#gross saint very gross | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Post activity is at the highest at 4:00 pm EDT; notes peak at 10:00 pm EDT.

#gross saint very gross

uglyducklingofthe2000s · 4 months

Text

Lando Norris Masterlist 2.0

☁️ - fluff 🌶 - smut 🖤 - dark themes 🥲 - angst

One Shots

New Hobby ☁️

Just Call Me Santa ☁️

"I'm an Independent Woman" "I Can See That" ☁️ 🥲

Keep Your Hands To Yourself ☁️ 🥲

Get A Hold Of Yourself ☁️ 🥲

Not Just A Pillow Princess 🌶

That's My Wife ☁️

Took My Soul & Wiped It Clean ☁️ 🥲

“Just Don’t Be So Sensitive” 🥲

Worth Celebrating ☁️

Sometimes You Just Know ☁️

Don't Be Such A Muppet 🥲

I'm A Lucky Girl 🌶

Taking Care Of You ☁️

Naps > Everything Else ☁️

I See Your Face ☁️ 🥲

I End My Day With You ☁️ 🥲

No Risk. No Loss. 🥲

We Are Not Being That Cliche 🥲

Team-cest ☁️

We Have A Life Together ☁️

I'll Meet You There ☁️ 🥲

Hold On & Don't Let Go ☁️

Full-Time Annoyance ☁️

It Was Your Stupid Idea ☁️ 🥲

Every Syllable ☁️

Never Going To Happen Again 🌶

What Do You Call Perfect? ☁️ 🥲

Such Public Affection☁️

Squish ☁️

Calm The Noise ☁️

I Know A Real Orgasm 🌶

You Left & I Didn't Wait. ☁️ 🥲

Ew You're Gross ☁️

One-Sided Conversation ☁️ 🥲

No Hiding In Plain Sight Part 2 ☁️

Love On The Brain ☁️

She's A Luxury ☁️ 🥲

Sleeping Habits ☁️

Please Be All Mine ☁️

Sunshine ☁️

The Risk Of The Sport 🥲

Change Of Lifestyle ☁️

I Won't Let You Leave 🌶 🖤

Red Bull Is Just Better ☁️ 🥲

I'd Date A Fan ☁️

I'll Crawl Home To Her ☁️

A Sinner Deserves Their Saint ☁️ 🥲

Perfectly Fine ☁️ 🥲

So Messy (For Everyone Else) ☁️

Latched On ☁️

McLaren is Home & Family ☁️ 🥲

Something About You 🌶

Don't Put That On My Plate ☁️

Windows To The Soul ☁️

What I'd Do For You ☁️

Broken Faith 🥲

Bring Heaven To You ☁️ 🥲

Not Like Everyone Else ☁️ 🥲

What's Mine is All Mine ☁️

Don't Touch ☁️

You Slow It Down ☁️

Helmets ☁️

Out of Character 🥲

Wetter Than Water 🌶

Millionaires Boys Club 🥲

Where You Lay Your Head ☁️

Not Very Discreet ☁️

After Your Man ☁️ 🥲(ish)

Bragging Rights ☁️

Do Something About It 🥲

Caught In It ☁️ 🥲

Out With The Old, In With The New? ☁️ 🥲

Strawberry Delight ☁️

Panic Stations ☁️ 🥲

I Got You Babe ☁️ 🥲

Linked ☁️

Pamper Yourself (Girls Night series) ☁️

Little Do You Know ☁️

Spare Me Your Mercy/MV1 🥲 🌶 (with Max)

Priorities ☁️

Never Mix Business with Pleasure 🌶

Your Hand Please ☁️

What You Do To Me ☁️ 🌶

All in the Details ☁️

From the Day That I Met You ☁️

The Pressure of a Crumbling World 🥲

Are You Jealous? 🥲

So Daddy ☁️ 🥲

A Mini Version ☁️

Sting 🌶

Not How We Are ☁️ 🥲

They Wouldn't Understand 🌶 🖤

Easy To Be The Favourites ☁️

Exclusive To Me 🌶 🖤

As Bad As It Can Be ☁️🥲

She Was Here ☁️

755 notes · View notes

imasimpforshanks · 7 months

Text

one piece characters as words of affirmation

ft. ace, sanji, sabo, shanks

summary: just ways one piece characters would show ‘words of affirmation’ as a love language!

a/n: I HAVE AWAKENED ONCE MORE! but trust I will return to my slumber and probs not post for a while because life and stuff 😢😢😢🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 love y’all and please enjoy this (note: originally read this idea for another fandom but cannot remember the creator sorry!!)))

Ace + “i missed you!”

you weren’t gone for more than an hour, yet ace can’t help but engulf you in a hug as you walk through the door. “finally, you’re home. i missed you,” he whispers. “ace, i just went to the market,” you chuckle. “yeah i know, and i missed you that much,” he paused, and you could feel the pout forming on his lips, “i hate being apart from you.” a fond smile graces your lips and you hug him just a little tighter.

Sabo + “seeing you happy makes me happy”

your eyes sparkled and your voice shook with laughter as you recounted your girls day with koala. sabo couldn’t help the smile that was forming as you spoke, and soon he was grinning like an idiot. “what are you smiling like that for?” you laughed. “nothing,” he says, “just seeing you happy makes me happy - that’s all.” your eyes widen and you feel a sudden warmth in your cheeks as you bashfully stutter “O-oh!”

Sanji + “i love you”

it’s the first thing he says when he wakes up, followed by a kiss to your forehead. he says it as he ends a phone call. he says it while shopping at the market for groceries. whether it’s in the privacy of your own room, or in front of a crowd, sanji says “i love you” from the bottom of his heart and with complete sincerity.

Shanks + complimenting you

“jesus! i must have been a saint in another life!” shanks says, and you furrow your eyebrows confused. “you look like a dream, baby!” he continues. this only confuses you more, “shanks, i literally just finished my workout?” he pulls you in, whispering playfully in your ear, “eh so what, i like them a little musty.” stifling your laughter you roll your eyes, “ew, that’s so gross!” you begin walking towards the shower but you don’t manage to get very far before he calls out to you, “im serious though, you really do always look beautiful.”

933 notes · View notes

cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

Your Protector

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: Arthur comes to your rescue while you're being harassed.

a/n: This is technically a reupload from back in November but I added a lot more detail and its now about 1k longer so-- Also this fic was originally a request: "reader getting hit on in a shady alley and Arthur rescuing her"

warnings: gore, blood, violence (not more than game), harassment, basically a gross, greedy man who gets a bit handsy

It’s been ten minutes since Arthur left you in the alley. Nervously, you run your sweaty palms down your jeans and slow your breaths. You couldn’t deny Arthur when he had asked you to scope out this job with him. He made all the plans, crafted a safe and efficient way to get the money with no one getting hurt. And although you trust him, your nerves are still on edge. The other outlaw had caught first wind of this score when helping a passerby on the road in Bayou Nwa. Arthur helped a man with a nasty snake bite, and was gifted a token of information as a payment. Apparently, the Saint Denis gunsmith is running a little underground gambling. Big poker games, with top players, betting more money just on one game than you’ve ever laid eyes on in your life. That tip came about a few weeks ago, and after some sniffing around, Arthur found the information to be true. Tonight, at 8pm, the cards were dealt for the tournament game. The big one.

You pace, nervously glancing down at your silver pocket watch. The time reads just after midnight. These games take hours, if not days, but by now most of the money should be out, and the players should all be here with their riches. Before jogging up the metal staircase and sneaking through a cracked window, Arthur had planted you as a lookout in the alley adjoining the gunsmith. His plan is: sneak in, play the part, and rob the bastards blind. They’ll probably be too wasted on hooch to even notice him slipping away with their life savings. Your job is strictly to keep watch, which Arthur reassured you is a very important job, despite your reservations. You glance at your pocket watch again, seeing that Arthur has now been in there for thirteen minutes. Shoving the watch into your pocket to get rid of the distraction, you glance around the alley. It's dark, and eerie. The pass way is long and narrow, with rotting wooden crates lining the walls and rats that run and squeak, causing you to jump every now and again. Water drips down from the metal overhangs, driving you mad with their constant noise.

Anxiety pools in your gut as the shadows made by the rats and the crates shift, and the walls seem to move in on you. It’s all an illusion of course, but your heart rate picks up as the shadows shift and taunt you. A few times you scare yourself, looking at the shadows for too long until they begin to morph. So, to preserve your sanity, you distract yourself, pulling your cattleman from its holster. You grab a bottle of gun oil and a little rag from your satchel, humming to yourself as you wipe down the barrel of the gun, making sure to get in between the little grooves. Arthur had bought you this gun, and had it engraved with ornate flowers. It’s one of your most dear possessions. You still feel incredibly uneasy, like you’re being watched, followed. But you tell yourself that your mind is just playing tricks on you. You focus on the gun, keeping enough awareness of your surroundings to know if the law is coming. With a satisfied smirk, you hold your gun under the flickering street light, admiring its clean, shiny state. Suddenly the gun is knocked away from your hand, and you gasp, having only a moment to watch it fall onto the cobblestone before whipping around in shock.

A beast of a man, easily over six feet tall with broad shoulders, towers over you, sneering down at you with yellow teeth and breath that reeks of liquor. He scares the hell out of you, and you back away quickly. In one large step backwards, with a loud gasp, your back hits the alley’s brick wall. The man steps forward, sandwiching you between himself and the wall. You feel so sick, so naive right now. When you had agreed to do this job, you’d expected to run into some nasty street kids and oversized rats at the worst, but oh were you wrong. Somehow the other type of vermin roaming Saint Denis had slipped your mind: the men like this one. The men who drink their fill and search the streets for a cheap woman to spend the night with, or any woman to spend the night with. He is the exact type of man you would expect to be at an illegal poker game, with greasy hair, beady eyes, and sharp features that remind you of a predator. Your back is still pressed against the wall, and the man in front of you corners you by bringing a hand to either side of your head on the wall. You’re trapped. You glance down to your cattleman on the street, and damningly realize you can’t reach it. When the man opens his mouth to speak, the acrid, alcoholic smell of his breath makes you gag.

“Say, what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ in these nasty parts of town all by yourself?” His breath is hot on your face, and the smell of his sweat chokes you. You think about screaming for help, but all that would do is tie a noose around Arthur’s neck. Yelling isn’t an option. One of his large hands comes up to your face and he gently caresses your cheek with the back of his index finger. You tear your face away from his touch, fuming. You look angry and tough, but under it all you’re terrified.

“I'm not alone, got a friend in the gunsmith, he should be back any second.” you growl, staring the man right in his colorless eyes. Slowly, he turns his head in both directions, scanning the gunsmith doors and the stairwell that leads to the attic. When he turns his head back to you, there is a sickening grin on it.

