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moonit3 · 20 days

Note

Yandere boss x male reader husband, I imagine Leonard would force you to marry him and his sexual advances would be more aggressive on the honeymoon.

You refuse to sleep with him and Leonard decides to remind you of your nuptial duties.

He drugs you and decides to force himself on you

HONEYMOON OF NIGHTMARES

⟡ cw: male yandere, heavy themes!, amab! reader, nsfw, noncon, virginity lose (from reader’s), sub! reader, top! yandere, blowjob (brief), a.nal, s3x, reader is not having a good time, mention of suicide but nothing happens, forced marriage, bondage(?), handcuffs, drugs and unrealistic expectations of it (i never used it, so i am relying heavily on what Ive learned by reading/ other people experiences and also inventing how long does it take to get under the effect of if, don’t do drugs), please don’t read this if you are weak and tell me if i am forgetting something.

⟡ word count: 2.6 k

⟡ yandere! boss x amab! reader

⟡ notes: sooooo, I being another attempt of writing mlm context in the blog for my dear amab!/male readers that probably feel excluded of the yandere community. please keep in mind that today’s work has heavy elements that might be hurtful to some people and can not be tolerated in real life! remember that, guys. I don’t want anyone to come here and tell me that I should die, so if you feel uncomfortable with the topics added in the content warning, don’t read this. Beware of my spelling mistake here.

the old fairytale of of true love never failed to make you smile. it’s magical the old times when grandma would recite stories of her memories about two individuals who despite everything they always ended together, a simple but beautiful tale.

your always dreamed of marrying a prince when growing up and it slightly shocked when grandma heard that for the first time. a man marrying another one? that is new for me, but it is fine. the tailor will sell two suits in one session, so it’s even better for them… now go get me a cigarette before my soup opera starts, kid. her words comforted you when no one knew about your interest in men when you were younger. initially, you believed she would hate you like the rest of the family did when learning about that part of you, but she stayed at your side regardless of what other people said about you. she was your number supporter til her last breath, always saying that you should marry anyone if you truly loved them.

her words were sweet, consistently making you smile when the world was against you. so you can easily imagined grandma would be devastated if she was alive, hearing about your engagement with a man who you don’t love. a man who took everything away from you, the main responsible for taking your freedom away.

it was dreadful that you were coerced into saying yes in front of the people he invited to the wedding, unfamiliar faces as you refused to invite your family (to avoid them seeing you so ridiculously depressed) and forced to place a fake smile on the lips.

leonard made you write wedding vows, which you hadn’t much option than lying about your true feelings towards him.

my love towards him is like a star, burning me inside and always there even though it can’t be seen nor touched.

you hate him, you despise him! the many fantasies you have of killing leonard with your hands are more common than you want to admit. and by marrying him, this dream won’t stop anytime soon.

like a charming prince, he helped me go through many difficult moments in my life and always is around to save me when i am in trouble.

he is the problem. leonard gives you more trouble since you were forced to step down from the company, making you work from the from his own mansion as a way to keep an eye on you.

every time you touch me, i feel butterflies inside my stomach. it’s make me nervous to be able to hug and kiss you as you are real, not an imagination.

you feel nauseous when his hands touched your skin, it’s never fails to make you tremble when leonard just approaches you and spend minutes holding you in his arms. he never took things further, a blessing, but only because he believes it’s wrong to have his way with you prior the honeymoon.

he made the day you always dreamed of a nightmare, one that you won’t wake up anytime soon. the little boy who often daydreamed of marrying a prince who would be your hero, your hero in shining armor never came, instead, leonard stole away from any possibility of you meeting your hero. you are trapped in the deepest part of the dungeon with him being the warden.

after saying yes to the priest, the rest of ceremony was a success for leonard, who couldn’t leave you alone for one second, like someone has glued him to you. it’s irritating that people seen him as a hopeless romantic when holding your hand to cut the cake for the guests, it’s offense when they began thinking you are just shy to show off affection to him when public when you hate his presence in general. when will this party ended? you want nothing more than drown in those expensive drinks to forget about today, perhaps to never wake up and stay forever dreaming that you married the prince not him. but that never happened.

leonard didn’t allow any alcoholic beverages in the wedding nor during the after party and don’t even think there was a single drop of those expensive champagne there, there was nothing to take your mind away from him. you will have to endure him during the first night as a couple, but hey, the luxury room he rent for a week in another country has a great view of the city.

“i can’t— i don’t think i’m going to—“ a loud moan interrupted yours words, making you feel like an idiot to not be able to hold it back. it’s disgusting that leonard is enjoying touching you even you plead him to stop. “please, please, please stop!”

the tears coming out of your eyes aren’t stopping, not when he keeps stroking your cock without pausing. the sounds coming from your lips are beautiful, perfectly matching the lewd sound that your pretty cock is making after an orgasm. it’s adorable how you fail to move away from his hands, trapped by those tightly handcuffs preventing you from escape the headboard, how humiliating is you for not putting more of a fight.

his left hand going up and down at your member, not moving away his glance away from the tears coming out of your pretty eyes, it remind him of those choker pearl he plans to gift you after this special night. and the crimson coming out of your skin from his bites is a great reminder that he needs to get you that long red coat to match his dark suit, it will make both of you look a perfect couple during the next conference.

he can already imagine the many opportunities to show off to the world as his darling husband. would the media be shocked that he is dating a man? probably not, tabloids already had rumors of him dating someone of his gender during his teenager. however, he can already imagine the public’s reactions when hearing that he turned his employer into his husband.

they would see it as a fairy tale coming true. a rich man who has fallen in love with his own worker, the same who came from a struggling background after being kicked out for his sexuality, only to be saved by him. he will gain more popularity and power over the public, making the two of you prominent figures in the public eyes. but before that happens, he needs to make you submit to him.

he takes his hand away from your leaking cock, already proud of himself for making you come a few times to his touch. beautiful to see that you’ve dirty yourself with your own fluids, it would be perfect to just take a photo and frame it at his home office, but he decided to go to a different approach.

“please, stay still. my love.” his hands prevent you from move away, not having option than feeling his tongue licking your own fluids away from your pelvic area. “you taste delicious, [name].”

his eyes stare at you face, seeing how you are holding back your moans to prevent leonard from hear the sweet melody coming out your lips. you would expect him to be angry at your stupid act of rebellion, probably gaining a slap or two from him to make you stop acting like this, but instead he just smiles.

you watch his hands approach your face, holding it like a you are nothing more than a fragile piece of glass that can easily break at any moment. his thumb fondle your lower lips, opening your mouth to force you swallow dry something you don’t know what, yet by feeling the weird sensation around your throat going down your stomach is probably a pill. and by how your mind began distorting the room, you can guess that he drugged you.

the walls began twisting themselves when your eyes try to focus on the many pieces of art placed on them. your breathing gets more intense than before, taking more seconds to force your lungs to take action to keep yourself calm and your body is getting hotter by every second goes by. it’s a struggle to keep calm when realizing that leonard did it to make you weaker to his touch, preventing you from putting a fight. you wish that your mind would stop thinking of what he is going to do next.

knowing that you won’t try again to escape, he spread your legs apart to make him finally see the view he was dreaming of. and by how it looks, leonard knows that you are complete untouched, meaning that he will be your first one.

he grabs a bottle of lubricant at the nightstand and applies it to your entrance, finding it cute that your already began shaking on it own by the coldness of it. gently, leonard puts one finger inside your tiny gap to let him feel your inner walls. a blood-curdling scream of yours took over the room when his finger started moving in and out, making your body mess around the bed as a futile effort to get away.

“h-hah—!“ you have become more sensitive to the drug. feeling leonard’s finger touching your walls and trying to get as deeper as possible is driving your mind insane. “plea— please…stop!”

of course, your pleadings went unheard. instead of having mercy on you, leonard pressed another finger inside your hole and hold your hips to prevent you from squirm your hips away. he is having fun by seeing the pain on your face, you know that, and feeling his fingers’ speed increases is not something you are going to handle well.

you can’t form any coherent words to speak up, the pain coming from your entrance is the only think you can focus on. it’s too much,you have a feeling that you might die during the next part of tonight’s plan if leonard doesn’t get some senses that your body is going to break down if he continues like this.

another load came out of your cock shortly after, resulting in leonard takes his fingers out of your entrance and to make a small distance between you and him. he stares down at you, admiring what you’ve become because of him, a completely mess with full of tears, greenish bruises all over your skin and fluids on your stomach.

“i think you are ready to take me.” leonard said. “you are probably nervous for me being your first, but don’t worry, i will be gently for this one.”

you couldn’t move your body anymore, not with the drugs finally taking control over your entire body, but your teary eyes can catch the glimpse of leonard’s cock. it’s thick and already hard, ready to penetrate you at any moment from now.

“w-wait…” between sobbing, you managed to form a proper word. “i n-not— don’t want t-this.”

leonard ignored your words once again, this time your heart is beating faster than before, fully aware that after tonight, you will be his forever.

he spreads you wider to see that your hole is filled with the lubricant from before and now it’s a little more relaxed, but are you relaxed? your body who seems to be more than ready to take leonard’s full strength, but the tears and pleading of yours are showing that you aren’t ready for it, yet you know leonard isn’t going to care about your words. at least, not tonight.

positioning himself in the middle of your legs, leonard carefully sank his cock into you deeply. a slow process that made you stay still as you feared that moving would only make things worse.

you tried to hold back from drooling as leonard began thrusting in and out of your entrance. quite humiliating that your body is acting this way, so dumb and unable to hold it back. as much you wish to space out of this situation, pretending that you could be somewhere else with someone that isn’t your husband, your mind can only focus on the man above you.

hands on your waist, with zero chance to remove them away from you as he fears you would simply vanish from existence. eyes on your expression, loving how desperate and precious you look with tears and drool over you face. his cock inside you, not daring to stop rocking his hips into you to hear the moans coming from you.

he continues to move inside you, a little bit more fast and harder than before, as he remembers that you are probably sensitive from coming two times. leonard knows that you are getting closer to a third release and that one would send you to sleep, so he needs to take things extra hard to not let you lose the fun part.

“t-too fast!” your hips are going to be bruised by the harsh thrusts and how strongly leonard is handling you. throwing a leg of your above his shoulder isn’t going to end well, you know that. “l-leo—leonard!”

your cock began twitching and leaking cum again over your stomach, dirtying yourself even more as your pleadings continues to be unheard by him. it’s making you dizzy feeling another orgasm coming up and the drugs make the effect worse for your mind, who is begging for this to endure just a little longer to avoid any more punishment from leonard.

it didn’t took much time for the final climax to arrive. your entire body feels so full after leonard came inside your entrance, too much to handle as some of his fluids ooze out of you, slowly ooze from your entrance.

“you did a good job, [name].” his voice. you mind barely registered that he is speaking, the entire rooms only gets more and more entangled when the handcuffs are finally removed. despite not seeing your wrists, you can feel the bruises around it from being tied up so tightly by him during hours and hours.

he lays next to you, bringing you closer to his body to cuddle you. his large arms wrapping around you, an extra layer of prevention to keep you from escaping and to feel your body’s warmth. leonard would never admit out loud, but he loves seeing you like this, so tiredly that he could do anything with you regardless of your approval. but he wouldn’t do this, at least, not in a special night like this one.

“next time, you will ride me. doesn’t that sound good?” he knows you won’t answer him, not when you are struggling to keep your eyes open, yet he still wants to see for how long you keep fighting your body’s desire to fall asleep, so why not playing with it? “or we could go for another round, you know, to build some extra stamina for future times like this. maybe you could just sleep and i keep going.”

between your quietly sobbing, you manage to voice a ‘no’, trying to keep you from getting hurt again by leonard. he could use your body for his pleasure alone another time, but tonight, you can feel all of your muscles and mind worn out by him.

you don’t want more of him, you want to fall asleep and dream about being saved by a knight in a shining armor who will tell you that everything was just a nightmare, that you are going to be alright in someone’s arms. but you know what to expect when waking up tomorrow in the arms of the monster that owns you.

“sleep well, my love.” he planted a kiss right behind your ear. “tomorrow, we will spend more time together as a newly married couple.”

@moonit3 . don’t repost it, don’t modify it, don’t plagiarize, translate it without my permission.

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gigabyte-flare · 1 month

Text

The Devil is Real (Part 1)

Summary: Your troubled older brother disappeared two years ago, vanishing without a trace; that is until one day you receive a letter from him. He’s living in Spain after having joined a religious group called Los Iluminados, his life seemingly changed for the better. He would love it if you came to visit him. Who are you to refuse an invitation from your beloved big brother, right?

