#there’s more neat rows of teeth inside | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rinbowaman · 9 months

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Whoo hoo lets goooo!

Warnings: stalking, breaking entry, kidnapping, mentions of murder and torture, bullying, harassment, tormenting, indications/implications of rape, detaining, cursing, subtle groping, main character touches themself....i think that's it. let me know if i missed something.

T̞͍̼ͤ͝H̼͍̻ͤ̑͒͌̕ͅE̛͖̼ͫ ̧̝̞̪̯͙̄̈́̆O̩̻̟̥ͯ́͘T͉͕̫̪̬̺̯̽̊̈́̀H̵̥̥̙͔͍̥̳̼̓ͬE̡̞̝̰̒̑͌̎R͈͈̻͈͋̃̕ͅṢ͎̟͓͈̱̖̰͋͠I͉̪̪ͬͧ͜D̥̩̩̼̪͓̗̦ͦ͡Ě̶̟͔̗͆͌

.............

“Yeah, I’ll get a large Americano.”

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the name for the order?”

“Heeseung.”

Unfamiliar with the cultural sense behind his name, the barista displayed a slight look of confusion, while blushing at how handsome he looked as he swiped his card. “He-…..Hee….how do you spell it?” she asks.

“Here.” Taking the cup and the marker out of her hands, all in a rather sudden manner and startling the poor girl, Heeseung took the cap off with his teeth, gently gripping it in place between the two rows of his pearly whites as he drafted his own name on the transparent cup, before issuing it back to the barista. Taking it gently, she blushes even more than before as she looks up and notices that the cap was still in the grip of his teeth, yet his eyes were fiercely wide and somewhat eerie. She became speechless and merely nodded.

“I…um…..we’ll have that ready for you shortly.”

Opening his eyes wider for just a second, he turns his face to the side and spits the cap out harshly as it lands out on the floor. “Great.” He scoffs as he walks over to the side and leans back against the wall of the waiting area.

Standing with his arms crossed, he stretches his neck out as he gleams down from beneath his black baseball cap. With a white tee and a pair of straight jeans, the man’s frame could be made out just slightly as his muscle definition peered through the material of his shirt, yet it was loose enough to remain subtle in its display of his body. He was tall and looked incredibly intimidating. With only the hue of purple in his hair, peeking out from below his baseball cap, no one else dared to look long enough at the man’s face, for the moment he tilted his head back and showed off his shiny beaded eyes, there was an instant chill issued along with his frightening glare.

(Pls ignore the mic. This picture was too fitting bc…well…arms. That’s why.)

“Stop it, please!”

Turning his head over, he witnesses a pair of brute college boys, along with a woman who seemed to be of the same age, all harshly grabbing and pushing a frail girl inside the café.

“Please I told you….I don’t have money.”

“Bullshit.” The female spatted. “Now, you know our favorite drinks, so get in line and get us our drinks.”

“But…I’m not lying. I hadn’t gotten paid yet, and you took the last of my money…..please. I’ll buy you lunch and coffee as soon as I get paid.”

“Noooo…you can order the drinks, and if you’re really broke then you can stall up the line and maybe make a scene, to distract everyone, so we can go to the counter and take the mobile orders waiting for pickup.”

“Please don’t….I can’t……”

Grabbing the girl by her arm, the much dominant female drags her inside the ladies restroom. The two brutes make their way over to a seated area as they wait.

A few moments went by, and the pair emerged out, only this time, Heeseung noted a change in the submissive female’s hair.

With the short and neat bob cut that she had adorned, with her bangs trimmed right above her brow, he gained a vantage point of the view firsthand, all thanks to his height. There, the poor girl stood with the very top of her head displaying a most unflattering hair style. The top layer of her hair nearly all gone, burnt off, with only an inch length that spiked right up towards the ceiling from lacking length and flexibility.

Flickering a lighter repeatedly and blowing over the top of it, the dominant woman slyly walks over to meet with her two friends, smirking as she takes pride in her work. Heeseung continued to watch, and glared as the three sat at the table, all watching the poor girl as she stood with that atrocious look. With tears streaming down her face, she merely took in her breaths as she stood, trying to gain composure and abide by the trio's demand.

He hated those types of people……the weak…the ones that allowed themselves to be pushed around, never doing anything to strengthen themselves. How annoying. The only thing he hated more than those types, were the spoiled, the sullied, the rich and the greedy, the ones that looked down on the weak and the useless and abused their families influence.....like the three at the table. In fact, he hated them so much......he enjoyed using his toys on them whenever he found himself triggered.

Grabbing his phone, he initiates a conversation with someone…..

Inserting the phone back in his pocket, he turns back to look at the victim, who remained standing a few feet away from the entrance, quietly and faintly sobbing.

“For crying out loud…just get out. The door is like…right there, girl.”

Mentally irked at how the girl remained frozen still, he drafted up the energy to set aside his annoyance and was prepared to confront her on his own and force her to leave, saving her the harassment by the ruffians who clearly made a habit of tormenting her. When all of a sudden…..

"Welcome to *name of your favorite cafe*." the baristas all greet as the young woman enters through the door.

Walking in to the setting, you donned a pair of black leggings with a black low crop, long sleeve to top to match, along with a green baseball cap that kept all your hair bundled up. Entering, you noted the frail stature of the girl before you, yet it hadn’t been apparent that she was upset until you went to walk pass, trying to make your way in the line. Once you were side by side with the younger and much shorter girl, you glanced over and paused in your steps, noting the streams down her cheeks. Taking a closer look, you saw the terrible cut she had on the top of her head, as if her locks were mauled off by an animal. As you observed the top of her head, you smelled the faint scent of burnt hair around her presence.

Overhearing the impudent laughter coming from a table that was across the other side of the café, you looked back at the girl and grew heavy lidded at the sight, unaware that your actions were being watched the entire time, as you had caught the eye of a very intrigued male standing off to the side, a few feet up ahead.

He observed quietly, watching as walked up with grace in every foot step. Your figure was so delicate and divine in the tight athletic wear you donned on, yet your face and hair remained hidden much like his, due to your hat. Yet the moment he saw you look down at the sobbing girl, his eyes widened, and his mouth slightly gasped open at the sight that took place when you reached up and gently took off your cap.

Your long hair falls gracefully and dresses the curves and shape of your breasts, your face was both foreign and enchanting, you were the most amazing thing he's ever seen. You gazed at the line up ahead, not even noticing the tall handsome stranger that was gawking at you off to the side; the moment he had cleared vision of your eyes, he was done, he was sold. He was beyond intrigued. He didn’t know what was happening, but there was something growing inside him that never was there, it was a sensation that instilled a craving in his gut.....he wanted to see more.

Despite all the pretty’s he’s had, where so many women who threw themselves at his feet, none have ever caused this stir of echoing emotions that was eating him alive. Each girl he's ever had, all desperate for just an ounce of his attention, would get but one night of pleasure, and experience the cruelty of his selfish nature as he never bothered to call or message any of them back. To him, they were just pretty little things for him to use, nothing more. He never once developed anything beyond the requirements of his sexual and physical needs, and yet here you are....defying the laws of his physics and mentality……so different….so very different.

You took your cap and gently placed it on the girls head, never minding what she may have felt about in concerns to hygiene, yet it would seem that the abhorred haircut was something that took precedence over the matter of feelings, so you went ahead and gently placed it on top of her head and watched as she turned to look up at you, taking in the soft smile you issued back at her.

With a grateful countenance, the girl began to cry once more as she felt overwhelmed by your kind gesture, in which you nodded softly.

