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rene-spade · 2 months

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my man isn’t creepy! i | f1 grid

growing up leclerc au !

fem! leclerc! reader x f1 grid, leclerc family

part i: carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, oscar piastri, pierre gasly & kika gomes

synopsis. when the youngest leclerc finds her partners’ ‘shrine’ of her, but she’s a leclerc so the red flags aren’t all that red

WARNING(s); i like em crazy y’all, obsessive/possessive behavior, implied stalking/shrines, unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexual implications but no smut

carlos sainz.

“What is it?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you look up at your boyfriend. The Spaniard melted, muttering a curse to himself and running his hands through his thick hair. He felt hot, nervous for what the outcome of this discussion could be.

“Dios mío, ángel, it’s— it is not what you think— nothing bad. I am just embarrassed is all.” He reassured, big hands gripping at your shoulders. But he knew it was a bit bad, even his enabling family members were worried he’d freak you out if you saw. His movements were made to comfort you, but you could tell they were more self-soothing. Arthur had a similar habit whenever you got upset with him, too.

You only frowned, but it fueled Carlos’ panic.

“Mi amor, I will do whatever you ask-! You know this. I will let you in when it’s cleaned, I swear it.” He pulled you into his chest, arms fully embracing you. But you squirmed out of his hold, making him respond with an unhappy attempt to coo you back into comfort.

“You’re hiding something in there, Carlos. This is the first time I’m staying with you in your home since we started dating, let me see.” And at the sight of your big, beautiful, angry eyes, how could he refuse an Angel? With a twitch of his fingers, Carlos unlocked the door without any movement to push it open.

With a short huff, you pushed yourself through the door, only pausing at seeing at the sheer amount of merchandise that covered every surface. It was all you-themed, from posters and cut-outs, down to a body-pillow and even an outfit you’d only worn once for a runway show. There was a glass shelf with your old perfumes, newer ones too, and photos everywhere.

“Carlos….” You began, covering your mouth with your fingers and stepping further in.

“I know—! But I liked you so much before we started seeing each other and I- I am just a passionate man is all, my whole family says so—!” You cut off his red-faced rambling with a beaming grin.

“Ouah! I didn’t know you were a super fan before we met!” You giggled, mumbling to yourself in French about the various things he’d collected. “maybe you are a bit extreme, but it’s kind of cute, no?”

“¿En serio? Sí, mi perla!” He breathed shakily before grinning, “I should have known you’d understand! Mis hermanas se burlaron de mí, ¿sabes? But it was all silly…” (You’re serious? Yes, my pearl! My sisters teased me, you know?)

“What are you saying? Your sisters… something? I’m still learning, mon chéri.” You pout at him, in a much better mood now that you knew what your boyfriend was hiding behind the door he seemed so desperate to keep you away from.

He shook his head, hair messy after having run his fingers through it many times due to stress, “We should have dinner with them tonight while we’re still in Spain, I said. Let’s go back downstairs?”

“Why? Got anything weird?”

“Don’t say things like that, amor!”

♤ ♤ ♤

daniel ricciardo.

“Danny…?”

“Shit-!” He jumped out of surprise, dropping the box he was reaching from the top shelf of the closet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mon soleil!” You squeaked, jumping back as well. You hadn’t meant to scare him, but it wasn’t your fault he was so focused in the dead of night. You were just curious is all. The box he dropped was was rectangular in shape, but easily bigger than a shoebox. You shot him a sleepy grin, “What do you have there?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “Why are you up, sleepy girl? Get back to bed, I’ll be right there. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m up because you’re up.” You wrinkled your nose, inching closer to him with a small blanket in your arms. You tried to get a glimpse of what fell out of the box, but Daniel wrapped himself around you so you couldn’t see. He wrestled the blanket from your fingers, careful not to be rough with long nails, and threw it over your head with smile.

As you wrestled, your boyfriend only laughed and placed kisses on any part of you he could without being hit by your flying limbs, “Pretty things like you should be asleep. Your brothers would kill me if they knew I disturbed your beauty rest.”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” You pulled the blanket off your head, hair a mess.

Daniel froze, jaw clenching as he tried to hold a toothy smile. But he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. The moment was completely still, before you finally broke eye contact and crept passed him to see the mess on the floor. You could hear Danny gulp as you plucked the first item from the ground; a pretty, navy blue set of lacy underwear. Yours, yes. But from ages ago, you swore you lost them. Then there were a few pieces of jewelry, a lipstick tube, a silk scrunchie, a press-on nail, a red heel, and two pieces of now-hardened chewing gum. All yours from various points of this past year.

“Daniel,” no, not the first name, he begged internally, squeezing his eyes shut, deciding to just wait for the inevitable disgust and rejection. You never called him by his full first name, only sweet ‘danny’s his way, sometimes ‘mon soleil’ or ‘sunshine’.

“You know you can just ask for my things, yes? You don’t have to take.” You were looking right up at him, navy colored panties still in your hand like you didn’t even mind that he took them. His reasoning couldn’t have been pure, you know that.

You hummed, pulling at his fingers so you can shove the underwear into his balled up fist, “lá.”

“Perfect girl.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and dragging you to bed, “give me the pair you have on then, yeah?”

♤ ♤ ♤

max verstappen.

It wasn’t always like this with you— you used to be just Charles “track terror” Leclerc’s pretty little sister, a little girl. But now it was years later and you’ve become something perfect and irresistible— something he can’t live without. He knows he’d resorted to some immoral, if not a little creepy, behaviors, but it’s not like he’s one of those guys that would ever hurt you. No, you’re a deity to him. He told his sister about his feelings at one point (even thought about showing her the shrine), but she told him— “This is all because you watched You!” The Netflix show that follows a stalker.

So he took down the shrine— moving most of it into his bedside drawer and the rest under his bed. But he realized he didn’t think it all the way through when he had you in his room for the first time; all pretty and perfect and curious.

“Good race, Maxie.” You hopped back onto the bed, your hair bouncing as you landed, “You’re so tense and for what, huh?”

Max had just a little bit of shame about the whole thing, but maybe not too much. I mean, his body definitely felt some kind of physical guilt or something if you’re judging him by the shaking and sweating— but his mind was happy. You were here with him in his home. In fact, the physical reaction might just be from seeing you curled up in his bed. But you’re close to finding out how… intense he was. (As his mother would say.)

“Sorry, lief, I’m just tired and you’re distracting me by being cute.” He smiled down at you as he began to change, “you need a shirt to wear?”

“Yes, s'il te plaît. Hey, can I put my bracelets in here—? oh!” He’d barely turned his back for a second, just long enough to remove his shirt, but that’s all it took for you to pull the drawer open and see the copious amount of photos of you (some edited to have him in them) and unsent love letters.

“It’s not a shrine— I’m not a creep! It’s just some things I made back before we got together—! You weren’t supposed to see them!” He was trying to shove some of the papers back in, but you were already skimming one of the letters.

“Mijn hart,” he winced at seeing the one you had— one of the more unhinged ones. The worst of it was in Dutch, so that worked out for him at least.

“Oh c’mon, Maxie! It’s kind of sweet! You had such a big crush on me! It’s a little hot, even.”

He grew even more red and fidgety at that, “Shit.”

You giggled at the words you could understand before he wrestled the page out of your grip. You grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could stray too far.

“From Max Verstappen-Leclerc, hm?”

♤ ♤ ♤

oscar piastri.

“Can’t I just grab a hoodie, Osc?” You questioned as he held you in place on the counter, from his spot between your legs, still in his race suit.

“You don’t need one, Lovey, it’s hot.” He pressed himself into you so he could feel you breathe better. You’d asked for a jacket the moment you’d entered his freezing trailer just after the race. He saw you go for the closet and quickly redirected you onto the counter.

“Non, you’re hot because you just raced in a little car for hours and now you’re all over me. I am normal temperature.”

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Then get closer, I’m hot.”

You huff obnoxiously like the pretty spoiled girl you are and Oscar can feel the rush of serotonin he got just from the sound. He knew this is the part where you’d get cute and pretend to pick a fight, his sweet thing. But bad timing— he’s desperate to hide his secret now.

“I can’t get any closer to you if I trieddd. What? You have a girl hiding in that closet? Hm?” He scoffed into your shoulder, but stiffened, knowing just what was behind that door.

You gasped dramatically, likely playing it up to get what you wanted (a tactic you used with your brothers, Oscar noticed), “You do! Irréelle!”

“I don’t!” His face shot up from your shoulder, brows furrowed, but he didn’t let you go, “You know I don’t like any other girls!”

“Then you need to show me so I can be sure! And I’m still cold.” You crossed your arms and pulled your knees together to get him to back up.

“I can’t.” He choked out. “There’s— it’s just— I have this thing—”

You hopped down and booked it across the trailer before he could reach out and stop you, yanking the door open to see what your new boyfriend was hiding.

You breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief at the sight, “Goodness, Osc.” Rather than finding a person, you instead found some sort of… collection? Collage of yourself and your things? Photos mostly, magazines, and lots of hearts drawn on articles about you.

Oscar grabbed you by the shoulders and quickly spun you around into him, slamming the door, “You saw?”

Looking up at him with big eyes, you nodded, “Yeah, why? You really like me that much?”

“What? Yes— yeah I do. You—? Okay.”

♤ ♤ ♤

pierre gasly. | kika gomes.

“I’m prepared to blame you for this if Charles finds it.” Pierre breathed, looking at the start of his girlfriend’s collection of your things. Kika scoffed, a smile playing at her lips as she re-organizes your makeup. Mostly lip balms, you’d let her borrow some of your things, not knowing she wasn’t going to give any of it back. Kika even managed to get a few skirts from you as well. The small framed photo of you sitting in her vanity was just a personal touch.

Pierre would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, but he could say he wasn’t surprised. He and Kika were a good couple, a good duo in general, but especially when it came to drawing you in. Because Pierre was such a good friend to Charles, it came pretty easy; Charles was easier on him around you. Unfortunately, that grace didn’t extend to Kika just because they were dating. Charles had something of a sixth sense for when pretty girls liked his pretty sister; so he was on to Kika. Where at the beginning it was nothing to get you alone with them, it was now next to impossible.

“Pierre? Kika? Are you home?” Wow it’s like they could hear your pretty voice— oh wait they gave you a key. To their apartment. In Monaco, where you live and you can really just waltz in and see all of the things they took (—yes they, Pierre is a thief too—)

Like two naughty school children, the couple shot up to cover what they’d done before you could reach their bedroom. This was their fault naturally, none of yours at all, they were the ones who encouraged you to come over whenever physically possible.

“Grab everything and I’ll distract her!” Kika whispered, rushing to slip out of the room.

Before the ‘not fair-’ could slip from his lips, his girlfriend was off to catch you, brushing passed him and leaving the door cracked. He could hear your surprised greeting, a cute squeak escaping you, before Kika saying something like ‘Oh, Pierre is busy now’, then silence. Pulling the handle back just an inch, he peaked outside to see Kika’s lips not even a centimeter from your own, her hands gripping your jacket for dear life.

“Oh, pretty girls, ce n'est tout simplement pas juste.” Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Your eyes shot to his, but Kika’s remained trained on your face. After just a second, your gaze drifted to Kika’s vanity behind him.

The couple froze, you saw. Pierre pulled the door shut behind him as Kika’s mouth opened to form words.

“Oi! Get your hands off my little sister, huh? Démon impoli et pratique, seriously.” Charles slipped into the living room from the front hallway, having obviously accompanied his little sister in her visit.

“Non, Charlie, Kika helped me when I almost tripped.” You smiled at your brother, quickly covering for them, “I was just coming to see if I could get my jean skirt back?”

You looked up at her so sweet and she thinks you’re blushing—“Oh.” She squeaked, “yes, no problem. Pierre.”

“I’ll get it for her, mate.”

“surveille ta copine. je ne suis pas aveugle, mate.”

♤ ♤ ♤

Your man (s girlfriend) is definitely creepy, girl.

note; I made kika and pierres a lil longer bc they’re two ppl so yeah ft charles

thinking part ii with lando, mick (ft the schumachers), lewis, lance, alex & lily, george and carmen?

- ren

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mrfoox · 1 year

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Me: I don't have abandonment issues (:

Also me: -have always kept the belief that everyone will sooner or later get tired of me and leave and no one i love is here to stay-

#miranda talking shit #Negative #Im fairly sure i have adopted this pov/expectations early on bc though i never... Actively worry about it i also #Never fully accept that i wont be? Like any relationship i always have somewhere in my mind the idea that they will leave one day #And lets not talk about how i always try to please everyone i like and always adjust to them... Everything you want goes! Im down for #Anything you want! And anytime i hear a change in tone or behavior thats more than just 2-3 seconds i freak out badly #And will 8/10 times break down crying and apologize for whatever i image i did wrong...#I forget the brain sets up different systems to protect us from 'harm' and im fairly sure this is one my brain built me #Cant get completely destroyed by being left if you already know and expect it before hand ? Its sad to think about #Because i actually... Can say i have had this way of thinking from my young teens. I still get super sad when i am left but bc i always hav #That fact in the back of my mind... Im never caught off guard or find it surprising its just... Ah yes here it is. Still hurts like a bitch

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darkbluekies · 3 months

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This is going to be interesting fr, like how much differently do your ocs treat the reader if they were childhood friends. I’m super excited! Also can’t wait to see Jerry again ❤️

Warnings: violence, murder, unstable home life, bullying

Silas:

Being Silas's childhood friend guarantees you a bodyguard. He doesn't let anyone get close to you. You don't ever have to worry about the fact that anyone will bully you, because Silas will obliviate them. He's the type to let you lean on his shoulder in class whenever you feel tired. He will ditch school with you and go to the zoo if you want to.

People around you will try to separate the two of you. “Silas isn't a good influence”, they say, and doesn't want his behavioral problems to rub off on you, or for you to get in danger. There are speculations that Silas is involved in criminal gangs — and if someone asks you, you won't deny it. But Silas won't let anyone take you from him, won't let anyone touch you. You always have his arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, always claimed by him.

“I'm going to bash that kid's skull in, I'm not fucking joking. If they dare to to touch you — no — if he as much as breathe near you, I'll send them to the nurses office. Lean your head on me, Y/N, its okay. Does your hand still hurt? I cant believe that he fucking stepped on it. It doesn't matter if it was a mistake. I'll cut his off.”

Dr Kry:

There is something off about him, and everyone can see that. He sits back straight, hands together, and always in clean, ironed clothes. His hair is always brushed and fixed, he hates germs and people. And he hates it all, he really does. The only friend he has, is you. The only one he doesn't think is dirty, is you. You know that the reason he sits and talks like a robot is because of how strict his parents are. There has been multiple times where he has dirtied his clothes while playing with you, and has panicked. You help him clean them before going home, and when touching him you make sure to wipe your hands with a cloth — even if you know that he doesn't mind your germs. You know how he doesn't like to be touched, so you never hug him or linger on too long, which is just why Kry likes you so much.

You are the only one who knows about his author's dreams. His parents want him to become a doctor, or a lawyer, and you know he's interested in medicine, but he wants to be able to write. He wants to write sci-fi stories, and you are the only one that knows it.

You get teased by others for being with the “clean freak” but it doesn't bother you. However, it does bother Kry. After someone has been mean to you, they always end up in the hospital, one way or another. You can't help but wonder if it's your shy, sweet friend who's behind it.

“I like having picnics with you. Oh, you forgot the other fork? No, don't apologize, I understand that it was a mistake. We can share a fork, I'm okay. Yes, it's fine, I don't mind … you're so nice, wiping the fork for me, you don't have to do that ...”

King Edmund:

If you are Edmund’s friend while he's the crown prince, you need a lot of patience. He is spoiled rotten, entitled and unpleasant to be around. Everything is on his terms. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't value you. He is locked in his room day in and day out with a private tutor, completely isolated from everyone else. He will throw fits and threaten not to do his classes, unless he is allowed to play with you. So, they bring you to the castle where you get to live from now on.

Edmund absolutely loves to spend time with you. You ride horses together, torment the staff, play pranks and read. When he can't sleep, he walks into your room and crawls under the sheets.

You're with him when his parents are murdered. Edmund's first instinct when the castle is attacked is to run to your room, wake you up and hide the two of you. He is equipped with a sword and will protect you to the last moments.

Although the two of you are isolated, there are people in the staff making fun of you, or talking bad. Edmund doesn't even hide the fact that he orders for their deaths.

“I fucking hate classes, and I hate that tutor. It's so boring. I wish you could take the classes with me, it'd be so much more fun. After class, can't we do something? Can't we go down to the fountain and read? I want you to read for me. You're the only one that reads the story right, that does them justice. Everyone else sounds like fucking donkeys.”

Jerry:

Jerry goes to an all girls school in South Korea. You don't go to the same school — which is probably for the best. Jerry is the leader of her little gang, and they are notorious for their bullying. She is a bully for fun, but won't allow any of her friends to make fun of you. If they do, she will ruin their lives. You do know about her life outside the school though, you have been with her when she steals from stores (often makeup stores). You often meet her after school and go to the mall or amusement parks together. She's a very sweet person to be around when it's just the two of you.

You're friends with her before she starts to call herself ‘Jerry’ — when she's still ‘Yubin’. She had seen the name in a TV series and liked the character. She says that she is going to move to the US, and then she wanted an english name.

You're often with Jerry's friend group on weekend nights, often strolling around the town with alcohol and cigarettes, sometimes breaking stuff. Jerry makes sure that if they're ever caught, her and you slip away. She finds it all extremely exciting.

Jerry escapes to you when she gets to know that her parents (and perhaps sister if i want to give her one) have been murdered by a rival, when she has involved herself in criminal activities for real. It's the first time you get to see Jerry break down. She's in your arms, crying heavily, admitting how scared she is and how much she misses her parents. She loves her family, and now there is nothing left of it. She says that she died that day, and that whoever is inhabiting her body now is a fraction of who she once was.

“You're such a fresh wind from that fucking girl school. Why do I have to go there? Why am I not allowed to join a coed school? What? Why my nails have blood under them? No, I didn't get into a fight again. I didn't. I promise. Get up, let's go get sushi, I'm starving.”

Hedwig:

If you're a childhood friend of Hedwig, you're basically a family member. You go on her family's expensive vacations, just because Hedwig doesn't want to be alone.

You play every day and go through all stages of life together. Hedwig has always been the sweetest human you've ever known, and it surprises you when you see her angry. The many, many years you've been friends, you've only seen her angry a handful of times. You go to summer camps together, share beds, share everything. Teachers ask for the other when one is gone (which is rare).