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

A/N: I want to give a shoutout to @d10nyx, who's bot heavily inspired this new series. I had been wanting to write plagas!Leon again for so long, but I wanted to do something I hadn't seen done before and my interaction with her bot planted the seed (breeding kink go brrrrrrrrrrrr). This will likely be my darkest series yet so if that's not your jam, I kindly ask that you keep scrolling. It should be noted that any of the Spanish seen in this series is either from my extremely vague recollection of the language from my youth or from Google translate, so I apologize if there's any weird grammar in any of the Spanish, it is not my intention to butcher the language.

I hope you guys like thrill rides :3

The title is inspired by Bad Things performed by I Prevail

April 22, 2008

Sis,

I apologize for this being the first time I’ve contacted you in two years, but I promise you, it was for good reason. I finally got help. I moved out to Spain to this lovely rural area called Valdelobos to live with this wonderful community called Los Iluminados. I’ve been sober for just over two years because of them. I would really love it if you came to visit, you would absolutely love it here, sis! I would love more than anything to share with you the community that has made such a huge difference in my life. I don’t have access to a computer, so you’ll have to send me a letter to reply. You can find the return address on the envelope. I eagerly await your letter!

With all my love,

Vince

You sit on your old saggy couch, gently holding the handwritten letter in your hands like it’s going to disintegrate. Your mind is in turmoil; your older brother Vincent, or Vince as most people call him, had disappeared about two years ago. He struggled with drug addiction when he reached adulthood, always chasing his next high. When you had reported him missing, police searched everywhere for him for weeks until you finally had to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely dead.

This letter, however, says otherwise.

“Who’s it from?” your boyfriend asks before sitting beside you, seeing the strained look on your face and growing concerned.

You don’t answer him at first, your eyes locked on the weathered piece of paper. Realizing your boyfriend, Mark, had asked you a question, you blink a few times and shake your head, snapping yourself out of the shocked daze.

“It’s from Vince,” you reply, looking over at Mark.

Mark looks at the paper you’re holding, then back to you, “are you sure it’s from Vince?”

“Of course I’m sure! That is definitely his handwriting. He’s alive!”

You hand the letter to Mark, who takes a moment to read the letter himself, adjusting his glasses as he does so, “he wants you to go visit. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea…” you say softly, burying your face in your hands as you continue to struggle with your emotions.

Growing up, all you had was your brother, having lost your parents at a young age. Growing up, the both of you lived with your grandparents, but they were very abusive. As soon as Vince had turned 18, he fought to become your legal guardian and the two of you moved out. Unfortunately, Vince had turned to drugs to deal with his trauma, but could you blame him? Your grandfather was especially hard on Vince; there were many nights you could remember falling asleep to the sounds of the two of them shouting and throwing things at each other.

There’s a ten year gap between you and your brother, so naturally Vince had become something of a father figure to you, especially considering you were only two when your parents had died. A car accident you had been told; hit by a drunk driver on the way home from a New Year’s party. You felt like life always dealt you a shitty hand. First your parents, then your brother. But now, your brother seems to be back and he’s ok; he’s sober. You should be happy, so why are you so conflicted?

“I’m going to do some research on this ‘Los Iluminados’ group,” you finally say before standing up from the couch to walk into your bedroom, “make sure it isn’t some Jim Jones bullshit…”

“I’ll get dinner started then,” Mark says, also standing up, making his way over to the kitchen, “I’ll holler when dinner’s ready.”

You nod at Mark before walking into the bedroom, sitting down at your desk in the corner of the room, opening your laptop and powering it on. You open up Internet Explorer and open a new Google search window, typing in Los Iluminados which unsurprisingly yielded zero results; with them not having computer access, it makes sense that there’s no trace of this group on the internet by searching their name. You then search cults in Spain and skim through the results. Again, there’s no mention of Los Iluminados anywhere. Drumming your fingers on your desk, you begin to question the letter’s legitimacy. Whoever sent it knew where you lived and that your brother had been missing for two years. No one would go through that much trouble just to prank someone.

“Babe, dinner’s ready!” you hear Mark call from the kitchen.

Letting out a sigh, you reluctantly stand up from your desk, walking out of the bedroom to join your boyfriend in the living room, who just finished putting both your plates down onto the coffee table. Laying in the middle of the living room, your 8 year old brindle English Mastiff, André, lifts his head lazily, sniffing the air upon smelling food. You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you sit down on the couch, grabbing your plate to start eating.

“Even in his old age, André has a one track mind,” Mark says, watching as the large dog gets up from the floor. Mark gently pats him on the head, “don’t you buddy?”

“He sure does,” you reply, reaching over to pat the gentle giant before returning to your meal.

“Were you able to find anything on that group in the letter?” Mark asks, looking over at you before taking a bite of food.

“Not a damn thing. Which I guess makes sense but still…” you say, your voice trailing off as you let out a heavy sigh, “something about it just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Then we go to Spain, find out if this group is real or not and bounce if it’s just a wild goose chase,” Mark says, weaving his left hand through the air as he speaks.

“And who’s going to watch André?”

André’s big brown eyes look between the two of you, letting out a soft whimper. Mark mouths the word ‘fuck’ before taking another bite of dinner.

“Right,” Mark says quietly, giving André another pat on the head.

The two of you finish eating dinner in silence, afterwards helping each other clean up the dishes. You let Mark know that you’re going to write a response to Vince’s letter, heading back up to the bedroom to sit back at the desk, pulling out a notebook and a pencil.

May 15, 2008

Vince,

First, I just want to say I am relieved to see that you’re ok and that you’re doing better. You had dropped off the face of the earth and I couldn’t find you anywhere; I thought you were dead! I’m so incredibly glad I was wrong. And, of course, congratulations are in order for your two years of sobriety. I know that’s something you really struggled with and I’m glad this community was able to help you. Is it a religious group? I think Los Iluminados roughly translates to “The Enlightened Ones” if my vague recollection of Spanish serves me right. Regardless, I would love to come visit you and see where you’ve been living these past two years, just let me know where I need to go.

Sis

May 31, 2008

Sis,

I was so excited to see you had written back that I practically ripped the envelope open. Los Iluminados is a small religious community and, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not a cult, so you have nothing to worry about there. They’re really big on living a traditional, almost pagan-like lifestyle and for me, being able to unplug while I got better was exactly what I needed. I’m hoping after experiencing Los Iluminados yourself that you’ll feel the same. As far as getting you here goes, you’ll want to fly into Valencia Airport, we’ll come pick you up from there. Call the enclosed number once you have your flight booked and tell Maria what day you’re coming. I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Vince

You tuck the letter back in your carry on bag, leaning back in your seat on the airplane and closing your eyes. You land in Valencia Airport in less than an hour and you are doing everything in your power to keep your nerves in check and not get your hopes up. You did as Vince had asked, you called this woman named Maria and with really broken Spanish, you had told her you were flying in on June 17th. At some point you must have dozed off because you’re jolted awake when the plane lands on the tarmac.

The plane pulls into the dock and you along with the other passengers file out. You head down to baggage claim to grab your luggage; you had packed about a week’s worth of clothes since you didn’t know how long you were staying. You low key were hoping to talk your brother into coming back to the States with you, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you get there. That thought is far from your mind, however, when you get through airport security and immediately spot your brother holding a large sign with your name on it. Your mouth hangs agape as you stop in your tracks. The last time you had seen him, he was a 33 year old who looked almost 50 due to his years of drug abuse. Now? He has color in his face, he’s gained weight and actually looks healthy. His clothes are a little disheveled and covered in dirt, but he’s smiling, probably the first time you’ve seen him smile since you were children.

Dropping your luggage, you run over to your brother, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight, tears freely flowing from your eyes as you cry out, “it’s you, you’re real! You’re alive!”

Vince tightly hugs you back, rocking you both back and forth before stepping back, smiling down at you as his hands remain on your shoulders, “look at you! All grown up; 25 has treated you nicely!”

You playfully scoff before walking back to grab your luggage, “hardly.”

You return to Vince, who then takes your luggage from you as the two of you begin to walk out of the airport, “how’s Mark? You two are still together, I take it?”

“We are! He’s doing good, he’s at home watching André.”

“André is still around? That’s nice to hear!” Vince says as the two of you walk up to a very beat up looking sedan, “here’s our luxury limousine!”

You playfully smack him with the back of your hand, “very funny, Vince.”

You watch as Vince opens the trunk of the sedan, putting your luggage inside, he looks up at you as he closes the trunk, “go ahead and get in the back seat, Sis.”

You nod in acknowledgement, climbing into the back seat, your brother joining you shortly after. An older couple sits in the driver’s and passenger’s sides of the sedan, promptly driving away from the airport once you and your brother put your seatbelts on.

“We have about a three hour drive ahead of us, you must be exhausted from your flight,” Vince says, looking over at you and giving you a warm smile.

You nod, feeling your eyes grow heavy from jet lag, however you force your eyes to stay open; you desperately don’t want to miss a single moment with your brother.

“Hey,” Vince lays a hand on your shoulder, “it’s ok, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get close to the village.”

“If you say so…” you reply softly.

You hesitantly let your eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. It feels like only a moment has passed when Vince shakes you awake.

“Hey Sis, we’re here!”

After getting out of the car, there was still a considerable hike until you got to the village proper. Once getting there, however, you find yourself pleasantly surprised. You weren't sure what you were expecting of a small village at the center of a religious community but what you’re seeing wasn’t it. It is a bonafide village, with actual houses, a town center, a watchtower and a large brick structure towards the back. In the distance, you can see a windmill slowly spinning. You chalk it up to the large number of documentaries you had watched on cults leading up to this trip that painted a picture in your mind of what this village would look like; the small, white cottages of People’s Temple immediately coming to mind. A part of you is glad you were wrong.

“So, what do you think?” Vince asks me, gesturing one of his hands towards the village, “this is where I’ve been these last two years.”

“It’s nothing like what I expected, it’s… honestly really peaceful,” you reply, looking around the village in awe.

You watch as several of the other villagers stop what they’re doing to look at you and your brother, an older woman over by a well giving both of you a warm smile before pulling a bucket of water up from the well.

“My house is over here,” Vince continues, pointing to one of the houses on the left before leading you towards it.

Vince’s house sits next to the watchtower, he opens the door and walks inside. Before you enter, you happen to turn around and look towards the large brick building in the back of the village. Standing at the door is someone wearing a black cloak with gold trim, underneath his clothes you can tell he’s wearing cargo pants and a tight fitting athletic shirt of some kind. But that’s not what grabs your attention; it’s his azure eyes locked on you, causing your blood to run cold.

“Vince,” you say, your voice trembling as you reach to grab his wrist, stopping him, “who is that over there?”

Vince turns to look where you’re looking, letting out a soft chuckle once he sees who you’re looking at, “him? That’s just Leon. He’s the right hand of our Lord Saddler. He’s probably here to check on things, don’t worry about him. Come inside.”

Vince practically pulls you, shutting and barring the door shut once you’re inside.

“Why are you blocking the door?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as your brother turns to face you.

“We tend to have an open door policy in the village. Where you and I haven’t seen each other for awhile, I figured it’d be best to have some privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod as you take in your surroundings. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and around the corner, a dining table and a kitchen area. Several candles are burning; they definitely don’t have electricity and running water in this village. Behind your brother is a worn couch.

“Is that where I’m sleeping?” you ask, pointing at the couch.

“Nope, you get the bed upstairs. I can live with the couch for a while. Nothing but the best for my little sis.”

“Thanks Vince,” you reply, grabbing your luggage, “I’ll bring this upstairs, then maybe we can talk. You know… catch up.”

You grab your luggage, dragging it up the stairs. You spot the bed at the end of the bannister next to a window overlooking the village center. As you’re staring out the window, you spot the cloaked man, Leon, again. He’s standing in the center of town, looking right at you. It sends a chill down your spine. You turn around and scream a little when your brother taps you on the shoulder.

“You ok? You weren’t answering me,” Vince says, his face full of concern.

“Sorry… it’s that guy. He’s right down there staring at the window,” you reply, turning to point out the window, however, Leon is gone, “oh, nevermind. It must have been my imagination.”

“He’s like… a guard dog of sorts. He’s probably just making sure you’re chill,” Vince explains, gently grabbing you by your upper arm and leading you back downstairs, “he’s like that with anyone he doesn’t know.”

“Right, of course…” you’re still uneasy, but decide to trust your brother.

“I’ll get started on dinner, have a seat at the table,” says Vince before walking over to the large wood stove, which is already aflame.

“Can I help with anything?” you ask, still standing by the table.

“No, I got it. Been doing this for two years. I can handle it. You’re the guest of honor, you just sit back, relax and let your brother take care of you.”

While your brother prepares dinner for the two of you, you make small talk, getting him caught up on the two years worth of stuff he missed. You told him about Mark and André, told him that your horrendous grandfather finally passed away a year ago; you had caught a smirk on Vince’s face before he turned his attention back to making dinner. Once dinner is finished, he sets both plates down at the table and the two of you dig in.