“Care to have coffee with me?” You asked the girl.

Nodding rather enthusiastically, she poked her tiny hands through the overbearingly long sleeves of her oversized cardigan sweater dress and reached for your arm. You took her in and wrapped your arm around her shoulder as you held onto your phone and wallet in the other. Walking up to the line side by side, you issued a stern look over to the ruffians that preserved the table, noting the look of irritation in their faces. Despite their abhorrence of the matter, they remained distant and eventually found that you weren’t going to leave the girl’s side, and end up taking their leave.

“Do you need me to walk you home? Bus station? Or maybe to the train?” you asked.

The girl sipped on her coffee drink and began to converse with you, all the while as you two remained seated. Not once did you notice a pair of eyes had remained glued to you, along with an infatuated smirk.

After waiting at the bus station for the girl’s ride to arrive, you bid her farewell and best of luck before heading home, never knowing of the tall, dark and handsome man that inconspicuously followed you.

He remained distant and unnoticed but kept traces on you as you took your turns, crossed streets, and even went into a boutique for just a moment to pick up some hosiery for the young girl. As it turns out, during your conversation with her, you found out that she was attending the same college you had graduated from a few years ago, recalling as she told you that she had just started her first year. The idea of a first-year student being bullied broke your heart, so you figured it would be nice to get her a small gift and stop over at the college to pay her a visit, and check up on her.

“She says she likes to wear skirts and dresses a lot, so maybe I’ll get her some assorted stockings. That might cheer her up, oh and another hat, just until her hair grows back.”

Thinking of the girl, you grabbed and paid for the items, before heading back on route to your apartment. Entering the main lobby of the residential building, you stopped over where the mailboxes were located. Placing in your key, you opened the small latch door and reached into the small square opening in the wall that had displayed your apartment number, located on the tenth floor. Peering in as he enters the lobby, Heeseung places his phone next to his ear, giving off the image that he was engaged in a phone call, all the while he sets his sights on your mailbox from afar, never once breaking his gaze from it. It was hard, since he desperately wanted to continue to watch you, yet it was crucial for him to remain staring at your mailbox, just up until you closed and locked it, before making your way over to the elevators.

Maintaining the stare, he walks over to the corner, eyes never leaving the small square. As he breached closer, the placard could be made out at close sight, it contained your apartment number, your first and middle initial, followed by your last name.

1004 First initial. Middle initials. Last name.

Shifting his sights over to the elevators, he walks over and dings in for the next carriage to take him up to the tenth floor.

Arriving on the top level, he walks through the narrow corridor, one side of it displaying tall windows to view the neighboring buildings and open sky. Following the unit numbers of each door that was distanced out from each other rather sparingly, he reaches the end of the hall and there, the last unit remained, apartment number 1004.

Sensing that you were just beginning your day, given that the time was early in the morning, he walks up to your door and notes the structure and design. It was so simplistic and lacked any sense of safety protocol in its feature, how could someone as wondrous as you be so careless to live in a place without exaggerated safety measures?

……..

Within the hour, you showered, got dressed, and munched on an English muffin along with your morning cup of coffee before grabbing your phone and wallet, heading off to work. With your light raincoat swooped over your arm, you gracefully walked over and dinged in for an elevator to bring you down to the floor level, unaware of the male that was lurking from around the corner, waiting for you to leave your apartment.

He waited for a solid twenty minutes, to ensure that you weren’t going to come back in. After noting the time, he breaches your door once more and reaches up to the top to grab hold of a thin strip of aluminum that he had slid in previously, all while you had been in the shower. Sliding it all the way to the inner corner, he bent to hook it over the top ledge of the top of the frame, so that it would remain in place. Based off his experience, gathered from his years of stalking many victims in the past, he knew, that out of human nature, you would never look up and discover the tool as you locked your door. At the most, a person may set their gaze at eye level as they enter or exit, but statistic will show that hardly anyone will ever tilt their head and look up since their eyes naturally are drawn to the knob as they lock or unlock a door.

Unhooking the aluminum strip from the ledge, he slides the piece as it remains in between the door panel and the frame, sliding it all the way down to the locking mechanism above the knob. From there, a simple turn of his wrist and bending the strip at an angle was all it took for the bolt to click over to the opposite side, unlocking it.

Entering, he noted the smell of lavender and orchid blossoms that filled the air. It was so pleasant and airy, so very fragrant. It was as if he was basking in the foreign fields of orchids and lavender in full bloom. Noting your chic and girlish furnishings, he smirked as he walked past your media stand, admiring the soft beige sectional that adorned your living room. Looking over to the TV, he saw some framed photos of family and friends, some of which had contained you posing with them, in which he would pick up and take a closer look.

“Damn she’s gorgeous…..”

He remained quiet until he cleared the apartment of any other inhabitants; roommates or family that may have been living with you, yet much to his delight, there were none. He then took the opportunity to go inside your bedroom, where your bed was nicely made. Sitting on the edge of your queen size bed, he leans into one of the pillows and takes a whiff of the scent, it had smelled just like your hair. It was of roses and chamomile, something that he never knew he would appreciate so much until now.

Standing up, he walks over to your vanity and notes your perfume bottle on display. Taking it, he releases the cap, and sprays it over his wrist to analyze the ingredients that made up the fragrance. It was a subtle scent, yet fresh with a hint of spring florals and just a tinge of fruity sweetness to it. It was heaven to him. Looking around, he opens up a few of the top drawers and finds exactly what he was looking for, your lingerie.

Noting the amount of lace in your collection, he smirks.

“Huh…..she likes lace….my kinda girl.”

Scouting through, he really wasn’t trying to get a pair of your panties, although the temptation was strong. Instead, what he was looking for was something that wasn’t obviously an undergarment, but something that he could always carry around and pull out of his pocket with ease….something like….

“Hmm….this will work.”

Grabbing on to a pair of lace gloves, he takes the right one and drenches it with your perfume, airing it out as he waves it around for a moment before he shoves it in his back pocket. Closing your drawer delicately, he looks over towards your master closet, and takes a peek inside. He flips the light switch on and smiles at the beautiful display of dresses, both flirty and sophisticated, while also admiring the neat display of folded jeans and tee shirts in the open cabinets decorating the wall. It would so appear, that you had a taste of casual chic fashion, yet had invested in sophisticated and elegant attire for work.

Flipping through all the hangers, his fingertips drag against each fabric, allowing him to take in the sensation of what you wear daily. God…..he wondered how you would look wearing something with frills and lace, or cashmere, or this one, a dress made of satin. Your body was literally the peak of ideal femininity, there was no doubt in his mind that whatever it is you put on, you would look stunning in it.

Walking deeper inside the closet, he notes a framed piece that was set on top of the cabinets, leaned up against the wall instead of being hanged up. It was your college degree, from the same college he was attending.

“Wow….she’s older than I am?”

Despite being in his last year of college, Heeseung was intrigued and grew even more fascinated about you. The fact that you were older, though you looked of the same age as him, even younger in fact, was something that only made him grow more obsessed with wanting to see and learn more about you. He continued his exploration and looked for any indicators of a boyfriend, or perhaps a fiancé. To his surprise, there were none.

“Beautiful girl like her….single? That’s just…..that’s insane…but I’m not complaining.”

Aside from seeing no signs of a partner, he was also delighted to see that you didn’t seem to be actively engaged in sex either, there were no forms of birth control nor were there any prophylactics. To be sure, he searched….thoroughly.