Being childhood friends with Hedwig would most likely end in romance at one time, so she would win without having to do anything harsh. But if you started developing crushes other than Hedwig before, she would ruin their reputation until you wouldn't want to look at them anymore, but no one would know that it was Hedwig.

Hedwig has always been very popular, both for her money and looks, and by default, you've been too because you're her best friend. Hedwig likes to see how nice everyone is to you, because they know better than to upset you. No one wants to get out of the magical bubble that is Hedwig’s popularity.

“We will be friends forever, won't we? I don't think I could live without you, Y/N. You're the other half of my soul. If I don't have you nearby, I can't breathe.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere doctor #yandere female #yandere imagine #yandere headcanon

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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You can't leave us hanging like this pls give us 141 pet reader doing something (accidentally or even being framed) and price getting really mad. LIKE REALLY ANGRY, smoke coming out of his ears, he even pops a blood vessel or sum. And there's soap or gaz who try to hide her from price while he's ANGRY. 🫦👏🙌

Pet reader accidentally throwing or tearing apart some very important papers...she didn't know any better, to her, all the documents they have are the same! Price was doing paperwork while keeping you locked in your office, so you started to get bored, and, well, it never ever ends like you want it to end...you honestly didn't think that spilling coffee on some reports is such a big deal. Or spilling coffee on the reports and some transmission device that was super important to monsters because it led them to human hideouts...now Price almost believes you are actually a spy who is working for the human resistance. He doesn't want to believe that, he loves you too much, but...you're either this or just extra super dumb - and he doesn't want to call you dumb, mind you, he is just...a bit disbelieved. You are running away because he is angry, pissed, he is terrifying to look at and you never wanted to end up on this side of his anger - you never thought you'd be the one to receive it. You tried so hard to be on your best behavior, but now it's like you've been framed for betraying them and it deems a very harsh punishment. Soap and Gaz is hiding you - for the price, of course, you know how cruel they can be while not having their libido in check, but it's still better than to deal with Price who might actually break your legs this time. Not allowing you to heal properly either - just having you as their limp doll, stuck in your nest with nothing to do but to wait for them to breed you. At least they've been hiding you for long enough that Price's anger is subdued. They have caught the humans anyway, and none of them even heard about you - you can't possibly be a traitor, but your clumsiness still leaves bad taste in his mouth. He doesn't want to be like this, honestly, he knows you don't deserve such harsh treatment - but bad pups needs to be taught a lesson, and even though he is slightly less angry than he was before, he will still woop your ass for just being so freaking careless. You can expect a broken leg as the lightest of the punishments - you're essentially stuck in the nest for the nearest future.

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zoe-oneesama · 6 months

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I also think the recent ep where Mari is scolded for not improving Chloe's behavior as a class rep, is not fair. A class rep is there to be the voice for the students and act as a form of communication, not mentor or educate another child. Mari also became class rep to stop Chloe's bullying, not reform her or give her therapy. I can't believe they (the class) actually gave the class rep position to Lila, even Marinette has done so much for them, and little Miss Liar is only full of hot air. Side eye

The Class Rep thing in "Revelation" was so dumb in all aspects, like, FIRST of all-

Lila cannot seriously be bringing up that it's "undiplomatic" that they held elections without her when she wasn't even going to Francois Dupont yet, are you trying to look me in the face and tell me "Volpina" happened before FREAKING "Darkblade"?! (And obviously no one brings up this fact when she's talking nonsense)

WHY is Bustier even entertaining this garbage when there's two weeks of school left?! Like, sorry Lila, try again in high school if you can even get in with your attendance record. The only things left for the Class Rep to even do is the Student -Teacher Career Course planning which sounds super important and like a really dumb thing to suddenly hand over to two people who haven't been preparing for it in the slightest!

Marinette is running on the "Actually this is pointless, I've done great as a class president because it's actually not my job to change Chloe for the better, especially when Bustier, her parents, and Ladybug herself couldn't get her to pull her head out of her ass, so I'm going to spend my time on things that actually matter and will have results" and legit why does anyone care about "improving Chloe" when in TWO WEEKS they will be at TOTALLY DIFFERENT SCHOOLS and hopefully NEVER have to see her in person again?! Though realistically she should be running on the "we have two weeks left why are we even here" campaign.

And Lila is running on the "Chloe can change if someone just worked with her instead of spending all their time on their own romance like a selfish jerk" platform and the class eats this up just because Chloe is "willing" to be Lila's deputy. Except Lila has been hanging out with and being friends with Chloe since freaking "Penalteam"! And guess who's still an asshole despite your "influence" Lila?! OH RIGHT, YOUR NEW DEPUTY! Hell, "Adoration" JUST happened 3 episodes ago where Chloe was framing Marinette for theft! Your "influence" isn't worth SHIT to anyone paying attention!

Now, Lila's only going for the President role so she can fuck everyone over in "Confrontation", so obviously this stupid campaign was going to happen and Lila was going to win just to set up the Big Bang where Lila exposes herself. Who cares that it stretches suspension of belief past it's limits, that's just the Gold Standard when it comes to Lila schemes.

Anyway, can't wait for her grand plans as The Villain of the next arc. -_-

#ml salt #revelation salt #writing salt

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xzaddyzanakinx · 13 days

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Nine: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, nude vids/pics, rape mentioned (somnophilia), gen. sexual content, Panic/Anxiety Attack, forced nudity [Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin/Ghost having thoughts?? Unselfish ones?? Luke can’t stop roasting/sassing you [diary entries from Ani] [texting/letters/notes]extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: August 10th

I think enough time has passed. I think you’re ready to see Ghost again.

I thought it would take longer for you to recover, but as always, the little fawn in you is curious as ever. Quick to forget fear and ready for the newest challenge.

You’ve responded so well to everything. I’m very proud of you.

I’ve been keeping up with my visits, still cleaning, still watching, still following and protecting.

Now that you know of Ghost, I’ve started completing my tasks. I don’t have to leave anything halfway finished, the dishes are done everyday along with the vacuuming and dusting. I even mop twice a week.

And change the cat litter, which might I add, is disgusting. (Worth it though because I love that little menace.)

I thought for sure you’d run and tell me that you didn’t think the alarms I installed weren’t working, but you didn’t, you just repeatedly tested them yourself. It was very loud, very annoying and I know you could hear the woman down the hall banging her pots and pans together to fight back with her own noise. You didn’t care though, you just wanted to make sure the alarms worked.

They do work, I wouldn’t have installed fake ones, that would be stupid. I’m all for keeping you safe so… what’s one more safety measure?

I just know that they can also be very easily disarmed. Even through the inch and a half thick wooden door to your apartment. A piece of sheet metal (credit card sized) and my handy dandy super strength magnet works like a charm.

You’re such an odd bird. You haven’t told anyone, I don’t think it’s really even crossed your mind too much either. You’ve begun to pretend the cameras aren’t even there. You just go about your normal day to day life and occasionally squint and stare at random objects.

You never actually go check them out though. Is it all for show? I think it might be.

I think you like being watched. I bet it makes you feel safe doesn’t it? Knowing I’m always there for you?

——————————————————————————

You know what the best part of all this is?

Ghost will let me love you in the way that is natural and normal to me. I just hope that you’ll be willing to accept that we are one in the same.

Ghost can comfortably do all the things that I’ve been afraid to. I didn’t want to scare you, but it really was difficult not to leave you things. I’m so glad that you brought that up in your list of questions because it gave me the opportunity to act on it without you flipping out.

Do you like them? I love leaving things for you. Especially little notes.

Ghost has been kind enough to stay out of your way when I’m around, but I can resist making you squirm occasionally. Remember when I left you a note, KNOWING I’d be coming home with you later that day?

Oh babe. It was so oddly intoxicating to see the way you reacted when I got back home and pulled up the footage. You snatched up that slip of paper didn’t read it and didn’t toss it in the trash, didn’t put it in your pocket.

You shoved it in your mouth so I wouldn’t see it. Freak.

I saw it all chewed up and gross in the bathroom trash. You didn’t read it. I know you didn’t. So I’ll have to get alittle more creative.

Don’t ignore me.

DATE

August 13th

For the third morning in a row you woke up to a text from your own cellphone number.

‘Sleep well deer?’

Idiot. Can’t even spell. So finally on this third day, you sent a text back and corrected him.

‘Dear*’

Immediately a response buzzed through.

‘No.’

No? What does he mean no?

‘Little doe. My deer. 🦌’

Oh great, so stalkers use emojis and he’s given you a nickname. How cute.

You laid back in your bed and tossed your phone aside, hands covering your face as you rubbed the sleep away.

The longer this went on, the more insane you felt. This wasn’t normal, of course it’s not normal. So why are you allowing it?

You could ask yourself that a million times and you’d never find an answer.

You could throw away every flower he brought you and they’d still keep coming. You could burn every piece of paper in the city and chew every pen until it’s broken beyond repair and he would still find a way to write you a note.

You could swallow every word he writes, throw it up, flush it, whatever. It’s just going to pop back up. Gross and soggy with an amendment attached and in your panty drawer.

You thought maybe it was an important one. So you read it. Quickly discovered it was semi-important, Ghost just wanted to remind you that he loved you and he was proud of you for continuing to drink your tea even though you knew it was drugged. Once you’re out of it, he’s going to set the pills out next to your birth control. So he ‘doesn’t have to fool with measurements anymore’.

The addendum to the note was tucked inside the original:

‘Good girls swallow.’

You could ignore the trinkets, the jewelry or the pretty stones and shells. But he would just move them to a different spot and force you to eventually set it in your jewelry box along with all the others.

He’s not been bold enough to come around with Anakin in your home. The nights that Anakin sleeps over, there are no gifts, no cleaning done. No disturbances.

But Anakin doesn’t deter him completely.

He’s left you one note at Anakin’s apartment, the first time you’d slept away from your own home in ages. Ghost had the audacity to slip a note into the pocket of your shorts while you slept in the same bed as Anakin in his apartment.

It didn’t say anything, no words, just a heart in red ink. Like he just wanted to remind you that he was there and you were his whether you wanted to be or not. Anakin or no Anakin, Ghost didn’t care.

It’s been horrible lying… omitting the truth to Anakin. Sometimes you feel like blurting it out, but something always stops you. Morbid curiosity maybe. Or maybe you just like the thrill of it, that little shiver of adrenaline you get every time he makes himself known.

It would all stop if you told Anakin. Neither would quit until he’d hunted the other man down and gotten rid of him.

They’d kill each other.

——————————————————————————

Anakin worked tonight, so you had plans to meet up with Luke (sans his pet leech) for a late evening dinner. As much as you loved Han and appreciated everything he did for Luke, how happy he made him, you really just wanted some time alone with your best friend.

So you were thrilled to receive a text around 1:00pm from Luke:

‘Don’t be late. I’m dying to catch up babe.’

You quickly opened the message but before you finished typing, a voice message popped up in your notifications, sent from your number.

You abandoned the chat with Luke and opted to open the voice message instead.

‘I’m coming home.’ then a long pause, ‘have fun with Lukey.’

That scratchy filtered voice; you’d yet to hear it over the phone and this being the first time… it sent you right back to the very first time you watched Scream. That icy chill that snuck up the back of your neck, the tightening of your chest… you felt it now, just not because of fear.

You felt it because you were excited.

——————————————————————————

“Okay, seriously what do you keep looking at?” Luke prodded, snatching your phone and sliding it into his jacket pocket.

“Nothing it’s just-“

“My phone is on ‘do no disturb’, because I have missed my buddy, my pal, my best friend.” He paused, his pointer finger jabbing the table between your plate and his.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I haven’t even unlocked it! It’s just sitting there.”

“True, but the obnoxious tapping to check whatever it is you’re hoping for is getting annoying.” Honesty, brutal or not, was Luke’s love language.

“Fine. I’m sorry, I’ll put it in my pocket.” You agreed, holding your hand out palm up.

“No ma’am. This is mine until the check comes.” His answer was definitive, no room for argument there. “What’s so important anyway? I know Anakin is at work.”

“It’s just work stuff.” You huffed.

“Oh? What’s so pressing at the diner?” He scoffed, “got a big shipment of ketchup coming in? Are you ‘on call’?”

“Luke.” You rolled your eyes at his jab. “No and yes. I am ‘on call’ actually. Sara’s son has been sick.’

Not a total lie, he has been sick. Poor guy. But her husband was home with him and he was being well looked after.

“Okay? That’s your problem how?”

“God you’re so negative sometimes.” You sighed. “Her babysitter hates vomit. If he throws up Sara will have to go home.”

“Ew.” He scrunched up his nose. “I’m eating.”

“Okay? That’s my problem how?” You said mockingly.

“Really? Like for real that’s why you keep checking your phone?”

“Yes really.” Giving him a look that screamed duh’. “Her baby sitter is the 14 year old girl that lives next door to her. Do you really suggest leaving a 14 year old in charge of a vomiting 2 year old? When that 14 year old is disgusted by puke? That’s a recipe for disaster.”

It would be a disaster, her sitter is 14. She just happens to be on vacation with her mother right now. Hence the temporary stay at home husband.

“Okay, first of all, 14? Isn’t that alittle young?”

“No? I started babysitting when I was 12.” You shrugged.

“Fine.” Luke sighed. “Here.”

He slid your phone back to you and propped his chin up on his fist. Watching you check it one last time before turning on the sound and putting it in your back pocket.

——————————————————————————

‘I’m walking home now!’

You shot off the text to Anakin after saying your goodbye to Luke at the restaurant. You’d refused his offer to walk you home, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment building knowing that Ghost would be there.

Six minutes later he replied:

‘Good girl.🥰 let me know when you get there safe.’

‘Will do💕’

And you did, the moment you stood outside your apartment door.

‘Made it! See you tomorrow💕’

You waited in the hall to receive his response. You didn’t know what would be waiting for you on the other side of this door, and you didn’t want to chance it.

‘Perfect. Sweet dreams doll!’

Your hand poised at the door knob, you inserted your key to discover your door was already unlocked. You very slowly opened the door, but saw no one in your kitchen or living room.

But your bedroom door was closed, boogie hadn’t meowed as loudly as possible and sprinted to you, demanding to be fed. He did say that they were good friends. So they both must be in your room.

Would it be wise to lock your door? The few precious seconds leaving it unlocked would save if you needed to run… no, no. Just lock it. Doorknob. Deadbolt. Chain.

‘Just stay calm’

You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag to the floor, walking quietly across the carpeted living room to pause in front of your bedroom. A soft yellow glow shone beneath the door, your lamp must be on. You could hear your tv playing something, not quite sure what it was, but it had the all too familiar cadence of a horror flick.

The audacity of this man astounded you.

When you pushed open the door, he was laying in your bed, shoes off, legs crossed at the ankles, propped against the headboard, arms behind his head. He looked like he belonged there. As big a contrast as it was… your soft, pink, feminine room and him. All black, the mask. He just looked so comfortable.

Your cat, the little traitor, was curled up on his chest. It was kind of sweet. How could such an inherently terrifying scenario seem so normal?

Ever so casually he tilted his head toward you, his right hand raising from its relaxed position to lazily give you gloved finger waggle for a wave.

“Have fun?” The filtered voice drifted over to you.

“Yes.” You answered quietly, glued to the spot.

“Are you just going to stand there?” He laughed. “I would come pick you up, but it’s illegal to move a sleeping cat.” He gestured to boogie who had still not moved from her human pillow.

You couldn’t help but laugh, eyebrows raised in an expression of awe filled shock. This was too weird. Too normal. Too scarily alluring.

Yet you found yourself at the edge of the bed, not really knowing how you got there to begin with.

“Sat you some pajamas out.” He said dismissively, the mask fixed onto the tv screen. “Figured you’d wanna change.”

“Huh.” You snorted, seeing that he had.

You expected to see one of your lacy lingerie sets. But he’d chosen something much more modest that you would’ve ever imagined. Loose, thin, stretchy fabric pajama pants, the matching cropped tank top, and fuzzy socks.

“Um. Thanks?” You said awkwardly, picking them up and turning on your heels to change in the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He chuckled.

“To the bathroom?” You scoffed, looking over your shoulder at him.

“You can change in here.” He wasn’t offering. He was telling you.

“No way.” You shook your head. “No I’m not-“

“C’mon little doe.” The filtered voice left little room for change in tone, but you could tell from his body language that it was a challenge.

“Ghost. No! I have Anakin I don’t-.”

He laughed. “I don’t care.”

“Well I do.”

“Mmm… not enough. You’re letting me be here. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t mention me to anyone at all actually.” He pointed out.

“Well that’s not-“

“Hush.” He snapped, making you stall. “I’ve seen that pretty little body of yours plenty of times. What’s one more?”

“But-“ your face was so red hot that you could feel the heat spreading down your neck.

“What? I’m not gonna get up.” He said plainly. “I’m comfy right here where I can watch you.”

“I don’t… this isn’t right.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” He scoffed. “Nothing about this is ‘right’. But you’re letting it happen, yeah?” He said and got just a nod from you in response.

“That’s it.” He moved his arm to point two fingers at you, “get on with it sweetheart. I wanna see my girl.”

“I’m not your-“

“You were mine first.” He snapped.

“Well, that’s not very fair.” Your voice shaking. “I didn’t even know you were…. I didn’t know about you!”

“That might be true.” He growled, “but it’s your fault for being so ignorant.”

“I-I don’t…” you felt like you were on the verge of a tantrum. This man was outrageous, coming into your home uninvited, being a fucking perv, acting like he owns the place, and now he’s calling you ignorant?

“Do you realize how stupid it is for you to argue with me about the morality of all this?” He asked, going back to his former relaxed state.

“You. Are allowing me to be here. You had all day to call the cops if you wanted to. But you didn’t.” That smug little bastard laughed. “I’ve been here for over two hours. You knew I’d be here when you got back.”

“That’s not-“

“I’m not finished.” He held up a finger and silenced you. “You’re mine. You’ve been mine and you will continue to be mine.”

“I don’t care that you are pretending to be appalled by the situation you are in.” His voice was even and unyielding, he was so confident in his statements.

“You know why I don’t care?” He asked, tilting his head toward you condescension oozing from every pore.

“Why?” You squeaked.

“Because I know, without a doubt, that if I were to stick my hand down your pretty pink panties; you’d be wet right now.”

How did he know what color your underwear is? Better question: why is that the first thing you thought of when there were much more pressing matters at hand?

“That’s not true.” Your voice sounded hollow.

“It’s not?” He laughed. “Show me then.”

“What?” You whispered, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Do it. Prove to me that you’re not soaked.” He snickered.