“Earlier you had said Lord Saddler,” you begin, taking a bite of food before continuing, “Vince… are you sure this isn’t a cult?”

Your brother bursts out laughing, reaching over to put his hand on yours to comfort you, “Lord Osmund Saddler is the patriarch of Los Iluminados and the speaker for the Holy Body. I’m not held here against my will. I promise you with every fiber of my being, this isn’t a cult, Sis.”

“I’m sorry I just… I may have watched a bunch of documentaries before coming here on cults and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

Vince smiles, “Don’t worry, no one is going to drink any Kool Aid here.”

“Vince, that’s terrible!” you playfully smack him, “also it wasn’t even Kool Aid!”

You can’t help but laugh, slowly letting your mind be at ease. It’s clear your brother is happy and healthy here in this village. Before you can continue your conversation with Vince, you hear the chime of a church bell in the distance and you watch as your brother immediately stands up.

“What’s that all about?” you ask, slowly standing up.

“That is the sound of evening service. Come! I’d love for you to see one of Father Méndez’s services.”

Taking your hand, Vince unblocks the door and takes you outside. You see all the villages are filling into the large brick building you had seen Leon standing in front of earlier.

“That’s the meeting house, we have to pass through it to get to the church,” he explains to you as he leads you to follow the other villagers inside the building.

Upon walking in there is a large room, shelves of food and supplies lining the walls. In the back of the room was a large painting of a robed man; not Leon, but someone else, Vince notices you staring at the painting.

“That is our Lord Saddler. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him during your visit; he’s a wonderful patriarch, I think you’ll like him.”

There is something about the painting that unsettles you, but you can’t put your finger on it; nor do you have time to because before you know it, Vince is leading you into the adjacent room. This room has a large table lined with chairs on both sides. You both proceed around the table exiting out of the door on the other side with the other villagers. The door takes you out to a winding path which opens up to a cemetery with the church sitting just at the top of the hill.

You and your brother make your way up the hill, following the rest of the villagers into the church where you and your brother sit in one of the pews in the middle. There is an extremely tall man standing at the altar, wearing a black leather trench coat and a large brim hat. His dark beard has subtle white hairs, indicating to you that he’s much older than you and your brother. In fact, now that you think about it, you realize you and your brother are probably the youngest ones in the church.

Behind the imposing man is a large stained glass window decorated with red, blue, green and white. The white glass makes a pattern. You’re not sure what to make of it; it’s almost like a crude insect-like cross with four appendage-like parts extended out with a tail pointing downwards. Once everyone is seated in the pews, the man at the altar addresses the villagers.

“My brothers and sisters,” the man begins, his Hispanic accent thick, “before we begin tonight’s sermon, I wanted to welcome the visitor that Vincent has brought to visit our village.” The man gestures one of his hands towards us, “if you would do the honors, Vincent.”

Your brother stands up, “Gracias, Father Méndez. This is my younger sister,” he says before telling everyone your name, “she’ll be staying with me for a while, we haven’t seen each other since I first came here. I hope you all can join me in showing her what makes Los Iluminados a special community.”

The other villagers clap softly as Vince sits back down. After that, Father Méndez begins the service, which is in Spanish, so you strained your brain to try to pick up bits and pieces of what he’s saying. This doesn’t last long, however as your eye catches movement in the darkness in the back of the church. You feel your heart skip; it’s Leon again, his azure gaze once again locked on you. His expression is cold and emotionless, but there is no doubt in your mind that he is staring at you.

As if sensing your unease, your brother nudges you with his elbow and whispers, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s Leon again…” you reply, nodding your head in Leon’s direction.

Vince’s gaze follows yours, spotting Leon staring at you from the back of the church. Vince lets out a soft sigh.

“I’ll talk to Father Méndez after the service.”

For the rest of the service, you steal glances towards the back of the church, where Leon remains, still staring at you. At the end of the service, however, when you look back, Leon is finally gone, much to your relief.

Father Méndez’s booming voice draws your attention back to him, “¡Gloria a Las Plagas!”

“¡Gloria a Las Plagas!” the villagers, including Vince, repeat back.

Gloria a Las… Plagas? you think to yourself, glory to the… plague? Plagues? Pests? What? That makes no sense…

Before you can think it over further, your brother stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him.

“Pablo,” Vince says as he approaches another villager, “¿Puedes llevar a mi hermana de regreso a mi casa? Tengo que hablar con el padre Méndez.”

The man nods, “sí, claro.”

Vince turns his attention back to you, “Pablo here is going to take you back to my house while I talk to Father Méndez about Leon, ok? I won’t be long.”

“Alright, thanks Vince,” you reply as Pablo gently takes you by your upper arm, leading you out of the church.

You turn back, watching your brother approach Father Méndez before the church doors close behind you.

“Vincent,” Méndez begins as Vince approaches him, “what can I do for you, my brother?”

“It’s about Leon,” Vince says, crossing his arms, “I want him to leave my sister alone.”

“What do you mean? You do remember what you agreed to, no?” Méndez presses straightening his posture.

“I do remember, but he is scaring her. All he’s done since she got here is stare at her.”

“And? Are you saying you’re defying the will of Lord Saddler?”

“No, of course not!” Vince exclaims before lowering his voice, “but if we want any chance of her staying in Los Iluminados, he needs to chill out with the staring, ok? Is that too much to ask, Father?”

Méndez brings a hand to his beard, stroking it as he contemplates Vince’s request. After a few moments, he gently nods, “fine. I will speak with Lord Saddler on this.”

“Thank you, Father.”

She is perfect.

Leon stands at the end of the bed that you’re sleeping in, completely oblivious to his presence. Bringing his hands up, he lowers the hood of his cloak. The exposed skin on his neck and face are completely covered in inky black veins and seem to pulse under his skin. He gently crawls onto the bed, being careful not to wake you as he cages you with his body.

Leaning down so that his nose is nearly pressed against the side of your neck, he breathes in your scent deeply, opening his mouth slightly to lick his sharpened incisors with his tongue. He moves away from your neck, staring down at you as he watches your chest rise and fall gently as you slumber. Unable to help himself, he leans back down, his lips hovering above yours when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.

His head snaps towards the stairs, crawling off your bed with the grace and stealth of a panther. He brings his hood back up over his head, walking silently over to the open window at the head of the stairs where he had let himself in, climbing out and shutting the window carefully behind him, not leaving a single trace that he was even there.

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #plagas!leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove #gigabyte writes

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loveueddie · 1 month

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𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙'𝙨 𝙎𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙡𝙪𝙩

Pairing: Modern!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie warms you up for "work."

Warnings: +18, Smut, unprotected sex, insults like 'slut', mention of drugs, slaps, Dom!Eddie, mention of 'Daddy', pornographic video. (I think that's just it haha)

Author's Notes: This is my first work, I couldn't proofread it so don't throw stones at me for mistakes lol. English is not exactly my language, forgive me if something is wrong. 🫶🏼🩷

You and Eddie are best friends with benefits. He calls you when he wants to wet his cock and you call him when your pussy needs attention. But what no one knew was that you two made videos during sex and posted them on a famous porn site, you two were famous on the site and made money. All of this had advantages, after all, who wouldn't want to make money just by having sex? Especially with Eddie Munson.

Having money was good and having sex with Eddie Munson was even better, he was her best friend but God, how could someone like him, who hadn't had that many experiences with girls throughout his life, be so good at fucking? It was a secret, maybe he was so fascinated in pornography since he was young and now he was doing his own with you.

Lying on your best friend's couch, wearing nothing but Eddie's old shirt, white lace panties, white socks on your feet and a herb wrapped in silk between your toes, you watch your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, his skillful fingers, which They were in your pussy a few minutes ago, typing on the laptop on his lap, probably checking the comments on the video he posted of fucking your breasts earlier.

His curly hair was a little messy, shirtless, the tip of his tongue between his lips and the buttons of his black jeans were open, showing the happy trail of his pubic hair. He was sitting lazily on the couch, his legs parted as if silently inviting you to sit on his lap or kneel between his legs to suck him off. Both options were really good.

You pass the herb wrapped in silk for him to take a drag of which he thanks you with a wink and squeezing your thigh with his hand, leaving the marks of his rings and fingers on your skin.

Eddie laughed at a particularly nasty comment about her tit-sucking skills. "Looks like the Hawkins Freak has a new skill." He says with a smile as he squeezes your thigh, enjoying the sight of your ass peeking out of those white panties. "I bet I could make them cum just by sucking on those tits right now." Eddie blinks and blows a smoke ring, flicking the ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. "Want to make us more money, baby?" Eddie asks as he caresses your bare, reddened thigh with his fingers.

You laugh, slapping his hand playfully and making a fake pout with your lips. "Doesn't the star here deserve a rest?"

Eddie smiles smugly, stretching and flexing his arm to show off. "Nah, we're doing good now, honey. I know you can take more." He suggests, pressing a finger against your cheek to gently turn your face to his, and looking at you lustfully. Eddie hands you the weed as he puts his laptop aside and lays down next to you on the couch, turning you onto your side to fit on his side. You feel his bare chest against your back. "I know you can. You never let me down." Eddie whispers, slowly rubbing his hard cock against your ass. Eddie's breath tickles your ear before kissing it softly. "Are you going to deny me, slut?"

Your breathing becomes shaky when he calls you a slut, kissing your ear and making you shiver. You bite your lip and then take another drag of the joint, playfully blowing the smoke in his face. Eddie laughs at your playful teasing and takes a deep whiff of the smoke, then takes the joint from your fingers. "So fucking sexy, baby." He murmurs, pulling your closer by your hips until they're flush against each other. "We'll give our fans something to jerk off to." He hand slides over your stomach, running his fingers over your sensitive skin, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. "Tell me, slut. How do you want to fuck tonight?" Eddie's fingers curl around your waist, giving your ass a gentle squeeze as he ponders your answer. "On your knees, on your back, bent over... It's your choice." His lips brush against her cheek, making her shudder as his hard cock presses against her ass. "We're going to make our fans cum, baby. Let's have fun."

You smile at him, rubbing your nose against his as you blow smoke into your half-open mouth, in which Eddie swallows the smoke satisfyingly. "Anyway you want."

Eddie laughs, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away. "Open your legs, baby." His voice is full of desire, the command mixed with a harsh tone. "I'm going to touch your soaking wet pussy." Eddie's hand slides up your thigh, pushing your panties aside to expose your slick folds. "I bet your pussy is already dripping for me, isn't it?" He murmurs against your earlobe, his finger tracing circles around your swollen clit as you gasp, your hips arching. "What a horny slut..."

Eddie's finger slides inside you, making you moan louder. His fingers curl deeper, teasing your sensitive spot as you throw your head back, your body shaking with pleasure. "They want to see us cumming on each other... And that's exactly what we're going to do." Eddie's free hand runs down your chest, pinching your nipple as he pumps his finger inside you, until the rings are inside you too.

Eddie pushes a second finger inside you, stretching your wet pussy as you whimper his name. "So wet, slut." He rubs his fingers against your G-spot, his cock throbbing in your ass as you pant. "I want to see that beautiful pussy when I fuck you, baby." Eddie slowly withdraws his fingers, tracing a wet path towards your clit before rubbing it firmly. "Get ready... I'm going to make you cum and we'll film it for our fans." His warm breath on your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you nod anxiously. "Let's give them what they want, slut." His thumb pressing against your clit as he hooks another finger, rubbing your swollen bud until your hips buck uncontrollably, your wet heat squeezing him. "Come for me, baby..." Eddie's voice is low, a whisper harshly as you choke. Your body shaking as you scream and whimper his name, your juices covering his hand.

You cum in his hand, panting and your chest rising and falling. You take a drag on the joint before passing it to him, placing the joint between your lips for him to take a drag on, since his fingers were busy in your soaked pussy.

Eddie sucks on the joint, shaking it as he strokes her tender, sensitive pussy, admiring your sensitive flesh glistening with her arousal. "Perfect, slut. It's show time..."

He kisses your hip, trailing down your inner thigh as you let out a satisfied sigh. "Get on all fours, baby." Eddie orders softly, pulling his fingers away from your pussy, making you moan softly, eager for his touch. “Now.” Eddie says in a husky voice, pulling your hair playfully, his cock throbbing with excitement as you obey, spreading your legs wide. Eddie smiles satisfied, taking the video camera with his hand wet with his cum, the other hand slaps his ass hard before starting to lower his black jeans to his knees, he wasn't even in his underwear.