“So she’s a good girl then? Or maybe….she’s one of those ball-busting career types? Either way, I dig it.”

The thought of you preserving your body, how tight your womanhood must be from being untouched for God only knows how long, it greatly.......stimulated him.

After he had his fill in exploring your apartment, he exits and discards the aluminum strip. Taking out your glove, he sniffs it before entering the elevator. From that day forth, Heeseung had eventually found out where you worked, where you did your grocery shopping and found out that the café was your favorite spot every morning after working out, precisely at around 7 am. In between his classes, he managed to go out to ‘check’ on you as you made your way around to various spots for lunch or maybe did some quick shopping and run errands. No matter what time of the day it was, he made sure to see you at least once, making sure you were okay, that you were happy and not in distressed.

“There you are baby…..you seem like you’re having a good day today.”

“Hmm….why do you look a bit ticked off? Who pissed you off today? Fuck I wish I knew….I’d make them regret it…….please smile…smile for me baby.”

“Awww….my girl likes pastries….what are those? Macaroons? You like macaroons baby girl?......When you’re mine, I’ll give you the world and whatever you want. How does that sound?”

With all his mental thoughts on you and the constant check-ups, he fell harder and harder, it was unreal to him. He wanted to know and see more….he wanted to hear more….he wanted more.

His approach was well thought out and planned. You didn’t have to know what he had done in the past…even though he hadn’t dipped into his habits since the day he saw you in the cafe, yet the fact remained that he had a closet full of skeletons that he wasn’t necessarily ashamed of, for all those times it brought him relief and was a reprieve for him. But he didn’t want to scare you…he didn’t want you to know about what he did for obvious reasons. All that mattered now was for you to get to know him….as the man who was falling in love with you, despite you being unaware of his existence.

After weeks of stalking and admiring you from a distance, he figured today would be perfect to put his acting skills to the test and “accidently” bump into you, all in the effort to start up a conversation. From there, he would use his charm and tenacity to get by and push through any barriers you would set up, all so he could get in and make you his. He had everything mapped out in a systematic approach…..but he never got the chance to put it to use.

Watching as you were grabbing coffee during your lunch hour at your favorite cafe, Heeseung remained in his car, ready to step out and put his plan to action, yet took a few minutes to enjoy himself as he nonchalantly rubbed his bulge. Staring at the way you moved, the way you smiled, laughed, walked and admired each building as you made your way inside the coffee shop, you looked far too wondrous for him to not touch himself. Gently rubbing his fingers up and down, he took a series of gulps as he became hot and bothered, faintly panting as he leaned into his seat and watched you delicately swing the door open and entered in the building.

“Oh God…..my fucking girl…just…..who are you?....What are you? Where do you come from? What place exists…that makes someone like you?”

Finding his breath stolen by just the sight of you, Heeseung's mind begins to drift off and he wondered how you must feel with him inside you. How your skin must feel pressed against his, and how you must taste like.

"I bet she tastes like candy.....fuck girl....the things you're doing to me....I just wanna...."

*Ding*

Suddenly, his eye catches on to something that snapped him out of his dazed state of passion. There was something.....someone that taking an interest....with you.

"Who the fuck.....?"

Straightening his posture, Heeseung became overly alert as he witnessed the man's head trailing right after you as you walked in, placing no situational awareness in his setting as he stared at you....hard. Nearby, was female who noted your stops and also followed you closely, while occasionally sending a nod to the large man that seemed to be craving you just as much as Heeseung was. It was evident by the way he stroked his chin and gasped his mouth open, while occasionally rubbing his crotch under the table nearby, licking his lips in the process.

"Mother fucker....."

Cursing himself, Heeseung quickly sends a new text to a friend, one who would be able to help him out in this situation. With his focus on the male perpetrator that was eyeing you down, Heeseung spared no effort in taking his sights off him, leaving the female open and unsighted......but not for long.

……..

Setting his gaze back at the man that eluded manners, ones that Heeseung could easily identify…..the behavior display of stalking and tracking, methods that he himself had used to follow you home the first day. However, unlike Heeseung, the large man was sloppy in his technique. He was following too close and wasn’t at all inconspicuous, instead, he was openly staring, walking behind in short distance, and made no effort to distract his intent by any means. It was as if the man was starving for you to the point where he couldn’t control himself. Had he been watching you the whole time? If so…..how did Heeseung not notice? Was he too enamored by you that he grew complacent of your surroundings?

He watched as you walked back into the building of your place of work. For hours, the man stood off into a nearby alley, lurking in the shadows, occasionally dipping into the cafe and sending out messages. No doubt the recipient was that female accomplice of his. Remaining in his car on the other side of the road across the building, Heeseung watched the man like a hawk, clenching his. If only the man wasn't in a public setting, Heeseung would have followed him back to his residence and took care of him before you would even leave work.

"Asshole......fucking leave her alone....I swear if you touch her...."

Widening his eyes and glaring at the man from afar, Heeseung bit down on his lip, puncturing skin.

Finally, after a long night and putting in some overtime, you walked out with your coat and purse in hand, obviously exhausted from the long day. The sun was beginning to set and the street was remote and nearly empty, with only a couple passing by making their way towards the opposite direction.

Walking on the lone street, with the darkness of the night casting in and the streetlights barely turning on, you minded your own when the sound of a female voice reaches out for you.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Turning around to face the female whose voice was in question; you barely got a response out when a sudden cast of solid darkness clouded your vision.

Eyes widening and his heart getting heavier by each second, Heeseung watched as the man cast an empty sandbag over your head and dragged you away to a nearby car. Muffling your screams and taking advantage of your blinded state, he overpowers your quick and panicked movements as you kicked, screamed, and reached above and over your head, banging his face with a closed fist. You put up a good fight, and for a moment, Heeseung watched and a spark of hope ignited in his heart as he jolted forward in his seat, watching as you laid a good solid hit right on the man's nose.

"Yes baby, just like that.....come on baby....hit him again!"

Yet in the end, the man was far too large and managed to restrain your wrist with a single hand as he fully detained you by injecting your neck with a drug that placed you into a deep state of unconsciousness. All the while, the female accomplice walks away with a smug flare.

"I'll fucking kill you.....both of you."

He could have confronted and taken you away right then and there, if only had it not been the presence of patrol units that came the very moment the kidnapper had tucked you into the backseat of his car, appearing harmless as he gets into the driver seat. With the female accomplice nearby til the very end, appearing to be armed with a hidden weapon in her coat pocket, Heeseung had no choice but to wait out for the perfect moment to strike. As much as he hated seeing you handled in such a way, he knew….that in just a little bit, not only would he take out the pent up anger and rage that formulated after witnessing the display of your kidnapping, but you’ll be able to see that it was him that saved you.

“Alright…fucking piece of shit. Let’s go.”

Trailing the man’s car, Heeseung follows and remained every so vigilant in being undetected.

Arriving at the final destination, Heeseung watches as the man’s car turns into a long and narrowed dirt path, straying off into a massive amount of acreage land. Following behind, Heeseung observed as the man parks in front of an old house, with a pair of windows set on ground level, indicating there was a basement. No doubt in Heeseung's mind, just from his own experience with murder and violence, he knew that the kidnapper would have a set up already stationed inside. Carefully observing as the man took your unconsciously limp body inside in such a haste manner, Heeseung felt his body fueling with chaos and a thirst for blood and torn limbs....he was triggered. His veins no longer pumped blood, it was gasoline....fuel.....fuel to burn the fire within his soul to do the very things onto others that not even the worst criminal could ever think of.