“Well, sweet thing, I don’t see anyone… do you?” The man chuckles deeply, threateningly, “It can be real dangerous around here if you ain’t got someone to keep an eye on you…” He snarls, a mock smile on his lips that causes your stomach to flip with disgust. The man leans down, only inches away from your face as you shove your body back against the brick wall, wishing it would swallow you whole.

“The names’ Levi… care to tell me yours, pretty girl?” Levi sneers, eyeing your scowl.

Your eyes are glued to the gunsmith’s side door, silently begging Arthur to return. You know that you can’t fight this man off. He’s much bigger than you, and even in his drunken state, he’s stronger than you are. His hands grip your forearms, pushing you back against the brick wall and you yelp.

“I don’t need you protectin’ me, now let me go!” You yell into his face, shoving against the brute as hard as you can. Levi only laughs, pushing closer to you. His weight, sandwiching you against the wall, knocks the air out of your lungs as you attempt to push him away. He only laughs, and the smell of his alcohol ridden breath once again makes you gag.

“Why don’t you come wit’ me? I’ll show ya a real good time. Do you think a lil’ thing like you can handle me, precious?”

Eyes squinted shut, you silently beg Arthur or anyone to help you.

— — — —

Arthur scans the room once more before swiping the cash off of the table and sliding it into his leather saddle bag. Most of the gamblers have passed out, but the ones who are still conscious are far too drunk to notice Arthur slipping by, knocking out a couple of guards and stealing their wealth. It's dark in the room, most of the candles have burned out already, and Arthur isn’t seen as he crouches, expert fingers grappling and pickpocketing as he goes. There is a little makeshift bar towards the window he had crawled in through, and on top of it rests a thick clip of money. Arthur eyes it, stepping towards the window to snatch the clip. Just as he passes the window, a breeze rolls in, and carried on it is your voice.

“Let me go!” You growl, and Arthur peeks out the window, face pale as his heart drops. He sees a big bastard, towering over you and holding you against the wall, yelling in your face. For a second Arthur sees nothing but red.

Arthur panics, filled with both rage and fear. The cash clips that he has not yet collected are discarded on the counter as Arthur runs down the interior staircase. It's quicker than crawling through the window and dealing with the ladders. Arthur’s mind is clouded with a primal instinct to protect you as he bolts down the steps, skipping multiple as he goes.

“Shit, shit- Shit!” Arthur growls, pushing up against the main door to the gunsmith. It doesn't budge, presumably locked for the night. And although Arthur would only have to reach down and unlock the fine wooden door, he wastes no time, kicking the wood with such force that it swings open, nearly knocked off the goddamn hinges. Arthur fumes, stepping through the broken door, and dropping the saddle bag onto the ground. You’re only right across the alley now.

His eyes meet yours, and you look so small compared to the bastard who is bothering you. Arthur doesn’t hesitate for a second, coming up behind Levi in a few long strides and grabbing him by the back of his collar. Even though Levi is large in comparison to you, he is not nearly as big as Arthur.

Arthur drags Levi back by his collar with an indescribable rage, and slams him into the brick wall, opposite of you. A sound erupts from Arthur, that could only be compared to a growl as he wraps his hand around Levi’s throat. His other fist is raised and ready to beat the life out of the bastard. You breathe deeply, sinking against the floor to catch your breath and reel over what’s playing out before you., relief washing over you because Arthur’s here.

“What in the hell were you just sayin’ to her?!” Arthur’s voice is deep, filled to the core with rage, the kind that can’t be stopped or repressed. His eyes are dark, and despite the love and the comfort that they have provided you with, Arthur looks terrifying now.

You can do nothing but catch your breath and watch the scene play out. You’re still in shock, mindlessly rubbing your hand over the spot on your arm that your perpetrator was gripping onto so tightly. You wince, realizing that there will definitely be bruises there later.

Levi cracks a sickening smile before responding to Arthur,

“Ah, so you’re the one this whore is fuc-” Levi’s words are cut short as Arthur’s fist meets his face. There is so much force and anger behind the punch that you are surprised Levi is still conscious. A loud crack snaps through the air- you realize that it is Levi’s nose shattering as he screams out in pain. Arthur is fuming, his shoulders rising up and down quickly as he attempts to stop himself from killing this piece of shit. He puts his fist down, but keeps his hand on Levi’s throat. A bruise in the shape of Arthur’s knuckles is already starting to form on Levi’s face. His greasy hair is now falling down in front of his eyes as he spits blood onto the ground. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s drunk, stupid or both, but he attempts to get under Arthur’s skin one last time.

“You don’t feel like sharin, do you mister?” Levi pauses, spitting some more blood to the ground and eyeing you up and down before continuing, “Can’t say I blame you partner… If I had a woman wit a body like that I’d never-”

Once again Levi is shut up by Arthur’s fists. Except for this time Arthur doesn’t stop. Something snaps inside the outlaw, like he’s gone completely feral. Arthur shoves Levi to the ground, straddling him while landing punch after punch to his face. You sit against the wall in shock, wincing at the wet crunch and snap of bones breaking. Arthur’s chest is heaving as he beats Levi senselessly. You’re not sure how long it goes on, but it feels like forever.

Eventually, Levi stops resisting the blows, and Arthur gets off the half dead man, still enraged. He stands, fuming.

“You piece of shit, don’t you ever put your goddamn hands on her again- and if you ever talk to her, or any woman, like that again, I'll do alot worse than this, you hear?!” Arthur all but snarls.

Levi doesn’t respond, and Arthur kicks him in the ribs for it.

“Do. You. Hear?” Arthur growls, low and deep.

You’re honestly not sure if Levi is even alive, or capable of responding. His face is beaten in, red and smashed, he's not even recognizable. You breathe a little easier when you see the beaten man nod his head up and down. He’s an awful bastard, but you’re relieved that Arthur didn’t kill him.

“Good.” Arthur hisses with an icy tone that you’ve never heard before.

Stepping over Levi, Arthur leans down into a crouch in front of you and his features soften. He gently pulls the hair away from your ears, checking your face before running his green eyes over your body, checking that you’re not hurt. His face is pinched up in concern, and the hands that check over you are bruised and stained with the blood of your perpetrator. After doing a quick check over, Arthur grabs your gun. His gentle hands meet your waist before he helps you to stand up. As soon as you’re on your feet, without another word, he grips your hand, picks up the money bag and pulls you deeper into the alley. After some turns and bends, Arthur stops in a secluded spot.

Arthur deems you both far enough away to be involved with any trouble from the law, and he turns to face you. His hands come up to your cheeks, and with care he gently turns your face to both sides, checking you over more thoroughly.

“How badly do you hurt?” Arthur asks, rolling up your sleeves to assess the forming purple splotches along your arm.

When he sees them, his jaw sets into a hard, cold state as he breathes deeply to control his rage. Your eyes flutter up to his own, and you tread on thin ice, not wanting him to go back and kill the man.

“Im okay Arthur, really, I-” You start, tears pooling in your eyes. Arthur watches them form and then wipes them away with his thumb.

“Now don’t lie for my sake, he hurt you? More than this?” Arthur’s hand is gently holding your bruised arm, and the other cups your cheek. His eyes speak of an ache, of regret, you know he blames himself for leaving you in the alley, and you rush to reassure him.

“No, no he didn't hurt me, shook me up a little, but nothing bad.” You whisper, catching those soft green eyes again. Arthur looks down, and his body tightens as he avoids your eyes, terrified to ask the next question.

“Did he- did he do anythin..?” Arthur looks up, eyes locked on to yours to assess your answer, and you flinch, realizing what he’s asking. God, it could have been so much worse.

“Arthur, no, I promise, I’m okay. Really.”

He nods, seemingly accepting your truth with a breath of relief as his tongue darts out over his lips.

“Fuckin’ bastard, I should’ve done a lot worse to him.” Arthur curses, stepping away to pace lightly.

You step forward and put a hand on his warm chest to quell his rage.

“No, no you shouldn’t have. He got the message Arthur.”

Arthur glances up at you for a few moments, his hands resting on his belt before he steps forward, and pulls you toward him by your shoulder.

“Just… C’mere sweetheart.” He whispers.

You step towards him, grateful for the way he envelopes you into his arms. He’s so big, so warm. It’s a comfort that you didn’t realize you needed in the moment as Arthur kisses the top of your head. Everything is perfect, just in the moments that he holds you like this.

“Y’know, I worry about you sweetheart. Don’t want you gettin’ hurt or bein’ made uncomfortable by bastards like him.” Arthur mutters into your hair, still hugging you tightly.

You wrap your arms tighter around his torso, nuzzling into his chest.

“Well that’s why I have you.” You counter, smiling into Arthur’s warmth. He chuckles, and you’re glad to hear it.

“I'll always be your protector, darlin.” Arthur says before pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

#arthur morgan fluff #protective arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

alexa-fika · 4 months

Note

okay hold up I just a.. unique idea

Im rewatching OP and im at sabody arc, n Laffy jist knocked the shit outta the noble

Idk who to ask this for but id love to see how'd you'd write a character reacticing to a noble trynna BUY child reader..

Or perhaps how mihawk would react with them trynna buy winged!child!reader?? IDK IT JIST SPROUTED

Do with as you will👹

Embracing Feelings and Family (Rayleigh x gn!winged!child!reader)

A/N: Not sure how to feel about this one., I think is really mid, maybe it’s just because of the dark nature of the piece itself but idk. I think this goes without saying based on the request but beware of the dark undertones of this piece as it portrays human slavery and auctioning. I couldn’t come up with something for mihawk so I went with our favorite grandpa

Dividers by @/saradika

“Up next, we have ourselves a true rarity! This one will blow your minds; we have a winged child! You can fly it around as you want or even have them carry you around the skies! They can even deliver you special things in a fraction of a time!” The announcer enthusiastically explained

“Let us start the bid at 10 Million Berry! Who offers 10 Million Berry?!”

“Let me go, you Jerks! Im not an item!” The child growls, banging on the cage’s bars

Charlos awes childishly before throwing out the first bid

“It’s a big Bird! It’s a Big Bird! 50 million Berry!” He yelled out joyfully before waving happily to the child in the cage

“Grandpa will get you all! Grandpa will save me, you gross creeps!”

The bidders ignore the child’s threats, continuing to bid

“60 million!” A man in the back screams

“80 million!” Another man hollers back

“I’ll do 800 million!” Charlos shouts back while waving his arms frantically in the air excitedly

“D-Does somebody bid any higher?”

“800 million….” “Awe, man, I was excited to have it too!” The crowd mutters

“Going in 3!

Going in 2!