You tilt your head to look at him over your shoulder, but Eddie grabs your hair and forces you to face forward. "Not yet, porn star." He plays with you, although his tone is hoarse with desire and commanding. He watches your panties stuck between your soaked folds. Eddie basically preps you before turning on the camera, adjusting your shirt above the waist and taking one last drag on the joint. The joint always made him hornier than normal.

Eddie turns on the camera, pointing at your wet pussy from behind, making you blush slightly. He records his finger playing with your wet lips, teasing you and hearing you whimper softly. “Please…” You whimper, breathing labored. Then suddenly he stops and you know what that means, it means he would continue if you called him..."Daddy. Please, daddy..." You add and that makes him smile, murmuring a "good girl" while pushing your panties to the side, revealing your slippery folds.

"Open your legs wider." He commands in a husky tone, his finger tracing circles around your sensitive flesh, making you moan softly. "What a horny slut..." Eddie teases your clit, making your hips shake as he takes another hit of the joint. "I'm going to fuck you deep, baby. So deep..." Eddie's voice grows husky, his cock poking your pussy from behind, teasing you. "Ready?" Eddie asks, his dick pressing harder against your wet entrance.

"Yes, daddy." You say with a trembling voice, unable to take the delay any longer. But Eddie has some fun, pointing the video camera at the hard cock at the entrance to your wet pussy, the pink head of his cock rubbing teasingly against your wet folds, threatening to penetrate, but only penetrating the head of the penis and pulling away to rub the tip on your sensitive clit.

"Eddieeee..." You whimper, already starting to feel your eyes watering from wanting his hard cock filling you so much. Eddie smiles and gently probes your tight opening with his swollen head cock, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped in your heat. "You're so tight, slut." He murmurs against your ear, pushing deeper, filling you slowly.

“This pussy is going to take all of me…” Eddie moans in the back of his throat, sinking completely inside you, your bodies connected in a way that was intended to be filmed. "They're going to love this, baby..." His fingers curl around your hips, holding you firmly as he begins to pump his cock in and out of you, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the room , captured on camera. Eddie leans over you, his bare chest against your back, the camera suddenly thrust in front of your face. He was recording your face as he fucks you hard.

"Tell 'em, tell 'em you're my slut..." Eddie's breath is hot against your ear, his body tense as he fucks you harder, looking down and growling as he enjoys the sight of his disappearing cock inside your tight pussy. "I-I'm your slut, daddy.." You say, voice shaky and drunk with pleasure and his big cock fucking you.

"Cum for me... Cum while they watch us fuck..." His voice is rough, full of desire as you moan, your body shaking beneath him, close to your climax.

Eddie grunts, his cock throbbing as you squirt around his cock until it leaks out of your pussy, a wave of pleasure rushing through him. “Fuck, baby…” He gasps, his release imminent. He pulls you close, burying his cock deep inside you as he unloads inside you, the sight of your cum-filled pussy caught on camera making your climax even more intense.

"Perfect, slut. Just perfect..." Your breath hitches as he slowly pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices. Eddie smirks at you, rubbing his cum covered cock against your sensitive flesh, enjoying the way you shudder beneath him. "For my horny slut, here you go." He grinds his hips against you, recording with the video camera and flooding your pussy with his hot cum, making you whimper even louder as you grip the couch, your body shaking with pleasure. "That's it, slut. Take Daddy's cum..." Eddie's voice is full of satisfaction, his gaze fixed on the sight of your cum-filled pussy before he pulls away gently, collapsing against your back, panting.

His chest rises and falls against you, his arms wrapped around you as you bask in the glow, completely exhausted. Eddie then turns the camera to focus on his sweaty face and his face, sweaty and flushed with pleasure. He gets up and hits your ass hard, making you jump and moan. Then he smiles, giving the video a thumbs up.

"Use a condom, kids." He says, ironically and playfully.

"You are so stupid." You say breathlessly, playfully rolling his eyes.

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sagigirlie · 11 months

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Astro observations pt.6

Venus-Jupiter Can be pretty Lucky, attracts wealth, positive and socially magnetic, usually well liked, charismatic. can be promiscuous as they like to try and experience and love to be loved, good sense of humor, adventures, loves food and the good things in life. can be addicted/obsess or overdo things that make them feel good like food, sex, shopping, partying and drinking/ doing drugs.

Venus-Neptune- very dreamy . Likely to have a crush on tv/movie characters. Very giving in love. Be Careful not to be taken advantage of bc of that.

Virgo placements- super professionals. Great workers. Good work ethic. workaholics. Somehow always gives fox-like look or the ones to look like an animal the most for some reason haha

It’s true, cancer placements (especially sun moon & ascendant) in girls gives round big boobs lol. I noticed cancer sun/moon/rising females also tend to have skinnier (& sometimes longer) legs & wider stomach with big boobs and roundish face or fuller cheeks. *(note: I’ve noticed if cancer females don’t have beautiful round boobs they’ll have very small boobs. No in-between- no shade here though haha)

Cancer placements in men are usually tender, cute & sweet and have a vulnerability about them that provokes the mom instincts in female lmao. Might want u to mommy them. But don’t get them mad cause they might not be as innocent as they may look. Likes more feminine girls in looks & behavior. Also they’ll usually be good at handling ur emotions and make u feel accepted & understood. Might like more emotionally complexed partners. Can be attracted to deepness & vulnerability as well.

Aquarius sun man and capricorn sun females will likely attract each other but not workout in the long haul. Marriage will be harder to manage for these two for some reason from what I’ve seen. I think it’s cause Aquarius are more flighty and living in their own world and fantasies, they might even be delusional at times as their more idealistic and are not the most manly as the Capricorn female looks for a more hard working grounded stable and realistic man for most.

Virgo females can be serous bullies & mean girls when they want. There. I said it. (Although they might look innocent).

Leo-cancer influence in a chart can make you want lots of attention and especially emotional attention & they are the more likely to use manipulation and deceit to get what they want. Leo-libra are more likely to want physical attention (also about their looks). they’ll do it mostly by trying to look fire lol.

Aries moon females are psychotic u can’t tell me otherwise lol. Talked about it before but they can be very very selfish, jealous and paranoid and/or self absorbed. Seen it time after time. Can have a very bad tamper and be rude and impulsive when upset or when something doesn’t go the way they want. Can be bossy & demanding. Can literally black out when mad. They can’t control it.

Pisces females might have a thing with girls tryna steal their man ? Not sure but seen it a few times. Or they’ll try to steal your man. Especially Pisces & Aries influence in a chart together. They can be attracted to unavailable or taken man. Seen it happen a lot. Careful cause some of them won’t stop at a red light. They can go after your man still. Maybe it’s hot to them ? Or makes them feel better about themselves especially with the competitive Aries influence and the unavailability that Pisces can be attracted to.

Aquarius mars can really be attracted (sexually or not) to individualism and uniqueness in people. More than looks that’s what will drive them to u. Just watched drake say that and he’s an Aqua mars (like me). The more real and different u are the better (but not too crazy lol). You need to pop outta the crowd for them to notice u more. They can like cool calm & collected people that have a cynical/clever or different sense of humor. The ones that won’t necessarily try to shine (unlike Leo’s- the opposite of aqua). Maybe even the more loner type vibes. Sexy mysterious guy/girl in the corner that sticks out without trying. They themselves can be that person too haha. love funny & intelligent people that can hold a conversation.

I feel like Aquarius & scorpio in a chart can give vampire vibes to a person (maybe looks or energy). Also they might like all that vampire shit like twilight or vampire diaries haha (me lmao). (Also Ian somerholder has that combo)

Capricorn venus can be very insecure. They need to learn to love and accept themselves truly. Stop self-sabotaging urself and/or ur relationships.

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merakiui · 5 days

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angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else.

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to.

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today?

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches.

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain.

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that?

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead.

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head.

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake.

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot.

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time.

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me.

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you.

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep.

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching.

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts.

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will).

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.”

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic.

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #yandere azul x reader #tw: noncon touching #tw: noncon #tw: chikan #n/sfw #tw: stalking

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ohmytyong · 9 months

Text

mark me in your heart

PAIRING: drug dealer!mark x bartender!reader (female!reader)

GENRE: angst, smut, kinda friends with benefits au, bartender!renjun, best friend!renjun, action au, open-ended narrative

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, explicit description of drug use (don't do drugs kids), use of pet names, trust issues, explicit language, mentions of food, smoking, emotionally unavailable characters, both mark and y/n are kind of assholes, explicit sexual content, angry make-up sex, rough-ish sex, unprotected sex (!always use protection!), heavy make out, choking, lip biting, nipple play, pussy slapping, spitting, oral (both m and f receiving), degradation, praise, spanking, crying, hair pulling, incredibly cringey dirty talking, aftercare (?), not proofread (let me know if i missed any!)

WC: 13k (12,975)

‣[PLAYLIST]: 505 by arctic monkeys, bad omens by 5 seconds of summer, slow down by chase atlantic, why do you only call me when you’re high? by arctic monkeys, a little death by the neighborhood, okay by chase atlantic

SUMMARY: when a sensitive and broken heart meets another one of the same nature, their instinctive reaction is to seek comfort in each other, and in order to heal themselves, they both need to be equally strong and willing to put all their broken pieces back together. but sometimes, some hearts aren’t strong enough to be saved; the only way to save them is if the stronger heart of the two is willing to take the risk and try for the both of them, whatever it takes.

A/N: it's finally here! it took me too long to finish this one but here it is! i know it might seem a bit fast paced or vague in certain parts, but remember this is all about the vibes and i deeply hope that you will enjoy it and give it some love because it definitely needs it <3

read on wattpad / ao3

“Hey Renjun, pass me that glass” you said as you wiped the thick tall glass completely dry before you put it back on the shelf behind you. You were moving mechanically at this point, the exhaustion of the long night at the bar taking over your entire body. It was 5 in the morning and you had just barely managed to kick out some of the remaining drunk nobodies who were so wasted, that their toxic-infused brains couldn’t even give them the signals to move their own bodies.

Working at the bar wasn’t your dream job but it’s not as if you had a better choice. It was either a bartender or a stripper. Both of them sounded equally bad, so you decided to opt for the slightly better one. If you could even say it like that.

It wasn’t a particularly ideal job but it was enough to get you by. It earned you enough money to buy you food and pay the rent at the motel you were staying at, it got you as many free drinks as you needed to help your mind escape from all your worries and you also got to meet some relatively cool people, so that was somewhat good. The working hours weren’t such a big of an issue either, you couldn’t really sleep anyway. So you were fine with it.

Most nights, the bar usually closed at around 3 am. There wasn’t a set rule on this; it usually depended on how many customers there were and how much they were drinking. Your boss had suggested that you shouldn’t keep the bar open all night long, so you kinda decided that it was best to close a few hours after midnight. You weren’t complaining about this though; the sooner it closed, the more time you’d have to get high with your co-worker Renjun at the alleyway behind the bar.

Unfortunately, tonight luck wasn’t on your side, as a group of friends kept on drinking more and more as the hours passed by, which meant that you and Renjun had to keep the bar open until later. You weren’t opposed to this idea, it only meant that you would earn a little bit more money. It was Renjun who started complaining, so he decided to take action into his own hands and practically dragged the drunks out of the bar.

This is how you ended up cleaning up the place this late, rather this early in the morning, with your co-worker. The two of you were too tired to speak, so neither of you made any efforts to spark up a conversation. You both just attended to your respective tasks, waiting for a specific somebody to show up.

Luck surely wasn’t on your side tonight. He would usually show up at around 3:30 am, right after the bar closed, and he would have all the stuff ready, just at the exact moment you needed it. Why was he late today?

It didn’t take a genius to understand that Renjun was clearly affected by the lack of the stuff. He moved around the place nervously, tugging at his hair and stomping his foot rhythmically. He was in a desperate need of it, and you would honestly lie to yourself if you said you didn’t need it half as much as Renjun did.

You put the last clean glass on the shelf behind you and went over to the storage room to grab a broom, so that you could clean the floor a bit while Renjun was still wiping the bar counters. As soon as you closed the door of the storage room, the little bell that hung above the bar’s front door rang with a tinkle and soon after it followed the sound of the so familiar footsteps you were waiting for all night.

“Hey kids, Santa’s here,” his voice resonated in the empty room as he waved a small transparent plastic bag that looked white because of its content. Renjun threw the handkerchief he was holding to the other side of the counter and dramatically jumped over it to go and hug the male who just entered. All of that just at the sight of the clear plastic bag with the snowy content.

“Mark, what took you so long my guy, I’m literally a dead man walking! Give this beauty to me,” Renjun exclaimed and snatched the plastic bag straight out of Mark’s hand. Mark smirked at what Renjun said and immediately started grinning at the sight of the boy’s eagerness.

