#which is making me a little cuckoo

[rigginsstreet]

*beloved mutual who is a casual stranger things viewer reblogging a seemingly innocuous post*

Me shaking at a frequency unknown to man: they don’t know the horrors and lies and deception OP has posted

[dandyshucks]

havent said it for a while bc I've been so busy but just know. I am thinking about that guy (guz) every day. and i love him SOOO much dhfjdkdl

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Rindou x Reader

wc: 1200

angst, fluff

not edited

Rindou loves you. You know he does, but he has this annoying habit of not listening to you sometimes. Especially when it comes to recommendations. You recommend him food? Yeah, he'll try it. spoiler alert: he forgets. what about a movie you watched the other day and liked so much that you told him to watch it immediately? "Yeah, when I have time I will" is his answer. However, he'll only watch it if someone else recommends it too not even remembering you mentioning anything about it. And then he has the nerve to tell you all about it while you listen to him unimpressed. Sometimes it makes you feel like your opinion matters very little to him but you've never told him this. Part of you doesn't want to seem like an insecure girlfriend while the other part thinks there is no deep meaning to this.

This war in your mind ended when you entered your bedroom after having a bad day and saw Rindou sitting on the bed leaning his back on the headboard and "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" in his hands. You remember telling him how you cried reading it. However, you're surprised he's reading what you recommended. sensing your presence Rindou removed his glasses and looked at you.

"Tired?"

"Exhausted" you sit beside him "Do you like it?" you ask indicating the book.

He shrugs

"I've only read 20 pages yet. But Kakucho said it's really good"

You roll your eyes. thinking that you should've seen this coming you mumble "Of course he did" which wasn't as quiet as you expected because Rindou turned to you with a confused hum. You just shake your head as in "nothing" and try to get up but Rindou grips your arm and makes you sit back down. You sigh not having enough energy to deal with this.

"What is it?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"Should I be?"

He closed the book setting it aside as he turned to me with narrowed his eyes as if sensing the trap.

"I... don't know. What did I do?"

"It's nothing Rindou, let me go"

Your words had the opposite effect as his grip tightened.

"That's not my name" His voice got low

"Uh it actually is"

"Not for you. Did I fuck up that badly?"

Now that you think about it no he didn't. It's probably you who's overreacting and creating a problem over nothing. You sound ridiculous even to you and you hate yourself.

"It's really nothing. I've just had a bad day so... I just wanna sleep"

After a moment of hesitation, Rindou let you go, his eyes following as you got changed and got in bed turning your back to him. As you lay in bed your overthinking got worse. The fact that he doesn't know what he's doing affects you this badly means that he's not doing it on purpose. But that's even worse. Does that mean that he doesn't even value your opinion enough to think about how neglecting it would affect you? Maybe he thinks you don't care about it so he doesn't too. Or maybe he just forgets. This also means he doesn't care. Every version you think about leads to you thinking he doesn't care and that feels really shitty.

On the other hand, Rindou was watching you lying silently with your back to him and he knew then he definitely did something wrong. You get in bed and do not snuggle up to him planting your head in his neck? Yes, something is terribly wrong.

"C'mon love, tell me what's wrong" he snaked his arm around your waist, and turns out this is all it took for your tears to run free. You bite your lip to stop it from trembling feeling so stupid for crying over something so trivial.

"And don't you dare to say it's nothing bec- are you crying?"

Rindou could swear he heard his heart crash. He turned you around to face him. tucking your hair behind your ear he quickly wiped your tears.

"Hey, don't cry, i- I'm sorry okay? Whatever I did, I didn't mean it just don't cry"

Even though he thought, and has told you this plenty of times, that you looked pretty when you cried, he hated when you cried. Even more, when he was the reason behind those tears.

"Talk to me please?"

Looking anywhere but at him, you opened your mouth to speak.

"It's really stupid"

"So stupid that you're crying over it? I don't care, tell me."

You don't want to.

"It's just... sometimes you don't listen to me"

Rindou was confused. You sound so crazy to him right now. He doesn't listen to you? You have him wrapped around your finger. Your word is a fucking law to him and you have the nerve to say that he doesn't listen to you? He only listens to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything I suggest you just forget until someone else suggests the same thing. Like-" You sniffle between speech "Like this book. You're reading it because Kakucho told you, but I told you to read it weeks ago"

The more you talk the more you want to shut up. Dreading seeing Rindou's expression you focus on your hands.

"It feels like you don't care about my opinion. It's so stupid I know..."

"I don- What?" Rindou couldn't help but exclaim. His mind processing thousands of thoughts right now. You think he doesn't care? How long have you been feeling like this? And you didn't tell him? Is there anything else you're not telling him because it's so "stupid"? "Listen, love, I'm so sorry, I didn't know- Of course, I care, Who do you think I listen to if not you? Ran? Fucker used to think Julius Caeser was named after the salad."

That made you chuckle and it was like a rainbow after the storm for Rindou. A sound he never wants to stop hearing. smiling at you he continued.

"I do listen to you okay? I remember every little detail you tell me. Starting with the shows you watch to the drama going on at your work. By the way, Rika got what she deserved, she was being the bitch first."

"That's what I'm saying" You exclaim and Rindou was so happy he could see you smiling again.

"I don't want you to doubt your value in my life okay? You're the best thing ever happened to me and I'd be a dumbass if I didn't appreciate you. And don't ever try to hide things from me again. No matter how stupid you think it is. Nothing is stupid to me when it comes to you. So no more tears, alright?"

You nod scooting closer.

"alright"

Rindou wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, kissing the crown of your head.

"By the way, I started reading this book because you suggested it. Kakuchou saw it in my car when I bought it and told me it was good"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Sleep now"

"Goodnight"

"Goodnight, love"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

got the idea from modern family's one episode

might delete this one too later, not sure. just felt like sharing

[heavens-aesthetic-kitchen]

Why the TF2 Defense Trio deserve more recognition

The people have spoken, I have decided to create an essay disguised as a post on this godforsaken website because it's a free country goddammit! (I would have done it either way lmaooo, I have a lot of shit to say about these maniacs) To start this formal essay glorified very serious shitpost, why should you as a tf2 fan care about these 3 men? They're so "boring" and there's not much going on with them. If ya took a second, let's pause with what was being said. YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND to think such thoughts, we must shake you out of cuckoo land by giving you an in-depth look into these three so that you understand where I'm coming from. Let's start in order:

Demoman:

After being in the fandom since 2019, there's always one character I always thought wasn't given much anything in the fandom at all. Even taking ships out of the equation, there's barely any fics I've that focus on Tavish Finneagan Degroot specifically that I've seen that isn't a compilation fic (I read a lot of x readers, don't judge me). Believe me, I checked ao3. I went through Demoman's tags and I tried very hard to filter a lot of the crossover and relationship tags, yet there's less of Demoman himself, than there's him just existing as a side character of a story. Which is honestly sad, I honestly think Demo is one of the more kinder mercs compared to a lot of the team. This man made friends with the BLU soldier, despite knowing that they were supposed to be killing each other. Sure, it's unclear whether or not Demo did actually go through with it and it's just a ruse, because the voicelines in WAR! don't have a set timeline. But I do think that Demo would have tried to keep his friendship with BLU soldier. He's very chill. I've never actually seen him get violent against his friends and family, despite being a drunkard. I honestly think he's one of the sweetest people in TF2, he takes good care of his mom and haunted sword lmaoooo. Jokes aside, he seems like a genuinely good man and I barely see anything that suggests he's sadistic. He's a chaotic and loud, but not bad. Not bad at all. The fact he can still do his job well, even after drinking so much that his body created a whole distillery, is even more impressive. He is damn good at what he does and works very hard. He's had multiple jobs, even as wee little lad. Despite what people think of him, the fact he's getting paid 5 million dollars a year, is proof he knows what he's doing. He loves his job and couldn't bear the thought of not working. I feel like his backstory isn't talked about enough in the fandom either. When you think about it, it's kinda fucked up that he was put in an orphanage by his biological parents until he was in the right age to be blowing people up. Not only that, his eye socket was haunted by the Bombinomicon so that every halloween a giant eye would manifest, attacking him and his friends. Even Medic couldn't help him and instead resorting to scooping the part of Demo's brain where he remembered so he would stop asking. He most likely has a lot of stories for you, I see him as the type that has a lot to say. His past is the most fleshed out and complete out of all the mercs, which I really appreciate, you can do a lot more with him. Also another thing, during Unhappy Returns, he took the time to reassure Soldier that he wouldn't think he's a civilian. He didn't brush Soldier's worries aside and instead comforted him. I wish I had a lot more to say about Demo because I am baffled that he isn't being gushed about as a potential partner. He has the excitement and like zero baggage. A thing I also wanna point out is that he seems to be insecure of the fact he's a black scottish man with only one eye during Meet The Demoman. I may be reading into things a bit too much, but it makes me wanna be like "NOOOO don't talk about yourself like that, bro. You're so cute UGHHH" Also also he's handsome. Sure looks can be subjective, but I still think Demo has a face I would kiss hehe. He looks great with his beard and his cheeky ass smile. GOD I could gush about him all day, but I have to move on rip.

Heavy:

Honestly, I'm having a hard time just finding the words to describe this amazing man without giving him the respect he deserves. But I'll sure try. Heavy has had a difficult life and I've always admired how strong he was. Not just of his muscles, but he endured one of the toughest situations and still kept moving forward with his life even though it was traumatizing. You see why I'm even having a hard time talking about him? I can't really get down into the weeds, without getting serious for a min. I feel like the fandom doesn't give him much credit for being able to deal with so much. He's the rock for his family after his father disappeared (atp I think he's dead, which is the cherry on top this depressing sundae) and I wouldn't doubt that he would be the same for his team. He's a man of few words, but that makes him all the more intriguing. Just because this man has a lot of brawn does not mean he's dumb at all. Despite how he acts in the battlefield, Heavy is observant and clever. Although, it's implied that Spy being Scout's dad is an open secret between the mercs and Miss Pauling, the fact he figured it out without saying it directly must mean he has a lot more going on. He's also educated, getting a phD in Russian Literature. It's not a STEM program, but he actually got a doctorate and went to college, that's a lot more than half of what the mercs did lmaooo. Also he has a bit of a softie side, not just for his mom and sisters, but also other creatures as well. I respect him so much for avoiding violence against those dogs during the Showdown comic. Not only shows what an absolute sweetheart he is, but also how much he's able to think quickly on his feet. Heavy is very direct and blunt, I don't see him as the type to lie about his feelings. I appreciate that he doesn't feel the need to sugarcoat anything, he'll get the job done and he ain't playing. There's no fluff, he knows what he wants and that's to rev up Sasha and ram through sons of bitches without any worries.

I feel like I wanna point out, his story seems the most unexplored in the fandom, even though it has a lot of potential for ANGST factor. I already broke down how sad it is, but I just feel like it isn't said enough. Can I just say how cuddly he looks?! GAH, I feel like he would give the warmest hugs! The way he smiled in Unhappy Returns when he finds out his family doesn't need to live in fear anymore, just melts my heart! He's so protective over his family and friends! I wish I had a lot more to say about this guy because I just can't stop finding more things about him that go unappreciated. I had to literally edit this part so many times before moving on, he just has those little details you don't notice until you take a second and have that OH MY GOD moment

Engineer:

I was getting so hyped, when it was finally our resident southern nerd's time to shine. GOD I have so much to say about this man. It's been over 5 fucking years and I have never stopped simping for this man since 2019, I think I'm gonna go insane from how much I've been repressing, I go feral when he's around. Anyways enough stalling. I don't ever think a fictional character has ever made me swoon quite like Engineer, I really mean that. I have ask and pleaded to whatever god was listening to give me a man like Engie. To me, he is everything I ever wanted and more.

First, I wanna talk about what makes him attractive to me. His accent. His southern charm, UGH he's killing me with that smooth voice and chivalry! I swear this man could make me faint just from existing. The way he smiles is so warm, his insults are so corny I love them. That five o clock shadow GAHH! I'm getting butterflies all over again. I swear I love all three of the defense bois, but Dell Conagher has my heart wrapped around his gunslinger metal finger. All those personal reasons aside, I've always thought Dell Conagher was a very interesting character in the world of TF2. He might not have much screen time or goofy shenanigans like the other mercs, but that doesn't mean you can ignore him oh no no no. This man is important within the whole story of Mann Co and TF industries, his grandfather being the catalyst of the game's events and the comics going forward. The Conaghers are the SOLE REASON why Team Fortress 2's story exists. I find it strange that the fandom hasn't done much with this fact because you can do a lot with this idea. Engineer knows a lot of shit and would be the biggest threat to Helen, if not for the fact that his family has been helping her for years.

Like his backstory, he's not seen much in the battlefield, but he has a lot more going on behind the scenes. Imagine the possibilities. He is damn intelligent and he knows it. While Dell is very sweet and has a southern charm, this is a facade to hide his God complex and sadistic tendencies. If you think this man is just your boring gentle engineer, you've got a big storm coming. It's heavily implied that he sawed off his own arm so that he could use the gunslinger. This man works on projects with Medic and doesn't question the moral implications of putting a human brain in a pumpkin. Hell, he threatened his own employer, even if he was an old man (Granted, Blutarch dug up his grandpa's grave, so he probably should have gotten something a lot worse than just Dell telling him to fuck off). Engineer is more than the texan egghead sweetie pie, he is a mercenary for a reason and I would argue that he might be as insane, if not more than, the rest of the team. No sane man would willingly work with a bunch of war criminals if he wasn't also crazy. That's the thing I really like about him. I love playing as him in the game because it represents his character very well. He technically serves a supportive role to the team with his buildings, but he is a killer with a lot of tools in his disposal, With the right amount of training, he can absolutely dominate in the battlefield.

I feel like he's one of the people that underestimate and assume that he's an easy target, but he's a lot more than that. He has a lot of layers that makes me want to learn more about him and what he has to offer.

In Conclusion:

These guys are cool. Lmaooo okay I won't just end it there. I genuinely believe that they're not getting the recognition that they deserve, they've got a lot more going for them if you pay attention. Sure they might not always be the loudest or most prominant character in the story, but what they lack in quantity, they make up for in quality TEN FOLD. They don't have to be your favourite, but you should at least give them a chance. You never know, they may surprise you.

Okay so thats enough of that, I couldn't find a divider above this message, so you're getting this grainy ass gif. Honestly, I put way too much effort on this shitpost lmaooo, but I just wanted to get my thoughts out in a more concise manner. If you want to add more stuff about these three that I didn't mention, feel free to do so. Anyways thanks for reading

[hobunaga]

UPDATED VERSION, thank you @guzhufuren for the additional info!!!

my friend wanted me to make a chart of, Meet you at the Blossom, characters and what their relationship is. Now I don't know everything, I don't even know if I got the names correct but I hope this clarifies a little what is going on here.

here are some clarifications(careful, spoilers)

Xiaobao's parents: Xiaobao's dad found Xiaobao's mom wandering around town one day and assumed she was the daughter of a wealthy family and had lived a really sheltered life(she is). He got her drunk, they slept together and he took responsibility by marrying her and taking care of her.

Tong'en: Now I don't know for sure if she loved any of the men that I attached her to, but they were in love with her so I kinda just added it in case her feelings were genuine or if she was only doing what she had to to survive. The only person I can confirm she truly cared for is Zongzheng Qiyuan and they had a brotherly and sisterly bond only.

Xue Xiaoyu: Now ya'll might be wondering why she has a red line towards Xiaobao and it's kinda given that she has a big crush on him. Her cousin however is his true love so I think she'll put on her big girl pants eventually and move on. Her brother is Xue Lianyu, Xiaobao's best friend. She is also the cousin of Huai'en.

Que Siming and Jinbao: They have 2 names cause in the extra I read, they had changed their names at least once. Jinbao was originally known as Wang Erhu and Que Siming was called Yue Siming. Que Siming was most likely adopted by the doctor whom was caring for him after his father was sentenced for treason and Jinbao was sold to Xiaobao at a young age.

Jinbao and Zhao Cai and Que Siming: Similar to the Xiaobao, Su Yin, and Huai'en jealousy trope, Que Siming's jealousy is mainly centered around Jinbao and Zhao Cai's relationship. Now I don't know if Jinbao has a thing for Zhao Cai, but Jinbao maybe masturbated to Zhao Cai once??? or Zhao Cai ran into him while he was masturbating??? I don't know... if someone can interpret this scene let me know because English is not my first language.

Zhao Cai and Medicine Girl: In Jinbao's side story, Jinbao Marries a Wife, it was stated that Zhao Cai was in a heated relationship with this medicine girl and frequently went out to see her during the time Xiaobao was still sick with the cold needle poison. I don't know if they end up together at the end but it was the only relationship that was mentioned in the story for him.

Shaoyu and Su Yin: So apparently there is a one sided interest in their interactions according to the awe inspiring @guzhufuren . When I read it, I wasn't sure how to exactly interpret their relationship but I can see it now that Shaoyu is just as obsessive and possessive as his older brother is. Good luck getting away, Su Yin!

Shaoyu and Huai'en: Half brothers with a somewhat refreshing ending in the live action that hints that there is a possibility of them bonding later in the future. Now I'm not sure which woman mothered Shaoyu, but I'm going to assume it's the ex empress which makes them half-brothers(well Tong'en only birthed one child so it's a given). Now usually if the mother loses the favor of the emperor to even be demoted out of being empress, that must mean that it heavily affects Shaoyu's standing as crown prince as well. Luckily no other princes were mentioned so it's more likely that Huai'en won't compete for the throne and Shaoyu will still inherit it.

The Zongzhen 4 brothers: Now they're just fucking insane and the only sane one is Zongzhen Qiyuan. Even the emperor is a little cuckoo but hey, that's what stress does to you right? They need to sit down, relax, and chill a little. I'm so glad two of them greatly support Huai'en's decisions.

ps: I'm sorry if I got the names wrong or I didn't name a few of the characters. Either way, I think this is the relationship chart?

[xerotiny99]

Room for Two // No Saint No Saviour #1

Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (#1 in psychopath au) 

Warning: smut, dom!jongho, sub!reader, sociopath!jongho, naive!reader, stalking, very obsessive level of stalking and manipulation, Jongho is a psychopath, so he's cuckoo and desperate, manhandling, masturbating, masturbating to clothes, rough sex, unprotected sex, deep throat/ throat fucking, spit play (just a bit), pussy slapping, use of cuffs and chains. Stockholm syndrome. (Yikes)

Note: this is a little unhinged, so proceed with caution. Also, as per the request and many more options given, I chose psychopath au. Well borderline psychopath. Oops. ps: grab yourself a snack because this is long. :) Not proofread.

Requested By: from wattpad.

Gist: when your best friend's boyfriend decides to move in with her, you're left with no other choice but to find a new place for yourself. Of course, because three's a crowd. You do find a perfect new place, courtesy to your coworker who you didn't know existed till now. But maybe it was better if you hadn't interacted with him at all.

Song rec: I Want To by Rosenfeld.

Word Count: 21,474

  "I hate that you have to move out," your best friend, Na-Ra sulks watching you zip one of your bags.

You heave out a sigh and proceed to your other bag, this one was overflowing with your clothes; it's going to take a lot more than just simply zipping it around. Stumbling through the cluster of boxes, you sit on top of the bag and tug at the zipper. It comes halfway through and then gets stuck. Genius move.

"I have to move out because—" you keep pulling at the zipper, using all your force to close it. Even if it wasn't. "—you and Yeosang are little freaks who just can't keep it in their pants."

"Touché," Na-Ra mocks, leaning back further against the headboard of your bed, which unfortunately you'll have to leave behind, considering your new apartment is fully furnished.

You glare at her, and she pouts, teasing you further on with her quiet mumble, "let me have some fun, babe," her smile widens, "we're in our honeymoon phase, if not now than when?"

You shrug, struggling with the zipper because you were hell bent on closing the bag. Besides, your arm had started to strain and ache under the stress it was subjected to, not that you were going to learn anything from it. Listening to your friend's words, you force yourself to roll your eyes and glare at her.

"You've got your whole life ahead of you to do whatever with him," you hiss through your gritted teeth, "but no! You are kicking me out of your apartment for some average dick."

"Above average," she corrects you, "he's not that small you know." Her voice gets louder somehow, "besides, you yourself volunteered to move out!"

"Yes, because I don't want to be a third wheel. And Gross. That's T-M-I." You emphasise, "I would be the least interested person in your sex life, although some part of me already knows too much. Sometimes I wish I could burn my ears off, because of all that I've heard."

