The small display of affection dispersed, Yoongi's grip compressed on your wrist, forcing your teary red eyes to look at him, meanwhile his own eyes have a glint of amusement in them.

That night was left with you cuddled in Yoongi's embrace, as he whispered 'things' that would make you have brand new batches of tear coat the dried ones on your cheeks, you just wanted to sleep.

In the end, his hand reached to your stomach, patting it carefully, a small peck landed on your forehead. "I love you", he continued telling you how much he loved you and the baby, "and always will." He deliberately tried to manipulate you.

But you knew better, his words were venom to someone's ears. Now you knew better than to fall for his devious schemes.

[solarmorrigan]

I have a lot of thoughts about Steve who craves physical affection, who thinks of his worth in terms of what he can do for other people, and who got very drunk at high school parties. This is one of them

CW for heavily implied past dubcon (not between Eddie and Steve). Please take care

-

Eddie has never seen Steve drunk.

At least – not up close. There had been a few high school parties back in the day where Eddie had passed by the “Keg Stand King,” but since he’s come to know Steve personally (intimately), Steve has barely touched alcohol.

He’s told Eddie the story of being drugged against his will and how he doesn’t want to repeat the feeling of losing control, and how he doesn’t like not being able to drive if he needs to, and how the hangover would probably just trigger a migraine anyway – and, really, he just doesn’t drink much anymore.

Yet tonight had been a special occasion: Robin’s birthday. She herself isn’t much for alcohol (for at least some reasons that match up with Steve’s), but drinking, she said, feels like a part of the birthday experience. She’d somehow gotten Steve to match her beer for beer, for “emotional support,” and it hadn’t taken long for the both of them to become entirely inebriated.

Time has apparently greatly eroded Steve’s tolerance.

Eddie had distantly expected him to be kind of a bitchy drunk—and he had become a bit cattier, for sure—but mostly he’d just become affectionate. There had been hugs for nearly everyone, and he’d spent the latter half of the party slowly migrating into Eddie’s lap, plying him with constant kisses on the cheek and giggling ridiculously at nearly everything Eddie had said.

It had been sort of adorable (not that Eddie will tell him that; no, he’s going to sit on that information until it benefits him).

It’s a little less fun now that he’s trying to cart Steve up to his room and into bed. Steve is a bit wobbly, and a lot heavy, and is much more interested in trying to cling to Eddie like a koala and bury his face in Eddie’s neck than he is in actually walking anywhere.

“Y’know, we could cuddle to your heart’s content if you’d just let me get you to bed,” Eddie points out when he and Steve have stalled out partway down the hall, leaning against the closed door to the bathroom.

Steve hums vaguely, tightening the grip he has on Eddie’s t-shirt. “But you’re out here,” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

A shiver travels down Eddie’s spine at the feeling of Steve’s warm breath ghosting across his throat, but it doesn’t go much further than a gentle, dying flutter in his gut. As affectionate as Steve has been, as hungry for contact as he’s acted all night, there’s been nothing sexual about it. It’s been all hugs and sweet kisses, not heated embraces and sloppy make outs.

Besides– Steve’s drunk. Eddie’s not going to take advantage.

He wedges a hand between himself and Steve and gently pushes Steve back.

“I’m coming to bed with you, you colossal dork,” Eddie says.

Steve blinks at Eddie, slightly unfocused. “Oh.” He finally heaves up and away from the wall, grabbing Eddie’s hand to tug him along as he weaves unsteadily down the hall. “Well why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, all affection. “Where else would I be going?”

Steve stops when they get to his room, apparently pondering the answer.

“Away?” he finally volunteers, half-questioning, as if he’s hoping he’s wrong.

“No, baby,” Eddie assures him immediately, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “I’m staying. Gotta make sure you don’t choke on your tongue after you pass out, anyway.”

“’m not that drunk,” Steve says; he rolls his eyes and then immediately seems to regret it, reaching out for Eddie’s shoulder to steady himself.

“Uh huh,” Eddie drawls. “Okay, time for bed, big boy.”

Grumbling, Steve releases Eddie to shuffle over to the bed, where he flops down on his back with a sigh, jeans and all.

“Alright, not exactly what I meant, but I can work with this,” Eddie says, kneeling on the bed by Steve’s hip.

They’d managed to ditch their shoes in the entryway, but they’re otherwise fully dressed, and Steve is going to be uncomfortable if he tries to spend the whole night in his belt and jeans.

Steve squirms a bit when Eddie reaches for his belt buckle, as if he’s not quite sure whether to move away or not.

“Eddie…” he groans – an exasperated sort of groan, rather than the usual way he groans Eddie’s name when he’s squirming on the bed.

“Just hold still,” Eddie shushes him with a quick pat to the hip.

He gets as far as pulling the tongue of the belt through the buckle before Steve’s hands shoot out and grab Eddie by the wrists. His grip is surprisingly strong, considering how uncoordinated he’d been tonight, and Eddie stills immediately.

“Steve?” Eddie looks up to see Steve staring down at him, wide-eyed and apprehensive; hell, if Eddie didn’t know any better, he might say Steve looks… sort of frightened.

“Not– not tonight,” Steve says, enunciating carefully, and Eddie’s confusion only increases.

He doesn’t want his belt off tonight? Is that what he’s worked up about?

In the wake of Eddie’s baffled lack of response, Steve only grows more insistent, tugging Eddie’s hands away from his waist.

“Not while I’m–” Steve breaks off, licking his lips nervously. He shakes his head and adds quietly, “Please.”

Brows furrowed, Eddie stares at Steve a second longer. “Not while you’re…?” Then the penny drops, and Eddie jerks away from Steve so quickly that Steve barely has time to let go. “Oh shit, no. That’s not– no, I’m not– Steve, fuck, no, that’s not what I’m doing.”

Steve stares up at Eddie, the anxiety he’s a little too drunk to mask still lingering in his eyes.

“I promise, I was only trying to get your belt and pants off so you’d be more comfortable. For sleeping!” Eddie says quickly. “But you can keep them on if you want. Hell, put on more layers. Do you want a jacket?”

Distantly, Eddie realizes he’s rambling and tries to stop; it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“I– I know I was kissing you,” Steve says, then glances away with a grimace, seeming a bit more sober now. “Practically throwing myself at you. ’m sorry, I just–”

“Don’t be sorry. Don’t be,” Eddie says firmly. “Even if you were throwing yourself at me—even though you weren’t; like, I can tell the difference between cuddly you and horny you, okay?—but even if you had been, you can still say no. You can always say no. But I swear, Steve, I was only trying to get you comfy, that’s all.”

For a moment, Steve just breathes, processing Eddie’s words as carefully as his sloshed brain will allow.

“Are you still going to stay?” he finally asks. “Even though I don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course,” Eddie blurts, some dizzying combination of baffled, anxious, and incensed. “I’m only gonna leave if you tell me to.”

And even then, he’d only go as far as the couch downstairs (just in case).

Slowly, Steve nods, then reaches for his belt to pull it off in a series of determined, clumsy movements. He drops it on the floor when he’s done but makes no move to remove his jeans.

Eddie, following suit, resigns himself to an uncomfortable night. He strips off his jewelry and his own belt but leaves his pants on.