Renjun went to sit on the bar stool closer to him and placed the bag on top of the counter he had just wiped clean. With slender fingers, he opened the plastic bag and dredged some of the content on the counter. With nervousness in his movements, he set the bag aside and shuffled through his back pocket to find his ID card. He started scattering the white dust all over the counter before he gathered all of it in a straight line with the help of his ID card. When he was satisfied with the result, he put his ID card back into his pocket, lowered his head to the level that his nose touched the cold surface of the counter, took a deep breath and snorted the entire line of crack, the product going straight up into his nostrils.

Renjun blinked several times before he slowly lifted his head. He scrunched his nose and wiped it with the back of his hand, his drowsy eyes looking surprisingly bright considering his state. “Man, whoever hasn’t done crack, never, they haven’t known the beauty of life yet” he chuckled. Mark smirked at Renjun’s comment and you couldn’t help but shake your head amusingly, a small smile creeping up at your face.

Renjun took the plastic bag with the rest of the cocaine and put it in his pocket. “This baby’s for me, thank you,” he amused and turned his heel towards the storage room. “Don’t come look for me, I’ll be right here. If I take too long to come out, then you should be concerned,” he said and closed the storage room door behind him; a scene that was surprisingly quite familiar to you.

You then set the broom down and walked towards Mark. “Hey” you whispered and Mark greeted you back in a low husky voice. “What took you so long? We were expecting you to come earlier” you asked him.

Mark shrugged and leaned his elbow against the counter. “I came by at our usual meeting hour and saw that you guys were still open. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me so I decided to drop by later,” he said and you nodded in understanding.

“You do have more of those plastic bags on you, don’t you?” you asked him and he chuckled. “Of course I do, pretty. Let’s go outside and treat ourselves a bit, shall we?” he suggested and you nodded again, walking beside him towards the alleyway behind the bar.

The sky was painted in a deep hue of light blue, the moon and the stars still visible in the early morning sky, the sun barely seen in the horizon. You huffed in a sharp breath and put both your hands inside the pockets of your jeans as a reaction to the crispy air of the early morning, as you leaned your back on the damp wall behind you. Mark followed right after you and did the same. He shuffled into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a clear plastic bag full of crack, two crack pipes and a lighter. With almost automatic motions, he filled the pipes with crack and lit them up. He handed you one of them and kept one for himself.

You looked at the crack pipe as if it were an oasis in the middle of an infinite desert and you were so thirsty that your dried up mouth and throat were already relieved just by the sight of it. It only took you one second to react to the visual stimuli in front of you, quickly removing your right hand from your pocket and pulling the pipe straight from Mark’s hand. You brought the pipe to your lips, closed your eyes and took a long, slow drag. This was exactly what you needed.

You immediately felt your body relax and your mind clearing up. The moment you took the drag in, all your worries and problems completely vanished, even if it were only temporary. It was your brief sweet escape from the huge bitter world you were forced to live in.

A chilly breeze flew and you lifted your shoulders at the shivering sensation. Mark noticed immediately and he pulled you closer to him, removed one of the sleeves of his jacket and draped it over your shoulder, slinging his arm over it too.

"So," Mark spoke up, breaking the easing silence, "how was work today?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Eh, like usual. Bunch of random people came in to drink their problems away and give us their money in exchange for adulterated alcohol. But Renjun had to drag some of them out of the bar, he literally grabbed them by their collar and feet and dragged them out of the store, you should have seen it. It was way too funny" you said and chuckled at the memory of the incident that happened a couple hours ago.

Mark giggled at your statement. "Damn," he dragged out the word, "too bad I missed that" he said and brought the crack pipe to his lips and squinted his eyes in pleasure and relief when he inhaled the poisonous content.

The next few minutes remained silent. There was only the sound of cars passing by being heard in the distance, it was probably people going to their early shifts at work. Normal types of work. Unlike the one you had, unlike the fate you brought upon yourself. That’s when the realization of your situation hit you like a truck. How could your family cut you off so easily when they found out that your dreams were different from what they were expecting of you? Were you just a tool for them? Another burden to take care of?

"You seem unhappy" Mark broke the silence. He was looking straight ahead in the distance, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, probably because he was a bit too high to notice anything.

"Because I am" you responded to his comment, turning your head to look at him, searching for a sense of home into his soulless eyes.

Mark smirked and turned his attention to his heels. "You know, I wanna help. Right? You know that" he said with a raspy voice due to his sleeplessness. "But I don't think that feeding you drugs is any help" he now turned his head to look you in the eyes.

You pressed your lips into a thin line before you spoke. "I ask for the drugs Mark, you're not feeding me anything. It's my only escape, what else am I supposed to do?"

"I love you, Y/n" Mark said.

You winced at his confession and turned your head to avoid his gaze and fixating yours on the wide sky ahead of you.

"You're high, Mark. Cut the crap" you said in a bitter tone.

"Do you think I'm lying? I mean it, Y/n. I fucking love you, for whatever reason I do. And I care about you, so come with me and let's get out of this shitty town. I’m running out of time too, they’ll soon find where I live" Mark defended himself.

You turned again to meet his eyes. "And go where, Mark? Where the fuck should we go, huh? I don't have anything else to do other than this shitty job. I only keep it because I need the money to survive and it's the only way to keep myself sane. The people I used to call family kicked me out of my house and this was the easiest solution I could come up with before I would collapse entirely and before it would become too difficult to get back on my own feet. So what else is left for me to do?" you were clearly getting angrier now, but not at Mark. At yourself.

Mark's eyes darkened in sadness. "That's what I'm saying! You deserve better than this! Look, we have enough money. I do deals, but I know this is a job I can't have forever. I told you, I’m on thin ice. If I’m seen doing deals again, I’ll go to jail. You know I play the guitar, right? I can join a band or something. I know a friend downtown, he might be of help" he said.

"And you," he continued, "you're a great bartender. You could make a career out of it" he said.

You shut your eyelids and shook your head in denial. "It won't work out. I'm a mess, you're a mess. We can't make this work. It's impossible" you said, turning your head away.

Mark sat up straight and put his hand below your chin to turn your attention towards him. "Look at me, Y/n. We can make it work. Believe me. Trust me. I can't leave you living like this. And I certainly can't live a life like this myself. You're the only person I can make a change with. I need you" he said.

You gulped and stared right into his eyes, unable to form a response. "So you just need me as a means to get you out of town and help you start your magical new life. No thanks, Mark, I'll pass" you said and shoved his hand away to release his grip on you.

Mark became frustrated and moved to stand right in front of you. The half of his jacket that was wrapped around your shoulders dropped and it hung behind his back.

"Okay, look Y/n, you're tired and you're high. We'll have this conversation again in the morning" Mark said defeated.

Your energy was running low despite the boost of energy you had just inhaled, so you let yourself loose. "Let's get you back to your room. You need some rest. Come on, I'll drop you off" Mark suggested and you gave in to him completely.

You took a step towards him and stumbled a bit. Mark, with his rapid reflexes, caught you firmly by the forearm and guided you to his car. The last thing you remembered was the faint sound of the car door closing, before you were engulfed into pretty sleep.

The next day you woke up to the sound of light guitar strumming from across the dim lit motel room. It was already past noon; the curtains were still drawn closed but the midday sun rays found their way in between the curtain folds and peaked through the dirty motel room windows to light up the inside of the place.

Mark was sitting on a wooden chair across the bed with a concentrated look on his face. With his jaw clenched and his cheekbones popping, he strum his fingers through the guitar strings, playing random chords in an attempt to create a melody he liked.

You shuffled between the bedsheets and stretched your body all over the old bed. A squeaky sound echoed in the room due to your sudden movement, which caught Mark’s attention. His strumming stopped abruptly and his head jolted up in surprise, his eyes opened wide and his lips dropped to a pout.

“Did I wake you up? Shit, I’m sorry” he whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible.

You rubbed your eyes to clear your vision and looked at him. “No, you didn’t. I like what you’re playing. Sounds pretty” you reassured him. “Good morning, Mark”

His previously guilty expression was taken over by a wide grin appearing on his face, which turned into a bright smile. “Good morning, pretty,” he said.

You smiled at him and he went back on strumming random chords on his guitar. His eyebrows scrunched in concentration and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his messy hair and wrinkly t-shirt due to the, apparently, good quality sleep he just had. Your obsessive thoughts took over once again and didn’t let you enjoy this glimpse of happiness in the abyss of misery you were engulfed in. Your lips gradually dropped to a frown and your vision became blurry again.

Mark wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. He came into your life at the perfect moment, when you needed him the most. It was your first day at the bar, your first time as a bartender. Renjun had been training you all day, teaching you the basic parts of the job and giving you tips on how to handle weird or creepy customers. You were completely drained out that day, so your co-worker and soon-to-be best friend had promised you a pleasant surprise by the end of your shift.

Renjun’s definition of a “pleasant surprise” was slightly different from yours. That night, Mark walked into the empty bar with steps full of confidence. You didn’t know him back then, but from the very first second you saw his figure enter your life, there was only one word that kept circulating your mind; trouble.

Mark was trouble. With his sharp gaze and well-defined features, captivating aura and assertive moves, it was more than obvious that this guy would mean nothing but trouble to you. For some inexplicable reason, this was exactly why you were instantly attracted to him.

Mark came in carrying all the usual stuff Renjun wanted and gave them over to him without talking much. The two guys seemed to share a lot of past memories together, and you were right. Renjun had filled you in later that night on his relationship with Mark and how they helped each other stand back up on their own feet after they were forced to leave home. A story very familiar to you.

Mark came by the bar every single night. He didn’t give Renjun drugs every time, but he sure enjoyed both your and Renjun’s company. It’s not as if he had anywhere else to go.

That’s how you grew quite fond of him very easily. You found yourself looking forward to the end of your shift just so you could see him. He once offered you drugs but immediately took back his offer when he saw your shocked expression. You were at the lowest point in your life and doing drugs wouldn’t be the wisest habit to take up, even though this was, at the same time, the exact reason why you should do drugs. Eventually, reality hit you and you caved in, waiting for Mark to come at the end of your shift for one more reason other than just seeing him. He was reluctant at first. Mark didn’t want to drag you into this lifestyle, so you annoyed him and begged for it until he finally gave you the lethal medicine.

You and Mark were surprisingly very similar. Maybe that’s why you bonded so fast with each other. And maybe that’s exactly why you were equally bad for each other. You could see so much of yourself in him, just at a more put-together version. Sure, he was a drug dealer, which was certainly not a better job than yours, but he at least seemed to have a purpose in his life. Unlike you.

As time passed, you started spending more and more time with him. You would smoke crack, get high, talk endlessly until your mouths dried up, go back to your motel room, have sex with each other, and repeat. You found comfort in his presence and became attached to him without even noticing.

But you didn’t love him. No, you couldn’t call this love. Rather, you were depending on him, no matter how much you hated that. He acted as an emotional support beacon to you, you enjoyed his company and, if you were honest, you genuinely liked him. But it was hard for you to admit to any deeper feelings, so you repeatedly tried to convince yourself that you didn’t love him, so that it wouldn’t hurt as much if he ever decided to switch on you. You hoped it wouldn’t turn out like that.

You lightly shook your head to get rid of all these thoughts and got out of bed to wash up a bit. “I’m starving, I’ll go down to the diner to grab some breakfast, do you want anything?” you asked Mark as you were heading towards the humid bathroom.

“Let’s go eat there. Together” Mark suggested and you stopped at your steps.

He always avoided going out in places that were too public because he was at risk of being outed as a dealer. Especially now that he was caught selling drugs once and the guy who saw him threatened to report Mark to the police.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re on thin ice, you said that yourself” you raised the tone of your voice and walked towards him.

Mark put down his guitar to focus on you. “You worry too much Y/n, like, what are the odds? We’re in the middle of nowhere, I doubt anyone knows this place apart from us and the customers of your bar. I think we’ll be fine,” he cleared his throat, “I mean, I’ll be fine. Relax, I wanna spend some time with you.”

You decided against protesting and trusted Mark’s certainty of his words. Besides, he was right. The diner was out of town, it wasn’t very popular among people who weren’t familiar with the bar. Most customers at the diner were either drunk people from the bar or passersby. So you simply just nodded and whispered a soft “okay” before you went inside the bathroom, the door emitting a creaking sound as you closed it shut behind you.

The screeching sound of the fork scratching the surface of the porcelain plate turned your facial expression into a wince, which went completely unnoticed by Mark whose attention was entirely devoted to the pancakes in front of him.

The old diner was relatively empty despite it being lunch time. Other than you and Mark, there was only a group of friends and a guy sitting on a barstool. You were actually very satisfied with the quietness of the place, which was only disrupted by sounds of forks scraping plates and glasses thudding on the tables.