Going in 1!

Sold!

The winged child goes to Saint Charlos for 800 million berry!”

Reader screams as they open the door to their cage and begin pulling on the chains, trying to pull them out and take him toward Charlos.

“Don’t touch me!” They sneered, throwing a kick toward the handler that was closest to them

The handler dodges out of the way and gives them a look.

“Rude little one, don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” The handler growls

“You have just been bought for a very generous amount of money for no one less than a Saint himself! A nobody like you should be Grateful!” They turn towards The Saint and bow

“A-Apologies for its insolence Saint Charlos; if I may, I’ll gladly teach it some manners for you; no need to trouble someone of your status to teach slaves some tricks.”

Charlos groans, sticking his finger in his nose.

“Could you hurry it up? I want to fly it!”

“Yes, Yes, of course; im sure you must be extremely busy, Saint Charlos. I promise not to take more time than is needed!” they assure him, turning around towards the child

“Now come here, you stupid brat,” they growl, raising a baton towards them.

“You will learn to listen!" the exclaim, bringing the baton down, but instead of receiving a blow, the man before them falls to the ground, knocked unconscious.

Reader sighs with relief when the man falls to the ground, the people in the auctioning house following the familiar pattern they have come to expect from their grandpa’s powerful Haki

“Grandpa!” They say, trying to flutter their way to Rayleigh but are cut short due to the chains binding them, causing them to plummet to the ground

“Ow”

“Geez, Reader.”

Rayleigh sighs calmly as he wrenches the chains from them easily, not paying any mind to the explosions that followed once they were removed.

“You seem to be able to get yourself in all kinds of trouble,” He says calmly as he sets the child back down

“Haven’t I told you not to get near this place and much less showing off those wings of yours?”

“What was it this time?” He asks as he looks them over for injuries

“I tried to fly higher…but a wind current caught me, and I couldn’t get myself out from it; it dragged me here, and they brought me here.”

“A wind current?” Rayleigh asks curiously

“One strong enough to drag even you, that’s pretty surprising, to say the least,” He says as he continues to look them over

“Are you alright? Have you sustained any injuries?”

“Im okay.”

“Alright, good to know,” He says as he scoops them up and leaves the wretched place.

“That must have been scary, huh? Im sorry it took me so long to get there; my body doesn’t move the way I want to anymore.”

“I wasn’t scared,” they mutter

“It’s okay, you know.”

“What?”

“To be scared for one’s life from time to time it’s not something one should be ashamed to admit; it doesn’t make us any less brave; you have the right to be scared, just as much as you have the right to be brave.”

“Your feelings are real; you shouldn’t deny them,” He says as he continues to carry them

They stare at him as their eyes begin to water

He smiles gently

“Just let it out, Reader; no one will think less of you for being scared.”

They hug him tighter, diving their head in his shirt as sobs start escaping them

“T-They kept calling me ‘it,’ they kept saying how they would fly me around like I was a kite,” they sob

He ran his fingers through their hair while he let them continue to cry, hugging them back tightly as he did.

He couldn’t help the anger he felt rising when thinking about what had happened inside the auction house

He rubs their back gently as he continues to walk

“Nothing that they told you in it is true; Reader, do not listen to their words; you are invaluable and your own person, not someone to be owned,” He says

“I -I know b-but the way they said it, they meant it, Grandpa; I was nothing but an item for them to use in their eyes.”

He pulls them a bit more tightly as he did

"I know, some people are like that, wretched beings who enjoy stepping in other people and causing them misery simply because they can."

“You are someone special to me; always remember that; you are the biggest treasure for me and your grandmother,” He says gently as they rub their back

"Now what do you say we go back to the shack and ask Grandma to make you your favorite drink?" they offer, chuckling when they feel the child nooding

"Can we add extra chocolate to it?"

"Anything you want, Reader," he smiles, knowing that it would take a long time and effort to build their confidence and sense of security back to where it was after everything that had happened, but they would get there together.

Ya’ll I have summoned my choice wheels to do some platonic!reader x character, not child reader, normal age reader but still platonic 👀 Had to fight to find some good roulettes.

Taglist

@imaginarydreams

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x child!reader #one piece fluff #one piece imagine #rayleigh x reader #one piece rayleigh #silvers rayleigh #dark king rayleigh #rayleigh x child!reader #rayleigh x child! reader #rayleigh x you #rayleigh x y/n #rayleigh x gn reader #rayleigh x shakky #one piece x gender neutral reader #one piece x gn reader #shakky x gn reader

206 notes · View notes

st-danger · 9 months

Note

Saint.

Saint my beautiful, wonderful friend.

A thought. A prompt, even.

Dew in the middle of a quintessence sandwich. Aether teaching Aeon how to use his magick in all the ways Dew likes best. Showing him where and how to touch, what to say. How to manipulate his little body and worm his way into his mind. Just really fuckin' him up.

How do you think that would go?

Aether holds Dew tight against his chest, noses against his hairline and breathes his scent in while Dew moans, hips twitching and forcing his cock further into Aeon's mouth. The heat pouring off of him speaks to how worked up they have him. Jerky movements, unconscious, just an innate need to demand more. More lips around him, more tongue wiggling on the underside. Farther in. Too far, this time, and Aeon pulls off, sputtering and coughing.

"Sorry," Dew says, but doesn't sound particularly sorry to Aether at all.

Aeon recovers and seems unruffled, wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand, smiling up at Aether. At Dew, too, of course, but it's not meant for him. If only he knew that.

"Didn't you say you wanted to show me a little something?" Aeon wiggles his fingers and Dew goes still. Against his neck, Aether places a wet, sucking kiss.

"Okay?" he whispers against Dew's skin, fingertips stroking over his temple, down the side of his face. "Cool if we play?"

Dew chokes out a yes, and Aether takes a slow, deep breath and bleeds magick into him, tangling himself between every neuron in his brain.

"Touch him," Aether says, "and focus on finding me."

Aeon scrambles to sit up, cock bobbing while he does, and presses a palm to Dew's belly. Right to his core. With a deep breath in, and a slow breath out, Aeon grins, and Dew whimpers suddenly.

"Feel that?" Aether asks.

"You feel, like, electric," Aeon says, looking past Dew to meet Aether's lavender gaze. He looks so curious, so intrigued, crooked grin exaggerating the fold from the corner of his mouth to his nose. "Can you feel that?" he says to Dew.

"Yeah," Dew breathes, nodding, stomach trembling under Aeon's palm. Aethers fingers stroke against the side of his face again, and Dew whimpers, clutching frantically at the arm Aether keeps wrapped around his chest. "Makes everything feel- oh, like a lot."

"That's what I want you to try," Aether tells Aeon. "Take a deep breath and play around with the levels. As it were."

Aeon closes his eyes and when he breathes out, pushes a rush of quintessence into Dew, focuses on making everything but pleasure go silent and Dew cries out, sudden and panicked-

He's shooting all over his stomach, all over Aeon's hand, cock wagging around wildly as it spits. Knees drawing up. Aether has to laugh.

"Little much right out of the gate," he says, and Aeon looks as sorry as Dew had sounded earlier.

"Unholy shit," Aeon laughs, and ignores Dew's protests when he starts rubbing his cum all over his stomach, smearing it around. Gross. Filthy.

"Try easing into it," Aether suggests. "Give him just a hint. "

Dew's not even caught his breath, but Aeon is inside every nerve, alongside Aether, and he forces another, gentler wave of pleasure from him. His cock hasn't even had time to go soft, and it twitches while Aeon lets himself inside of the very fibre of Dew's being.

"You can just keep him like this?" Aeon asks, unable to resist getting a hand on his swollen cock. Needs to give it a nice squeeze, get some relief.

"Like what?" Aether asks, tone pleasant and conversational. Talking about Dew like he isn't there to hear him. A little more and they could make him mindless. "Cumming? Or on edge?"

"Both, I guess," Aeon says, and the tip of his tongue pokes out while he concentrates again, feeling around Dew, feeling for Aether.

"Follow my lead," Aether says.

It's interesting, watching Aeon figure it all out. It isn't like he's new to this, but this particular application certainly is unfamiliar. Like with most things, he's a quick learned with this, too, and he and Aether coordinate until they find themselves in a push-pull of forcing pleasure into him, and then easing off.

It goes on for a very, very long while.

Aether is so hard he knows he's staining his underwear. Dew gasps every time, writhes with it, squirms and moves his legs so much he accidentally kicks Aeon.

"Probably deserved that," Aeon laughs.

"Sit still," Aether admonishes.

"Cant," Dew whines. His hairline is damp with sweat. His back is wet where it meets Aether's chest. "Oh, fuck, can't- make me cum again, oh, I need to-"

"Next lesson," Aether says, and waits for Aeon's focus to come back to him, and then Dew goes limp.

Aeon's eyes go as wide as Dewdrop’s do.

"What," he whispers, "was that?"

"Now he'll stay still," Aether says, reasonably. In his arms, Dew begins to shiver, his cock wet and drooling.

"Fuck, Aether, Aeon, please," he warbles.

"You paralyze him?"

"Essentially," Aether nods, and nuzzles into Dew's neck again, to speak against his skin when he says, "he likes feeling helpless. Don't you?"

"Touch me," Dew moans, clutching at Aether and blinking up at Aeon through lashes that he hopes will clump with tears before too long.

"That it?" Aeon asks Dew, elated and unable to get his hand off himself. "You wanna lie here and be used?"

The answering moan says it all.

"Go on," Aether encourages him, fingertips still rubbing against Dew's temple. "Play around. He likes it when hes out of control." Aeon places his hands on Dew's knees, and spreads them apart. There's no resistance. Despite knowing that, actually watching it is something else entirely, and the visual has Aether biting the side of his tongue.

He moves him like he's a doll.

Aeon sucks on his index finger, and they watch as he reaches and-

Dew moans as Aeon rubs at his hole, claws digging into Aether's arm.

"Yeah?" Aeon asks, eyebrow quirked. "Sensitive there, aren't you?"

"Fuck off," Dew snaps.

"You can keep him from talking, if you want," Aether suggests, and Dew makes a noise of dissent that he and Aeon ignore. Aeon looks deep in concentration while he pushes his finger in and out the smallest bit, but it's got Dew's face bright red.

"What can I do to him?" Aeon asks Aether. Not Dew; he asks Aether. It's been so long since he's had another ghoul with the same magick skillset to play with, and he's missed it more than he wants to admit.

"A lot of things," Aether says, drawing his tongue up the shell of Dew's ear and forcing another moan from him. "Whaddya have in mind?"

Aeon leans in and kisses Dew, a quick pluck of his mouth, followed by licking a stripe up the side of his face, forcing Dew to cringe.