Watching the man's movements, Heeseung’s grip tightened over the steering wheel as he rested his chin in the other, a few seconds, he started to tap his fingers along the lining of the wheel before he got out of his car and walked over to his trunk. Opening it, he takes out a crowbar, one of the very many tools he carried…used for breaking entry or….to instill torturous pain on supple flesh. Walking up to the house, he remained stealth and continued to go unnoticed as he peeked in each window. Just as he suspected, while he investigated the basement, he watched as the man brought you in and tied you to a metal prep table, the same ones frequently used in cafeterias.

The moment the man left the room, Heeseung used the crowbar and pry’s one of the windows open, it was a smaller and slim, rectangular sized window, half the size of the standard measurements. Yet he effortlessly slid in, placing all those years of athletic training and dance practice to good use. Gently closing the window upon entry, he scouts the area, ensuring that it was still clear and no sound of movement could be heard on the other side of the door.

Setting his vision on you, he makes his way over to the table and there, for the first time, he got to admire you up close and personal. He got to feel your breathe brush against his nose as he leans in to take a closer look.

“Oh fuck……” he slightly gasped out. He couldn’t believe his eyes, you were far more enchanting up close, especially since he took note that you didn’t have a face plastered with makeup, you had been walking around this entire time with a fresh and youthful face. Leaning in, he gently nuzzles his nose against your ear, not at all concerned about the culprit that brought you to this horrid place, since Heeseung knew, he could take him with his bare hands alone. He could take on anyone if it meant keeping you safe.....and happy.

Shoving his nose in the nook of your neck, he takes a deep inhale of your scent. You smelled just like your perfume, the one he sprayed on your glove and took with him everywhere he went. Standing back and upright, he releases a deep breath as he gently caresses your face. A soft smile, faintly appears as he strokes your cheek, brushes your hair, and rubs your lips with his thumb.

"Just what am I going to do with you? Hmm?.....My beeeeautiful girl......my pretty pretty girl....my sweet girl. You just have a knack for catching stares.....even from bad guys like me and the idiot that brought you here.....don't you? ......Its not your fault though.....you were born so precious.....you don't deserve to be here....you deserved to be loved...to be taken care of....to be spoiled.....I'll show you what that's like after I take care of him, how does that sound?"

…….

Twenty or thirty minutes later, you finally woke up. In a panicked state, you looked around and saw that the room was coated with cement flooring, and was stark empty as it lacked any furnishings, aside from the metal table you were on, and a couple of tall metal tool cabinets. Your breathing was steady, you had done right to remain composed as you tried to figure your way out of this mess........but it all escalated the moment your kidnapper walked in.

Hiding behind one of the tall metal cabinets that was a few feet off to the side from the table, Heeseung listened in on everything the man said to you, which further heightened his rage.

“Go ahead you piece of shit….keep talking…keeeeeeep….fucking…talking.”

Noting your breathing increasing to a panicked state, he peeked over around the edge of the cabinet to look at you. The hopeless expression on our face combined with the deep heaves of your chest and your delicate beauty tainted by the fear of the man before you, it all had shattered Heeseung’s heart to pieces.

“I know baby…I know……don’t worry. I’m not going to let him do anything to you. Trust me....I know him better than he knows himself."

…..

“Oh….I love that look of fear in your face….its the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen…God…you’re perfect aren’t you? And…oh.....keep breathing like that….it makes your breasts look so nice as they rise up. I can't wait to add them to my collection, they'll be my number one."

Hearing the man speak to you in such a manner caused Heeseung to ball his hand into a fist once again. Gripping so tight, his fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm, slightly breaking skin as the residue of thin blood laid dormant under each finger nail.

“Mother fucker….I’m going to tear your face to pieces.”

Watching as the man scattered around, eventually settling on a reciprocating saw tool, Heeseung watches as the man taunts you, further aggravating his rage.

"Oh you piece of fucking shit...don't you dare..."

"Maybe…since I have a tourniquet here, why don’t I just take a piece off your kneecap…that way it’s not taking too much….I need to preserve you for as long as I can so I can enjoy you….savor the moments. I’ll take off a piece…. stop the bleeding and wait for you to calm down and then we can continue…..how does that sound?”

Flipping on the switch, the man held the tool in a steady grip as he placed his other hand over your stomach, preparing to cut into you.

"Hold still, this will hurt only for a little bit....you'll go into shock and well....you wont really feel much until I cut something else off." The man states while displaying an enthusiastic smile. "I can't tell you how much I've been waiting for this moment.....y/n...."

"That right?....."

...................................

The sound of the motorized tool filled the air, yet it was not accompanied by screams of pain or a torturous laugh. You opened your eyes and saw that someone.....was inside the basement......someone other than you and the man who took you.

Heeseung truly did save you, not only from death, but from things that were far worse than death itself. However, the manner of how he did so was….terrifying.

“Well now….what should I take off first, hmm?” Heeseung remarked, mimicking the man's words used earlier to you, only Heeseung's tone was far more eerie and dreadful.

At that moment, what you saw Heeseung did to that man was the most gruesome display of heroism that you’ve ever witnessed. If you could even call it heroism....considering the turnaround wasn't entirely in your favor. When all was said and done, you watched as he came closer to you, hands coated in blood with blotches of it decorating his neck and chin.

He touched you. He caressed you. He whispered into your ear….it was sickening…yet words and tone was sweet and loving, which on the contrary, it only made you more terrified of him. Just what was his deal? You couldn’t make any sense out of his behavior, because as far as you were concerned, the man was a lunatic, yet the way he acted towards you.....it was sadistically romantic and compassionate.

When the words he coaxed and whispered out of his mouth, you realized.......you were saved by an evil man....by another evil man….

“Let me fuck you.”

Twisting and turning around, you screamed and panicked. “Get away from me! Don’t…don’t! Please don’t!” you managed to turn your body over onto your stomach, gaining full sight of the rope that bound your wrists together. With your chest plastered to the table, you desperately tried to untie your restraints, when suddenly you felt the weight of his body softly pressing against you, completely blanketing you from behind.

“Stop! Get…get off!” you turned your face away to the side as you felt him lean in and nuzzle his nose against your hair. Extending his hands forward, he reaches up and grabs on to your wrists, still tied by the rope. Pushing his weight on you, he caused you to become unstable with your movements, leaving you no slack to move. He remains nuzzled against your neck, breathing deeply, releasing the hot vapors of each exhale onto your ear.

“Calm….down….you need to calm down beautiful.”

Breathing deeply, hysterically sobbing, you somehow found yourself calming at the way he issued his words. His tone was calm yet demanding and firm. Somehow, it gave you a sense that he wasn’t going to hurt you…at least not in the same manner as your kidnapper.....but still…..

“I’m going to take you home……we’ll get you cleaned up, and maybe….talk….for a bit? Hmm?” Pushing the hair away from your face, he places a tender kiss on your cheek. Your breathing began to escalate once more as you felt yourself hyperventilating and the sobbing picking back up.

“Hey-heeeey…..calm……down…..you gotta stay calm baby. I really don’t wanna have to knock you out....especially after you just came back to consciousness.”

Upon hearing his subtle threat, you did your best to compose yourself, and seemingly you had succeeded, despite him continuously burrowing his face against your skin, placing soft and tender kisses onto your jawline, your cheek, and onto your neck. He even spoke out, murmuring as his lips remained in contact with your skin, sending out a myriad of tingles and uncontrollable euphoric jolts that found their way to your core, much to your dismay and disliking, yet you found yourself losing the fight against human nature and lost control of your body. What with him displaying the acts of soft tenderness….saving you from torture and death….and showering you with loving words, how could your body possibly physically abstract from his affection? Mentally you remained resisting, yet even that....was starting to break. Feeling desperate, you figured you would try and reach through to him by appealing to the soft and sensitive side he was displaying….