"Does the chaos sound like music to your ears?" she instigates, letting out a soft chuckle; she wouldn't let you know it, but the sight of you wrestling with the bag was certainly entertaining for her. "You're going to rip your hands out if you force it so much."

"Instead of being all smarty pants, why don't you come help me?" you groan, and she giggles softly, hopping off the bed.

She stands by the edge of your bed, gandering around till her heart drops; she'd miss you, and she had made it known to you for the past few days. Rummaging her eyes through the messy room, she suppresses a chuckle and shakes her head. Your room never stays messy, you were more of a perfectionist than keeping everything haphazardly strewn around. Well, you were OCD about all little things around you, which would make sense why you constantly strived for perfection.

Na-Ra walks over to you, stepping through the boxes carefully and crouching down in front of you; the flounce of her dress flutters around her when she sits down and casts you a hopeless glance. Her lips quiver just enough to make you realise how painful her trapped sentiments were. It must be tormenting for her to see you go, after all you two were best friends since high school. Your friendship with her has lasted forever, till either of you graduated from college, and got a job.

"I'm going to save you some tears," she begins, a pout casing her lips, "so, no melodrama. There are no bitter goodbyes, only cheerful farewells."

"This is not a farewell, come on," you assure her with a smile, "we'll meet all the time. I'm literally twenty minutes away from you. Give me a call. Set up a place. I'll be there. Probably, meet for a drink or something."

Her pout softens. Dragging on with her silence, she lets out an amused chuckle before playfully punching your arm. "Of course. How can I forget you don't function without liquor in your system."

"Hey! I never said anything about booze." You retaliate, defending yourself, "it's all on you. Though on the contrary, I think booze is just what I need right now because I've got work tomorrow."

"And what?" Na-Ra continues to laugh, "you're going to meet your new landlord half-buzzed out of your mind."

"As if 'sober-me' would have enough grit to talk to him," you mumble, your cheeks heating up at the mention of your landlord. "I think we both agreed he's adorable as fuck."

"He's cute," she shrugs, "just not my type. Hey, but there's nothing wrong with you liking him."

"I don't like him!"

You huff out, breathless and tired from pulling the zipper close. Taking a deep breath, you slide yourself off the bag and fall on the floor, right in front of your friend who offers you a smug smile.

"Na-Ra, I really don't like him," you state, sternly as so to make a point, "I didn't even know of his existence until Yunho told me he was looking for a tenant to sublet his spare apartment." Pausing shortly after, you fidget with your fingers and heave out a sigh, "and then my desperation got the worst of me. I agreed to it without thinking or looking into his background. But if Yunho says he's a great guy, then he is. Maybe. I trust Yunho."

"You'd have to be some different kind of unbothered and pathetic to not know he existed as your coworker," she snides.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into your unzipped bag, and frowning softly, "don't blame me, he's a tech guy and I'm in the management department. There'd be no reason for us to meet, unless I have any issues with the software or my computer."

"Which I assume you never needed." She deadpans, checking the time on her wristwatch before tapping your thigh in urgency, "well, we better get to work. Is this the last of your luggage?"

"Yep, these boxes and two bags; other stuff has been moved already." You gander at your half-closed bag behind you, "I can't get this bag to close, so guess it's just one now."

"I'll bring it over when I get the time to. Does it have something important?" she questions, and you shake your head, "nothing that I need urgently, just some spare clothes and kinky underwear I stopped wearing after, you know..."

The way you trail off sends an immediate jolt of remembrance in her; she doesn't want to respond to it, but also doesn't want to keep you in the loop of reminiscing those sullen days. You catch the littlest of distortion on her face, the kind which makes her seem like she's sad or melancholic. And you thought this won't be a sad goodbye. You dust yourself off from the ground, given you were thinking about your past; in a way to elaborate, the past you were thinking about was the time when you broke up with your boyfriend. Many would tell, you were the perfect couple, but perfect doesn't seem to cover the improper cracks and absurd excuses—nah, it brings out suspicions. Three years into the relationship and you got to know he had another chick to entertain all along. Heartbroken but not really broken with your dignity, you left him, no matter how much he begged you not to.

In retrospect, you were done being the naive and gullible deer everyone used to their own gain. Not that you could say the same thing about your work life now. Ever since you had befriended a certain person, you were starting to understand the functioning of lying men. The knowledge authentically supplied to you by your work friend, Jeong Yunho. To say the least about him, he was a giant teddy bear, always towering over you and giving you unwanted hugs. Some being bone crushing too. Your friendship was a little delicate, but you were always on good terms with each other. When he heard your woes on your living arrangements, considering you had sieved through most of the details, he quickly came up with a solution.

His response to you was, "hey, if you're in a fix, I heard Jongho is looking for tenant to rent his spare apartment to. You should talk to him."

And your initial reaction was, "Jongho, who?"

It was not entirely your fault to not be up to date with what goes in your workplace; besides, Jongho was a tech guy, belonging to the cyber security team who had a different schedule compared to you. In the end, things do turn out for the better. You were merely an acquaintance with Jongho, the current dynamic being changed from strangers since he called you over to show you around his spare apartment. You couldn't complain much, and to be fair, there wasn't much to complain about either.

The spare apartment was neat, clean, and well maintained, to top it off, it was even furnished so you had nothing to worry about. As Jongho chattered your ear off, he mentioned that he had possessed the apartment from his late aunt, from her will. He didn't know what to do with it since he had already bought an apartment in the same building (after liking how perfect his aunt's apartment was for him) and had settled down properly. It would be an unnecessary bother to move out, given he hadn't just rented it but in actuality, bought it under his name.

Jongho was a sweet guy, he had a great personality, a good sense of humour and his cheeky smile was so infectious. The day you met him, you were totally swept away, not just by his geeky appearance but because of his character. He respected you, your decisions, made you feel comfortable even though you were practically strangers at the beginning—overall he had left his mark on you. The good kind of course. From that day onwards, you and Jongho started talking at your workplace; a new friendship in the making while Yunho left out, of sorts. He did not bring it to your attention, however.

A few more days of talking, frequent coffee breaks spent at Jongho's desk, and the unprecedented lunch 'dates', you were a little smitten with Jongho. Who wouldn't be? Jongho was a dreamboat, fitting to your expectations of what and how a man should really be and foremost, he was the greenest flag from all the stupefying caricatures you had dated in the past. Including your cheating ex.

All that aside, to say you were a little excited to move into your place, would be an understatement. You had been looking forward to it from the day you finalised the deal with Jongho. Okay, you can't really validate your feelings based on how good of a man he was. For all you know he could even be a serial killer, or a psychopath. Well maybe you shouldn't think too dark about it. Or maybe you shouldn't have discarded that thought the moment it popped in your head.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

           "You know, if you had told me beforehand, I would've come over to help you," Jongho says it as a matter factly, smiling at you with the same warmth as he did when you two first met.

And just as that time, he was peculiarly happy and proud; you observed him from head to toe, admiring him and his sense of fashion. Clad in a simple navy-blue cardigan and black pants, he made very little efforts to look this pretty. Not to mention, his black rimmed glasses which were thick and sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. You were pleased with him, and his littlest of efforts. Other than the obvious fact that you were starting to view him in a different light.

"Eh, couldn't trouble you," you grunt while picking up a box from the trunk of your car; pouting silly, you watch Jongho pick one too regardless of you telling him not to. "You're really stubborn, aren't you?"

"What can I say? I don't like doing what told to," he chuckles, his teeth on display, "and what, do you think I can't carry this box, which feels like it's filled with feathers, up five flights of stairs?"

"No, I did not mean it like that," you defend your initial remark, knowing it was a mere request from you to him.

"I'm very much secure with my masculinity, buttercup," his lips twitch to a teasing smile, "though it doesn't make sense to mention it afore you."

"To reassure you, I wasn't questioning your masculinity," you giggle, "it was more of a formality. You know, can't let you do any of my things because you've already done too much for me."

"That's all balderdash."

He waves you off, holding the box in one hand and using the other to close the trunk of your car, while making sure you weren't standing any closer to it. The sound of the slam makes you flinch, in bewilderment however more in fear; his brute strength would be surprising, surprisingly strong to know you'd be helpless against him if he ever tries something on you. Which, a thought, you again considered to be the folly of your mind, because why would a guy like him do anything against your will? Mistake.

The two of you, walk inside the lobby of your new apartment complex, technically it was his too. According to your knowledge, Jongho owned a place on the seventh floor while his aunt's apartment was on the fifth floor. An accented mahogany table sits empty upfront, probably the reception desk or something. Adjacent to the desk, lies a wall with mailboxes: golden doored, metallic numbers of the apartments, and the acrid stench of something rotting. You were taken back by it, by how that particular area reeked of rotting flesh, but the entire place smelled moth-eaten, stale as if. This sure leaves an eldritch sense of horror in you, because at the time of your first inspection, this place was nothing alike to what you're witnessing right now. Regardless, you decide to push it down, not bothered by the fetor, or the forsaken desk in front.

Jongho guides you to the stairwell, veiled behind a heavy looking door; the elevator is out of order, unfortunately. Even after countless complains to the manager, the elevator hadn't been repaired or had any signs of mending. Jongho pushes the door open, grunting under his breath—the door did seem heavy and substantial, no wonder his cheeks were flustered by an inch when he ushered you in.

"Ladies first," he adds.

"Oh why, thank you kind sir." You bow your head a little, joking along with him.

Jongho lets the door close behind you, and continues, "you know, I chose to help you. So, it's my responsibility to make sure everything is perfect."

"I think you've done enough; I have nothing to complain about." You start climbing up the stairs, with him in your pursuit; you glance over your shoulder and offer him a genuine smile, "besides, I was pretty ignorant about...you. To think I didn't know you even existed until Yunho brought it up."

Jongho's eyes darken only for a moment, only so for you to catch a flash of uncertain turpitude in them. Feeling a sense of unease crawl your spine, you stare straight ahead and hasten your pace up the stairs; not so quick for him to get suspicious.

"It's alright," he dismisses, voice sullen, "everything happens for a reason, doesn't it? If your friend's boyfriend hadn't moved in with her, or if you hadn't brought up your living situation with Yunho, I doubt you'd ever have noticed me."

"What's your agenda?" you scoff, "you're making me feel bad about myself."

"Dearest apologies," he mumbles, "I meant to infer that you and I were destined to meet, one way or another."

"When you put it like that, it doesn't make me seem so...selfish." You mutter under your breath.

To your assumption, you must've climbed up two floors; and it confirms when you pass the landing area for the second floor. Jongho is still walking behind you, noticing you, wanting to keep you engaged in a conversation. He doesn't really say anything for a minute however, bating you in the silence of nothing till you heave out a sigh and grow tired of it.

"It's just weird how one thing leads to another," you break the silence, "it's almost like a fate's blueprint, you were ordained to meet each other at this given time, in this given situation."

Noting the hesitance in your tone, Jongho bites back on his concern and questions you diligently. "Are you having second thoughts about the move?"

"What? No!" you're too quick to dismiss him off, not because he had pressed your nerve, but rather because you didn't want to seem ungrateful. "This is the best decision I ever made. Trust me."

"Agreed, otherwise you'd be stuck listening to the very annoying and loud moans of your best friend. I know it infuriates you." He chuckles, "don't worry, the walls here are thick so you won't be needing your noise cancelling headphones anymore."

"That's right..." you chortle along him with, which soon dies to a sudden burst of tranquility upon realising an odd point about him.

You halt in your steps, standing still in the landing between the third and fourth floor, unmoving till he calls out your name.

"Why did you stop?"

You turn around to face him; you were sure he could notice the drain of colour from your face, or even how delicately your lips were trembling to get your words out.

"It's kind of odd how you know..." you drag your words into a whisper, "I never mentioned it, did I?"

You never mentioned it to him before, never told him you wore headphones while going to bed. Was that just a coincidence? Or was it his hunch? Though, on the contrary, was he keeping an eye on you? The latter option just feels wrong, so you fling it straight out the window.

Jongho's face twitches with reluctance for a mere second before his lips curve into a flattering grin. "It's only obvious you'd be using them while sleeping, if your roommates are too loud. Agreed you didn't mention it particularly, but you did tell me that they were stuck in a honeymoon phase. Why else would I even say it?"

"Makes sense," you shrug and continue on with your walk, not giving it much thought anymore.

Jongho heaves out a sigh of relief, appeased by his piddling attempt to cover up his mistake. Nonetheless, he knows he has to use his words with utmost restraint and choose them well before speaking. He can't have you doubting him, suspecting his good character over the silly rashness of his avidity towards you. Like a shadow, he creeps behind you, never letting you know of his presence; he's foreboding, professing predisposition to the ordeal of what he painted as 'work of destiny'. Was it really the work of destiny to get you two together?

Only time would tell.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

             "Cool place, babe." Na-Ra comments, ogling around your living room with her boyfriend strapped to her waist. "Very niche, I must admit."

Her boyfriend, sticking to her waist like some parasite, pouts and lets out a sweet-sounding chuckle, "I agree. A humbling abode for a woman like you. Suits you well."

"Oh, why thank you, Yeosang." You roll your eyes, "I still need to work on some stuff, decorate a couple of crooks and crannies."

"Puh-lease," your coworker's snort resounds from the couch, "you flipped this place over from an abandoned domicile to an elaborate habitat of pink."

"Geez Louise, Yunho," you deadpan, "if you abhor pink just let me know. I'll redo everything in black—just like your soul."

"That sounds like too much work," his brows tuck together while he replies, "and too many efforts. Don't waste them for my sake."

He tugs on the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it further till he reaches second button; Yunho's tall stature sits awkwardly on the couch, his legs spread in front of him, while he slouches just a little against the back of the couch. Lethargy is quite evident on his face, regardless he proffers you a giddy smile and asks you to hand him a bottle of beer. It was his third one of the nights, there were many more to come.

You scoff, moving away from your friend and her boyfriend, to get yourself a drink from the snacks table you had arranged. Picking out two bottles of beer, you hand one to Yunho and settle down next to him. The day was here, the day where your best friend whined on about how you should host a housewarming party; regardless of you renting it. So, there you were, a little after midnight, relieved from your day job, hanging out in your new apartment with your friends. Except for Jongho. You couldn't find him anywhere after work and thought the only feasible thing to do was to leave a voicemail on his phone.

"I think you should really get on with the balcony," Yeosang snides, coming to sit on the chair next to the couch with Na-Ra tucked by his side; he settles down comfortably first and then pulls his girlfriend on his lap. "It has a good view of the city, and the sky. Maybe lay out a carpet, get a swing chair and add some plants to spice it up a bit."

Na-Ra nods her head, "talk about having a perfect romantic setting."

"Guys, I hear you," you roll your eyes, "unfortunately the reins to make any updates around here are with Jongho. I can't do anything without his permission."

"He won't mind the minor changes," Yunho shrugs, chugging a good deal of his beer while making eye contact with you, "bet he'd get on it with you, knowing he has a soft spot for you."

"Bullshit," you mumble, guzzling your beer down, "he doesn't have a soft spot for me."

"Oh, yeah. He doesn't. He doesn't have a soft spot for you and he didn't just help you out with your living situation." Na-Ra speaks up, "he didn't feel bad when you told him you never noticed him in your workplace. And he helps you out with everything and never says no. Yep, that sums it up, he doesn't have a soft spot for you."

"Says a lot about him," Yeosang simply pouts and shakes his head, "one would have to be really oblivious to not notice the signs."

Na-Ra gets up, going to grab a couple of beer bottles, chiming to her boyfriend's remark, "don't worry, she's always been a little naive about those things." She comes back and returns to her place, rightfully in Yeosang's lap and raises her bottle to you, giving the other one to her boyfriend, "it took her two years to realise Song-Wook had been flirting with her. So, I won't be surprised if she takes another two years with Jongho too."

"Damn, kid. Two years?" Yunho snickers, tracing the tip of his forefinger on the rim of the bottle, "two years to fathom a dick had been dallying with you? Well, Jongho better be upfront with you if he wants to have a shot with you."

"Don't you have something better to do?" you glare at Na-Ra first, then at Yeosang, and finally, Yunho. Grinding your teeth, you murmur out a tired sigh, "my love life is one one's concern. And it shouldn't be either."

"You think we won't be concerned after that ugly blowup with your ex?" Na-Ra says, sipping her beer, "that jerk was cheating on you."

"Are we talking about...?" Yunho trails off, keeping his now empty bottle of beer on the coffee table in front of him.

You nod at him, indicating he was on the right track; noticing your sullen eyes, he proceeds to say something, but it's lost in the slightest tremble of his lips when the doorbell buzzes loud. The intercom chimes in next, speaker propagating a man's voice laden in static.

"Hey, it's me. Jongho."

You get up from the couch and march your way to the front door. This seemed weird to you because Jongho knows the passcode to the door already. Why wouldn't he use it to let himself in? Brushing those doubts away, you begrudgingly open the door and find Jongho standing with his hands occupied in holding a small box. The shimmering ribbons on it could certainly provide you with assumptions and predictions.

You usher him in, he mumbles a soft 'thank you' to you before slipping out of his boots and into the house slippers you lay out for him. He's walking right behind you, carefully holding the box in his hands while you guide him to the living room where the others' smiles were hinting at something else. Jongho places the box on the coffee table and sits next to Yunho on the couch; eyeing Na-Ra and Yeosang with much vacillation of his trust, he turns to you and offers you a benign smile.

"My hands were full," he begins, "otherwise, I would've let myself in." Looking around, he notices a couple of things but doesn't voice out his thoughts, instead, he fixates his eyes on you. "Am I late to the party?"

He sounds guilty. You wave him off, striding over to sit on the extra chair next to the couch; bringing your legs up, you pull your knees close to your chest and wrap your arms around them.

"Not really," you reassure him, "we were just cracking some fatuous chatters and nothing else. You didn't miss a lot."

"Well, I hope I didn't," he chuckles and leans over to untie the ribbons on the box he had brought with him. "I'm not so up to date with these gatherings, so I just got a cake. Everyone likes a cake, right?"

Yunho coos, "so adorable of you. A little sweetness is what we need."

"And a heck lot of calories," Na-Ra comments.

"Which you'll be burning off once we get back home," Yeosang adds, and everyone groans except for Na-Ra.

"Please, we don't need your sexual innuendos ruining our peace," you grumble and run your hand over your face. Composing an adorable smile, you glance at Jongho and muse, "that's really nice of you, Jongho. But you didn't have to get anything. This is more like a make-believe party I was forced to host, cause some people here are really stubborn."

You glare at Na-Ra and all she does is rolls her eyes and drinks more of her beer.

"So, you expect me to come empty handed?" Jongho retaliates, opening the box to reveal the cake in it. "Ouch, that hurts."

"I didn't mean that," you whine, defending yourself. "You're playing a very risky game, Jongho."

"And it seems like I'm winning?" he mocks, carefully picking the cake out of the box and placing it on the table. "Well, to your new beginnings in this house."

You watch Jongho as he pulls out a small candle from the pocket of his pants and takes its cover off before stabbing it through the cake. The candle sits in the centre, while Yunho lights it up with his lighter he usually has on himself; Na-Ra and Yeosang are the bystanders, observing, acknowledging.

"Okay, make a wish," Yunho jokes when Jongho brings the cake to you, "not exactly what I expected I'd be saying."

Jongho stands next to you, leaning over while holding the cake in front of you; with a nudge of his head, he brings it a little closer to you and you blow out the candle. And no, you did not make a wish as Yunho asked you to, which you were regretting because you really wanted to make a wish. Applause resounds from your guests, Na-Ra cheers a phrase which is incoherent, and inaudible, considering how lost you were in Jongho's eyes. The warmth of hazel in them is contrasting, a lot—but there's avidity in them, bringing you closer to him. You're leaning, inching your way to him to touch his lips, at least your heart was forcing you to.

"Let's cut the cake, shall we," Yunho announces, making the two of you flinch and pull back.

"You guys have fun," Na-Ra pipes in, however, dejected. "I have to be early for work tomorrow. Duty calls, sadly. I'll be around quite often. So, don't be disheartened."

"I'm not," you deadpan, but soon soften yourself when Na-Ra and Yeosang get up from the chair to leave.

"Yeah, before we leave, I got your luggage," she winks, hinting at something and you do catch up on it, "I left it in the trunk and thought I'd have Yeosang bring it up while leaving."