"Aw," Aeon says, patronizing. He gives him another quick kiss, and rubs his nose against Dew's, affectionate.

"Aeon," Dew says weakly. "It's so much, both of you-"

"I want him to struggle," Aeon says. "I like it when they fight." He kisses the tip of Dew's nose. "It's cute."

316 notes · View notes

which-qsmp-egg-would · 17 days

Text

Time for the March Summary!

First of, the egg that haunts my dreams,

Richarlyson

For the 3rd month in a row, with 13/62 polls won last month, Richas has been voted most likely to:

Eat a random nut/berry/bug he found outside

Aim for the head during dodgeball

Intentionally cough/sneeze on someone while sick

Pick up something gross and chase his siblings around with it

Play computer games in class instead of doing his school work

Play football indoors and accidentally break a family relic

Play Julius Ceasar in a recreation of the Ides of March

Love a cursed food combination

Hunt down islanders that aren't wearing green on St. Patrick's Day

Pretend to be possessed to scare a sibling/parent

Refuse to wear shoes, even in the woods

Be the Rico (Penguins of Madagascar) of the island

Be covered in band-aids all the time

I do not know how he managed to win this many without me noticing. I think he's stealing trophies from me when I'm not looking.

Dapper

Wait, what? Even I wasn't expecting our favorite literal-demon child to win 2nd! With 11/62 polls won, Dapper has been voted most likely to:

Read Wikipedia articles for fun

Berate adults for coughing into their hand

Be a "Home Alone" protagonist

Love "Doctor Who"

Read Homestuck

Make a recreation of the Ides of March

Actually catch a leprechaun on Saint Patrick's Day

NOT have to sing the alphabet song to remember what order the letters are in

Love the Sherlock Holmes books

Know everything about demon folklore and scare everyone with their knowledge of it

Be determined to find every single easter egg at the island-wide easter egg hunt

She's a nerd, what else is there to say?

Chayanne & Pepito

Tied for 3rd, with 6/62 polls won each! Chayanne has been voted most likely to:

Love Hockey

Hyperfixate on the Percy Jackson series

Be a try-hard in P.E. class

Start a game of King Of The Hill everytime the school replaces the woodchips at recess

Fight with a teacher over a test grade

Sleep through fasting all day

Only look for the difficult to find eggs so their younger siblings can have fun at the Easter egg hunt

And Pepito has been voted most likely to:

Lose every round of Hide N' Seek because Pepito can't stop giggling

Believe in the Tooth Fairy

Chase Pepito's own tail

Still not know how to swim

Actually break a leg during a school play on accident

Eat paper because Pepito thinks it tastes good

One of the oldest eggs tying with one of the youngest. It's perfect.

Sunny

With 5/62 polls won, I'm sure Sunny is a little miffed that she's ended up in 4th. But it's okay, you all are sure to put her in 1st place one of these months. Sunny has been voted most likely to:

Secretly paint their closet an obnoxious color

Have a fashion show using her parents' clothes

Sleep with all of their stuffed animals so they don't get lonely

Treat the masjid shoe racks as their own personal shoe store

Have an imaginary friend

Tallulah, Ramón, & Pomme

Tying for 5th, with 4/62 polls won each, I'm very happy to see Pomme winning her first ever polls! And a total of 4 of them, no less! Tallulah has been voted most likely to:

Try and dye her own hair (making a huge mess)

Fit the main character role in "Coraline"

Perform Tarot card readings

Catch bees to pet them

Ramón has been voted most likely to:

Be obsessed with cowboys and the Wild West

Race to recalibrate the SmartBoard at school

Set up an elaborate rube goldberg machine to suprise a parent for their birthday

Have a space hyperfixation and want to be an astronaut

And Pomme has been voted most likely to:

Be a monster at PaintBall

Hyperfixate on Splatoon

Be very meticulous while coloring in a coloring book

Write a book

I think there's a pattern with that last one.

Leonarda

With 3/62 polls won, Leonarda has been voted most likely to:

Be obsessed with Power Rangers

Be into ice skating

Read every single Warrior cats books

I don't have anything funny to say here, It's hard to pay attention while listening to Ze Frank talk about coral kkkkkkkk

Empanada

With 2/62 polls won, Empanada has been voted most likely to:

Spend recess burying herself in woodchips and sleeping

Have Batik as a hobby

Oh hey, it's the first time Empanada's gone a full month without winning a poll about sweets!

Chunsik

Finally, our youngest has won a poll! With 1/62 polls won, Chunsik has been voted most likely to:

Be exempt from a Federation experiment because he politely declines it

What a polite kid!

...

That's it, right? That's all the eggs. All 11 eggs, all 62 polls for the month of March

...

Why does my clipboard say I'm missing two polls.....

...

Oh! Yes!

Juanaflippa & Bobby

In an absolutely unprecedented event, Juanaflippa AND Bobby have become our first ever dead eggs to win a canonical poll, with 1/62 win each! Juanaflippa has been voted most likely to:

Have a million allergies during the spring

And Bobby has been voted most likely to:

Get BANNED from playing Bulldog

It's still insane to me that you all managed to get these two a win. Bobby was going up against RICHARLYSON for void's sake. You all were fighting against the current on that one.

See you all soon!

#qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp Chayanne #qsmp Tallulah #qsmp dapper #qsmp ramón #qsmp leonarda #qsmp Richarlyson #qsmp pomme #qsmp pepito #qsmp Empanada #qsmp sunny #qsmp sunnysideup #qsmp chunsik #qsmp bobby #qsmp juanaflippa #not a poll #month recap

110 notes · View notes

bwabys-scenarios · 6 months

Text

Unconditional

Kurapika x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: Kurapika is depressed, mentions of him having anger issues, mention of reader’s period(very short)

taglist: @desiray562 @ashdownunderscorebeloved @stygianoir

if you would like to be added to the HXH/SFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

Living and loving Kurapika wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. He had anger issues that got out of control sometimes, he struggled to be emotionally vulnerable with you, and he had missed several date nights and special occasions to chase the Phantom Troupe.

The other three in your friend group saw you as a saint. “I don’t know how you handle all of that, (Name). I would have broken up with him long ago.” Leorio said, sipping on his beer.

You sighed, playing with the straw to your strawberry soda. “It’s tough, but… I’m holding onto hope. Once he gets revenge, I… I hope he’ll be ready to settle down with me. He’s talked about wanting children before. I… want that too.”

Leorio downed the rest of his beer, before letting out a huff. “You’re too kind and patient for your own good.”

Maybe he was right, but the Kurapika you got to see was different than the man that others did.

It was winter, and he hadn’t gotten a single lead on the scarlet eyes or Phantom Troupe in weeks. Christmas was around the corner, and the closer it got to the holidays, the more depressed he became.

When he wasn’t away on missions or business, he stayed with you at your apartment. For the past week, he had been struggling to get out of bed.

Despite him not taking good care of himself and often taking his sadness and anger out on you by yelling or pushing you away, you still held him in the late hours of the night as he sobbed.

“I miss them… god I miss my mom, I miss my dad… I miss Pairo…”

You rubbed soothing circles into his back, not minding that his hair was greasy or his clothes were covered in stains. You kissed his forehead and wiped away his tears, whispering sweet words of love.

“Why don’t we do something tomorrow? Something to get you out of the house, or at least out of bed,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. He didn’t answer, burying his face into your warm bosom.

Soon, within your comforting embrace, he was able to fall back asleep.

He would go through these depressive episodes sometimes, where he would barely eat, and stay in bed for several days. You always helped him do little things to make him feel better, like change his clothes and brush out his hair so it didn’t get matted.

The next morning, you woke up, gently leading him to the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the bathtub shyly as you filled it up with warm water. Kurapika seemed embarrassed, rubbing his arm.

“I’m sorry, I smell gross and look terrible…” he said softly, eyes focused on the floor.

You smiled, helping to pull off his shirt. “Everyone is gross sometimes. You didn’t mind when I was on my period and bled through my pants while we were on a date and even let me cover my butt with your jacket!”

He smiled shyly, his cheeks erupting in a blush when you pulled his pants and boxers off. “Th-that’s different. You couldn’t help that, I’ve just been lazy and I don’t deserve you-“

“Kurapika, we’ve talked about this! You’re not being lazy, you’re going through a lot! You’re allowed to feel upset, and I’ll be here to take care of you, just like you take care of me. You’re deserving of love and understanding.”

He had heard this from you multiple times, but each time it made him want to cry. No one had ever looked past the mask of anger and emotional unavailability he put up. You tore down his walls so easily, making him feel like putty in your hands.

Kurapika stayed silent, allowing you to wash his body, making soft content groans as you washed away all of the grime he acquired over the past week. You applied a cleanser to his face before scrubbing his hair, waving it smooth and fluffy after his bath.

Although he still felt pretty bad, a bath had helped a bit. He watched as you picked out some comfortable pajamas for him to wear. It was the morning, but honestly he appreciated you noticing he didn’t feel like doing much.

You dried him off before dressing him, the blonde leaning against you as you blow dried his hair. It felt nice being taken care of like this. In his teens, Kurapika would have never imagined someone caring about him so much that they were willing to bathe him when he was unwell.

“You’re… you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You blinked, your face heating up. He’s never been afraid to say he loved you, in fact you were sure that you may be the person he held the most dear in his life, but the words he just said held so much weight.

“Kurapika…”

You pressed kisses into his face, wiping away the stray tears that fell down his cheeks. “You’re my everything, Pika. I want you to be happy, truly happy.”

He sighed, pulling you close and hiding his face in your chest. Kurapika always felt so safe when he was in your arms. It was almost comical to him. You were so much weaker than he was, with the wrong move he could crush you, but right now your arms around him made him feel safe and protected.

“One day… when… when everything has been resolved…”

He looked up at you, smiling. “I’m going to make you my wife.”

You felt your heart do backflips in your chest, and he couldn’t help but laugh at your flustered face. “You’re really cute, (Name). I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone as much as I love you.”

After recovering from his sweet words, you applied moisturizer to his face and combed out his hair. When he looked in the mirror, he could still pick out all of the things he disliked about himself.

He was pale, thin, had bags under his eyes… but you always blushed when he looked your way, your heart thumping wildly when he kissed you. It made him feel a little less insecure.

Kurapika let you lead him to the living room and set him up on the couch with a Christmas movie and some breakfast while you cleaned up your shared room. You had been unable to change the sheets and blankets due to his state, and you really wanted to give him a fresh start.

You returned after making the bed and putting the dirty bedding on to wash. “You know…”

You lifted the edge of the throw blanket you’d covered Kurapika with, ducking under his arm he wrapped around you to lay your head on his chest. “This is nice. I wouldn’t mind sitting here with you all day.”