“That’s not fair you can’t just-“

“You’re not running are you? You haven’t said no, you haven’t come over here and smacked me.” He interrupted.

You stood there with your jaw dropped, you needed a dustpan and broom to sweep up your shattered facade of denial. How could you dispute that?

“Fine!” You shouted. “Fine. I’ll just change in here.”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” He growled. “You’re awfully bold for a spoiled brat.”

“I am not a-“

“When will you stop disagreeing with me?” He laughed. “You know it’s true. I’ve spoiled you so much that you’ve rotted to your core. You weren’t always a brat, but you are now. You like being spoiled don’t you? Being taken care of, being treated like a princess?”

“Your little boyfriend does the same thing doesn’t he?” He snickered. “Spoiled. Brat.”

“You’re just a little girl who needs a man to hold her hand.”

“You’re being mean.” You whispered, your voice breaking.

“The truth is hard to hear isn’t it little doe?” He said, his voice going back to its nonchalant, flat tone.

You couldn’t argue. He’d been right about everything and it’s difficult to argue with someone who throws fact after fact at you like he’s doing. So you took a deep breath and closed your bedroom door.

“Atta girl.” He nodded. “Show me.”

So you did, you turned around and began undressing, you could feel his eyes on you, soaking up the display you were crafting for him.

“Turn around.” His voice alittle quieter, the voice box crackling.

Slowly you complied, swallowing your fear and embarrassment. You kept your eyes closed, it made you feel the slightest bit better, I’m the way a kid would think ‘I can’t see you so you can’t see me’.

“Gorgeous.” He breathed out.

Behind your eyelids you swear you noticed a change in lighting, briefly, but enough to take note of. Your eyes snapped open and saw him holding up his phone.

He’d taken a picture of you.

“Ghost, no! Delete that right now!” You squealed, quickly getting dressed in your fresh pajamas.

“Cool it.” He waved you off. “Just gonna add it to my special folder just for you. See?” He turned his screen toward you and you inched forward.

He wasn’t lying. He scrolled through over one hundred images and videos, some of you in public, some nude, some of you sleeping. All in a folder titled ‘little doe’.

“These are for me.” He said simply. “They’re not going anywhere so don’t worry about that.”

“But these…” he turned the screen back to himself and tapped twice, scrolled and then tapped again before flipping it around.

The images in front of you made you nauseous.

You, spread legs and wet cunt, up close.

You with your hand being held up by Ghost, your fingers buried deeply between your folds.

A short video of your pussy being lovingly stroking by a leather glove. Another of one long digit pumping into you slowly.

A picture of your lips wrapped around his cock.

“S-so you did… you did touch me?” You recoiled.

“No.” He said flatly, before you could protest he laughed.

“You loved it.” He snickered. “Never let you cum. I wanted you to be needy for me.”

“Until… until I saw you.” You whispered.

“Mhm, that’s right.” He nodded. “Took care of your poor swollen pussy properly that time.” He cooed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“You’re sick.” You breathed out. “That’s disgusting… you-“

“Call the cops.” He said gesturing to your phone laying on the bed.

“What?”

“You heard me. Call ‘em.” He snorted. “If I’m so sick and disgusting and you’re soooo horrified by my actions; call the cops. I’ll wait right here.”

“Are you gonna send those to Anakin?” Your voice wobbled as you ignored his challenge. You both knew you wouldn’t call.

“Not if you’re good.”

“Are you gonna hurt him?” You asked quietly.

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” He scoffed. “I want you all to myself, but I want you to choose me. I’m not gonna go all Dexter on your boyfriend.”

“You promise?” You sniffled. “Swear it?”

“Pinky swear.” He said confidently, holding out his hand with his little finger raised.

For some reason you took it. You believed him. He hadn’t gotten up and forced you to do anything, he stayed right there the whole time. He had yet to share those pictures with Anakin. A million other twisted reasons you’d started to accept that this was becoming a new normal. A thousand other things that pushed you to believe him.

He’d only bruised your self image with his cold, hard truths about you. That’s not a crime. That’s a reality check.

“Good choice little doe!” You could practically hear the beaming smile on his face behind the plastic mask.

“Now come up here.” He patted the spot next to him. “I don’t like seeing you upset, I’m sorry.”

He was apologizing? He was apologizing.

“You’re sorry?” You repeated in shock.

“Of course I’m sorry. You’re on the verge of tears and I’ve caused it.” He said, holding out his hand palm up for you to take.

“I’m not a monster.”

You hesitated before accepting his hand and climbing into bed beside him. You sat a safe distance from him at first but he lolled his head to the side in what you assumed was a dramatic eye roll and tugged you to his side in a one armed swoop.

The action had you frozen. This was it. He was gonna hurt you. You’d been naive and stupid and he was going to violate you, this time while you were conscious, you’d remember it this time.

“Relax.” He soothed, tucking you comfortably against his side, his bicep behind your head as a pillow and his gloved hand on your side in a way that was almost comforting. “I mean it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered, what the fuck is happening?

“No, it’s not okay. I could’ve been more gentle with my words.” His opposite hand rubbing his knuckles across your cheek lovingly.

You were quiet for a moment, debating on the course of action you should take. You were in fact very much allowing this to occur. Would it be so horrible to try and enjoy it? He was warm. He smelled nice and familiar, the cologne… you must have a subtle memory of it from all the times he’d been here while you slept. He was comfortable. He was surprisingly kind.

What’s the worst that could happen?

“Before you get comfy.” He spoke quietly, the voice box crackling from his low voice, “you didn’t take your pill.”

“Oh yeah you’re right.” You moved to get up, pink cheeked because once again he proved that you were in fact helpless without him.

“Don’t get up, I have it right here.” He chuckled, reaching over to the nightstand and handing you the pill packet and a thermos. “Tea.”

“Huh.” You stared at him. Gods this was so fucking weird. “Well… wow okay.” You huffed out a laugh and took your medicine with a sip of your tea.

“Tastes different.” You said, handing the packet back to him.

“Mhm. Yeah I poisoned it.” He said nonchalantly, making you almost choked on your second sip.

“You what?” You shrieked, waking up the cat who bolted from his lap.

“Aw look what you did,” he groaned gesturing to the empty space with a few stray cat hairs.

“You- are you serious?” You started to almost hyperventilate. “Should I make myself throw up?”

Why are you asked the man who poisoned you that? Like he’d tell you.

“No, that would be a waste of good tea.” He snorted. “I put cinnamon in it you idiot.”

“What?”

“Cinnamon.” He repeated. “It’s just cinnamon. It was a joke.”

“That’s not fucking funny!” You shouted, smacking his shoulder.

“Ive already told you once.” His hand shot out and grabbed your jaw firmly. “Do not. Raise. Your voice. At me.” He growled.

“I believe you meant to say ‘ha-ha, ghost that was funny. you got me!’” He snickered and released your jaw, soothing you with his hand now gently raking through your hair.

You were stunned. Absolutely shook by his quick turnaround, this should be terrifying. This man can be so gentle one moment and the next he’s speaking to you like he’s ordering you to lay down at the guillotine. It wasn’t terrifying in the right way. Not the type of fear you should be feeling at his unpredictable actions.

You weren’t scared of him at all. But yourself? Yes. Who is this girl? Why is she… why do you like this? It’s scary because you’re not scared. It’s horrifying because you want more. It’s terrifying because you’re morbidly curious about what he’d do if you acted out again.

You shook your head and picked your jaw off the floor, deciding the best course of action was to just tuck yourself back under his arm and watch whatever movie he had paused when you entered the room.

Might as well. You’ve already come this far.

Date

August 14th

When you woke up the next morning Ghost was gone. Your home was devoid of any trace of him, no note, no gift, no messages. Nothing.

He had hardly moved while you sat with him, the only consistent movement was the gentle twist and twirl of one long lock of your hair around his finger. It was repetitive and soothing, just like the calming rise and fall of his chest.

How could he be so calm? So off guard?

You could’ve turned on him at any moment. Ripped off his mask and saw who he was, grabbed your lamp and wacked him with it. Punched him in the nuts and ran.

But, to be fair, he could’ve done the same to you. Yet you stayed there, albeit anxious and on high alert for majority of the time spent with him. Despite the fact that you knew he carried a weapon, even though you were well aware of what he’d been doing to you all this time, even after he’d manhandled your face when you smarted off to him.

It must be a twisted form of mutual trust.

Or you might just be delusional.

Either way, it was wrong and you knew that. You intentionally got naked in front of another man, while he laid on the bed your boyfriend so sweetly makes love to you in. You fell asleep in the arms of this man. Not just *any* other man, the one who has been stalking you relentlessly for months.

You’ve cheated on Anakin. If he knew, it would crush him. It would break apart his big, soft, velveteen heart. Your betrayal would rip a hole right through the middle and slice up the fabric so badly it couldn’t be sewn back up without ending up smaller, weaker, and deformed.

What could you do? Was there anything to do? Telling him to his face… the thought of it soured your stomach so badly you thought you might form an ulcer.

Telling Ghost to fuck off and leave you alone wasn’t an option either. No matter what you did, the precautions you put in place; he would find you. Not only would he find you, but he wouldn’t allow Anakin the privilege of breathing anymore.

You couldn’t tell Luke. He’d lecture you until your ears bled while he dragged you to the nearest police station. Then Luke would be in danger, Anakin would know, and Ghost would still be your problem. And if Luke didn’t believe you, he’d ship you off to the long term care loony bin.

Your sister? Of course you couldn’t tell her either. She has her own family. Ghost already knows where she lives, he’s told you so.

He knows everything about you. Your family tree, your friends list, your schedule, your medical information, banking account, he has complete access to your home, your phone…

You are a canary in a cage and he is a cat pawing at you through the metal bars.

It’s only a matter of time before one of those claws nicks you. A feather or two might come loose, open up a weak spot on your frail body. The next swipe might draw blood, maybe it won’t. Or maybe he’ll be lucky enough to bat you to the bottom of the cage.

It’s hard enough to escape when there’s someone always watching. When there’s a lock on the door. But to attempt to flee with broken wings? You couldn’t hobble your way to safety anyway. Bird cages don’t have doors at the bottom, they’re halfway up. They don’t have horizontal bars. You can’t climb.

You are stuck.

It’s up to you if you want to be trapped there intact, or if you’d rather wallow at the bottom in pain.

——————————————————————————

Maybe you should just break up with Anakin.

Ghost said he wouldn’t hurt him, but how long will that last? How long until he gets tired of waiting? Should you ask Ghost again? Just to make sure? Make him sign a fucking contract?

Maybe it would be best if-

“Sweetheart?” Anakin whispered softly, waving his hand in front of your face. “What’s going on? I’ve been standing here for almost a minute.”

Anakin was here.

“What?” You whispered back, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of your surroundings.

The diner. You were at The Bluebird. You were working. A glance to the clock told you that you’d been here for over two hours, a quick scan of the tables and the counter proved that you hadn’t neglected any customers. Your notepad and pen were in your hand, there was money in the tip jar.

Anakin was here.

“Hey, c’mere.” His voice soft and concerned.

He gently took the pad and pen from your hands, put an arm around your shoulder and held your hand as he led you through the kitchen. Not an uncommon occurrence, Anakin was well known to everyone at the Bluebird due to his frequent visits to see you. He often walked with you out through the kitchen to sit on the curb with you while you took a break and he smoked a cigarette.

“Vigo, I’m taking her out back.” He said quietly, speaking to the dishwasher.

“I was about to call you man.” He spoke back in a hushed voice. “She’s been actin’ like that since she got here.”

“Yeah? Well next time don’t wait to call.” Anakin grumbled, scowling at your coworker.

The heat of the afternoon sun soothed over your skin, making you painfully aware of the cold sweat lacing the back of your neck. You blinked and it felt like it was the first time you’d closed your eyes in hours. Your mouth was dry, your teeth felt cold and your brain might’ve been better described as soup.

Anakin sat down on the curb and pulled you down with him. Placing you sideways between his legs, your arms immediately threw themselves around his neck and you curled up into him.

“Jesus baby.” He whispered, the wind getting knocked out of him at your aggressive tackle.

“An-” You started to sob before you even finished his name.

“W-what’s wrong?” You could feel his heart beat quicken beneath you, hear it pounding in his chest. He was feeling real, true panic.

“Hey, hey talk to me. Breathe.” He tried to soothe you by petting your hair, rocking you gently, kissing your forehead… anything, anything he could think of and nothing was working.

You were sobbing so loudly that Anakin was glad there wasn’t a back parking lot. If someone wanted to see where this horrible wailing was coming from they’d have to walk all the way around back, thankfully most people didn’t care enough to do such a thing.

Unfortunately though, your coworkers did care.

The back door creaked open and you could hardly hear the conversation over your own tears.

“Anakin!” Vigo whisper shouted. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do this!” His voice angrily gritting through his teeth. “What happened today?”

“Nothin’ man! I dunno!” Vigo squeaked raising up his hands in surrender. “She just clocked in like that, no cryin’ though. She’s hardly said a word.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t call me!” Anakin grunted, “I’m her emergency contact for a reason you idiot.”

“Hey? Don’t get mad at me!” Vigo scoffed. “I figured she was in a funk because of you, why would I call if I thought it was boyfriend troubles?”

“Jesus- did you even ask her?”

“What?”

“Oh my fuckin’-“ Anakin took a breath to regulate himself, one arm firmly holding you while the other was wildly gesturing as he spoke. “Did you ask her what was wrong?”

“No?”

“Are you stupid? God just fuck- go back inside before you end up crying on the ground too.” He snapped at him, huffing as the back door shut behind a quickly retreating Vigo.

“Sorry baby, I’m sorry,” He whispered, petting your head and squeezing you tightly. “I’m sorry, that probably didn’t help did it?”

“N-not really.” You hiccuped out a laugh.

“She speaks.” He gasped, “want me to yell at him some more? I’ll do it just say the word-“

“Anakin-“ you snorted, wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. “Aw shit sorry.”

“You think I’m worried about alittle snot?” He scoffed, “Sweetheart, I’d lick it out of your nose like a cow if you’d let me. C’mere I’ll prove it.”

He stuck out his tongue and flicked it at you, chasing your face as you squirmed away from him. Despite to horrible ache in your lungs and the scratchy feeling in your throat, Anakin had a way of making everything better. Even if it was accomplished by making a fool of himself.

You laughed in spite of trying to catch your breath, fighting those awkward stalled inhales with a the goofy little giggle only he could force out of you. He relented finally when you gave up struggling, opting for a kiss on the tip of your nose rather than his tongue up your nostril.

“Wanna talk to me now?” He asked quietly, his playful attitude tucked away and replaced with seriousness.

“I don’t know Ani.” You sighed, feeling horribly conflicted. “I just want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He said, not leaving room for argument. “But I’m not letting you get up until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Please? Please I don’t wanna talk about it.” Your eyes already filling back up with tears.

“It’s nothing really! It’s okay.” You pleaded with him, “I’m just… I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff and it’s all overwhelming.”

“That’s not okay, don’t say it’s okay. You just wailed like a banshee.” He said sternly. “Talk, let me help.”

“I just feel like I’m losing my mind.” You scoffed, “Im going nuts. I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it without you thinking I’m insane.”

“Princess.” He said, his voice cracking with pain. “You can tell me anything. You know that.”

“W-what if hypothetically…” you whispered. “It’s only hypothetical okay?”

“Okay. Imaginary scenario, let’s hear it.” He nodded solemnly.

“Hypothetically, if I was having… nightmares of someone being in my house. What would you say.” You whispered.

“Hypothetical nightmares?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “Well… I’d suggest that maybe you… go to therapy? See if you can find the root of the problem.”

Therapy? To find the root of the problem? That would work if you didn’t already know where to find the problem: in your apartment at any given moment. Hell, he was probably there right now.

“Are you having these dreams because of that night at the bar?” He asked softly, tucking loose hairs behind your ear. “You know we didn’t see anyone put anything in your drink. No one left at the same time as you but your friends.”

“Now like I said before, just because we didn’t see it on camera… it doesn’t mean that no one slipped something in your drink. Stuff like that unfortunately happens all the time.” He sighed.

“I know.” You nodded, your eyes wet and sad, you knew you weren’t drugged there. You were drugged in the security of your own home. “I know, I think maybe I was just alittle more tipsy than I thought I don’t-“

“Hey, no… it’s okay.” He soothed you. “I believe you.”

“But there was no one who followed you home from the bar. I can say that with 100% certainty okay?” He said sternly.

“Ani but-“

“Look at me.” He said sharply, his voice turning soft again immediately after. “No one followed you home. I watched that video a hundred times over from every angle possible. No one else left the bar until about 17 minutes after you and your friends left.”

“Now don’t get upset baby okay? Listen I know, I know that it scared you shitless.” He said in a pained way, his face not quite matching his tone of voice like he was having a hard time trying to decide how to respond.

“Which is perfectly valid. It’s totally okay to be terrified if you saw something like that.” He soothed you, squeezing your upper arms. “I’m not saying it didn’t happen, I would never say that. If you say that you saw something, I believe you.”

“But, just because you saw it… doesn’t mean that it was truly there. Those kind of drugs can really fuck with your head baby.” He said gently.

“I know.” You sniffled, wiping your eyes and hiding against his chest again.

Gods… this man. He really was one of a kind, not just any man or person in general for that matter, would respond so well to such a strange temporary delusion. Your past boyfriends would’ve run for the hills. But not Anakin. It was clear he wasn’t deterred easily, he was your personal emotional support pet leech.

It was strange, feeling so comfortable like this with someone you hadn’t known for very long. After this conversation you thought maybe it would be okay to tell Anakin the truth about it all. He’d handle it perfectly well wouldn’t he?

But, you can’t risk putting him in harms way. You wouldn’t know if Anakin would be safe without first speaking to Ghost. If Anakin was your pet leech… Ghost was the the neighborhood street dog who’d decided your porch was the safest place to sleep. Who would be heartless enough to kick the poor thing out without a proper meal first?

That’s the problem with strays. Give them a scrap and they’ll love you for life.

Diary Entry: August 14th

Jesus baby I’m sorry. I thought things went well last night, I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I really didn’t. I guess you weren’t ready to see Ghost after all.

That’s my fault, I apologize. I should have known better.

It’s just… you seemed kind of excited for it you know? I thought we had a good time. Was the stripping down in front of me what freaked you out so much? Or seeing the pictures? I shouldn’t have done that. I really shouldn’t have, that was too far, too fast.

I see now that I made a mistake and I plan to rectify it as soon as possible. I’m going to give you a choice, one that I really don’t want to give you. But I will for the sake of your sanity.