The diner was situated right down the same road your motel was at, so anytime your stomach growled in annoyance you would stop by and fulfill its needs. You were practically a regular customer now and probably the one who kept the place from going bankrupt. It was old, cheap and dirty; the perfect place for you.

Mark gulped down the last bite of his pancakes and thirstily drank the entire glass of water. He then set the glass down and leaned back on the booth, fixating his gaze on you.

You noticed his eager eyes on you and you set down your fork, mimicking his stance and staring right back at him, waiting for him to speak.

"That was a pretty good meal" Mark sighed and you smiled a bit. This wasn't what he wanted to say.

Since Mark seemed to be unwilling to speak his mind, you decided to take matters into your own hands instead.

"Why did you want to have lunch with me?" you asked him with your voice calm and your eyes searching for an answer in his.

Mark crossed his arms and scrunched up his nose before he answered your question. "’Cause I wanted to spend time with you. Actual time. You know, like normal people?" he said.

You rolled your eyes at his response and mimicked his body language once again, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't buy it, Mark" you said.

Mark sat up straight and leaned closer to the table, resting his elbows on top of it. "Why are you always like this, Y/n? Whenever I tell you something, you never believe me! What's up with you?" Mark's frustration started building up in his attempt to defend himself.

"It's not that I don't believe you-"

"It's that you don't trust me" Mark interrupted you and you stood there with your mouth still open. You didn't know what to say.

Mark's gaze was piercing, his sharp eyes were darker than usual and his lips quivered at the blank stare you were giving him. "You don't trust me," he concluded.

The truth is that you weren't sure if you trusted him or not. You wanted to trust him and he had proved to you numerous times that he was someone who cared and didn't lie. Yet sometimes, you were afraid that if you trusted him too much, he would end up hurting you. So every time he said something you weren't expecting him to say, you immediately assumed that he was lying.

"Mark, listen to me," you started to say and Mark sat back against the booth, rolling his eyes. "I-I do trust you, it's just that-"

"What? You think I don't mean what I say? If I didn't meant what I fucking said then I wouldn't fucking say it! When I say I care about you, Y/n, I fucking mean it. When I say I fucking love y-"

"Don't get mad" you were the one that interrupted him now. Mark was clearly way too frustrated by you now, his voice was getting gradually louder, his eyes were full of fire and his nostrils were fuming.

At the sudden raise of Mark’s voice, the guy who was sitting at the barstool turned to look at your booth with a brief glance and then returned back to eating his food.

"Mark, just let it go, please" your voice came out almost like a whisper. You hated when Mark became angry at you and you hated it even more when he did it in public, even though it was practically just you and him in that diner.

Mark's jaw visibly relaxed and he lowered his eyes to his lap, nodding to himself. He lifted his head to look back at you with pleading eyes, much in contrast with his previous fiery gaze.

"Then why don't you come with me? Out of this fucking town? You deserve to live a better life than this. We deserve it. Look, I know I don't have an exact plan on how we'll do it, but I know that we can figure it out together. Please, Y/n" he said, taking your hand in his from across the table, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

You lowered your eyes at the spot your hands were joined together. Did you really love Mark? No, actually, did you really trust him enough to depend your entire life on him?

You couldn't give him an answer at that moment. Not a yes, not a no. Not even I don't know. Forget that, it would complicate things even more.

Mark noticed that you weren't going to give him an answer to his question soon, so he let go of your hand and started putting on his jacket. He reached into the inside pocket and took out some cash. He slammed it on the table and got up from the booth ready to leave.

"I have to go to work now, alright? I've arranged some deals. I'll come back later at the bar tonight. If you ever decide what you want to do with me, you know where to find me" he said and without even turning to look at him, you heard the sound of his footsteps grow fainter as he walked out the diner.

The bar was relatively full tonight. From behind the counter, you could spot only two empty tables. That was the fullest the bar has been in the last month. At the far back of the bar, you spotted Renjun already counting the tips he had earned and it was still midnight.

All the customers were busy chatting and enjoying their drinks. You found yourself craving some alcohol too, the need for an intoxicant substance was growing stronger and stronger, so you decided to mix just a little bit of something to treat yourself.

As you were filling in your glass, Renjun walked behind the counter and leaned close to your ear to speak, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to hear him through the loud chatting of the customers. “Man, I think we are in heaven, I lost count of my tips and I’m not even high yet” he said and you giggled at him.

He noticed the bottle of vodka you were holding and nudged you on your forearm. “Hey, pour me some of that too” he asked and your response was to grab a glass from the shelf behind the counter and fill it with the toxic liquid.

You had barely stopped filling in the glass when Renjun grabbed it and downed the liquid in an instant. He placed the glass on top of the counter with a thud and licked his lips, savoring the bitter taste. “What’s up with you and Mark?” Renjun asked you. You contemplated whether you should answer him or pretend you didn’t hear him just to buy you some time. A good couple of seconds passed so you just caved in and answered him.

“I don’t know. Go and ask him.” you said in a tone filled with nonchalance, sipping on your drink.

Renjun rested his elbows on the counter, his eyes scanning the place around him. “He said the exact same fucking thing when I asked him about you. You can’t be running in a vicious circle all the time. Just fuck it out, you’re both acting like little kids” he said and you sighed at his scolding tone.

Renjun wasn’t just your co-worker, he had also grown to become your best friend, a person you could talk to freely without fear of judgment because he always understood your intentions. Engulfed in your misery and loneliness, he was the person who helped you get back on your feet and have hope that things will somehow get slightly better. That sounds like something a friend would do.

You brought the glass to your lips to drink the last sip of vodka that was still inside, leaving it empty waiting to be filled with more of that toxic liquid. “You wanna know what, Renjun? Even though I hate the life I’ve made for myself, I enjoy having Mark in it. But I can’t do what he asks me to do. I can’t depend my entire life on him. I can count on him for some of it, yes, but starting anew with him? I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m not the kind of person you want to start a life with. I will fuck everything up. And he shouldn’t count on me as much as he does. It’s for the better. For both of us.”

Renjun kept staring at you, waiting for your little rant to be over so that he could take his turn to speak. He gulped and looked at your burnt out figure. Your eyeballs were turning a bit crimson due to the line of cocaine you snorted earlier, even though you promised you’d wait until Mark came later, and the lack of sleep provided you with dark hues under your eyes and skin as pale as the moon.

“Look, Y/n,” Renjun started and came a bit closer to you so that he wouldn’t have to strain his vocal chords in order to be heard, “I see your point. And I understand exactly what you mean because I felt the same way when I came here. But in my case, I had nobody to lean on. I became an addict, left home and the rest of the story is familiar to you. But you and Mark have each other and, trust me, your future is looking way brighter than mine.”

You looked into his eyes searching for honesty. Renjun has always been honest with you and you never doubted any of his words. He really cared about you. Mark too, as it seemed. And he was right. Living in a cheap motel, starving and working long hours to barely make ends meet, depending on drugs and more specifically on an exceptionally lovely drug dealer wasn’t the life you imagined to have. But fate had different plans for you and now you ended up here, whatever this here is supposed to be.

Mark didn’t seem to be ill-intentioned. From the very first moment you met him, he was protective and caring, he had always treated you nice. He spoke to you softly and touched you in a just as smooth way. But the life he was living wasn’t that much better than yours; in fact, you could say it was even worse. He depended on you as much as you depended on him.

You didn’t know what was the thing that made you keep a sort of distance from him. Emotional distance. Part of it might be because you weren’t available to be fully devoted to him, because of fear that one day he would leave you, just like everyone else did. Part of it might be because the two of you weren’t so different and two broken souls mending together doesn’t necessarily make a fully healed one.

“I’ll talk to him when I’m ready. I could do it later but I’m afraid I’ll be too high to think rationally. Or maybe this will give me more insight, I don’t know, I’ve never thought of it. Do you think clearer when you’re high?” you asked Renjun but he was preoccupied, looking at the screen of his phone which radiated such brightness his eyes squinted as a reflex.

Scanning his features more carefully, you realized that the reason for his scrunched expression wasn’t lying solely on the brightness of the screen. You took half a step closer to him and Renjun tilted his phone away from you, hiding the screen from your eyesight.

“What’s wrong, Renjun?” you asked with worry lacing the tone of your voice. Renjun shook his head and put his phone away in his back pocket. “Mark won’t be coming by later. Something came up, I’m afraid we’re in trouble too. Listen, can you handle the bar for a couple hours by yourself? Mark needs some help” Renjun said, searching for his jacket underneath the counter.

Your eyes widened at Renjun’s words and you felt your heartbeat racing and your fingertips trembling. “Is Mark okay? Tell me, is he okay?” your rising voice quivered, betraying the nervousness you felt.

Renjun squeezed your shoulder and pressed his lips together in an attempt of a reassuring smile. “Yes, he is alright. He’s fine. He just needs some help with the cops. If you see anyone suspicious showing up, flash the stashes down the toilet, we don’t want them finding anything. I’ll be back soon.”

With swift movements, Renjun turned his heel to walk out the bar in a hurry, muttering something under his breath that, due to your shocked and nervous state, you failed to hear, “How am I gonna save your ass this time, Mark?”

As soon as you heard the bell on top of the bar’s front door tinkle, you knew that Renjun was already outside and you were left alone in the bar. You were left standing frozen behind the counter, staring into nothingness. Your vision became blurry due to the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes, your hands curled into fists and your nails were digging deep into your palms, cold sweat forming at the sides of your forehead.

You were terrified. Mark was already caught selling drugs very recently, so your mind went to the worst case scenario which made you extremely terrified; that Mark was caught selling drugs by the police.

You dreaded this moment at the exact same time your eyes met Mark’s sharp ones. You knew that, once you became thick as thieves with a drug dealer, you would be in for a lot of trouble.

But you also knew how careful Mark was and this gave you hope that, whatever the case is right now, he would find a way to get himself out of there. Mark was a smart guy. You wanted to trust him, you wanted to believe that he would be smart enough not to get himself in trouble.

Yet something didn’t add up. Mark has been doing these types of deals for a long time now, he knew all the tricks of the job and he knew very well how to protect himself. So it sounded almost impossible that he would do something so reckless and irresponsible to get him caught.

There was only one possible and logical answer to all of your questions. That somebody ratted him out.

Your train of thought was disrupted by the husky voice of a man. “Excuse me, miss, would you mind pouring me a drink?”

Your head snapped at the sudden sound of a voice other than the one inside your head. Your eyes met with a man sitting on a barstool at the other side of the counter, looking at you with wary eyes. Your gaze was roaming all over his figure when your eyes halted for a second as soon as they spotted something shiny at the right side of the man’s chest; a badge.

You cleared your throat to cover up the anxiety and fear that started to appear in your voice. “Officer! What can I get you?” you greeted him with bright eyes and a cheerful voice that masked your intense heartbeat and the trembling state of your hands behind the counter.

“Actually, I don’t want a drink,” he started and moved his hand inside his jacket to pull out a file with pictures and papers, “but I do want you to help me with something. Have you ever seen this guy?” he asked you, placing the file on the counter and turning it to your side.

You gulped at the sight in the front of you and your eyes quivered from side to side. A mugshot of the face you grew to almost love was staring back at you. Sharp gaze and popping cheekbones, defined jawline and dark eyes were presented in front of you and you knew more than well enough who the person in the picture was.

Your heart sank at the sight of Mark’s mugshot and you knew what you had to do. You drew in your eyebrows together and lifted the picture with your hand in order to bring it closer to your eyes and examine it better. “I don’t think I recognize this man, officer” you said.

You set the picture down on top of the counter and looked at the police officer, not trying to avoid eye contact. You wanted to seem as less guilty as possible.

The police officer took the picture and put it back inside the file. “Really? That’s a shame. But I’ve been informed that you do know this guy because you were seen with him this morning.”

You froze immediately. Your brain tried to put all the pieces of the puzzle together, you tried to digest and connect everything the cop just said in order to form your answer.

“Are you sure about this, officer? A lot of other girls look like me, maybe it was a mistake?” you asked with a rising intonation in an attempt to defend yourself by adding another lie to your previous one.

You tried to remember where you could be possibly seen with Mark, especially during the day. You always met with him at night and you avoided seeing each other in the morning. There was no way anyone saw you with Mark.

The moment you had this thought, the answer to your question suddenly popped up in your head as if a lit up light bulb. That morning, you and Mark had breakfast down at the diner. And you specifically remember that suspicious guy who kept staring at the two of you.

That’s when you knew you had to do something drastic to get you out of this situation, and you had to do it relatively fast.

The police officer didn’t seem to buy the lie you had just uttered and continued to pressure you more. “Is this where you keep all the drinks? Can I take a look inside your storage room?”

The rhythm of your heartbeat kept increasing more and more by each word the police officer said and you were running out of lies and excuses.