“Please…..please…….please don’t……if all of what you're saying....is real....then please……let me go…..just let me go home….” You softly spoke out in between each sobbing gasp. You did your best to keep yourself calm.

With a suckling kiss on your neck, the squeezing sound of his pursed lips pulling and sucking on to your skin as he gently pulls away bounces off the stark white walls. “You wanna go home baby?”

Nodding frantically, you started to sob harder but did your best to hold it all in, barely. Jutting out each word between your gasping cries, you responded with “Yes……yes! ….Yes…..I want to go home…..please….please just let me go home…..” the last bit of your words died down to an angelic tone of softness as you hung your head low.

“Okay…..come on baby….let’s go home.”

Shaking your head, your gasping sobs escalated for the last time as you found yourself in a verbal trap. “No! No stop! Let go! Don’t! don’t! doooooon’t…….” taking you, dragging you by the waist while you still remained bound by the ropes, he took you. Your screams echoed thought the halls as he led you out of the house and into his car, where he took you…..’home’.

Authors note: oooooh snap!

Taglist: @nshmrarki , @lprww , @baekxo07 , @m7omo @nikstrange @heeshees @moonmoongi @heesitation @heeseung-min @addictedtohobi

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hopeforkitten · 6 months

Text

a little thought about Tav, who admires Raphael's horns

____________________________

for Tav, watching Raphael is an expensive performance for which you need to sell tickets. fortunately, she always has a reserved seat in the front row. It's nice to watch him: perfect posture, focused gaze, order on the table, and oh yes, he knows perfectly well that she is looking at him.

more often he preferred to work in human form, but sometimes, when the balance is disturbed, he preferred the form of a cambion. it seemed to be an insignificant trifle for a devil of his caliber, even a weakness. but is there anyone who will blame him for this?

this form is the real him, it inspires awe and fear. (that's right, it's more convenient to write without claws)

it's harder to watch him on days like this. usually, all of Tav's attention was absorbed by neatly folded wings, and as before, she did not pay due attention to the horns.

oh, his horns.

his majestic crown, the pride of any devil.

Tav, as if enchanted, goes to him (maybe it's his whim? does he need a little more attention today than usual?)

oh of course, his wings fold up allowing her to get close enough to the back of the chair

unable to resist her interest, she hesitantly runs her fingers along the curve of their back until she reaches the high back with large teeth. their back surface is smoother. In the next movement, she runs her hand over the back of the horns. they are not smooth at all, they look like the bark of an ancient tree. Tav is very afraid to pull them a little.

her world expands back to the size of the room when Raphael's voice brings her back to reality.

- I can make it easier for you

of course, he was ready to distract himself, he was ready to let himself be admired.

he's sitting facing her now, and Tav is straddling his lap. if she had thought about it at another time, she would have burned with shame, but now she is too absorbed. (oh gods, she's so small next to his cambion form )

first her hands are on his shoulders, then she raises one and more decisively and palpably runs over the horn, she checks its hardness. the only horn that she held in her hands before that played the role of a cup. these were too heavy and rigid to understand - they are not hollow inside.

she continued to examine them carefully, running her fingers over their tops. then she lowered her gaze and hands to the second pair of small horns, it was so easy to wrap her hand around them and hold them along the curves to the end.

but below, his eyes are frighteningly close. fortunately, he condescendingly looked away.

his calm breath burns her neck. and oh, damn, Tav is ready to swear that she heard and felt the purring from Raphael. like a very big, heavy and lazy cat.

Tav feels his tail wrapping around her waist. she looks down at herself, then returns to Raphael's eyes. she does not know what emotion to show, and can only barely noticeably, slyly smile

- and if I look at you like that?

this can be regarded as a threat

and the threat became a reality. he raised one hand, tucked his hair behind Tav's ear and put his arm around her face. there is the same interest in his eyes as in hers. Tav kept eye contact with him for a few seconds, and then, in order not to waste time in vain, she took his other hand in two of her own and began to examine it.

so big, moderately rough, beautiful. the shade of his skin in this form is really scarlet, like the pulp of a cherry. from the palm, she moved to the fingers, then the nails, they are thicker than human, slightly curved. so bestial, but so neat

Raphael ran his thumb along her chin and returned to hugging her cheek. deliberately slowly, deliberately running his claws over the skin very gently so as not to hurt, but to indicate their presence.

- how the mouse likes to be in the paws of a cat.

Tav returned her attention to him, and continued to hold her hand in hers, lowering it to her lap.

- i really like it.

- is your curiosity satisfied?

- for now, yes, - Tav felt his tail disappear from her waist.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav

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moriburnd · 6 months

Text

characters: akaashi keiji x fem!reader

words: 540

tags: fluff, lowercase intended.

a/n: sorry for the bad english, english is not my native language.

a sea of black clouds covered the sky, and the heavy rain from outside could be heard clearly. In a large room that people usually call the 'living room', two human children were relaxing, watching a movie that they had agreed to watch together. the man sits with his back leaning on the sofa, while the woman lies down on the sofa with the man's thigh as a pillow.

her eyes scanning all the items in the room, until finally, the girl's eyes stopped on a medium-sized album under the table. "kei, is that a photo album?" her index finger pointed at the object in question.

the man's emerald eyes moved, glancing slightly at the girl's index finger before returning his gaze to the screen in front of them. "yes, my photo album. yesterday my mom was nostalgic, hahaha, but i haven't had time to put it back to its original place," the young man responded with a laugh inserted into his sentence.

"i want to see it, can i?" the girl begged with her eyes, implying hope.

the big hand moved to caress the head that was in his lap. he lowered his head to see the beautiful face of his lover. a smile appeared on his face, showing a row of neat white teeth belonging to the young man with the surname akaashi. his hand slowly went down, gently caressed his lover's cheek, and pinched it affectionately before saying, "of course, just take it."

after getting approval, the girl got up from her position, took the album that said 'akashi keiji' on the front cover, and returned to her original position with the thigh of the young man still as a pillow for her head.

her hands opened the not-too-thick photo album sheet by sheet, looking at the contents inside one by one. occasionally a giggle escaped the girl's lips because of a photo that she thought looked very funny and cute.

keiji turned his gaze to his lover, ignoring the screen in front of them. for now, the reaction on his lover's face was more interesting than the movie that was being shown. the corners of his lips were drawn against gravity because of the expressions his lover was giving off.

she still engrossed in looking at every photo there was, until suddenly she screamed, even clear liquid escaped from her two beautiful beads. making keiji shocked and panicked. "love, are you okay? why are you suddenly crying?"