I’ve been selfish for too long.

I’ve not truly considered your feelings on the situation, I’ve taken your response at face value and never attempted to dig farther than that. It won’t happen again I can assure you of that. Ghost will still be Ghost, but perhaps just a bit more considerate of your opinions and boundaries.

You must understand though, it’s hard to deal with this for me too. I know it’s not fair to compare our separate sides of the situation like this, but it’s true. It’s painful to watch you get so upset over something I’ve done, knowing I can’t really resolve the issue. I don’t know how to help, or fix this.

I’ve dug myself into a hole. A Pit if you will.

How could you ever forgive me now? After all this time that I have been so stupidly self-centered… I imagine it would be unlikely that you could find it in your immensely kind soul to forgive and forget my transgressions.

Maybe not though? I do see you as a godly entity, my own personal deity. If I leave enough at the altar, bow at your feet for long enough, serve you unconditionally… maybe then you would see that I have discovered the error of my ways. You could see that I am truthful in my pursuit of repentance.

Date

August 15th

Anakin drove to the opposite side of the city to purchase your apology gifts from Ghost. He knew well enough that Luke never had a set schedule, Han was always at the gym and you were at book club. There was limited space in time and even smaller proximity of location for him to safely collect the supplies he needed.

If someone saw him buying a dozen red roses and told you about it without his knowledge… well there goes Ghost. It’d be real hard to explain that away.

So he went to the florist, chose the most beautiful bouquet he could find and tucked it away in a large brown bag with tissue paper over the top so he wouldn’t accidentally bruise the petals.

He strolled down the side walk to another small mom and pop store, just to browse through stationary and cards. Ghost needs to be alittle more classy in his opinion. Maybe if his notes are on nice paper and written in plain black ink… that could ease the discomfort of it. It’s probably not super welcoming to find a ripped scrap of paper with red ink scrawled on it now that he’s come to think of it.

It was amusing to him before, but after your display of emotion, he’s feeling guilty. Very, very guilty. There was no reason to go the extra mile on stupid little things like that.

So, pretty grey paper and matching envelopes join the bouquet.

Now he just has to find something else. It can’t be chocolate or something generic. It has to be something meaningful. Something thoughtful to solidify the sentiment behind his offer for you. Something that will push you to make the right decision.

——————————————————————————

Anakin walked into your apartment, and went straight to your bedroom, it was time for Ghost to set up his apology present.

The big red bouquet was carefully placed in the center of your bed along with the pretty stationary propped against it. Your name carefully and neatly written in **black ink** on the envelope.

Your other gift, had turned into two. A small black box accompanying a short and squat black gift bag with grey tissue paper.

He was proud of his staged display, so proud that he couldn’t wait for you to see it. He was itching for you to get home, he needed to know what you’d choose. He was dying to see your pretty face light up with joy at his thoughtfulness.

So against his better judgement, he snapped a picture of himself standing at your bedside. The photo taken from a high angle to capture just the corner of your red rose bouquet, with himself taking up majority of the frame. His mask tilted to the side and his free hand held up a gloved peace sign.

He’d wait to send it.

He wanted to see your face when the message came through.

Anakin was prepared to be patient, but he didn’t have to be patient for long. He got the notification that there was movement out front of the building, he pulled up the live feed from the stairwell camera on his laptop and excitedly jolted up out of his seat before sitting back down quickly to scoot his seat back up to the table.

He rubbed his hands together and practically combusted from the inside when he confirmed it was you. His fingers moved quickly to send the text message and just as he thought you would, you paused and pulled your phone from your hoodie pocket.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, a bit of panic and maybe a bit of excitement. But mostly, Anakin was saddened to see fear. You were scared, but so brave as he watched you sprint up the steps. He shook his head and let out a deep breath, pulling up the split screen of all the cameras in your home.

You burst through the front door and slammed it shut, tossing your bag aside. Anakin turned up the volume just a bit and immediately realized that was a mistake because you yelled directly underneath the kitchen camera. The audio crackled as you shouted out for Ghost, Anakin realized then that you must think he’s still inside your home.

‘Just missed me.’ He texted quickly, watching you check your phone quickly and let out a sigh of relief as you muttered under your breath.

He thought you might text back, but why would you when you knew he was watching at that very moment?

“Hey!” You said, spinning in place, your eyes darting around to scan the room. “Where did you go? I didn’t see you!”

You rushed over to the living room window and down to the alley below, then up the fire escape, your gaze traveling over to the next building’s roof.

‘You won’t see me unless I want you to.’ He texted back.

“Jesus.” You muttered, rubbing your wrist anxiously. “I guess you want me to go to my room huh?”

‘Yes please.’

“Fine.” You sighed, kicking off your shoes as you walked over to the bedroom door, flinging it open quickly just incase he was still hiding out.

Your eyes drew to the center of your bed, the roses, the bag and box, the envelope. If the situation weren’t so strange you might consider this a romantic gesture. But it’s not, it’s not romantic and you shouldn’t want to open the gifts and sniff the pretty, sweet smelling flowers. You should want to call the police and have them haul the shit off for evidence.

“What’s all this for?” You asked alittle quieter than before, holding up your phone to read the text as it came through almost instantly as you knew that it would.

‘Letter.’

“Letter? That’s all?” You scoffed, “you did all this for a letter?”

‘It’s important.’ The response came quickly, followed by a second in rapid succession. ‘Gifts first.’

“Okay… alright. Gifts first.” You sighed, pulling your hand back from where it was inches away from the grey envelope.

The small box seemed like a good first thing to open, easy enough to snap shut if you didn’t like what you saw inside. Tentatively shifting the lid back and forth you wiggled it free and lifted the small square of padding to reveal a very nice, very ornate, obviously hand crafted hair-pin with a silver rod for the pin.

You gingerly lifted it from the box and held it in your hand to examine it, walking over to the window to open the curtains and see it more clearly. Smooth, black ceramic, gorgeously curved and curled silver fittings. But the most intriguing, the most breathtaking part of it, was the delicate lines and the daintily carved cameo in the center of the ceramic oval.

A woman standing under a willow, with a fawn at her feet.

You wanted to hate it, but how could you hate something so beautiful? How could you pretend to be unappreciative of something that clearly took time and effort to find, it wasn’t just vintage, it was antique. The fact that he’d searched for and seized the jewelry was a feat in itself.

You gingerly laid it back in its box, almost too afraid to hold it. Afraid of its fragility, afraid of what it stood for, how it made you feel. The tiny claws of emotion ripping at your throat stole your voice, you could only hope that Ghost couldn’t see your face from where you were standing or he would clearly see what he’d stirred up inside you.

You picked up the small bag and lifted the tissue paper gently, hoping it wasn’t another emotionally draining surprise.

It wasn’t draining, but it sure as hell was a surprise.

“What’s this?” You snorted, turning the bag over and dumping out a few cat toys.

You waited, checking your phone periodically but got no response. You knew he was still watching, so why wasn’t he answering? Sighing you shook your head and opted to take a look at the toys.

A felt kicker toy shaped as a bloody knife. A couple of fluffy spiders, eyeballs with bells inside, and a little vampire bat that was almost too cute to be a cat toy.

“Thanks.” You said quietly.

It was infuriating how well he knew you, he knew how to crawl into your brain and make you want more. How could you not when he did things like this? Thoughtful, well planned gifts, including your pet too. He knew that your cat was your baby and he’d taken the time to befriend her, cared about her enough to buy her things.

It made it all the more irritating that his choice of toys was just alittle funny. But you’d die before you admit that seeing the knife made you crack a grin.

Finally you decided it was time to open the envelope, as soon as you did, you understood why he’d asked you to open the gifts first.

LETTER

Little Doe,

I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. The hurt I saw, the words heard… I felt it in my soul when I watched you crumble.

My purpose is to love you, my job is to keep you safe, my goal is to make you happy. I’m only doing one of those things, it’s selfish of me to love you the way that I do. I know that.

What I’ve done is wrong, I’m aware. I can’t justify or explain it to you. Just know that the long and short of it is love, it’s not a normal love, but it’s mine and I’m giving it all to you.

There’s no way you’d understand the lengths I’d go to, the things I would do for you. You’d never comprehend how deeply I adore you. That’s okay. It’s hard for me to understand myself too.

The hairpin, it’s the goddess of the hunt and her fawn. I thought considering it all, it would be more than suitable for our situation.

You’re a saint, a deity, someone worth the labors of worship.

Goddesses aren’t meant to be touched, held, loved corporally. They’re meant to be imagined, a comforting presence that you feel all around you, bowed to in hopes of receiving grace. I’ve tried to go beyond the altar to reach you and for that I’m truly sorry.

Please, please take my offerings.

I love you, I need you, but I don’t deserve you. No one deserves attention from the heavens, especially not me. But if you are listening, if you’re willing, I’ll try my best to be the perfect follower.

So I’ll ask for a boon from my goddess:

Grant me passage on the road to repentance, or take my hand to walk through the valley.

You sat on your bed in silence for a long while, your cat coming to join you and accept the gifts left for her excitedly. It brought you a moment of peace to watch her waller around and smack the eyeballs across the floor.

So the overwhelming weight of the thin grey sheet of paper in your hand felt even heavier when she scampered off with her brand new bag toy hanging from her mouth like a fresh kill. She’d left you alone and undistracted again. Just you, your thoughts, and the suffocating silence surrounding you, the creeping tingle on your neck that told you he was still watching the cameras.

He was waiting.

So you sighed and crawled off the bed with your bouquet in tow, cutting the stems into the kitchen trash can and filling a glass vase with water to display them on the counter.

The grey paper followed you from room to room, seat to seat, from one hand to the other as you read it over and over. You could recite it by memory, it was burned into your retinas, you could still feel the indents of his pen on the paper long after you’d sat it aside, the smell of the paper dye singed your nostrils and didn’t leave even after your shower.

You thought you could clean yourself, wash your hands of the problem both literally and metaphorically.

No amount of scrubbing could rinse your brain well enough to wash away the thousands of jumbled words swirling around. You’d been trying to formulate one, just one, coherent sentence for a response. But each time you made progress, you changed your mind on the decision, you scrapped the idea, sent it to the shredder and recycled it into a slightly different, just as illegible mess.

He’s giving you an out. Take it.

Who cares if he still watches you? He won’t interfere. He won’t show up for visits, he won’t leave you gifts or notes.

He’d left you with an offering. A little piece of himself in exchange for your so called ‘divine intervention’. He was asking for the hand of god to stir the pot and serve it too. At least, that’s how he saw it.

For you it was just an awkward toss up of a bunch of jumbled pros and cons.

On one hand he was offering you freedom. Opening the bird cage and giving you the option to escape but clipping your wings, ensuring you can’t go too far.

He’d still watch, just not make an appearance… keep himself hidden like before.

This would also solidify Anakin’s safety, which you valued highly. You’d be free to have your beautiful blossoming relationship, without the worry and stress from the Ghost that haunts your apartment.

On the other hand he gave you the choice to join him in some capacity. To walk through the valley with him; would he walk two steps behind? Two in front? Or side-by-side?

It’d give you the opportunity to explore this stranger you’ve discovered living inside your mind and body. That weird itch that only Ghost can scratch, the thought of him alone just doesn’t do it for you anymore.

You’d have the chance to see who is under that mask and that was more intriguing than anything. You felt like the more you spoke to him, the more you watched him in person… maybe you’d be able to narrow it down to a few people. That might be worth the risks that come with allowing him to continue visiting.

So, you swallowed your fear and closed your eyes. A few silent moments later you spoke aloud, assuming Ghost was still listening.

“I’ll walk with you.” You said slowly, tasting the words as they left your lips. “On two conditions.”

‘What are they, deer?’ His response came instantaneously.

“You leave my friends and family alone. You swear on your life they’re safe and that includes Anakin. I mean it, I’m not fucking around about it okay?” You said confidently. “I already feel guilty enough, don’t make it worse for me.”

‘Guilty?’

“Yes guilty! I have a boyfriend, who I really, really like.” You said, feeling exhausted from the complexity of your choice. “This isn’t fair to him!”

“But it’s… it’s not fair to me either!” You said frustratedly as you blew out a long breath of air through pursed lips. “I deserve to know who you are! You’ve been watching me for god knows how long and I haven’t even heard your real voice.”

“And… and it’s not fair for you either.” You admitted quietly.

‘Why?’

“You’ve been… mostly harmless. Kind.” You confessed, considering saying more, much more. “You’ve been helpful. Despite everything you’ve done, you obviously care about me. I can’t ignore that especially now.”

‘Mostly harmless??’

‘Why ‘especially’ now?’

“You’re joking right?” You snorted in disbelief, shaking your head and trying to stifle a laugh of indignation. “You… well I mean it feels wrong to call it what it is. But- you.. you know what you did!” You crossed your arms frustratedly.

‘Ah… the extracurriculars.’

“Sure if that’s what you want to call it.” An expression of, strangely enough, amusement, crossed over your features. “What it is… well you know what it is.” You sighed.

“But for some reason… I don’t want to call it that.” You said quietly.

‘Hm. I’ll remember that.’

“I’m sure you will.” You huffed in spite of yourself, because if you were honest you’d be telling him you liked it. Your body liked it, your brain liked it, asleep or not, he’d affected you in ways you were unsure you could get with anyone else. Including your sweet and precious boyfriend, he’s too tender and loving.

“Second condition: you promise me that you’ll eventually tell me who you are.” You said firmly. “I deserve to know.”

‘I accept.’

“Okay then.” You sighed with relief and a bit of resignation. “You still have to warn me if you’re gonna be coming to visit though!”

‘Yes ma’am.’

“Ew. Add that to the list. Never call me ma’am again.” You snorted and it rolled into a full laugh when you finally looked up and caught your own gaze in your bedroom mirror. You were sitting in your room alone, speaking aloud, having a fully fleshed, seemingly one-sided conversation.

If anyone were to walk in on this scene playing out, they’d think you’ve lost your mind.

Maybe you already have.

Part Ten

The pendant that inspired the hairpin! I forgot to add it in sorryyyyyy

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

Note

Dark!aonung who gets obsessed with shy & quiet reader. She is the daughter of 2 avatars (while in their avatars) but they didn't view her as theirs, since she was born to the avatars. The Sully's sorta took her in.

He bullies her like he did Kiri, enjoying when she gets all teary, but Aonung gets pissed when he finds some other Metkayina boys harassing her.

So he stakes his claim on her, so everyone knows she belongs to him.

Mine to tease

Adult Dark!Ao‘nung x female Sully reader

Words: 4.2k

Summary: It’s one thing when Ao’nung bullies you. It’s a complete different thing when someone else dares to lay their hands on you.

Warnings: explicit smut, mean Ao’nung, shy / cry baby reader, enemies to lovers (kinda??), biting, super heavy dacryphilia (crying kink), bullying, obsessive behavior, harassment, rough oral sex (m receiving), come eating, reader probably has a huge degradation kink, praise kink, dub-con (idk about that I’m still adding it just in case)

Notes: this is super messy and the plot barely makes any sense because I wrote this with way too many breaks in between ugh I still hope you like it!! 🫣

Ao’nung was obsessed, that much was pretty clear. Obsessed with you. In what way though, you didn’t know. Not yet, at least.

"Hey freak, where are you going?"

Your shoulders visibly tensed upon hearing this stupid nickname, not having to turn around to see who was calling you. Only one person ever called you like that anyways. It was either freak or cry baby… how suitable for you.

You began walking a little faster towards the beach, like you had intended to collect some shells for Tuk. Not wanting the said person to pester you so early in the morning, you tried not to pay him any attention. Unfortunately, that didn’t always work.

"Aww come on now, don't ignore me," a strong hand grabbed at your arm and turned you around, making you squeak. Now you could see him, just inches away from you and with a dark smirk plastered to his face.

Ao’nung obviously had a strange hobby of bullying and teasing you and your siblings ever since the day you set foot on his island. And while your brothers had finally gained some of his respect after their little fight, Ao’nung still didn’t ease up his teasing when it came to you. A part of you thought that the reason for this might be that you just didn’t had the guts to fight back like the others did. Well, you weren’t exactly wrong about that.

While Lo‘ak and Neteyam had their fists and Kiri had her smart mouth, all you could do was let it happen and try your best not to cry on spot. It was true, you were a cry baby. You‘ve just always been such a sensitive person, to shy to stand up for yourself. It was especially hard to keep your eyes from watering, when neither of your brothers were around to protect you from his mean words, since you often failed to do it yourself.

And it felt like Ao’nung was aiming for just that. He was always pushing you a little further than he did with your siblings, always following you around whenever he spotted you alone and teasing you over the simplest things. It wasn’t just your looks, not your extra finger or your slim tail. Everything that you did, while trying to blend in with the metkayina clan, was just another reason for him to laugh and call you names.

You really couldn’t help yourself with him. And there was this thing, like a sparkle in his eyes, whenever the tears started to dwell in your eyes and when your cheeks and the tip of your nose got all rosy. He would tower over you, watch the tears roll over your soft cheeks and the way you nervously chewed on your bottom lip and it was like something kindled in him. Yes, Ao’nung was definitely obsessed with you.

It didn’t help that you had this stupid little crush on him. Him of all people. You felt stupid to even think about him like that. And your siblings would probably drown you in the ocean without hesitation if they would ever find out you had eyes for the man that gave you such a hard time every second of the day. Why him? You didn’t know the answer to this yourself. You mostly blamed it on his looks– obviously his charming personality had nothing to do with that. It was unfortunate how stupidly attractive Ao’nung was, considering he was such an asshole. An asshole that enjoyed teasing you.

And that’s how it always went. Usually, it was just Ao’nung giving you a hard time. From time to time, but especially when your siblings were around, he was accompanied by some of his goons too, but they never spoke directly to you. It was always just him. Apart from that, none of the other villagers around your age had interacted with you in any way so far. They all seemingly avoided your family. At first you were a bit sad about that, longing to make some new friends within this clan. But you were also glad that no one else paid much attention to you. At least like this, you only had to deal with Ao‘nung and his dumb friends.

Well, that’s what you thought at first.

Words must have gotten around, probably Ao’nung bragging about how easy to tease you were, how funny it was to see you cry, because later that day, a new group of metkayina decided to show their sudden interest in your alien features.

"Look at that, she‘s getting all shy now", one of the men laughs spitefully as you try to hide your hands by crossing your arms over your chest. What was up with them today? This day hadn’t been long, but it had been so overwhelming already, as if your encounter with Ao’nung this morning wasn’t already enough for a day.