“Sure, it’s this way officer” you said with a nonchalant tone, gesturing towards the door behind the counter.

The cop stood up and turned his heel to walk behind the counter and towards the storage room door. Your trembling hands had barely managed to hide the stashes you kept behind the cash register under your oversized shirt, and you followed the cop inside the storage room with uncertain steps.

The police officer could not find the rest of the stashes. It shouldn’t happen, and you had to act smart in order to prevent it. “Can I help you with something, officer? We can’t stay in here for too long, my co-worker finished early and we’re not allowed to leave the bar without having anyone to tend to the customers” you said in an attempt to speed up the process and get rid of him before he could find anything that could put you in jail.

“You can go back to your work, miss. This is my job here, you can go and do yours” the cop said as he had already taken a bottle of vodka in his hand to examine it for anything suspicious.

“Okay, I just wanted to help. Call me if you need anything,” your answer was convincing enough for him, but it wasn’t good enough for you to buy you more time.

You left the storage room and stood right outside the door, leaving it so open as to let you peek through it so that you were able to see what the police officer was doing.

With your still trembling fingers, you took out your phone from your pocket and dialed Renjun’s number with quick movements. Without taking your eyes away from the cop, you kept tapping your foot waiting for Renjun to pick up his phone.

The constant beeping sound in your ear signaled that Renjun wasn’t going to respond soon, so you put your phone back in your pocket and tried to think of what to do.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you muttered under your breath, running your fingers through your hair. Your eyes were wavering from the police officer to the customers in the bar and then back to the police officer. You had to do something to get everyone out of there.

Your eyes followed the cop’s figure and certainly didn’t like what you were seeing. The cop squatted down so that he could reach the boxes under the shelves and stretched his arm to pull out one of them.

“No, no, no, fuck” you whispered. Those are the boxes in which you hid the drugs.

You turned your head to look at the inside of the bar. It was fully packed. There was not any chair or barstool that was empty and, just at that moment, the door opened to reveal a group of friends who wanted to get drunk and have fun just like the rest of the people inside the bar.

The only person who wasn’t having any fun right now was you. And obviously Mark and Renjun as well, who you had no idea about their whereabouts or their well-being. On any random night, all these people in the bar would equal a pretty satisfactory amount of tips that would make your life slightly easier to get by. However, you could definitely not say that for this particular night, when your main priority was your and your friends’ safety.

Shifting your gaze from the customers to the police officer and back to your phone for any missed calls or unread messages from either Renjun or Mark, you were completely on your own on this one. Cold sweat engulfed your entire body as the seconds passed and the cop was one step closer to finding the thing that could turn your entire life upside down.

You swallowed thickly and looked at your phone one last time. No sign of anybody.

“Okay, I got this” you muttered to yourself and walked behind the counter where you usually stood. A middle-aged woman was sitting on one of the barstools, smoking and sipping lightly from the cocktail you mixed for her earlier. You picked up the first bottle of alcohol you saw on the counter - you didn’t have the time to care what it was - and walked towards her.

“Excuse me, miss, would you like a refill?” you asked politely to gain her attention. Before she even opened her mouth to speak, your actions were faster than her words. You quickly snatched the cigarette from her hand and put it out on the counter, immediately pouring some alcohol right on that spot.

Soon enough, flames started building up and the counter caught on fire. The smell of smoke became suffocating and it was hard to breathe in such a small space full of people. Your plan worked.

Muttering a string of “sorrys” to the woman, you turned around to pull the fire alarm. Every customer turned their heads to the direction of the piercing sound full of worry. “Everyone must get out, the building is on fire!” you yelled as loudly as you could, motioning everyone out the door.

Very quickly, you managed to evacuate the building by leading all the panicked customers outside the bat through the front door. In the midst of all this chaos, you noticed with the corner of your eye the police officer you rushed out of the storage room without looking any scared at all.

You ushered the last customers outside as the fire grew bigger, eventually leaving you and the cop as the only ones inside the flaming place. As he passed by you to get out the bar, he leaned closer to your face and whispered. "That was smart, young lady," he said and walked outside towards his car.

So he knew, you thought. He knew all along about the drug deals happening in this place and mainly the drug possession. He almost tricked you into thinking you tricked him. How amateurish of you.

You walked out the bar and shut the door behind you, watching the police officer drive away. A sigh of temporary relief escaped your lips and you pulled out your phone to dial a phone number you weren't particularly happy to call. Waiting for a few seconds, you heard the dreadful voice on the other line. "Hey boss, um, is it easy for you to come down to the bar? We kinda have a small problem" you said with a rapidly beating heart.

The time was already 3:16. You were pacing around your motel room, patiently waiting for any news about Mark. You had already called and texted him multiple times, but all of your efforts to reach him went in vain.

A few minutes after you called your boss, she arrived at the bar, totally shocked and deeply saddened upon seeing her not-so-small business all up in flames. You explained to her what happened, shaping the story so as not to sound guilty, and luckily she didn't blame you for anything.

After the firefighters arrived, your boss encouraged you to go home, saying that you already went through a lot for the night, so you needed to get some rest.

So now you were back to your motel room, unable to get some rest because you were still scared about yourself and your previous interaction with that police officer. But most importantly, you were anxious about Mark.

You were terrified for him. And your fear only increased because you couldn’t do anything to help him or save him. You realized that you depended on him twice as much as he depended on you and that made you feel useless in situations like this. Knowing that Renjun was - probably - with him eased your nerves a bit, but, at the same time, knowing that you didn’t do anything to help him made you feel selfish and hopeless.

Everything you did tonight was to save no one else but yourself. The entire night, you kept worrying about yourself and how you could avoid going to jail when during those very same moments in time you had no idea how Mark was or what he was going through.

Mark wasn’t the helpless one in this situation; it was you.

As you picked up your phone to call Renjun again, a loud thumping noise on the door startled you. Your body jolted up upon hearing the sudden sound and you walked nervously towards the door to look outside through the peephole.

Your eyes widened in shock and surprise at the sight of the face that was constantly on your mind. You didn’t waste any time opening the door and pulling the boy you were aching to see all night long inside the motel room, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

You rested your head in the crook of Mark’s neck and he reacted to your touch in an instant, stretching his arms to the small of your back to hug you as tightly as he physically could.

Tears fell from the corners of your eyes and you pulled back just as much as you needed in order to look into Mark’s exhausted eyes without breaking the embrace. “You can’t imagine how scared I was,” you whispered.

Mark stared deeply into your watery eyes. He moved his hands to cup both of your cheeks and nodded his head when he processed what you just said. “I know, I was terrified too. Renjun came to help me but we kinda fucked it up" he said with a stinging tone in his voice.

“What happened?” you asked and Mark let go of you and walked towards the bed in the middle of the room, sitting on the edge of it. You copied his movements and sat down right next to him, turning your head to his side as you waited for him to fill you in on what you had missed.

“That bastard ratted me out. That asshole from the diner. I had a deal with some teenagers and he called the cops on me. I don’t even know how he tracked me down.” Mark confessed looking straight, his eyes full of void, focusing on nothing in particular.

“Anyway, they took me to the police station and started questioning me about all this bullshit. There was no way I could excuse myself, they literally busted me, they saw me doing the deals. I texted Renjun and, I don’t know what he said to them but it didn't go well," he stopped to take a deep breath despite the desert that formed inside his mouth and the waterfalls that were forming in the corners of his eyes, "so we basically ran away and sooner or later the police will find me. I had nowhere else to go and I knew that your place would be relatively safe." Mark finished reciting you the events of the last few hours, tears staining his cheeks like the raindrops of a drizzle.

The dried tears that stained your cheeks became wet again when the new set of them fell down your face. You were staring at Mark through your teary gaze, trying to find any emotion in his void expression. He had never looked so soulless and it terrified you even more.

But the truth is that Mark himself was trying to mask his fear and anxiety by not showing them. The tears that traveled from his bambi eyes down to his popping cheekbones felt empty and the sight of him in such a state brought a stinging pain to your heart.

“So w-what does that mean?” your voice trembled at each word you uttered as you faced Mark with nothing but fear and another emotion that, at that moment, resembled love.

Mark made an attempt to wipe most of the tears off his face with the palms of his hands so that he could face you with clear vision. “It means I might go to jail. I will go to jail, unless I get out of here” he said. “Fuck, those bastards gave me an excuse to leave this fucking place” Mark scoffed as he sat up from the bed and started roaming around the narrow room, hands resting on his waist.

Your eyes trailed on every single one of his moves. You blinked several times to prevent any more tears from falling and cleared your throat to avoid your hoarse trembling voice. “So you’re really leaving” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Mark.

Mark turned around to look at you. “Yeah, I am. First thing in the morning. I don’t have many things to pack so it won’t take me long. And I can help you pack your things too, it will be quicker if-”

“Who said I’m coming with you?” you interrupted Mark and you immediately regretted doing so once you met his fuming gaze, which was now completely taken over by anger but was previously filled with nothing but emptiness.

“Y/n, we agreed to this. You’re coming with me and that’s it.” Mark growled as he took a step closer to you.

You stood up and started walking nervously around the place you called home, running your fingers through your hair in an attempt to ease your nerves. “We never agreed to anything. I told you I can’t-”

“Bullshit, that’s what you told me. Everything you said is bullshit. I want nothing but the best for you, we’ve been meaning to do this for such a long time and now that we have every reason to leave, you don’t want to! What’s wrong with you Y/n?” Mark clapped back at you.

A tear dropped down to your feet as you looked at Mark’s reddening face. Your lips trembled in your attempt to voice out your feelings, unfamiliar to your vulnerable state. “I’m scared, Mark,” you paused to sniff your nose, “I’m so fucking scared. For you, for me, for everything.”

Mark’s features softened at your sudden confession. He remained silent, gesturing to you to move on.

It was hard and unusual for you to open up to him like this. You hated the fact that he made you weak, that he had such a strong effect on you to make you eventually do as he says. But there was always this evil little voice in your head that told you not to trust him because, in the end, he would act just like everyone else and leave you.

“Do you know how scared I was tonight? I almost risked my fucking life for you! I had no idea where you were, I didn’t know what happened or why, and you know why? Because you never tell me anything! You only care about yourself,” all your fears and anxieties exploded and the outburst was so big you didn’t know how to stop. And you couldn’t stop even when you took a glimpse of Mark’s furrowed eyebrows and frowned lips, which you couldn’t tell if they were the result of sadness or anger.

You didn’t want to hurt him. But at this state, you couldn’t remain silent anymore. It wasn’t Mark’s fault, but you had reached a point where you couldn’t bottle up anything you felt anymore, so he just had to take everything you said.

You took a deep breath before you licked your dry lips to speak again in a calmer but still bitter tone. “If only you would disappear from my life I would-”

You never completed your sentence because Mark dashed towards you and grabbed you by the neck, squeezing the sides just so, so you could breathe a little bit, his face only a couple inches away from yours. “Shut the fuck up” Mark spat out with a growl which immediately kept you quiet.

His blackened eyes were piercing right through you, his fully black pupils bore into your wavering ones. You stood frozen there, completely locked in your place under Mark’s forceful hold on you, a position which made your lower stomach twitch.

Neither of you spoke for a few seconds. Mark’s face was painted in crimson, his eyebrows fully drawn in together and his nostrils flaring out, as he tried to keep his breathing steady. His angry state scared you even more; not because he would hurt you, but because he could hurt himself. Behind the mask of the angry man he presented himself as, you were the only one who could see the sad little boy who wanted nothing else from you but to love and trust him.

With Mark’s hand still pressing on your neck, your voice barely came out when you tried to speak. “Mark please, say someth-”

Mark interrupted you once again by smashing his lips on yours with the same force he held you under him and the same desperation he hid behind his bloody gaze. You didn’t waste a second, responding in an instant to him, moving your lips to the pace and rhythm he settled. You slightly parted your lips to allow him access to deepen it even more, as he slid his tongue in your mouth to dance with yours.

His presence and strong grip was too much to endure, so you stretched your arms to grab his hair. Mark sensed your need for more support, so he lessened the pressure on your neck and moved his free arm to the small of your back.

The previously quiet room was filled with the lewd sounds of your lips and tongues and the soft grunts and whimpers that left your lips in between each violent connection between them. You hadn’t realized how much you needed Mark, how much you had missed his touch and his burning essence on you until this very moment. Your body reacted to him almost immediately, as you felt your blood flow from your heart down to your aching core.

The heated argument from earlier was now completely forgotten and transformed into a passionate battlefield between two broken souls. Mark's crack infused breath, the bitter taste of alcohol on his dry lips and the lust overtaking his brain and controlling his actions electrified your entire body. There was not a single part of you that didn't want Mark, that didn't desire him and you couldn't help but want more of him.

