#noose sweat

[stylized-corpse]

Tonight! Stoked to be playing alongside Haggus!

[faeriegothfather]

Emma Goldman, Noose Sweat, Amygdala, and Smuther @ Red Gate. 09/07/23.

[bestfuckinmusic]

Noose Sweat - Murder Suicide - 2024

More Canadian brutality from British Columbia!

[putridintercourse]

noose sweat - murder suicide

[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [8]

pet!au part 8 | ghoap x fem!reader | tag list

the walls have eyes

cw: non-con elements, videoing/surveillance, author tries out a scottish accent, dark content, dd:dne

Sweat clings around your throat like a noose. 

It nestles underneath your collar, sticky and thick, where the leather adheres to your skin like it’s becoming a part of you. You’re morphing. Becoming the dog Simon so desperately pretends you are. A finger slides between your skin and your damnation, collecting moisture and grime, and you grimace. It’s fine. You wipe your hand on the grass underneath you, and you remind yourself a little bit of sweat is worth it. 

You’re outside. 

Rays of sun kiss your skin between dancing leaves in the humid summer air as the grass acts as a bed below you. You could cry. You feel it build up in the back of your throat and the corner of your eyes — an odd relief. You never thought you’d be outside again, forever locked in that house with that crazy man and his disobedient mutt. Sweet summer breeze teases your hair and cools your skin as you lean against the trunk of a tree. Nature's call whispers just beyond the edge of the forest where a cool stream babbles as it smooths stones and sediment along its bed. 

This is the most free you’ve felt since you’ve arrived, though it doesn’t come without its drawbacks. There’s a ten foot radius in which you’re allowed to travel, as Simon had taken care to tie you tightly to the tree via your collar, ensuring you couldn’t escape. Of course, you can always undo your collar. It is something you’re granted that most animals aren’t, but you don’t bother. Johnny had begged and pleaded fruitlessly to allow you to join him in the forest — where he’s surely stalking around now — but Simon would have none of it. You’re left alone with the brute as he tends to a modest garden with flowering tomatoes and cucumbers while Johnny allows himself to be swallowed up by the thick foliage and bramble of the woods. 

While Simon works, you are allowed peace. Birds sing and call to one another in the branches above you as you pull budding clovers from the base of the tree. Pale green roots peel easily beneath your fingernails where you shove them into your mouth. Its flavor is bland — watery and earthen. It’s the closest thing to freedom you’ve tasted for weeks. You savor it. Roll it around your tongue before swallowing. 

“Bonnie!” 

Johnny calls your name from the skirt of the forest, returning from his adventure with a wild array of flowers in hand. Metal clinks as the tag of his collar jingles, and he approaches you with a grin. Knees sink into the grass next to you as he holds the flowers for you to take. You’ve gotten better at not flinching when he moves around you. 

“Look. Pretty, aren’t they?” he asks. 

There’s no rhyme nor reason to the mess of flowers in his fist. Bruised daisies with spindly stems mixed with bright yellow buttercups and blood red poppies. They’re tied together with the thin, malleable stem of some greenery you don’t recognize. There’s a surprising weight to them as you take it into your own hand, thumbing over the cool stems.

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, voice stiff. 

“Just like ye. So pretty 'n soft.” He looks at you, and you can see the earth's reflection in his eyes as it curves around the shape of your body. Large hands reach for you, warm palms cupping your cheeks as you freeze, tree bark digging into your spine. “Ah cannae get enough of ye.”

That brief taste of freedom quickly dies in your mouth as Johnny’s lips press against yours, and you are reminded that not even in the glory of the outdoors are you safe. He is surprisingly soft with you, a gentle and adoring embrace, but there is a heat behind his skin that bubbles and roars. You feel it fight against him, skin searing and blistering. He’d eat you alive and leave your bones to bleach in the sun if he wanted. 

Johnny doesn’t stop at just a kiss. He never does. Greedy hands paw at your chest, pinning you against unforgiving bark as your heels dig into the soft earth underneath you. It gives you no purchase as your elbows buckle underneath his weight as you attempt to urge him off. In your head, you scream as clear as day, but your mouth makes no sound. 

“Johnny!”

Simon’s voice is the only reason he listens to, and the man tears himself from your lips as he looks over his shoulder. Thin strings of saliva keep the two of you connected, but they break with a gentle gust of wind. A basket of vegetables sits in the brute’s gloved hands, and you want to laugh at how terribly domestic he looks with dirt stained pants and a sweat slicked brow. For a moment, he almost looks human. 

“Bring ‘er inside,” Simon orders. 

Muscles tense in your body as Johnny undoes the tether keeping you bound to the tree. Wilting fibers of pretty flower stems stain your hand, grip having destroyed their beauty in your poor attempt at denying Johnny his only right on this property. You leave them on the ground underneath the tree as Johnny beckons you inside with him. Truly, they are beautiful. Vibrant colors, soft petals — but you will not damn such an innocent thing to the same life as you. Better to rot in the shade of a tree. 

By some miracle, you are left alone after you’re locked back inside. You’re perched by the window in the living room, gazing at the dying bouquet of flowers as a curious bird pecks at the decaying flesh of its pollen. You envy it. Not the bird, but the floral mess it tears to shreds. You shouldn’t. You are already in the flower's shoes. One in the same. Dainty things too soft to fight against the fingers that plucked you up from home. You wonder if, at the end of all of this, you’ll be laid to rest beneath a tree that will sing whispering lullabies to your corpse. 

Sharp, grating metal clinks and clatters in the kitchen. A fetid odor wafts around the house, assaulting your nose with a sharp sting that not even the breeze blowing through the window can quell. Curiosity gets the better of you as you slip free from your perch and you quietly wander through the living room. After spending more time than you would like to be trapped in that home, you have every squeaky floorboard memorized; you approach in silence. 

You gingerly peer around the corner of the entrance to find Simon sitting faced away from you. Hulking shoulders stretch apart a stained white shirt as he scrubs away at something with a stained toothbrush. Metal parts of varying sizes lay in neat lines in front of him, coupled with a wood stock of —

A gun. 

Beautiful and well loved, the dark stain of the wood stock glistens in the light seeping through the windows as Simon scrubs at the inner mechanisms with a solvent. It’s gutted, completely useless, and yet your blood turns to ice in your veins. Every organ freezes its functions, and you’re left in breathless terror. It shouldn’t surprise you. He drugged you, kidnapped you, and now keeps you like a pet; why wouldn’t this monster have a gun? And still, it’s a violent reminder. He’s trusted himself this far to keep you in check without such weapons — a gun wouldn’t be as fun as his bare hands. 

Simon huffs as he places the part down in favor of a new one, coating the toothbrush with solvent before continuing to scrub again. Your brain finally begins to wake up as it sounds alarms, urging you to flee, but as your eyes scan the surface of the table you quickly realize there is no running away. There is no hiding away where his eyes would not reach you. 

Phone propped up against a tool kit, Simon has a perfect view of everything in the house. The living room where you spent the last hour day dreaming, the empty bedroom, both the front and back doors — everything. There is not an inch of this prison that is not able to be broadcasted to his phone. Even now, the way your body curls around the doorway is in frame, proving your guilty nosiness. 

“Huntin’ season soon, Bonnie,” he says, hands still working. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t need to. You’re already in his line of sight. 

There’s a faint, gruff chuckle that leaves his lips when you silently back away, slinking back into your burrow like the scared little rabbit you are. You want to retreat back to the window, to watch the world pass you by but it’s too close. It’s too close to Simon, and there are eyes in the walls. 

So you wander with your gaze trained above you, seeking out the glimpse of a camera lens as you try to calm your breath. You’ve been here for weeks and had never noticed such an intrusion. What has he seen you do? What has he watched happen to you? Has he seen it all? Every little thing Johnny’s done to you? How his favorite pet takes and takes and takes? Does he enjoy it when you’re undone? When you’re so used up you can’t even move? 

That’s why he looks at you the way he does — asks you questions he already knows the answers to. You feel your fists clench. What a foul, nasty, terrifying creature. A beast with too many eyes for his own good. You wish you could pluck them out with your fingers. 

“Bonnie?” 

Johnny’s voice stops you in the middle of the hallway. You’re not even sure why you’re there. Perhaps you were wanting to hide in the bedroom — cover yourself up in blankets as if you were a child and will away the scary man preparing for his hunt. But there’s something new; an unfamiliar door open, one you have never been quite brave enough to venture into. 

Treading carefully, you approach the door to find a strange room. Somehow, it’s quieter here than it is in the rest of the house, yet chaotically strewn about. Bookshelves hold art supplies on old boards, and a large cork board displays inky artwork. In the midst of it all is Johnny, who sits at a large cartography desk. He’s already looking up at the doorway before you enter, smirk pulling at his lips. 

“Ah knew it was ye. Yer feet are lighter than Simon's are,” he gloats. 

Blinking, you can’t help but tilt your head at his tone. He seems… different somehow. Relaxed. A pencil lazily sits in his hand, tip resting against paper. You venture a step into the room, and he doesn’t seem to object. In fact, he welcomes it as he gestures to the corner of the room on your right. 

“You’re welcome tae have a seat,” he offers. 

An oversized reclining chair sits nestled against the wall with fluffy padding. Its seat is sunken in — well loved and used — yet looks all the more comfortable for it. Confused, you narrow your eyes at Johnny as you take another cautious step toward him. 

“Are you drawing?” You don’t know why you ask. It’s obvious what he’s doing, and speaking to the man who uses your body against your will on a regular basis is the most degrading thing you’ve ever done. 

Still, it’s the first thing that’s felt normal since you were brought here. 

“A bit,” he concedes. “The stream looked nice today. Ah wanted tae draw it before ah forgot it. Ah like savin’ memories.” 

He turns the paper in your direction, and you can make out the image of it clear as day. Pristine water cascades over smooth stone in a tiny waterfall in the stream. You can see every ripple of water, the tufts of grass that kiss the bed, and the flowers that sway in their midst. It’s alarmingly beautiful coming from a man who has only ever brought you pain.

“It’s lovely,” you breathe. A proud smirk pulls at his lips as he brings the paper back in his view, and you swallow. “Do you… have trouble remembering things?” 

He shrugs. “Ah used tae, but nae much anymore. A’m all healed up now.” He says it flippantly as if it’s not a concerning thing to admit, all while tapping the side of his head. 

For the first time since you had the misfortune of meeting him, you look at Johnny. Really look at him. You see past the collar and the dumb glaze of his eyes and you catch on to the scars that litter his body. The tattoo on his arm — some sort of coat of arms — the graphite staining his fingers, the puffy scar that dissects his hair near his temple. There’s a stark difference between the ruggedness he holds and the one Simon holds — Johnny is softer, somehow. Better loved and cared for. 

Someone else is in control of your body; someone stupid. Your fingers float through the air as you reach for him, skin brushing against the overgrown mohawk of his hair and then tracing the scar. It’s blunt. Round. Somewhat hidden behind the thick dark hair on his head, but you feel the way it tugs and protrudes out of his skin. He sizes you up as you press against him, blinks, and then leans into your touch. 

“Were… were you hurt?” you ask through the tightening of your throat. 

When he nods in confirmation, your hand slips from his head, but Johnny catches it. It’s gentle. Loving. He holds you like that as he looks up at you through heavy lids. 

“What happened?” You need to stop. You need to shut up but the questions won’t stop pouring out of your mouth. No, you need to know more about them. Gather as much information as you can so when you finally get out of this hell hole, you’ll know exactly who to point at. 

Johnny moves your hand to his lips, pressing a fat kiss against your knuckles before rubbing it in with his thumb. “Ah had a bad day.” 

Once again his lips are on your hand, tender and soft, before he relinquishes it. The eraser of his pencil taps lightly against the wooden desk as his head quirks to the side, eyes clearing. “Go sit down, Bonnie.” 

Against your better judgment, you do. Something thick hangs in the air. A gnarly trepidation that you can’t shake, yet you sink into the recliner so easily that you nearly forget the discomfort. It’s easy to ignore the feeling of dread clawing at your chest when you’re busy searching the walls for eyes —

And you find it. A small, impossibly tiny hole angled near the far corner of the room. With that angle, it’s able to view nearly the entire room, save for the corner just under it where a bookshelf resides. A faint glint from the bedroom light illuminates the lens as if winking at you. Taunting and toying with you like the pet you are. Its reminder rings clear in your head, and you take care to engrave it in your mind as you glance back at Johnny. 

You’ve got to tread more careful than that, Bonnie.

[muzzledhoundsheart]

❧❧❧THE BEAST INSIDE YOUR WALLS❧

Pairing ❧ dark!Gwayne Hightower x (f)reader  

CW ❧ dubcon, blood, fingering (f), oral (m), p in v sex, m!dom, possible typos 

AN ❧ I hope you guys enjoy this one! I had a pretty hard time with deciding if I’m gonna post it or scrap it and work on it another time or completely rewrite it but I think it pulled itself together pretty well in the end. Also sorry for any typos of any kind, I edit everything myself and English is my second language so some stuff slips to the cracks real fast (always makes me want to die when I see it ahaha) 

Fog hung thick over the trees, weaving itself round the crowns, through every branch hanging like shawls. Or more like nooses, Gwayne thought to himself. Him and his men rode through the forrest for hours now, seemingly without an end in sight. At every corner they rounded they found the same scenery, all blurring into one. While he enjoyed the status of being a knight, the glitz and glam of tournaments, young ladies fawning over him and men respecting him. He hated days like these. The sweat in his armor running cold down his back, the uncomfortableness spreading further, seeping deep into his very bones. 

„I see a village there! “, one of his men shouts. Oh, thank the gods he thought. Finally, some rest. He just hopes to find a good meal, a warm bed and a pretty whore to end the day well with. He could see in his men that they were all thinking the same, or at least some variation of it. They were so close they could almost make out the houses now, when suddenly, a shrill scream echoed through the Forrest. The horses were on high alert and almost knocked their riders off. It wasn’t just a scream of fear, it ran much deeper. The men looked to Gwayne unsure of how to proceed. „Sounds like a fucking banshee.“, a shorter roundish man spat with a heavy drawl. „My father used to warn me about them screams in Forrests, they’re luring you in to skin you alive.“, another one said. „Oh horseshite it’s probably just a kid who ran off and now can’t find their way back, serves ´em little cunts right.“ What a troop of heroes, Gwayne thought to himself. 

He took a deep breath and stifled a sigh, „You go on, I shall see if the forrest nymphs truly are calling for me.“ He said with a boyish smirk adorning his lips. The men looked uneasy but accepted his order and started their journey anew. Just as Gwayne was about to turn around to ride deeper into the thicket again he heard another blood curdling scream. His brows furrowed and he gripped the reigns tighter, dashing towards the noise. The closer he seemed to get, the colder his sweat ran down his neck, his thoughts running rampant stringing together gruesome paintings of violence and agony. Another scream, and it sounded awfully close. He drew his sword and the muscles in his pale back pulled taught, shifting underneath his freckled skin and sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins. The sight before him was, however, not what he imagined. 