"We don’t bite, c‘mon show us your hands", another one chuckles and then reaches for your wrist. With a firm hold on your wrist he then waves your hand around for all of them to see and it’s just so humiliating. "Stop that", you protest as you yank your hand from his grip, "Don‘t touch me…" It comes out weaker than you intended, your voice already trembling. Where‘s Lo‘ak if you need him? He would’ve thrown a good punch at that asshole, silencing him once and for all.

"That’s so freaky", the third one grimaces and that finally gives you the rest. "Aw look, she’s crying! What a ba—" Whatever that guy wanted to say dies in his throat quicker than any of you can proceed. You look at them with furrowed brows and it seemed like a shadow casted over all of their faces. They looked… frightened?

Turning around to see what they were all staring at in such pure horror, you expected and honestly hoped for one of your brothers to be there. To your surprise, that wasn’t the case. No, it was in fact someone you would’ve least expected now. Could this day possibly get any worse?

With the way Ao’nung was towering behind you, glaring at them, one could mistake it as the possessiveness a man had over his mate. And you were painfully obliviously about that fact. But that’s exactly what these guys thought the olo’eyktan’s son was doing. They thought they must’ve mistaken the way they saw him treating you. Maybe he was courting for you all this time or it was just affectionately teasing? Whatever it was, they knew by the look of Ao’nungs face that they were walking on very thin ice right now.

"Back off", Ao’nung snarls without second thought, "Or I’ll make you."

"Sorry we, uhm, we didn’t know she‘s yours", the one that had yanked your hand up for them to make fun of apologized quickly.

What? Your gaze flicks back and forth between them, utterly confused about the whole situation. But Ao’nung is only staring them down, not even paying any attention to you.

With a few snickering glances in your direction, they all then finally leave the scene. Now that it was just you and Ao‘nung left on the shore, you took a deep, shuddering breath. Gathering all your courage to look at him, you mumbled a quiet, "Thank you."

Ao’nung then finally turns to you, as if he was only now acknowledging your presence. His eyes skim over your limbs as you stand there and it felt like he was judging you. Well, knowing him, he probably did. You mentally prepare yourself for him to continue where these guys had left, but nothing of that sort comes. Peeling his eyes off of your body, he spots your reddened eyes and the obvious tear streaks on your soft cheeks.

"Don’t let it get to your stupid head, you cry baby", he says ever so nonchalantly. You’re truly confused. One second he’s calling you names and making you feel the worst you’ve ever felt and the next second he’s acting like it’s his responsibility to protect you. Protect you, mind you that, from a bunch of guys that did the exact same thing he did –just this morning!

Blinking away the tears, you begin to frown again and for a second, a wave of confidence hits you. Its enough to speak out the question that’s lingering on your mind ever since he showed up.

"You bully me just as much as these guys did, so why protect me? You could’ve just…", you pause for a moment and sigh, "I don’t know, join them or whatever."

Ao’nung is silent for a moment, letting your words sink, before he finally responds, "Is that what you want? Want me to team up with these pricks so we can bully you together?" He scoffs, his arms now crossed over his chest and you visible tense at the reflection of your own words.

You couldn’t help but feel dumb, cursing yourself for your poor choice of words, because he was right. It definitely sounded like you wanted him to bully you. Great. Now he had one more reason to make fun of you. The freak that had a kink for getting treated like shit. Great mother, you prayed that’s not what he thought of you now. Lost in your thoughts and drowning in your own shame, you let your head hang low again, all confidence gone as quickly as it came. Trying to avoid his intense gaze, you begin to count every grain of sand below your feet, hoping he would just get bored and leave if you were quiet for long enough.

"You are mine. That’s why", Ao'nungs voice suddenly slices through the awkward silence and your eyes fly right back up to meet his own, "I won’t let any of these guys harass you ever again."

His.

The words hang heavy in the air.

"Wha– Why?", it bursts out of you before you can even think about it. You don’t even know what exactly you’re asking for or what answer you would’ve preferred here, but his response still catches you off guard.

"You’re cute like that. I like that face you make when I’m mean to you", there’s a sharp grin on his face and he shrugs, "kinda gets me going."

A look of puzzlement crosses your face and it’s not until Ao’nung tilts his head teasingly, that you realize you must’ve stared at him with a pretty funny expression. Embarrassment rushes to your ears, fills your cheeks with red and you quickly advert your gaze to the ground again, nervously biting on your lower lip. What should you say now? What should you do? The air around you is thick enough to cut it. It’s so uncomfortable, you can’t help but pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You nervously shift your weight from one foot to another, fiddling with a loose string of your loincloth.

But Ao’nung says nothing. It’s the second time he’s silent in your presence and it’s so untypical of him, it makes you feel uneasy. It’s like he was waiting for you to respond, but what should you even say to him now? The embarrassment makes you feel dizzy and you start to chew on your lip harder. It’s a stupid habit your mom always told you not to do, not wanting for you to ruin your pretty lips. Well, it seemed like Ao’nung must’ve thought the same thing.

"If you bite your lip one more time I’m going to do it for you", he says, voice laced with what you guessed was annoyance and your eyes widen. Daring to look up at him through your lashes, a small, "Sorry", escapes you.

There it was. A cute little sorry. Ao’nung couldn’t help but scoff as his eyes roamed over your features once more. Now how was he supposed to hold back any longer, especially when you looked at him like that? Rosy cheeks and swollen lips and teary eyes. And on top of all, you apologized to him. It was like you were begging for him to make a move, but you didn’t even realize it.

Ahh, fuck it, he thought.

A smile spread over Ao’nungs own lips as he took a step closer and then reached out to cup your jaw and tilt your head up to meet his eyes. "What are you doing?", you gasp and the trembling in your voice travels down his spine like an electric shock.

"I told you I’ll make sure they won’t ever touch you again, didn’t I?"

His hold on your jaw is firm, as he tilts your head some more and leans down enough so his lips brush against your ear.

"You‘ll let me, don’t you?", satisfaction thrums through his veins when your entire frame jolts in his hold, "You‘ll let me mark you as mine and nobody will ever lay a hand on you ever again. Nobody but me, of course.” He licks the shell of your ear and you shudder, before he makes his way down the curve of your jaw, nipping the length of your neck.

“R-Right here?”, you whimper softly and Ao’nung chuckles. "So it’s a yes then?"

Before you can open your mouth to respond, Ao’nung leans in and gets his mouth on yours.

He can feel the tension under his hands melt away as he finally, finally bites down onto your bottom lip and deepens the kiss, earning a breathless moan that he gratefully swallows down. He hums against your mouth when he gets to suck on your tongue and you can’t help but stand up on your tip toes to meet his touch.

When he pulls away, so you could catch your breath, his dark gaze meets yours. You’re heaving and spit still connects your mouths in a thin string. The flush from your tears give way to the pinkish tint that spreads on your cheeks and nose, lips shiny from spit and bright red from all the biting. What a sight, he thought.

And your eyes, your pretty fucking eyes, they’re still slightly wet from crying, pupils blown and taking over his gaze, hazy yet completely focused on him. They stare so deeply into his own and if he looks attentively, he can see his image reflected in stark black. There’s a glint of innocence and shyness behind it, but above it all, your big eyes spell adoration towards any and everything. You really wouldn’t hurt a fly and that, that makes power rush through his entire body and fills his mind with thoughts of swelling these pretty eyes with tears as they look up to him.

Brushing a few braided strands of hair over your delicate shoulder, he places a kiss to your soft skin. He enjoys the way your breathing hitches when he lets his canine graze over your collarbone and where he left wet kisses earlier, he then suddenly bites down. You gasp, feeling his sharp teeth almost pierce your skin, while Ao’nung contently hums against your flesh. You know the bite marks are going to bruise, but that’s exactly what he was intending here. He wanted them to be seen. He really did put his mark on you, just like he said.

"Get on your knees for me", Ao’nung then whispers against your neck, from where he can feel your throat swallowing.

"W-Why?", you stutter, his sudden command taking you aback. He straightens to look at you properly and with a smug grin on his face, he tilts his head. He’s seemingly amused that you wanted him say it out loud.

"I said I’ll mark you as mine. And I’ll do it in every way I can think of."

At his words, you feel a completely new wave of arousal pool between your legs and you don’t even hide the excited little smile, coyly appearing on your lips.

Stepping back, he lets you kneel down, his hand moving to caress the back of your head, watching as you eagerly lean into his touch and let your eyes flutter close for just a moment. "Good girl”, Ao’nung coos, watching the red blush across your cheeks become even darker. "You’re so pretty like this. Who would’ve through, hm?"

Feeling heat build up in your core at his unexpected compliment, you squeeze your thighs together and sit on your heels to keep looking up at him. The anticipation behind your teary eyes went straight to his painfully hard cock, already straining his loincloth. Ao’nung inhales a breath to steady his racing heart as he slides his thumb against your bottom lip, urging you to relax your jaw. He slides his digit in once you open your mouth, pressing his finger against your wet tongue. His eyes are transfixed on the wetness of tears that are still present at the corners of your eyes.

"I‘m probably more of a freak than you are", he chuckles, making you frown a little, much to his amusement. Ao’nung can feel the wetness of your saliva gliding down your chin and staining his hand, sliding in between his fingers. He changes the single thumb to his index and middle finger and presses down on your tongue, hard enough to make you open you mouth wider. "You look so fucking good like that", Ao’nung mumbles, more to himself, "You have no idea how much you turn me on." He shoves his fingers as deep as he can manage, feeling the way your throat spasms, gagging to accommodate them as your eyes fill up with tears again from the effort.

God this was going to kill him.

"There it is", he says lowly, "Such a pretty girl and all for me, hm?" Your face flushes redder. Ao’nung then retracts his fingers just a bit, watching with half lidded eyes as you suck on his fingertips before allowing them to leave.

He’s quick to undo his loincloth, taking his achingly hard cock in hand before he nudges the tip against your plump lips. "Come on, wet it for me."

He watches you lick your bottom lip before taking hold of his cock, sticking out your tongue to lick the underside of his cock and then suckle on his fat tip like it’s a candy. Ao’nung lets your kitten licks wet his cock, teasing the slit and making him leak into your open mouth.

Your eyes flutter close but then he grabs a fistful of your hair and gently tugs. "Eyes on me. I wanna see your pretty face," he commands. You nod from your position and then slowly start to take his length deeper into your mouth.

Ao’nung groans at the feeling and he can’t help but thrust his hips forward, forcing you to take just a few more inches of him. It earns himself a moan that reverberates on his cock, making him hiss. His dilated pupils spell satisfaction from making you react and these are the final nails on the coffin that drive him to his next move.

"I’m gonna fuck that pretty face of yours", his voice is low and strained and he doesn’t miss the way you clench your thighs together at his words. "Just tap my leg if you wanna stop, okay?" Again, you nod as best as you can.

You barely have the time to blink before your head is pushed into his crotch and your throat is completely filled with his cock.

"Oh fuuck", Ao’nung curses as he holds your head there for just a couple of seconds. You quickly find purchase by grabbing his thick thighs, keeping your gaze fixed on his blue eyes that look down on you with such a ravenous expression that it makes your whole frame shiver.

You could hear the squelching sounds from the wetness built up inside your mouth as Ao’nung begins to thrust into your mouth over and over again. You couldn’t really concentrate on breathing through your nose and the way his cock was hitting the back of your throat repeatedly brought you painfully close to gagging. Your eyes immediately begin to tear up, but you still try your best to take him.

"That’s it, ah- fuuck, fuck your mouth feels amazing!" He shoves your head down on his cock again, watching your eyelid flutter, the tears he’s been so fixated on clinging to the corner of your eyes and daring to spill over.

"If I knew how fucking good you are at this, i would’ve done this sooner", he chuckles. Your throat tightens and throbs around his cock, your eyes not leaving his, even as the first tears finally streak down your face– so pretty, small and vulnerable. Just like you.

"You’re gorgeous when you cry, you know?"

Ao’nungs cock thrusts into your mouth just a little faster, your spit mixed with his salty pre-cum begins to leak out from the corner of your mouth as he moves and it dribbles down your chin and onto your cleavage.

"Such a pretty mess", he groans at the sight.

Your vision is blurring from the tears that swell up in your eyes and you don’t know for much longer you‘ll be able to keep it up without breathing, your chest already spasming and craving for air so you give a gentle tap on his thigh. Ao’nungs grip on your hair eases up and he steps back to retreat his cock from your mouth. Instantly, you inhale a sharp breathe, filling your lungs with some much needed air before you begin to cough.

Ao‘nung grins as he crouches down to be eye level with you, taking your face in his big hands before he says, "You know you’re mine, right? And I‘m the only one who gets to see you like this."

"Y-Yes, yes of course", you tell him nodding and then he leans in to capture you in another deep kiss. His tongue curls around yours and there’s just something so insanely hot about the fact that he could probably taste himself on your tongue. It’s a quick kiss and you desperately chase his lips when he breaks it to stand up straight again. "Good. Now open wide, pretty. I‘m not done with you yet", he smiles and you eagerly obey his command.

One of his hands is right back in your hair again as he slides his cock back in your mouth. He hums at the warm heat surrounding him once again and you can feel him twitch, his cock laying heavy on your tongue. You can’t help but gag when he thrusts forward not even seconds later, holding your head firm against his crotch and keeping it there.

He allows you a few second to adjust to him, before he begins to pick up his pace, fucking your throat hard and fast. You feel dizzy and for a moment you don’t even register how loud you are– moaning around his cock, mixed with the squelching sounds of spit and pre-cum spilling over the corner of your mouth as he brings himself closer to the edge, using your mouth like it’s just a little fuck toy to him, recklessly seeking his own pleasure.

Your head is spinning like you’re about to pass out, but you could feel that he was close, his cock throbbing in the depths of your throat, almost blocking any oxygen from reaching your poor lungs. Distantly, you can feel new streams of tears running down your cheeks.

Ao’nungs gaze is entirely fixed on yours and you feels the smallest you’ve ever been, as if you’re about to be eaten up— and you absolutely love it. It’s a shame to admit, but you love how he’s using you. Love how he makes you feel, love how he gets off from the look of your face and you love how he looks at you, like you’re his. Because you are.

At the same time, Ao‘nung thinks of how hoarse your voice will sound tomorrow and how the phantom weight of his cock on your tongue will come back every time you will talk. Everyone will know that you belong to him. They will see his marks on your body, they will hear you voice and they will know.

The sheer thought of him fucking your tight little pussy next, in the same intensity as he was fucking your throat right now, is what finally gets his hips twitching. He holds you still as he cums, cock buried to the hilt in your mouth as you feel him fill you. "Ah f-fuck, there you go. Make sure you swallow it all, yeah?", he groans above you, but his cum, warm and sticky like syrup, runs down your throat without having to swallow, thanks to how far deep he was nestled in your mouth.

"Holy shit", Ao’nungs heaves a breathless chuckle once he had emptied even the last drop of his seed down your throat. The hold on the back of your head then slowly fades into gentle caresses, circle-like movements guiding your neck into relaxation before he steps back and you gasp for air once again. "You did so fucking good", he coos and his thumb swipes over your bottom lip to clean it from any remaining spit. "But I‘ll make you feel so much better now. Like I said, I‘m gonna mark you in every way that I can think of. So lay down and spread those pretty legs for me, yes?"

#Ao’nung #ao’nung x female reader #ao’nung x female reader smut #ao’nung x reader #aonung x sully!reader #aonung x female reader #aonung x you #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung #avatar the way of water #avatar smut #avatar 2 #avatar ao'nung #avatar aonung

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braimin · 29 days

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This is super random but one of my favorite things in fics is when Zeff like hates Zoro. Like obviously he doesn’t actually hate him and as long and Sanjis happy he’s happy and he knows Zoro makes him happy, but I still think the idea of him like constantly staring daggers Into Zoro is so funny.

Also another one of my favorites is Usopp walking in at the worst time for them, like Usopp has seen some horrors, I know he is so traumatized and it kills me every time.

Anyway this is just me yapping cuz I don’t have anyone to tell this to sorry😭

Darling, the whole reason I started posting on here in the first place is because I have no friends who will listen to me yap, so no need to apologize for being a fellow yapper. ✨

Zeff has mad beef with Zoro, not just because he's dating his son, but also because he's so reckless. And when Zoro gets hurt is makes Sanji upset. Zoro cannot be allowed to live if he makes Zeff's son upset. But him dying would make Sanji cry so Zeff just has to settle for quietly fuming and being an asshole when his boy isn't looking.

When Zeff first moved to the All Blue to be with Sanji, Zoro got to see how much of a daddy's boy he is. Like they yell and argue and even have physical fights in the kitchen all the time, but also when they cook together Sanji hangs off him like a child, he's always one step behind him and following him everywhere. Sanji could ask the old man to do anything and he'd do it. He's woken Zeff up at three am before and asked him to make soup because he didn't feel good and Zeff immediately was down in the kitchen making it. Zoro wants to tease him about it, but when he brings it up Zeff will loom over him with a knife and be like 'And what about it, scrub.'

Zoro learns very quickly where Sanji gets his pettiness from because Zeff will disagree with anything Zoro says on principle alone, it does not matter what he's saying. He purposely only speaks french to Sanji for a really long time because he thinks Zoro doesn't deserve to know what they're talking about. He refused to cook any japanese dishes for him for a while too, just to be a dick. Zoro has lived with Sanji for a long time so he's used to the petty behavior. Eventually Zeff chills out and they bond over nagging Sanji into taking breaks and taking care of himself. And they start having drinks and fishing nights every week so they can shit talk about the annoying things Sanji has done lately. Sanji just has to deal with it because they're getting along, and he doesn't wanna ruin that.

Usopp having to live through The Horrors of being Sanji's bestie is a tragedy. Like he's one of the ones that spends the most time at Sanji's side during the day. (Because Luffy isn't allowed in the kitchen when he's not eating, Robin and Chopper spend a lot of time in the library studying, and everyone else prefers to be out on deck doing their own things.) Sometimes he'll come to sit in the kitchen and find Zoro and Sanji making out, or hear Zoro try to coerce the cook into a storage closet. He's had to witness them be so gross together.

But the true Horrors aren't always the shit he has to see, no, it's also the shit he has to hear Sanji talk about. Because that jerk has no filter and no shame. So they'll be sitting in silence for a while and then the cook will turn to him and give him the most unhinged, and vulgar description of what him and his boyfriend got up to the night before; and then ends it with 'So yeah, now my leg hurts, maybe I sprained something?'. Usopp has tried to tell him to stop, that he does not want to hear the nitty gritty of how these freaks get down, but Sanji just ignores him and keeps going. Sometimes he'll look to Usopp and be like 'Ya'know, lately I've been wanting to try-' and then break down one of his depraved fantasies about the swordsman, and Usopp wishes Chopper could do something to make him forget the last eight minutes of his life.