Your brain, too foggy from the bold emotions and the alcohol you had consumed earlier, couldn't work properly, so your primal instincts took over you entirely. You kept kissing Mark while biting on his lower lip, which resulted in low whines coming out of him, his hardening length growing more inside the pressure of his pants.

You could sense him struggling to keep his cool and you were trying to give yourself some friction too by rubbing your thighs together. You reached your hand down to Mark's pants, cupping his dick outside the thick fabric of his jeans, the teasing action causing him to roll back his eyes.

Mark stopped kissing you abruptly and without wasting any time, he threw you on the bed with all his strength, watching you with hungry eyes. You plopped down on the bed, the sheets creasing at the sudden force and you looked at him with a lustfull gaze that invited him in.

"Wanna fuck you so dumb right now" Mark growled lowly as he took off his shirt from the back of his neck in a swift motion and continued to unbuckle his belt, his eyes never leaving your pleading ones.

You followed along, removing your own shirt and shorts, lying in bed only in your underwear. Mark had now discarded himself completely off of all his clothes except from his boxers, which had an undeniably visible precum stain on them.

Mark's body hovered above yours, connecting his lips with yours for a brief moment before he pulled back to attack your neck, biting and nipping on the spot right under your ear, which earned a loud gasp from you.

His lips kept on abusing your neck area, as you locked your fingers in his hair, tugging and pulling at it with every bite on your neck and chest. The hot sensation of his lips, tongue and wet saliva all over your body made you whimper under him, a sound that made his cock twitch inside his underwear.

Mark traveled lower down to your chest. He slipped his hand behind your back to undo your bra, removing the bra straps off your shoulders eagerly and tossing the piece of clothing somewhere in the dirty motel room. He was quick to attack your hard nipples, dropping his head to suck on one of them, and reaching the other one with his hand, twisting and rubbing it between his fingers.

Your moans and whimpers echoed in the room, the sound and smell of your bodily fluids polluted the small space, everything about the inside of the place being purely filthy.

The heat in your body kept rising and you could feel the stickiness in your panties. You wanted Mark, all of him. You wanted him to treat you however he wanted to, you wanted to please him by giving him all of you and you wanted to feel desired by him.

"Please Mark," you breathed in a soft moan, "please fuck me" your face reddened in your pathetic confession, but it didn't seem to stop Mark from ripping your panties apart, leaving your dripping cunt exposed to the dirty cold air of the room.

Your drowsy eyes and rapid breathing fueled Mark and all his inner needs, as he lifted his body off yours and parted your legs with his hands, pushing your thighs apart. You were breathing heavily in anticipation of his next move, which was a sharp slap to your pussy that sent a strong bolt of pleasure through your whole body. You moaned in pleasure and surprise and Mark repeated his action at the sound of your whiny moans.

"You're a pathetic little slut after all, aren't you?" Mark lowered his head and spat on your pussy, which had you clenching around nothing. "Look at you, begging to be fucked" he brushed one finger up and down your clit, just enough to tease you and elicit a sharp intake of breath from you. "You really pissed me off, you know?" he muttered.

"Please Mark, I want you. I need you so bad, please fuck me" you whined with a high-pitched voice, the one you knew that Mark could never resist, as you pouted your lips at him.

Mark rested his hands on your knees, holding your legs as far apart as possible, so as to have full access to your glistening cunt. His dark eyes were filled with nothing but hunger and lust, unable to control himself any longer from how bad he wanted to taste you. He lowered his head even further, brushing his lips over your clit.

"As you wish, princess" he mumbled to your wet core before he attacked your swollen bud, licking and sucking on your clit with absolutely no remorse.

A loud moan escaped from your lips at the abrupt touch of Mark's wet tongue on your pussy, your hands intertwining in his hair, grabbing and pulling at every licking stripe Mark left on you.

He kept on licking and sucking on your clit, mumbling sweet nothings and small praises, which reminded you more of the Mark you knew rather than the cold and hungry man that was presented in front of you a few minutes ago.

The lewd sounds of Mark's lips and tongue on your pussy mixed with your whiny moans turned him on to the fullest, as he pulled one of his hands away from your knee and dropped it down to slowly pump his dick underneath his underwear.

The burning desire rising up in his body was becoming too much for him, so he pulled away from your clit with one last sucking pop and took off his underwear, setting free his painfully hard length.

Mark positioned himself between your legs and with a swift motion, he turned you over to your stomach, pulling you by your hips so that your ass was higher up towards him.

"Need to fuck you so bad" Mark growled as he smacked your ass cheek with a sharp slap, your pussy clenching at the burning sensation.

"Please, Mark" you whined in the pillow, a tear rolling down your face and landing on the sheets as a response to the overstimulation taking over your body.

The way you kept whining his name and the juices almost dripping down your thighs had Mark gritting his teeth. He gave himself a few more light strokes as he positioned his dick right at your entrance. Without giving you any warning, he dived into your pussy with a sharp stroke.

You shut your eyes in pleasure and gripped the sheets tightly until your knuckles went white as Mark pounded into with sharp rhythmic strokes, each one pushing your head further into the pillow.

Your moans were coming out as crying mumbles as your face was buried deep in the sheets. Mark kept his pace and force, his head lolling back at the intensity of the moment. He kept his one hand on your hip in order to keep you steady while, with the other one, he reached down to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging at it and pulling it roughly, an action that triggered your hot tears to spill from your eyes at the pure sense of pleasure.

Mark's breathing was heavy and sharp at the sound of your soft growns and the sight of your ass jiggling at each stroke he left. "Is this what you wanted, pretty? Me fucking you so good you end up a crying fucking mess?" Mark provoked you in a voice as deep as the ocean, his groans low and hot like the pits of hell.

The sound of skin slapping on skin echoed inside the four walls of your motel room. Mark's hips connected with your ass in an intense force and a static speed, as he hit the spot that always brought you closer to the edge.

"I-I'm close, Mark, p-please" you whined as he gradually took you closer to your limits, your lower stomach twitching in pleasure and your jaw going slack as you felt your climax rising more and more.

"Let this pretty pussy cum on my dick, come on baby" Mark growled and with that, you let out a high-pitched groan into the pillow as your pussy clenched around Mark's dick, the forceful grip of your hands on the sheets was slowly loosened.

You felt Mark's strokes become sloppier as you coated his length with your warm fluids. He quickly pulled out and turned you over so your back was touching the soft mattress. He moved his body closer to you, pumping his dick slowly as he brought the tip to your lips, brushing softly against them as an invitation to take in his dripping cock.

"Open up for me, pretty" his fully blackened eyes bore into your teary ones. You slowly opened your mouth and Mark quickly pushed his cock into it, moving his hips as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking on his veiny length.

"That's right, baby. Such a good girl" Mark whimpered as he slowly released into your mouth, his hot cum dripping down your throat. You swallowed all of it completely before he pulled out and laid down on the bed next to you, both of your heavy panting echoing in the now quiet room.

Mark took a few seconds to ease his breathing and turned to the nightstand above his head to search for the pack of cigarettes you kept hidden in the small drawer. He took one cigarette out of the box and brought it to his lips. With the lighter you kept inside that very same drawer, he lit it up, smoke immediately coming out of it. The room now smelled like a mix of sex and smoke, and you winced at the odd yet satisfying combination. Mark took a long drag out of the cigarette and then puffed the smoke into the filthy air.

As soon as you caught your breath, you turned your body towards Mark's, looping your arm around his waist and resting your head on his chest. Mark responded to your intimate touch, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders, stroking your hair lightly. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and then brought the cigarette again to his lips.

After the long and terrifying day you had, you finally felt at ease. Your heart was beating normally, your breathing was steady and your mind was blank. All you could do was savor this moment with Mark, wrapped around his arms and listening to his beating heart, a sound that promised you that everything would be alright.

"Please don't leave me, Mark. I wouldn't know what to do without you" you whispered to him as you slowly drifted away to deep sleep. Mark didn't say anything back. He kissed your forehead again instead and inhaled deeply, exhaling in a long sigh, as his eyes were fixed outside the window, looking over at the bright city lights.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of chirping birds outside your window. From the way the room was illuminated and from the shadows that formed behind every object, you could tell that it was only a few minutes after sunrise, and the bright orange sun confirmed your speculation.

With your eyes still half-open, you stretched your arms above your head and groaned, a soft yawn leaving your pouty lips. You then shifted between the sheets, turning your body to the other side of the bed, moving your arms around in search of the drug dealer’s toned body, the one that hugged you tight to sleep.

“Good morning, Markie” you mumbled, still half asleep. You rested your head on the pillow, still patting the mattress when you couldn’t sense the male beside you. Your eyes widened in an instant and your body quickly adjusted to the awake state. You were focused on the other side of the bed, where the boy you spent the previous night with would be lying sound asleep. Instead, you were met with nothing but tangled bedsheets.

“Mark?” you called again, in hopes that maybe he was in the bathroom and he couldn’t hear you. No response.

You yanked the sheets off you and rushed to the bathroom, opening the squeaky door with more force than you intended. “Mark?” you called, but the calling was in vain.

Maybe he went down to the diner to get us breakfast, you thought. It was still very early in the morning, but the diner never closed during the night, so there might be some leftovers or, if you were lucky, some fresh food at this hour.

So you decided to wait for him, thinking that his whereabouts were probably the old diner. Since you were now fully awake, you decided to take a shower and change into some fresh clothes. It will only be a few minutes, Mark will probably be back by the time I’m finished, you thought.

So you hopped into the shower, letting the warm water fall down your tense shoulders in order to ease your nerves and help your body physically relax. Your mind brought up the memories of the previous night you spent with Mark. You thought about the cop that came to the bar, you thought about the fact that Mark was in serious danger, you thought about your argument with him and how you made up afterwards by having steamy sex, just like every other time.

You didn’t know how to label your relationship with Mark, or whatever you had with him. He was more than a friend but less than a lover. He protected you, cared for you, helped you with any troubles you had and was always there for you, whatever it took for him. And what did you do for him in return? Nothing.

You did absolutely nothing, at least nothing that could compare to what he did for you. And you hated yourself for not being able to pull him out of his misery, even for the slightest bit, when he could even go as far as to move mountains just to see you crack a smile.

You didn’t deserve him; yet you were too selfish to let him go. He was a soul that wanted to fly and be free, but his wings were weighed down by your annoying fears and anxieties for the unknown.

The water dripping down your body suddenly turned cold and you immediately turned off the faucet and ran out of the shower, wiping your body dry with a towel. There was still no sight of Mark, so you quickly put on some fresh clothes and searched throughout the room in order to find your phone and call him.

Your eyes scanned every corner of the room where you could have possibly left your phone, when your gaze dropped to the wooden chair across the bed, the one where Mark usually sat when he played the guitar, only to find a folded piece of paper.

You stepped closer to the chair, picking up the piece of paper and turning it around. With shaky hands, you slowly unfolded it and a shiny bright red guitar pick fell on the floor. You picked it up, bringing it closer to your eye only to recognize it as one of Mark’s favorite ones.

You held the pick between your fingers and sat down at the wooden chair, looking at the wrinkly piece of paper. Written with a dark pencil, you recognized the sloppy handwriting and the small neat letters as none other than Mark’s and you couldn't help but feel your eyes sting in threatening tears as you slowly read and processed each heartfelt word he wrote:

Dear Y/n,

You’re probably reading this because you can’t see me in your room. But don’t bother look, because I have already left for a better, safer life and I won’t be coming back.

So here’s everything I couldn’t bring myself to say last night.

I love you deeply, Y/n. And I know your feelings towards me differ from my feelings towards you, but I’m not scared to hide it. You’re afraid of the power your heart holds and I understand that. For that, I will give you time, as much as you need to learn how to use this power.

I don’t know if I am a strong man or a coward for leaving; that I’m not sure of. But what I’m sure of is my life, and right now my life is in danger. I always spoke to you about how I wanted to have a normal life, to escape from this hell hole and build a different path for me.

Most importantly, I wanted to build this path with you. You’re the only thing that made this hell hole bearable, the only thing that gave me purpose, the thing that made my life have a meaning.

But I took some time to think and I realized that I can’t force you to follow the same path as me, no matter how much I need you or how much I want only what’s best for you.

So I left. I left to build this new path and I will try as hard as I can. I don’t care if I fail, because I know I can keep on trying and, no matter where you are, just the thought of you gives me strength.

I’m leaving you a piece of me behind though. My favorite guitar pick. I want you to have it. You can keep it, burn it, destroy it, I don’t care what you’ll do with it. I just want you to have something to remember me, something that means to me as much as you do.

So, for the meantime, mark me in your heart like I have marked you in mine, and think about what makes you truly happy. If you ever change your mind, you already know where to find me.

Your beloved,

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