All the lights go out, save for a small, dim lamp on Steve’s desk, and then Eddie crawls on top of the covers with Steve, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed—a gift from Claudia—up over both of them.

A little of the churning, anxious mess in Eddie’s chest eases when Steve immediately plasters himself to his side, resting his head on Eddie’s chest (and Eddie just knows there’s going to be drool there come morning, but he can’t bear to move him). All the same, even as he hears Steve’s breathing even out into sleep, Eddie can’t get his mind to rest.

What has he done to give Steve the impression that he’d try to fuck him when he’s too drunk to really say yes? What has he done to make him think he’d leave if Steve doesn’t put out?

Nothing.

Genuinely and truly, Eddie can’t think of anything. There have been plenty of times they’ve hung out, even shared a bed, and they haven’t had sex. Sure, they’re active, but they do actually do other things together.

There have been other nights where sex has seemed like a sure thing, only to be halted by an apologetic look from Steve and the start of a migraine. There have been times Eddie’s called it off because his anxiety has reared up and bit him in the ass. There’s never been anger over it.

That leaves two options: it’s either an imagined scenario stirred up by anxiety and insecurity and alcohol, or… it’s based on a different experience, in a different time and place.

All things considered, Eddie has a terrible, sinking feeling that he knows which one it is.

[raticalshoez]

Solace for the Lonely

This was an AU idea I had just aptly named "Life Series Therapy Session" where it stemmed from a stupid headcanon that after a while, Grian started to feel bad for how the games were taking a toll on his friends so instead of being an eldritch horror he uses Watcher like abilities to like.....make therapy for his friends???

Joel was his guinea pig.

Basically the premise for Joel's session was he had to find closure in his past as one of the lonelier members by helping other members who were cursed with loneliness in other life series' and help them come to terms with things.

With LL!Scar, Joel is a bit awkward because it's the first person he's conversing with so there's this sorta of whiplash and this season was the one where him going red left them both alone.

Scar is also shocked at the sight of a Joel who isn't mental, and given Scar's track record in later seasons of unfaithful soulmates and forced villainy, Joel finds him the hardest to comfort.

He opts for telling him that one day he'll meet people he can call family, hinting towards the Clockers, but never outright saying it. He thinks back on his time with the Bad Boys, and his unwavering loyalty to them. He thinks the season might've been a step towards a less solitary life for them both.

When he sees DL!Pearl is his next "client," he's much more confident. He's teamed with Pearl at this point, and he knows that she will not have to suffer her Double Life fate again.

He has to tiptoe around specifically mentioning the Mounders and the fact that they are a group that forms because he doesn't want the Butterfly Effect to take place. Being as vague as possible, he assures Pearl that one day she will find people to be devoted to again (even if he does leave out the part about them all dying before her...for her own wellbeing).

Pearl is naturally skeptical. She's been isolated on this server that's meant to be about love and in this world where DL!Joel is purposefully antagonistic, here he is uncharacteristically telling her everything will turn out okay in the vaguest nature possible. And she's just expected to believe that?

Even so, as he walks away, she can't help but feel a little more hopeful.

The last person Joel encounters is SL!Lizzie, and this one stings a bit more. Joel knows Lizzie's fate in this world, and it's not pretty for her. Lizzie didn't particularly have a happy story in Last Life either, so something about this is extra unfortunate.

Joel just goes straight in and tells her that he will always be there for her because that is the full truth and he knows Lizzie needs to hear it. Maybe not at this point; maybe at this point SL!Lizzie is completely content and nothing particularly bad has happened to her, and she's wondering why her husband is at her doorstep looking so sympathetic.

But when Joel remembers a certain party, and the way he was still attacked even after being her sole supporter, he feels he has to comfort her, and tell her that he loves her, and somehow make it so her cold and lonely death in the end doesn't feel so bitter after this is all done.

[archangeldyke-all]

Mmmmm I’ve been thinking. About. What if reader and sev have a kid but they’re divorced. And they still love each other but ended on bad terms, so every interaction radiates passive aggressiveness. But one day they fall apart and admit they still have feelings. Maybe some smut, who knows(I’d prefer it if there was smut but you do you)

OOUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHH the angst! the anger! the desire! let's do it.

men and minors dni

you've been divorced from sevika for two years now.

when people ask, you shrug and tell them that it wasn't meant to be, it was an amicable split, and you guys remain good friends.

this is true. for the most part.

you're not really friends anymore, but you're still family. you're co-parenting the coolest little girl in the world, you're bonded forever by your shared admiration of little fucker.

despite the fact that you guys don't laugh together as much as you used to, your familiarity and comfort around one another mean that sevika's still one of the few people in the world you can fully relax around.

but... you're not sure you fully believe that you and sevika weren't meant to be.

and lately, it seems like little fucker's starting to feel that way, too.

"ma." she starts from the backseat, kicking her legs in her carseat. you just got her from sevika's for the week.

"yeah, kid?" you ask.

"mom says you don't live together because you're divorced." she says-- too young to remember a time when the three of you were all living in one home.

"yep." you say, nodding.

"well... why?" she asks. you cringe and shrug, letting out a sigh while you try to think up an appropriate answer.

"what did your momma sev say?" you ask. little fucker shrugs.

"she says you got in a big fight." you bite your tongue to keep from spitting out a curse at your daughter's words. of course she'd say that. "what'd you fight about?"

"we didn't fight, your mom's just a drama queen." you sigh. your daughter giggles.

"we played queens last night! she was the queen of winter and i was the queen of summer, we had to fight in the back yard!"

you smile, imagining the scene-- sevika with a little tiara on her head chasing your cackling daughter around the little yard.

you think that's the end of the conversation, until you're back home, tucking her into bed for the night.

"goodnight, kid. i love you."

"ma?" she whispers. you nod, assuming she's going to ask you to check for monsters. "if you and mom didn't fight, why don't you love each other anymore?"

your heart breaks a bit at the question and you sigh sadly. "we still love each other, i think." you say. "but... we just love so differently."

"waddya mean?"

"like... like when you were born." you say. "you were the most amazing, precious, important thing in the world for me and your mom." you say. "and your mom wanted to show you that love by making sure you had everything you could ever need." you say simply, trying not to let your personal feelings get in the story.

if this was a friend of yours, you'd word it a bit differently. you'd say that sevika became unhealthily obsessed with work and money, paranoid and horrified about the idea of her daughter ever having to want for anything. you'd say that she started missing the important shit for late-night meetings-- doctors appointments and anniversaries and, the final straw, your daughter's second birthday party. but this isn't your friend, this is you and sevika's kid. and you aren't going to bitch about your kid's other mom to her.

"so she worked all the time, super-really hard, so she could buy you a big house to grow up in and a lot of vegetables to make you big and strong. isn't that nice of her?"

"and so we could adopt shimmer?" little fucker asks. you giggle and nod at the mention of sevika's new dog.

"yup. she worked super hard so you could have a furry baby brother." you say, nodding. she grins.

"what's wrong with that ma?" she asks.

"nothing!" you assure your kid. "there's nothing wrong with that! it's just... different from the way i show you love." you say.

little fucker pouts. "but you work too." she says. you chuckle and nod.