He tells Usopp everything, not just the sexual shit, he tells him about all the 'cute' things Zoro has said, shows him the little trinkets and gifts the man has brought him, he talks about what his future plans are with his pet moss. And Usopp is happy for his friends, yeah, but he's also a lonely guy with no girlfriend, so these bastards can go to hell with all their cutesy romance bullshit.

#zosan #one piece #sanji #zoro #Usopp #red leg zeff #every now and then Zoro has to stop himself from fist fighting an old man #Usopp thinks he deserves financial compensation for the emotional trauma they have given him.#Sanji is just happy to be here

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madelynraemunson · 23 days

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i neeeed you to hear me out on this one okay. okay okay so the song is casual by chappell roan and its about like being super intimate w a guy but he still tells his friends you're just a casual fuck. like some of the lyrics are "i've heard so many rumors that i'm just a girl that you bang on your couch" and "knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out, is it casual now?" so like. eddie munson. angst. and reader whos fed up with him being so cocky to his friends ab how he gets her off while he brushes her off. PLEASE hear me out 🫣

IM HEARING YOU ALL THE WAY OUT 😩😩🗣️

(as someone who dated a literal INCEL in high school who was charismatic to all and manipulative to none but me this fucking triggered me. i see you boo)

CW: misogynist behavior, adult themes, 18+ minors DNI

eddie sweetie, this isn't you :( but without further a due...

"If you have to go around telling people that you're a good person, you probably aren’t a good person."

incel!asshole!modern!eddie x fem!innocent!reader

WC: 1.3k words | part two here

Ever since you became exclusive with the ‘Town Freak’, your friends have constantly been ripping your ass a new one.

They were all so wrong about Eddie Munson. Because beneath the rugged, edgy persona he likes to put on every day (spewing his ‘Abolish-The-Status-Quo’ Manifesto atop an unsteady table in the cafeteria) lies a woman-worshipping gentleman, a soft, romantic, misunderstood love-sick puppy who would do just about anything to know you like the back of his hand.

Your dream boy.

"No one ever wants to date the nice guy," Eddie would say to you, alluding to himself. You’d constantly deny his claim. “But the jocks? The rabbits in band? The chess club dweebs? Oh yeah, without a doubt. Anyone but the freak."

It all made you think Eddie was created perfectly for you. That there was some sort of invisible string in the halls of Hawkins High, waiting for just the right moment to pull you two together. And when you two kissed that one day after detention, his hands snaked gently around your waist behind the rusty, faded bleachers out by the stadium, it felt like a match made in heaven.

“You gonna be my girl?” Eddie grinned into you, stroking your cheek, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Mine and mine only?”

“Yours,” you whispered breathlessly to him before reeling him in for another blissful peck.

And soon, lonely afternoons in study hall turned into D&D campaigns with him and his friends. Mundane weekend errands turned into fishing trips with him and Wayne. And soon quiet, anxious car rides became karaoke and head-banging sessions. Once aimless and confused, lost in the melody of life, suddenly all the love songs were about Eddie. You finally found the one.

It all leads you to believe your friends were just jealous of you. True friends would be over the moon.

This afternoon you had a surprise for Eddie. Just last week, you lost your virginity to him and were still swooning over how caring and tender he was with you. Surely, that is the bare minimum for a guy, but the bare minimum is so hard to come by nowadays. Cookies for Discord night with his friends was the least you can do to show how much you appreciate your boyfriend.

After extracurriculars, you rush home to get the oven going, throwing down in the kitchen to make the best snickerdoodles Eddie will ever have. And after one last look in the mirror, fixing your flirty skirt and your plump glossy lips, you set off to Forrest Hills Trailer Park.

Eddie has his headset on so he doesn’t hear your multiple knocks at the door. You knew he would be home though, dude’s got nowhere else to be on a Friday night. Eventually, you decide to hobble out back, looking through one of the windows by the kitchen that he always cracked open just so he doesn’t hotbox the place.

“I’m right behind you, right behind you!” Eddie warns his friends as he nears them in the game. “Gonna need some backup from Gareth the Great.”

Since he’s focused on his electronics, you decide to shoot him a text message. Hopefully then he’ll come to the door.

Hi baby 💕 I brought you some homemade snickerdoodles :)

You can’t help but smile when you hear your custom text-tone go off. But, to your surprise, you watch as Eddie turns a blind eye, chucking his phone onto the nearby couch instead of answering your text.

What the fuck?

"Ugh. She's texting me again," your boyfriend grumbles to the boys as he proceeds with the game. "She's kinda annoying, to be honest. Gonna wait a while before I respond.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. Pressing your ear against the mesh blinds that separated you two from each other, you decide to listen in for a while longer.

“Don’t you think you’re stringing her along, Eds?”

Yeah, don’t you think? you think to yourself.

“Yeah, but… free pink,” Eddie sneers with a tsk and shrug. “However I want, whenever I want. She just makes it so easy.”

Eddie then starts to spill the details of taking your virginity, about how you were “chimping out” underneath him on his couch while Wayne was sleeping. What was a sacred ordeal to you was made to sound like a cheap, subpar experience to Eddie. His commentary sends the boys into a spiral, fits of hooting and hollering like it was the best stand-up bit they’ve heard in a long time. Resentment simmers within you. This can’t be the same boy.

“How’d you get a pretty girl like that anyway?” comes another voice in the call.

“Pretty fucking easy,” Eddie scoffs. “You just tell her exactly what she wants to hear. Just say what she says right back to her and the panties come right off. She’ll think you’re soulmates.”

The room erupts with virtual laughter, followed by obnoxious sound effects that the app enables users to send to one another. Your stomach begins to twist, the forbidden cookie dough you ingested just an hour prior threatening to make its way back up.

“HAHAHA,” someone in the chat cackles. “Eds will do anything for that roast beef.”

“I’ve always been keen on them deli meats. Am I right, boys?”

The snickering commences again. Eddie thanks the Discord guys as they extol him in compliments, encouraging him to write a playbook on how to get a proper lay. Eddie ends up shutting down the idea. But not because he thinks it’s fucked. No. It’s because he claims he doesn’t “have to try” and that you just “put out” at the drop of a hat.

The tray of Eddie’s undeserved cookies shakes in your hands as your body begins to tremble. You’re going to be sick. And just when you think it can’t get anymore twisted, it does.

“Hey, what do you think about that girl from math class with the fat ass?”

“Harmony?”

“Yeah.”

“God if she’s into me too I’d dump my girl in a heartbeat,” Eddie swoons.

Of course he’d gawk over Harmony. Outside of Tammy Thompson and Chrissy Cunningham, Harmony Heathers was next up to bat for the Queen of Hawkins High.

“She’s got fucking beanbags where her ass should be. I’d do just about anything for her.”

“And her.”

“Yeah and I’d do her.”

"I'd do her too," Eddie admits.

That’s enough.

You’ve heard enough to know that Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson was just like the rest. Throwing the snickerdoodle cookies you made for him into the trash, you sprint back to your car and set off for your house, music blaring the entirety of the commute.

My friends call me a loser 'Cause I'm still hanging around

I've heard so many rumors That I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch

You slam the door to your room the moment you get home. And before stripping down and hopping into the safety of a warm shower, you send Eddie one last text.

Actually, you know what? It’s over. Don’t talk to me ever again.

Washing the grossness off of you was the only way you felt you could feel okay.

You wanted the remnants of Eddie OFF of your body. Hysterically sobbing, you attempt scrub off all the dead skin on your body with a loofah. Frustrated tears roll down your face.

I thought you thought of me better, Someone you couldn't lose

You wanted all the dead cells off of you. You wanted a new body. You wanted a new life.

And you couldn’t wait to grow newer, thicker skin. A new shell of you. It will be skin that Eddie can never say he touched.

You said, "We're not together" So now when we kiss,

Fuck Eddie Munson.

I have anger issues

You give the weird kid a chance, and then suddenly he acts like you’re the freak.

#eddie munson angst #maddy’s mailbox ✨#EDDIE THIS ISN'T YOU #eddie munson one shot #angsty blurb #eddie munson x reader #maddy’s requests 🍸

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mingigoo · 1 year

Text

happy new year🍸✨ || park seonghwa (m)

🍸 pairing ⇢ art major! (fem) reader x med-school student! Seonghwa x San (kind of)

🍸 summary ⇢ after a hell of a night of drinking god knows what, you wake up in the arms of your sworn enemy. Clothes? Gone. Sanity? Also gone. That is, until he wakes up before you get the chance to leave.

🍸 genre/ au⇢ enemies to lovers, one night stand au, smut, slight angst, some fluff

🍸 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors dni, one night stand, heavy drinking, party, sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, cream pie, seonghwa is super smart, seonghwa wears glasses, licking, biting, bruising, slight dirty talk, name calling, I am not a science professional please forgive me if things are not correct, language, a touch of after care, y/n is a freak but we love her, once again if I forgot something feel free to let me know so I can add it.

🍸 word count ⇢ 9.2k

🍸 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @meowmeowminnie @jjhmk @yesv01 @roe-sinning @yeritheloml @yukine-smx @y00nzin0 @8tinytings @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @hwaightme

New year's. A new beginning. A flush of new opportunities to change habits and fall in love.

Some people will do anything to find the love of their life. You, well, the new year wasn't for praying for love or longing for that New Year's Eve kiss. You had no expectations for falling into the scheme of chemicals disguised as love.

So, on the very night, as others held hands, kissed, and enjoyed another year together, you partied the night away like it had no meaning.

This new year, however, your typical party-hard behavior ended with you in someone else's bed, glitter in your eyes, and your legs tangled with your enemy.

What the fuck happened?

—

11:25 am

New Year’s Day.

Your head was spinning.

Flashbacks of the night before flooded your vision even before you opened your eyes. Your toes were peeking out of the fluffy duvet that one hundred percent didn't belong to you, your hands grasping onto someone else's.

You were afraid to open your eyes, to be honest.

Flashes of glitter, champagne, kisses, touches, dancing. It was all too much, and the minute you felt someone’s warm breath run down your neck, you became aware of the strong arm that held you to his body.

And that's when it hit you.

Last night, after way too much alcohol and mixtures of shots and god knows what else, you shared your midnight kiss with someone you dreaded.

Well, at least used to dread.

You opened your eyes quickly, staying as still as ever to not wake him. You didn't trust your drunk mind—you wanted to make sure it was….him.

You looked down at the hand that was wrapped around you. His fingers cupped your breast, holding you to him like you were made for him. Your heart began to beat faster as you noticed how he was holding you, and you slowly moved your head to face your enemy.

Park Fucking Seonghwa.

There he was, in all his glory. His black hair still looked flawless,his lips parted as he breathed. They were swollen, painted red from your lipstick. You held your breath and swallowed hard, unable to look away from him from the shock.

Or maybe, just maybe, you thought he was absolutely gorgeous and couldn't believe he just fucked you after staying he hated you the day before.

You blinked, and finally tore your gaze from him.

It wasn't unusual for you to wake up in a foreign bed tangled in a mess of limbs. It was a part of your party lifestyle, and never wanting to settle. The man that you slept with, though, was someone you never imagined would have a one night stand.

He was too good to be true, which is why you couldn't believe it. He was fine-cut, clean, and someone who was a lover of all things traditional. He wears suits freshly pressed from the dry cleaners, round rimmed glasses, and a permanent smirk as if he was better than everyone else.

To be honest, he was. Which is why you hated him.

He was too perfect. And now, here you were, with said perfect man, your naked bodies pressed against each other.

You let out a groan, unsure about how to get out of this situation. Ever so slowly, you wrapped your fingers around the hand that gripped your breast, prying his godly fingers off your skin. You breathed slowly as you set his hand down, and then you slipped out of the covers.

Your bare feet landed on the cold hardwood, and you let out a sigh of relief. You looked over at him before finding your dress that you vividly remember him ripping off of you, and of course, it was torn right down the middle.

“Fuck.” you whispered, although it wasn't quiet enough.

He gasped awake, pushing himself back against the headboard. His eyes were frantic, searching all over the room until his eyes met yours. And then they trailed down, and down, and down, as he soaked up your nakedness. “Holy fuck,” he breathed, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest. “y/n? Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. And that's when another flashback hit you.

“What the hell happened last night?”

—

New Years Eve,

9:05 pm.

“Make sure you bring some painkillers, y/n,” your best friend San said as you stuffed the necessities into your purse. “I know how you get.”

You chuckled and tossed a whole bottle into your purse. “I got you, Sannie.”

You and san were besties. Not just you two, but you had a whole friend group. Wooyoung, hongjoong, San, A mixture of personalities, but you liked to consider your group a bunch of party-hards. All except one of them.

Seonghwa, who was hongjoong’s roommate, joined the friend group last new years. He was the stick up the ass friend that wouldn't like to come to parties, and his priorities lied with passing his boards. A smarty pants, of course, and you couldn't blame him for his efforts to do well. You just didn't care the same way he did.

Which is why he didn't like you.

He also studied the brain while you studied art, which he thought was tedious. He knew everything about your brain while you couldn't even pick apart his expressions, which pissed you off all the time.

“Oh, one more thing,” San poked his head into your room, a sinister smile on his face. A face you've kissed one too many times. “Seonghwa is coming.”

You went still as he stood in your doorway, your lips only half covered with bright red lipstick. “What?”

San shrugged. “Don't know why. Said he was sick of studying for once. I couldn't believe it either,” he looked you up and down then, and gave you a wink. “Anyway. You look hot. I wanna kiss away that lipstick, baby.”

You smirked, loving that you and San could do anything to each other and it meant nothing. He was the male version of you, that's for sure.

“Come here then.” you chuckled, and not surprisingly, he entered the room like he owned it, pulling you to him sexily. Everyone thought you were dating, but the truth was that you just like to kiss each other. And fuck, but theres absolutely no strings attached.

Reason number a million for why seonghwa hated you.

His lips met yours sloppily, tugging you closer as his lips parted yours. He pulled back, licking the lipstick off his lips.

“So, who’s gonna be the lucky man tonight?” he huskily groaned, leaning back onto your vanity.

You carried on like nothing happened, and fixed up your lipstick. “Not sure. Whoever is down for some fun I guess.”

He nodded. “Of course, of course. Anyway, as much as I like to chit-chat and makeout with you, it's time to head out. I want to get there before the good alc is gone.”

You smirked, finishing your lipstick only for it to be ruined later on.

“Alright, lets go get fucked up.”

—

10:20 pm

You entered the party an hour later, already buzzed on your pre-game chug. San gripped onto you as you entered the house, having no idea who’s it was.

“The party is here, motherfuckers.” San hollered, and everyone who was in the room turned to see you.

You were sober enough to look around, looking for the man you couldn't believe was showing up. You didn't see him anywhere, and you felt a bit let down at the thought of him not showing up.

San’s fingertips were pressed into your side as your friends came up to see you. “Ah, there you guys are. We figured you were fucking as per usual.” Wooyoung cockily spoke, a smile on those pretty drunk lips of his.

Hongjoong snorted, holding a can of beer tightly in his hands. “You're so right.”

You shook your head this time, looking at San, who was staring at you hungrily. “Nah, just a quick makeout sesh. Didn't want to zip this dress back up.”

“Nah, I could've just lifted it up.” San smirked.

You were too busy staring at San to notice the man of the hour coming up behind your friends.

Seonghwa looked pained, his pretty eyes hidden behind his glasses. He held a beer in his hand, looking out of place from his stuffy persona. His long legs were covered with tight black dress pants, and his chest was covered in a matching suit coat and a turtleneck.

You couldn't lie, it pissed you off that he was hot.

“Hwa, there you are,” San giggled, already drunk off an unknown amount of vodka shots. “You're looking fine as hell tonight.”

You moved your gaze to the tall man, his expensive aura rubbing off on you. His eyes were sending daggers at San’s grip on your waist, and then he brought his gaze up to yours. “Thanks.” is all he said, his smooth voice enveloping your senses.

You looked him up and down with an arch of the brow. “Seonghwa.”

He did the same to you, although his piercing eyes were judging your every move. “Y/n.”

You scoffed at the disdain of his tone, knowing that this party was going to be the death of you if you stayed this sober. You looked up to San, who was already looking at you. “San, could you get me a drink?”

He went off like he was your servant, leaving you alone with your friends. That is, until hongjoong gave wooyoung a knowing look. “We're going to get drinks too. Bye-bye.” hongjoong chuckled, knowing he was leaving you with the enemy.

You rolled your eyes, unable to meet your gaze to Seonghwa’s fierce one. It was quiet between you two, desperately needing him to either leave or speak.

To your surprise, he did the latter.

“I see you're enjoying winter break, clearly,” he hummed, bringing the beer can up to his lips. You couldn't help but watch as they got wet, and how he licked them clean while looking at you. “Maybe too much.”

Stupid stupid stupid. He shouldn't be hot. It's not fair.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What do you mean by that?” you inquired, to which he scoffed before responding.

He shrugged. “Well, you're having fun with San and going to parties left and right. Do you ever rest?” he took a step closer to you, but you didn't back down. Even though his voice was so smooth, buttering you up even when he insulted you, you loved to play his game right back.

“Why are you here? Shouldn't you be dissecting a brain or something?” you growled, looking around for San—who wasn't back with your drink yet. “Listen, we all can't be neurosurgeons, baby. Leave the partying and sex and drugs to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, and took another step towards you. “So you are fucking him.”

You furrowed your brows at his harsh and unusual word choices.

Two can play it this way, seonghwa.

“Who? I can name a few people in this room alone,” you reached out, using your flirtatious ways to make him uncomfortable as you always do. You ran a hand down his arm, his gaze hardening on you. “Are you interested? You know I like it rough. I’m sure San tells you all about it—”

“Slut.” he hissed, his eyes black as night as your hand wrapped around his forearm. It's not a word you should take lightly, but hearing him call you that actually did the opposite you expected. You felt warm, your stomach tingling lower and lower and lower.

Your eyes lit up as they met his. “Oh? We’re name calling now, huh?” you pulled him to you, and he stumbled into you. You reached up and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Sucks for you, four eyes, I like being degraded.”

He didn't make a face. He just stared down at you, his lips flat without emotion. His eyes, however, danced with lust from the look you were giving him. After a moment of tearing each other apart, you pushed him away, leaving him standing alone as you went to go find San. Before you left his sight, you turned around and gave him a flirty wave, catching him scoffing one last time before leaving the room.