A young woman was desperately struggling to climb up a mangled tree, she gained some footage and pulled herself up another branch, pained grunts leaving her mouth and blood dripping from her arm and side — drip drip dripping down from the wounds running down to her naked toes. Beneath the tree stood two wolfs, blood and saliva dripping from their snouts, bubbling around the corners making them look rabid, hungry — starving. The wolves didn’t even care about the deafening noise the hooves of his humongous stallion made, no, they were set on her, having already had a taste of her sweet flesh, eager for more.

 Gwayne ceased the opportunity and aimed for one of the wolves, within a few strives he was close enough to slash the back of one of them, their head hanging on by what little sinew the sword didn’t quite reach. This, finally, caught the other wolf's attention and he growled at Gwayne, ready to tear into his horse, pull him off and rip him apart, piece by bloody piece. Gwayne was faster though, stabbing the wolf in it’s side on one swift motion, his sword cutting into the wolf like velvet, releasing a gut-wrenching whimper, the wolf folded into itself while blood spurted out of it’s wound and snout, until his eyes glossed over, and his labored breathing stopped. It was almost beautiful how such such a beastly being perishes so pathetically, he thought, almost forgetting about the woman still hanging desperately onto the rotting branches of the tree in front of him. „My Lady... I’m afraid the branch will break soon.“ 

It took some time for the woman to realize what just happened. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her chest heaving up and down heavily. Taking in her appearance, now being close enough to do so, Gwayne noticed how she was dressed, a white thin linen dress, almost looking like a nightgown, with nothing else covering her shivering form. Furthermore, the dress was ripped in multiple spots and her blood blossomed into the fabric, spreading like a visceral garden over her attire. She held her side with one hand and Gwayne noticed that her dress was ripped around her breast as well, it laid openly naked above the hand holding her side. What a lucky man Gwayne was. „Thank- thank you Ser. By the gods thank you.“ She breathed out, her voice sounding hoarse and rough. Gwayne dismantled his horse, hiding his almost perverse smile behind this mundane display.

 He approached the tree and held out his hand for her. Standing tall in front of it, he was sure the woman could reach him if she crouched down. „Let me help, my Lady.“ He said in the softest voice he could muster in this moment, his lips stretching into a friendly, warm smile. If only she knew. The woman was still apprehensive but did eventually crouch down and let him aid her in climbing back down. When she was on a brach low enough, Gwayne cupped the back of her knee and hauled her into his arms. She let out a surprised yelp and blinked up at him through thick lashes. The woman was caked in grime and blood, sweat clung to her body like second skin, but she was beautiful, nonetheless. 

„You’re all good now.“, he said, slowly lowering her to the ground while steadying her. Her hand went to her torn dress, trying to hold it up to hide her bareness. Before words could leave her mouth, he already unbuckled his cape and draped it around her shivering form. „What a predicament you were in ,my Lady. If you let me, I would take you to the nearest village to have a healer look at your wounds.“ He said not letting his gentle hold on her shoulders go. His fingertips slowly wandered up and down the familiar fabric in a soothing matter. „I would owe you my life, Ser.“, she haughtily breathed out.

 He was sure she’s lost enough blood to barely be conscious, especially now that the adrenaline is steadily leaving her body. His face contorted into a look of concern, „I might have to look at your wounds now and tend to them as best as I can. Forgive me but you’re looking awfully pale, my Lady.“ She let out an amused sound at that. „You might as well do it now, yes.“ she was swaying, on the cusp of fainting. Gwyane knelt down in front of her, slowly bunching up her skirt. The wound in her side wasn’t as bad as he initially thought, he got up again and assured the woman that he was only getting one of his satchels off his horse. He then proceeded to clean her wounds, dressing them in cloth and sending her assuring looks through his copper lashes. The woman felt like she was dreaming, being saved by such a beautiful kind man. 

He looked like a knight from a fairytale, his face was carved out of ivory, his eyes like the stormy waters that ran through the land and his copper hair falling around his cheekbones framing his pretty face. He got up again, wiping his hands on a cloth, discarding it after by dropping the bloodied cloth back into the satchel. „That should do it for now.“, he said. The woman was still dazed and looked at him as if he was a prince of the realm. „I cannot thank you enough.“ She expressed grasping tighter onto his cloak. „ Not to worry, my Lady, i have to wonder however you got yourself in this situation though.“. She looked flustered and diverted her eyes. „I was visiting my brother to take care of him, the cold got to him and i was afraid he wouldn’t make it out alive on his own. I thought taking the route through the forrest would get me home quicker, how foolish of me.“ 

Foolish indeed Gwayne thought to himself, stifling a grin. „I could offer you a bed for tonight as my thanks, Ser.“, her eyes lit up saying that, and Gwayne almost felt bad for how genuine she looked. It was rare to find someone seemingly believing in the simple kindness of man nowadays. He also wondered if she knew just what she implied with her statement, well he surely wouldn’t mind if that was what she was thinking of. Just the thought brought a shiver down his skin straight to his cock, it has been so long since he got to indulge himself after-all. „I would happily accept, my Lady“ he took her small shivering hand in his and brought it to his lips. She looked like she was about to faint again and before she started swaying, he decided to steady her with his arm around her waist. The woman stole many glances at him, and his breast swelled with pride — arrogance. He was sure he got kissed by Lady Luck tonight. 

He helped her mount his house and put her legs over his, one arm caging her in, so she „will be safe with him.“. They started trotting towards the small village nearby, her directions were surely helpful, making them arrive sooner than he anticipated.

They rode through a small marketplace coming across some of his men pointing him out to what seemed to be their bedwarmers for the night. Shouts of his heroism were heard, and the roundish man yelled „Not a banshee then ,aye?“. The woman then led him the way to a small hut. Nothing special really, made of wood and stone and mud. It looked solid — just — with greenery not only surrounding it but winding itself into every nook and cranny. They unmounted and she, still shaky on her feet, let him inside the small hut. 

His heavy boots stomped down on the creaky floor as he took his surroundings in; it was…homely. Certainly homely. A small kitchen met a big cozy bed draped in different fabrics and knit blankets. Books and various other items were strewn about, but it looked like it had a system at least. „You may take the bed and I will get you something to freshen up.“. Gwayne looked to her and swiftly grasped her wrist „I would rather claim my reward now, my Lady“. „I’m not sure what you mean.“ Her heartbeat quickened; she couldn’t have been so blind could she? He towered over her taking steps forward until both reached one of the wooden clad walls. She felt as if her flesh would freeze off, needles and pins spreading all over her body, her stomach in knots. „Remove my cloak“. All kindness vanished from his voice. She was staring at him, frozen in time. Cold cold cold fear encompassing her. „Now.“ he almost growled. 

Shaking hands reached up to open the claps, the thick fabric pooling around her still bare and bloodied feet. His eyes raked over her form, half naked and quivering before him. So delicious. His hand reached out to her, making her flinch away hard. This made his cock twitch, hard and wanting in his breeches. He moved quick and ripped the already torn dress to complete shreds. The cloth fell off her breasts entirely and he could almost make out her rapid heartbeat through her chest. The quick — thump thump thump — spurring him on even more. 

Gwayne’s hands found solace on her ribcage, his calloused thumbs slowly tracing the underline of her breasts, making her nipples pebble. The motion was almost soothing but her it felt like a predator seizing up his prey, installing fear in it and calculation their next move. She didn’t dare to breathe which he took note of — it made him chuckle. A deep rumble coming out of his chest. „I wont hurt you“. 

Liar.

She knew he would, they both did. His hands now cupping her breasts, clutching them tightly, pinching and pulling at her flesh. Small gasps left her mouth and she never felt more vulnerable than in this moment. He dipped his head to her level, copper strands kissing his cheekbones. His right hand followed her clavicles, up the tendons on her neck and settled on her throat. The pressure applied made her lightheaded. „Why don’t you sing my praises, huh, your great hero deserves more than this don’t you think?“ She wanted to bite that smug smirk off his face.

 It felt like he could sense what she thought, and he chose to attack first. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss. Gwayne’s tongue slipped into her mouth and he tasted every part of her. When they finally parted, her breaths were labored, chest heaving and saliva coated the bottom of her face, strings of it connecting them like a wet spider web. He kissed her again and again, growing more aggressive with each one, biting and pulling at her lips and tongue until she tasted the iron now coating their lips. She was ashamed of herself for how wet she’s gotten. Wetness slowly running down the inside of her thighs, as she felt how hard and wanting Gwayne has gotten himself. 

While Gwayne was biting and shucking at the juncture of her throat he ripped the last shreds of her gown hanging around her hips apart, leaving her completely exposed to his hungry eyes. Goosebumps littered her body as the cold air hit her skin, which was a welcome distraction from Gwayne’s searing touch, dipping lower and lower. He reached her mount and and slid a single finger between her folds. His lips breathed hot against her cheek „What a tight little cunt“, he moaned as he sunk his finger deep inside her. She wanted to run away, call for help and have him beheaded, but in this moment the coil winding itself in her stomach craved him to keep going, to do more. And do more he did. Another finger slipped into her — two long slender fingers stretching her tight wetness out in fluid motions. His paced steadily increased and he looked like he was about to rip her chest open with his teeth. Her breast heaving into his face and sweat slowly dripping into his face. He licked a long stripe up her artery and bit down, just hard enough to force a strangled groan out of her bruised lips. 

She was burning from the inside out from shame — it felt so delicious, being mauled alive. Just as she was about to completely lose herself in the pleasure, he withdrew his hand. „Get on your knees“, he commanded breathless and harsh. Her eyes refocused on him, and he sunk down, big, clouded eyes fixed on the flushed head of his cock. She didn’t even notice that he partially undressed himself. „Open“, he said as his thumb pressed down on her plump lower lip and hand wrapping around her throat again, much tighter this time. He ran the tip of his leaking cock along the edge if her teeth, finding great amusement in it. Even if she were to bite him, he could snuff her out in seconds. „Don’t tell me you don’t know what to do now, you’re definitely not a maiden,“ She was — but he didn’t need to know. She’s heard enough tales from friends and the brothel workers scurrying about the market when they found the time.

Light-headed form the lack of oxygen and limited in her movement she began running her tongue along his cock. Up and down the head, following a prominent vein slithering along the underside of it. Gwayne groaned and pulled her in by the throat. She sputtered around him, his cock reaching deep into her throat now. He left her no time to catch a breath, moving his hips in a fast irregular rhythm. „That’s it, take it“, he breathed out. His cock slipping in and out her mouth faster with every thrust. Spit dripped down his sack as cradled her head against his pelvis bone. Her eyes rolled up her skull and he swore he would have a corpse around his pulsating cock any minute now. Showing some mercy, he released her, and she gulped down deep breaths of air — coughing them right back out again. Her teary eyes looked longingly at his cock, bobbing and pulsating still, thick drops of precum dripping onto the hard wooden floor. Before she could do much of anything he leaned down and seized her by her claves. Pulling her, with her back on the floor now, closer to him. 

His hands pawed at her thighs and trapped fistfuls of plush fat for leverage. Her lower half hung in the air, and he had a full view of her creaming cunt. Gwayne halted for a short moment, asking himself if he wanted to taste her first, lick up the viscous fluids of her drooling cunt, dripping onto the floor. He discarded the idea and chose to position his cock at her entrance. In one harsh thrust he was inside of her, setting a brutal pace. The small hut was filled with wet slapping noises, moans and groans. Gwayne fucked her as if he intended on killing her. Her body like putty in his string hands and her cunt growing hotter and tighter around his swollen cock. He crouched down lower and threw one of her legs over his shoulder, rutting so deep into her she swore she would never be able to feel whole again without his cock in her. Her desperate whimpers turned into incoherent screams. They ran down deep into Gwayne’s bones and spurred him on as he felt his release coming. His final thrusts were brutal, kissing her cervix and bruising her pelvic bone in it’s wake. He grabbed her throat again and squeezed as his sack tightened and he released hot spurts of thick cum into her womb. They both stayed like this for many moments. He could still feel her walls convulsing around his softening cock, her soft hands laying atop his around her throat, wordlessly begging to release her. When he did, her body fell to the ground with a thud. Her legs still open, arms crossed above her head and her wounds weeping again. Sweat, blood and cum dripping out of her and mingling into a visceral painting of lust. Gwayne brushed his damp hair out of his face and slowly redressed. How he wished to paint the scene before him to take with him out on the battlefields. Alas — he grabbed his sword and pointed it down at her belly, slowly tracing a line up between her breasts and resting below her chin. „I don’t want any red-headed bastards running around, make sure to take care of it.“. „I-i will, don’t worry.“ He nodded curtly and threw her one last glance before leaving her hut. Her heart was still beating like a rabbit running away from a pack of wolves. She hoped the beast would trace her scent and find his way to her again soon.

[delirious-donna]

The Demon King & His Princess [Sebastian Michaelis]

an: I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for months and it’s time I had a clear out. This demon could tell me stories any night he wants…

pairing: Sebastian Michaelis (demon king AU) x female reader (princess)

warnings: nightmares, storytelling turned steamy, fantasy AU, smut, NSFW

Masterlist

The darkness was pure—heavy and suffocating. It wrapped like a noose around your slender throat and squeezed tighter and tighter. You couldn’t draw air, couldn’t struggle from the iron-tight hold.

You jolted upright. Fire burned in your lungs as if you had been suffocating in your sleep and you touched feverishly at your neck but felt nothing amiss. Disorientation made your head spin, eyes scanning back and forth in an attempt to make sense of your surroundings and what had happened.

In bed.

You could feel the mattress beneath your backside and legs, the heavy weight of a rich duvet covered your midriff. That was at least a comfort. If the only one you could find. The beat of your heart ached against your ribs. It hurt to take each shuddering breath as if you had broken the surface of icy waters. The air froze in your chest, and you clutched blindly at the sweat-dampened nightgown in desperation.

Your saviour was not far…

A presence at your side made you jump anew, but soon your shoulders sagged with relief as two familiar hands held you tight. The touch was cool and soothing. You let yourself be drawn into a strong body whilst you continued to tremble like the last autumn leaf.

Slowly, and with the utmost care, you were lowered back to the sheets. Soft-spoken words sounded distant, called over the crashing waves of your fear but as the seconds ticked on, they became clearer.

“Come back to me… can you hear me, little one? You are mine, come back.”

Sebastian.