"yeah, but have you ever noticed that my house is smaller? 's 'cause instead of making a huge buttload of money for you, i do different things to take care of you." you say. she hums, considering this.

"like... makin' me pancakes for dinner on fridays?" she asks. you smile and nod.

"and being on the PTA at your school, goin' to mommy-daughter dance classes with you--"

"and goin' to the movie theater on our saturday girl-dates!" she cuts in. you giggle and nod.

"exactly." you say. "see? we both love you more than anything in the world, but we do it in different ways."

"huh." she says.

"which is okay." you assure her. "it's all okay. it just... our ways of loving were getting in the way of each other's."

little fucker frowns. you kiss her forehead. "i love you ma." she whispers. you smile.

"i love you too, sweet girl."

you see sevika again three nights later at little fucker's montessori talent show.

you sit beside each other like you always do-- both of you are too introverted to find any pleasure in bonding with other parents.

"hey." you grunt as you collapse into the chair beside her. she smiles at you.

"you look like shit."

"she's been having nightmares. did you show her a horror movie last week?" you ask. sevika furrows her brow, then a guilty expression spreads across her face. you sigh in disappointment.

"fuck. it was just the sixth sense! 's only pg-13, and she was supposed to be sleeping."

"sevikaaa, how many times do i have to tell you to keep the horror movies to your off-weeks?!"

"i'm sorry!" she cries. a few parents turn around to look at you two, and you elbow her. she huffs. "sorry."

"it's fine. it'll be your problem soon enough." you say. sevika chuckles.

"how are you?" she asks. you sink farther into your seat, groaning again. your ex-wife chuckles. "that bad?"

"it's fine. she's been asking about our divorce. it's just fuckin' hard to re-live it all with our own kid." you explain. sevika's shoulders slump a bit, a sad expression crossing her face.

"she did that to me last week, asked me why i don't just move you into the guest room at my place." she says. you snort.

"i know. you told her we got in a big fight." you say. sevika nods.

"'cause we did." she says. you laugh and roll your eyes.

"makes it sound so simple." you say. sevika grunts.

"it is simple." she says.

"if it was simple, we wouldn't be divorced."

"then maybe we shouldn't be fucking divorced." sevika spits out.

you turn in your seat to gawk at her in shock, and sevika's got her eyes set on the stage ahead of her-- knowing she fucked up.

"that's awfully fucking bold coming from the woman who was at the club the same night it was finalized." you growl. sevika's nostrils flare, her fingers digging into the armrest between the two of you. "honestly, i don't know why that still surprises me, after all those 'late nights' you had at the office with that paralegal girl." you spit out.

"are you fucking kidding--"

"hello parents!" a teacher greets from the stage. "welcome to rainbow montessori's annual talent show! we have a variety of performances we are so excited to show you..."

sevika's hand wraps around your bicep, sinking her nails into your skin. you try to pull your arm out of her grip, but she just pulls you toward her, her lips on your ear.

"don't go fucking anywhere when this is over. we need to talk."

the show goes great, little fucker beams when she sees you and sevika in the crowd, and then proceeds to win over the hearts of everyone in the room when she shows 'how big a bubble' she can blow with gum. a skill she got from sev.

sevika gets teary eyed with pride while she watches, and you so desperately want to take a picture of it to tease her, but you keep your camera on your daughter.

when the show is over, little fucker runs up to the two of you grinning, launching herself into sevika's arms as she laughs.

"momma sev! you're here!"

"hey baby." she chuckles, kissing her head. "amazing bubbles."

"it wasn't my biggest ever, but it was pretty close." your daughter sighs. sevika laughs.

"go play with your friends a bit, i gotta talk to your ma." she says, kissing your daughter again before setting her back down. little fucker gives you a quick hug, then runs off toward the jungle gym. your heart drops when you remember the argument you were in the middle of before the talent show.

sevika tugs you to the corner of the play-yard, away from other parents and kids and teachers. "is that really what you fucking think?" she asks when she gets you behind a few bushes.

"what?" you ask.

"you really think i fucking cheated on you?" she growls.

you roll your eyes. "it doesn't matter anymore, sevika."

"answer my fucking question!"

"well, what was i supposed to think!?" you shout. you bite your lip and close your eyes, collecting yourself before speaking. "you were at work all the time. i was still carrying my pregnancy weight, you'd come home too tired to fucking talk, much less touch me, and the second i brought up divorce, you jumped at it like you'd just been waiting for me to say the word."

sevika's silent for a second, and when you open your eyes, you catch her wiping up a few tears. your heart breaks a bit, and you bite your cheek to keep from reaching forward and wiping the tears up for her. "i'd never cheat on you. i never have-- i swear it, baby." she whispers. you just huff at the pet name. "you-- i haven't fucked anyone since you." sevika admits miserably. "i know ran saw me at the club but i was just there to get fucking plastered. i just lost the love of my fucking life, you gotta give me a bit of a break." she says.

you blink at the confession, your heart doing a backflip at her words.

"the only reason--" sevika cuts herself off, scrubbing her face and groaning. "i wanted to do this differently." she says.

"do what?"

"this." she says, waving her hands between the two of you. "this conversation. i-i've been talking about it with my therapist... i was gonna ask you to come over for coffee or something." she says. your face screws up in confusion, both at the revelation that sevika's been seeing a therapist, and at the rest of her sentence.

"what conversation?"

"i fucked up so fucking bad." sevika whispers, ignoring your question. you snort a laugh and nod.

"i'm aware." you say. sevika chuckles sadly.

"i lied." she says. you raise an eyebrow at her and she huffs. "the little fucker didn't bring up the divorce first, i did. i asked her if she ever wished we were together." sevika says. "thought maybe if i could get her fixated on it she could bug you into gettin' back together with me or something."

you snort.

"i miss you so much." sevika says miserably. "i've missed you for years, even while we were still married, and it's all my fucking fault. i thought..." she sighs, hanging her head and looking away, her eyes wide and vulnerable and unable to look at you.

"sevika--"

"i thought i didn't deserve it. any of it. you-- i was so happy when i got you. when we met and got married-- i thought i couldn't be fucking happier. then we had the kid and i..." she trails off for a second. "i was too happy. i didn't think i deserved it-- you, or the kid, or the weekend trips to the zoo and the family dinners... i didn't..."

tears start to well up in your eyes, and you reach out and grab her hand in yours. "i know." you say. you do know, you've always known this about your ex. her biggest weakness is her own self-doubt.

"and i hurt you so fucking bad." sevika sobs. "i didn't know-- i mean, i knew you were miserable, but i didn't you you thought i was cheating, honey. i didn't want to make you feel that w-- you're so impossibly perfect. you're beautiful. then and now. i just felt like, like i had to earn you guys or something. so i... i kept working because it was the only way i knew how to earn the blessing."

sevika reaches up and swipes away a few of your own tears that you hadn't felt fall.

"how do you feel now?" you ask. sevika smirks.

"like the biggest idiot in the world." she says. you chuckle. her smile grows at the sound. "like i'll do anything to undo my mistake. anything. i've been cutting back a lot at work-- silco hates it but it's been worth it to go to shit like th--"

"you've been goin' to therapy?" you cut her off.