He grinned, giving you a bite of his pancakes before snuggling close to you. “I’d like that. Now I don’t stink, and I feel… better. Some cuddles with my lovely girlfriend would be nice.”

And that’s exactly what the two of you did, spending the entire day together. The only time you left each other’s embrace was to use the bathroom or for you to prepare meals. Soon, it was time for bed.

The sheets smelled nice and fresh, and cuddled up with you, Kurapika could already feel himself beginning to feel better. It would take time to heal, but little things like this showed him just how loved he was, and how much he loved you.

“Goodnight, my beloved. Tomorrow, I… want to try going outside.”

You smiled, kissing his cheeks. “That sounds nice, we can stop by that new bakery down the street for breakfast.”

Kurapika almost felt excited for the day to come, and it was all thanks to you. “I love you so much… you truly are the most important person in my life.”

“I love you too, Pika.”

You both fell asleep in each others arms, each falling a bit more in love with the other.

163 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

You're feeling ill: COD headcanons

[MY MASTERLIST]

Rating: G Words: 600~ Pairing: none tags: SFW!, fluff, gn!reader, recovering from sickness, comfort. a/n: I'm feeling **so** sick (have a migraine) and decided to write these while waiting for my sleep aids to kick in.

Ghost: He's very caretaking-oriented and less so comforting. Clogged nose? He gets you a nasal spray and tissues. Hungry? Have some soup. Nauseous? Tea and saltines. Migraine? Turns off the lights and tells you to sleep. It sucks if you wanna cuddle and bask in his warmth because he will make you have the bed all for yourself so you can get better. Nonetheless, he's very efficient at taking care of you.

Price: This man is chronically sick. Not a day goes by where he's not nauseous or got a headache. (He joked about it in MW3, but frankly sounds accurate considering his high-stress job). This means that his perspective is a bit skewed. Will probably ask you "Are you sick enough that it's affecting your ability to work/study?" and when you say yes, will make sure to get you to bed and put a few meds, tissues, water bottles within your reach. Probably won't cuddle or coddle you, but will check in on you periodically and tuck you into bed with forehead kisses and words of encouragement.

Soap: (Is probably the reason you're sick in the first place) Will be miserable with you in bed. Everytime you sniffle or complain, he'll be right there with you, holding you close and grumbling "I ken, bonnie lass" in your ear. Will likely be all over you, hesitant to leave your side for longer than to get you things you need. Doesn't mind that you're sweaty/feverish/weak, he's rubbing himself on you like a puppy that's trying to lick you better.

Gaz: The man is a saint. He'll wrap his arms around you and kiss your forehead and rock you a little bit side to side until you fall asleep on top of him. Won't even complain about your bad breath when you have to mouthbreathe because of your clogged nose. Won't complain when you need to be away because you're overheating. Won't complain when you need all the lights off or the room to be cold either.

Alejandro: Remembers all the home remedies his mama used to use when he was little. 7Up for upset tummies, Caldo de Pollo for colds, loads of herbal tea, and Vicks VapoRub for literally any and every ailment. Will also hold you close, probably sit by your side and hold your hand and kiss the back of it while you groggily complain about how bad you feel.

Rodolfo: Also uses home remedies ^ but is a lot more likely to rush off to the pharmacy (even if it's the middle of the night!) to get you actual medication, especially when you're complaining about something specific like a headache or sore muscles. Will bathe you if you have a fever and feel gross and sweaty. Will spoon you from behind and play with your hair until you doze off.

Graves: Will let you groan and huff about how sick you feel. Probably teases you a bit when your voice gets nasally or hoarse, but will proceed to take care of you. Also whenever you get light-headed, he finds it to be hilarious. He parks you on the living room couch with blankets and pillows, tells you to tell him what you need and gets it for you. Also purposely makes you take copious amounts of Nyquil to knock you out.

König: Subscribes to the German (yes, I know he's Austrian) way of thinking that fresh air (and water) fixes everything!. Your head hurts? "Here, drink Wasser". You have a fever? "You need Lüften, I will open the window". You have cramps/nausea? "You need fresh air. Let's go for a walk. It will make you teel better." He means well and, granted, most of it works!! But my God, man, you don't want to go for a 3km hike when you feel like you're going to vomit.

#ikea writes 💚#cod fanfic #headcanon #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #phillip graves #könig #feeling sick #sickness

133 notes · View notes

flickering-nightfall · 9 months

Note

I’m pretty sure that you made a post explaining why the arm is not the umbilical but I can’t find it, so, if you did make one, can you give a link to it? Sorry if you didn’t make one, I don’t have very good memory.

I'm not entirely sure which post that is but it sounds like something I'd ramble about? I have this post talking about making a 3D umbilical and this post talking about making a 3D arm with allusions to that buuut...

If that post doesn't exist then I'll make one right now!

Here, I made a diagram of terminology I use for the puppet/arm/umbilical structure. These terms aren't necessarily canon - they're just what I use.

As for umbilicals being different from mechanical arms, it's an interpretation, I think. But there's reasons why I call them different things.

So first here's this Moon dialogue.

(I think that's vanilla dialogue? The wiki confuses me sometimes. Link here if you want to see it yourself.)

We can assume from that dialogue that the wires + cord are the "umbilical." Moon's are obviously cut, but Pebbles' are not. And Moon's puppet is still attached to her mechanical arm.

(Lots more under the cut)

Umbilicals in real life resemble the wire/cord structure far more than the mechanical arm portion does. So that's another reason I refer to the wire/cord as the umbilical.

Lemme slap some stuff from my iterator headcanons doc here.

I like interpreting the puppet as a place to focus an iterator's consciousness. It acts as a sensory hub and a means to interact more finely with their surroundings. Neurons, in turn, are active memory comparable to RAM. Moon refers to Pebbles' imprints on his neurons as "a ghost left from his processing routines." They're not meant for long-term memory storage, but upper processes such as, well... thinking... cannot be done without them. So removing neurons affects an iterator’s ability to encode, recall, and process information. (Courtesy of my friend Folly, I also think they're mostly made out of fat. Kind of gross to eat.) Although Moon's umbilical is severed, she is still able to see through and control the movements of her puppet. So either she has some sort of other connection to the rest of her can, or her consciousness comes from the puppet rather than the can. The mechanical arm’s functions would be mostly structure-to-puppet function (control movements of arm and puppet, transmit the sensory information of the puppet) while the wire/cord handles more consciousness-in-puppet-to-structure function (facilitates awareness and control over superstructure and all that encompasses). So both the cord and the arm are part of the iterator-to-puppet connection, but the cord is more important. I feel like with the wire OR the arm's internals intact, the iterator can maintain perception of the puppet. When you give Moon an overseer eye, she says, “I am not much more than what you are looking at - a little creature in a box.” This can be literal, or it can imply that her perception is just limited to what she can see through her puppet in her damaged state.

In Rivulet’s campaign, the rarefaction cell could be partial compensation for a missing umbilical. Moon can move on her arm, call up image projections, reconnect to her overseers, and broadcast locally to Pebbles after getting the rarefaction cell. She refers to it as finally having her freedom back. But we don't know how many of her systems she does or does not have access to anymore.

If you eat one of Pebbles' neurons in front of him as Rivulet he says "I would appreciate if you would not eat those. My umbilical will keep me conscious, but every neuron lost is a piece of me lost as well..." We know that Pebbles keeps his wires/cord/arm connected in Saint's campaign, though, and he remains conscious despite having no visible neurons. Does the umbilical compensate for the lack of neurons as well? Maybe there are some still alive in the structure that we can’t see, and the umbilical allows him to stay connected to them.

...honestly, I think downpour makes questions about umbilicals harder to answer than if you only base off of vanilla lore. But I like working with downpour stuff, so oh well.

One last thing - the wiki page for Moon also says this under her trivia: "Looks to the Moon is still connected to the wall by her umbilical, but the damaged hardware lacks power to let her move around." Other references to umbilicals written throughout the wiki imply the arm is the umbilical as well. But! I don't know where the writers of that got that information. I don't think there's anything in the game that confirms that the umbilical and the arm are the same. If there's anything in the game that supports that, let me know~

So to summarize: I think evidence suggests the wires + cord are the umbilical because Moon refers to hers being cut. The mechanical arm could also be a part of the umbilical, or it be considered a different part that provides function in a different way. I usually refer to them separately, but that's just me, and I mostly do it for the sake of clarity. It's not confirmed canon.

There are a lot of things about Rain World lore you can run in circles around for hours, but not find any definitive conclusions for. It's part of the fun even if it drives me nuts sometimes. Come be confused with me :)

#every time i edit this post the “keep reading” thing jumps down a paragraph #tumblr is a functioning website #ask #anon #text #images #rambles #rw spoilers #dp spoilers #saint spoilers #headcanons #rain world

360 notes · View notes

xerotiny99 · 21 days

Text

Room for Two // No Saint No Saviour #1

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

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

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

Requested By: from wattpad.

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

Song rec: I Want To by Rosenfeld.

Word Count: 21,474

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't like him!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's all balderdash."

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

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

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

"Ladies first," he adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why did you stop?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only time would tell.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, it's me. Jongho."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds good to me."

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

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

"No worries."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I might?"

"You might have a crush on me."

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Kissed?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Of course you are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Right, right."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

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

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

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

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

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

"Feeling better now?"

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

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

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

Was there something in the water?

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

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

And it shouldn't either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But you need to eat, moonpie."

"I don't need anything from you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This has to be the worst. Most definitely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you done?"

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

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

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

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

So, it was night after all.

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

This was hell.

And you really needed to get out of here.

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

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

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

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

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

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

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

But it wasn't that bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jongho..."

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

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

"Is that true?"

"Do you want me to prove it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jongho..." you mumble.

"What? Is it too much for you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn't care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🦋 ˚₊‧⁺˖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

There was pin drop silence on the other side.

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

But...

Would you really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why was he smiling?

You were growing concerned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How did you find me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't doubt that."

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

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

"But?"

"What about Jongho? Is he really—"

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

"So, you killed him?"

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

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

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

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

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez yunho #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #smut #atz #choi jongho x reader #choi jongho smut #choi jongho #psychopath au #request #jongho x reader #yunho x reader

79 notes · View notes

cheerfullycatholic · 23 days

Note

I feel terrible because I've been trying to stop a particular sin and I was doing well for months, but today I did it again. Whenever this happens I feel like I don't have a right to just pray to God like normal and ask for forgiveness. I worry that a part of me isn't afraid enough of sinning if I can just go to confession and ask God to forgive me. To be clear I don't like this sin. It makes me feel gross. But I thought I was passed it. And I'm scared of thinking I can just sin because I will be forgiven so what does it matter? And I don't want that. I want to be a saint and I want to make God happy with me. But I feel as though I haven't done enough to start praying again. Like I'll cheapen prayer or treat it flippantly.