"Oh, more luggage?" Yunho questions, "how many bags do you have, jeez."

"Just enough for my clothes," you shrug, "under some unforeseen circumstances, I had to abandon this one there."

"Yeah, by unforeseen you mean haphazard work of stuffing all your clothes into one bag, so the zipper doesn't close," Na-Ra jokes, both of them now at the front door. She lets out a soft chuckle, "okay, we better leave before you murder me with your eyes."

"I wish it worked that way. But if you don't visit me often, then I might," you threaten her playfully, getting up from the chair and going to engulf her in a warm hug.

Na-Ra embraces you tighter to herself, returning your enthusiasm; you keep yours and Yeosang's hug a little short. The two of them are out of the front door when Jongho interrupts your last whiling farewells.

"I think it's better if I tag along and get the luggage myself. You won't have to make a double trip up." He stands next to you, by the open door. Offering a small smile to Yeosang and Na-Ra, he too then slips in boots and leaves with him.

Na-Ra waves you off energetically, appearing a little disappointed with how things had to end tonight. Nevertheless, she doesn't let it show on her face as she's leaving with Yeosang, and Jongho in their pursuit. You flash them one last smile and shut the door; a sigh parts your lips regardless and sulking you return back on the couch next to Yunho. He hums a soft tune before grasping your shoulder, pressing his fingers to massage gently before sliding his hand to your back.

"You're not alone," he whispers, "but I can tell why you'd feel lonely."

"Five years living with her," you continue, merely in a mumble as you look at him, eyes showcasing your glum heart. "Five years and we separate now. We've been childhood friends, you know. Never went by a day without each other."

"Nothing could've prepared you for this day," he shrugs, pulling you close to his chest, giving you a much-needed sympathetic hug. His scent dithers your senses to nothing, a bit calming but that's all it was. "Female friendships are precious, endearing even."

You nod, tracing your hand along his which were wound tightly around your waist; you were starting to creep up on the sense that this hug wasn't anything close to friendly. Though, at the moment, when you were too lost in dwelling on your memories with Na-Ra, you didn't mind staying a bit longer, not that you cared since he was trying to blur the line of friends and lovers between you two. It wouldn't come off as a surprise, you were well aware of Yunho's adoration for you, but maybe you always pushed it aside since you viewed at him through nothing but a friendly gaze.

The serenity in the moment is too loud, too rapturing for you to notice someone walking in through the front door. When the gentle lock of the door clicks, is what makes you flinch and pull away from Yunho, eyes straining across to find Jongho's silhouette standing at a distance from you two. He holds onto the handle of your bag, knuckles going white from how tight he held. Squeezing till his fingers are all around the handlebar, he fixates his glare on you, both of you for that matter. A haze of dark crosses his eyes, submerging in the warmth they once held, and disappearing almost too quick for you to puzzle out. His lips curve, almost in a dainty manner before they're delving deep into his cheeks; that maniacal smile, the touch of just a little crazy was driving fear into your spine.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asks, rolling the bag out of his way, before fixing his eyes on Yunho.

The older doesn't make a sound, not even a as he scrambles to his feet and dusts his shirt off. "Yeah, no, nothing at all. I was just leaving."

It seemed like he was weighing his words carefully, trudging to the front door before grabbing his coat from the rack next to it; Yunho offers you a gentle smile, yet it was indiscernible to the course of his and Jongho's interaction. He shrugs on his coat and leaves without uttering a single word, stranding you bemused amid the living room. Jongho's apparent smile had turned a little inane for you.

"He didn't have to leave in such a rush," Jongho says, "anyway, are you in the mood for some wine?"

The sudden contrast in his words and demeanour causes to rift in between, driving countless doubts in your mind till they're diminished to nothing by Jongho's gummy smile. His eyes are trained on you, intensely piercing as if to manipulate your mind into his own. Striking out the possible cynicism in your head, you nod and curl your lips frailly so to reassure him.

"Sounds good to me."

"Of course," he chides, "I believe I have an unopened bottle lying somewhere around in the kitchen."

"Oh," your lips round themselves, voice barely audible. "That was yours? I recall seeing it in the cabinet above the stove; I did not open it and instead chucked it in the fridge."

"No worries."

He waves you off, disappearing in the dimly lit hallway and making his way into the kitchen. After listening to some shuffling around in there, his footsteps muffle and ascend from the hallway, emerging out with two glasses for wine and the bottle itself. Instead of placing the glasses and the bottles on the table, he nudges his head in the direction of the balcony; the balcony adjoined the living room with full length doors sliding open and close. You follow his suit, walking a step behind him.

Cold shivers run down your spine when he leads you out on the balcony; a scenic view awaits you, that is if you consider the dilly dally of empty streets as scenic or even close to it. The moon is hung high in the sky—a cloudless sky. Stars are prominent in the dark, and the moonlight shudders along to illuminate your surroundings. Jongho helps you down on the floor, laden with a dusty carpet, probably serving its purpose from the beginning. Taking a beat to himself, he settles next to you and places the bottle and glasses in between you two.

"It has always been a perfect place to share wine with someone," he murmurs against the night wind, which kisses your face and stings a little. "Needs a little revamping, however. You know to make it a little more mawkish."

"I'd agree," you relate, looking around till your eyes are back on him.

He doesn't make a sound; save for the mumbled grunt he lets out while unscrewing the cork on the wine bottle using his car keys. Pop. The cork comes off, slipping out the rim. Jongho's lips twist in a lopsided smile as he pours you a glass first and hands it to you; preparing the other glass for himself, he keeps the bottle aside and clinks it with yours. You take a sip, relishing the bittersweet taste of the wine before bringing the glass away from your lips. Jongho stares at you a minute longer than he had intended to, peering at you to notice all your details. He adores the tiny scrunch of your eyebrows, or the way your lips tremble when you wince out from the unsweetened taste of the wine. Taking a sip for himself, he stares straight ahead; not much to the view, nonetheless he admired the dusky sky of the night.

You had an inkling that you were biting back on, a petty notion about him acting out on his envy when he saw you with Yunho. It was a friendly gesture on his part, wasn't it? Still and all, you couldn't figure out the exact sentiments of Yunho's hug—it'd be little strung out of you to consider it being more than a chaste sentiment. Howsoever, you couldn't resist overthinking and drowning yourself in it, till you're turning to him and biting on your lower lip.

"What you saw with Yunho..." you mumble, getting his attention.

His eyes are affixed on you, lips contorted to a frown, "hey, it's none of my concerns. I've seen you to share some physical affinity. Wouldn't have been surprised if I were to catch you two making out."

Even if his words were inspiring, you couldn't help but notice the abstruse tone laced to them, or the fact that his eyes were dismal and fatalistic. You wonder, or it does seem to astonish you how easily and deliberately the colour in his eyes changes, almost in a fraction of a second.

"I'm not that close with him," you shrug and take another sip of your wine. "Agreed, we've been hanging out a lot and he keeps me company at work, but there's nothing between us."

"And you thought I'd be interested in knowing that because...?" he instigates, taking you off guard.

You stumble in your words for a second, observing how his thumb rubs circles on the glass he holds. Murmuring to yourself, you look away from him. "Because, maybe, I think, or speculate that you might..."

"I might?"

"You might have a crush on me."

There you said it. Your heart palpitates so hard in your chest, your mind is a blur, and your voice is trapped in your throat; could you even recover from whatever his response might be to your unsolicited assumption? He would have to speak to know what he really thinks of your blabber. But, upon hearing nothing from him, you tilt your head with remaining courage in yourself and find him staring at you instead.

"What?"

He chuckles, his shoulders convulsing with it before he chugs down the entire glass of wine; he leans closer to you, too close to let his breath fan your cheeks. Even so, with his lips ghosting yours, you couldn't comprehend the diminished distance between you two. What would it take for a kiss to happen in this moment? A simple tilt of anyone's head? Or a leap of faith?

"I thought I was getting ahead of myself by not confessing," he simpers, "everyone knows except for you. It was so obvious."

His wispy words were hot on your cheeks. Sadly, the glare of moonlight on his glasses made it hard for you to read what his eyes entailed. You could be assuming right now, but you were starting to gamble on the kiss. Does he mean for it happen? Do you mean for it happen? It's a perfect setting overall, cold night, moon in the sky, stars glimmering, and all while the city falls asleep. Undeniably beautiful. Something out of a fairy tale.

"I mean, I'm an airhead. Who didn't even know of your name before..." you mumble under your breath and tuck yourself closer to him, keeping your glass aside.

"I think we should take a veto on the whole 'not knowing you before you offered to help' trope." He laughs out softly, bringing his hand up to cup your jaw and then eventually your cheek. "I'll admit. When I saw you and Yunho sticking to each other like that, I was jealous. Only a tinge. Felt it rage in me. It would've pensively killed me if you two had..."

"Kissed?"

"Yeah." He tugs himself to you, putting his glass to the side to cup your face in both of his hands now. His warmth spreads under your skin, tickling your senses till they're numb. "Maybe, the longer you wait the sweeter the fruit tastes."

You hum along and extinguish the mere distance between you two; the touch of your lips is cold at first, but the warmth of his palms endearing your cheeks makes up for it. The mere brush of your lips drives you wild, enamoured with the thought of kissing and sucking them. Without much hesitance, Jongho pulls back and hooks his finger under the arms of his glasses to flick them to a side. And once they were off, he dives in to capture your lips in a kiss ever so sensual for you to decipher.

His hands slide to your waist, placing themselves on the either side to help leverage his body into yours. The moment your body collides with each other, the untapped heat comes alive and inflames your soul. You could hear the minor shuffling of your clothes; of the shirt he wore and your lace top barreling into one another. Jongho's hands tighten on your waist, pushing himself closer to deepen the kiss; you angle your head to make it easier for him, easier for him to slip his tongue in your mouth.

Stifling on a giddy titter, you bring your hands to his shoulders and then gently tug your fingers around his neck. Though, in meagre seconds, you're dragging them across to tangle them in his silky locks. Jongho lets out an amused laugh, though it gets muffled when his tongue drones over yours and rubs against every corner of your fervent mouth. You're far too gone to realise how delicate his touch was, how delicately one of his hands had slipped past the hem of your top. His fingertips were searing on your skin, sizzling with a want, a desire to caress and kiss every inch of you.

Regardless of how heated and passionate the kiss was, or how intense your feelings were for him, you pull back. Your heart grows heavy, stubborn to the increasing coldness between you two; Jongho's glides out of your mouth, a few saliva strings joining your lips together. He doesn't let his disappointment show on his face, he doesn't seem disappointed at all. There's a sheepish smile on his face and it sort of, recites the tunes of his heart.

"I wish..." you trail off, breathless while resting your forehead against his, "I wish we could let this escalate. But..."

"But?" he whispers, both hands now under your top, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin. Comforting.

"I'm not sure about us, yet. I don't want to dive headfirst into this and later on realise that we weren't meant to be together." You speak your heart out, however, it does baffle Jongho, only to the slightest.

You thought he'd throw a tantrum, argue, make you realise your worries were nothing but piddling hoaxes. But he doesn't. He doesn't go along with your fears and offers you a warming smile, the archetypal one which makes you forget about your woes and terrors. You could call yourself dramatic, but with guys like Jongho, your insecurities always resurfaced; guys like him, the ones who put you above everything else, make sure you're loved by them, are rare. Your trauma from loving all the wrong guys is still very much alive in your mind. It goes without saying, you'll need time to heal, or get used to Jongho's love.

"It's okay, moonpie." You chuckle at the allotted nickname, and he continues, "you still have scars from your past, and as much as I know, scars don't heal. They leave ugly marks behind; and nothing about you is ugly to me. Never in my eyes. You can take your time, figure out what you want and be determined. Having a loveless relationship, which you only agreed to because you didn't want to hurt my feelings, would be equivalent to being thrown in a prison for a crime you didn't commit."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

           "The shower was working just fine yesterday," you whine, agitated by the struggle of buttoning the cuffs of your shirt.

"It's fine," Jongho assures you, "I've called the plumber. He'll look into it, make necessary repairs and fix it before you're back from work. Okay?"

"Thanks a lot, Jongho," you mutter in urgency, still struggling with the buttons on your cuffs. "Thanks for letting me use yours."

"No problem." He adds with a dainty chortle, "you're welcomed any time."

This was turning into a nightmare, the way your clothes weren't cooperating with you, just as the shower didn't in the morning. You would have no reason to be in Jongho's apartment, in his lavish and spacious bedroom if not for your shower breaking down early in the morning. These series of unfortunate events were predestined to fall through on an important day for you, on the day you were expected to be punctual, professional and comme il faut. Only a few people from work were alerted about the meeting with the board of directors, you were one of them. Jongho wasn't likely needed, even having received an email from the company saying so, he didn't really bother to attend the meeting and took a sick leave. And looking at him, all hale and hearty, you surmised he just didn't want to be at work today.

"I can't believe you lied about your sick leave," you roll your eyes, bending over to catch your reflection in the mirror of his dresser. "I mean, this meeting sounds crucial and there you are, skipping on it like you don't care."

You watch him shift in bed, propping himself against the headboard while holding a book in his hands; his glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, yet he uses his forefinger to push the further up. There's an unreadable expression glinting in his eyes, and of course, the glares of his glasses make it hard to discern. He doesn't really answer your question or show slightest of interest in what you had been yapping about. Because, he was solely focused on your figure, on the way your skirt hugged your hips and carved out your body, how the top few buttons of your blouse were undone to expose your cleavage and how tempting you appeared to him as you were bent over to fix your earrings in the mirror.

"Cat got your tongue?" you glare at him through the mirror, finding his gaze fixed on you too.

He shakes his head, almost on an instinct, "too focused on reading this book."

"The book you've kept closed for the past thirsty minutes?" you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. For a fact, you were already aware of his thirsty eyes lurking on you.

He clears his throat, "I'm reflecting on the parts I've read."

"Of course you are."

"I'm not lying." His cheeks turn red as you keep your eyes on him. "Whatever, aren't you getting late for work?"

"Thanks for reminding me again," you roll your eyes, yet again, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before stepping away. "How do I look?"

You wait for him to give you his feedback, impatiently dragging your hands across the lower half of your blouse, which was tucked in the risqué black pencil skirt hugging your butt and thighs. He wouldn't have a chance to say otherwise, he doesn't really have to because watching how sensual your professional wear was, he bites back on a wince and shakes his head.

"Are you sure you're dressed formally?" he asks, keeping his book aside on the nightstand next to his bed. "It might send a wrong message to the board of directors."

"Are you talking about the blouse?" you muse, "it's not that revealing. Come on."

He heaves a defeated sigh, watching you tug at the collars of your blouse to let your chest jut out even more. "Fine, you look absolutely stunning. Still professional. So, best of luck."

"Thank you." You wink at him and trudge away from the dresser, "in any case, I'm leaving. You call the plumber and get my shower repaired."

"Yes, ma'am." He gives you a two-finger salute and giggles softly. "Now, go. You've got an important meeting waiting for you."

"Right, right."

With that, you leave his room, eventually slipping out of his apartment and taking the stairwell to yours. It has been couple of weeks of now, if you were keeping a count, then it was now your tenth week since moving into Jongho's spare apartment. Things have been better, they're smooth; your situation has improved a lot, compared to living with Na-Ra and her boyfriend getting it on every single time of the day and night. Every dark cloud has a silver lining, your silver lining was your new apartment and hanging out with Jongho a lot, but your dark cloud would have to be how Yunho had suddenly distanced himself from you. Of course you had never had any issues with him, you were close, always have been, but there was no logical explanation to why he had turned a cold shoulder to you, out of nowhere.

You aren't bothered by him as much, not because at least you got to see him at work and talk a little (confined to only work related). Getting in your apartment, you grab your necessary things, one of which was your purse and a work file, and hastily leave too. No second look overs in the mirror, or no breaks for grabbing a quick snack from your refrigerator, you're out of your apartment in a blink of an eye. You were in a hurry, and it was starting to show.

Jongho throws the sheets to a side, kicking his legs off the bed and strolling casually around and out of his bedroom; he was astounded by your presence, a lot. He was however glad to help you out when you needed it the most. Even if it meant he had to create your problems to offer his help. Now, you might not want to go on Jongho's innocent mien, or the front he puts on for his helpless victims to gain their trust and resolve. Jongho, in the society's minds, was this perfectly shaped and well-behaved person; though to the contrary, one who has witnessed his darker, steeper, creepier parts of life, could tell he's one son of a bitch.

A sociopath is what they call the people who are severely antisocial, with no regard for morales. Or, as what Jongho's therapist had once called him. Jongho had attachment issues, it rooted from his childhood, amongst his family; it grew and thrived in his mind, until his obsessions took over. Jongho would obsess over people. First, it was his mother, then his girlfriend and now you. He was obsessed with you, very much inclined to be with you at all times.

You thought Jongho extended a helping hand out of sheer desperation or love? Think again. Everything had been planned, by his evil mind from the start, from the day he had seen you in a cafe with your best friend, from the moment you walked past him at work; Jongho had always had his eye on you at work, obsessed with you, and moderately aggravated by your ignorance towards him. It might seem coincidental to him, having seen you in the cafe the first time, then finding out you were his coworker in the same company—a mere coincidence. Or fate?

Jongho had his planned nailed down to the T. He knew your girlfriend's boyfriend would move in with her, well considering he had allegedly constructed it to happen, he knew you would find a new place to move in because of their ruckus, and of course, he knew you would turn to Yunho, who mind not, was his accomplice in this whole thing. Ha, and you thought Yunho genuinely wanted to help you. Silly you.

Turning a corner along the long stretching hallway, Jongho enters a room; he closes the door shut behind him and walks on further to the various screens blaring on a wall. There are approximately fifteen screens, all showing the black and white reels of your apartment. Yeah, he had fitted several cameras in your apartment before you moved in, at various angles, getting all good shots of you. He sits down on the chair placed in front of the screens, pushing his glasses up, he starts going through each of the screen for your silhouette. Knowing you aren't in your apartment, he still double checks, wanting to be sure of it. Once he knows you really not there, he gets up from chair, tugs on the sleeves of his cashmere sweater and smirks devilishly to himself.

He has a perfect opportunity now, to sneak into your apartment and indulge in his darkest of desires. Standing in front of your apartment door, he punches in the code and enters; he makes his way around, leisurely strolling till he's in your bedroom. Ah, the broken shower, which wasn't really broken—he had only turned its water supply off. Jongho's smirk keeps growing into his cheeks, a sense of satisfaction over taking his heart before his lust and detrimental obsession kicks in.

Sauntering in your bedroom, he comes across your laundry basket strewn in a corner. Clothes overflow, the flap of the basket remains half open, and bits of your lingerie sticks out. He crouches down on his knees, pushing the flap open to see it for himself. The strap of your lacy bra was tucked out of the basket, under which he hooks his finger and gently pulls out; his gaze admires the flimsy fabric, the floral pattern of the net and how it would cover nothing of your skin when you'd wear it. He was picturing it, shamelessly pitching a tent in his pants. He couldn't help it. Keeping your bra aside, he fishes through the rest of the clothes and finds your lacy knickers too; so, your bra and these panties are a pair, he thinks to himself before pushing himself off the ground and going to sit on the edge of your bed. Not before he makes sure to shut the blinds of the window to keep his actions hidden behind the scenes.

One of his hands held onto your panties, and other clutched the sheets under him; he brings your panties close to his nose, to get a good sniff of your scent, a scent which had driven him to his madness. His cock strains in his sweatpants, painfully confined in his briefs. He wants to pull it out, he wants to do the unthinkable, all for you. Jongho does exactly what his mind had been playing on replay for the past two minutes now. Fantasising about you, and your body, he reaches down and starts palming his cock through his pants, making it harder as he thinks about you. He then tugs at his sweatpants and briefs, his cock springing out to hit his lower abdomen. Glancing down, he knows how hard he had gotten by just your clothes, and it was pushing him to his edge. He probably isn't even embarrassed to admit the truth about what he was going to do.

Jongho wraps his other hand around the tip of his cock, his thumb rubbing circles on the tip before his fingers slide down along the shaft. Stroking himself, he gets himself harder than before, stiff enough to jerk himself off. He relaxes in your bed, arching his back. The palm of his hand engulfs himself entire, and keeping his pace steady, he starts rubbing it back and forth. Veins on his shaft bulge out in a few seconds, and he hisses at the cold and calloused sensation of his hand.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, his voice a mere whimper as he brings the tempo of his hand up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

He screws his eyes shut, tight enough to picture more of your naked body, to imagine himself getting sucked off by your pretty little mouth; he's seen every inch of your bare body, every time you'd be in the shower or would soak in the bathtub. He's in love with your body, so much, so madly. Sweat starts dripping down his forehead, a few strands of his ebony hair sticking to his skin, while his lips tremble chanting your name. He has your panties pushed up against his nose, taking eventual sniffs of it to drive himself crazy.