It was Sebastian who pressed his face into your hair and whispered gentle yet firm words into your ear. It was he who wound his arms around your chest and lodged his body tightly against your back. His warmth chased away the shivering chill from your skin and the even beat of his heart that settled your own into a normal rhythm.

“Sebastian…”

“I’m right here,” he soothed in his low authoritative voice, barely above a whisper. Deft fingers stroked the apple of your cheek. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Your chin tucked low into your chest, a shy shame washing over you for goodness knows why. A nightmare was out of your control after all, so why try to deny it? Sebastian slid a finger between your chin, bringing your face back up to his. At last, you nodded slowly and averted your eyes.

“Want to talk about it?” He asked.

Whatever had caused such a blinding panic had already mostly melted away, the memories new fleeting and entirely disjointed. In honesty, you couldn’t quite recall the events of the dream, other than remembering the sensation of being choked of breath.

“I… can’t remember. I think I’d rather forget.”

You pressed your eyes shut, snuffing out the lone candle on the nightstand that illuminated the darkness of the bedroom. At heart you wished away the sense of lingering panic that beat just beneath the surface, threatening to surface at the smallest jolt.

The Demon King hummed a faint melody, a tune that seemed reminiscent of one you had heard many years prior.

His long dexterous fingers massaged at your skin through your silky nightdress, the midnight black fingernails a stark contrast against the pure white.

“Shall I tell you a tale? It might help you to… forget.”

In your disarray, you missed the faint trace of heat in his voice. Had you noticed, would your answer have been any different? Not likely. Be that as it may, you accepted his offer regardless and his smile was not merely comforting any longer—not that you could see it with your face tucked into his chest.

With a soft sigh, you rolled back your shoulders to better settle yourself into his protective embrace. The flicker of the candle painted long shadows upon the nearest wall, and you glanced up at your handsome beau without a trace of fear. His hair fell in a black curtain around his face, eyes closed as if at rest–although you knew better–and his smile had returned to docile.

“Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who loved to roam the lands her family ruled over. Her curiosity was mischievous and might have been considered reckless for she often wandered unaccompanied.”

Sebastian spoke in soft dulcet tones, and you wondered where this story was headed. It sounded rather familiar, intimately familiar…

“One day,” he continued, aware of your narrowed eyes aimed in his direction but ignoring it in favour of speaking calmly, slowly. “The princess came upon another person out in the forests near her home.

Yet, to her bewilderment he was not a person, but a Demon. She should have been scared, fearful of a creature she had been warned was wicked with only evil in their heart, but she wasn’t.”

He smiled indulgently. Reminiscing fondly at how brave you had been that day. In honesty, he would call it foolish, but luckily for you, this particular Demon was instantly enamoured with you.

“Instead, the sweet yet naïve princess befriended the Demon and soon they would spend hours traversing the lands with the Demon showing her places she didn’t even know existed. Sharing secrets that his kind would likely condemn him for brazenly putting his trust in the young mortal.”

Butterflies erupted in the depths of your stomach, flitting around in energetic bursts at the memory of those long-ago days. The hours that easily slipped into days, the warm sunshine on your face and the excitement of newly discovered secrets. You would forever be grateful for the trust Sebastian placed into the cradle of your hands, the knowledge he chose to share when you warned it might be frowned upon.

He pressed a kiss to your temple as if he sensed your gratitude. “It wasn’t long before an attraction grew between the pair, and in short, the Demon was besotted by the exquisite beauty of the princess and the purity of her heart and soul. At this realisation, he revealed himself as not simply a Demon, for he was the Demon King. A Demon King in love with a mortal princess.”

You squirmed against his strong body, heat warming your cheeks. Sebastian wouldn’t allow you to turn in his arms, tucking you further into his hold. He planted his hands on the soft curves of your waist whilst he continued to purr his story into your ear.

“Sebastian…”

He shushed you softly, his lips traversing the gentle slope of your shoulder to press a gentle kiss to your sweet-smelling neck. You could feel his smile against your skin, knowing and growing wider when your pulse began to race faster.

“The Demon King rejoiced in the knowledge that his attraction and love were returned in equal measure, and the night he first took her to his bed was a night he would never forget… Not in all his long years of existence had a night so special occurred and might never again.”

You could only moan, the sound long and drawn out when his hands roamed your plush curves. One palm stroked up and down your side until the fairly modest hem of your nightgown was drawn high enough that his fingertips could ghost lazy patterns on your skin.

The other cupped your breasts lightly through the shimmery fabric, his warm breath caressing and causing you to shiver deliciously from his attention. These shivers were different to the ones caused by your earlier nightmare—now long forgotten. They tingled pleasantly and led to a growing wetness between your clenched thighs.

“The princess was supple beneath his touch and reciprocating to his actions. Despite the power he wielded, the Demon was gentle in his exploration. He whispered of the naughty deeds he wished to enact, and of how he desperately wanted to open her up like a blooming flower to bathe in her arousal. When his touch reached her most intimate area, the Demon King had growled aloud, finding her wet and wanting. His restraint tested in a way he hadn’t experienced to date.”

Sebastian’s melodious words mirrored his actions to perfection. A low growl that sounded like distant thunder echoed within his chest, and you gasped—thrilled. One bold finger swiped over the seat of your cotton panties and found how your lust had soaked it through.

Your eyelids fluttered shut, hips undulating eagerly. Waiting… wanting… just like the princess.

You reached out an arm, blindly searching behind and finally sinking your hand into his long lustrous hair. You played with the strands, tugging them impishly until your fingers delved deeper so your nails could scratch against his scalp.

“His cock had throbbed for the princess, straining against his undergarments and desperate to find solace in her tempting heat. Of course, he had to ensure she was properly prepared for such an intrusion,” he whispered, pausing for a moment to tug on your earlobe with his teeth.

His hips drove upwards, making you painfully aware of how hard and ready he was right now, never mind in the story. A dark chuckle floated to your ear; the amusement halted the subtle glide of your lower half, but it was only a moment until he guided your hips back into a slow rhythm against his clothed cock.

“The Demon King had ripped through the princess’s panties to her shrieks of surprise, for surely she had not known the strength of the male she had allowed to touch and taste her virgin body.” You groaned in memory. How nervous you had been, but so very ready, almost desperate.

“Her breasts were perfection, filling his palms exactly. With pebbled nipples so sensitive to the fingers that played with them, rolling the delicate buds between finger and thumb before tasting them in turn. A firm hand supported her spine which she arched to press herself further into his greedy mouth. The suckling sensation made her dizzy and mewl like a cat in heat. He turned her skin sticky and shiny with his spit, biting and nipping at such tender flesh until the princess tugged boldly on his mane of hair.”

Your fingers twitched in mischievous want to fist his silken black hair, to haul his sinful lips to yours and silence the story in favour of creating a new one. “The lovers spent an age exploring their bodies, learning what made them moan and what caused their toes to curl in delight. When it was time to taste her sweetness, the Demon King felt like a youngster again, worried he might come undone before he could take her fully. Never had he seen a pussy so pretty and perfect–made for him alone.”

On these words, Licht finally rolled you to your back and let your lips unite. The yearning between you was palpable, your fingers grasping and clutching at his strong shoulders until you were twisted like ivy around his lithe frame.

The brush of his cock–still concealed behind his pyjama trousers–against your bare slit was electrifying. The ripped cotton from where his finger had pushed through the fabric clung to your slickness, and you did indeed rub on him like a cat in heat.

Sebastian worked his hand between your bodies, spreading your open and smearing the sticky strands of your arousal over your skin until he was toying with your jittering little clit. His mouth was hungry slanted atop yours, devouring and commanding the space you shared.

You weren’t quite the shy little flower he described in the story; experience had strengthened your resolve and bolstered your confidence. Enough so that you sucked his bottom lip between your own, drawing the skin taut before releasing it with an audible pop. He growled low in his throat, admiring your shuttered eyelids and smug little smile.

Gods, how you wanted him, but he broke away, much to your frustration, to continue his story. A slow methodical finger circled your soaked cunt, grinning when you clenched around nothing but air.

“The enamoured Demon softly stroked over the princess’s unsullied silky folds, so pretty and engorged from the pumping blood of her desire. Slick rushed to meet his fingers and he couldn’t resist sucking one into his mouth for a taste. With that, he was addicted. He knew that he would never get enough.”

Sebastian held back a moan as he spoke the words. He could feel the weight of them, the truth that lay behind each syllable. To this day, he wasn’t certain you understood the magnitude of his love. He was a creature who most believed incapable of loving anyone but themselves, but he could find no other way to describe how he felt about you.

“Please…”

Eyes of regal burgundy flashed in the dark room and it shook a breathy whine from your throat. On a slow thrust, two fingers slide inside to stroke your velvet walls. His honeyed voice deepened, one forearm braced directly next to your head whilst a knee spread your legs further apart and his fingers fucked you with strokes that quickened hastily. Sebastian was losing control and that tightened the desire in your belly all the more.

“Mm, that’s it. You’re sucking me in, can you feel that? Such a greedy pussy, you want something other than my fingers, beloved?” he asked with a smirk.

You rolled your neck against the fluffy pillows, sinking deeper and deeper into decadent pleasure. “Mhm, please,” you admitted, biting deep into your bottom lip.

“The Demon King brought the beautiful princess to orgasm using only his mouth and dexterous fingers. Stretching out her tight walls in readiness for his throbbing cock. How he had hissed when she had tentatively touched it, dainty fingers encircling the girth and giving an exploratory pump with her fist.”

As he narrated, you complied with the words and reached down to free him from the confines of his sleepwear. Your thumb swiped through the beads of arousal and used it to coat his shaft.

Sebastian was heavy in your hold, a groan echoing from the depths of his chest. “Do–do you remember how the story ended?” he asked, thrusting into your grip at the same pace he thrust his slick-soaked fingers into your pussy.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you managed, sounding far more composed than you actually felt, “But I’m certain that the devastatingly handsome Demon King–you missed that part out–made love to the princess until the sun broke over the horizon.”

With ease, Sebastian withdrew his fingers and sucked them into his mouth until they were clean. His weeping cockhead notched at your entrance and your hips strained to force him inside.

“Mm, indeed. Let’s reenact that part, shall we?”

His pelvis met yours in one forceful push. Your spine bowed off the mattress when his head dipped to suckle on your pert nipples through the taut satin of your gown.

Your eyes roamed his handsome face, his expression veiled as it often was, but it slipped when your legs wound his lean waist to push him even deeper. The mask dropped to expose the control he was struggling to hold on to. The Demon King was leashed to your hand, a power he had never given to anyone else in his centuries of existence. He was yours as much as you were his.

Sebastian remained true to his word; he worshipped you exactly as he had on your very first time together. Nothing could truly portray what had transpired on that fateful night, the unity and promises made, but it still brought tears to your eyes to be reminded. Your Demon lover stole the air from your lungs, the sanity from your mind and the love from your heart.

From that night forward, you made a conscious effort to ask for more bedtime stories and not only on the occasions you had nightmares.

What wicked words could fall from the prettiest of lips…

[cravetive]

𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 | ℂℍ. 𝟡

| 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐮: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.

| 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

| 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬), 𝐬𝐞���� ( 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 & 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

| 𝐀/𝐍: 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧...𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

previous chapters

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There are 3 stages in how the body responds to stress: the first of them being the alarmed stage. the central nervous system is awakened, causing adrenaline to pump into the veins, forcing the body to secrete cortisol but some just like to call this fight or flight. Jungkook can feel the rush as he steps down the corridor, his fingers trembling against the Glock gripped inside his hand, his mouth and nose dripping crimson while his mind resides on the image of you, his legs dragging against the carpet underneath him.

 the air turns dense around him and no matter how much he tries to breathe, there just isn’t  sufficient oxygen that can ease the pressure forming between his ribs. his fingers crawl to his neck to loosen the tie that remains pressed against his carotid artery but there isn’t a button he can pop, not a lace he can undue that can erase the image of you pointing a semi-automatic pistol to his head. 

The red tie grips his throat, forming into a noose that asphyxiates him.

He couldn’t sense a gleamer of hesitation in your eyes, not a tremble in your voice as you stood in front of him, finger on the trigger ready to blow his brains out. the memory causes his skin to crawl, a nauseating feeling brewing in his abdomen as he struggles to catch his next breath.

Jungkook recognizes the uneasiness that has taken over his blood stream, the strain it causes on his brain. It had only ever happened once before, after his first murder. The memory arrives unwarranted and as his limbs grow limp with each step he takes, he now imagines himself on the floor, eyes staring empty into nothingness just like the first man he ever killed.

He is rotting inside, his darkest insecurities eating away at his decaying mind, and you hadn’t even pulled the trigger.

Jungkook throws himself against the wall, huffing as he wipes away at the beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead. He’s terrified, his skin running cold but his head burning hot as he tries to collect himself. His eyes sting from the lights above his head and no matter how much he tries to focus, everything around him becomes blurred. He has faced many enemies before, cruel and malicious. The kind of enemies that horror films are written of, blood thirsty and repugnant but they had never mustered to instill fear in him the way you have today.

Perhaps it’s because he has nothing, he can offer you in exchange for his life. after all its his life that you want to take.

You had been a ticking bomb, a disaster waiting to happen and there was nothing he had done to save himself all while he witnessed your hunger from far away, too consumed in his own ego to believe that you would be capable of doing any of this, too reassured in your weakness, quick to disregard your indignation. When he looked into your eyes now, he found emptiness, rid of all hope and desires, things that he himself had ripped away from you and he crumbles under the culpability. All the things he had tried to prevent becoming all the things he has caused.

Jungkook winces as his tongue trails over the swollen corner of his lip, blood pooling inside of his mouth with the bitter reminder of what has transpired and the worst part of all is that he can’t even blame you, couldn’t point a finger at the person whose caused him harm. not when he knows all of this is your retribution, not when he knows that he would’ve done the same. He has been defeated, humiliated and the only person he can point his gun at this time is himself.

panic pumps into him relentlessly and he can only open his mouth to scream, his voice ragged as he yells into the empty corridor, pouring his frustration into the 2 walls that reflect his screams back to him and yet it doesn’t suffice, it doesn’t remedy the pressure building inside of him. his mind can’t comprehend that he needs to surrender and instead he lets vexation takes its place. The feeling is unnerving, and it leaves him spent, the walls caving in on him as he stands there in desperation.

“Jungkook!” a voice calls inside of his mind, faint and distant and he shuts his eyes tightly, trying to bring himself out of the conflict raging in his mind and then he hears the voice once again, much closer this time, startling him out of his frenzied state. he snaps his eyes open and raises his gaze, his eyes meeting Taehyung’s as he races down the corridor. He lets out a heavy sigh, head pounding painfully whilst he wipes away at the blood that drips down his chin.