"...yeah." she says. you smile.

"how's that been going?"

"...good." she says, simply but sincerely. you laugh.

"and what does your therapist think about your plans to win me back?" you ask. she shrugs.

"she says she's got a good reference for a couple's counselor if we want."

you burst into laughter, and sevika grins at the sound. your heart melts a bit at the sight of her toothy, goofy smile, and you sigh.

"you really haven't been with anyone this whole time? we've been divorced for years." you say. sevika shakes her head, giggling a bit.

"have you?" she asks, skeptically. you duck your head and chuckle.

"no, i guess i haven't either."

"so... should i ask for that counselor's number?" she asks. you reach out and smack her shoulder, giggling.

"you should maybe start with asking me out to dinner, first." you suggest. sevika grins.

"how about tonight?" she asks. something flutters in your stomach, something like butterflies.

"i dunno. me and the kid have plans to hit up applebees for some chicken fingers after this--"

"sounds perfect." sevika says grinning. "i'll drive." she offers.

you smile, and sevika reaches her hand out between the two of you. you roll your eyes and give her your own hand, giggling at the way she grins as she intertwines your fingers.

it feels so fucking right to hold her hand again. it feels a bit like coming home.

but it feels even better when she uses her hold on you to tug her forward, wrapping both of her arms around your waist as she presses her lips against yours. you both let out simultaneous breaths of relief, moaning as something familiar and exciting builds between the two of you.

"what're you guys doing?" little fucker asks. you both pull away, gasping and looking down at your feet where your daughter is standing, a mildly disgusted look on her face. "why's your tongue in her mouth?"

sevika snorts, and you cringe.

"we were making out. like in the movies." sevika says.

"why would you tell her that!?" you groan.

"what, like... romance kissing?" your daughter asks.

sevika ignores you and nods.

your daughters eyes go wide as she looks between the two of you.

"is it cool with you if i crash you and your mom's applebees date tonight kid?"

"like... a family date night?" your daughter asks.

sevika laughs beside you. "would that be okay?"

"this is so exciting!" little fucker squeals, jumping up and down. "are you guys getting married!?" she asks. you groan, grabbing your daughter's arm in one hand, and sevika's in the other, guiding them all out toward the parking lot.

"no, and we might not ever get married again." you say to your kid. "we're just eating dinner tog--"

"not yet." sevika cuts you off. "give it a year, it takes a while to plan a wedding. plus, you gotta help me pick out your ma's ring." sevika says. your daughter giggles in excitement.

you elbow sevika, but your glare is softened by the grin you're trying to bite back.

she just smirks, then swoops in to kiss you again.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

[wellofdean]

I read your post about Supernatural being queer somehow from season 1 and I have two questions.

1. Don't you think it straight-appropriates the word "queer" to say it just means "not normal"? That argument seems disingenuous to me, and a lot of us want representation, and to see that word applied to explicit depiction of queer sexuality, and it's a cheat that they don't. Queer studies did start as the study of queer sexualities and the experience of queer people.

2. Are you saying that the makers of Supernatural intended for it to be "flesh on queer bones"? Do you think they intentionally sat down to tell a queer story?

Those are good questions my anonymous friend. Thank you for asking. Here are my thoughts:

To answer your first question: no, I don't think it appropriates anything. Here's why: firstly, if we're talking about sexuality and gender, it's queer 101 that no one owes anyone a justification of their queerness, and not everyone who is queer is interested in labeling it or making it legible to you, and they have no obligation to do so, and not doing so doesn't make them any less queer. Furthermore, some people who are queer are not interested in sex, so what about them?

All of that together is why, for me, the entire queer project is much more deeply about non-compliance with hegemony, and specifically with hegemony around gender roles, sexuality and to put it under a big umbrella, patriarchy, than it is about who you fuck. Those things extend into so many other aspects of life that I think you can easily talk about "queering" a very wide range of topics, and possibly? ANY TOPIC.

You are responding to this post, I think, and in it, I made a choice to talk about family and hunting, and our heroes roles and characterizations in that, and did not talk about gender shenanigans or sexuality, because my point was that even before we get to anything to do with it, Sam and Dean are immersed in a queered world in a fundamental, structural way. That said, I assure you that if you go back into season 1 of Supernatural, you will find LOADS that could be said about gender and sexuality, too. As well as other things, and a particularly important area, as @ironworked pointed out in the tags, is blue collar/white collar class issues.

As I said, the depth of queerness in Supernatural is actually dizzying just in terms of the story's BONES to say nothing of how they flesh it out. Queerness is about deviation from the norm. It's about rebellion and disobedience against hegemonic systems for the sake of personal authenticity and love.

Think about Cas for a minute. Cas's whole story is that he rejects his role in a hegemonic heaven. He rebels for love, and that is pretty explicit as early as season 4 when he tells Dean "We're making it up as we go". Fellas, that is THE QUEEREST SHIT EVER even if he didn't do it for Dean, and like... HE DID IT FOR DEAN. Cas did not have to tell Dean he loved him for me to know it, and for Cas to be a deeply queered character. When he DID say it, I wasn't the least bit surprised he was in love with Dean, because seriously, we been knew. I was only surprised I got to have the immense pleasure of hearing him say it and looking at Dean's face while he took it in. Jesus. I will NEVER RECOVER.

This is my perspective on representation in Supernatural: It's excellent, and I relate to, and feel seen by it as a queer person. Nobody needs to get fucked on the maps table for me to do the math that this is a queer story. It is very, very, very thoroughgoingly canonically queer in so many ways, and not all of them are to do with sex. I think some fans will only allow it to be called queer if dudes make out in it. I am not one of those fans.

As to your second question, I think there is a wealth of evidence in the filmic oeuvre of Eric Kripke to suggest that as an artist and a writer, he is concerned or maybe even preoccupied with masculinity issues and issues around family, and around the way patriarchy fucks men up. So, yes. I think he knew what he was doing and he knew that queerness was part of the mix. For fucks sake, it's a family of men who hunt monsters. That is very fucking on the nose. Do I think he kicked off Supernatural in 2005 planning a 15 year operatic queer romance between Cas and Dean? No. I don't think anyone planned for it to go as long as it did, and it's a matter of record that some things were influenced by fan response, actors' chemistry, different writers and showrunners' preferences and etc. What I will say is that when they had a choice to "straighten shit out" or lean into the queerness, they fucking leaned in, nearly EVERY TIME. Like, it's pretty amazing how consistently they lean the fuck in.

I'll admit -- I wasn't watching it with those eyes the first time, and I didn't give it much real estate in my mind when I watched it as it aired from 2006 to the end, but the last three episodes reshaped it for me and made me angry, and also made me need to watch it all again, this time with an explicitly queer lens, and BOY HOWDY let me tell you this: the Supernatch rewatch journey is a wild and wonderful trip to Queertown. It is legit more difficult to argue that Dean is straight than it is to argue that he is queer. There is a full on CORNUCOPIA of story evidence to support that read and relatively little that convincingly counters it on the straight side, and that starts right at the beginning, when they bend pretty baby Dean over a police car in episode one, and he smirks insouciantly in his lip gloss. Do I think everyone involved knew how that looked? Sexy, submissive and a bit gay?