"no, i'm okay. it's just, you used to be a tiny precious child, you were so cute!" she answered in a hoarse voice typical of someone who is crying, and with emphasis at the end of her sentence. then she looked at keiji. "well, you're still a tiny precious child," said the girl as her index finger poked the nose of the man.

keiji breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing his lover's words. his lover likes to suddenly cry when she feels excited, and keiji is still not used to it even after 6 months of their relationship, so he is always panicked by this habit. "look who says I'm a tiny precious child when she's tinier," replied keiji, cupping his girl's cheek and kissing her forehead lovingly.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x you #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader #english isnt my mother tongue #akaashi keiji #haikyuu akaashi

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kassiekole22 · 1 year

Text

A Happy Memory

Description: You arrived to the lodge to find yourself alone so you took the opportunity to savor the peace and quiet around you. But after getting ambushed by Josh, the two of you took advantage of having some alone time before everybody else arrived by having some fun in the snow... Warnings: Just More Floof! 💖 Word Count: 1k A/N: We all need a little more fluff in our lives, right? MasterList: 🖤 Josh's Angels: @lorebite, @yellowroses-world, @house-of-kolchek, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @mornandil, @fortune-fool02, and @raven-the-cryptid. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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I had just arrived to the lodge and noticed that I was alone. I was not too surprised since I did arrive there a bit early to spend some alone time with my boyfriend, Josh. But the mountains seemed barren of him as well. I heaved a sigh, realizing that I'd be spending the next little while alone with my thoughts. It was alright. I didn't mind the quiet. And besides, the view was breathtaking. Big fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky, only adding to the peaceful atmosphere of the mountains. I closed my eyes, listening to the nature around me and taking it all in before, to my surprise, something hit me in the back. After letting out a sharp gasp, I spun around only to see Josh with a big, mischievous grin on his face as he laughed.

I glared at him before bending down to gather some snow and roll it into a little ball. Straightening up, I flashed him a mischievous smile of my own before winding my hand back and throwing the ball in his direction as hard as I could. But unfortunately for me, he dodged it and ran behind a tree. I gritted my teeth in frustration before running and crouching behind a picnic table, planning my next move. I made a couple snowballs and kept them in a neat pile while waiting for a few extra minutes so I could jump out when he least expected it.

I counted to ten before popping up and throwing a snowball at him, hitting him in the chest and making him drop the snowball he was planning to throw at me in the process. I chuckled to myself, feeling slightly victorious as I grabbed another snowball and popped up again, only getting hit again and falling back to abort mission. We continued this little war for what felt like an hour, both of us getting hit by each other's little snow bombs so often that I was sure we'd have welts all over our bodies the day after.

But I knew that we would take care of each other in the end. I knew that Josh would carry me inside and wrap me in a big warm blanket. He'd make us some hot chocolate, filling them full of as many marshmallows as he could because as he had said to me many times, "You measure that shit with your heart!" He'd put on one of our favorite movies and cuddle me while the warmth of the fireplace filled the room. And later, when everybody else was sleeping and the soreness from our little game would begin to take hold, we'd treat each other to a nice full body massage. Of course, he'd insist that he'd give me mine before I give him his. Josh was just sweet like that. But for now, our little battle would continue.

I heard Josh curse as I hit him for the tenth time in a row and ducked behind the table again. He hadn't been able to hit me for the last five minutes and his growing frustration was making me giggle more and more. It wasn't until I heard a disgruntled "That's it!" that I started to worry. I peeked up from my hiding spot to see Josh stomping in my direction and I sqealed before jumping up and running away. He was a lot faster than me though, catching up to me within seconds and pulling me down to the ground so he could pin me with his weight.

He pinned my wrists down beside my head with his big hands and I smiled up at him innocently. I could tell that he was trying so hard to stay serious, furrowing his brows as much as he could as his lips stayed pursed in a thin line before twitching up into a smile despite his efforts to repress it. We both chuckled for a moment, using up the last little bit of engery we had. Once our laughter died down, we paused to gaze into each other's eyes for a moment before Josh leaned down to place a soft kiss to my lips. His own were warm despite being outside in the cold for so long and moved so tenderly that I could feel myself quickly melt into his touch. His lips served as that little slice of heaven I always craved. Even in an act of sin, the angel could always bring me back to the light with just a single kiss. It was like magic.

He pulled away and I gazed into his big green eyes again, admiring the way all the different shades of green collided together in his irises like a forest made up of different kinds of trees and the way his pupils twinkled under the moonlight like God embedded a star in each one; he was breathtaking. The corners of his lips turned up, giving him that ':3' smile that I adored so much. He reached up and caressed my cheek gently, as if he was touching to most fragile thing to ever exist and I leaned into his touch, never wanting him to stop. He leaned down again, until our lips were brushing together every so lightly.

"Want to go inside for that hot chocolate I know you're dying for?" He whispered and my smile widened as I nodded my head eagerly. "What? Can't hear you?" He spoke mockingly and I rolled my eyes with a scoff leaving my now warmed up lips. I was almost convinced that I no longer needed the hot chocolate with the combination of his warmth and his sweetness satisfying my needs so perfectly.

"Fuck yeah!" I cheered out, giving into what he wanted and his lips parted into a toothy grin.

"That's my girl!" He chuckled as he stood up before scooping me up in his arms like his new bride that I someday wished to be. I nuzzled into his chest as I melted into his arms, letting his warmth embrace my cold body once again. This was definitely going to be a memory that I'd keep close to my heart for a lifetime.

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#until dawn #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington fluff #KassieUntilDawnFanFics #Did you notice that at the start of the fic the reader was looking at a breathtaking view and at the end she was looking at one again?#Just an odd coincidence that I didn't plan and I thought I should mention. 😅

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ddesguv · 1 month

Text

Chapter 1

You roll over in bed, grumbling to yourself as your eyes slowly open. The morning light streams in through the crack between the curtains, illuminating the dust particles dancing lazily in the air. The alarm clock on your bedside table blares an ear-splitting jingle, taunting you with the thought of another day at work. You let out a particularly heartfelt groan, annoyance coursing through your veins.

With a sigh, you force yourself to sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and rubbing at your bleary eyes.

Your apartment is small, but it's cozy and feels like a sanctuary after a long shift at the cafe. A bookshelf teeters precariously on the wall above your bed, stacked with an eclectic mix of thrillers, classics, and manga. Your favorite coffee mug, adorned with a grim reaper wielding a steaming cup, sits on your nightstand, filled to the brim with pens and old business cards.

You make your way to the bathroom, the tile floor cool against the soles of your feet. The mirror above the sink is fogged up from your breath, but you can still make out your reflection in the corner. Another day in paradise, you think to yourself, reaching for your toothbrush and toothpaste.

As you brush your teeth, you can't help but think about the shift yesterday. It had been one of those days, alright. The regulars had been particularly demanding, and the new girl, Sally, had been even more clumsy than usual. You'd caught her almost dropping a tray of lattes twice. The worst part had been when that pretentious asshole in the corner had complained about the temperature of his cappuccino.

You rinse your mouth and dry your hands, glancing at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is a mess, your eyes are bloodshot.You let out a sigh, wondering if you should bother trying to look presentable or if it even matters. After all, you're just another face in the crowd at the cafe. You reach for your favorite black hoodie, sliding it on over your head, and then pull on a pair of worn-in jeans and your trusty black Converse.

The walk to work is a short one, only a few blocks down the busy main street. You take in the sights and sounds around you, the hustle and bustle of the city starting to wake up. The smell of coffee drifts on the breeze, mingling with the scent of freshly baked pastries and exhaust fumes. You smile to yourself, feeling oddly at peace amidst the chaos.

You round the corner and spot the familiar neon sign for the cafe, its green and white lettering beckoning you like a beacon. With a sigh, you push open the door and step inside, blinking against the bright lights. The cafe is already beginning to fill up with early risers, the steady hum of conversation filling the air. You nod hello to your manager, Mary, as you make your way to the back, where the staff locker room is located.