 “Where the fuck have you been? Theres reporters everywhere!” Taehyung pants, stopping a few inches away from his disheveled friend, his frantic eyes scanning Jungkook’s troubled expression.

“Where's Y/n?” Taehyung asks, peering over Jungkook’s shoulder at the open door behind him but he’s met with silence.

Taehyung drags his eyes back to Jungkook finally noticing the blood on his white shirt and his glassy eyes that glow red under the dim lights. Jungkook can’t bring himself to respond, to admit that you were gone was to admit that he had lost. his chin quivers as he brushes past Taehyung, his movements slow as he tries to find his balance. Taehyung looks down at the gun in his hand, held so tightly it turns Jungkook’s knuckles white.

“Give it to me,” Taehyung sighs, stepping in front of Jungkook and wrapping his hand over it, causing Jungkook to jolt in response.

“Taehyung” Jungkook growls a warning, his eyes glaring into Taehyung with utter rage.

“I understand Jungkook '' Taehyung responds, the gravity of the situation weighing down on him as he realizes that you are gone and what that implicates. “But there’s also 50 cameras out there waiting to snap a picture of you leaving this building, this is not the right time for any of this.” 

“Do you think I give a fuck about the tabloids right now? I COULD FUCKING CARE LESS”

Jungkook’s voice causes Taehyung to step back, his stare faltering as he lowers his head in submission. Taehyung knows Jungkook to be a patient man, the rational one of the lots but he has also borne witness to the mess he can make when he is tested, of emotions that have been contained inside unleashing in the most vile ways.

Taehyung watches as Jungkook stumbles away, his steps uncoordinated and he knows he’s not in the right mental space, it’s painful to witness and he grimaces at the sight.

“Your father is looking for you” Taehyung calls out, his last attempt of snapping Jungkook out of the state he’s currently in and Jungkook stops, his steps pausing as he slowly turns to look at Taehyung. he sighs deeply and releases the grip on the gun, his eyes fluttering closed at the reminder.

He hadn’t even thought about his father, of the way he must be coming apart at the ignominy you have put him through. Unlike Jungkook, his father is far too proud to blame himself for his faults, for the role he’s played in his own downfall and now there was no reputation that held him back, this version of his father would be someone Jungkook has never faced before.

He lays the gun in Taehyung’s hand and walks past him, taking constricted steps as he heads to see his father. His stomach turns with anticipation, he was no stranger to his father’s wrath, the manner in which he assured that everyone could feel his grievances. Too many times he had been at the receiving end of it, starved for saying the wrong things, cane slammed on his back repeatedly when he did something that his father disapproved of. He would like to say he was stronger now, but his skin still held the scars, his brain conditioned to the assaults.

“Thank you” Jungkook mutters on the phone, his expression withdrawn as he ends the call and slips the phone back into the pocket of his suit. He runs his hand through his hair, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips, indication of his drained mind.

Taehyung glances over at him and then lowers his head to the cameras that flash outside of the car windows from the reporters who have remained, seeking answers that neither Jungkook nor Taehyung have. By tonight their faces will be plastered in every media outlet, each one of them jumping to their own conclusion of what kind of people they are but Jungkook can't even begin to concern himself with that matter, his mind preoccupied with the topic of you. 

“She's not home, is she?” Taehyung asks but going off the expression Jungkook wears on his face, that of defeat and utter weariness, he concludes his answer. 

“I didn't expect her to be” Jungkook hums, eyes concentrating on the lights of the city as the car pulls away from the media frenzy outside. Jungkook can't help blaming himself for the events that have transpired because ultimately there’s no one else he can, he had his reasons even if he's never felt compelled to share them with anyone else but not even those justifications can mend what has been done.

Taehyung sighs, studying his friend who sits slumped in the car and he expects Jungkook to react. Anticipating a fit of rage. a shout, a punch, something to release the torment that he knows ripples through him, but it never comes, and that in itself scares Taehyung far more.  

“Are you going to go find her?”  he follows up and in another time the answer would be clear for Jungkook, he has never been shy regarding his need to track you down, always determined to find a way to see you. yet, he knows he's caused irreversible damage with his intentions.

this time he feels no desire to be intrusive.

In his delusion of protection, he had drifted you apart, pushing you to form into the very person he wanted to prevent you from becoming and looking into the eyes of the girl that he yearned to save from the world  all whilst shredding her to pieces never left his mind at ease, looking into the eyes of the girl he dreamed of in his darkest hours while she held him at gunpoint didn't either.

Even if you didn’t remember, the both of you had known each other for a long time now, before the wedding and theatrics, before the parties and the thrills, he could never forget the first time he laid eyes on you. you were pure, sunlight beaming amidst that immorality that entrapped him, you stood out above all the things cruel and vicious, and he had sworn you would be his in every kind of way.

It just never occurred to him that it would be like this.  

“Do you love her?” Taehyung continues and Jungkook glances down at his blood-stained shirt, traces of the sentiment you had of him. He’s not sure if that is the correct word to describe how he feels about you. all he knows is that his skin tenses when he’s around you, sometimes forgetting how to breathe when he sees you enter a room, your scent being the only thing he can remember for days after. It wasn’t in his intentions for things to get so out of hand, but when it comes to you he loses all rationale, his impulsions turning out to be his worst enemy.

He hadn't seen you in years when he heard you would be married off to the Greco family over a year ago, a vile and ruthless family. he had wanted to say it came as a surprise but your father being the notorious money hungry bastard he had come to know, would sell you off to anyone if money was on the table and Jungkook wasn’t shocked in the slightest either when word came around of the 80 billion won offered in exchange for your hand in marriage. It didn't matter if you loved that man or not, it didn't matter that you were smart and coveted, deserving of a man who could love you organically. To your father you were property, and he would sell you to the highest bidder. 

And so that's what Jungkook became. 

“I wouldn't know” Jungkook shrugs, looking away from Taehyung, an uneasy feeling settling inside of him. Jungkook rarely ever expressed himself, harboring his deepest emotions inside until they ripped at the seams, and it served no surprise that even now he couldn’t put a name to what he feels.

He just knows he needs you, in the sickest kind of way.

“I mean i wouldn't drop 98 billion won on someone i don't love but that’s me personally” Taehyung rebuts and sometimes Jungkook really hates how quick-witted Taehyung is, always speaking the truth, unable to read a room to save his life. 

“And then fuck it up by avoiding her and cheating and all the other crazy shit you were doing.” 

“I didn’t cheat” Jungkook clarifies, his jaw locking at the accusation. 

“Huh?” Taehyung asks, brows furrowed as he stares Jungkook down. 

“I know you must’ve probably hit your head pretty hard back there but I know you didn’t forget about Marisa in Ibiza, sunny in Tokyo, Nora from London” Taehyung pauses, noticing the way Jungkook squeezes his fists and avoids his eyes “I mean I can go on, the girls from the country club?.”

 Taehyung doesn’t intend to make Jungkook feel worse about the situation, he’s probably gone through enough for one night, but Taehyung is aware that for some time his friend has lost touch with reason and due to his lack of thinking he’s set in motion a domino effect in which everyone will be trampled, including himself and He fails to conceal the irritation in his voice as he questions Jungkook.

“I fabricated those rumors” Jungkook mutters carelessly, foot taping anxiously as he counts down the minutes until he meets with his father.

“You what?” Taehyung can’t process what Jungkook has said and quite frankly he even considers taking him to a hospital, he wasn’t making any sense and that only further frustrates him. nothing about this had ever made sense to Taehyung. Looking back on the events that took place a year ago he’s unable to understand the turn Jungkook’s life had taken, one day he’s Jungkook son of a criminal tycoon and then the next he’s marrying a girl he’s never even met before.

It was as if he was watching a drama and he had lost the plot.

“I made it all up alright? I paid those girls to go around and say they had sex with me, that way I could have Y/n and distance her all at the same time” Jungkook’s heart pounds in his chest, fists held tight against his lap “ I married her so that she wouldn’t have to marry some sick bastard who would use her for parts and then throw her away like a piece of trash” Jungkook snaps, veins standing from his neck and his face beat red as he finally allows himself to express the insatiable bitterness inside of him.

“if I showed how much I cared, my father would only use her against me, hold it over my head, I know my father, I know the monster whose raised me.”

“You do understand how utterly insane that sounds right?” Taehyung asks, eyes widened as he tries to make sense of the entire situation.

The air falls silent and Taehyung fidgets with his fingers as his brain tumbles with questions and judgements he avoids passing out loud to avoid getting punched in the face and He wishes he had never asked anything to begin with. now he has more questions than answers, glancing over at his friend as if he was sitting next to a psychopath.  

“ I purposely ignored her, I isolated her to those who would try to harm her as a means to harm me and I’d have her followed, ensuring she was always safe” Jungkook sighs, his heart feeling like a ton of bricks, he throws his head back recognizing that he has gone about everything the wrong way and he wants nothing more to turn back time if it could save you and him for the crossroads you both stand in now.

Yet, ultimately he concludes that it was his only choice either way.

“Was it the best decision? No, I know that now” Jungkook speaks with a remorse in his tone, pinching the bridge of his nose as the cars comes to a full stop Infront of his father’s estate.

“But she tried” he breaths, glancing over at Taehyung, despair in his eyes.

“she learned what I liked, she would wait for me at home with home-cooked meals and she would try to hold me, to show me warmth and though I wanted nothing more than to give in” Jungkook pauses, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips and he can’t find the words to explain the turmoil he’s being dealing with and he regrets even having attempted to.

“I made it all up” he repeats, teeth clawing at his bottom lip.

Taehyung releases the breath that he has been holding since the beginning of the conversation and he reaches to pat his friend on the shoulder, still not able to piece the trajectory of his friend’s explanation in his head but opting not to ask any further questions. Jungkook has never been the kind of man to open up and Taehyung doesn’t know how to deal with it, he can’t construct any words that would bring his friend ease.

“I think you should’ve told her the truth” Taehyung confesses what he has been thinking all this time.  

“She wouldn’t have understood, she would’ve looked at me in the same way you do now” Jungkook points out and Taehyung looks away, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I just wanted to save her, to remove her out of the situation her family was putting her in.”

“You know I love you man but there’s no use in playing the victim, Y/n never asked you to do that and now, she hates you for it.” Taehyung states and though his words cause Jungkook dread he knows them to be true.

“i never intended to become her enemy” Jungkook whispers, reflecting over all the times he caused you pain under the guise of keeping you safe, thinking it’s what would be best for you.

“fuck, if you treated me like that you’d be my enemy too” Taehyung responds.

Jungkook braces himself, hand lingering on the doorknob for a second too long before he feels the presence of Taehyung standing next to him, hand gripping his shoulder. He looks up at the wooden door, his mind racing with thoughts that can’t save him from the confrontation he is about to face. He can hear his father’s voice flowing past the walls, a threatened man who now seeks out someone to blame. He twists the doorknob in his hands and pushes the door open, remaining at the entrance with his eyes trained on the scene in front of him.

“You!” his father snaps his head, noticing his son who now stands there, eyes widened, and hands bloodied as his beaten assistant bows before him. Jungkook can feel the hair stand on the back of his neck, can feel himself shriveling back to the 12-year-old boy who hid behind his mother’s skirt when his father would come home under the influence of angered haze, reeking of death and cheap perfume.

His father is nefarious, a man that would stop at nothing to get what he wants and what causes Jungkook fear is not that he stands before him now, it’s the fact that now what his father wants the most is you.

“you good for nothing son of a bitch!” his voice makes the body guards that surround him flinch but Jungkook stands firm, stare unwavering as he witnesses yet another one of his father’s tantrum, his are steps slow and controlled as he walks inside, completely unphased. There's not a morsel of energy left in his body to care, to react to his father’s abuse.

 Mr. Jeon has been humiliated, the mask in which he paraded himself in snatched right from his face, his worst crimes exposed for everyone to see and Jungkook struggles to fight of the urge to smile, even if his own mask has fallen too.

“Please leave us alone” Jungkook requests and he watches as his father’s assistance struggles to stand up, blood dripping from his face as he uses his hands and feet to rise from the ground. Jungkook’s eyes remain on him, a story he’s lived many times replaying in his mind as he waits for everyone to disappear through the door and then his father’s assistant bows, an apology falling from his mouth and Jungkook looks away, unable to see his own reflection any longer.

Jungkook has seen the extent of what the notion of loyalty will do to a person yet his withers with each minute he spends inside this room.

“were the fuck is she?!” his father’s voice slams into Jungkook’s stiff stance but he remains silent, head leaned to the side as he inspects the broken glass on his father’s hands, the  paintings ripped from the walls, and the books that remain scattered along the floor.

“Could you not keep Y/n tame?” Jungkook glares up at his father, his cold demeanor faltering as your name slips out of his mouth, It sounds perverse coming from him, enticing Jungkook to grow repulsed.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word while his father approaches him, fuming and foaming at the mouth. Yet, this no longer makes Jungkook flinch in the way it has in the past, he was standing his ground in a way he had never been able to before, now he had something else to protect besides himself, his father’s intimidation tactics would no longer serve their purpose.

“I knew I would regret picking you up from that bloodied floor, I should’ve let you watch your parents rot in front of you” Mr. Jeon screams with angered eyes, a clock ticking inside of Jungkook’s head the further his father continues to spew out venom, his eyes briefly fluttering shut as he lets it spread into his veins.

Then there’s that reminder, the reminder that that’s all Jungkook is to him, a deal gone wrong, both parents dead and an orphaned boy willing to find love wherever it was given but Jungkook did not know whose hand he would come to hold at the ripe of 6, didn’t know who he would have to stand next to for the rest of his life, bound to a man who murdered his parents for survival.

Mr. Jeon has turned Jungkook into his mere image, what he didn’t have in blood he had made up for it with the blood of others.

 “Look at me boy” Mr. Jeon barks, gripping Jungkook’s face with so much force, his fingers turn white. Jungkook complies, heavy eyes looking into that of the man he had considered a father, of the man who he bowed down to even when his knees resisted.

“you look at me when I speak, You owe me your life, don’t you ever forget that” Mr. Jeon seethes, his hand rising in the air before it slams right across Jungkook’s face, imprinted on his cheek the only love his father can show, the only kind of love he thought that mattered before he met you.

“I only hit you because I love you.”

“I only hit you because I want you to be better.”

“I only hit you because you don’t listen.”

Jungkook turns his face, and he wishes that he can erase the pain in his eyes, wanting to prove his father no longer has control but instead he lowers his head, and he doesn’t protest out of gratitude for his life.

“I thought you were my son, but you are just another poor and filthy rat that I thought I could give home training to, it makes me sick” Mr. Jeon’s words cut deep but Jungkook does not budge, does not scream, hides under his disguise of carelessness in order demonstrate he’s the man that Mr. Jeon has raised.