With a few quick paced strokes, he switches his rhythm and drags them out, going around the tip to massage it a little; precum starts dribbling out from his slit, and his hand spreads it along his shaft. His cock, glistening with his precum, is still very stiff and eager for the release, yet Jongho keeps his pace slower than before. He takes a deep yet trembling breath in, convulsing his lungs to the sheer pleasure he was deriving out of this. His face was flushed, cheeks red, lips quivering, eyes shut closed and his skin shining with a fresh coat of sweat; he needed more, he needed you. Loosening his fingers around his cock, and pulling his hand away, he brings his other to wrap your panties around him. The soft and warm feeling of your panties pushes him into his carnality, inching him closer to his release.

Tightly wounding his fingers now, he picks up the pace and goes hard; his moans are beginning to fill up the room, his eyes are swelling with tears till a few cascade down his cheeks, staining his skin. He's close. So very close. And the way he was dragging your panties up and down on his cock, was starting to get to him. With few more concise and fast paced strokes, he starts bucking his hips into his hand, fucking himself better. He knows he'll come undone any second now, realising how badly his cock had been pulsating in his hand. Everything blurs to nothing when he twitches, his body shuddering as he lets go. Streaks of white cover his hand, bits of it running down your fingers and a lot of it drenching your panties.

"Oh, sweetheart," he breathes out, his whimper sounding melodious to the empty room as he peels his eyes open. Heaving a wispy laugh, he glances down at his hand, full of his cum and your panties ruined by it. "You'd look so pretty squirming under me, while I'm...oh, fuck."

His mouth falls open, jaw slack, as his vivid imagination was starting to make him hard again. There's still time for you to get home, he wouldn't mind going another round. This time however, he keeps your panties and picks out your bra, spending another hour of his time masturbating and fucking himself to your thoughts, to the very vile imagery of you in his mind.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

          You were pacing back and forth, chewing on your nails as Jongho sits on the couch, shifting his eyes to your oscillating body.

"My lingerie is missing." You mumble, showing no signs of stopping in your movements. "The red set of my lacy underwear is gone, disappeared into thin air," you spell out with panic lacing your words, "what kind of pervert would do that? How is that even possible? I locked my door, there was no way anyone would have broken in to steal my underwear."

Jongho hums, relaxing back in the couch and feigning to be in deep thought. He doesn't utter a word. A criminal would keep his mouth shut under the fear of being unraveled. Jongho has your underwear, the red set of your bra and panties is lying in his wardrobe, sullen with his cum and reeking wildly of his scent. He's been jerking off to them every night since he got his hands on them, it's vile, it's disgusting but it's his way of loving you.

"This is maniacal, Jongho. I'm scared of living here now," you stop in your steps and stare at him. "I'm scared." The last of your words sound more like a whisper and that makes Jongho fake his concern even more.

He gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water, or what you think he was getting for you. You sigh and sit on the couch instead, placing your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands; you were frustrated, annoyed, frightened of your situation and how it was affecting you. Jongho walks out in mere minutes, bringing a glass of water to you. He hands you the glass and you take it without any doubt or having a reason to doubt him. Taking eventual sips, you feel yourself calming down bit by bit. In no time, the glass is empty and sits on the coffee table in front of you. Jongho watches you keenly, resisting the very urge to smirk. His straight face showed no emotions, no signs of impatience that he felt in his heart, but staring at you with his ravenous eyes, he only masqueraded his concern.

"Feeling better now?"

"I guess," you shake your head, returning back to having it slumped in your hands. "But this is outrageous, Jongho. Who could—just, I need some time to recover I think." You mumble, and your head was starting to get heavy.

Jongho notices your unease, and how dizzy you were staring to get. On the other hand, you were confused as to why you were suddenly starting to feel the discomfort; this issue wasn't that serious to begin with, yet you were starting to feel the aftermath of stressing out too much. It's really concerning to you how your lingerie got stolen, only one pair of it, however. You hadn't noticed it missing till after a few days from your important meeting, when you were searching for it to throw it in the washer.

You feel numb, your head throbbing with an unwanted ache till you're seeing stars in your eyes; breathing gets harder for you, your lungs burning and your throat suffocating you. This was sudden, but it was bewildering. Your vision turns blurry, your lips shaking and your heart pounding in your chest. Jongho stands in front of you, doing nothing, standing still on his spot till he's sure you're knocked out. And you are, in few more seconds, darkness shrouds your eyes, your mind switching off and your body falling limp to the side on the couch.

Was there something in the water?

You were never so comely with darkness, nor were you so fond of feeling lonely and scared. Not remembering how you ended up in this situation, feeling yourself lying in something soft, something constraining your movements and the kind of familiar scent tingling your nose. Squinting your eyes, your distorted mind starts waking up; the dull ache in your head isn't gone, but it isn't too intense to make you groan in pain. When you're fully conscious of your surroundings, you find yourself in a comfortable bed, way too comfortable; the mattress has sunken to your weight, the sheets on your body are and soft and warm. In the dimly lit room, you notice the details and find everything quite too familiar. A room, with a window and its drapes drawn over, with a dresser and a closet, with a layout so familiar.

When it finally creeps up to you, your body jerks off the bed. Sitting upright, you scrunch your brows together and find it astounding to be in Jongho's room. What had happened that led you here? Did you pass out and he brought you to his apartment? But then why would he bring you to his apartment? That doesn't make sense. He could've tended to you at your own apartment. This certainly doesn't feel right.

And it shouldn't either.

Not when you find one of your hands shackled in chains. A broad cuff is wrapped around your wrist, the metal cutting into your skin, and a long chain dangles from it to the headboard of the bed. What the fuck was this? You start panicking, your breath hitching and your mind going point blank; your anxiety starts getting the worst of you when realise you're still your old clothes. The same spaghetti sauced stain tank top and shorts you had worn when you called Jongho over regarding stolen lingerie.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, what the fucking shit is this?" you grunt through your gritted teeth, wanting to cut off the cuff from your wrist.

You're still panicking, caught up in the daze of escape instead of keeping your senses perched on other things. Let's say for the surrounding. It's beyond your comprehension to understand when a certain man walks in, muffling his footsteps against the floor and shuffling around to stand by the edge of your bed.

"Oh, you're awake, now. Are you, moonpie?" he murmurs, "I was starting to get tired of waiting around for you."

You could discern the soft pout on his face under the haze of dimmed lights. He leans over, towering with his broad shoulders on your body, making you feel small and puny.

"How are we feeling?" his worry is bittersweet, an underlying intention evident to your mind. "Hopefully, better. You've been asleep for a day or two." He shrugs his shoulders as if the words mean nothing to him, "who's keeping a count? Your friends? Yunho...?" he heaves out a chuckle, shaking his head, "probably. No, it's right. They must be concerned. Actually, he must be really worried considering he was in on this."

There's a beat of silence, and you decide to fill it in, having been unbothered by his jeering phrases. "Jongho, what is this? What kind of sick joke is this?"

You tug your hand, the chains shackling and creating a buzz around, a sound he was so delighted to hear from you. He traces his thumb across his lower lip, his eyes glazing only for a second on your face before they rummage to gander at red marks on your wrists. The cuff had really eaten your skin off, in a way, it looks tormenting and painful—something he surely finds himself relishing.

"A joke?" he mocks, "Moonpie, why would you think any of this is a joke? I'm doing all of this for you."

He sits by edge of the bed, and you scamper to press yourself against the headboard, wanting to be away from him or his touch even. This was something out of a movie, a low-budget thriller movie where the protagonist gets trapped by a psychopath and is subjected to all kinds of torture by them. How ironic is that? You were stuck in that situation yourself, wondering what Jongho's mind was constructing in every passing second. Given your interest in watching all sorts of documentaries, you knew you had to play your cards right, choose rightful words to get your way in this.

"For me?" you gasp on a breath, "Jongho, this is fucking crazy. You're fucking crazy—"

"—am I? Am I fucking crazy to think I can protect you from the world?" he growls, somewhat keeping himself composed, "I've seen how the others look at you, with their lust-filled eyes and the untamed desire they have for you. I can't let them taint you too. You're far from being corrupted, never in my eyes."

And there it was, the flash of ambiguous darkness in his eyes, the way it acridly makes your spine tingle. Even if it had lasted for mere seconds, you knew where this was headed, you were starting to figure him out; vaguely, but gradually. You needed to be levelheaded and cautious.

"All those days and nights of watching you, reading you, getting to know you, they were some of the best times I've ever had. You didn't even know I was there, like a shadow lurking behind you. Everywhere you went, I was there. I couldn't get enough of you, never actually." He adds, "I don't want to hurt you, I would rather die than hurt you. I just want to keep you close to me, away from the hungry stares of your so-called friends. You'll be safe here."

You hadn't realised when his hand had traced up your leg and rested on your thigh, but maybe you were too immersed in his words and thoughts to notice anything at all. Too immersed in his words and thoughts, the raw sentiments of his demented mind, you were in fact drowning in the aftermath of believing him, of ever interacting with him.

"You'll always be safe here, moonpie." He rubs circles on your thigh, thumb pushing into your flesh, "I'll go get something for you to eat. You must be hungry. You are hungry, aren't you?"

Your lips were sewn shut, heart practically in your throat at the way his tone and voice had changed. The clear shift from being obsessive to concerned caught you off guard. Jongho offers you a sweet yet deadly smile, his lips curling like the Cheshire Cat before he walks out of the room and leaves you in utter chaos. Confusion, despair, disgust, and your nicking anxiety had already started to get the worst out of you.

To think Yunho was into this all along, shatters your heart even harder. Now that the room was completely filled with silence, you could hear the minute shuffling happening outside. Jongho is probably preparing the food for you, and as much as you hate to admit it, you were indeed hungry. Your stomach growls at the thought of food, mindlessly thinking about what he had or was bringing for you to eat.

After a few minutes of waiting, the door rattles to him entering inside; he's soft on his feet, but his presence is heavy and intimidating. When he stands by the edge of the bed, holding a tray in his hands, he offers you a small smile before placing it down in your lap. You notice the contents then, a meagre meal of carbs, protein and fibre: pieces of chicken steak, some sautéed vegetables and mashed potatoes. To accompany the food, there was a small can of soda.

This was a filling meal, he really had thought it through, from the food itself. How long had he been planning this? He must be enjoying the sweet taste of his victory, which menially isn't anything but the decadent fulfilment of his efforts and hard work.

Jongho sits down on the edge, giving you enough space; even so you were pressed up against the headboard, not wanting to be any closer to him. The tray in your lap is warm, and you could vaguely discern the mist rising up from the food. Had he cooked it? Or had he just ordered it from outside? Besides that, your worst fear was getting drugged again. Had he drugged the food?

"I'm not hungry," you state, softly.

"But you need to eat, moonpie."

"I don't need anything from you."

He grunts, "you're really impossible to deal with."

Steering himself away from you for a mere moment, he lets his head hang low and shakes it; an amused chuckle follows, reverberating till the time stands still and you're taken back by him.

"Jongho!" you call out, the chain rattling as you brace your hands against his chest.

He had leaped over to you, shoving you into the headboard till your back hurt. One of his hands held down your shoulders, by pushing it hard against your chest. While his other hand grabbed your jaw, forcing you to stay in place.

"You should listen to me," he grunts in your face, pressing his fingers and thumbs into your cheeks to get your mouth to open. "If I tell you to eat, then you eat it, damnit. Don't make me say it twice. Next time, I might not use my words."

He lets go of you, crawling away from your body and checking the tray of plate, whether it had made a mess on the bed or not. Lucky for you, his enraged actions weren't as haphazard as you'd expect them to be; if there had been a mess of food in the bed, who's to tell what he'd do to you. In odd times as these, it's certain to agree with every wish of his, oblige every word he speaks and never go against him. He is volatile, waiting to blow up in your face any moment if you even move wrong. So, you have to weigh and measure every consequence before talking to him and carrying yourself around him.

Using your free hand, you pull the tray properly on your lap and pick at the food with their bare fingers. No spoon, no fork, no knife. He knows how to play. And he knows it well. Standing up on his feet, leaning over the edge of the bed, he strokes your shabby hair away from your eyes and offers you a gentle smile. In his mind, he hadn't been violent towards you. Acting as if he hadn't just pushed you up against the back of his bed and threatened you with his malignant anger.

"Good girl, now was it so hard?" his fingers caress a side of your face, slipping down your cheek to your lips. "Don't make me use force against you, moonpie. I don't like it. I can't stand the thought of bending you to my ways. Just...be a good girl for me, okay?"

You nod, picking out a piece of chicken steak he had cut and putting it in your mouth. It was hard to chew, no matter how soft the meat was in your mouth. Swallowing it was going to be even harder.

"Finish it, hmm?" he insists, stepping back till he finds himself sitting on a lounge chair by the door. "I'll wait until you finish everything on your plate."

Already having a hard time to swallow, you somehow manage to nod at him. Little by little, piece by piece, with your greasy fingers you finish most of the things in the plate. You still had a spoonful of mashed potatoes in your plate, the vegetables and meat were almost done with too.

"I've got all day," he sighs, dreamily as if, he wasn't getting tired of watching you and it was starting to show. "I'm not going anywhere. You can take as much time as you need."

Only the thought of him staring at you all while you tried to finish the plate, gave you an icky sensation. Your back was covered with sweat, your clothes were soaked in sweat too. Disgust was the last thing you wanted, but it was rather a feeling sticking to your spine ever since you had gained your consciousness.

"Done." You mutter, a sense of victory taking over your mind but soon dissipating into glum and hopelessness; he had gotten up from the chair, taking short strides toward you.

He was inspecting the empty plate, closely enough to not miss out anything. How sickeningly frightening was that? Even worse, how much of a sicko was he? You could have never guessed of his freakish predicament in the beginning, could've never imagined there's a devil hiding behind the warm gummy smile of his. Your current situation was pointing to the otherwise. On the spectrum of luck, you were stuck in the bottom half where misfortunes awaited you.

"Ahh, good girl." He mutters under his breath, patting your head before taking the tray out of the room with him. "I'll be back soon. Don't make a sound."

You were left alone in the dimly lit room, a room harbouring no light of sort; the window was draped shut apparently with black curtains, and the only source of light for you was the lamp on the nightstand next to you. As one your hands had been cuffed to the wall, you couldn't reach out to the nightstand or the drawers below it. You were hopeful the drawers might have something of your use, something to get you out of the cuffs.

Rummaging your eyes further, you find the dresser shrouded by darkness in a corner. The setting of this room had been tampered with, you'd know and are sure of it since you were in here before. This was Jongho's room, the very room you had used to get ready for your meeting once. You remember the dresser being situated next to the bed and not in that corner; you also recall using the bathroom adjoining this room, meaning the door which you keep second-guessing about, leads to the bathroom.

Besides the grim darkness, and melancholic sentiments, you were starting to panic. Your mind kept flooding with constant fear of death, or even worse, being assaulted by an unhinged man—you've seen it all in the documentaries before. Maybe, watching them wasn't a total waste of time. Regardless, you kept going back to your friends, and Yunho. The man who seemed so harmless at the beginning, had now been placed under a different light for you. How could you be so naïve and gullible? How could you trust strangers so easily?

You knew this wasn't the right time to guilt trip yourself; these kind of mistakes happen and can't be avoided either way. The weight on your shoulders is already anchoring you down when you start getting drowsy too. No doubt the food was drugged. Was it really? Or were you just feeling sleepy after eating the carbs? The worst part of it was, it doesn't take you more than a minute to fall asleep, your body falling limp in the bed, against the mattress while the sheets pool around.

This has to be the worst. Most definitely.

You had no clue how long you were out for, but when you came to terms with your conscious, your body was aching immensely. It could've been because of your sleeping position, how strained your body was when you slept curled against headboard. Though, you were less bothered about your body and more concerned about your bladder; you wanted to use the bathroom, urgently.

Bracing yourself, you proceed to heed out his name. At the beginning, your voice does not even reach your own ears, and takes you countless tries before knowing you could yell out his name.

"Jongho...!" it sounded a little weak, however you could hear the door squeaking at the hinges when it's opened.

Jongho walks in, looking concerned and bewildered, his eyes were wide, and his lips trembled like a loose leaf on a branch. "What is wrong?"

"I need to—I need to use the bathroom," you mumble.

Letting out a sigh, he walks around the bed and pulls out the top drawer of the nightstand. He retrieves a pair of handcuffs, the ones usually used by cops; approaching you, he nudges his head for you to hold both your hands out. You oblige as told to only to find him cuff your hands together before unlocking the broad metal cuff around your wrist which was adhered to the chain on the wall.

"Come on," he tugs on the cuff, pulling you along with it to another door.

You knew the door led to the bathroom, so when he unlocked it with another set of keys, you weren't so surprised to find yourself in it.

He pushes you inside, and closes the door, standing on the other side before hailing out to you, "make it quick. And don't even think about doing anything funny."

You gulp, audibly so. Quick on your instinct, you start looking around, hoping to find something of your use. But to your unseeming surprise, the cabinets were empty, the drawers were locked, and the cabinet mirror was a reflection of your harsh reality. Your skin was starting to dry, peeling at places, especially on your hands; your lips were chapped and bleeding, there were bags under your eyes, your hair was greasy and smelled a little. Everything was so...disgusting to you. Even your own reflection. The mirror was a glimpse to your future, no matter how much you tried to, you weren't getting out of here. Never out of his sight, his mind or his prison.

Now, you had completely given up, having no strength in you to continue fighting or think of ways to escape him. You finish relieving yourself and wash your hands, splashing some of the water on your face too. Hearing a knock bang on the door, you flinch and tremble in fear.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah," you whisper, pulling yourself together and hastily walking out.

Jongho stands right in front of you, arms folded on his chest and his eyes narrowed onto you. "I'm not going to cuff you again, you're free to move around this room."

He must've weighed all the consequences of keeping you tied in the room. As much as that is very thoughtful of him, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being trapped here all day and night. At this point, what was day and what was night? You couldn't make out the time, the windows were bind with dark curtains, there were no clocks in the room for you to even know the time or date. All you could rely on is your own sense of calculating and counting the days. Or maybe, you could just ask Jongho.

The man helps you get to the bed before dragging himself to the door; standing by it, he offers you a small smile before mumbling, "rest well, okay? I'll be back tomorrow with breakfast for you."

So, it was night after all.

You absentmindedly reflect to his smile with your own, getting in the bed and snuggling in the warm sheets. The door closes behind him as he leaves you in the dark, and once you're sure he's out your earshot, you cry. You hug your knees and cry, till your cheeks are stained with sheer agony of your tears.

This was hell.

And you really needed to get out of here.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

          You were starting to keep a track of his behaviour; not knowing how many days it had been since you were held captive by him, you still wanted to figure out how long you had been here. It would make sense for you to count the days from your last encounter with him, though for that, you would have to know how long you were knocked out for when he drugged you. Even so, counting from the time you had finally regained consciousness, it seems like it had been more than two weeks since you were here.

More than two weeks. Right. And yet, none of your friends had tried searching for you. Or maybe they had, they were on their way to seek you out. Although, Jongho was always one step ahead of everyone, he must've distracted them. The thought of your best friend and her boyfriend did come to your mind, but as usual, Jongho's advances would make you push them to a dark corner and never let those thoughts resurface.

Keeping a track of the days was easy, you only had to count the number of meals he was providing you. Jongho gave you three meals a day, the breakfast would be simple enough, consisting of an omelette and sometimes rice, the lunch and dinner were both proportionate of carbs, fibre and protein. You were glad he was offering you good food. But that was least of your concerns and nothing to be glad about.

Jongho allowed you to take a shower six meals before; thankful to that, you felt a bit fresh and dressed yourself in neat clothes. Again, the clothes had been bought by him, just as he did with every other thing. The clothes you wore were simple too, a cotton dress reaching to your calves and your brand-new underwear inside.

You were nicely dressed and showered today too, sitting by the edge of the bed and waiting for Jongho to come in with your lunch. Over the time, as irrational as it would sound to any sane person, you were starting to feel something for him. Affection? Maybe. Your soft spot for him was brainwashing you, not that he had already done with a few simple tricks, but you were starting to warm up to him.