YES I DO.

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special

The refueling station was on a small moon in the back end of nowhere, close to nothing but a couple of wormhole junctions. Since it had a little convenience store and everything, it really gave off “7/11 next to a desert highway” vibes. Just, y’know, in space. The moon wasn’t big enough for proper gravity or air on its own, so someone had installed a gravity generator under the dusty red ground. And turned it up just a smidge too high, but I wasn’t going to complain.

I was going to buy pre-packaged alien snacks at the store while my coworkers handed the refueling. Mimi was calling the shots, tentacles waving and gravelly voice audible from here, while the Frillian twins handled the heavy lifting of connector hoses and Captain Sunlight was at the payment kiosk. The others were either staying onboard or already browsing the aisles.

I’d just picked up a pack of something colorful (doing an artful fumble-and-recovery because of the gravity) when a rowdy group of Armorlites trooped in. I didn’t pay them too much attention — just a bunch of macho dinosaurs with holstered blasters and bipedal swagger; totally normal here — but one of them said something that brought me up short.

“Hey look, another human,” said the cheerful voice. “Maybe you can get some tips on how not to be such a disappointment.” Raucous laughter followed.

I frowned in their direction and saw that they did have a human with them: a pale and unassuming guy just a bit shorter and stockier than me. He looked annoyed by the comment, but not surprised.

When he walked over to me, I asked, “What’s that about?” The Armorlites were already ignoring him.

The guy sighed. “They heard a lot of stories about humans before they hired me, and I don’t meet their expectations.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Humans doing daring things, like running for hours to get medicine to dying people, catching a diseased rat before it infected an entire space station, throwing fruit at charging fauna hard enough to make it leave…” He ticked things off on his fingers. “Exorcizing a ghost, and riding a hoversled like a skateboard fast enough to catch a bomb before it blew up. How am I supposed to compete with that?” He threw his hands in the air.

“Um,” I said, putting down the snack I was still holding. “Would it make it better or worse to know those were all the same person?”

“What?”

“The rat wasn’t actually diseased, the ghost was a howling dog, and I didn’t know the thing was explosive when I rushed to catch it,” I said. “And I wasn’t the only person throwing things at the fauna.”

“What?” he repeated, with a spread-arms gesture that smacked into the shelf. Rubbing his hand, he asked, “That was all you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Unless there are other humans doing the same things, which is possible.”

He raked fingers through his hair, setting it at odd angles. “I can’t believe this. I’d tell them, but they’d just want to hire you instead.”

I rushed to assure him, “I’ve got a job already, and I don’t want to take yours.” I glanced over at the Armorlites, who were grabbing food and accessories. One clicked a flashlight on in another’s face, prompting curses from him and laughter from the others. That tracked from what I’d seen of Armorlite culture before. Toughness was important. Kindness, not so much. “What do you do for them?”

He sighed again. “Bookkeeping, officially. They needed somebody to handle the boring stuff like money and permits while they focus on hunting the biggest animals they can sell.”

“Gotcha. That sounds … exciting.”

“It’s not. It’s like going on a trip with my cousins again, except they’re even bigger and make fun of me for not having claws.”

“You’ve got other stuff going for you, though!” I said. “We just need to figure which of your differences they’ll respect most.”

“I’m all ears,” he said with a certain level of sarcasm. “Please tell me what about my fragile human physique will get me respect from the Mighty.”

Oh right, they did call themselves that. I’d almost forgotten. At least they were a straightforward species without a lot of mysterious depths.

“Well,” I said, thinking. “They like fighting. You’re more suited to stealth than they are, small enough to hide and do sneak attacks that they wouldn’t see coming. What if you introduced them to rubber band warfare, and sniped from hidden parts of the ship?”

“Nope,” he said. “That would just end with me cornered somewhere, and them showing off how even thin scales are tougher than my skin.”

“Good point. Oh! What kind of animals do they hunt? You said big ones, but do you know the specific names?” I got out my phone and brought up the database of known fauna that I’d talked Captain Sunlight into buying for me. As her own hired animal expert, it was really the kind of thing that I should have. My vet training on Earth only went so far.

“Uhhh, I think the last one was a treehorn,” he said. “Wait, they talked about going for Argoshan Dagger Birds next.”

“Right. Now what kind of noises do those make…” I typed quickly. Big creatures indeed, by the looks of it: Dagger Birds had prevented more than one colony from getting a foothold in the wilds of a nearby world, and were unlikely to stop being a threat anytime soon. I skimmed the rundown for the vocal files. “Here we go. Mating call.” Keeping the sound low enough for just us to hear, I played the croaking warble.

“Okay?” the guy said, confused.

“Can you imitate that?” I asked. “Give it a shot. Kinda like a frog. Woarrrk.”

Looking skeptical, he did. The expression on his face said he wasn’t impressed with his own efforts, but it sounded accurate enough to me.

“Great!” I said. “Give that a bit of practice, then you can go out with your crew and impress everybody by luring in some targets for them.”

“I could,” he said thoughtfully. “I usually stay on the ship while they’re hunting, but it might be worth a try. Can I have a copy of that sound for practice?”

He got out his own phone and I played it again so he could record it. The Armorlites were dumping things onto the front counter, ready to pay and leave. I caught sight of bright packaging that I recognized, and I had another idea.

“Thanks,” the guy said. “This might actually help. What was your name?”

“Robin Bennett,” I said with a belated handshake.

“Oscar Tennyson,” he replied. “Thanks for your help. Looks like I should grab my stuff and get going.”

“Before you go. See those tall cans with the purple labels?” I pointed at something the Armorlites were buying.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever tried that?”

“No! They get wasted on it; I’ve steered far clear.”

I grinned with all my teeth. “That’s not alcohol. That’s caffeine.”

“What?”

“Humans can process caffeine better than most species on our own planet, and just about everybody in space. It’s a poison to most. It gets them super drunk, but for you—” I pointed at him with glee. “For you, it’s just a bit of energy. Pick your moment, then walk in casually while they’re getting wasted, and slam one down. See what happens.”

He was smiling now. “You’re sure? It’s really just caffeine? How much?”

“I checked into it before. One of those huge cans is like a watered-down coffee. These guys are absolute lightweights, and they don’t even know.”

He grinned to split his face. “That is the best news.”

One of them called for him to hurry up, and he bid me a quick goodbye before scampering off. I saw him grab food cubes, water, and a six-pack of caffeine, which he bundled onto the counter as the Armorlites headed out the door.

“Be right there! Just getting some stuff!”

They didn’t look, simply telling him not to waste any time. He smiled his way through the purchase.