“a year ago, you come to me begging for this girl’s hand in marriage and I give in because you are my child” Mr. Jeon’s eyes are stern, glaring into his son as if ready to tear him into pieces. “I offer 98 billion won for her and then she make a joke out of it?” Mr. Jeon’s eyes twist in disgust.

“At my fucking expense!” his voice crawls through the walls, echoes pouring out of the closed door and into the corridor in which Taehyung stands, eyes firmly set on the wall in front of him, hands tightened into fists.

“Have I not repaid my debt?” Jungkook finally snaps, a fuse burning inside of him as he allows himself to speak, his voice a mere whisper “Have I not tripled that since the day of my marriage?”

Mr. jeon chuckles coldly, his eyes narrowing on the man who now stands before him, no longer a wailing child yet someone he only views as an object of his own property, his eyes reflect disdain, his mouth going sour as he steps closer to Jungkook.

“There is nothing you can give to me that can repay what I’ve done for you” Mr. Jeon snarls and Jungkook can’t repress the way his stomach lurches as a response, a faint need to throw up forming inside of him. he’s a puppet, a slave and he almost chuckles for thinking he was ever anything else.

they stare at each other in silence, Jungkook feels the rage pooling in the pit of his stomach, the slap his father has delivered burning the skin on his cheek and he wishes that he could lurch forward and clasp his hands around his father’s throat, to release himself from the chains imposed on him from such an early age but he can’t bring himself to do anything else but to take, as he has always done.

Mr. Jeon can see the hate building inside Jungkook’s eyes, forming and spreading the longer they stand there and before his own eyes falter, he looks away and takes a step back.

“Fix this!” his father’s screams.

 “Find her and bring her to me!” he commands and without another word, Jungkook turns. He will find you before his father can, he has caused all of this and now he must protect you at all costs, even if he must go against the very person who has kept him alive all these years. While you strategized wars against him, Jungkook would be reaching to defend you.

And this time he does not bow before his father.

Jungkook brushes past the bodies pressed together on the dance floor, the weight on his waist reminding him of the gun he keeps strapped there for protection. He has just stepped into a lion’s den, a place far out of his territory with 6 of his men standing tall behind him as the fluorescent lights of the night club blind him. His feet move knowingly, following the path he has taken many times before but tonight he has another purpose for his visit, a itch that leads him blind.

Its probably not the best idea for him to be here, not while his brain struggles to form a coherent thought, but he’s grown illogical and no matter how much Taehyung tries to reason with him he can’t stop picturing you when he closes his eyes, growing exhausted with the thought of not having you within reach.

He’s concludes that he misses you, but Taehyung argues that he can’t miss something that has never belonged to him.

For the last 2 weeks he’s gone restless in the search for you, inquiring high and low for a trail he can follow and he’s never been the kind of man that takes no for an answer anyways, he doesn’t make habits out of losing. Its what has led him here tonight, regardless of the danger.

Jungkook hadn’t been himself since that night, letting his anger control his every decision, losing his sanity as he sat in the empty house you had abandoned, pondering over the fact that he no longer had you and he had made it everyone’s problem. There wasn’t a place that had witnessed your presence that would remain untorn, not a person he wouldn’t beat to a pulp for information on your whereabouts and though his tactics were questionable, there isn’t anything that can bring him back. his fixation alone fueling his exhausting search.  

You took up all the spaces in his mind, crowding his senses with guilt and regret. There wasn’t even a corner for concern for his family’s company that had been suffering since your little presentation, shareholders retracting their support while their profits crumbled all while his father tried to repair his reputation with speeches filled with lies and deception, still trying to keep his position as governor.

Like a real politician.

He fills up with irritation as the music thumps into his ears, disrupting his train of thought that now hangs by a thread, thin and snapping lose with each night he spends awake. there’s nothing left of the calm and collected man that everyone has come to know. His resolve unwavering, his determination almost animalistic. 

Jungkook’s steps halt Infront of the staircase and in his way stands a man with all black attire, arms folded over his chest as he eyes Jungkook and his men, he plays with the toothpick nestled between his teeth and leans his head slightly, eyebrow raised.

“I’m here to see your boss” Jungkook states, annoyance rolling from his tongue as he stares the man down.

“Do you have an appointment?” the man responds, inspecting Jungkook from head to toe with a smirk dancing on his lip. Jungkook leans his head back, rolling his neck as frustration begins to build inside of him, his hand slightly gracing his waist band, growing tired of the obstacle that stands in between him and the man he has come here to see.

“Do you know who you’re speaking to?” Taehyung barks over the music, the tension brewing between the group and the man who stands in their way. Taehyung takes a step closer, his own hand gripping the side of his suit jacket where his own gun resides.

“I’m well aware of who you are” the man speaks matter of factly, showcasing a smug smile on his lips.

Jungkook looks into the man’s eyes, rage flashing through them as he takes a step closer too. Patience hasn’t accompanied him in a long time and the ticking clock inside of his mind grows louder the longer this man tests him. Jungkook no longer sees an issue with causing a scene, does not see a problem with putting a bullet into the skull of someone’s son, his reputation is gone anyways and he’s very inclined to prove all those news articles right. He curls his fingers against the black metal pressed to his waist, already smelling the nitroglycerin in the air.

“Move or the next thing you will have an appointment to is the purgatory.”

if he was being honest, he’s been drooling at the thought of bringing his toy out to play since he entered the tacky night club and the thought of being able to use it causes him thrill. A small smile forms on Jungkook’s face, a predatory stare crawling through his eyes.

Tick

Tick

Tick

“Let him through” another man calls from above the stairs and the man in front of him chuckles confidently whilst removing the toothpick from his mouth and taking a step to the side. Jungkook’s eyes never leave him as he begins to climb the stairs and he almost feels disappointed as he pushes the gun back in its place.

Jungkook can feel the eyes of his men watching as he disappears through the corridor, all standing at attention, ready to attack if the order is given. his feet march forward, his eyes now fixed on the door at the end of the long corridor that becomes closer with each heavy step that he takes, the rage he harbors beginning to rise from his fingertips. He yanks at the doorknob and throws the door open, his eyes landing on his target.

“Jungkook!” Yoongi raises his head from the various documents on his desk and smiles wickedly “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jungkook does not return Yoongi’s excitement as he watches him from where he stands, his expression contorting with disgust. Yoongi remains seated, a grim smile remaining on his lips as he notices the glare in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Save me the fucking theatrics Yoongi, where the fuck is my wife?” Jungkook barks, heart pounding rapidly inside of his chest as adrenaline overpowers his every cell.

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing as he studies Jungkook. He can perceive something has changed in him, a shift in his demeanor that he can’t quiet put his finger on and a sudden thrill takes over him as it clicks inside his mind. Yoongi rises from his seat, his steps slow and dragged as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and comes to stand Infront of Jungkook, toying with the man’s patience.

“wifeee” Yoongi sounds out, dragging the word out in his mouth, chuckling lowly as he taunts Jungkook. “You don’t struggle with that label like she does” he roams his eyes around the room, aware of the piercing glare that Jungkook provides him in exchange.

“interesting” he hums, lowering his head casually whilst his lips display a menacing smile.

“didn’t make you out to be a marriage counselor, Min” Jungkook retorts, rolling his eyes in vexation.

Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back in amusement as he leans against his desk.

“I also didn’t think your thirst for vengeance would lead you to prey on someone innocent” Jungkook adds, emphasizing the last word.

Yoongi scoffs, focusing his eyes back on Jungkook.

“Innocent?” Yoongi asks, his expression pooled with amusement “was your little 1 on 1 with Y/n not enough for you to stop disregarding her potential? It’s in her blood you know, She’s just as much a killer as you and I” Yoongi shrugs.

Jungkook tenses, his anger brewing stronger the longer Yoongi stares at him with merriment. Of course, that bastard would enjoy this, anything that would fulfil his desire to see Jungkook in shambles, even if it meant destroying everything in his path including you but Jungkook would never allow him to twist you in his venomous root, regardless of how entangled you already are.  

“Y/n might be resilient but she’s not a killer, she doesn’t deserve to go down this path and you know that Min” Jungkook spits, his breaths heavy as his voice rises. This time Yoongi glares in his direction, growing bored of the way Jungkook plays the victim, his temper being strained as he stands straight and approaches him.

“You come here under the pretense of concern over someone who you’ve humiliated, broke down, and ignored and I’m the one to blame?” Yoongi raises his brows, surprise in his tone as he stands mere inches away.

Neither man backing down from the rigidity in the air.

“You Jeon’s and your audacity” Yoongi chuckles once again.

“don’t play those games with me Yoongi, I am not the man I used to be” Jungkook warns.

Jungkook doesn’t know what angers him the most, the way that Yoongi laughs in his face or the fact that his words are true, truths he isn’t willing to accept because after all he had his reasons, reasons he doesn’t feel like explaining to someone as beneath him as Yoongi.

“What are you really mad about?” Yoongi asks, his voice a mere whisper as he stares into Jungkook’s eyes without a flinch “that you no longer have control over Y/n or that you served her to me in a golden platter” he sneers.

Jungkook’s eyes widen; his whole-body trembling as he digests the insult. His restless mind races with ideas, imagining the way Yoongi has already poisoned you and then an image plays in his mind, one that causes him to lose his entire demeanor. He pictures Yoongi gliding his hands against your skin, his lips intruding in places that Jungkook has only ever wished to. before he can think about his next move, his fist flies in the air, punching Yoongi in the face with so much force his adversaries body stumbles back, torso slamming against the desk behind him with a loud groan.

“You mention my wife again and ill rip your tongue out of your skull” Jungkook booms violently.

“If you want to come for me and my father for the purpose of whatever sick delusion you have that’s fine, I promise you I will come back at you tenfold, but you leave Y/n out of this, you hear me?”

Yoongi hisses, his fingers finding the edge of his mouth as blood pours down from it, he shoots Jungkook a demonic scowl, quickly standing from his slumped position.

“My alliance is with Y/n and unlike you and your joke of a father, my loyalty will not waiver” Yoongi spits the blood from his mouth, his tongue tracing over the broken skin that Jungkook’s fist has caused “I would never throw her to be slaughtered like you have my father” Yoongi snarls.

Jungkook’s glare falters, recognizing something in Yoongi’s voice as he speaks of you, the way he becomes feral over the accusation he has thrown; over the possibility of putting you in danger. He’s offended, almost like he’s incapable but Jungkook blinks the thought away, he knows Yoongi better then that.

“But don’t get ahead of yourself Jeon what I have prepared for you and your family you will never recover from, and I won’t stop at a gun drawn to your head, they will have to glue you back together when I’m done with you” Yoongi declares.

“You promise?” Jungkook snaps back, tempting the monster that has resided within Yoongi for years since his father’s death.

Yoongi clenches his fist, stepping forward but before he can raise his hand to return the punch that has been delivered, the door flies open and his men pour into the room, guns drawn out as they circle around Jungkook, their fingers latched to the trigger, their eyes landing on the blood dripping down Yoongi’s chin.

“Everything okay boss? We heard some commotion.”

Jungkook tilts his head, counting the men that surround him and he prepares to take them out. his hand grips the gun at his side, swiftly pulling out it out from where it has waited patiently. He’s more than willing to use it, deciding the blood shed might help him release some of the conflict clamped in his mind. the need to destroy urging him to lock his own finger against the trigger. his brain strategizes over which damaged artery would cause the most damage.

tonight, he’s set on redecorating Yoongi’s office.

“Easy boys” Yoongi wipes away at the blood on his face, his eyes falling onto his palm as he inspects the dark red color against his pale skin.

“My visitor here was just leaving” Yoongi says, pulling out his handkerchief and pressing it against his lip.

Jungkook draws his attention back to Yoongi and Yoongi can see the void inside his eyes, the utter need to kill and destroy.

“Come on Min, let me play a little” Jungkook chuckles wickedly.

“don’t worry, there will be a time and a place” Yoongi promises, his own stare resolute and darkened.

“I will be back” Jungkook states, retreating from the room with his weapon tightly grasped in his hand.

“I don’t doubt that you will” Yoongi mutters, signaling for his men to lower their weapons. “Good luck on your search” he calls out, an angered smile forming on his face. 

Jungkook storms down the corridor, fury burning through him as he makes his way back to the entrance. Blood pumping quickly through his veins as he holds tightly on the gun wedged in his palm and for a moment he wants to turn around and run back into that room and fill Yoongi with bullets, dark desires taking over him as he grows frustrated.

He’s leaving empty handed, far more disgruntled than he was when he first entered and with a newfound appetite for carnage, his thoughts retreat to what Yoongi had said. His mind flooding with images of you finding comfort in Yoongi in a way he never allowed you to in him, his selfishness expanding.

Taehyung stands by the door, his eyes scanning the room eerily until he spots Jungkook through the crowd, his eyes landing on the gun in his hand and a knot forms in his throat, concluding the worst.

“You didn’t do anything stupid did you?” is the first thing out of his mouth as Jungkook brushes past him and out of the door.

Taehyung follows behind, his men falling in line after him as he too exits the club. He looks back at the dancing bodies inside and its only when he doesn’t notice any sign of chaos that he breaths, his muscles relaxing as he watches Jungkook enter his car.

“nothing?” Taehyung sighs as he gets into the passenger seat, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

Jungkook yells, slamming his hands against the steering wheel in rage until his palms are sore and reddened, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest. he knows he’s losing and every particle of his pride is refraining from accepting it, he wont last another moment without knowing where you are, if you are safe. It is within his same habit of underestimating you that he finds no relief in his worry.

He slips his hand into his pocket, bringing out his phone and swiping through his contacts.

“What now?” Taehyung asks in annoyance, he has spent too many nights crawling the city for you and his mind is exhausted, he wants nothing more then to be a loyal friend to Jungkook but even his faith in him is being pulled thin.

Jungkook presses the phone to his ear, his hands trembling with each ring that rolls out of the speaker and he’s becoming agitated with the sound alone but as he goes to slam the phone against the dashboard the ringing stops.

“Hello?” there’s a groggy voice at the other end of the line and then Jungkook hears shuffling accompanied by heavy breathing.

“Hey” Jungkook responds, sitting up from his defeated position.

There's silence for a moment and then a long sigh fills Jungkook’s ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” the person grumbles.

“I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.”

“What do you want Jungkook.”

“That favor that you owe me” Jungkook pauses, eyes peering through his windshield as he glares at the neon sign in front of him, the lights flickering on and off.

“I’m ready to collect it, Seokjin.”

-

𝐮𝐡𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫

𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝! 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

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© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[risingoftime]

AGAINST ALL ODDS | CORIOLANUS SNOW X PLINTH!READER | CHAPTER THREE

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TW - descriptions of death (Sejanus) & hanging/strangulation, night terrors.