—

11:30 pm

It was a blur. You were already on your seventh, maybe tenth drink, feeling your body warm from the toxin you call alcohol. You had a habit of dancing when you were drunk, and that left you in the middle of the room, grinding on San and some other random dudes.

In your hand was a red cup of something that tastes like peach whiskey, and it nearly spilled as San’s hands were all over you. The edge of his fingertips danced at the curve of your hip, your arms reaching the sky as his lips were on your neck. Little did you know that more than one set of eyes were on you.

Seonghwa sat on the leather couch, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed. He was drunk off a whole bottle of orange vodka, which scared him a bit. He was unsure of what he would do—or say—to you. You had no idea why he hated you, but oh, some choice words might spill out of his mouth tonight as he watched San touch you like that.

He narrowed his eyes when San’s lips met yours, staring at you with so much anger he might have exploded. He kept watching, unable to break his stare from you. His eyes trailed down to the way San’s hand slid down your hips, and watched as he kissed you and smiled with cockiness.

Seonghwa didn't like how he looked at you.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Hwa stood up and made his way over to you. Within that little time, San was already dancing with another girl, leaving you dancing all alone in the midst of sweaty bodies and men that would take advantage of you.

The minute you spotted him in front of you, you stopped dancing and plastered a goofy smile on your face. “Hello there, smarty pants. Out of your element?” you asked him and began to dance again. He looked at you deeply, noticing the smudge of your lipstick.

“You seem to let anyone touch you.” He said, pushing his glasses up on his face.

You shrugged as you danced, but you were sick of him killing the mood. You reached out to him and pulled him close, and to your surprise, he didn't move away as you danced against him.

“Yeah, even you.” you smirked, grinding your ass against his dick. You were certain he was drunk enough to ignore it. “Touch me.”

He hesitated, but the alcohol took over as his hands moved on their own. He was too drunk to hide his true feelings, but at least you both wouldn't remember this in the morning. His hands slid down to your hips, and never have you ever craved someone’s touch this much.

You reached back to run a hand down his face, feeling the cold rim of his glasses. You felt how sharp his jawline was as his hands touched you like he never did before.

“I’m touching you because you want me to, not because I want to.” he huffed, but his fingers said otherwise as they curled around your dress. His head rested against yours, but then you turned around in his hold, your face inches away from his.

You tilted your face up as you saw the longing look he was giving you. God, you hated him.

“Are you sure about that?” your lips were inches away from his, his hands still gripping at your waist. You held onto his shirt, fisting it tight. You smelled his breath, his shampoo, his everything. Your vision was hazy, but you knew damn well he was the hottest man you've ever laid eyes on. “Your hands seem to like my waist.”

“I don't like anything about you,” he whispered in your ear, lips pressing against your skin. “Not even your sexy little ass. God, I hate your lips, too.”

You shivered under his touch, his hand now squeezing your ass as he breathed into your ear.

“Oh? What’s wrong with my lips?”

He let out a sigh, his breathing getting shallower by the minute.

His dark eyes met yours.

“Because they don't belong to me.”

You stopped dead at his words, feeling like the whole world stopped. He stopped too, but his hands still found their home on your ass and waist.

Your heart began to beat out of your chest. No man has ever made you feel the way he made you feel. You couldn't stand it.

Ignoring his half-confession, you laughed it off. “Your breath smells like oranges.”

He smiled down at you, hair in his eyes. “That's because of the orange vodka. You smell like peaches.”

You licked your lips, really wanting to taste the oranges on his lips; in his mouth. Something was wrong with you.

“I really don't like you.” you said, looking at his lips.

“I hate you even more.”

“Well I hate you a million times more.”

He scoffed, his hands meeting your waist once again. “I hate your dress.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Is it too slutty for you? Is that all you see in me?”

He shook his head. “No,” he hummed. “I just think you're too pretty to be someone’s play-thing.”

You blinked. Was that a compliment?

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I don't do it as often as you think.” you said to him, that seductive smile on your face he knew all too well.

“Well you sleep with San.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but we only fuck because we don't know how to love. We've only done it once.”

He frowned. “What? Really? Only once?”

You nodded, your hand running through his soft hair without knowing. This was the most you've ever spoken civilly. “Yeah. We make out and like other stuff, but I don't like him like that. He doesn't like me like that either. We just do it for fun. Anything to feel something.”

He scoffed, looking as pretty as ever. “God, you're insane.”

“Maybe.”

He smiled. Really smiled. You thought he was so gorgeous, your drunk self didn't know what to do with him.

San came up to you two, a smirk on his lips as he watched you. “Dancing with the enemy, huh?” he chuckled, a girl on one arm and wooyoung on the other. “Have fun, looks like Seonghwa isn't a buzzkill after all.”

San left then, which kind of proved your relationship to Hwa. Sure, you liked to party. You liked having sex. You liked to feel things. It was just your way of having fun. Feeling alive. Even though Seonghwa hated that you were like that, you now just figured out that he thought you deserved better than being someone’s object.

“It's almost midnight.” you whispered, leaning your head against his chest. You felt his heartbeat race under that expensive turtleneck of his.

“Mhm.” he hummed into your hair.

“Who are you going to kiss?” you ran your hands down his back sensually. “Did you even ever kiss someone?”

He laughed, and you felt his chest vibrate. “Do you think I’m a virgin, y/n?”

You giggled, his hands feeling you up. “Maybe. Either that or you're like extremely experienced and you know everything.”

He chuckled at that, but didn't deny it.

“So which is it?” you looked up at him as people began to chant the countdown in the background. “Virgin or sexpertise?”

Ten.

“Do you want to find out?” he asked, his hands living on your hips. “Or do you hate me too much?”

Nine.

“I do hate you quite a bit.” you looked up at his lips.

Eight.

He tilted his head, licking his lips.

Seven.

“Well I don't want you kissing someone else.”

Six.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “So does that mean you don't hate me?”

Five.

He tugged you closer to him, your breasts pressing against his chest. “Oh, I do hate you. I hate everything about you.”

Four.

“Oh, I know you do.” you licked your lips as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You never let me hear otherwise.”

Three.

“Do you…want to hear otherwise?”

Two.

His hand met your jaw, tilting it up to face him. You swallowed hard.

You nodded.

“I never wanted someone so bad the way I want you.” he breathed.

One.

“Kiss me.” you groaned, and this time, he touched you because he wanted to.

“I won't be able to stop.” he hummed against your lips, enveloping you with the sweet taste of oranges and vodka despite the warning.

Happy new year!

He pushed open your lips, tongue in your mouth and hands in your hair. You fisted his hair with one hand, his glasses crashing against your face. He pulled back for a moment only long enough to tear them off his face, only to further the kiss. His hands gripped your face, his tongue licking the roof of your mouth.

He breathed hard as you kissed and kissed and kissed. Your hands were still in his hair, tugging him down to you as he leaned down. You've never kissed someone the way you kissed him at this moment, sharing breaths and sweet-tasting saliva.

Seonghwa scrunched his eyebrows tight as he kissed you, so powerfully, that you didn't know where to put your hands on him anymore.

You forgot that you were in the middle of a room full of people, but one kiss wasn't enough for both of you. You loved the softness of his lips. The taste of them. The smell of his hair. You loved the way he was looking at you, the way he was touching you. You loved everything about him at this moment.

He pulled away, slowly, tenderly, as if he didn't almost break your face from that powerful kiss. It was as if the world was ending—he couldn't let go of you.

And to make matters worse, the pad of his thumb met the corner of your lips, wiping them gently.

“Happy new year, y/n.”

You stared at him, trying to decipher your true feelings. Did you only hate him because he never showed you the time of day? Was it because he was perfect, like a literal god?

—

12:45 am.

The New Year

Somehow, someway, you and seonghwa got separated in all the craziness of the midnight frenzy. You were now in the kitchen, guzzling down your second shot of champagne. You were way too drunk to search for seonghwa, but the minute you saw a flash of black and silver rimmed glasses, you pushed yourself off the counter and followed him.

The cold January breeze hit you, but your body was too warmed up from your intoxication. You stepped down the stairs of the deck, pushing through the swarm of people to see a group lighting off sparklers. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea, as everyone here had to be at least tipsy, but you saw him then, smiling, and holding onto a sparkler.

The brightness of the sparks reflected in his eyes, leaving specks of gold and white dance around his lenses. He didn't see you yet, so you stepped closer and closer. He had to see you now, but he didn't look over.

“You know that our reactions to the world around us originate from our brains?” he smiled, waving the sparkler around to make the fire move. “Our movements. Like me moving this right now. Because my brain told my muscles to do it, I moved. Isn't it amazing?”

You stared at him as he turned to you.

“Same way with you,” he sniffed, possibly because of the cold. He looked down at the sparkler in his hands. “My brain reacts to you. More than absolutely anything.”

You reached out and held the sparkler with him, knowing there was no way you were going to remember this in the morning. “So, what makes my body react to you, then?”

He let out a sigh, putting his thinking face on even while he was obliterated. “That depends on what way you react. There are many different chemicals.”

You tilted your head. “Chemicals?”

He nodded, looking down at how your hands were touching each other. His free hand gripped your chin, tilting it up to meet his lustful gaze.

“If you're thinking about kissing me,” he paused, the reflection of the star of the sparkler in his lenses. “Or touching me. Or fucking me, your levels of dopamine and norepinephrine are high.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as his fingertips brushed against your lips.

“High?”

“Mhm. Your brain is currently sending signals through your neurotransmitters. If you're attracted to me right now,” the sparks of the sparkler died out right then. “Your body will react because of the chemical reactions.”

“So,” you breathed, looking up at him innocently. “How is your body reacting to me? What’s your brain telling you?”

Seonghwa paused, taking a quick look at your lips before biting them slightly. He tossed the dead sparkler away. “Well my brain isn't fully functional right now, so I’m not sure how reliable my words are.”

You scoffed, slapping him on the arm. “I thought we were having a moment.”

“We are.”

You laughed. “Seonghwa, I feel like you have no common sense.”

He blinked. “Well, not right now. Like I said when you drink your brain doesn't work as well—”

You groaned, interrupting him with a hand to his mouth. This made his eyes go wide, and you felt his hot breath hit your palm.

“I literally hate you so much,” you kept your hand to his mouth to keep him from speaking. “I’d rather have you call me a slut like earlier. Although you look cute talking all nerdy.”

He blinked at you, confused at what you really felt about him. He was so far gone that he was starting to spill brain facts—a usual scenario that happens when he gets drunk. It's not what he wants to get across now, even though he was confused about his own thoughts.

He reached up to grab your hand, and wiped his face after. Now his lips were free—you kept thinking back to your kiss you shared earlier.

“I won't be able to stop.” you said.

He tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

You sighed, grabbing his cheeks in your hands, making him let out a little noise of surprise. You could tell he barely had any idea where he was. His eyes were dilated, dark, and somehow so lovely you couldn't imagine looking into anyone else's.

“You said you wouldn't be able to stop. When you were kissing me.” you hummed, feeling the warmth of his body that was inches away from yours. “But you did.”

He stared at you deeply, and you were able to see your reflection in his round eyes. “Yes.”

You rubbed your thumb against his cheekbone. “And you said before that if you wanted to kiss someone, that was because of a chemical reaction?”

He nodded slowly, looking at your lips in a haze. “Also yes.”

“Are you….having any reaction…to me?” you slid your hand back, running it up his neck, watching him shut his eyes tight in response. “To my touch? Do you want to kiss my lips again? Or fuck me?”

“God, y/n.” he hissed quietly, his eyes opening slowly to meet your intense gaze. His hands were back on your hips, seeming like a happy place for him. “I’m supposed to hate you.”

You smirked, leaning in to kiss the sharpness of his jaw, hearing him breathe in sharply. “We can go back to being hateful in the morning. I want you inside me more than I want to be hated, tonight,” you kissed the lobe of his ear, nibbling on it slightly as his hands tightened at your waist. “So your answer? Is there a chemical reaction going off in your body right now?”

He laughed deeply, sending chills down your spine. His arms wrapped around your body, his palm at the small of your back, pulling you into him. “If there wasn't, then I would have something wrong with me.”

You sensually giggled, gripping the back of his neck so he would look you in the eyes. “Then I’m all yours for the night.”

“I can…I can do anything to you?” he murmured into your ear, both of you unaware of the people around you.

His forehead pressed against yours.

“Anything.”

—

1:20 am.

The New Year

He slammed you against the door of god knows who’s bedroom, his lips on yours the minute he caught his breath. His hand searched for the door knob, and after aggressively running his hand up and down the door, he found it, and you both tumbled into the bedroom.

He moaned as you bit his lip with full force, feeling euphoric from the sounds he made. He pushed you back into the door, slamming it shut with your body. Lifting you up quickly, he held you to the door, feeling his hard-on through his pants.

“You said you liked it rough,” he whispered onto your lips like it was a confession, kissing them in between words. “I’ll make it so rough you won't think about San ever again.”

You cried out as he stuck his tongue into your mouth, now knowing that this booksmart boy was most certainly not a virgin. “I knew it.” you breathed, smirking while his teeth bit into your neck. You grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling it so hard that he set you down. You watched his face contort in pain and pleasure as you backed him up to the edge of the bed.

“What?” he groaned, looking up at you from his seated position. His eyes pleaded for your touch, and you did, gripping onto his shoulder as you stepped between his legs.

“I knew you weren't a virgin, you asshole.” you gave him a sinister smile, and with the deadliest look, you ripped the hair tie off your wrist to tie your hair up.

You watched him swallow hard, his black hair covering his eyes and sticking to him from his sweat. His legs were spread wide, his dick begging to tear through his expensive pants. He breathed heavily as he watched you kneel, causing him to moan without you having to touch him.

“I…” he huffed as your hands met the waistband of his pants. “Ugh.” he couldn't finish what he had to say when you unbuttoned them, pulling down the zipper to reveal black underwear. You tugged at his pants, pulling them down along with the underwear. There he was, ready for you. You were going to make him feel so good that he would never forget this, despite your shared “hatred.”

He tossed his head back the minute he felt your breath against his tip, veins popping through the skin of his forehead as he bit his lip. You licked his cock, dragging your tongue down from the tip to the base. You looked up at him while you did it, meeting his breathless expression.

“I…I…Fuck.” he cried out, his hand fisting your ponytail with force.

You moaned as you sucked his dick, your throat contracting from his size. You gagged slightly as he shoved you deeper, your hands behind your back like the master you were. You used your tongue as you moved up and down, going faster as you heard him moan louder and louder.

“I’m gonna fucking come if you don't stop,” he hissed after god knows how long you spent sucking him off, and he pulled you up off your knees.

You nearly blushed at his lost expression, his lips bright red from your lipstick and his cheeks flushed. His eyes were slanted with lust, dazed and lost within your touch. He was leaning back on his arms, which were still covered by the turtleneck you couldn't wait to take off of him.

You licked your lips as you looked down on him, and your fingertips met the hem of his shirt. You tugged it slowly, watching his eyes widen slightly as you pulled it over his head. The smooth ripple of muscle danced down his stomach like he was some sort of art piece.

You then stood back to admire for a moment, which was too long for seonghwa to wait. He stood up from the bed, his arms coming around to hold the back of your head. He was completely naked now, all that was left was the slutty glasses that dawned his face. You didn't want to take them off just yet.

He looked at you for a second before pressing his red lips to yours, his hand gripping the back of your head to hold you to him. His other hand twirled around the end of your little dress, unable to take a second to pull the zipper down. You moaned into his mouth as his tongue collided into yours, your hands finding their home in his hair. The coldness of his glasses burned into your skin, sending more shivers down your spine as he kissed you like no one ever has.

“I’ll tear this thing apart,” he growled into your mouth, impatient as ever. Before you could tell him there was a zipper, he ripped the fabric right off your body, tossing it across the room like it was nothing. You didn't even care if it was your favorite dress. The only thing that mattered right now was having him inside you.

You shivered as his hands slid down the waistband of your lace underwear.

“I bet you didn't think I would be the one taking these off of you,” he licked your lips, his cold fingertips meeting your other lips. He pushed his middle finger between them, his eyes dancing with desire as he watched your eyes shut tight. “Lace? So slutty.”

“Your glasses are sluttier.” You held in a whimper.

He smirked, and took his hand away slowly. Before you could complain, he sucked on the fingers that were just near your entrance, and then slid his hand up your matching bra, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the sensitive skin of your nipple. Without warning, he pulled it over your head, and you rested your head in the crook of his neck while his hands caressed your breasts. You kissed his collarbone as his arms snaked around your waist, pushing you backwards until you both fell onto the bed.

He caged you from above, his dick pressing up against your center. You felt the dribble of precum hit your skin, unable to shake the feeling that he was probably the best you ever had—even without entering you. His one arm reached down to pull your underwear off, so quickly you barely knew he did it.

You arched your back into him, begging him with your eyes for him to enter you, but he just looked down at you with a smirk. He ran a hand down your face, almost lovingly, but you knew better.

The minute his dick lined up to enter, and with a sharp inhale, he pushed himself deep inside you, causing you to let out a cry.

You rocked your hips against his as he held himself over you, his eyes locked on yours drunkenly. You couldn't remember when–or if—he ever looked straight into your eyes before tonight. It was fitting that he would only look at you when he fucked you.

His hips clashed into yours, his arms looping around your legs to shove himself further, if possible. You moaned so loud you swore everyone could hear you, but what made you even more turned on was that he was just as loud.

“Say my name.” he said, his glasses still on, making you even more feral. “I want to hear you scream it.”

You looked into his galaxy-like eyes, watching them sparkle with emotion.

You'll never recover from this.

“Seonghwa.” you whined, completely vulnerable under his body.

“Oh my god,” he purred, his eyes darkening. “Say it again.”

You moaned, causing him to move faster. “Hwa…”

You gripped his ass as he moved powerfully, his fingernails piercing your skin while his lips made love to your neck. You could hardly breathe between his god-like movements and the way his touch felt like fire, but when his lips met yours once again, you slid your hands up to hold the hair out of his face.

You smirked.

“Let me ride you.” you said, your voice hoarse from all your moans. He didn't stop moving as you asked, but you saw that gorgeous smirk immediately.

You traded positions, feeling empty as he pulled out of you. The minute you saw him under you, his hair sticking to his face and his eyes full of wonder, you let out a sigh, feeling his pulse from under you. You caressed his stomach with your fingertips, watching those bright eyes shut tight. Bringing your fingers down, you slid them down the V of his muscle, smiling to yourself as he bucked his hips forward.