This idea that you can't immediately go back to prayer is quite literally from the devil. (Generally speaking) what did we used to do when we were kids and got hurt? We would run back to our parents because they could help us and make us feel better. That's exactly what God wants from us in these moments. The devil doesn't want us to receive help, so, like with Adam and Eve, he tries to make us hide from God

St. Mark Ji TianXiang was an opium addict. He tried his very best to live a good, devout life. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't overcome his addiction. Because of this, his priest denied St. Mark absolution and he was unable to receive the sacraments for years. But he still did everything he could to live as holy a life as possible. He died a martyr along with his family and has been canonized a saint not just for his martyrdom but for his decades of striving to follow Jesus while carrying the cross of addiction

You're actively trying to avoid this sin, falling for it occasionally doesn't cheapen your prayer or turn confession into a tool to keep sinning. Fighting our fallen human nature is so damn hard, and sometimes we become numb to it. This is why prayer and confession and being disciplined enough to continue to go back to them despite how we feel is so powerful and valuable

Don't lose hope, don't stop trying. Even if you're never able to overcome this, God knows better than anyone how hard you try

55 notes · View notes

bakubunny · 4 months

Note

you said more piss kink in your inbox—

well if i have no choice😔if you must force my hand😔😔😔

OKAY SO.

cw: dark content, yandere izuku, piss. duh.

thinking about izuku being as sweet as sugar cane to everyone in the office. if you ask about izu, you’d hear he’s a saint. but he’s honestly a bit (a lot) of a perv, a bit of a stalker, especially to the pretty girl who works on floor number 7. it was something about you that drew him in, made him antsy, made his palms sweat so much he had to keep wiping them on his pants.

you lit up every part of this dull building with your presence and it wasn’t fair to him that anyone else but HIM got to experience it. only he knew you. he knew you better than even you. where you lived, the drink you kept wasting money on in the vending machine, your favorite shoes, your favorite song.

it wasn’t that hard to hack into all of your devices and it was so calming to watch you work at your desk, tucked away in a cubicle that was too mundane for a picturesque angel like yourself. he wanted to take you away from it all, lock you away from the cruel world and only show you sweet things.

but that’s why he did what he did, matched his route with yours so that you’d both end up in the same elevator. a quick slight of hand, and he was using the emergency key to stop the metal box right on the second to last level of the building. no signal down here. the lighting of the elevator, as gross as it was, still looked so nice on you. he made small talk with you, counted the amount of times you giggled at his shitty jokes. that nervous tension was eased within you and boom..an hour went by, and then two…and then…he watched you rock from one foot to the next.

he eyed the slight bend of your knees, then the crossing of your ankles, the hesitation to laugh fully.

“you alright over there, stranger?”

you nodded way too quickly, “y-yes, just wondering when security would get here.”

they wouldn’t, he’d planned this too perfectly. you two were the very last two in the building.

“claustrophobic?”

“i just really have to pee.”

“ah..”

he wondered how long you would hold out, thought your potty dance was adorable.

“you know,” he spoke again after another hour, eyeing where you were curled up in a corner, “it’s a natural thing. i won’t judge you if you-“

“that’s embarrassing!” you covered your face with your hands, “this fucking sucks.”

“hey i don’t mind,” he really didn’t, “besides. either way you’ll eventually go, whether that be intentionally or…accidentally.”

and he didn’t plan on leaving this elevator any time soon, not when things were just starting to get good…

eh but idk, just a thought

all i can think abt is izu somehow getting you against the wall with seemingly innocent kisses. he starts massaging rubbing your tummy with a massive hand while he kisses you and doesn’t stop when you squirm and protest. he’s got you trapped with his big frame and his strength, and you’re sure if he doesn’t stop, you’re going to piss yourself. you’re sweating, trying to hold back under the barrage of soft kisses on your lips and across your neck.

but izuku is so sickeningly sweet. “shh, shh… it’s okay, sweetheart. you can let go. it’s just us. no need to be shy, i’ve got you….”

#ugh I am sick over him #on fridays we share with the class #midoriya izuku #midoriya smut #🔪#💛#tw dark content #tw piss #cute moots

70 notes · View notes

nerdygaymormon · 7 months

Text

The LDS Church & homosexuality

Some church goers are uncomfortable that I identify as gay. They think how my Creator made me is somehow against God, but I’m allowed to stay in my church because I’m single and celibate which means I am following my church’s teachings on sexuality, which also matches historical Christian teachings on sexuality.

You know who isn’t following those historical teachings? Straight couples who use birth control. Also breaking the historical rules are straight couples where one or both of them divorced a former spouse.

By historical, I mean the majority Christian understanding of the past 2000+ years. But we don’t even have to go back that far. I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (which I’ll refer to as “the church” or “LDS Church”), let’s look at some of it’s more recent teachings & practices:

In the 1960′s, at General Conference it was taught that using contraception was a gross wickedness.

In the 1980′s, the LDS Church told bishops not to issue temple recommends to married couples who engage in oral sex.

Even up to 2020, the Handbook said church members had to consult with their bishop before getting a vasectomy or tubal ligation because this was seen as a moral issue since it would prevent them from having more children.

This is not ancient history!

Over the past 50 years, the church has liberalized sex for straight married couples. Current LDS policies are that birth control is considered a private matter for the married couple to decide and bishops are instructed not to ask married couples about their sexual behaviors. Oral and anal sex, or any other sexual act that may not result in pregnancy, are no longer considered moral dangers which the church needs to stop straight married couples from exploring. As one friend of mine described it, once you’re married, anything goes as long as there’s consent from both partners.

————————————————————

For gay couples, there’s been a little bit of movement by my church, but nothing like what has happened for straight couples.

Gay individuals are now allowed to call themselves “gay” without getting in trouble, they’re allowed to date and hold hands and kiss without having to confess or have their church membership put in jeopardy (unless you attend the church’s schools where you may get punished for those behaviors). However, for gay couples, marriage or sex will both bring discipline and possible expulsion from the church.

————————————————————

The Biblical viewpoints on sexuality come from a time and culture that valued women for their ability to produce children. Infant mortality rates were high and overall population growth was slow. Any kind of sex that couldn’t result in a pregnancy was forbidden (even if not the intent of the original text, that’s the interpretation made by Christians and taught for centuries)

Today, infant mortality rates are low, life expectancy is high, and the world’s population is at a whopping 8 billion (it first reached 1 billion in 1804, 2 billion in 1927, and has continued to expand at a quickening pace). The reality of our lives has changed.

Biblical understandings of orientations were very different from today’s. Even modern understanding has evolved as prior to the 19th century, the concept of a sexual orientation was absent from Western culture.

————————————————————

Let’s take a look at the evolution of the LDS Church’s positions on homosexuality.

Labels

In the 1960′s church leaders took a hard stance against even identifying as gay. Calling yourself gay or a homosexual could result in excommunication.

In the 1980′s, the church separated having gay feelings from behaviors. Feelings and attractions were no longer a sin, just the behaviors. However, what labels queer members should use was still a hot topic. Same-sex attraction was the preferred label.

I remember being told in the 1990′s that the terms gay, lesbian, or bi should only be used as adjectives to describe behaviors or feelings, not people. People were encouraged to say they experience same-sex attraction (SSA) and not call themselves gay.

While calling yourself lesbian, bi or gay is still not encouraged, in 2016 the church finally said it’s okay to do so.

—————————

What causes someone to be gay

The church taught people developed homosexual feelings due to a variety of reasons. These reasons changed over the decades, but here are some of the things the church taught as causing homosexuality: masturbation, sexual abuse, wearing gender non-conforming clothing, or even just talking about homosexuality. In other words, having gay attractions was a mental disorder for which someone needed help.

Gay people have been disagreeing for decades, explaining we didn’t choose to be gay and it isn’t the result of abuse or other such causes, it’s just how we are.

Since 1990, there’s been a steady accumulation of research to show that a person’s sexuality is determined before birth. Yet the church resisted change. Recognizing that it’s previous statements on the causes of homosexuality conflict with the research, in 2006 the church stated that it has no opinion on what causes someone to have homosexual attractions.

In 2010, Boyd K. Packer taught in General Conference that since God’s Plan is for men & women to have sex with each other in a marriage, God wouldn’t give people same-sex attractions without a way to change them while also prohibiting them from being able to act on these attractions. "Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone?" That is a damn fine question to which the church has yet come up with a good answer. It leaves the church in a quandary that it acknowledges people are gay, they don’t choose to be gay, and they can’t choose to not be gay, and yet they're still prohibited from having sex or getting married

—————————

Reparative/Conversion Therapy

Given the way the church thought about what causes someone to be gay, it’s little wonder it also taught someone could be ‘cured.’ The 1960′s saw a big increase of statements from top leadership in the church teaching this.

In Sept 1969, the BYU Psychology Department begins electroshock aversion therapy research against ‘sexual deviancy.’

In 1978, gay students who attend BYU are still required to do conversion therapy, but no longer will aversion therapy be used.

In 1992, the church discouraged leaders of local congregations from encouraging members to change their sexual orientation from homosexual to heterosexual as that generally leads to frustration and discouragement.

In 2016, the church created the Mormon and Gay website which declared conversion therapy or sexual orientation change efforts are unethical. It seems that it’s around this time that BYU ceased conversion therapy

It took until 2019 for LDS Family Services (the church’s therapy arm) to say it no longer tries to change a person’s sexual orientation, in other words, no more reparative therapy.

—————————

Mixed-orientation marriages

In the 1970′s and 1980′s, gay men were actively encouraged to marry a woman with the promise this would "cure" their homosexuality (the church is focused on gay men while barely showing any concern for lesbians). I suppose this could be seen as another attempt at reparative therapy.

In the April 1987 General Conference, Gordon B. Hinckley said marriage shouldn’t be used as a way to cure homosexuality. But for men who were able to have some attraction to a woman, or who had a great desire to be married with a family in spite of who they are attracted to, mixed-orientation marriages were still encouraged.

In 2006, it was stated mixed-orientation marriages are no longer encouraged as therapy or a solution to deal with homosexual feelings. It’s a little more expansive from the 1987 statement which was only about using marriage to cure homosexual feelings. While this is the official policy, many leaders still encourage gay people to enter mixed-orientation marriages, and not just at the local level. David Archuleta shared in 2022 that an apostle had encouraged him to marry “a good girl.”

Mixed-orientation marriages don’t have a good track record, even for LDS couples, about 70% of them end in divorce. This is why I think the church stopped encouraging them.