Sejanus' trembling body materialized before you upon the wooden platform amidst the grim presence of the hanging tree. His once robust body now appeared frail and bruised, bearing the unmistakable marks of beatings, and starvation seemed to have drained the vitality from his once vibrant frame. He stood, a testament to the hellish spectacle the Capitolites had subjected him to be. Sejanus struggled to hold back tears; his voice desperately cried your name, yet no sound would escape his arid lips. An invisible force rooted you to the spot, rendering your limbs motionless despite your earnest efforts to break free from this immobilizing grip to reach Sejanus. 

The peacekeepers marched steadily past you, and a chilling lull descended, punctuated by the haunting sight of Sejanus standing at the precipice of his fate. They tightened and adjusted the noose around his vulnerable neck with methodical precision. Fear etched deep into his widened eyes, the anticipation of what awaited him palpable. The weight of the moment bore down upon you, beads of sweat tracing a trail along the nape of your neck as a surge of nausea threatened to release. The harsh finality of the situation washed over your being.

Sejanus resignedly mouthed a sorrowful apology, his wordless cry cutting through the heavy air. And then, an irreversible shift transpired with breathtaking swiftness. The ground beneath him gave way, dissolving into oblivion, the sickening sound of his neck snapping searing into your consciousness, an unshakeable echo of his death.

Your eyes snapped open to see Tigris pinning your arms onto the mattress. Blinking against the dim sunlight, you managed to stammer, "Tigris? Why are you in my room?" your voice came out hoarse.

The worry in her eyes was unmistakable. She loosened her hold on you slowly until she let go of your arms completely, her hands slightly trembling.

"Your screams... I heard them from downstairs," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was bringing your dress in, and I feared...I was scared something terrible had happened to you." She paused, swallowing hard. "Then, I found you... sleeping, but your body thrashing in the sheets as if you were trying to escape something. Are you okay? Has this happened before?"

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the sunlight peering in from your window. It made Tigris's blonde hair look like a halo on her head. However, her gaze didn't waver from you, the anxiety written plainly on her face, promising not to leave until she was sure you were safe. Seeing Tigris in this state made you sad. You didn't mean to let anyone else see you like this. 

"Just a nightmare, that's all. It used to happen every night since-" Cutting yourself off, It was difficult to say his name, not after what you had just seen. "I only get like this when I'm stressed." Tigris still didn't appear convinced by your response. Your nightgown stuck to your skin from the sheen of sweat on your body. You couldn't imagine how horrible you looked and felt in front of Tigris. Suddenly, painfully aware of yourself, you pulled the sheets above you as an act of modesty. 

"Where's Ma?" you asked. 

"She stepped out to run last-minute errands for the event tonight. She called me to help you get ready and, well, you know the rest." You half-expected Tigris to leave, respecting your privacy. But she pressed on. "I used to have dreams like yours when my parents died during the rebellion. It took me a while to cope with their death. I still struggle sometimes. You can talk to me, you know? You're my family too now." 

With a comforting pat on your thigh, Tigris rose from the bed. "I'll give you some space to freshen up. Meet me downstairs whenever you're ready." Her words stayed with you as the bedroom door closed with a faint thud, plunging you back into reality.

Today is your birthday, the day of your wedding shower— another reminder of your upcoming marriage to Coriolanus. The date was impending faster than you had hoped, and there was no sign of it stopping. Young marriages weren't uncommon in Panem post-war, but you had naively hoped for more time before earning the title of someone's wife. More time, much like you had wished for Sejanus. His life was taken from him at eighteen, the same age you were now. That's when it struck you: Sejanus won't see you off to get married, nor would he be there to watch over your kids and be the fun uncle you know he would be. 

You silently wept in bed, overcome by grief. This day was meant to be filled with happiness; it was anything else but that. You felt shame, aggressively wiping away the tears that poured from your eyes like a waterfall. You knew wallowing in bed would solve nothing. Yet, facing the world with red, swollen eyes filled you with dread. It would be an unspoken confession of your struggles, a silent admission of your turmoil. And you couldn’t have that. Ma would need you to keep it together. She’s already lost one of her children. 

Mustering your remaining energy, you got ready and adorned yourself with makeup before descending the stairs to join Tigris. In front of you, an awe-inspiring dark crimson red dress adorned a mannequin. The tulle gown exuded a celestial aura like the night sky had woven into every stitch. Handcrafted with meticulous attention to detail, shimmering pearls embellished the fabric, creating a mesmerizing constellation effect. The dress's form-fitting bodice gracefully accentuated the mannequin's curves before cascading outwards from the waist. Its sheer beauty left you speechless, your mouth agape in disbelief.

Turning to Tigris, you asked, "Did you make this?" Tigris smiled widely and nodded. 

"I hope that you like it. The pearls are handsewn and thoroughly placed to sparkle with your every move." Tigris says. "Come and hurry and put it on! I can't wait to see it on my muse." Tigris didn't show any distress cues from earlier or fawn over your every move. She offered a place of comfort as you stripped down to your undergarments and stepped into the gown. It fit like a glove, which was impressive, considering Tigris hadn't taken your measurements. Her eye for detail is astounding. The corset of the dress pushed your breasts up, giving the impression that you had more cleavage and a smaller waist.  As you gazed at your reflection, a gasp escaped your lips in awe of the masterpiece Tigris had created. "If I were to die in this dress, I would die a happy woman," you whispered. The sight of you was truly intoxicating, and in this dress, you felt a sense of confidence and accomplishment immersed around you. The person who stood before the mirror embodied a timeless beauty. You could envision yourself as someone suitable to be seen on the arm of Coriolanus Snow, the young man rumoured to be the next ruler of the Capitol. Without another thought, you brought Tigris into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She held you closer with her warm embrace. An excited shriek pulled you apart to find Ma with Coriolanus. 

"Oh gosh! My beautiful baby girl is all grown up."

Coriolanus exhaled in surprise at your appearance. His eyes trailed from your face down to the heels that you wore. It was one of the rare times that Coriolanus was genuinely speechless. Tigris cleared her throat, “So… what do you think?” Coriolanus finally pulled himself out of his entrapped daze and faked a cough to hide his lust-filled expression. But it was too late. You have already seen it.

"You look beautiful." Coriolanus wore a suit in a similar shade to your dress. Tigris must've tailored his outfit to cater to yours. “Tigris, You've outdone yourself,” he said.  From the outside eye, you were well suited for each other and made a good-looking couple. It would be easy to fall into the fantasy you have been presented with. Yet it didn’t change that it was all a fallacy; Coriolanus had only agreed to marry you for the money. It was damn easy to forget all of this when Coriolanus flashed you his dazzling smile and wrapped his arm around yours to escort you out of the penthouse to your wedding shower and birthday party.

Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “And before I forget, Happy Birthday.”

𓇢𓆸

The event was hosted in an extravagant lounge. There were rows and rows of velvet red sectionals and opulent jade banquettes. The lighting around the room was soft and illuminated the lush plants and countless influential figures of Panem that filled the space. Your name and Coriolanus’s were etched on a banner for all guests to view. Your parents had invited almost everyone that you’ve known. The Dolittle family socialized with Dr. Volumnia Gaul over a glass of champagne. While Eris Dankworth and her family kept to themselves, overseeing and judging the festivities that took place. Some of the University and Academy professors were in attendance as well. President Ravinstill could be seen at the far corner, seated at a private table with his wife. He was the man who'd granted our departure from the Districts when your father sided with the President by providing munitions to the Capitol. The President wore his prewar military uniform like a badge of honour. The gall of it all made you feel unsettled. 

You observed Coriolanus closely, gripped by his ability to captivate everyone around him with his calm demeanour and impeccable manners. Whenever he engaged in conversation, his eyes would light up as if each person he spoke to had just said the wittiest remark he had ever heard. It was awe-inspiring to witness. A part of you was taken aback. This side of him was rarely revealed in your presence. The Coriolanus you grew to know had disappeared. This one was fun-loving and easygoing. It was a version of him that made you reconsider if he was all bad, like you initially thought. 

"Must I say Coriolanus, you've snagged yourself quite the catch? Miss Plinth appears to be Sejanus's better half." Dr. Volumnia Gaul smiled much too widely after her comment. She had a sneaky habit of appearing when she was least anticipated. It made whatever she had to say sound ingenuine and cunning. Your spine stiffened at the mention of Sejanus from his former professor. Coriolanus rubbed small circles on your lower back, a meek attempt to distract you. He returned Dr. Gaul's smile. Before you could devise your retort, Coriolanus replied, "Thank you, it'll be an honour to call her my wife." He looked upon you with a glint in his eye, something that you hadn't noticed before, admiration or possession? It was hard to decipher. His gaze travelled down to your exposed breasts, and the desire on Coriolanus's face made you feel feverish. Undeniably, a new side of Coriolanus was in front of you. 

"Fate is a funny thing, isn't it Coriolanus? The Plinth family lost a son, to soon gain another." She smirked as if she knew something you didn't, "I'm curious to see how this union will be fair in the future. Best wishes to the both of you." And with that, she departed to refill her glass of champagne. Coriolanus kept his hand around your waist. His hold on you was unshakeable, and his face turned straight. 

"Are you alright? What was that all about?" You asked. 

"Nothing, Dr. Gaul is quite peculiar in how she expresses herself." His glare didn't wander from her figure as she walked through the crowd of guests. 

"So I've heard, Sejanus would talk about her briefly after class and in his letters." 

"Letters?" Coriolanus faced you incredulously. The thought of Sejanus sending his younger sister letters during his time in District 12 hadn't crossed his mind. 

Suddenly, the lights were cut, and the crowd gasped in shock. In the distance, you could see Ma and your father holding a cake with eighteen lit candles making their way to the booth you sat at. Everyone erupted in song, singing You Happy Birthday and began to gather around. 

"Make a wish, Honey," Ma said. Your father flagged down the hired photographers with box-like cameras that appeared chunky and heavy to the eye. Flashing lights surrounded you as they fired shots at your every move until the last candle was blown out. You could see Romulus standing beside his brother with a big grin. The similarities were uncanny. He shook a blue velour box and mouthed, "I got you a present." Eris Dankworth stood not too far behind them and watched the moment unravel. 

“How about a kiss from the soon-to-be newlyweds?” Eris yelled out with a sickening sneer on her lips. She couldn’t help herself. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” she began the chant amongst the guests. Anyone would think she did it all in good faith and fun. But you knew. It was a reminder of the conversation that took place in front of the Academy. 

With all eyes on you, there was little option but to comply. It would be odd not to. 

“Well, Mr. Snow,” you shyly peeked up through your wispy lashes, and Coriolanus stood tall, towering over you with his height. "Let's give them a run for their money." He softly nestled your face in his hands, his touch both consoling and electrifying. You sensed a slight tremor in his hands from anticipation. As his plush lips met yours, the kiss began tentatively, as if you were exploring unknown territory. Coriolanus pulled you in closer, pressing your bodies together until there was no space between you. Not knowing where to place your arms, you instinctively wrapped them around his neck, cultivating deeper access and connection. An unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body, igniting a desire you hadn't experienced before. Nerves fluttered in your stomach. This was your first kiss. Your first kiss is with Coriolanus Snow, and damn was it a good kiss. It was unclear who moved away first, but looking at your Ma, you could see her with clutched pearls. 

Coriolanus chuckled silently beside you, "Wow, I didn't think you had it in you, Miss Plinth. You're just full of surprises." Your elbow connected with his ribs, although this didn't stop him from laughing. Amid your embarrassment that your parents had seen you practically make out with your fiancee, you excused yourself to go to the powder room. If you found Eris alone, you would surely give her a piece of your mind. You were navigating through the crowd with mindless “thank you’s,” and the half-assed hugs were beginning to get on your last nerve. You just needed a quiet moment to yourself. Someone followed behind and caught your hand as you freed yourself through the exit doors to the restrooms. 

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get you alone all evening. It's like chasing a rabbit in a hay field,” Romulus said, slightly panting like he’d just run a marathon. He appeared strikingly handsome in his tailored midnight blue suit, a perfect complement to his dark hair and captivating features.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s unbefitting of a lady to be seen alone with a man who isn’t to be her husband, especially with the wedding date around the corner,” you said.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re letting Dankworth get to you,” Romulus wrinkled his nose when he uttered her name as if he smelled something horrid. “Besides, I like you better when you're defiant. It keeps things interesting in this dull place.”  

You rolled your eyes at his statement. Of course, he did. That was before. When you could afford to do whatever you pleased and live your day as your own. "What do you want, Rome?" you asked. He didn't track you down to chat. 

"Geez, did that kiss get your panties in a twist too?" Romulus snickered. You shoved him and snorted at his mortifying question. Romulus always knew how to make you laugh. 

"Oh God, please shut up! What was I supposed to do?" 

"I don't know, give the guy a peck, maybe?" Romulus's smile widened at your reaction, and he rummaged through his pocket to pull out the blue velour jewelry box from earlier. "Besides, if you didn't run out of there so quickly, I wouldn't be able to give this to you." He placed the present in your hands gently, like a delicate flower. 

"Rome, you didn't have to get me a gift-" 

"I know, but I wanted to. Open it." He nodded towards the box, motioning you to untie the bow that was wrapped around it. 

Inside held a beautiful gold locket necklace that looked like it had cost a fortune. Intricate swirl patterns were engraved into the locket, with hearts nestled beside each other. When you opened it, your favourite picture of you and Sejanus was inside. Romulus had taken the photo of the two of you that day in the sun. You wore a childlike grin in the photograph while Sejanus slung his arm over your shoulder, sporting a crooked smile. His pure essence is captured eternally, frozen in time just for you. This was the Sejanus that you remembered. Your eyes welled up with tears, and your throat became tight, making expressing your overwhelming gratitude to Romulus nearly impossible.

Romulus knew this and seemed prepared. He offered you his handkerchief. "Would you like me to help you put it on?" he asked. You nodded, as words still escaped you while you dabbed the corner of your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup. Romulus lifted the necklace, and it glinted in the light. Turning your back, he clasped the locket around your neck, which lay flat between your collarbones. A piece of Sejanus will always be near. 

"I think this is one of the best gifts I've ever received." you sniffled. 

"Even better than the horse your father bought you as a kid?" Of course, Romulus would try to crack a joke. 

"Even better." You took Romulus into your arms, holding him close and snugly, "thank you, Rome."

"Romulus, we need to stop meeting like this!" Coriolanus exclaimed with no humour behind the mirth in his voice. Peering over Romulus's shoulder, you could see him close the doors to the lounge behind him.

"Meeting like what?" Romulus asked. 

"With you, all over my fiancee." Coriolanus scowled at Romulus, tracking his every move with his glare. 