Inside, the air is a mix of various perfumes and colognes, mingled with the smell of cheap laundry detergent. The lockers are arranged in neat rows, each one adorned with pictures of family and friends, posters of bands, and the occasional cheesy inspirational quote. You spot Sally, still looking a bit frazzled from yesterday, and smile reassuringly at her.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask as you throw your bag onto an empty locker.She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. "I guess. It's just... I'm still getting used to the pace, y'know? I'm sorry about yesterday. I'll do better today."

You smile at her reassuringly and slap her shoulder lightly. "Hey, we all had to start somewhere. You're doing great, really. Just take it one cup at a time." You glance around the locker room, noticing that a few other people have started to gather near the lockers. "So, anyone have any interesting plans for the weekend?" one asked, trying to get the conversation started.

A few people chuckle, and a guy named Dave, who's been working here for almost a year, says, "Well, I'm going to try and catch up on some sleep, if I can. But other than that, just the usual, you know? Hanging out with friends, maybe hitting up a bar or two."

You nod in agreement, thinking about your own plans. You've got some hunting to do.

"Speaking of plans, I'm actually going hunting ." You grin, feeling a thrill of anticipation at the thought. "It's been awhile since I've been out there, you know? Just me and nature. So don't bother calling me If y'all are understaffed ".

The others chuckle, some of them nodding in agreement. "That sounds like fun," Sally says, sounding a little envious. "I've never been hunting before. What do you hunt, if you don't mind me asking?"

You shrug, thinking about the various prey you've gone after in the past. "Well, usually deer or wild boar." You pause, smiling as you remember a particularly memorable hunt. "It's not just about the kill, you know? It's about being out there, in the wilderness. The quiet, the fresh air. It's like meditation for me."

There's a brief silence as everyone takes this in, nodding in understanding. Even if they've never been hunting themselves, they can appreciate the peace and solitude that comes with being out in nature. You're grateful for the supportive group of coworkers you've got here. They're a good bunch, even if they do like to gossip a little too much sometimes. Yet you can't help but wonder, what would your dear coworkers think about you If they found out that you weren't talking about hunting animals at all. A small chuckle escapes, thinking about how your victims tend to have some animalistic tendencies, after all human beings don't behave like they have done.

"So, how about you lot?" you ask, changing the subject. "Any plans for the weekend that don't involve tracking prey through the woods?" The others start chatting amongst themselves, sharing plans for parties, barbecues, and family gatherings. You nod along, feeling a mix of envy and longing. It's been so long since you've been able to just relax and be part of a normal social setting. But then again, you've never been one for crowds. You prefer the quiet, the solitude. And besides, you have your own kind of fun to look forward to. You excuse yourself from the conversation and go to your locker and change into the simple yet cute uniform.

As you're tying your apron around your waist, you can't help but smile to yourself. The anticipation is almost unbearable. It's been far too long since you've had a truly satisfying kill. You wonder what tonight will bring. Will it be another mundane night at the coffee shop, or will you finally get the chance to unleash your primal instincts? Only time will tell. But one thing's for sure: when you're out there, on the hunt, you feel more alive than you ever do here.

You take your place behind the counter, greeting your regulars with a bright smile. "Hey, Jim! How's it going today?" You ask, pouring him his usual cup of coffee. He responds with a gruff nod and a grunt, not even bothering to look up from his phone. You watch as he takes a sip, noticing the satisfied expression on his face. Ah, the simple pleasures in life. Too bad it's gonna be his last. Oh, old mister Jim, a sleazy landlord from downtown, you've done your homework on him, you know when he wakes up, when he goes to sleep, where his house is where he likes to get a drink, but ,most importantly, what he does in his spare time, always driving his car around the local schools and parks, eyes lingering on teenage girls. You're about to rid the world of his filth.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur of coffee cups and cookie jars. You listen to the patrons' idle chatter, pretending to be interested in their mundane lives. You watch them come and go, some of them leaving with a spring in their step, others with a weight on their shoulders. You're content to remain in the background, a mere observer of the human drama unfolding around you. But all the while, your mind is elsewhere, plotting, scheming.

Finally, the clock strikes eight, signaling the end of your shift. You gather your things, exchanging quick goodbyes with your coworkers. As you step out into the cool night air, you breathe a sigh of relief. The air is crisp and clean, free from the lingering scent of coffee and baked goods. You pull your jacket tighter around you, wishing for something warm to drink, but knowing that it will have to wait.

Your heart races with anticipation as you make your way to the subway. The lights and sounds of the city surround you, the hustle and bustle of human activity almost drowning out your own thoughts.

You board , finding a seat amidst the sea of faces. Some are lost in their own thoughts, others are engrossed in their phones or books. You watch them all, studying their movements, their expressions.

As the train rattles through the underground tunnels, you close your eyes, letting the motion lull you into a sort of trance. Your other senses heighten, becoming more acute. You can feel the vibrations of the tracks beneath you, the warm breath of the strangers around you. You pick up on the faint scent of sweat and perfume, the tinny sound of someone's headphones.

When the train comes to your stop, you gather your things and step off, your heart racing with anticipation. The air above the tracks is cool and crisp, the lights harsh and unforgiving. You make your way through the crowds of people, their bodies a living maze that you must navigate through.

Finally, you emerge from the chaos and find yourself standing before a vast parking lot. The asphalt stretches out before you like a black ocean, the rows of parked cars like silent sentinels guarding the entrance to the lot. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement course through you.

You've planned this for months now, you even paid good money for some paperwork from a mechanic to make sure you have an alibi, after all, with a "broken" car and fake number plates it would be pretty impossible to trace things back to you, hell, you even let your car in this specific parking lot because it has no cameras, easier to sneak out undetected. You get in your car, start the engine and drive off to ol' Jim's house, good thing the fucker lived alone in a house near the outskirts of the city.

As you approach the house, you can't help but feel a wave of disgust wash over you. The place looks like something out of a horror movie, all the lights are off and the curtains are drawn shut. It's like the house is trying to hide from the world, trying to pretend that Jim doesn't exist. But you know better. You know what he's capable of. You know what he's done. And you're here to make things right.

It's showtime!

You pull up to the curb, leaving your car idling as you step out and make your way to the front door. Your heart is racing, your palms are sweaty, but you try to maintain an air of nonchalance. You knock on the door a few times, pretending to be surprised when it swings open. There he is, Jim, looking just as you remember him . He's wearing nothing but a pair of worn out sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair disheveled. His eyes widen in recognition as he sees you standing there.

"Oh, Jim, I- I'm so sorry to disturb you, my pice of shit car broke down and I-I, fuck I don't know what to do, my phone ain't working either, and I just, well I hoped whoever lives here could help me"

His expression shifts from surprise to confusion, and then to suspicion. "What do you mean, it broke down?" he asks warily, stepping back inside the doorway.

" It's started making weird noises and then the engine died, please I'm begging you Jim, I'll make up with free coffee if you take a look at the car" you plead, trying to keep the desperation out of your voice.

He crosses his arms, his gaze unwavering as he studies your face. "Fine," he says finally. "I'll take a look. But you owe me."

You follow Jim back to your car, your heart hammering in your chest. He opens the hood and begins poking around under the hood, frowning at the engine. You try to distract him, keeping up a steady stream of chatter about nothing in particular. After a few minutes, he straightens up and turns to you.

That's when you hit him with the small hammer you hidden on your back, watching as his eyes roll back and blood dribbles from the wound, obviously you didn't kill him just yet, but you did get him unconscious.

Now the hard work begins, you put a blanket over the back seats of your car and shove him inside, making sure his hands and feet are tied.