Peeking over the shelves, I smiled too. Then I went back to my own purchases, with thoughts of getting an energy drink or two in his honor.

~~~

These started as backstory tidbits for the main character from this book, and turned into a sprawling adventure series in their own right. The sequel book will feature a return of some familiar faces. And Patreon is coming soon — even the free tier will be a handy way to keep up with the ongoing shenanigans of this particular human in space.

[melminli]

Devil's Advocate II

pairing: hazbin hotel x fem. reader

summery - after you died, you didn't really find it surprising to end up in hell. though, what you did find quiet amusing was that your life down here sucked just a bit less than the one before.

word count: 1.5k

contains: cursing, strong language, sinner reader, violence, religious themes (obviously), sexual themes, demon horniness

part I

"So...ya and that pretty lady over there seemed to be pretty tight, if ya know what I mean." Angel Dust asked curiously, ready to hear some tea. He grinned as he tilted his head to the side flirtatiously. "She some ex of yours, or somethin' like that?"

Husker just looked at him with his usual grim look while he was cleaning a few glasses. Then his gaze briefly wandered away to your figure, who was forced to deal with the Radio Demon and the Princess of Hell. Yeah, you haven't really been successful in getting out of this hotel yet.

"None of your business." He said with his monotone voice and let Angel hang his head in disappointment. "...I'm far too sober for this shit."

A groan could be heard. "Oh, come on, ya grumpy cat! Don't leave me high and dry, I know there's some good story to be heard!"

Before Husker could leave him hanging one more time, a red demon manifested next to them, much to their surprise. "I would also like to hear this good story, if you wouldn't mind sharing it with us, my good friend!" Alastor expressed his interest and looked menacingly at the barkeeper for a few seconds to make it clear that he did not have the privilege of turning his request down.

Fuck you, Larry. This is all your fault. "...we go back a long way." He reluctantly shared the information. "She was obsessed with money back then too, so I saw her in the same casino as me sometimes. Though, she died a long time before me, so I've only really known her since I went to hell." He summarized as briefly as possible.

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow. "That's it?" He asked, a little disappointed, even though he hadn't expected the man in front of him to be a good storyteller. "How did she die?"

Cat eyes looked a little nervously at the two people in front of him, while he didn't make a sound. How unfortunate, Alastor thought to himself, and his sharp teeth showed as he understood the situation. "Looks like Husker isn't allowed to tell us this information. That's very interesting! Very interested indeed..." He laughed, and his creepy gaze shifted briefly to your figure. "Seems like we need to find out directly from the source."

The once Overlord looked over at Angel Dust with slight concern and saw how the spiders' eyes were also glancing towards your form. It wasn't that he didn't trust you, but demons as reckless as him fell into your trap like flies to a web. Besides, it wasn't like he was on your best side right now. "I'd be careful." He said to the crowd even though he didn't give a rat's ass about Alastor. "She's not known for making packs with demons left and right for nothing, and I can assure you there's not the slightest chance of escaping from her contracts once you're in it." He said and added. "That's the price for holding up her end of the deal without any sneaky tricks, I suppose."

Well, that sounded unusual. After all, it was normal that one Demon after another stabbed the other in the back, there was no such thing as trusting the other person's word. But maybe that was why you were so popular. "Calm down, I'm not gonna sell my soul to her." Angel laughed. I couldn't even if I wanted to.

Husker placed another clean glass on the counter. "It doesn't have to be your soul. She'll find something she wants from you, and she's good with her mouth, so you'll give it to her. They all do in the end." He said and reached for a bottle of whiskey, ignoring the two incredulous looks he received. He took a sip and was initially confused as to what was going on with the two until he realized what he had said and choked on his drink. "Words! I meant to say words, damn it." He corrected himself.

Alastor didn't blink for a few seconds, and Angel, on the other side, just laughed amusedly. Maybe he wasn't so wrong with his first guess, after all. "Of course ya were."

"Well, thank you for your kind hospitality, but I'm afraid that I'll be taking my leave now." You spoke to the two girls. As much as Charlie regretted it, she couldn't convince you to spend a few nights at the Hazbin Hotel. Apart from the fact that she would have had a new guest, it might have enhanced the hotel's reputation if someone as renowned as you had visited. Though, unfortunately that didn't work out.

I've messed up again. Charlie tried not to look too depressed, even though she really was an open book. "Oh, all right. Thanks for listening to me."

You smiled while rubbing her shoulder. "Of course, darling." You replied, but that didn't really seem to cheer her up. You couldn't help but be a little gentler with her, she had a good heart for a hell born. "Let's make a deal." You suggested to her as an idea popped into your head.

Right after the sentence came out of your mouth, Vaggie narrowed her eyes and stepped protectively in front of her girlfriend. "Charlie doesn't make deals with demons like you." She said protectively, and you leaned closer to her at what she said. Your pupils narrowed to slits and two more eyes opened menacingly on your face. "What do you mean with demons like me, little lady, hm?" You asked her as the light in the room began to flicker, and you saw her continue to stand her ground, even though you could smell the slight fear emanating from her.

You pulled back again and returned to your normal self. "I'm just kidding, I know I'm a greedy bitch." You laughed out and saw how Vaggies eye twitch in irritation while Charlie laughed along a little uncomfortably. "Well, even though I wouldn't mind making an official deal with the little princess, I was thinking more of a friendly kind of deal." You suggested. "I'll put in a good word if the subject of your hotel comes up with anyone I know, and in return, I'd just like to ask you for a teeny tiny favor."

That didn't sound so bad. It would be good for their image if someone like you would spread a few good things about the hotel. Before Charlie could agree, Vaggie straddled back in. "And what does this favor involve?"

You conjured up a collar with a bell and an old Poloroid camera with a snap of your fingers. "Make Husk wear this and take lots of photos of it. Preferably of the process too, 'cause I'm working on some thank you cards for my company." You say and put the two things in her hands. You then remembered something. "Oh! And give this to him too." You added and handed Charlie a piece of paper. "That bastard owes me sixty thousand dollars 'cause of that Berry guy, or whatever his name was."

You were about to turn around and walk to the door when you met two red eyes right in front of you. "Leaving us so soon, what a shame." Said the Radio Demon with a smile as you took a step back so that you were no longer face to face. "Your presence turned out to be quite entertaining, I too had secretly hoped that you would give our great hotel a chance." He announced, pointing his funny stick at you.

You pushed it aside with your finger. "Well, thank you, Blossom, but I'm afraid my presence is in demand at other places." You pronounced not very regretfully.

He raised an eyebrow and would find your nicknames more amusing if he'd understood the reference. "And where would that be?"

You looked neutral. "I actually have a massage appointment at six. See you then." You said goodbye and went away with a poof after you clapped with your hands.

A few seconds of silence passed after you disappeared, and Vaggie looked at the objects in her hands again, a little questioningly. "So, what's the best way to go about this?" She asked Charlie, who was already looking thoughtfully at the bar. "Let's ask him first. Maybe he's in a good mood."

Vaggie looked at the man in question and saw him drinking a large bottle of alcohol before throwing it in the back to get his hands on another one. "Sweetie, do you know Husk?"

[radiant-reid]

okay but a blurb with baby spence (i’m talking like he just joined the bau and barely talks to them he’s so shy) and one day his absolutely gorgeous pregnant wife comes to see him and everyone is just so shocked because this guy?? has a pregnant wife?? and they’re also shocked that he pulled her cause she’s so beautiful