"He wasn't-" 

"I wasn't all over her, Coriolanus, don't be dramatic. I was merely giving her a birthday gift, and I didn't know that was a crime." Romulus raised both his hands in mockery as if he would be arrested. Your heartbeat began to pick up in pace. Little did Romulus know the severity of consequences that might lay ahead of him for taunting Coriolanus, even more so now that Coriolanus had seen Romulus holding you in his arms not too long after kissing him.

Coriolanus hid his malicious intent almost too well, "I know a couple of people who would beg to differ." There was a hidden meaning behind his choice of words. "I simply just came out to let my fiancee know that her parents are looking for her to make a toast before the guests begin to leave." Coriolanus turned to face you, making direct contact with the heart-shaped locket that embellished your chest. It made you feel naked under his scrutiny. 

"Yes, I'll be right there to join you soon. I want to say goodbye to Romulus. He was just leaving." 

Romulus caught on quickly about what you were hinting at and agreed, "Yes, I was. The only reason I came was to drop off her gift." He gestured towards the box in your hands and smirked. 

"Safe travels," Coriolanus muttered under his breath and turned to enter the lounge, but not before calling over his shoulder, "Please be quick. I'd hate to keep your parents waiting." 

When Coriolanus was out of sight, you hit Romulus upside his head. "Idiot! Why do you keep trying to get a rise out of him?" Romulus knew better. Coriolanus was not the type to engage in direct conflict. He would skillfully maneuver himself like a serpent, slithering to strike his opponents from behind when they least expect it. 

"You can't possibly believe that he'll make good on his threat." As suspected, Romulus didn't take it seriously when you told him about what Coriolanus said to you if he were to touch you. It would help if you had been wiser and not caught up in the moment. Getting caught up with Rome was a stupid mistake. 

"I don't know. But I'd rather not find out now. All I can do is hope that Coriolanus was bluffing." 

“The idea of you marrying him doesn't sit right with me. What do you even like about Coriolanus anyways?” Romulus sounded frustrated and perplexed, his hazel eyes filled with concern. 

Like was a strong word. You tolerated Coriolanus when needed. Still, the only things that you observed of him were from afar and through your brother until now.  

Sejanus was quite the optimist when he was ready. Coriolanus had always shown indifference towards us, the Plinths. He did not agree with my classmates' taunting but did not wholly disagree. Remaining neutral meant nothing to you, especially if said boy was Sejanus’s friend. What type of friend was he? An opportunist? Yes, for sure. But Coriolanus did not show much proof of friendship other than the tattered photograph he kept of them during the games and the letters Sejanus had written about Coriolanus to you. If you hadn't known any better, you would've called it a naive school crush that Sejanus had. Pa always chose to pay no heed to what displeased him, and Sejanus publicly grieving his childhood first love, Marcus, was undoubtedly one of them. 

Yet, you couldn't deny the chemistry you shared during the kiss. There was the possibility of growing to be fond of Coriolanus. This was likely at a different rate than your relationship was going. 

"I don't have to like Coriolanus," you sighed. 

"Well, you at least have to if you're going to spend the rest of your life with him," Romulus argued. 

"Rome, please, I don’t want to talk about this, not on my birthday." Your head began to pound from the onset of stress that returned to your body. One night, that's all you wanted. Romulus could see the tension rise within you and apologized. 

“I’m sorry; I didn't intend to damper the mood. Enjoy the rest of your night, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” Romulus surprised you by planting a small kiss on your forehead and departing shortly after. To see him leave so soon left a pit in your stomach. It was an unpleasant feeling. The more pressing concern was still present: would Romulus survive the wrath of Coriolanus?

𓇢𓆸

That question kept you up at night. The rest of the party was a success, although Coriolanus was in quite a sour mood for the rest of the event until we were escorted home. He'd returned to his usual self, only uttering a sentence in your direction if needed. After finding you in Romulus's arms, you partially expected him to be more brash towards you. It unsettled you when he was silent. 

Ringing from your landline telephone alarmed you. The only person likely to call you this late would be Romulus. There had to be something wrong. 

"Hello?" 

"You're awake." The voice sounded surprised that you had answered the phone.

"Coriolanus, why are you calling so late?" 

"Come let me in. I'm coming to your door." His words lightly slurred together.

"Corio-" you raised your voice in protest, but the line dropped. The flippant guy hung up on you. 

You rushed down the stairs in your silk robe as quietly as possible until you heard knocking at your front door. When you opened the door, revealing a dishevelled Coriolanus, his blazer was discarded and still in the dress shirt he wore to the wedding shower with a few extra buttons loose. "Shut up, will you! You're going to wake up my parents. Hurry and come in." He stumbled past you to sprawl out on the couch, faintly smelling of white liquor. Thank God the Avoxes weren't live-in help. 

"Have you been drinking?" you asked. 

Coriolanus pinched his thumb and pointer finger close together in response to your question. 

"Be honest, would marrying me be that bad?" Coriolanus's tone was soft and gentle. He looked tense and a bit unsure of himself. Even in this state, he looked handsome; it bothered you that Coriolanus didn't even seem aware of it. 

"I don't know," you answered honestly. "I can't imagine sharing a life with someone I don't love, regardless of their last name. I always thought I would fall in love with someone like Ma and my father. They grew up on the same street and started dating in their early teens. And I would raise a family and grow old enough to tell my grandkids stories of how I had loved and lost and met my greatest love of all, their grandfather." It was a small dream that wouldn't come true in this lifetime. 

"I can love you," Coriolanus retorted.

"You're drunk." You sat in front of him on the carpet. 

"So? I know I can love you better than Romulus. That guy couldn't wait to get his dirty little hands on you, and of all things, he got you a locket in the shape of a heart on the day of our wedding shower. I should strangle him with my bare hands, and I would do it again to any man who dares to lay a finger on you and what's mine." Coriolanus stumbled through his sentences, and if it weren’t for the last comment, you would've thought it was cute.

"Not this again. Are you jealous of Romulus? He's a friend, and it was a thoughtful gift, hardly romantic." 

"He's one of your only friends, and he makes you smile. You don't even laugh when you're around me. I should be the one that you want to lean on. I'm the one who will be your husband, not him." Coriolanus ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

"You sound like a child. I'll get you a glass of water," getting up from the floor to walk to the kitchen, Coriolanus took your hand in his to stop you. 

"Wait, don't leave. Let me prove it to you: I want to take you on a date." 

That earned laughter from you; it burst out of you and was hard to contain. “That’s hilarious coming from you, Snow.” But Coriolanus didn’t laugh, and his face became sober.  

Coriolanus expressed his sincerest intentions, “I’m serious. It’s still your birthday weekend. I’ll take you out to properly celebrate. I know tonight wasn’t ideal.”

You raised your eyebrows, still skeptical of him, questioning, “Why? So you could handle your vendetta?”

Unfazed by your disbelief, Coriolanus grinned, "No, it would be for you." His words lingered in the air. You were baffled and intrigued.

The room was momentarily silent, giving you time to process his response. You couldn't help but wonder what he meant by it. Was there a deeper meaning behind his words? Although you searched for clarity, you were eager for Coriolanus to continue, hoping his inebriated self would go into more detail. Yet, his face turned paler than usual, and his blue eyes met yours with focus. 

“I’ll take that glass of water now. I think I might be sick.”

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[faeriegothfather]

Split Open, Noose Sweat, Hacked Apart, and Genestealer at Black Lab, 18/06/23

[omkookie]

Just for fun / Glasyalabolas

⌈ ⚠️ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⌉ Smut, Necrophilia, hanging mentioned, fingering, noncon obviously. Glasya is nasty.

He picks up your stiff body, watching in glee as your arm limply falls to your side. He holds you up to his eye level and inspects your face, his eyes sparkling upon seeing the pale color of your skin, your bluish lips, and your chilled body that was slowly losing its heat.

Without uttering another word, he ripped the noose off of your neck and took you back to his room, his footsteps eagerly echoing throughout the hallway.

He slowly sets you down upon his bed, his fingers moving deftly to remove your clothes until he has stripped you bare, your skin covered in nothing but the fresh mark of a noose around your neck.

(Your cause of death: Strangulation)

Your dull eyes send a shiver of excitement down his spine, and he bites his lip as he traces a finger over your side, from your arm down to your hip. He squeezes your thigh, enjoying how the soft flesh feels underneath his bruising grip, and watching as your fragile skin turns purple.

He leans over your smaller body, his lips pressing against your navel to leave a kiss, then leaving a sweet trail of kisses down your soft thigh.

You look so beautiful… So awe striking.

Strands of your hair were still glued to the dried sweat on your forehead, and your unmoving eyes didn't blink once or try to push them out of your face. You were indeed gone, dead.

His cock aches with need as his tongue lewdly swipes through your folds, flicking and sucking on whatever part of your pussy he wants, all while he's feeling absolute bliss.

He pushed his fingers into your slit, watching as your hole was still refusing to take in two, So he spat on your pussy to lubricate his fingers better. It would make fucking you easier anyway

Does he need to stretch you out? No. Is he still doing it? Yes. Yes he is, and he's enjoying every second of it, eventually pulling his erect cock out to stroke it with his hand while his other one plays with your clit.

He doesn't know where to cum, should he ejaculate on your face? In your mouth? Your pussy? Ass? There were so many options available to him now.

He fists his cock with a groan before he pulls his fingers out of you and positions himself between your legs.

His eyes again looked into yours, and he smiled to himself as he placed his cock at your entrance. He pushes the tip between your folds and taps it against your clit a few times, just for fun.

Glasyalabolas is a creep.

Not even your dead body was safe from him.

[sparkbeast20]

Pre-MC in Hell

The kings having a meeting

Bael: *Sweating nervously* I propose-

Leviathan: [Hang]

Bael: *Being choked by a noose*

Post-MC in Hell

Beelzebub: *Leaning on MC*

MC: 😊

Bael: *'Here's goes nothing'*

Bael: *Clear throat* Since we're all here I have a couple of suggestion-

Beelzebub: Why so nervous~ Just tell the others that MC would be staying in Abyssos-

Bael: *Eyes widen* That's not what I was going to say!!

Leviathan and Satan: 😡🤬

Mammon: 🤨

Beelzebub: Oh come on~ lighten up.

That's when the argument started, with Beelzebub not really taking any of these seriously.

Bael: *'Huh... I guess that this is how things is going to be for now on-'*

Bimet: I still don't like you

Foras: I would ask if you tell your king to take this seriously, Bael.

Bael: 😶

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Oh to be a fly next to Daniel when he received the news about her pregnancy

His Best Man || DR3 {Daniel’s Reaction}

A/N: quick 700 words written on my phone 💕 F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction

Daniel wouldn’t normally have his phone with him when he was meant to be listening to the debrief. His entire concentration should have been on the technicians reading the data from the free practice he had just completed. But since you hadn’t been feeling the best you decided to stay home instead of going to the paddock, and it had left him feeling a little unsettled. He missed your company.

Like a teenager in class, he had his phone on his lap hidden under the table and the moment it lit up he snatched it. His thumb froze over the green icon as his brain registered the name on the screen wasn’t yours.

“Excuse me, guys, I need to take this,” he interrupted as he abruptly stood up and left the room. He and James hadn’t spoken since the phone call in Portland nearly two months ago and if the biometric monitor was still attached from the practice it would have caught the sudden spike in his heart rate.

For a second Daniel thought about letting the call go to voicemail but he wasn’t a coward, so he took a deep breath and answered the call. “Hello, mate, it’s been a while,” he greeted with a confidence he didn’t feel.

Immediately James’ laugh set him on edge and he closed the door to his driver room since there were still a lot of people loitering around. “Tends to happen when you fuck someone’s wife.”

“Ex-wife, which tends to happen when you’re a cheating piece of shit,” Daniel shot back.

“Hmm, I don’t remember signing any court documents.”

Daniel was usually patient by nature but his patience for this man had run out on the side of a highway in Perth. “Why did you call me, James?”

“I just thought we could celebrate the wonderful news together, since my wife is pregnant. I’m assuming you’re the father but considering she’s a whore, who knows?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, James,” Daniel growled as his hands threatened to crush the phone with the grip he had. “You don’t talk about her like that, ever, you understand!”

“That she’s a whore or that she’s pregnant? Because both are true.”

“You’re a fucking liar, and she can’t have kids, she already told me.”

James’ laugh sent Daniel’s stomach dropping and a cold fissure running down his spine. “Who's the liar now…”

The phone went dead before he could respond and he stared at his phone as it returned to his home screen. The image was one of his favourites, though every photo of you was technically a favourite, this one was perfect. You weren’t even paying attention to the camera as he snapped the shot, all of your focus was on the tiny joey cradled in your arms as you bottle fed it.

He already knew about your fertility struggles, it was no secret, but it was clear you would have been a great mother had you been given the chance. It was why he was struggling so much to digest James’ words. You wouldn’t have lied about that, he couldn’t believe it.

Needing the reassurance only you could provide, he tied the arms of his race suit around his waist and started to run. It wasn’t far to his apartment block from the paddock but it felt longer as he sprinted full pelt through the busy streets.

Daniel hadn’t even thought to bring his keys and after a few attempts at knocking loudly he went back to the front desk to borrow a spare one. The knots in his stomach had twisted into a noose by the time he unlocked the door and walked into the silent apartment.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his spine as he heard a soft sob come from the bathroom. The sound penetrated his heart and spurred him to close the distance in a mad dash to fix whatever had caused you pain but he never expected to find you the way he did. Pregnancy tests littered the floor, three bold plus signs staring him in the face as he stumbled back against the wall and let it take his weight and he slid down to the floor.

“You said you couldn’t have kids.”

[sulfursmells]

S is for Smelly

“I won? I WON!!! OMG” That was me about 7 hours ago. I received an email saying that I won the sweepstakes to spend a recording session with one of my fav idols S.Coups from seventeen. I’ve dreamed of having a chance to talk and admire him up close. He’s charming voice, well chiseled face and abs. Not to mention his big, soft melon sized ass. I always wanted to get a closer look and this is that chance. Let’s skip a little to when I arrived at the studio. I was basically shaking with excitement and anxiety about finally meeting my idol.

After walking in I met his manager who asked me to sign an NDA. Which I didn’t question sing any music and conversation should stay within the room though I did see a strange word in there that I didn’t really think about. “Did that say gas?” I asked myself after signing my name and walking towards the studio. I look through the doors window to see S.Coup sitting in a chair wearing a white shirt and tight white pants, glistening with sweat as if he just stepped off the stage. I hastily open the door and walk in introducing myself. “Hi I’m ..” he quickly interrupts me and says, “come here and let’s get started.” I start walking towards him , when I turn my attention to the door that I just walked through lock behind me. In an instant his calm, constructed idol personal fell revealing something I wasn’t expecting.