Jongho made sure to make you realise how bad the outside world is, and how safe you are here with him. He never touched you without your consent, never made you feel threatened again; because you were starting to obey his words, his wishes, you were becoming his trained pet in a way. In the span of two weeks, you couldn't even recognise the change that had taken over you. If you could compare your old self to this one, you'd be stunned beyond measure.

But it wasn't that bad.

You listen to him. He doesn't threaten you and you don't get punished. Suffocation takes over you every time you try to reminisce of the day you had missed to obey him and had met with a ruthless punishment. As much as it is detrimental for you to remember it, you know the trauma won't leave you. Ever. You faced the punishment because you did not finish your food one time. He dragged you to the bathroom by your hair, filled up the bathtub with water till its brim, and drowned you in it. You could feel the water penetrate your lungs, shorten your breath, give you a dizzy headache. After the torture was over, he cradled you in his arms like a child on the bathroom floor, feeling guilty and ashamed of what he had done to you.

He never punished you after that. Ever. Even raising his voice at you made him feel guilty and embarrassed, so he spoke to you in humbling tones. Days were different after that incident, you thought he'd be more erratic than usual, but to your surprise he wasn't. Jongho has a good game, a very strong one to alter your perception on him. You couldn't pinpoint when it was, but you were surely feeling some type of way for him.

"I'm here, I'm here," he sings, pushing the door open while bringing in a tray of food. "I agree, I'm late. But I had a couple of things to take care of. Are you hungry?"

You nod, licking your lower lip. "I am. I thought you weren't going to come today."

"Babe, I'll always be here for you," he chimes, setting the tray on the bed first. Pulling the lounge chair closer to the bed, he sits on it and fishes out a key to unlock your cuffs. "You've been a really good girl for me, I'm thinking we won't be needing these anymore."

You took a breath of relief. The thought itself was freeing, no confinements on your wrists, no struggles, no pain, no marks on your skin. He lets the cuffs fall down on the floor, clinking softly against it while he tugs at your hands and pulls you in his lap. However, the glare on his glasses makes it hard to read his eyes, you never know when he might change his mind, and considering that, you wanted to be prepared to take on anything he flung at you.

"Jongho..."

"Shush..." he buries his face in the crook of your neck, biting and nicking your flesh till bruises start staining your skin. "I've been waiting for a long time to gain your trust. Craving your touch..." he intertwines your hands together, "I won't do anything unless you're ready. I want you to feel safe around me."

"I do," you mumble, leaning back into his touch, "I've started to feel safer around you than before."

"Is that true?"

"Do you want me to prove it?"

"How would you prove it, babe?" he asks, licking up a stripe on your neck, his tongue warm and slick with his spit.

You slip out of his lap, falling on your knees in front of him to slot your body perfectly in between his legs. He spreads them wider, letting you accommodate the space before running a hand through your hair. A sly smile stretches his lips, making you gag a bit, regardless, you let him do what he wanted to. His hand cups a wide of your face, before sliding down to grab your chin and pull you up only a bit for your lips to meet.

The kiss was hungry, wild, desperate, his lips were sucking on yours with an unquenchable thirst, while you pushed yourself into him to deepen the kiss. Your hands were on either of his thighs, but out of nowhere, you find the warmth of his own grab yours and force them behind your back. He holds your wrists in one of his hands, using the other to swiftly pick up the fallen handcuffs. You could hear the muffled sound of metal clinking, alerting you. Unfortunately, you weren't as quick to pull yourself out of his trap, or his arms; he places the cuffs on your wrist and tightens them.

His teeth sink into your lower lip, biting hard till it bleeds into his mouth. A satisfied moan rumbles in his chest, and he pushes himself away only a bit to flash you a conceited curl of his blood-stained lips.

"I like it this way," he murmurs, running the tips of fingers on your arms behind tugging on the link between your cuffed hands. "Don't worry too much...I won't hurt you. It's neither that I don't trust you. But I better be safe than sorry."

You stifle the urge to make a retching sound, wanting to flee the moment he's too immersed in whatever you had to offer. In other perspective, you nod your head and peer at him, putting on a helpless ruse and pouting so that he would continue the broken kiss. He did not needed to be told twice, however. His lips are back on yours, biting, sucking, lapping, both of your teeth clattering against each other until he cups your face and forces you to open your mouth. Instantly, his tongue slithers in your warmth, sending chills down your spine. You knew he was eager and desperate, very much so to hear you moan under him.

The vagrant and insatiable hunger in him was clearly evident in the way he was devouring your mouth. Stroking the back of your neck with one of his hands, he tilts your head behind to give him better control over you and his tongue thrusting down your throat. His other hand stays warm on your cheek, slowly and gradually falling to your shoulder while his fingers dig in your skin through the flimsy material of the dress.

He takes a deep breath, pushing himself away from you to realise what he was doing and what he wanted to do next. This time, you did not need to know it twice; the way his eyes lingered on yours for a minute longer before trailing down to his crotch, that told you many tales of what he wanted you to do. Swallowing thickly, you suck on your lower lip to resist the dwelling dread in the pit of your stomach. On a much contrary note, you were starting to get aroused and wet, your panties already drenched with your arousal. What did it take for you to be on your knees for him? His lustful eyes? His ravenous desire to make you his? Or, in fact, were you growing reminiscent of the time you had spent with him prior to this catastrophe that struck you?

"Open wide for me, okay?" he smugly whispers, keeping one hand on the back of your neck while using the other to unzip his pants.

You're helplessly stuck in between his legs, counting your breaths till you'd be suffocating on his cock; it wasn't a pretty picture in your head, but just the thought itself made you even more wet. This would have to be some sick sort of fantasy for you. Why else would you be thinking of erratic things towards your captor? In the dark side of your mind, the way Jongho had behaved with you in the past days, made you feel all sorts of things. Maybe it was the lack of human interaction, or the fact that you were away from your friends for so long, that your mind had fallen in love with the idea of what Jongho was.

Jongho tugs at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down with a few more tugs till they're pooling around his folded knees. You catch the glimpse of briefs tenting against his erection; again, something going hand in hand with disgust and lechery.

He brings his hand to your jaw from the back of your neck, and thumbs your lower lip, forcing you to open your mouth. You yelp, letting the pain of his fingernail digging in your fleshly lip, while watching him pull his briefs down. His cock springs out, eagerly. Jongho muffles a grunt while trying to push his briefs down and once he was done, he nudges your head close to his crotch.

"Be a good girl for me, like you have been for the past days."

His voice seems drunk of lust and craving, seeming raspy and heavy. You lick your lips, pushing yourself further this time to let the tip of his cock brush your lips; you don't open your mouth to take him in the instant, rather you stay, keeping your lips shut to let him rub his cock all over your mouth. The feeling was distasteful in some way, until the warmth of your mouth engulfs the littlest bit of his cock. Only the tip of his cock pulsated in your mouth, and you licked at the slit to elicit a soundful moan from him.

His touch burns on the back on your neck, holding it tight to keep your head in place while he bucked his hips into your face. Continuing with it, inch by inch his cock plunges in your mouth, till the tip hits your throat.

You gag, almost immediately. "Nnnghh..."

"Fuck." he mumbles, throwing his head back while his mouth falls opens. He even takes a moment to throw off his glasses on the floor, not bothered in the slightest to know if they landed smoothly or not. "Your mouth feels so good—so good around me, moonpie. So soft, so warm...fuck."

Leaving you to gag on his cock, he picks up the pace of his thrusts; every time he pulled out, it gave you a fraction of second to breathe, though when he pushed back with all his strength, you felt like you could suffocate. Your lungs burned, aching for air, your hands were strained behind your back, and your mind was foggy to realise any of it. What your conscious could filter was pure pleasure and desperate need for attention.

Jongho's cock was buried deep in you, stretching out the walls of your throat; you raise your tongue to the roof of your mouth, licking along the underside of his shaft as he continued to thrust in and out your mouth. The seething urge to bite down on his cock was immense in your mind, and even if you did, you knew it would not grace you with prettiest of consequences. So, you let that thought drift and oblige, doing what you had only learnt from watching porn.

"Want to breathe?" he asks as if he was going to do you a favour by pulling out.

Regardless, when you nod, he does pull himself out of your mouth and gives you a minute to breathe. You cough, feeling your throat itch while drool coats your chin and mouth; saliva strings dangle from your lips to the tip of his cock, which apparently had gotten redder and appeared to gleam with precum.

"Jongho..." you mumble.

"What? Is it too much for you?"

You shake your head, "I need you too."

"You need me, huh? Then show me what your mouth can do." He grumbles, nudging the tip of his cock against your lips.

You are back to wrapping your lips around him, lowering yourself down his veiny shaft and choking as it hits the back of your throat again. This was probably the most you had gotten inside your mouth. Now, tasting the saltiness from his precum, you roll your tongue on the underside of his cock. Licking and lapping while he rammed himself in and out of your mouth.

"Ah, fuck," he growls, the sound resonating from his chest as he throws his head back and his brows draw themselves in together. "Who knew this mouth was—oh, fucking hell—who knew this mouth was capable of driving someone wild."

You moan while his cock his confined in your throat, constrained to feel the mere vibrations of your whimpers and groans. Tears start pricking at the corners of your eyes when his pace picks up again; he bucks his lips, thrusting steadily to retain his rhythm. Too lost in the pleasure, both of his hands entangle in your hair and push you against his pelvis, your nose crushing on his pelvic bone and the bits of his pubic hair tickling your skin. It was rough, but pleasurable in a way.

While Jongho fucked into your mouth, your knees were tired from scrapping against the carpeted floor, your arms were numb from fettered behind your back. His cock slides deeper in your throat, slotting perfectly with the concise thrusts. Your lips were starting to sting from the stretch, as compared to the beginning. But minutes were starting to turn into hours, and you were still getting throat-fucked by him.

As his moans grew louder and the air in the room got heavier, you came to terms with the reality; Jongho peered down at you, a thin sheet of coat on his skin shimmering in the dim lights, while his brows remain stitched on his forehead. His lips trembled to speak something, but before he could even get his words out, you felt his cock twitch. He was close to his edge, and the thought of him cumming down your throat was least likely in your head.

Regardless, you couldn't do anything about it since his hands had already restrained you from moving your head back. Jongho's thrusts became placid and loose, surrendering to the pressure of his orgasm. Though, he doesn't give into the temptation and rather pushes you off; he pants heavily, letting his chest heave up and down. You were breathless too, but the way your throat had been abused, you start coughing from your lungs. Your chest burns, your throat has gone sore, and you couldn't feel your arms at all. Spit, drool, whatever fluids your mouth had, they were all staining your chin and lips. The opulent strings of saliva were connecting your lips and his cock, correction, his veiny and thick cock, which had fucked the hell out your throat.

For a man like him, his cock is sure girthy and thick, lacking in length however that couldn't be any of your concerns since he had a great technique.

How pathetic you were. This man has you captive, he's bending you to his ways and benefit, and you're gushing about him. Jongho seemed so harmless in the beginning, especially when you had no idea of his existence. Now, looking back to those days, it all plays out to a fever dream. Unlikely. Unfortunate. And, vague. Knowing him had bitten you in the ass, making you realise how careful you needed to be around people.

"I had imagined things—I had fantasised of the ways I'd use this mouth," he breaks your trance, hooking his thumb in your open mouth before pulling you up by it.

One of his hands comes quick to wrap around your waist as he picks you up; he guides you on his lap, your dress fluttering till he despairingly pulls it up to your waist. Your drenched panties exposed to his eyes, while you're adjusting yourself on his lap, making sure his cock hits your lower stomach.

"I hope it didn't disappoint you," you smile, hazy and clearly intoxicated with pleasure. "My mouth...my mouth can do wonders."

"Don't doubt that," he grins, placing both his hands on your waist, "but now I need to know what this little body can do..."

When his words are dragged into a mere whisper, he slides his hands to the back of your dress and tears it down. The sound of them tattering against his force, fill up the room, not that the melodies of your pants and grunts had already created a ballad; the damaged pieces of your dress start to slip off your body, revealing nothing but your lingerie. Jongho basically ogles at the sight, wasting no time in ridding you of your bra and filling his hands with your supple flesh.

"I used to see this body every day, aching to touch," he whispers, blowing air on your hardened nipples before swallowing one of your tits whole in his mouth.

"To shuck," he muffles his words, teeth sinking in your skin as he keeps kneading your other tit. "To phinch..."

His words were still discernible. Pulling back, after leaving his teeth marks around your tit, he smears some of his spit on the tip of his fingers and pinches your nipples. The coolness of spit was tantalising the rising warmth of your body; you were grinding on his bare thigh, letting his cock rub against your lower abdomen. He was rock hard and that was driving you insane. His hands slip from your chest to your back, resting in the curve before sliding further down to cup your butt.

"Jongho, please..." you whimper, bucking your hips into his in a desperate need of release.

"Yes, darling," he chuckles softly, rubbing his thumbs on either of your buttcheeks before giving them a gentle squeeze. "You're going to get it. Have patience."

Squeezing your ass tighter, he lays his palms flat on your skin and offers it a good hard smack.

You wince at the sting searing on your skin, "fuck—that hurts."

He didn't care.

Not giving it much thought, he proceeds to slide your panties to a side, keeping the other hand still on your ass.

"Christ, moonpie. You're dripping. You've even ruined your panties." He lets his middle finger trace your wet slit, rubbing it slightly to get you off.

Unconsciously, you start grinding on his finger, wanting to feel more of the friction and the demeaning pleasure you were seeking from it.

"Jongho, just fuck me already." You desperately drag out the movement of your hips, his finger sliding in and out of your slit before it protrudes into your cunt. "Hmm, fuck."

"I don't think my finger would be enough for you."

He shakes his head, snapping the straps of your panties with one meagre tug and letting the torn pieces fall off your thighs. It gets you moaning again, first you were high on the lust after sucking him off, and now, his raw intentions of tearing everything off your body. Without hesitating, or heeding you of any warning, he aligns his cock with your cunt; you take the hint a second later, pushing yourself forward for the purpose of ease.

He had no problem slipping into your tight cunt, after all, your arousal was flowing out like water; you were sure, as his cock inched in you, your juices were dripping down your inner thighs, leaving a shimmery trail behind. You were not prepared to endure the stretch from his cock, definitely not, regardless of your arousal coating every layer of your warm flesh. However, Jongho bottoms out the moment you sink lower onto his lap.

"Fuck, this cunt is a little tight for me," he groans, smirking at you.

"Shut up," you say out of breath, already struggling to adjust to his size.

He wasn't big, but he was girthy, stretching you out quite well. Taking a deep breath, you notice the mellow ache dissipating into sheer pleasure, and you start moving. Jongho bites back on a moan, watching you through his half-lidded eyes. He puts his hands on either side of your waist, giving you a leverage to increase your pace. You start off with rolling your cunt onto his crotch, letting cock stretch you out even more before riding him.

Jongho grabs your jaw, tight enough for his fingers to sink in your cheeks before pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in bloodthirsty kiss. The fervent heat shows in the way his tongue pokes inside, in despair of tasting your mouth; he heaves out a satisfied moan into your mouth when he catches up on the traces of his cock on your tongue. In a way, it riled you up, making you go harder.

The kiss breaks apart with Jongho pulling himself away, a smirk curling his lips in devilry, while his eyes are fixed on yours.

"You better watch your mouth," he warns you for what you had said before, "I have different ways to ruin it. Considering—ah fuck."

Not bothered to listen to him, you were chasing your orgasm, switching from rolling to bucking your hips up and down on cock. You lifted yourself and then sank back, every time, it gave you a feeling of emptiness before you were full again; the tip of his cock would ram deep into you, but not as deep as it would go if he tried to thrust himself into you.

"Playing a risky game, are we?" he mumbles, still holding your jaw and forcing you to open your mouth. Gurgling a good amount of spit in his mouth, he aims it at yours and the cold wad of his spit trickles down your throat. "I know how to tame a brat like you."

He lets go of your jaw and places his hand on the small of your back, supporting your body as it rocked up and down on his cock. You increase your pace, straining your hips almost as the light in his eyes is swallowed by darkness. It wasn't the first time you had come across noticing such ungodly indication in his eyes. He'd frequently show you his true colours, his true intentions, his raw emotions and the wicked schemes.

"Yeah? Then you better fuck me—better fuck me like you mean it." You whimper, your body shuddering.

Nifty tremors spread under your skin when he bucks his hips up, thrusting his cock into you. He plunges himself deep inside, a visible bulge now forming on your mound and on your lower abdomen. You did not expect yourself to prompt him so badly and quickly, though whatever it was that had gotten him on edge, you weren't complaining.

"I better have you making a mess on my cock, now."

With that, he increases the pace of his thrust, ramming his cock as deep as he could and eliciting the perfect melodious moans out of you. At this point, it was safe to say that you were no longer sane; you were never sane to begin with, no sane woman would let her kidnapper fuck her into the oblivion. You were letting Jongho do exactly that, letting his cock wreck you with almost no dignity as you ride him. Or so you thought you were. Jongho ceases his movements, keeping his eyes on you to know your rhythm and need.

And as he waited, scrutinising and perusing your tearful eyes, one of his hands comes clashing down on your cunt, slapping perfectly over your mound and slit; he waits a beat to notice your reaction, content with the way your jaw was open slack, and your eyes were rolling in the back of your head. Who thought it would make you mewl? Having his cock stuffed in you was one thing, but having him slap your bulged out cunt, was another. Both were pleasurable, but the latter was sending you to paradise of pure bliss.

Smirking to himself, he prepares to slap your pussy one more time. The sound of your skin and his fingers meeting was ravishing, echoing in the room along with your loud whimpers, which would soon turn to cries. Jongho absolutely loved watching you cry, he loved the way your tears stained your cheeks and how red they'd get after; he continues to proffer slaps to your cunt, all while bucking his hips into you. He had found his rhythm in doing that, alternating between thrusting his cock and smacking your cunt.

"Jongho, fuck—that—that fucking hurts," you cry, closing your eyes to let your tears cascade down your cheeks.

This was too much for you to bear, the immense pleasure piling on your body while bit back on the urge to release. Your body lurches into his chest and you rest of your head on his shoulder, realising he was still clothed on his upper half; not bothered by it, you too, resume rolling your hips into his, earning a mellifluous moan from him.

"If you keep doing that, I'll cum," he grows in your ear, pressing his lips against your temple as you laid your head on his chest.

His arms were around your waist, giving him a better grip to thrust into you; within seconds, his pace becomes animalistic, not faltering one bit. A familiar knot ties itself in the pit of your stomach, hot and tight, just waiting to come undone by force. You let out a small scream before pushing yourself back from his chest and looking at him, pleading him to end this suffering. He knew what he was doing, or had been doing, he was prolonging your orgasm, making your lower belly ache with desperation.

But now it doesn't seem that way. Keeping his pace steady, still wild and raw, he plunges deep into you to undo the tension in your stomach. You heave out a series of breathless moans, before giving into the temptation of release, finding your juice splash around his cock and dribble down your inner thighs. A bit of your orgasm drenches his briefs, while a few drops squirt on his chest, soaking the shirt. You were so done for, already aching to compose your breathing.

The hard part's over. But, feeling Jongho's cock pulsate intensely with every single thrust, your body starts coiling again. Familiar kind of heat rises in your gut, crawling up your spine and before you could even realise, you were preparing yourself to cum again. Back-to-back? It was something difficult for a guy to attain, yet here you were. You were sure the both of you would be releasing at the same time. Confined in your velvet walls, his cock numbs your rationality, heavily striking at one specific spot till you're crumbling in his arms. You heave a deep breath in, chest convulsing erratically when the wave of your second orgasm overcomes the aftershock of the first one. You've done it again, made a mess on his cock while he still stayed buried inside you. The feeling of being filled up to the brim, while your juices trickled down his cock and his skin, was causing your body to spasm.

Reeling out of the pain and pleasure, you find Jongho smirking at you, letting out voiceless grunts and snickers to belittle your conscious; cumming for the second time, without him trying to overstimulate you, was certainly a victory on his side. Jongho's cock twitches one last time with long and hard thrusts, and in a second's time, he's releasing himself into you. The warmth of his seed coats your walls, squirting a little deeper in your lower gut, while he slowly starts to pull out. Gradually, he slides out completely and holds you close to his body.