this has been my nightly scenario for the past like two days

- 🍓

hot wife!reader >>>>> i'm still on that shit. also this is so cute because then Jack and baby Reid could be besties

No one knows much about Spencer Reid. He's timid, but he's good at profiling and he gets his paperwork done so no one's complaining.

Despite what you told him about how everyone would love him, he feels like he's not fitting in like he's in a lab at Caltech and he's the only student with no one to be his lab partner.

He's nervous when Derek extends the invitation to a night out at the bar to include him. The little joke about whether he'd actually get served or if his baby face was too young helps assure Spencer it's casual, that they're on their way to becoming friends.

"Please come with me." He begs as soon as he's home. His head is resting on your shoulder as you face the TV. He prefers your lap but your bump is a little too big for it to be comfortable.

"I'm not sure I'll make a very good drinking buddy." You joke, pointing at the reason you can't drink.

He laughs slightly, the purest sound. "I just mean- it would be good for you to meet the team."

You agree with that. The BAU is dangerous and dark, and it would be good to know who's taking care of your husband.

Plus, you'll do almost anything he asks. "Sure."

So you get dressed up a little. Nothing too fancy, and no heels since your feet look like they've been stung by a bee. Spencer insists you're the most beautiful person in the world before dragging you off and into the warm night. A summer baby you're having.

You're not sure what to expect. To your knowledge, Spencer hasn't told the team he has a wife, much less that he's having a baby.

He stops in front of a table, and you squeeze his hand for reassurance. "Hi, everyone, this is my wife, Y/n." He introduces you.

They're surprised, shocked even with matching raised eyebrows and slacked jaws. The looks aren't new, and neither is the math they're doing when they look at Spencer. He barely looks 18, much less a married, soon-to-be father.

"Wow, we didn't even know there was a Mrs. Reid." An attractive guy says, shaking your hand. "I'm Derek Morgan."

"And a soon-to-be baby Reid." One of the women says excitedly. She pulls you in for a hug, which has become awkward with the size of your stomach. "Any time you need someone to watch him or her, I'm here. I'm Penelope, by the way."

You chuckle, nodding your head appreciatively. Easiest childcare you've found yet. The rest of the team is just as welcoming, shaking your hand and telling you their names. Spencer's less jittery by your side, and he's all smiles when he walks off to get you both drinks, even though he knows you're probably telling stories about the awkwardness of the start of your relationship. He's not phased by it anymore, he got the girl.

[joydoesathing]

what would happen if anatolii knew about this. What was Nacho thinking just running away was he that different compared to now

*cracks knuckles*

hoooooo boy, get ready cuz i got a whole character arc below

(again this is just my take on the story, so it's highly headcanonned)

"I'm sorry for running away. I'll make sure to make it up to you and your mother..."

nacho was more reckless back in his former years when he was first having a fling with frances. but when he did get her pregnant, he realized that he messed big time. realized that not only he's got a child on the way but has no means to provide for them both and isn't personally ready for big commitments like being a father or even getting married. why would he be? he was barely even 20. he never really thought that far ahead.

he didn't want to ask his parents for help. they'd definitely kill him if they figured out he got this girl they never met pregnant. he didn't also have the guts to tell frances the bad news.

his buddies at the time, who were just as reckless and short-sighted as he was, recommended that he could just... leave all that complicated and deep mess with frances behind him. just run away.

i mean he could do it. like him, frances probably wouldn't turn and complain to her parents first for help (for the same reason nacho wouldn't turn to his own parents for help) . his parents doesn't even know they had a fling together. even if she will become desperate enough to find them and try to turn to them for help, would they even accept her? let alone believe her?

"you wouldn't get in trouble. there's no one else that knows about it than you two."

" i mean, i'm sure she'll figure out something. she should know at least the basics."

that's what his buddies kept on assuring him. but even he could see that just up and deserting frances like that is just straight up cruel.

but was he in any room to still complain? it's not as if he had the resources nor the strong will to commit and face the heavy consequences of his actions.

and with that, he ran off but wracked with the small feeling of guilt.

while he tried having his new start, that feeling of guilt just grew bigger and bigger and started eating away at his conscience. he kept on trying to deny and delude himself with the words of his buddies, but it did nothing to stop that guilt completely.

it made him finally see that he's nothing more than a dirty dog running with its tail between its legs. a jerk and a coward. he had a feeling that he was going to have his comeuppance and it wasn't going to be pretty.

and so it did, a year and a half after he ran. his partner, depressed and completely driven to madness , tracked him down and almost murdered him in a psychotic rage.

he was forced to see the result of his cowardice and neglect. he didn't blame frances for doing that. who wouldn't go mad if they've been abandoned by someone who thought they could trust?

after she was stopped, he decided not to press charges on frances , although that didn't stop her from still getting institutionalized. being incapable to care for her child, nacho finally decided to man up and take his and frances' child up as his own and take raise him.

he knew that it's such a scummy thing to do. to just NOW take up the responsibility when everything was blown out of proportion. but he decided to not run away now, just because of that. his son needed a parent more than anything else now.

as he went on raising anatolii, he felt that he had absolutely nothing to be praised for. unknowing people says: "you're such a strong man, raising a son all by yourself."

he just did what he should have done from the start. right now, he takes care of his son wholeheartedly as an act of repentance, for both frances and anatolii. to show that he's truly sorry for being the coward he is.

for now, nacho is keeping the truth the whole mess between him and frances well-kept from anatolii. the only thing that anatolii does know about his mom is that she's alive but never drops by to visit due to some "personal problems and conflicts". but nacho always assures him that his mother loves him no matter what.

[mydearzero]

helloooo beautiful, ur recent Spence fic sent me feral - can I request a Reid x reader where they’re dating and the non bau!reader gets jealous of JJ getting to spend all this time w Spence at work and spence reassuring her it’s nothing between them. Fluff but if it got smutty then hey ;) thank you gorgeous

Hii! Thank you so much for your request! I hope you enjoy!! I was honestly feeling kinda mushy about this one so adding smut just felt out of place, sorry for that one folks

About a Girl | Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You could never be like her. You were at peace with that. So why couldn't you shake the jealous, envious feeling whenever you saw Spencer with JJ?

Contents: NO Y/N, gn!Reader, angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, comparing yourself to others, insecurity, fluff, non-BAU!reader, bathing together.

1.8K words it's short I know

SSA Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau: Mom, profiler, and one of Spencer's best friends. You looked up to her, in a way. She was successful and respected in her field, something anybody could only wish for. Combined with her sense of humour, personality and undeniable good looks, you were jealous. 

It had taken some time for you to admit it to yourself. You liked JJ. She was a good, honest person and a great friend to your boyfriend. But you slowly felt yourself comparing yourself to her increasingly often. 

You couldn't live up to it. You weren't like JJ. Somewhere deep inside, the logical part of your brain told you that you didn't have to be. Spencer liked you for who you were. You knew it, yet you couldn't shake the envious feeling anytime her name fell in conversation. You couldn't stop the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever you saw the head of long blonde locks fall backwards in a hearty laugh directed at your boyfriend. 