—————————

The fight against gay marriage

In the 1990′s and 2000′s, the LDS Church’s fight against gay marriage invoked the fear that if gay marriage was legalized, within one generation the world’s population of humans would be wiped out.

Somehow they thought homosexuality was so alluring that everyone would choose it and no more children would be born. Makes me wonder how many repressed gay men were in the ranks of the church leaders.

Once gay marriage was legalized, the church moved to explain why it still wouldn’t allow gay marriages among its members. Here’s some of the attempts:

The church has continued to teach that God only approves of a man & a woman who are married and sealed together. They will sometimes refer to scriptures as if that settles the matter, but even a casual reading of those verses will leave a person wondering what they have to do with a gay couple, or why a verse about polygamy is used to support 1 man + 1 woman.

With the growing acceptance of gay people and calls for change, in 2019 Elder Oaks introduced the idea that the 2 great commandments are in conflict and we need to not accept our gay neighbor too much because it would conflict with obeying the 1st command to love God. Later in a 2023 YSA fireside, Elder Oaks backed off of the idea that there's tension between the 2 great commandments.

In 2021, Elder Oaks introduces the idea that the church is only about helping people aim for the highest degree of the Celestial Kingdom, and that requires a straight couple being sealed. Queer people can’t fit that, so they will go to a lower kingdom, and those are really good, so they’ll be fine. (it feels like an attempt to placate those who want more, like how the idea of civil unions was meant to satisfy gay couples and keep them from wanting to get married)

In 2023, Elder Oaks added the idea that everyone who “keeps their covenants” are assured of having a sealed relationship. I think this is his way of saying gay marriage isn’t needed because that won’t last and eventually after you’re dead you will get to be in a straight marriage so just be patient.

In 2023, a survey by PRRI shows that as of 2022 50% of active LDS members of the church in the United States approve of gay marriage. So I would say these attempts against accepting gay marriage are not yielding the hoped-for results

—————————

Status of children of gay couples

In 2015, in response to the legalization of gay marriage across the United States, the LDS church implemented a new policy which forbids children from joining the church, or advancing in church, if one of their parents is in a gay relationship. Sadly, this mostly affected children who grew up in church as they were born to a couple in a mixed-orientation marriage which had broken up and the gay spouse found a same-sex partner.

In 2019, as part of undoing the 2015 policy, it was shared that many exemptions to the policy had been granted since 2015, and that the policy against the children is no longer in effect.

—————————

Law of Chastity

For many decades, “acting” on same-sex attractions was considered against the law of chastity. Many took this to include not just sexual acts but also dating or even hugs and holding hands.

In 2019, as part of undoing the 2015 policy which banned the children of gay couples from joining the LDS church, the statement was made that "immoral conduct in heterosexual or homosexual relationships will be treated in the same way." Many interpret this to mean dating, hand holding, and other activities that single heterosexual adults are allowed to engage in before marriage, these are now allowable for gay people. Not all local leaders agree with this interpretation, and in 2023 the BYU Honor Code was updated to forbid “same-sex romantic behavior.”

————————————————————

Within my lifetime, the law of chastity restrictions on straight couples have gone away as long as they’re married.

For gay people, the church now acknowledges they exist and it isn’t a choice to have these feelings. You may be allowed to date and hold hands and kiss but it is not encouraged because it can lead to a gay marriage.

Church leaders and members from a few decades ago would be shocked at the current teachings and practices of the LDS church in regards to sexuality, both for straight and gay people.

It is odd to hear church leaders claim the law of chastity isn’t subject to change, that doctrines never change, our teachings about homosexuality will never change, and yet we have a history of change. What's the point of being a church of continuing revelation if we say there will be no further revelation?

I hope for our leaders to receive "further light and knowledge.” We claim to be a church of revelation, so let’s get inspiration on how God’s queer children fit into God’s plan, on the blessings available to them, on how they bless the rest of the church, and their purposes in life. Let queer people have joy and hope in this life.

#queerstake

83 notes · View notes

youcouldmakealife · 6 months

Text

LBTE: Jared (106-110)

Quick return to summaries, for: in which two dorks get married.

106 - Jitters

“It’s stressing me out,” Jared says. “Like, obviously I love Bryce, I wouldn’t be marrying him if I didn’t, but like, figuring out how to say it and not like, embarrassing myself in front of everyone? I dunno. It’s hard.”

“You are your father’s son,” his mom says, and Jared can’t even argue that. His dad’s fucking awful at this kind of stuff, so Jared inherited it honestly, he guesses. Like, it’s so really clear his dad thinks his mom’s the shit? Jared’s over being embarrassed by his parents being happy in their relationship. But his dad kind of sucks at the expressing good emotions bit, to the point where him saying something really nice is the kind of thing that sticks with you for a long time because of how rare it is, but at the same time, Jared’s never doubted his dad loves him, and Erin, and his mom.

Jared is SO MUCH his father’s son, in a way he generally refuses to acknowledge, and yes, they’re both straight up awful at expressing their feelings, but no one doubts Jared loves Bryce after any time spent around the two of them. Ditto Don with Susan. (It horrified Jared and Erin as kids, how gross in love their dad was. Marcus Mathesons will be able to relate.)

“You’re not going to be a troll with your grandkids, are you?” Jared says, doubling down on the making her feel old since she can’t make him set the table twice.

“Oh no,” his mom says. “I’ll treat them like gold and spoil them rotten until they doubt every story you tell about me being a troll.”

Rude.

“Oh god,” she mutters. “I’m my mother.”

“Grandma’s a saint,” Jared says.

“Well,” she says. “At least I know firsthand that the strategy works. Table.”

She is going to do it and it is going to WORK and none of the M&Ms will doubt their grandmas are saints, no matter how much Jared insists only Elaine is actually a saint.

With a week to go Jared realises he totally forgot to ask Arvan for time off, and he only realises when he hears Raf ask Arvan for time off, that time off being, oh, Jared’s wedding.

“Um, me too!” Jared says. “And Chaz. We kind of need to all take that off.”

Raf gives him an utterly disgusted look

Raf will tell this story for YEARS, along with Bryce and Jared meeting. So many unflattering stories about Jared that Raf was forced to witness.

“It’s cool if you’re — you know it’s normal, right? To have — doubts.” “Cool, but I don’t have any,” Jared says. “…do you have cold feet?”

Bryce makes a very dismissive noise.

Please, Bryce has been ready for years at this point.

Him and Julius go over to his parents for his last dinner as like, an unmarried man — weird — and Jared’s half waiting all dinner for his dad to like, grab his shoulder and go ‘if you’ve changed your mind…’ or something, but he doesn’t. Best behaviour. Mom probably threatened him.

Honestly proud of Don for not doing that. (Susan definitely threatened him)

How’s the lake house?”

“It’s huge,” Bryce says. “You’re going to be so annoyed.”

I love that Bryce’s first thought about the place is ‘wow, this is so nice — that’s going to piss Jared off’, and he’s RIGHT.

107 - Preparation

“Nervous?” Julius asks him over breakfast.

“My feet are toasty warm,” Jared says, and after a very confused look from Julius, breakfast is briefly derailed to explain the concept of cold feet and no, Jared doesn’t know why it’s called cold feet, and then they’re looking up the etymology and Julius is making disgusted noises because it’s just based on some dude writing the words and it sticking, no actual clarification as to why

Nope, no proper origin to this idiom either. Enraging. I am Julius in this matter.

His dad insists on driving, saying it’s because Jared will be distracted, but actually because he’s a control freak who can’t handle not driving himself. Jared doesn’t fight it — he doesn’t know the area around the lake house at all, and if they get lost his dad will be unnervingly backseat stressed about it — but the fact that Julius gets dibs on the front seat, because ‘he’s a guest’, in Jared’s car, on Jared’s wedding day?

Jared sulks in the backseat, bags stacked between him and Erin like a barricade.

Shades of the blanket already. The brother Jared never had.

Elaine meets them outside, steering them towards the main house — apparently Bryce is getting ready in the bunk house, and Jared is very tempted to like, cut and run in that direction. It’s dumb. He’ll see him in three hours. He’s still considering it. “Don’t even think about it,” Elaine says cheerfully, apparently wise to Jared.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Jared protests.

“Bryce made that exact face when we heard your car pull in,” Elaine says. “Gail and my mom have him covered, and Gordie’s been instructed to stop you at the door by any means necessary.”

Do not mistake Elaine’s kindness for weakness.

“Wait, are there bigger rooms than this?” Jared asks. Because if so, this place is insane: this room’s the size of their living room and dining room combined. Maybe Bryce was right that Jared would be annoyed by how big it is — stupid thing to be annoyed by, considering how many people need to stay over, but there’s big and then there’s obnoxiously big.

It is nice and Jared is annoyed, just as Bryce predicted.

How’re you feeling? Jared texts.

pretty great get to marry the love of my life today, Bryce says

Bryce.

“Yeah, me too,” Erin says. “But it’s a pretty dress, so.”

Cue another twirl.

With a dress that swishy, you gotta twirl -- Erin is only doing what is necessary.

“Honey,” she says. “There’s going to be crying today. You’re probably going to cry today.”

He refuses.

“Bryce has already cried at least three times already,” Elaine says. Oh god. Every time Bryce cries Jared wants to cry. This is going to be a disaster.

Jared often stubbornly believes things despite evidence to the contrary, but I continue to have no idea how he thought he would get through his wedding day without crying.

There are going to be many matching PJs in his life, won’t there? He can’t even bring himself to mind.

It’s gonna get REAL cute with three generations in the same pjs.

“Wait, you gave Erin the rings?” Jared asks. “Why does Erin have our rings?”

“Because I’m maid of honour,” Erin says, with a little eyeroll like ‘duh’. “I’m standing up there with you, so I get the rings.”

“Do not do something to them,” Jared says. “Don’t — pretend you’ve lost them, or drop them, or—”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Erin says, sounding almost hurt.

Jared does not believe her.

“I wouldn’t do that to Bryce,” Erin adds.

Bryce is the brother ERIN never had. Because her brother is much worse than Bryce.

“When have you even tied bow ties?” Jared asks.

“Haven’t since my own wedding, but I looked it up on YouTube just in case you needed the help,” his dad says. “Now quit talking, I’m focusing.”

“Okay,” Jared says, and it looks pretty good after the third time his dad subjects him to a ‘wait, fuck, I’m trying again’.

“Don’t tell your mom I fixed your bow tie,” his dad says. “She looked it up on YouTube too, and she even bought one to practice with, she’ll be annoyed with herself.”

This right here encapsulates the Mathesons. A lot of snark and plenty of faults, but these hobgoblins love one another a lot. (Also randomly sneaky about their kindness because can't be obvious about their loving acts, how embarrassing.)