You were out of energy to initiate anything, already lethargic and sore. Exhaustion gets the best of you, and the only thing you remember before passing out, how dirty and slick you felt, how his cum was all over your cunt and your inner thighs, how pathetic you were to let this happen. Of course, the post orgasm clarity was making you feel guilty and rather than confronting it, you let it demean you while he stroked your back, fingers caressing your skin ever so lightly to help you relax. For a meagre second, your body eases into his, your head falling onto his chest as you collapse on him; his half-erect cock rests on your stomach, slowly going limp with the passing time.

"You were such a good girl today," he coos, a sole finger tugging at the links between the cuffs on your wrist. "Maybe it's time we got rid of these altogether."

"After all, you won't be wanting to escape now."

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

The very selective memories of him were echoing in your head; the first time you had bared yourself in front of him, let him have his way with you, the time he concluded you would never want to get out of here, away from him. And as much as you'd hate to admit he was right; you were starting to regard your old plan of escaping his clutches. To be honest with yourself, you had been gone beyond the point of return. Because every time he came to your room, you were hopeful you'd fuck, and your hopes were turned to reality when he'd fuck you to the ultimate paradise whenever he came to drop you a meal.

Basically, you had gotten used to him. As much as the pavlov's theory, every time he entered you room with a tray of good food, you'd be on your knees to satisfy him. And that did not disappoint him. At all. The two of you had gone beyond, diving headfirst into this dynamic where either of you relied on each other's body to sate your mental dwelling. You were never the one to complain, neither did he, not when he was getting to use in every way, he had desired from the time he had first laid his eyes on you.

Though, it was a forlorn mistake to give yourself into him. There were wicked consequences of those actions, leading to what seemed like addiction from both of your sides. You don't know how long you had been with him, months maybe? But after that one day, the very first time you had let him touch you in all the sinister ways he had planers to, you were madly into him, made to believe he was the only one capable of keeping you safe from the outside world. Pathetic.

To be sullied by a man like him, was to be ashamed and to be burned to ashes; you were embarrassed to admit it, your captor had stolen your heart and locked it in his cage, and the key to it was his six-inch girthy dick you'd drool over every time he was with you. Yeah, to conclude, you were his cum-slut, taking in every inch of his cock whenever he got in the mood to fuck you. Seemingly, you felt dead inside when he'd not show up to your room, feeling guilty and disgusted in yourself, because why else won't he come to you? He needs you just as much you needed him.

The concepts of days and time were all mangled for you; having no idea how many days or months you had spent with Jongho, you sit quietly in your designated room. You were waiting for him of course, because your biological clock had also been hampered with. Your heart would know when he'd come and when he'd go, when he'd want to fuck you, when he'd take efforts to clean you and give you aftercare. This surely was fucked.

You hear muffled sounds from outside, some clattering of dishes, some clinking of cutlery and another man. It was strange, at first you believed you were hearing things, that you had finally gone mad trapped in the dark room. But, when the voice booms for the second time, you were sure there was someone else in this house apart from you and Jongho. And it was a man. A man you had familiarised yourself at your workplace for months.

"Where the fuck is she, Jongho?" Yunho's voice sends chills down your spine, as it's too powerful to be heard from the other side of the apartment. "I know you've kept her here."

"She's not here," Jongho speaks up, and his muffled voice is followed by the sound of plates crashing.

"Listen here, you little shit. I never knew of your fucking intentions before; if I had, I would have never talked to her about you." Yunho's growl is loud, shattering your eardrums, for some reason, you could picture him clutching on Jongho's collar, forcing himself into his face as he continues, "I practically served her on a silver platter for you. So, if you still think your life is precious, tell me where she is."

"Yunho, you've got it all wrong. I don't have her." Jongho's persistent with his lies. "Look, I'm stressed too. She's been missing for three months already, everyone's worried about her well being. It's not just you..."

"Don't bullshit me!" Yunho screams, his voice coarse and deep. "I know she's here..."

After that you couldn't hear any of their voices or their yells, it was only sheer silence. What must've happened? Curiosity gets the worst of you and slide off the bed to press your ear against the door, wanting to listen a little closely.

Nothing.

There was pin drop silence on the other side.

And you feared, amongst the dwelling serenity, the door rattles quite harshly, causing your body to flinch and you take step back. Every nerve of your mind was consumed with fright, and sheer terror; you panicked, anxiously waiting for the door to be knocked open by someone of the two. Partly, you were scared to find Jongho on the other side. But, if it was Yunho, as you thought he was the one confronting Jongho, then you'd be relieved.

But...

Would you really?

If your memory serves you right, he was an accomplice in Jongho's crimes, helping his way to you. So, would you really trust him? Would you be relieved to find once he barges in through that door? Would you be willing to leap into his arms and hug him? The time would only tell because the hinges of the door had fallen on the floor. The person's brute strength had treated the door like a cardboard sheet, and it easily falls over, thudding against the floor.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, breathing ragged and your lips quivering; you take a few steps back, stumbling to the bed as a silhouette walks in.

"Oh, god. It's really you." You were sure that was Yunho's voice. "Fucking hell, we need to get out of here. Okay...here, take my hand."

Through the corners of your tearful eyes, you find him extending his hand over to you. Hesitations knocks your heart, but the remaining clarity of tour consciousness coaxes you to take his hand. It was Yunho after all; the very tall, handsome man from your work you could rely on for everything. To hell with your doubts about him, if he's here to help you, then maybe you should trust him. And trust him is what you do. He's dragging you out of the room, guiding you down the hallway to the living room.

Yunho's broad back covered you from witnessing a still scene in the living room. When he halts all so suddenly in his steps, you prevent yourself from colliding into his back and lean over to gaze at him in confusion. And your confusion grows to sheer horror when you find Jongho lying on the ground, blood pooling under his body which seemed to only grow with every passing second.

"What the fuck..." you mutter under your breath, your heart shattering bit by bit as you take in the view of your so-called lover lying lifeless on the floor. "What did you—what did you do, Yunho?"

The said man turns to glance at you, shaking his head as his voice turns grim and serious. "I'm trying to save you. This is nothing—the depths I would go through to keep you safe..."

"You—you...moonpie, don't leave me," Jongho's words are caught in his throat, moreover, he's disgruntled from all the pain.

Yunho's already tugging on your hand, having it intertwined with yours as tightly as he could to make sure you won't fall back into Jongho's trickery. He was right, knowing you would pity the man who had captured you and held you captive for months, you would pity the criminal because he was nothing short of kind to you.

In actuality, Jongho had done nothing wrong to you, right?

You shake your head, wanting to stay behind to help him, but to your despondent heart's desire, you couldn't get yourself to snatch your hand from Yunho's grip. Jongho's clothes were drenched in blood, his shirt soaking the crimson shade as much as it could; he was stabbed in his chest by a long shard of ceramic, probably from the mess of broken plates on the ground. Yunho keeps dragging you to the main door, but your attention was all on Jongho, how listlessly his eyes fluttered, and the slight tremble of his lips was heart wrenching...till it turns to a sullen smile, only widening thereafter.

Why was he smiling?

You were growing concerned.

It was then when you were forced to turn around, when you saw his eyes close forever, the contrasting crimson against the marble floor growing by twofold; he was long gone, and that sure as hell put you in a state of panic. Yunho's fingers dug into your skin, showing no signs of easing out, not until he had you in the passenger's seat of his car and him behind the wheel. It was nighttime. The moon was high struck in the sky, and the stars were nowhere to be seen; this was your first time witnessing the moon in so long, that everything felt foreign to you. The fresh air, the sounds of the crickets chirping, the empty street, the spot where Yunho's car was parked, all of it was so out of the ordinary that you were suffocating. The reality was tough to digest, but you still couldn't fathom that you were out of that sunless room, out of the turbid silence and hearing things you thought you weren't capable of.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Yunho starts inspecting your body with a haste, tugging at the collar of the dress you were wearing and studying your skin.

"I'm fine," you mumble back, comprehending the sound of his voice and his touch.

"What the fuck..." he grumbles, finding your skin littered with bruises and cuts, all the hickeys from your time together with Jongho.

The cuts weren't exactly deep, and Jongho would only leave them behind for the purpose to intensify the pleasure between you two. They were almost healed, with murky scabs forming already. You wanted to push Yunho's hands away from you, wanting him to stop perusing your body as you were ashamed to show it to him.

"What were you thinking?" he shakes his head, pulling himself back to loosen his coat from his shoulder. He wraps it around you, and you start to shiver; not because you were cold or anything, because it was your first time feeling genuine affection instead of the feigned one. "This is atrocious."

"How did you find me?"

"The better questions here should be, are you okay? Did he do anything to you? What...what the hell happened?" he sighs, "we were all so worried about you." Taking a deep breath, he turns right ahead, and you do too, "the cops were useless to us after two days, you know. Because Jongho had made sure your case appears to them as a runaway and not abduction."

You quietly listen to him, facing the front and watching the night pass you by. Everything was still new to you, after months of spending your time confined in a room, of course it was natural to feel strangled in the open air.

Yunho grips the steering wheel, tight enough for his knuckles to turn while. "Your apartment was unscathed, so it was clear no one tried to abduct you. They ruled out every suspicion on Jongho because of the evidence. A lot happened after you went missing—when the cops gave up, we tried to find clues in your apartment."

Silence covers the two of you, like a warm hug from a blanket, before he decides to break it. "Na-Ra and her boyfriend never gave up; they tried calling your hometown and asking your whereabouts. I was busy going through your apartment and Jongho...he always found a way to divert our investigation."

"Until one day he got too squirrelly when we asked him about you. It was only logical to, he was your neighbour and your landlord...it made sense," his voice breaks, "he never let us in his apartment either. My suspicions only grew from that moment."

"He said..." you speak up, glancing at him to find him resting his head on the steering wheel; but hearing your voice he turns his head to face you. "He said...he had been planning this for a while. Kept an eye on me. Watched my every move."

"He surely did," Yunho lets out a satirical chuckle, "bastard had cameras installed everywhere in your apartment. Even your old one. It creeped out Na-Ra."

"You don't say," you whisper, looking away.

"He has a spare room in his apartment; filled with screens, you know, all those cameras keeping an eye on you," Yunho mutters, "I should've known it before, he was obsessed with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so eager to help you out."

"Were you in on this?" you question, catching him off guard.

"Why would I be in on this?" he gasps, "I wasn't. He told you I was, didn't he?"

You nod, pursing your lips together. "I don't know what to believe anymore. I can't even tell if I should trust you or not."

"You should," he mumbles, "as a friend I was worried sick about you."

"I don't doubt that."

"Really, trust me. I'm not going to hurt you." He repeats himself.

"I know you won't but..."

"But?"

"What about Jongho? Is he really—"

"Dead? Yeah." He sighs, as if he had been holding it for long. "I aimed for his heart; pretty sure I got it."

"So, you killed him?"

"I already told you; I would go to any extent to keep you safe." He murmurs.

"So, what do we do now?" you ask because you were starting to panic.

You look at him, and he had been staring at you for a long time. He shakes his head, letting a smile cross his face, "we do nothing. We have no choice. Someone will find his body; the rot makes it easier to."

"And about you, you will have to restart your life pretending nothing happened."

[petermorwood]

In light of all the renewed interest about Martin Scorsese’s long-overlooked “Goncharov” (1973), has anyone noticed the element which repeats in his later and much better known film “Taxi Driver” (1976)?

It’s The Gun As Protagonist Accessory.

In “Goncharov” it’s right there on the poster, held by Robert de Niro: that’s a Thompson M1921 with 50-round drum magazine, the classic gangster gun, the Chicago Typewriter, the gun that made the Twenties roar.

This weapon has appeared in many gangster movies, most famously in the original “Scarface” (1932) where Tony Camonte (Paul Muni), encounters one for the first time when it’s used in a murder attempt against him and all but falls in love with the thing.

“When this gives orders, people listen!”

In “Taxi Driver” it’s an enormous revolver, a Smith & Wesson M29 similar to the one carried by Dirty Harry, though here made even more imposing with an 8” barrel (Harry’s was only 6”).  Scorsese is making a visual comment about the way his anti-hero Travis Bickle (Robert de Niro again) compensates for perceived inadequacy.

I’m not making any observations about trigger discipline. Really. No. I’m not.

Anyway, if Bickle could be associated with the clock motif in “Goncharov” the clock in question would be a cuckoo, so playing around indoors with this hand-cannon is no more than might be expected.

“You talkin’ to me...?”

There’s even a piece on the soundtrack, accompanying the gun’s introduction, entitled “The .44 Magnum Is A Monster.” (YouTube link.)

Having said that, it’s worth noting that in the final confrontation – when Bickle proves himself a more than adequate hero by rescuing underage Iris (Jodie Foster) from her life of sex slavery – the huge revolver plays a less significant role than expected from the way it’s been set up. Bickle defeats his opponents with much smaller handguns and even cold steel in the form of a boot knife.

This hero has overcome his monster in more ways than one.  

The Thompson plays a much more prominent role in “Scarface” than in “Goncharov”. Rather than a villain’s perverse secondary love interest, there it’s built up as a necessary adjunct of brutal power, which then fades into the background of relationships presented (this was released in 1973 after all) as improper if not actually warped.

“Ice-Pick Joe” Morelli’s (John Cazales) preference for a penetrating weapon rather than a gun (also favoured by real-life mobster Abe “Kid Twist” Reles)...

... is a pointer (sorry) at aspects of his character which couldn’t yet be stated clearly on-screen. What remains obvious through Scorsese’s direction and the excellent performances of his actors is that human failings are more destructive than any mere weapon.

It’s a masterful inversion of Chekov’s Gun, the premise where “a gun shown hung on the wall (for which read “any plot element given extra emphasis”) must be fired (used) before the performance ends”.

I haven’t been able to find actual screenshots from the film so these are representative images, but I hope they’ll show how, by utilising "Goncharov”’s recurrent clock motif to segue from Ambrosini (Al Pacino) winding one of his cherished antique timepieces...

... to Lo Straniero (de Niro) winding the clockwork drive of his Thompson gun’s drum magazine (incidentally an action seldom seen in films)...

...Scorsese manipulates his audience into believing that the film will culminate in a classic head-to-head gunfight.

That’s how Brian de Palma, a much less subtle director, ends his 1983 “Scarface” remake, with Tony Montana (Al Pacino) inviting his enemies to “Say hello to my little friend!”, the grenade-launcher attached to his automatic rifle.

Though “Goncharov” does feature some firearms action (it’s a gangster film after all), Scorsese leaves most its guns on the wall as a distraction until his audience realises, as the movie’s climax approaches, that destructive violence can take place as quietly and irreversibly as the passage of time marked out by a ticking clock in a darkened room.

[lucysgraybird]

part 2 of modern!uni!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 1 here, part 3 here. as promised, reader's a lil cuckoo which i hope yall are into because it's here to stay. on this, if anyone feels like offering thoughts -- would longer updates be preferable, or does it make no difference? the only tradeoff would be that they'd come out less frequently (once a week vs every 2-3 days). warnings: blood mention, minor suggestive material. this is not a healthy relationship but BOY is it fun

Coriolanus Snow, as it turns out, is wonderful to date, at least for you. You've been back from the winter holiday for a month, and though you've yet to make anything official with him, things are going very well. He doesn't text constantly, but there will always be a good morning text when you get back from the gym, and a good night text when you check your phone after hours at the library. He makes it clear that you're together when you're out with an arm around your waist or a hand over yours on the table, or with the faint bruises that trail across your collarbone and down your shirt. That's your favourite mark of your relationship: it's illicit, obvious. You know it makes other people a little uncomfortable, and you like that they can't seem to look away. 

He's also fascinating. Orphaned when he was quite young and raised by his grandmother and cousin, you've learned that while he obviously has money now, he didn't always. He had a stint in the military to pay for school, and got a job for his best friend’s father as a thank-you for saving the boy’s life in battle. Apparently the friend had been court-martialed for something – Coriolanus wouldn't go into detail – and now they weren't as close. He now makes more money than most people would dream of twenty years out of school, and though it means he's almost always busy, you like that he's so dedicated. 

Right now, you're bent over a sheet of stats equations at a table on the quad when Coriolanus sneaks up behind you. He drops a kiss on your head and settles in an open seat at your table.

“Hello,” you say, setting down your pen. 

“Don't let me distract you,” he replies, pulling a book out of his bag. “I'll wait until you're done to talk.”

This is another thing you appreciate about Coriolanus. Besides that first date, he understands how much you value school and your grades – he actually seems to like it – and never expects to come first. You blow through the last few problems, check your work, and clip the paper neatly into your binder.

Coriolanus looks up from his book. “Finished?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he says. “How's that class going, by the way?”

You keep apprised of each other’s academic performances – you're both shooting to graduate valedictorian next year, so you've got a little bit of competition going. As far as you can tell, it only serves to push both of you further, as winning seems more of a reward if there's been a real challenge for it. This being said, he knows that your statistics class is giving you a little bit of trouble, just like you know that his Victorian literature class is driving him up the wall. You're going to win, but you'll let him hope.

“Not as badly as you might hope,” you tease. “I'm on track for a decent A. How goes the adventures in Victorian lit?”

He lifts his book miserably, revealing the cover of Middlemarch. You wince.

“Rough. Don't make winning too easy on me, though.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”

You smile at the pet name, however targeted it is. “So did you come to make fun of my homework, or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

“Right, yes. We've been going out for a little over a month now.”

“This is true.”

“And I think it's time we make some decisions. I'm not looking for something casual. Between school and studying for the LSAT and work, I don't really have the time to devote to something that's definitely not going anywhere.”

“I hope you're not proposing, Coriolanus.”

“Not at all. But I am asking if you would like to be my girlfriend, officially.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“Yes?” He seems surprised. 

“I'm not particularly interested in anything casual either,” you say. “I’ve tried it and it doesn't work. I just get jealous.”

“I wouldn't have pegged you for the jealous type.”

“You haven't given me any reason to be. Believe me, if I'm jealous, I'll make sure you know.”

You regret saying that the minute you do – not because it's not true, but because it could be a little off-putting. But it seems to have the opposite effect for Coriolanus, who bares his teeth in a smile. The wider his smile gets, the more he looks like a wolf, the more you feel like he is waiting for the perfect moment to sink his teeth into your neck. Perhaps it should scare you, but it doesn't. It thrills you. It makes you want to tilt your head back and let him take hold, because you want to see your blood on his teeth and trickling down his chin, staining the starched white of his collar. You want to ruin this boy, which you would feel worse about thinking if you didn't get the sense that he wants to destroy you, too.  

“I hope you would,” he says, lifting you from your reverie. “As long as it's okay that it goes both ways.”

“Of course.” Perfect.

“Are you free tonight?” 

“I have a class that ends at 6, but after that, yes.”

“Would you like to meet my family? You'll love my cousin, and my grandmother…well. She doesn't like anyone, but she's interesting.”

“That sounds lovely,” you say, a thrill flooding you at going from occasional dates and make-out sessions to meeting his family in the course of an afternoon.

“Fine, then. I'll pick you up at 7.”

–

The Snow apartment is incredible. There's a sterility to its modernity that should be disquieting but isn't: you can't imagine Coriolanus growing up anywhere else. You're sitting with his cousin, Tigris, while he disappears to make drinks. The fabled grandmother was apparently refusing to make an appearance. Tigris seems anxious, fiddling with her floral skirt.

“So you're dating Coriolanus?” She asks finally. Your brows knit together – is she daft? Coriolanus introduced you as his girlfriend. 

“Mhm. We've been going out for a little over a month.”

“Oh.”

When she doesn't say anything else, you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Coriolanus tells me you basically raised him,” you say, wanting to fill the silence.

Tigris nods. “He was such a kind little boy. I worry I didn't do enough sometimes, you know?”

What a weird thing to say. “I'm sure you did your best. I can't imagine it's easy bringing someone else up when you're a kid yourself. And he's turned out well, from what I can tell.”

“He can just be…intense. I'm sorry, I know this is strange, I just want you to know what you're getting into.”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I need to find someone to give him this speech about me. I'll be okay, Tigris. I can be a lot too; I think we'll be good for each other.”

Coriolanus returns just at that moment.

“I think we'll be good for each other too,” he says, handing you and Tigris each a glass of red wine. “I hope my cousin hasn't been telling you too many embarrassing baby stories.” 

Something passes over Tigris’ face – grief, maybe, or fear – before she settles into a demure smile. 

“Not at all, Coriolanus. Your girlfriend is so sweet.”