Spencer knew something was wrong. How could he not? It was ingrained into his very being to read you at any given time. He wouldn't understand. You loved him, you did, but these were the types of things he just couldn't seem to grasp. You knew your feelings were irrational in theory. But that didn't mean you didn't still feel them regardless. He'd try to explain them away. 

So you didn't tell him. Refused to talk about the simmering bitterness. 

It frustrated Spencer. You could tell. He was usually able to read you like the morning paper, thrown carelessly on the lawn. He couldn't be objective in his profiling when it came to you. He knew you were on friendly terms with his best friend, so why would he ever assume that that was the problem? 

You didn't blame him, didn't blame anybody but yourself. 

It wasn't until a regular Thursday night dinner over at Rossi's that Spencer finally figured it out. The atmosphere was light, wine was flowing, and stories were being shared. Spencer laughed wholeheartedly at one of JJ's tales about Henry's late-night shenanigans. He'd caught your strange, longing gaze directed at JJ. His heart broke at the realisation, putting the pieces together at lightning speed.

You were jealous of his friendship with JJ and beating yourself up for it. He didn't know what to do about it. He could only assure you he loved you, but Spencer knew you knew that. He knew you were likely aware your worries were unwarranted. Which must only make you feel worse about the feelings you were harbouring. Spencer cursed silently at himself for not realising it earlier. 

You met his gaze, giving him a soft, genuine smile. So, the feelings weren't directed at him. It was JJ who was troubling you. He turned to her, seated next to him. You'd insisted on sitting next to Emily, claiming you needed to catch up with her. Were you punishing yourself for feeling the way you did? By making him choose to sit next to JJ? 

Spencer excused himself from the table, claiming to feel unwell. You frowned, gathering your things, saying your goodbyes and following Spencer out the door. He didn't speak as his hand met your lower back, guiding you to the passenger side of his car. He held the door as you got in. 

The ride to his apartment was silent but not necessarily unpleasant. Spencer's hand reached for yours over the console, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand in a soothing manner.

"You okay?" You asked. He'd seemed fine only minutes earlier. He nodded, squeezing your hand. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" Spencer inquired. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why he'd ask. He was the one that wanted to leave, after all. 

"Yeah? I'm fine. Why? Is that why you wanted to go? Because you thought I wasn't?" You'd been having fun exchanging stories with Emily. What had he seen that had made him immediately pack up and leave? 

"Yeah... Let's talk when we get home, okay?" He sent a quick look into your eyes, assuring you it was nothing bad. It didn't make the dread building in your stomach any less present. 

Spencer parked the car and got the door for you. He usually was a true gentleman, but he was noticeably going out of his way to ensure your comfort. 

You walked up to his door and waited for him to unlock it. He took your jacket and hung it on the rack beside his own. You took your shoes off and put them by the door, giving Spencer a peck on his cheek as he passed you into the kitchen. 

"Tea?" His voice echoed. 

"Yes, please!" You replied, plopping down on the couch and getting comfortable. Spencer was obviously not troubled by the topic he wanted to talk about, so the tension you felt in the car was slowly dissipating. 

Spencer walked carefully with the mugs in either hand. He put yours in front of you before sitting down and taking a tentative sip of his own, hissing at the heat. 

"You wanted to talk?" You urged, no longer having the patience to wait. 

"Yeah... I just noticed something tonight I should've noticed before. I don't know how to change your feelings about it, though. I know you know I love you more than anything. So, I understand you're feeling conflicted, and I'm not mad you kept it to yourself." Spencer started. He was hesitant. 

"Kept what to myself, Spence?" Your heart was beating fast, and you cursed your body for overreacting. He obviously wasn't mad or breaking up with you. 

"Your feelings about my friendship with JJ," Spencer spoke outright. Your heart dropped, and you couldn't help but feel caught. You closed your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek, turning your head away from him.

"I'm right, aren't I?" Spencer's words were quiet, but you knew there was no use hiding it from him anymore. You nodded in defeat before jumping to your own defence. 

"I know it's irrational, okay? I know I have nothing to worry about. I know JJ's just a good friend, and she's happily married to Will, and she has the kids and... And I know you'd never do anything to jeopardise our relationship, and I know you love me, but you spend so much time with her at work, and she has a key to your apartment, and I know it was just to look after your mom while she was here-" You rambled, but Spencer sushed you. 

"Hey, hey. I know. I know. There's no need to defend the way you're feeling. Sometimes, feelings can be irrational, and I do spend a lot of time with her. I know that you know, okay? That doesn't make the way that you're feeling any less valid," Spencer assured you. 

"I'm so sorry, Spencer. I just- I can't stop it once I start. She's amazing, Spence. And I know you'll say I am, as well. But it's not the same. It'll never be the same. I can't give you what she does." 

"And I'm not asking you to. I'm in a relationship with you. She's one of my best friends. Those dynamics offer different things, and I'm okay with that. If you want me to change my dynamic with JJ, I'll work on it. Just tell me what you need, please," Spencer begged. 

A singular tear escaped your eye, rolling down your cheek. You wanted to scoff at it. You'd kept it in for so long. You weren't even sure where the bitterness came from nor where it was truly directed. 

"I guess I just need the external validation. I know you love me, and I feel it. My head knows you wouldn't let anything get between us. It's just my heart that won't cooperate." Spencer tugged you to his chest, putting a hand in your hair and stroking softly. 

"There's no need to apologise. You can't force your body to change how you're feeling, unfortunately. If it was that straightforward, my job would be a whole lot easier, too." Spencer laughed. 

A short laugh escaped through your tears. "I know, Spence. I just wish I could shut it off. JJ's a wonderful person. She doesn't deserve this." 

"And neither do you. And if it's gonna take some extra effort from me to make your body catch up with your head, I'll gladly put it in. Come on," Spencer got up, taking your hand in his. You trailed behind him as he stalked to the bathroom. He turned the faucet on, waiting for it to get warm before letting the water fill the bathtub. He put a generous amount of aromatic soap into it, letting it bubble. 

"Wait here," he urged. 

You stared at the grout between the tiles, following the paths it created as you waited for Spencer to return. The sound of the water plummeting into the tub covered any conspicuous noises coming from whatever he was doing. Steam was slowly forming around you, the bathroom filling with the lavender scent of Spencer's favourite soap. 

He quickly returned, arms filled with all sorts of products. Candles, snacks, a book and some comfy clothes. 

"Why're you still dressed?" He questioned, positioning the candles around the tub and bathroom. 

"You said to wait!" You shrugged. 

"Well, get on with it!" Spencer laughed, encouraging you to undress. 

"Gee, Reid. Someone might almost think you want to see me naked." You winked, tugging your top over your head. 

"Oh, I always want to see you naked, but that's not what tonight is about," Spencer assured. He lit a few candles, their light making the bathroom less clinical-looking in an instant. 

You remained in your underwear, assuming Spencer would be joining you after his frantic preparations. When he finally had everything arranged how he wanted it, he undressed. You took off your underwear and let him help you into the bath, careful to avoid any candles. He got in behind you, pulling you backwards to settle against his chest. 

"I love you," Spencer declared, taking some soap and rubbing your back. The great thing about having a boyfriend with an eidetic memory is that he could remember many massage techniques intended for relaxation. You unwound under his gentle touch. 

You stayed in the water until both of you were pruned up. Spencer had read to you, fed you snacks, massaged every part of your body he could think of and made sure you felt loved. 

Sure, you weren't like JJ. But she wasn't like you, either. And that was okay. It wouldn't make Spencer love you any less, nor her any more.