You leaned down, your lips meeting his stomach and you moved them further and further up, kissing his chest, his collarbone, his neck. You got to his chin, then his nose, until you softly gripped his glasses. Once they were off, you set them down onto the nightstand, letting out a chuckle as you looked at him.

He blinked up at you, never seeing him with such emotion.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, feeling his hot breath coat them while his hands caressed your back.

You furrowed your eyebrows, sliding your finger down his neck to grip his throat. “You make me so mad.” you breathed, a devilish, almost insane look on your face.

You tightened your grip.

He looked at you, sexy as ever. “Why?”

“Because,” you lined yourself up, hearing him grunt as you pushed yourself onto him.

“When you call me beautiful, I actually believe you.”

You didn't give him a chance to answer you as you bounced up and down, smirking as you watched him squirm under your hold. You released your grip on his neck, pushing yourself up to ride him better. His hands were on your hips, his mouth agape and his eyes shut tight.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, leaning up from his sprawled position to wrap his arms around your body, holding him to you as you bounced up and down. Up and down, his lips on your lips. His hands in your hair. His tongue in your mouth. You never wanted this to end.

Who knows how long you've been going. He threw you around, pushing you up against the headboard and tossing your legs over his shoulders. He moaned in your ear, biting the lobe and then kissing it. “I still hate you,” he hissed, his sweat rubbing off onto you as he pressed his head into yours. “I hate how good your pussy feels.”

You tried catching your breath, holding onto him as he crashed. You already came twice, and you felt the third high coming after those words.

“You…” he huffed as you sucked on his thumb, unable to control himself. “You're such a whore.”

You smiled, your legs losing their feeling by how hard he was pumping into you. “Mhm.”

He groaned, tossing his head back. “It's so hot. You're so hot.” his breaths began to quicken, along with his movements. You most definitely will have bruises on your thighs from his grip and marks from the headboard on your back in the morning. “My little slut.”

“Ah,” you cried out, feeling yourself tighten around his pulsing cock. He pushed you up against the headboard even harder, and you felt the sharpness of his fingernails as he bucked his hips a few more times.

He came into you, without warning, and you felt the warmness fill you up completely. His breath was just as hot, hitting your sweaty face rhythmically. You let out a comfortable sigh as he moved your legs off his shoulders.

As you laid out, your back against the wooden headboard and him between your legs, he looked at you, gently, romantically, as if he didn't just fuck you for hours. He reached out, brushing your soaked hair behind your ear with a slight boyish smile.

He looked down at you in awe, unsure of what to do now. He was now a completely different person than he was a few minutes ago. His hands felt the inside of your thighs, his eyes wide. “Do you…do I..” he scratched his head. “Should I…help you? Like, wash up?” he met eyes with you, still drunk, but not nearly as much as he was a few hours ago.

You paused. You never had someone offer you that. Or any after care, in general. It's always been a hello, goodbye.

He looked like he wanted to take care of you.

You blinked, trying to hide your appreciation. “You…don't have to,” you said, barely audible. He was the smartest man you knew, there was no way he didn't know what that meant.

He looked at you one more time before getting off the bed. You watched as he searched the room, admiring his physique. He found a box of tissues, and he gave you a look. “It's not the best thing, but—”

“It's okay, seonghwa.” you smiled, your hatred for him completely gone. Poof! Nothing was there other than infatuation and some other feeling you couldn't put your finger on. He came over to you then, and gently wiped the inside of your thighs, cleaning you up slowly. You blinked slowly as the tiredness took over you, but you didn't fall asleep just yet.

He looked you up and down from his standing position, his eyes sparkling under the moonlight that peeked through the windows.

He laid on the bed next to you, pulling up the covers and tossing them over both of you. Without thinking, you cuddled up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your head in his neck.

“You should believe it.” he said softly, rubbing circles into your arm.

“Hm?” you mumbled, drifting into sleep.

He smiled and kissed your forehead.

“That you are beautiful.”

—

11:30 am

New Year’s Day.

Back to the current time, Seonghwa sat up against the headboard, looking as shocked as ever, not even pulling up the covers to hide his bare chest.

“y/n?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Where are your clothes?”

You stood like a deer in headlights, scared enough to not even bother to hide yourself. He saw it all, anyway. You remembered everything as soon as your fingers touched your dress.

“I, uh,” you sniffed, holding up the destroyed dress in your hands. “You tore it off my body…”

He squinted his eyes, unable to see without those glasses of his. He reached over onto the nightstand, and quickly tossed on those sexy ass round-rimmed glasses. The same glasses he had on when he fucked you so hard you saw stars.

“What the hell happened last night?” He asked, fixing his glasses to rest right on that pretty nose of his.

Your heart slowed. “You… don't remember?” you asked him, looking down at your aching body. He stared at you, lost, dazed, looking even more fuckable than he was when you were drunk.

This is bad.

He sighed, looking over the bruises on your thighs. “No, I do. I do,” he paused, scratching his head. “I’m sorry about the bruises. And…your dress.”

You wanted to escape. This was the first time you wanted to stay in someone's arms. The first time you wanted to sleep with someone more than once. It was unlike you.

You frantically searched for his shirt on the floor. You grabbed it and tossed it on, and thank god it fit like a dress. Your mind wandered to how he touched you, how he kissed you, how he cleaned you up.

You slid on your underwear, forgetting about the bra and quickly looked for your shoes. He watched you from the bed, a frown on his face.

“You and your stupid chemical talk,” you mumbled, fixing your hair in the mirror. You looked over at him one last time, feeling your chest tingle from the look he was giving you. “I uh…it was nice. Thanks.” was all you came up with before leaving the room, and leaving him all alone with no shirt and your lace bra.

How were you supposed to fix this?

—

January 30th

End of Winter Break

You sat with your head in your textbook, alone in the library at your college campus. It's been thirty days since your unforgettable night with seonghwa, and here you were, still thinking about it every chance you got.

However, he was back to hating you again. He wouldn't even look at you, or speak to you. It felt like nothing happened, and in all reality, it was all your fault.

San came up to you then, a frown on his face as you made no reaction to his presence. Seonghwa was right—you couldn't even think of san the same way. Not after that night with hwa.

“y/n,” San sat across from you at the library table, his expression solemn. “You haven't been yourself. Since when do you study?”

You blinked down at your textbook, reading about the anatomical drawings of Leonardo Divinci. It reminded you of seonghwa—not because of the way it looks, but knowing that the chemical reactions of the body lie under the exterior.

“Did you know that we have a whole bunch of neurotransmitters?” you furrowed your brow, your finger dancing along the drawing’s body. “They react to touch. Like this.” you said, circling the figure. San didn't speak, and he knew what happened between you and Seonghwa.

“Hey,” he reached out to shut your textbook, shutting your thoughts up. “What's going on?”

You shrugged, wrapping yourself up tightly in your fluffy coat. “I don't know. I don't know why I’m feeling this way or what it means.”

“It's Seonghwa,” he said kindly, picking at the edge of the textbook. “He’s been the same way, too.”

You sighed. “He won't even look at me, but who can blame him? After all he tore off my dress and called me a slut and bruised my thighs so bad I still have—”

“Alright, alright,” San hissed, making a disgusted face. “I don't need the details. But I can tell you what he said about you…”

Your eyes lit up, meeting his own irises with wonder. “What did he say?”

San bit his lip, and squirmed in the chair he was sitting in. “He said…he said he didn't want you to leave. When he was drunk the other day, he wouldn't stop talking about you.”

“San I,” you sighed, picking at your fingers in your lap. “I had to. That's all I know.”

He shook his head. “It doesn't have to be. Not with him, at least.”

You stared at him for a moment, unable to grasp the emotions you were feeling. “I don't want a relationship.”

He nodded. “He knows that.”

You bit your lip. “I don't know how to love someone.”

“He knows that, too.”

“Then what do I do?” you laughed, a usual occurrence when you were confused. “I want to be with him, but I don't know why.”

He smiled at you, his eyes kind rather than their usual flirtiness. “It doesn't hurt to try, y/n.”

Something blew up in your mind—some sort of chemical reaction you weren't used to. You knew of the feeling of attraction, lust, everything in between. But you didn't know what this one was.

You stood up abruptly. “I gotta go.” the chair nearly tumbled back as you zoomed out of the library, forgetting your backpack and your textbook like they were the least of your worries.

You ran through the cold, having no idea where your destination was. You knew who he was, but not where to find him. You checked his apartment, called hongjoong, and checked the science lecture halls. With him nowhere to be found, you thought your heart was going to give out—that is, until one more place came to mind.

You raced to the campus bus stop, pacing until the bus finally arrived. Your leg bounced up and down rapidly until you reached your stop. You moved so fast you were certain people thought you were insane, and when you finally pushed through the doors of the hospital, you trudged up the stairs to the neuro floor, right up to the main desk.

You took a deep breath to slow your breathing. “Is Seonghwa here?” you asked in a hurry, your heart beating so fast you thought you were dying.

The lady frowned, giving you the weirdest look. “Who? Is he a patient?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No, no. he’s a med student. He should be doing an internship here or something? He’s in neuroscience. Neurosurgery? One of the two, I don't—”

“y/n?”

You heard his smooth voice from the right, and you slowly turned toward him in relief. “Ah, thank god. I need to see you, I think I’m dying.” you inhaled sharply, watching his neutral expression change to worry.

He hesitated to get closer to you, his lips opening and closing as his mind wondered about what to say. He decided against words and walked over to you, gripping onto your arm before dragging you away and into the on-call room he came out of.

He let go of you, and you stood in the middle of the room with your hands at your sides. He locked the door behind him, and then turned to you with a scowl. “Why are you here?”

You gasped for air. “Listen, I have to be dying. My heart is beating so fast.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s probably because you ran here.”

You shook your head, and he kept his distance to you. “No, it's not just that,” you took a step closer to him. He didn't move back. “I can't stop thinking about you. And when I think about you, my heart races and I feel like I need to see you. Some kind of chemical reaction is going on and it's not the one you told me about when we were drunk.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. You stepped closer to him. “It’s probably just your body being confused. It has nothing to do with me—”

“But it has everything to do with you!” you groaned, sweating through the furry coat you had on. You ran a hand through your hair aggressively. “Because you're the one who I see even when I’m staring at anatomy paintings I can't stand it anymore.”

He let his guard down, setting down his arms at his sides. You took a step closer to him, calming down in his presence.

He looked at you through those glasses of his. “What are your symptoms?”

You let out a sigh of relief. “I uh, I cant stop thinking about you. About that night. I also cant breathe sometimes, and my heart beats super fast whenever I think about you, or if you're with someone else,” you took a breath as he watched you intently. “I don't know if its because you hate me and I cant shake it, or that I still want to sleep with you, or the fact that I want more than that but I’m no good for you but I want to be—”

“Oxytocin.” he smiled, his eyes sparkling.

You stopped, realizing you were so close to him that your shoes were almost bumping together. “What?”

“Your chemical reaction,” he said, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face. The minute his skin met yours, you felt your heart beat even faster. “It’s especially prominent with…skin to skin contact.” the pads of his fingers caressed your cheek.

You felt calm as he touched you. Like you needed it. Only him.

“What does that mean?” you asked him, a whisper.

He smiled, grabbing your face in his hands. “It means attachment. You're attached to me.”

You met eyes with him, looking at how they searched your face for any answer.

“...Yes. you're right,” you bit your lip as he looked down at you with amusement. “All I know is that I feel so much better now that you're in front of me.”

He smiled. “Good. because I do too,” he looked at your lips, ready to lean down and kiss them. “But just so you know, I plan on ripping your clothes off again. Right here, right now, so you better tell me it won't be the last time. I don't want to hear you say bye to me ever again.”

You nodded in his grip, your face inching towards his. “Mhm. Yeah. I’ll always say hello to you. No bye’s.”

He pressed his forehead into yours. “None.”

His lips met yours like it was the first time, and you smiled into the kiss like a schoolgirl. You wrapped your arm around his shoulders, kissing him and kissing him like you were made for him.

He made love to you on the couch of the on-call room, making new marks on your thighs and your neck. You never wanted it to end, and this time, it didn't have to.

“I’ll be the only one who gets to rip your dresses, alright?” he growled in your ear, professing his attraction and attachment to you through actions.

“Okay, four eyes.”

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #park seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa #enemies to lovers #one night stand #new year au #parties #ateez fic #ateez san #college au

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ferris-the-wheel · 2 months

Text

Posted 3/8/24

Fyodor Dostoevsky Relationship Headcanons

: ̗̀➛ Fyodor x gn!reader

A/N: This was pretty fun to make and I kinda wanna do this with more BSD characters. Who am I kidding- I'm totally doing this with other BSD characters.

: ̗̀➛ Not proofread, may be some mistakes.

TW: Semi-controlling behavior (but not super overbearing???)

⁂ Pretty much no one knows you exist, not even anyone in the Decay of Angels.

⁂ That's because he doesn't want to risk you getting taken hostage or killed by his enemies (which he has a lot of, obviously). He also doesn't trust the DOA members not to try to use you to get the upper hand against him.

⁂ You're one of his two weaknesses and he doesn't want anyone to exploit that fact.

⁂ One of his plans for preventing anyone from finding out about you is that he would buy a comfortable house for you to live in in a less populated area outside of the city, but you declined. You insisted that since no one even knew that you were connected to each other, you could live in the city.

⁂ He reluctantly agreed but made sure to install a bunch of security cameras to the place you were living at in the city, as well as teaching you how to use a variety of types of guns.

⁂ Whenever he's just sitting around (usually while his plans are unfolding and causing chaos), he'll just be eager to get back home to you. He would also plan out the whole evening in his head, knowing how it would go before it was even past noon.

⁂ While normally, the only side of himself that he let's people see is that he's soulless and doesn't care about anything. However, you know that this isn't exactly the case. While yes, he does act like that, he shows a different side, only around you.

⁂ He still has a certain coldness to him (personality wise as well as being ice cold to the touch lol), but he's nicer toward you than he is to anyone else. Of course, that's not to say that he's a complete angel. He's very protective of you if you couldn't tell so he tends to ask where you're going when you go out and may follow you to make sure that you're safe.

⁂ He can be a bit of a control freak, but that's kind of something that you have to put up with. For example, if he wants something from you, such as a kiss, he will do pretty much anything to get it (in cases where you don't want to or aren't in the mood). He would be a bit manipulative/deceptive with his methods, but nothing like downright abusive or anything. He tries to dial it down when something really bothers you, though.

⁂ He can be... just a bit jealous (let's be real, he can be pretty damn jealous). He doesn't see why you waste your attention on other less competent, boring people, but he doesn't force you not to hang out with anyone.

⁂ He does let you have friends and connections, he just warns you not to tell them about him. He does very extensive background checks on the people you hang out with, just to make sure they aren't governments agents or members of the Port Mafia. Yeah, no one knows that you and Fyodor are connected at all, but he's just covering all his bases.

⁂ If someone tries to hit on you or anything like that, good luck to them. Fyodor would probably find out immediately and either one of two scenarios would occur:

1. He would ask that you not hang out with said person anymore and would convince you to completely cut that person out of your life.

Or the more dramatic option.....

2. He would simply make that person disappear. It would just happen. Of course, he had nothing to do with their disappearance. Feel free to interpret that how you will.

⁂ Sometimes he'll offer to let you have his ushanka for a while since he likes seeing you wear it. In fact, it soon became a routine: when he came home, he'd take off his coat and hang it up, then he'd locate you and place the ushanka on your head. He didn't always give it up easily though. He'd sometimes demand something in return.

⁂ When Fyodor wants to relax, he'll lay his head down in your lap and have you mess around with his hair. It doesn't matter if you're just mussing it up or if you're just combing it, he loves the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

BSD taglist: @edith-is-a-cat @twst-om-lover @l7k-a @lyle-my-beloved @xen-blank @cookiesandbiscuits @mermaidfanficlibrary

Reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♥︎

#fyodor dostoevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #gn!reader

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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months

Note

Hi! If you're still taking requests I'd love request a drabble about the moment when Konig and Reader first noticed each other and what they thought/felt during that moment based on your "Just Friends" fic.

Btw I love your work and oh my god, it's perfection, absolutely amazing. Super excited to read chapter 3&4 (no rush take your time!!)

Thabj you!!!

Even Demons are Lonely

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Summary: König sees reader for the first time. Soon, the promise to never touch someone as lovely as her turns into a vow to never leave her side.

Tags/warnings: F!Reader, König POV, Just Friends universe. Angst, twisted & fluffy feelings, pining, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of past trauma, abuse and patricide, yandere!König falling in love (=being delusional). Mild sexual and violent themes.

A/N: I did take my time with this one... 🩷 And it's only König POV, but I hope you enjoy! 💋

"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely – saw, and pined His loss..."

– John Milton, Paradise Lost

Purgatory.

That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.

Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.

They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.

The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered.

That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak.

He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.

Ghoul.

A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.

He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.

It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt.

"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.

………………

Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have.

The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.

He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.

He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.

People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while.

His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between.

That's why he calls this place purgatory.

………………

He sees a woman under the sun one day.

The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.

His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.

Trees are better than people...

But they're not better than a woman like her.

He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.

She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips.

He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth.

Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.

She can't be human...

He wonders if she's even real.

He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.

He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls.

He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke.

And then the angel turns her head.

It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile.

The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.

He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her.

But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him.

So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.

………………

The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base.

He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.

His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.

She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees.

No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.

It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.

She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.

He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite.

No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.

But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it.

His angel is lonely and trapped too.

He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.

She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss.

You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.

Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too.

Has someone claimed her already…?

What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?

Who does he have to kill?

………………

He breaks into her room that night.

He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?

No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.

But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.

Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…

The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat.

No.

Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.

He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good.

She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.

There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror.

He wants all of that.

He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…

He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.

One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.

He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either.

Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse…

She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.

Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet?

She has no right. She should be up in heaven.

He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him...

He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.

The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.

Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…

The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…

Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.

There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.

The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move.

Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster.

He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…

He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers.

His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now.

Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.

What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?

He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too...

“Engel,” he whispers into the night.

It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly.

She's calling for him. How could he refuse?

His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.

Then he returns to his room so different from hers, returns to the realm of death and worships the thing he just stole, spraying it with hot, white love - the only thing inside him that can be called pure, the color of angels. It's only a matter of time before he gets to worship her in the flesh, unite with her, the soul who forgave his sins and slipped him the key to heaven.

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #yandere könig #soft yandere #male yandere #obsessive love #cw: stalking #cw: dark content

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