He sits next to you and puts his free hand on your knee. “She's perfect, isn't she? I knew you guys would get along.”

Tigris gives him a tight smile, then lets her eyes go unfocused into space. 

–

The rest of the night passes with much of the same uncomfortable conversation, until Coriolanus finally decides that it'd be best if he drove you home before it got too late. It's the first time you've seen him drive, and you just enjoy the way the streetlights cast shadows on the angles of his face and the way his hand sits hot and heavy on your thigh.

“I'm sorry if Tigris said anything strange to you,” he says finally. “She's been odd ever since I got back from being deployed.”

“She was fine. I think she was worried you'd be too much for me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “She doesn't approve of my job. Or my ‘work-life balance’, as she calls it.”

“Sounds like she cares about you.” It's hard to say more, because you don't really know what he does for work. Something with national security or defense tech, but beyond that, you're in the dark. It also seems like there was more to the way Tigris was acting than just complaints about Coriolanus working too hard, but it's not your place to pry. Nor do you really care.

“No, you're right. She does. I just wish she'd keep her opinions to herself.”

“That’s fair. I'm still glad I got to meet her.”

“I am too. And I'm always glad to spend time with you.”

To say that, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment and gives you a sweet, close-lipped smile. You return it and place your hand over his on your thigh. His fingers dig in a little too hard, and you curl your nails like claws into his skin in reply. He pulls the car into a parking space in front of your apartment.

“Here you are.”

You turn to him and take in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes have gone murky in the dark of the night and trail across the scooping neckline of your top. The skin on your neck is pristine again, and you need him to fix that.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

[tcfactory]

I was talking with someone the other day and it got me thinking about something.

I generally run with the idea that part of the reason why Luo Binghe became THE target for Shen Qingqiu's abuse was because Shen Qingqiu fell for the 'white sheep' routine. Like, it was a lot of things all together: coming to the sect at an unfortunate time (Shen Qingqiu was in a mental health freefall because he was at a bottleneck and struggling to form his core, and here comes Luo Binghe with his perfect aptitude who's expected to blitz through all of the hurdles Shen Qingqiu sweated blood to scale), the pettiness he felt towards Liu Qingge when he picked Luo Binghe out (another bitter association), Luo Binghe having Ning Yingying right away as a friend and support (who stuck with him even against her shizun's orders!!) when Shen Qingqiu was all alone, the jealousy that however briefly Luo Binghe had a loving mother

and the crown jewel on this cake was that Luo Binghe, despite having suffered the death of a loved one and poverty on the streets, still seemed like a naive little ray of sunshine. And no matter what Shen Qingqiu does to him, he remains pathetic and vulnerable in the way that makes kinder people want to take care of him and protect him.

Shen Qingqiu is not a kind man and he knows intimately that the world isn't kind either. Not to pathetic children who don't grow up with the power of a rich family to put them somewhere safe where they can become pathetic, maybe well-meaning maybe not adults. To him it's the harbinger of failure.

The Luo Binghe he sees after picking him up is not smart, not crafty in the way he expects a street kid to be. He's not driven (wanting to make his late mother proud... motivation like that ought to fade with the memories. In four or five years Luo Binghe won't even recall the face or voice of his beloved mother and then Shen Qingqiu will be left with a child with no drive whatsoever). All Luo Binghe has going for him is his bright eyed optimism and his servile nature (which cannot, should not last in a cultivator) and his exceptional aptitude, which is useless on its own.

I struggle to believe that Luo Binghe was the first on the peak who was naturally talented (Shen Qingqiu's ruined cultivation base put him so far behind that even with his hard work, he lagged behind Shang Qinghua whose cultivation is mediocre at best). Or the first to have a support network of friends or a loving family. And as much as Shen Qingqiu resented them for having these gifts that he didn’t, he never tried to destroy them the way he tried to destroy Luo Binghe.

Luo Binghe has all the tools of greatness and the hallmarks of failure all in one and it's that combination that triggers Shen Qingqiu's hate. Shen Qingqiu, in his rush to spite Liu Qingge, picked up trash that glitters. He can never admit to this mistake, so he decides that he's going to drive off Luo Binghe or destroy him, whichever happens first, because he can't imagine being stuck with this, this... pathetic little beast. One way or another, he will get rid of him before he can become a stain on Shen Qingqiu's reputation.

And we know how all of that turned out...

But what if he did see through it. Luo Binghe slipped up in his introduction and Shen Qingqiu immediately saw him for the white lotus that he was.

Shen Qingqiu knows the world, he knows its monsters and its beasts. So he looks at this child (not as weak and battered from his life on the street as others, the promise of strength and a bright future written in his meridians) pretending to be small and weak and pathetic and he's terrified.

Only the most dangerous predators pretend to be prey. He took a cuckoo into his nest, he accepted a wolf into his flock. Now it's his job to deal with it, before it grows fangs and bites the hand that feeds it.

He doesn't trust his martial siblings to listen to him on this, to hear him (unpleasant and sharp and biting, hated and hateful) out over the little beast (teary eyed and pathetic, pretty little thing you want to take home and keep safe).

He always did hide his fear the best with hate.

He will wear down this intruder until he can find out what his goal is and destroy him, before the beast can destroy them first.

It's almost a relief, when Luo Binghe stands on the edge of the abyss, his sheepskin torn and staring at him with the resentful eyes of a demon. It's the one moment when he doesn't hate Luo Binghe; he is a demon who will act as a demon does, as is his nature.

Pushing him into oblivion is

relief.

[silverzoomies]

Ok so I've been a fan of Evan since days of future past came out. Like, the day it came out. I saw the premier or whatever it's called in theaters so DUH I LOVE QUICKSILVER SO MUCH 😞😞 anyways I know you're not taking requests but like I'm a little bit chubby (this is relevant I swear) and I CANNOT stop thinking about Peter and reader! being in a serious long term relationship, but they haven't gone all the way yet. Like, heavy make out session? Yes! Peter getting painfully hard during said make out session? Check. Make out session turns into peters desperately grinding, letting out the neediest little whines. Absolutely. Him definitely busting in his pants at readers! breathless little moans? Every. Single. Time. Never all the way though. He desperately wants to bone but he's willing to wait as long as he wants to because he thinks reader! doesn't want to, but they're just as desperate as he is but scared of what he would think because they're chubby. During one of their heated.. laundry day inducing make out sessions one thing leads to another and reader! ends up telling Peter why they haven't wanted to go all the way, and Peter proves to them he doesn't think that [;)] and talks reader! through it the whole time.

YOU DONT HAVE TO ADD THIS TO YOUR REQUESTS OR TURN IT INTO A FIC IF YOU DONT WANT TO. I just had to share this with somebody and OBVIOUSLY because you're one of my favorite writers I had to come to you with this (hi I've sent u a lot of messages 🎀) and since you're another huge quickie fan I thought you'd enjoy this :3 SORRY IF THIS WAS SUPER LONG OR IF IT DIDNT MAKE SENSE I'm mad at typing sometimes smh

helllooooooo anon, my lovely !!! i love you so much !! forgive me, i haven't written in a while !! i tried my best to make somethin' out of this because it was such a cute idea !! i hope a headcanon list will suffice !! also, please don't ever apologize for sending me long asks. i'm not kidding when i say they make my day, i love them so much !!

headcanons || peter maximoff x chubby!reader

to preface, i think we should consider some key things about our speedy goofball

peter’s a mutant. he knows exactly what it feels like to be alienated for something he has no control over

second of all, the guy’s a little bit of a weirdo

i legitimately doubt he would judge, or think less of anyone for something as superficial as looks

seriously. If he vibes with you, and you’re patient enough with him - you’re sexy as hell

it’s as simple as that, sorry. just bein' honest

so what if you’re a little thicker? he can’t get enough of you

he’s so addicted to you, in fact, you’ve got him trippin’ a little bit

like, he’s kinda goin’ cuckoo

the two of you make out a lot. so much. it’s like you’re glued to one another. any free time you have together usually consists of hanging out, and making out. not that he’s complaining

it’s definitely awesome. and it feels totally great. he does this freaky thing with his tongue that makes you squirm under him every time 

and the way you whine into each smooch - oh, man - you have him longing to get even closer

make outs eventually turn to dry humping. it’s kind of humiliating the first few times...

...since the grinding always seems to end with him busting a load in his jeans. and he whimpers too much...jeez...

but you always praise him for it, which never fails to turn him on even more

things get so heated between the two of you, escalating so often - peter finds himself confused

like…why haven’t you let him…y’know…

once or twice, he hints he wants to go down on you. and there’s no way you misread his signals. he’s pretty blunt about his needs

but you’re always so reluctant. you feign ignorance, or try to distract him with more intense kisses and pretty moans

peter’s never been a patient guy. the fact that he’s willing to wait this long for you says a lot. like, shit…he must really really really like you

but even now…fuck…he’s so worked up. he’s getting a little too bored of being limited to smooching

like, c’mon…do you think he’s ugly or something?? does he smell?? what’s the deal??

he never considered you might be self conscious. his brain doesn’t really operate like that. he’s all impulsivity and living in the moment

in the midst of making out, his hands travel where they don’t usually dare to go. he takes confident chances, fondling your tits over your clothes. but just as things heat up, you redirect his attention again

his blood almost boils. he’s way too hard for this, aching to get closer, and you’re just…gah! why’re you holdin’ yourself back? 

at last, you confess…you’ve been self conscious the whole time

ah

why didn’t you just say somethin’ before? peter tries not to laugh at how silly you sound. obviously, he’s super attracted to you. why else would he spend all his free time with you, tryna get up close and personal?

as things finally move forward, he dials up the sweetness a few notches

and damn, the wait for this was more than worth the uptick in laundry days (thanks to one too many nuts busted in his boxers)

he covers every last inch of your gorgeous body in kisses, as you let him shed you of your clothes

his masculine hands are more gentle than you expect

unclothed together, he doesn’t hesitate to get as close as he possibly can

you’re soft and cozy, and his body is like a furnace

months of pent-up desire leave him so horny, he can’t hold back anymore

through it all, he’s quick to remind you how much of a fox you are. peter teases you with his tongue in ways you never imagined possible. before rocking your world, flowing with the motion of the ocean

and by that, i mean…you bone. balls deep. hellz to the yeah

embarrassingly enough, it ends just as soon as it starts. but as usual, he recovers fast. and his endless stamina means he’s willing to go at it for hours

which he does. until you’re so exhausted, your limbs are like limp noodles. whoops...sorry about that !!

say...uh...no chance you'd wanna go another round, is there?

peter hopes you’ll be more up front with him from now on. so he spends less time dreamin', and more time goin' at it 🤍

[thegeorgiatennantblog]

So Ingrav was going nutsy cuckoo about this whole scene from Staged S03E04.

Gif courtesy @invisibleicewands

Gross right!

Usually, I don't call people out like this. Tbh this is a first and I feel odd. Disclaimer: I don't want to bully anyone. This is just my two cents on this post which is one of many that have managed to make me uncomfortable time and time again.

So I was reading this and it struck me as wrong for so many reasons but I'll list them down.

How sad and pathetic must your life be that you don't have any close platonic friendships. That you cannot understand platonic love when you see it. That you have never been hugged or held by your best friend. My heart goes out to you!

You subscribe to that weird ideology that doesn't let men be close to one another, allow emotional vulnerability or physical intimacy, etc., because 'OMG if they're doing that, they must be gay for each other'. This is such a heteronormative, Western-hegemonic, Americentric view of masculinity and leads to toxic masculinities being developed where boys feel like they can't do any of these things for fear of being labelled "gay". There are cultures in the world where male friends hold hands when walking down the street, where they kiss each other on the cheek when greeting each other, where they express their emotional vulnerabilities to each other. So please, my dears, get some perspective.

The whole "Oh look at the sexual tension in their eyes.... how he doesn't flinch or blink when sth sth.... that tiny little shudder when..." (ew I'm gonna boke; even writing this makes me sick). Like yeah mate. He's doing that when his own actual irl wife is sitting under the table recording the audio for the scene. iT's tOTaLlY nORmaL rIGht... EVerYonE doEs tHAt.... I dO iT aLl ThE TimE.

Wait how do I know that..... um

Interview: Georgia Tennant On Filming Staged Series 3 - TV (countryandtownhouse.com)

@dtmsrpfcringe any notes?

Anyway to clean out the cringe have some gorgeous shots of our queen from this very interview. BTW it's a really sweet interview. I'd recommend you guys read it. <3

[bumblebee-is-best-boi]

BLITZBEE WEEK DAY FIVE: SCARS

hoooo boy! This one is my fav. Originally it was just a Blitzwing story but I made it have Blitzbee for the purpose of this week.

I EVEN GAVE IT A TITLE

hehe

@blitzbee-week Day Five: Scars

title coming up soon vvv

Digits In Between The Wings

Characters: Blitzwing, Bumblebee, Astrotrain

Warning: Cybertronian cursing, mentions of throwing up, too much fluff and angst :)

story under the cut vvv

When Blitzwing used to be a seeker, he liked to polish himself. Not to the extent of Knockout, of course (no one obsessed over their polisher like Knockout), but enough to make his frame glimmer in the slightest bit. He had the perfect frame to show his glimmer off, but that wasn’t the main reason he polished himself. It wasn’t even about the polish at all! 

It was more about the machine he used.

The one he used, while it was a bit smaller than usual polishers, it used to fit perfectly in the space between his wings. It pressed against the joints of his wing bases in a way that wasn’t too much pressure to hurt or damage them, but enough to stimulate some pleasant feelings. 

Blitzwing used to attach his polisher to a long handle and just slip it between his wings once in a while, keeping it there for several minutes before moving on with his polishing. 

But when he was turned into a Triple Changer, that all changed. 

Blitzwing’s polisher had become too small to be nice between his wings, but it didn’t matter, since he wasn’t even comfortable using the polisher anymore. The idea of it gliding across his frame, one that had changed drastically for him, just made him a little bit sick in his tanks. Every time it glided over his scars, it made him wince in uncomfortableness, since his scars revealed his sensitive metal plates. Also, the experiment must have fragged something up between Blitzwing’s wings, because he felt as if something defective there was aching with everything he did, and touching it caused him lots of pain.

That didn’t mean Blitzwing didn’t at least try.

He tried many times, but he just couldn’t handle the feeling. And then after one wonky attempt, he broke his polisher into pieces in a fit of rage (or was it actually distress? He couldn’t really tell anymore).

After becoming a Triple Changer, his frame, which once had a slight glimmer, had become dull and matte. Blitzwing stopped taking care of his frame, sometimes to the point where Astrotrain had to force him to take care of himself for a while to prevent rust and cracked plates. Astrotrain might have been way taller than him, but he was also a bot who was very gentle with his movements (if he wanted to, most of the time he liked to be overly erratic). His fingers were nimble, originally to handle to spin his blasters and shoot out multiple rounds in quick succession, but also to handle the tools needed to keep a mech functioning. But no matter how much Astrotrain tried to take care of Blitzwing to make sure his unwillingness to do self care didn’t make him go offline, his frame glimmer was lost.

___

“For Primus’s sake Blitzwing, you should take care of yourself more often!” Astrotrain yelled in exasperation as he pushed one of Blitzwing’s arm plates open to scrape off dried energon build up from a damaged energon line, “Be lucky that this energon line wasn't so major, or you would have been bleeding out for hours on end. And also be lucky that I saw the bleeding before it got any worse!”

Astrotrain finally scraped it off, started patching the energon line, then switched faces and chuckled. “Heh, but I know you're not going to listen to me. It's just typical of you to do whatever you want without any thoughts of the consequences! Typical Blitzwing! All cuckoo and carefree!” 

Astrotrain kept snickering as he closed Blitzwing’s arm plate and stood up, “I know for sure that no matter what I say, we’re going to be right back here again, fixing some new problem!” 

Blitzwing switched faces and fumed, “Oh shut your mouth, slagger!”

“Ok ok, I will, for now. But you cannot shut the fact that my words speak the truth.” Astrotrain turned to walk away, his footsteps thundering, “Oh and by the way, Megatron wants us in the meeting room in ten minutes. I suggest you hurry and don't damage any more of yourself on the way, you know how much Megatron wants his Decepticons in top condition!”

Blitzwing opened his mouth to yell at Astrotrain, but he stopped and closed his mouth again, switching faces and standing up. He looked at his arm, where Astrotrain had fixed his energon line. Astrotrain’s words echoed through his processor multiple times, no matter how annoying it got. Blitzwing wanted to just laugh it off, to think of it as a silly joke, but he couldn't. It wasn't a silly joke. It was the truth.

No matter how much Blitzwing wanted to deny it, it was the truth. The cold hard truth.

____

Refueling wasn't a big problem for Blitzwing… sometimes. Sometimes he got himself enough to last a while, sometimes he had only enough to run on half a tank. It was quite hard to adjust to a frame that demanded more energon to function, but he made it work eventually (He didn’t). And then there was the purging that happened once in a while during the night… but he didnt like to talk about that.

But what was most annoying about his frame upgrade was the pain that came with it. Not even the idea of three faces annoyed him that much (even though the face switching did hurt at one point). His knees were constantly hurting, due to the weird build of his legs, and he kept breaking his knee braces by tearing them up and destroying them whenever he felt like it. For days on end, his tanks constantly felt sore, no matter if his tank was full or empty or whatever in between. And what was the worst thing was the dull ache in the joints of his wings, and the constant prickling pain down his back in between his wings.

He once wanted to paint over his scars, but every time he thought of it, he always got sidetracked to thinking about painting himself in many different colors wilder than any Decepticon had ever seen before. Despite that sounding like a cool idea, Blitzwing always countered those thoughts because he didn’t want to look stupid or get in trouble with Megatron. Instead, he decided to see how others reacted if someone else was painted in wild colors.

This led to him going to the seeker trine’s room with buckets of paint and painting all sorts of crazy things on them (originally he wanted to just paint Starscream, but seeing them in the seeker pile made him all too happy to paint all three of them). Blitzwing then waited till the next day to see what would happen… It was lots of humiliation and getting punished by Megatron pretty badly. This scared Blitzwing to his very spark, to the point where he felt guilty about it (but no way he would ever admit it was his fault).

Only Astrotrain knows what truly happened on that day.

At that point, Blitzwing had completely given up on trying to fix himself, trying to take care of himself, caring for a frame that he once cherished. No use in caring for a frame that had been warped beyond his own recognition and repair.

_____

“Blitzwing.” Astrotrain spoke, trying to get Blitzwing’s attention. 

No response.

“Blitzwing.” Astrotrain hissed, “You glitch, I know you can hear me,” He looked down at the ground, “Stop ignoring me please.”

Blitzwing eventually raised his head, “What is it.”

Astrotrain looked into Blitzwing’s optics, “There’s only one energon cube left for today.”

Blitzwing’s optic twitched, and he switched faces, “That’s what you bothered me for?!”

Astrotrain switched faces, “Oh EXCUSE me for trying to help my DEAR Amica! Oh what an aft am I!”

“Slag off!”

Astrotrain switched faces, “Do you want the fragging energon cube or not?”

Blitzwing switched faces, “You can have it.”

Astrotrain reached for the energon cube, then stopped.

“You refueled yourself at least more than halfway today, right?”

Blitzwing’s optic twitched, then he switched faces, “Ah yes! I had quite the feast today! Oh such a nice servo salad it was! Aha!”

Astrotrain grimaced for a slight moment before grabbing the cube, “the idea of you eating other Cybertronians still unnerves me heavily… but at least it’s better than nothing. ”

Blitzwing switched faces again and looked at the ground as Astrotrain chugged the energon cube. He felt bad for lying, but also not sorry for it at the same time. No matter whatever Astrotrain felt through the Amica bond.

Speaking of the Amica bond, Blitzwing rarely made use of the emotion sensing ability that the bond had. He had too much going on in his head to go poking around in Astrotrain’s emotions.

But this time, Blitzwing used the bond. He used the bond to try and poke into Astrotrain’s emotions, but gave up when he felt the mess of emotions in there. He didn’t care enough to go in there and try to see what is what.

He just didn’t care.

_____

But then he met Bumblebee. That little yellow Autobot who kind of slightly annoyed him to no end and was the love of his life at the same time. The one who treated every single one of Blitzwing’s faces with love and care, even when he was being a bit of a glitch.

Every time that they met up, Bumblebee would bring something to cheer Blitzwing up, whether it was a few cubes of energon, some cans of oil, a servo (Bumblebee never said where he got it from, to Blitzwing’s disappointment, since it was one of the best servos he ever had), or even his own polisher! 