“Get down here right now” is all I hear before my world goes dark. I feel the embrace of his Jean covered ass envelope my entire face not leaving any space for anything but air. His ass carrying the scent of musk and sweat dripping onto my face as if he just finished a workout, which he might have by the smell of it. “I get complaints from the staff about my musk and gas. They say I leave the room almost uninhabitable after an editing session” he says as he starts to grind my face deeper into the seat. “So until I’m done you’re going to be my little seat protector, isn’t that exciting” he says as he starts to giggle.

Is this why I was brought here? To be nothing mod than the seat of my favorite idol? This is …….. hot. What kind of fan would I be if I didn’t help my fav keep up his reputation. With that decision made S.Coups raises his butt up a bit letting me see again as he removes his pants then boxers. His fat vulumptous cheeks pouring out of his tight boxers, as sweat drips onto my face. “Ahhhhhh I have to sir it out you know?”he says. I can’t see his face but I know he has a smirk on while saying all of this.Staring up and taking in the scenery, as his melon sized cheeks start to make their descent. “Be a good fan and try not to make too much noise, I still have some work to do. Thanks in advance” was the last words I heard. His ass easily enclosed my entire head only the heavy smell of musk that could rival 4 bony builders after a workout was left.

Then I heard it the gurgle of his stomach as he leans a bit to the left. A torrent of hot gas as bad as a dumpster fire hit me in the face going straight up my noose. I start to gag and cough, flailing about underneath S.Coups. “Can you quiet down, this is a job only my number one fan can do. If you do it well I’ll give you a little present at the end” he says. A present I wonder what it could be, “Do you understand?” S.Coups asks. I respond with a muffled yes and steel myself for what comes next.

“Fair warning, I get pretty gassy after practice so prepare yourself” then he sits full weight on my face. Then came the constant blasts, each one ranging from long silent hissing to loud bassy trumpets, actually it could rival a trumpet with how loud it was. Each one so hot adding my own sweat on top of the sweat the would drip off his cheek. After about a two hours he finally got up, giving me the first sight of light and fresh air in a while. When I got up I coughed and took a deep breath thinking I survived just to breathe in the scent that was dense in the room. “Damn I hoped that you would sniff them all up, I’m going to get in trouble again. Guess you have to be punished for not doing your job!” With that S.Coups pushes my body against the door pinning my face between the door and his ass. “ I would say I’m sorry but I’d be lying, say goodnight!!” I heard a grunt and then a fart that lasted way longer than any of his previous blasts fogging up the window on the door, rivaling the smell of a skunk and a garbage truck combined. Everything goes black.

I wake up and check around the room, S.Coup is nowhere to be found but his smell still stains the room even with the door open. I check my watch and four hours since my experience with him. I go walk towards my bag and find a sign cd from him and was elated that at least I got something from this experience, though I fire I didn’t entirely hate it. I rush home to play the cd, avoiding streets with a lot of people since the stench of his ass and gas was scorched onto my clothes. I rush into my room and pop the cd into my laptop and hear S.Coup start talking, “thank you to my number one fan for a fun experience” I start to blush thinking that the entire experience was worth it. Then I hear one of his notorious blasts come through the speaker of my laptop and my coughing in the background. “HE RECORDED THE WHOLE THING”, I sit back in embarrassment and then catch a whiff of my hoodie which he imprinted his scent onto. I start to sniff the hoodie and listen to his blast at the same time reliving my wonderfully smelly S.Coup Experience.

[mothwingwritings]

Release

F!Reader X Ren Hana

Hello everyone!!! Back at it again with a new Boyfriend To Death fic ❤

I know what you might be saying. “Wow another BTD fic based around a collar, real original Moth” BUT in my defense I actually wrote this one before the story I wrote for Strade. My brain barfed this out a few months ago (when I finished playing through Ren’s route for the first time) but I wanted to make something Christmas-esque because it was December, so Strade’s story came out first.

Regardless, I had a lot of fun writing both, so I hope you enjoy them too! ❤

Though there is nothing overtly sexual in this, due to the subject nature of this fic this story is 18+ ONLY please!!!

Warnings: imprisonment, abuse (physical and mental), reader has some extreme Stockholm syndrome going on, incredibly unhealthy relationship, biting, blood, reader gets hurt, mentions of sex, I guess maybe petplay potentially??? (what with the collar and all).

Thank you for reading!

“Okay… You promise you’ll be a good girl, right? No funny business?”

Despite being perched on soft carpet, your legs ached from kneeling on them for the past half hour. You kept your back pin straight and your shoulders even, your hands neatly folded in your lap. His voice was cheery as he spoke down to you, playful even, but you knew Ren well enough to know that these next moments were crucial. With him, even the most benign moments could turn at the drop of a hat.

“I promise Ren. I’ll be good.”

Your voice was soft as you responded to him, big doe eyes looking up at the beastkin in expectation. Your promise wasn’t a lie- you always intended to be good for him, striving to do so even when the situation made that nearly impossible. You bit your bottom lip apprehensively, a slight shiver wracking Ren’s body when you did so. He was watching you just as closely as you were him, drinking in your form, honing in on each and every move of your body and change of expression. 

He smiled at you, that sad half smile he always got when he was grappling with his inner emotions. “I know you will. You are always good for me… To me…” He hesitated for a moment, staring with trepidation at the key that lay in his hand. It was no bigger than his pinky, but seemed to weigh him down regardless.

“I’m just, um, nervous I guess. But I’m not sure why? It’s not like taking it off is gonna change anything,” Though he laughed to dispel the tension, it had the opposite effect, his nerves palpable as he fidgeted where he stood.

For a moment you thought he was going to go back on his word. Tell you to forget about it and toss the shock collar’s key aside, leaving you stuck in it for another day. Part of you wondered if that would even matter. Ren was right, nothing truly would change, collar or not.

… But still, you couldn’t help but hope. That cruel, nagging feeling swelled up in your heart, making your breath hitch in anticipation. Your heart beat like a drum in your chest and sweat slicked your brow as you watched him nervously turn the key around in his palm, your fate in his hands as he mulled the decision over.

It had been months now that the collar had been around your neck, heavy and overbearing, a constant, torturous reminder of your new life. He had only allowed it to come off in brief intervals when you showered or when you slept so that you could find some comfort as you laid next to him, caged in by his embrace. Otherwise it wrapped around your neck like a noose, and even though these days its intended purpose was hardly necessary, Ren kept it firmly in place. He was too afraid to keep it off you for long, worried that given the choice you would abandon him too.

But you wouldn’t. For better or worse, whatever twisted feelings Ren had harbored for you, you now shared for him-all of his ardent affections reciprocated. Deep inside you knew this all was wrong, and it would be a blatant lie if you said you no longer felt any fear or sadness over all that had transpired (all that continues to transpire) while he held you in captivity. Even so, none of that dulled the fact that at this point you craved his touch, yearned for his smile, and wanted nothing more than his companionship and love to get you through the lonely struggle life had become.

After spending months with him as your only companion, you had grown to care deeply for Ren. Though the experience was often terrifying and confusing, you had learned to place your trust in him as he watched over you the past half year, relying on him for all your needs and necessities. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about him. And the more you learned, the more you began to open up to him. 

After a certain point, love began to blossom.

That feeling flourished within, growing so unruly that even his moments of torment and cruelty were accepted with open arms. It took you awhile to realize it, but you now understand that everything Ren does he does for your benefit. Whether he was treating you like a princess or teaching you a harsh lesson, Ren did everything in his power to make sure you were cared for, protected, and aware. Life wasn’t always fair and kind, it was better to be taught that at the hands of someone who loved you then to experience it unexpectedly out in the wild.

Looking back on it now, you were a fool not to appreciate him sooner. All the fussing and fighting you did when he first brought you home seemed completely ridiculous now. He took you in, let you live in a nice home, prepared you home cooked meals every day, and lavished you in affection even when you were being stubborn and didn’t deserve it.

For all that he is and all that he has done for you- the good and bad alike- he deserved nothing but your wholehearted devotion in return. Thinking about the past made you cringe but you refused to let yourself get caught up in it, doing your best every day to be good for him and make up for your prior indiscretions. He loved you with all that he is, poured his soul into caring for you and keeping you content. No past lover had ever treated you with the loyalty or attention that Ren had, and you were thankful for that.

 His happiness had become your happiness. To risk the life you had built together by taking advantage of his kindness was unthinkable.

But even with your steadfast dedication to him, he still continued to mull over this decision with a deep scowl plastered on his face. An ache blossomed in your chest. Surely he had to realize by now that he was just as precious to you as you were to him? You pouted a bit as you watched him agonize over the situation, your heart hurting to see him have such a lack of faith in your bond.

“… Ren?”                                                                                    

Your questioning voice caught his attention, dragging his focus away from the key he was clutching in his sweaty grip. The moment you had grabbed his attention, you slowly began scooting closer to him, your knees itching as they scratched against the fibers of the fancy carpet. Once you neared him, you raised your hands till they cupped his, gently enveloping his shaky fist in your warm hold. You pulled his hand towards your mouth, delicately kissing each of his fingers as you stared up into his eyes.

“If you don’t want to take it off, you don’t have to,” you smiled at him genuinely, your lips lingering on his thumb before you pulled away. You felt a shiver pass through him as his eyes grew hazy, boring into yours with growing intensity, “I can tell it’s making you uncomfortable, so it’s OK. I am not upset, we can keep it on another day-“

“No.”

Your eyes widened at the assuredness in his voice, all previous concern nonexistent. “No… It’s time to take it off. It’s only getting in the way at this point. Just… Gimme a second, OK?”

He positioned himself behind you, nervous hands fumbling as he worked to remove the collar. After several seconds of poking and prodding, a loud ‘click’ came from the back of your neck followed by a small thud as the heavy collar fell from your body, colliding with the carpeted floor.

Your hand’s shot up to touch your exposed skin, a shiver coursing through you as the cold air hit your sweaty flesh. Tears began to well in your eyes as the realization donned on you. You were free. You had been a good girl for Ren and he rewarded you for it, just like you knew he would.

“W-well,” you heard Ren stutter above you, clearly a bit nervous about what may happen next, “What do you think? How does it feel?”

“It feels amazing,” your voice warbled as you still got used to the sensation. Its absence was foreign and exciting and you couldn’t help but break out in a huge, elated grin. “Thank you Ren. Thank you so much.”

He lowered himself in front of you, crouching on his knees. “Can I see?” A hint of worry still remained in his timid voice, fearful that you may still end up rejecting him.

You looked to him with a smile and nodded, baring your neck for him to witness. “Of course! I probably look a little bit different without it on, huh?”

“Pretty…” His voice was breathless as he dragged his fingers gingerly across the freed skin of your neck. His pupils dilating slightly as he felt you shudder under his touch. “So, so pretty… But also, a little barren, don’t you think?”

Your breath caught at the insinuation, a small wave of panic causing your body to tense. Did he regret his decision after all? Was he going to put the collar back on? You had told him it was fine if he decided that, and you weren’t someone who went back on their word, but at the same time… that was before you experienced it. Now that you realized how good it felt without that horrible, weighty reminder clinging to your skin, you dreaded the thought of it attached to your body once more.

An airy chuckle fell from his lips as he noted your reaction. He leaned in closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as he brought his mouth close to your ear.

“Don’t worry pumpkin, I’m not going to put it back on. But I do hate the idea of you walking around without something on your body to signify that you’re mine, you know?” His caress traveled from your cheek, his right hand snaking around your head to cradle it, pulling you closer to him. His free hand wrapped around your waist, which kept you flush against him.

“I want to give you something better than that collar,” his voice had become strained, lithe fingers curling up to entangle in your hair, tugging roughly on the strands at the base of your neck. “I want you to have something personal, something that will look perfect on you.”

Without another word, he latched himself to your neck. Not in a kiss, but a harsh, powerful bite.

You gasped as his sharp incisors dug themselves into your flesh, a wave of pain causing tears to flood your eyes. You pressed your fists against his chest, biting down on your trembling bottom lip in an effort to hold back your cries.

Warm blood trickled from the wound as he detached himself, a vibrant trail snaking from the puncture wound to slither down your neck. His tongue stopped it before it hit your collar bone, leaving a wet, sloppy streak across your neck as he licked up the mess.

“This is much better, right?” He asked tentatively, his fingers traveling down to trace the wound he had inflicted. Blood coated his fingertips as he ran them over the injury, his breath hitching as he smeared you with crimson, “prettier… you are so pretty, (name)…”

“T-thank you Ren,” you flinched at the movement of his fingers, shuddering as he pressed down on the open wound, “It’s much better.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, pivoting your head slightly so that he could nuzzle into the unmarred side, “but it’s not perfect yet, there needs to be more.”

Another abrupt bite sunk into your flesh. This time you couldn’t help but cry out, blubbery whimpers tumbling from your quivering lips. You felt Ren shiver against you, your reactions eliciting an excited moan from him that was muffled by your flesh in his jaw. The hold his teeth had on you eventually yielded, but the assault of his mouth did not. Feverish kisses pressed against the new wound, his tongue lapping at the blood as it muscled its way across the puncture. You whined at the sensation, waves of pain emanating from the weeping, gory wounds as he continued to aggravate them.

When he finally pulled away tears had already begun to fall freely down your cheeks. Though he had given your neck a much needed break, you were given no time to collect yourself as he proceeded in pressing his lips firmly to yours. The taste of copper flooded your tongue as he deepened the kiss, forcibly pushing himself against you until you had no choice but to lean backwards, your back falling flat against the floor as he crawled overtop you.

He placed his hands on either side of you, his legs straddling your hips as he sat himself atop you. You were effectively caged in when his lips parted from your own, and though his face was obscured in shadows, you could clearly see a swath of your blood spread across his mouth. It perfectly complimented the animalistic hunger in his eyes, his mischievous fox like features seeming far more sinister than normal as he leered down at you.

If you didn’t know any better, you would fear he was going to eat you alive.

“I want to mark you in all kinds of ways, (Name),” His tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip, a sliver of pink peeking through the red, “I want to mark you to show you how much I love you. I want you to be able to look at every inch of your body and be reminded of me. That way even if we get separated, you won’t be lonely. You’ll have a constant reminder of how much I love you.”

A serene smile spread across his face as he looked at you, the vibrancy of his blush nearly matching the blood that coated his mouth and chin. He shifted a bit above you, the feel of his hardening cock unmistakable as it pressed against your pelvis.

“I love you,” his voice wavered as he leaned closer towards you, unsteady breaths fanning your face as his lovesick eyes drank you in. His lips were teasingly close to yours as he continued to smile down at you, a small, happy laugh tumbling from his lips as his tail began to swish behind him in excitement.

“I’m so glad I made you mine.”