His mom wipes his eyes for him. “I did a really good job on that bow tie,” she says, sounding pleased.

“A great job,” Jared says, and bites down a smile when his dad gives him a thumbs up behind her back.

<3 Mathesons.

108 - Impaired Judgment (and other excuses for falling in love)

I’ve said it before, but this was the original title of the series, shortened for a few reasons (mostly brevity), and it felt right to use it for this part.

“Your dad spent the entire morning of our wedding day convinced I wasn’t going to show up,” his mom says. “You’re doing fine.”

“I didn’t really think that,” his dad mutters. “It was just a possibility.” If Jared was marrying literally anyone else, that’d probably bring the freak out to a new height, except it’s Bryce, so it doesn’t.

Seriously, can you imagine Bryce not following through with it? I can’t. Jared can’t. Dude’s cried with joy three times today in the presence of his mom alone. Nothing could get him to miss this.

Chaz does this goofy salute at him when Jared glances over the crowd of people ready to witness the inevitable mortification, and Jared smiles back weakly.

The person unironically referring to his time at the altar as ‘inevitable mortification’ does not get to call other people goofy.

“I’m not hugging you,” Erin says, when his dad finally lets go.

“Didn’t ask you to,” Jared says, which apparently is the permission Erin needs to hug him.

It’s like he doesn’t know her at all. Of course that’s the permission. Also: every time Erin and Jared hug my grinchy heart grows two sizes.

Jared looks over, sees Elaine and Bryce coming out of the back door of the bunk house, their hair glinting gold in the summer light and Bryce’s tux tailored perfectly, some full on James Bond suave shit going on, and Jared just — he gets to marry him.

We have TWO soppy ass dudes in this relationship, I don’t care what Jared says.

Who would dare pointed cough at him in the middle of his wedding? It’s probably a Matheson. Or Julius. Jared bets it was fucking Julius.

Chaz had a ticklish throat, sorry for LIVING.

Who let Jared open his mouth, holy shit. Someone stop him.

An excellent summary of Jared’s vows and also Jared’s life.

“I was such an angry person when I met you,” Bryce says. “Angry, and unhappy, and not — I didn’t want to be who I was. I didn’t like me. I didn’t like pretty much anyone. But god I liked you. And I wanted you to like me back so bad. And somehow you did, even though I wasn’t someone who even close to deserved you. And my biggest goal since I met you has been to become someone who does. And I don’t think I’m there yet, and I don’t know if I ever will be, but I promise you that’s going to continue to be something I strive towards every single day for the rest of my life.”

Bryce Marcus in his feelings is my number one kryptonite, and it got me good again.

He shakes his head, because he knows Bryce worked on it. Draft after draft, probably, trying to articulate his feelings for Jared, managing to land on the most devastating words possible, because he’s devastating in the best way possible.

Jared inhales, exhales, tries to get his breathing under control. Bryce waits for him to try to put himself together, and if Jared hadn’t been sure he wanted to marry him before this — and obviously he was pretty fucking sure — that would have done it, all by itself.

I’m not crying, you’re crying.

109 - Wedded Bliss

“Have a great season, guys,” she says, and Jared’s all panicky, suddenly, wondering if she’s a fan, which team she’s a fan of, before realising like — maybe she is a fan, maybe she isn’t, no way to know. If he was her, signing a non-disclosure agreement, he’d be immediately looking up the names if he didn’t recognise them, wondering what made an NDA necessary in the first place. And even if she is a fan, she’s not going to snitch; like, she signed a binding contract that would open her up to being sued for everything she’s worth, and also she’d probably lose her marriage licence…thing or whatever.

Besides, no Flames fan would be able to tell an Oiler to have a great season with a straight face.

Jared going through all the possibilities before stating the obvious.

(This reminds me of a fun fact I learned recently: in a map showing most hated teams by state and province, Alberta’s most hated team? The Calgary Flames. Meanwhile the Boston Bruins has all of Eastern Canada and two of three territories, for the largest geographical spread, good work dudes.)

“No one’s going to look at a picture of you standing alone in a tux and say, ‘hey, he must have been getting married to a man who plays for his rival team’,” his mom says dryly, which — fair point.

I mean…

“Bear, come here for a sec? I need a favour,” Elaine says, and Bryce immediately stops mid-conversation with Chaz and Ash and trots over, like the momma’s boy he is. Ridiculous.

Jared blinks when Elaine’s phone goes off. “Much better,” she says. “Thanks, honey.”

“I didn’t —” Bryce says, sounding confused, and Jared shrugs at him.

Elaine knows all the tricks. Jared’s smile went from strained to soppy watching that jog.

But, then, fuck it. He doesn’t need excuses. They’re literally all at his and Bryce’s wedding, who’s going to complain about a little kissing?

“Hey,” Bryce says, wrapping an arm around him when he comes over, mouth surprised against Jared’s when he kisses him, but only for a second before he’s kissing back.

“Okay, no,” Erin says. “Stop.”

Erin. Erin will complain about a little kissing. (They're so happy they get to kiss in front of PEOPLE. While OUTSIDE. Downright giddy.)

Also, Jared is pretty sure at a normal wedding, him and Bryce would get first crack at the food, but nope, he’s got to wait in line like everyone else even though he’s starving. Julius won’t let Jared butt in front of him, all ‘just because you’re married now doesn’t make you special’. Julius is the fucking worst. Jared can’t believe he even invited him.

I’ve said it before, but: truly the friend Jared deserves.

“So Jared’s like ‘I’ve never hated someone more in my life’ and ‘what a stupid flashy car Bryce Marcus has, don’t you hate Bryce too, Raf, I hate him so much that I can’t stop talking about him’ and ‘how dare Bryce Marcus say a single word to me, doesn’t he realise how much I loathe him, that handsome bane of my existence’, and he’s blushing bright red every time Bryce walks within ten feet of us, and—”

IJ(aoe), Act I: a summary.

“You didn’t bring lube?” Bryce says.

“No?” Jared says.

“You forgot lube?” Bryce hisses.

From comedy to tragedy.

Jared has to get up to hit the lights — they played rock-paper-scissors for it and Bryce lost but then he looked so dejected Jared got up anyway

True love right there.

“Thanks for marrying me,” Bryce murmurs.

There are so, so many sarcastic responses on Jared’s tongue. So many. And Jared’s sure that Bryce is expecting one, wouldn’t mind, would probably even laugh. But like. He doesn’t want to say any of them. And if there’s any time he can be like, unselfconsciously sappy, he thinks his wedding night probably qualifies.

“It was my privilege,” Jared says, cheeks heating anyway, because apparently nope, there is no time that he can be unselfconsciously sappy up to and including his wedding night, but the smile on Bryce’s face, small and sweet and almost shy, the way it lingers when Jared kisses him, well, it’s worth any embarrassment Jared feels.

They’re so gross, I love them.

110 - Refuge

And they order Thai from their usual place, but Jared doesn’t know if the orders got swapped or someone was new or not paying attention or what, because his usual order is his usual order, except there’s shrimp instead of chicken in his noodles and he can smell shellfish the second he opens his soup, and Bryce is ridiculous when he calls them back, all ‘how can you not see ‘shellfish allergy’ in the notes’ and ‘do you want to kill him?’, like Jared would actually die and not just be moderately to severely uncomfortable if he ate it, which he hadn’t.

Jared is right on the verge of telling Bryce how ridiculous he is when he remembers his dad’s pre-wedding advice, and he bites his tongue and lets Bryce take care of it, even if Bryce’s version of taking care of it is a total overreaction.

Bryce is PROTECTING HIS MAN. And look at Jared listening to his dad’s advice.

There’s a tiny part of Jared that’s faintly appalled he hasn’t left the house for days, hasn’t put on a shirt in just as long — Bryce has offered to be the one to get dressed every time they order food

Bryce transparently wanting to be the provider. Also not wanting Jared to put any clothes on.

“So hey,” Bryce says. He’s trying to make it sound casual, but it doesn’t, and Jared squints up at him suspiciously.

"I want us to keep wearing our wedding rings,” Bryce says.

Bryce being the initiatior of the first step of many that leads to their eventual outing. (I mean, the wedding would also count, but these rings get scrutinized at the time and then down the line).

“You’re worth like, everything,” Bryce says. “You know that, right?” Jared presses his face tighter against Bryce’s shirt, Bryce’s thumb tracing the heated shell of his ear.

Oh kids.

“So you’re okay with it?” Bryce says.

“If you stop saying nice things to me for like, at least an hour,” Jared says. “Then okay.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bryce says solemnly.

“Okay,” Jared says.

“I love you,” Bryce says.

“Bryce!” Jared says.

“That’s not a nice thing, that’s just like, a fact,” Bryce says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jared says, then commences to pull Bryce’s shirt up and stick his head under it, because the only way Jared can maintain the absolute fiction that he’s not blushing is to hide his face.

Jared would protest vociferously, but: he is adorable.

Bryce sacks out early that night, exhausted from his day of lounging around the couch and like, complimenting Jared too much. Jared’s half tempted to poke him awake to just like, not have the honeymoon end yet, but that’s mean. He looks so peaceful, Jared can’t do that to him.

Jared’s a place Bryce can rest, and he takes that role seriously.

#liveblogging the end

59 notes · View notes

joesalw · 2 months

Note

I know you said swifties dni and I am not here to start a fanwar or anything in fact I agree with you.

Ever since Joe and Taylor broke up he has been getting a LOT of hate (even more than Matty Healy which is just overall a bad person) and it's so unfair.

Joe has always been quiet and respectful he does not deserve any of this. Me, alongside some swifties, actually support Joe in everything. Swifties attacking everyone and everything is just gross. I've distanced myself so far from the fandom because of this.

And Travis ain't a saint. He's said multiple weird shit, has breeding kinks etc. Yet swifties love him to death despite constantly being so drunk he can't stand still.

I love Joe always have always will. He does not deserve this and swifties going after him is truly pathetic 💀

Last year in april the hate against him was unbearable. it's very nice to see people gradually understanding the actual situation and defending him under the hate comments. even a part of sane swifties also treat him as an actual human being and not some manipulating villain for the breakup. idk what's gonna happen after the album release but to me joe seems very happy in life rn and i want it to stay that way.

Swifties in general would never drag Matty or Travis to this point because they know these guys do not matter that much to Taylor. Since she herself is hung up on him, they are hung up on him too

#anti taylor swift #joe alwyn

30 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

keeppushingme-bookboy

Combat Dunamancy My Beloved

allenkondrup15

The Blogging of Manning 889

ziqitzah

Untitled

d-criss-news

Darren Criss News

souls4crifice

¡Deadly Dose of Garage & Psych!