But the best thing was how Bumblebee tried his best to handle Blitzwing’s pain. He couldn’t do anything about Blitzwing’s knee pain, other than at least try to tell Blitzwing to stop destroying his knee braces. Bumblebee would bring his hands over Blitzwing’s numerous scars, massaging them the best he could (he stopped if Blitzwing was in too much pain though). He would even move his fingers over the space between Blitzwing’s wings, putting his digits between the wings and massaging the wing base joints, soothing the discomfort in them.

It was the best thing Blitzwing had felt in centuries.

____

Holding the energon cube in his hands, Blitzwing looked down at it with a solemn look on his face. Why did his love offer this to him? He gingerly cupped the cube, afraid to spill a drop and disappoint his little sweetspark. 

“Why aren't you drinking your energon Blitz? Worried that it’ll run away?” Bumblebee chugged his cube of energon and tilted his head at Blitzwing.

A sigh came out of Blitzwing’s mouth. He just couldn’t tell Bumblebee the truth… he couldn’t! 

“Why aren’t you drinking your energon, Blitzwing?” Bumblebee’s antennae drooped in sadness.

Oh god, the sight of Bumblebee being sad hurt Blitzwing to the deepest depths of his spark. He needed to find a way to mitigate the situation before it got worse!

The slight ache in his tanks gave him a great idea.

“Ach… I have a slight tank ache. I don't really feel like refueling right now…” Blitzwing spoke, hoping that everything would stop at that moment.

But when Bumblebee immediately turned his head around to look at him, he was greatly surprised. He didn't expect that Bumblebee would become so attentive to him.

“Alright buddy, lie down.” Bumblebee commanded Blitzwing, “I wanna try something”

Blitzwing was confused, but he laid down anyway. Luckily the ground was soft-ish, or else he would have been very uncomfortable. And so he waited for something to happen

He waited…

And he waited…

And he waited some more…

Until suddenly, he felt a weight on his tanks. Blitzwing immediately looked up and saw that Bumblebee had plopped himself on top of his tanks. He kept staring, even when Bumblebee looked up to meet his gaze. 

“Hey, you’re a big mech, I have to change how I do things here!” Bumblebee pouted.

Blitzwing watched Bumblebee, then switched faces and laughed, “Wow, you’re heavier than I thought!”

He received a slight kick to the tank.

“Not funny.” Bumblebee frowned.

Blitzwing winced, switched faces, and sighed, “Apologies.”

“Good. Now let me do this, and I promise that your tank aches and pains will alleviate soon!” Bumblebee positioned himself and reached out with his hand. 

The hand settled low on Blitzwing’s hips before going up and stopping just underneath his chassis. This was repeated 10 times. Then some semi circle motions across his abdomen, also repeated ten times. There then came some soft massages and kneading, which calmed Blitzwing down.

But when Bumblebee did the little vibrations with his hands, this surprised Blitzwing a little bit.

And then Bee was finished.

“Wow,” Blitzwing gasped, “That was… wow.”

Bumblebee smiled, “I get tank aches too, so Ratchet taught me this to alleviate the pain.”

“Could… you teach how to do that?” Blitzwing asked.

Bumblebee smirked mischievously, “Only if you drink the energon cube. You need it.”

Blitzwing sighed, then drank the cube. It actually felt nice…

It seemed that what Bumblebee did worked really really well.

____

After a while, it seemed as if the treatment Blitzwing got by being Bumblebee’s sweetspark started affecting him in a good way. His frame felt so much more comfortable to him now, his aches between the wings had stopped, his scars were less sensitive, and he purged much less. Face switching was less of a chore to him now, more being more flowy instead of jerky and sudden. He even used what Bumblebee taught him to alleviate tank ache.

Astrotrain, as observant as he was, was bound to notice something.

____

“Damn Blitzwing, youve having more energon right now than ive seen you have in an entire week!” Astrotrain laughed, slapping Blitzwing on the back.

Blitzwing’s wings twitched from the slap, his face switched, and he scowled. Finishing his energon cube, he turned towards Astrotrain.

“So I guess Swindle sold you some good sense or something?”

“No you dumbaft, Swindle hasn’t even been here in a while. And any transactions I do or will do will be face to face with him, cause I don’t trust him entirely.”

“Ah, ah.” Astrotrain smirked as he kneeled down, “Then tell me what’s gotten you to act so different? It’s definitely not from you following my advice, that’s for sure.” Another laugh from Astrotrain ensued.

Blitzwing fumed for a bit, then switched faces, “it’s… the little Autobot.”

Astrotrain paused for a moment, then switched faces, “What did the Autobot do.”

Blitzwing reminded himself that Astrotrain was not entirely trusting of Bumblebee, so he had to choose his words carefully if he didn’t want to accidentally screw everything up.

“He… gives me energon every time we meet…” Blitzwing switched faces “He treats me like a queen! His beautiful big queen!” 

Astrotrain froze, not expecting to hear that. Switching faces, he brought himself closer to Blitzwing, eyeing him curiously.

“So you’re saying that this… tiny little Autobot… has been helping you with your problems?”

Blitzwing nodded vigorously.

Astrotrain suddenly switched faces, “Well FINALLY! Finally someone got some sense into your processor!” Laughing, he patted Blitzwing on the shoulder, “And, please keep this up. It’s healthier for you, and there’ll be more for your little Autobot to love!”

Blitzwing switched faces, blushing in embarrassment, but nodded anyway.

After a while of snickering, Astrotrain switched faces, “But I must not get sidetracked, since there is something I have to say: Megatron has commanded that we go do an energon raid in about three hours. We actually have to be out of the base in one and a half hours,” Astrotrain said with a bit of bitterness in his voice, before softening his tone, “So have another cube and we can go, okay?”

Blitzwing nodded his head and drank his energon cube, “Alright.”

____

Even though he knew that his scars would never heal, Blitzwing knew that Bumblebee would be there for him, no matter what.

And that was more than enough for him.

[the-nosy-neighbor]

4 Eddies

So, as a commenter pointed out, there ARE 4 Eddie videos in Commercials, does that translate to 4 separate Eddies running around on Homewarming?

1. Decorating Poppy's tree. Eddie is happy to be helping her with the tree. The focus of the video is Eddie pouring gravy on the red ornament, which is referenced later in The Bad Time. Poppy asks Eddie when he is going to rest and enjoy the holiday. This really reminds me of something (a horror movie? People around them telling them they need rest and something is actually happening? They live? Soultaker? None of them are quite fitting but I know this is a trope.)

A line of Poppy's that sticks out to me is "when are you going to give yourself some time (pause) to enjoy the holidays?" It is a weird way to say that. “Give yourself some time.” Eddie has the only timepiece in the place. Edit: that is what i thought but now there is a cuckoo clock.

But. "What’s a Homewarmin’s eve without a Homewarmin’ Ham in the tree, after all!" So it is Homewarming Eve.

[Puppet]

2. Bored, but have Homewarming gifts to deal with. (He also notably has intrusive thoughts during this bit, which he talks himself down from.) He wraps an apple for Wally, which is slapping a bow on it. You know, he never gives people their gifts. We had him wrapping them, but they said later it was all done. He had his mail bag but he didn't say anything about distributing them, despite Sally saying they distributed all their presents. We have zero proof there are presents.

[Puppet]

3. Super bored, has played tic-tac-toe against himself at least 18 times, but it could be more with the 2nd page. The score is 4 to 14. It should be the other way, if we are reading left to right, as the 1st player to move has a much higher chance of winning. Or ties, since that is probably how playing yourself goes.  

He gets mad and shoves things around in this bit, and I have always found it odd that he says "how is anyone supposed to get some recognition around here if they don't have anything to do?" Acting primarily for recognition is weird--especially for a puppet. He seems kind of desperate, too, like the consequences of not having recognition are dire.  

He also has a shopping list: envelopes, pencil, construction paper, paper (lined), egg, milk. (I would say eggs, but he has a weird swoop at the end of all of his words.)

[Puppet]

4. Eddie goes for his walk, and immediately is spotted/called to by Sally, who says that everyone has already delivered their gifts without him so he could rest and enjoy the holiday and that he should walk her to the party.

[Cartoon/puppet mix]

Ok, what about this? Eddie is stashed away in the post office because the other Eddies are around and we can't have 2 at the same time? I really had this thought because we didn't get any info on the present delivery, and an alternate Eddie could have delivered it. Along the same lines, what if the Eddie that encounters Sally is not the same Eddie as was in the post office? He does decide to go for a walk in the end of 3. This could be one of those sitcom i have 3 dates and i can't let them know type deals.

But 1 happens on Homewarming Eve. 2 is on the holiday, "I ain’t never had so little to do on a holiday before." 3 says "all day," so we can assume the same day, but that isn't stated. Could we be seeing multiple years' Homewarmings? But Sally says he was there all day. 4 says Homewarming party, so maybe the same day.

Maybe we should consider the split between the Eve vs the Day?

What if Eddie knows there are 4 of him? Or at least 2 of him? Eddie 2 is wrapping presents. Then Eddie 2 and 3 are playing tic tac toe, with OG Eddie smoking Eddie 2, since copies tend to degrade in media. Then, finally, Eddie 4 is meeting up with Sally, because despite the fact that Eddie said he was going to go for a walk, we have no proof that he did so. Besides, this Eddie is a cartoon.

Eddie 1 could have delivered his presents? No, for this to make sense, Eddie 1, the highest functioning (and OG) Eddie does the Homewarming Eve, then we see Eddie 2 putting presents together. Then Eddie 2 goes and delivers his presents, while Eddie 1 and Eddie 3 play endless Tic-Tac-Toe. Maybe Eddie 1 goes shopping at that point, since we have a shopping list. Eddie 3, being a copy, is breaking down, getting mad about being useful, because that's all he is for, to be of use to Eddie 1, and by extension, the others. Eddie 4 gets scooped up by Sally, who may never realize that she is watching different iterations of Eddie throughout the day.

I wonder if through the other bits of Eddie there are any indications that he might be more than 1? We have that one concept drawing that sparked the idea--

Another concept drawing that fits:

There are multiple letters, multiple hearts, multiple versions of the word mail, and Eddie has a ? He has doki doki cheeks. Also, behind this drawing, we see a version of Eddie in some kind of distress. I can only really see the red face and pained look, as well as it looks like some movement of his arm. We can see the pocket of his shirt vaguely, but not sure what else is going on there.

In "commercials," we have layered sound and layered visuals. What if that layering represents multiple Eddies experiencing different things? Like the single pea and then saying 4, all the things he experienced as each version of himself played simultaneously. In this, I can see a wreath, Home's eye from this part, the Welcome home logo, all with Frank on top.

In line with the toy Eddie looking at his price, this Eddie sees himself dwarfed by toys. The realism involved in this presentation during a cartoon version of Eddie segment is jarring. Could he be having a realization about the degrees of realities his different personas have?

And as we can see it the detailed screens at the bottom of that image, we go pea on a plate, nightmare home, real/puppet version of pea on a plate, surrounded by giant toys, the clock, ornament, and gravy, which puts me in mind of Poppy:

And this--

this is definitely part of Eddie's realization, or derealization, I guess, depends on how you look at it. Under "Having a Get-Together?" it says "Consider inviting more peas to the party!" and "Add additional peas according to how many guests there are!" What if Eddie looks down and his thought is "that isn't enough peas for all of me." Especially possible considering that Eddie flashes back to this pea on a plate multiple times throughout his Bad Time.

I have considered before that the pea on a plate is important because it leads to Eddie considering being in two places, but what if it is important because he is think about how he's been in multiple places at the same time?

Puppet Eddie is at Home, and Cartoon Eddie is at the Post Office? Obviously, it would be backwards, because we know Cartoon Eddie is at Home. Maybe it is time to reconsider this idea?

We're hanging a lantern on this new monolith in the neighborhood? And/or, the letters mean something? F with the bug, that for sure references Frank. Also, kind of makes us think of Bug-A-Bye, and we've considered that is a representation of a kind of death for Eddie. In addition, that thumb is right on "J" and a present, so it could be Julie, or it could be presents, since they have figured in so strongly. The code we used this for does not include a J, so there isn't a present to be found on the website? (I have to go and check now.) I didn't see any.

I went off and got distracted, as usual, but nothing else to report. This is an interesting idea. Next, I will either be doing mythology or mentions of "time," especially in reference to Eddie.

[alicedash2]

Hello Alice 👋. I've been reading your work's (mainly the whitebeard crew and ace one's) and I have to say , I really love your writing! I see the request is still open, so if you don't mind me... What if whitebeard has a biologically related daughter? How would the crew treat her? ( Also if it's ok with you, can you make it Ace x whitebeard's daughter?). That's all from me... Thank you (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Hello, my dear! Very much thank you! 💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️💗♥️

I hope I did what you wanted, I hope you like it!

Whitebeard x Biological Daughter! ( And Ace x Biological Whitebeard Daughter)

Ah, to be the biological son of the great Whitebeard, what a privilege!

Firstly, she will be treated like a queen on the ship whether she likes it or not, because she is a person very dear to the crew, and still, there are fights that she is going to marry the great daughter of Whitebeard, but, Whitebeard or it is very well and protests, saying that he will choose who will be the suitor

- as your father, I know who your boyfriend or husband should be-

- you can't always be like this! I will choose myself! -

- you are very rebellious! I didn't raise you like that!-

But! Already super cute father-daughter moments, he doesn't let anyone touch his daughter, as well as the crew members who are always with YN, flirting and playing pickup lines, if that's a teenager to an adult!

But

°•°•°•^^°°

If it's a child

It will be pure sweetness, everyone is playing and having fun, Whitebeard spoils his daughter whenever he gets the chance, always telling her that he loves her and that she is the most beautiful girl in the oceans!

Thatch makes her favorite dishes, always to see smile and laugh

Everyone loves Whitebeard's little daughter, as she is more appreciated than the Empress Boa Hancock, not least because, obviously, she is Whitebeard's biological daughter.

°•°•°^•°•

The crew doesn't let anyone flirt with YN! Only they can!

And my friend, if YN shows up crying or hurt, they'll turn the planet upside down!

Marco is always taking care of YN's health, the call for exams every week and cried if YN is fine,

Izou likes to groom YN, make her up and dress her in beautiful clothes.

Ace, Thatch are the main flirts, but if they pray they take a cuckoo from Whitebeard when he catches them

Haruta likes to share secrets, talk and play with YN

Vista lets YN wear her hat and play with her mustache

Anyway, she is the princess of the ship, no one touches her, she just admires with her eyes, while her guards protect her! Like that 💗♥️💞

Ace takes a lot of risks, he flirts when Whitebeard is not around, but, whenever possible, he invites the captain's daughter to go out with Ace, which causes envy and even fights over who will go out with the captain's daughter. captain, so in the end, the captain's daughter ends up staying on the ship or going out alone

Ace thinks Whitebeard doesn't know, but he does know that Ace is head over heels in love with YN, always spoiling her with gifts, sweets and sharing her food!

One day, Whitebeard wanted to talk to Ace alone.

-Ace...-

- Yes,Pops?-

- I saw that you are dating my daughter -

- ...forgive me- -

- no. -

- Hm? -

- just, take care of her, I trust her to you, Ace, I don't care if they go out or date, I trust that you can take care of her -

Ace's eyes had never lit up so much, fire seeping from his body with emotion.

Until one day, Ace was rehearsing how to confess his feelings, until he had an idea.

On the island where the boat anchored, as usual, Ace and YN went out, went to bars, restaurants and other places, until when night came and they were returning to the ship, Ace stopped and held YN's hand.

- what it was?-

-YN, I need to tell you something-

YN already suspected, but didn't want to say anything so as not to spoil the friendship

- say it-

- I love you, very much!-

Ace's face turned red, his body waiting for some flames and anxiously waiting for the answer, which, was a peck on the lips, making Ace explode with emotion.

- you're a cutie, Ace! I love you too, Ace! -

Ace his legs shake, YN, seeing Ace's situation, laughs and hugs him

Ace felt YN's gentle hands on his back, sliding up and down smoothly, making Ace's body fall in relief and in love, but in the end, Ace gave lots of kisses and affection and received lots of kisses and affection

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Y'all

I have so much to scream about (later, unfortunately) but this?!

This makes me feel cuckoo-bananas.

They are on unequal footing, Ming is literally above Joe here, and look at all of those vertical lines dividing them!!!

But then?!???!

Ming steps down! He puts them on equal ground (as equal as they can be, given the givens) AND THEN DRAGS HIM INTO A BOX

And then, says some truly nutty things, which we can talk about later, but I can't get over how Ming's shirt becomes part of the horizontal lines that connects them and form their little narrative box.

He's even physically boxing him in, but the important part is that the lines formed by the shadows and light, and Ming's shirt are connecting them at their heads and hearts. And Ming is leaning forward, not quite but almost crossing that singular vertical dividing line (even though his shirt makes a secondary box for them, with bonus diagonal lines all pointing from Ming towards Joe, which echoes the arrow made by the staircase that is pointing from Joe to Ming)

*screaming crying eating rocks etcetera*

[petra-creat0r]

Deltarune: Fool's Fate - Choral Chapel

The final area. The final destination on this journey where you will finally face off against the Priestess herself. (With her trusty right hand, the Magician.) However first you must make your way up the floors of the Choral Chapel. A pristine building with blue walls, purple halls, and plenty of rehearsal rooms. Not to mention a mysterious floor found beneath the dungeon...

A bit before fighting the Priestess, you'll find the Magician has himself a little shop somewhere before the second miniboss fight, similar to Rouxls. A certain picture on his wall of a castle in a land far away may even be used as a hint to find that which unlocks the mysterious room below. However that mystery isn't for here. Instead, a riddle.

41. I can push and prod in any direction, on wall paper, flowers, or ideas. And upon that all, report on that too. What am I?

The two types of enemies you face in the Choral Chapel are Tuxman and Fouetette. (They can also be NPCs in the Dungeon.) Tuxman, a dapper fellow, is based on a tuxedo. Tuxmen are the baritones of the Choir. Fouetette is an upgraded version of Pirolette, and its a ballerina figurine. Fouetette, alone with Pirolette, are the sopranos of the choir.

42. My word is gospel yet I’m not god, I speak for the heavens yet I can be flawed. I am a father yet I have no sons, I have brothers and sisters yet my mother is a virgin. What am I?

All of the NPCs besides Ariana are mostly encountered in the Dungeon, though some Oddball can still be found on the Baritone/Bass floor with the Tuxmen. They're based on magic 8-balls. Lintmouse is a mouse made of lint. You can find three of them in the Dungeon to get a new title. Locked Nick is a locked up skeleton, and based on a skeleton key.

Ariana is the Choir's music accompanist, and based off a piano. You encounter her during various piano puzzles spread out through out the upper floors of the Chapel. She's also accompanied by Tolle, which I'll get to a moment.

43. My brother and I can open doors for you for the rest of your life? Both our names begin with the same two letters. His name ends in -sh. What is my name?

Mocking Jay is the first minibosses encountered in the Choral Chapel, and is fought right after CK escapes his cell. Asides from being a literal mocking bird, mocking and making fun of everyone, they are based on a cuckoo clock. MJ's neck can extend out like a cuckoo clock's bird. They are the Tenor lead of the Choir

44. If you're running a race and past the guy in 2nd place, what place does that put you now?

Tolle is the second miniboss encountered in this area, shortly after passing Magician's shop. She's encountered with Ariana, after one of her piano puzzles. If it isn't obvious, Tolle is a bell. For whom the bell doth Tolle. She is the Alto lead for the Choir, and sort of an upgrade/boss for the Chim-Chimes.

45. If you don’t maintain them, bonds and ties become me. Add an E and I'll become quite drastic, add an A and L instead and I become many. What am I?

46. I have four legs but never walk. I may be covered in flowers but have no soil. I hold food three times a day but never eat a meal. What am I?

47. I can go any direction I please, North, South, East, or West, however, the way I start never matches my end. What am I?

48. You can throw me but you can not feel me, you can look me but you can not see me, you can hold me but you can not cradle me. What am I?

49. I pass before the sun, yet make no shadow. You can feel me through your hair yet I'm only air. What am I?

50. A letter and a person, I am self, yet I’m not me. What do they call I?

You should have all the riddles you need. If some seem missing, seek the pond beneath the frog.

Once all are solved, go back to the snake's page and solve the cipher.