You then head back to his house, taking some of his clothes and belongings, just in case someone decides to investigate, you know he had planned a trip for tomorrow morning, might at all make it like he already left, and even if his body was found, the suspected ones would be the loan sharks he had numerous altercations with. After making sure you've taken everything important, you leave the house, locking the door behind you. You get back in your car and head for the forest.

The forest is dark and eerie, the trees looming overhead guarding their secrets. You park your car at the edge of a dirt road, making sure it's hidden from view. Then, you drag Jim's limp body out of the car and into the forest. The weight of him is surprising, but you manage to carry him for a short distance before finding a suitable spot.

With a sharp smack across the face you manage to wake him up , his eyes fluttering open in confusion. "What's going on?" he manages to croak.

You smile coldly, revealing a knife in your hand. "I could ask you the same question, Jim. But I think we both know why I brought you here." You kneel down next to him, pressing the blade against his throat. "You've made a lot of people suffer, and I'm here to make sure they get some justice."

Jim's eyes widen in fear as he takes in your expression. "W-What do you want from me?" he stutters.

You laugh darkly. "Oh, Jim. You don't get it, do you? You're going to die here. Tonight. And it's going to hurt." You push the knife harder into his throat, drawing a thin line of blood. "But before I end you, I want you to know that I'm doing this for all the people you've hurt. All the lives you've ruined."

Jim's eyes dart around, terror etching itself into his features. He tries to speak, but no words come out. You smile again, a cruel expression that chills him to the bone. "Oh, don't worry. I'm going to kill you slowly. I'm gonna make sure you feel everything."

With that, you plunge the knife into his leg, twisting it as you do so. He lets out a scream that echoes through the forest. Blood pours from the wound, soaking his pants and staining the ground beneath him. You lean in closer, watching with a detached fascination as he writhes in agony. "See, Jim? This is for all the times you thought you were untouchable. For all the people you thought were nothing."

You reach down and rip his shirt open, revealing his chest. He screams again as you slice into his flesh, carving out a chunk of meat and exposing his ribs. You press your hand against his wound, feeling the warmth of his blood seeping through your skin. "This is for all the times you lied and cheated, for all the lives you ruined. You're going to feel every ounce of pain that you've caused."

You step back, watching as Jim struggles to breathe, his body convulsing in agony. You reach into his pocket, retrieving a small flask of whiskey. "This should help take the edge off," you say, pouring the amber liquid over his wound. He screams again, the pain intensified by the burning alcohol.

You stand over him, knife in hand, as he writhes in the dirt. "You see, Jim? This is what it feels like to be helpless. To be at the mercy of someone else. You may have thought you were invincible, but you were wrong." You press the knife against his chest, carving out another chunk of flesh. "And you know what the worst part is? This is just the beginning."

As you continue to slice and dice his body, you find yourself lost in a macabre dance of death. You carve words into his flesh, letting him know exactly what you think of him and what he's done. You take pleasure in watching the life drain from his eyes, in hearing his labored breaths turn into agonized gasps. With each cut, you feel a sense of release, of catharsis.

The forest around you is eerily quiet, save for the sounds of Jim's torment. Occasionally, a branch cracks under the weight of some unseen creature or the wind rustles through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. But it's nothing compared to the sounds coming from Jim. You feel a strange mixture of emotions: revulsion at what you're doing, but also a twisted sort of satisfaction.

You carve the words "LIAR" into his thigh, watching as blood pours down his leg and pools on the ground beneath him. "You thought you could get away with it, didn't you?" you ask, the anger in your voice laced with disgust. "You thought you could ruin people's lives and just walk away clean?" He whimpers in response, unable to muster the strength to speak.

You take a step back, surveying your handiwork. Jim's body is a grotesque landscape of open wounds and exposed flesh. His eyes are rolling back in his head, his lips blue from the cold and the blood loss. "You know, I've thought about this for a long time," you confess, your voice cold and detached. "I've thought about how I would make you pay for what you've done." You kneel down next to him, running your fingers through his matted hair. "And I've come to the conclusion that there's no punishment severe enough for someone like you."

You reach into your pocket and retrieve a small box. Inside are several long, thin needles. "This is going to hurt like hell, Jim," you warn him, "but it's nothing compared to what you've put others through." You carefully insert one of the needles into his neck, piercing his carotid artery. Blood begins to flow freely, pooling around him. "This is for the people you hurt," you say, your voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breathing.

As you watch the life drain from his eyes, you take out another needle and begin to stitch him up. You start with the deepest wounds, working your way to the surface, sealing them shut with expert precision. The contrast between the pain he's experiencing and the numbness that sets in as you work is almost comical. You smile to yourself as you tie off the last stitch. "There we go. All better now."

You stand up, wiping your bloody hands on your pants, and survey the damage one last time. Jim lies motionless in the dirt, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. You can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at what you've done. It may not have been enough to make him truly suffer the way he made others suffer, but it's something.

" Well my friend, I'm afraid the show is over, it was truly a pleasure playing with you" with that said, you take one final look at his miserable face and thrust your knife deep inside him, straight in his heart.

With a gurgling sound, he gasps for air and his eyes widen in shock and pain. But it's too late. His life ebbs away as you twist the knife, watching his struggles grow weaker and weaker. Finally, there's no movement left, no breath left. He's gone.

" Now, time to dig, fucking hell i hate this part" you go back to your car and take a small shovel from your trunk, making your way back to Jim's corpse.

You dig the grave in silence, the sound of the shovel striking the dirt and the rustle of leaves the only noises to break the stillness of the forest. It takes you some time, but eventually you've dug a shallow grave large enough to fit his lifeless body.

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #fanfic #hazbin hotel #alastor #slow burn #x reader #long chapter #mature theme

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practically-an-x-man · 3 months

Note

For reasons unknown, an immortal beast has been dropping off random trinkets at your ancestral home for generations. They're all kept in storage; nobody dares throw them away. Today instead of a trinket, the beast leaves a note with instructions on it.

Tweak this one as you see fit. Maybe Octavia? Dunno. Do what sparks your imagination!

Taken from here if the link works...

Ooooh I've actually got a neat idea for this one....

Thank you!!

____ Years Ahead

Word Count: 2.7k Content Warnings: none? mentions major character death but not in a violent way

____

The boy peered at the doorstep. He didn't spot the trinket for a long time. He was looking for something bright, something shiny, like so many of the other trinkets were shiny, and this... wasn't.

Finally he spotted it, a folded piece of old paper half-tucked under one of the flowerpots on the front stoop. Carefully, he tilted the pot enough to snag the paper underneath, and gingerly unfolded it.

It was a photo: in color, glossy, but faded with time. It looked like the photos the boy had seen on the walls of his grandmother's house - they still stuck to paper, instead of the screens and projections he had in his own house.

The photo showed a cluster of figures, dirty and bloodied but grinning at the camera. Some of the figures were... odd, not quite human, and it made the boy wonder where this picture had come from.

He folded it back up and took it inside. His mother had warned him, repeatedly, not to get too involved with the trinkets. Nobody in his family knew who sent them, only that they'd been arriving on the doorstep almost daily for close to a century. There was a heavy oak trunk in the attic, big enough that the boy and his father could both curl up inside and take a nap, full to the brim of these little trinkets.

The boy tossed the photo onto the pile with the rest, looking at the odd assortment of trinkets in the box. It didn't make sense: Roman coins next to animal-bone jewelry, rolls of camera film stacked on top of shark teeth and bullet casings. It was like their mystery gift-giver had raided a museum. Half the items looked like trash to him, useless, but his mother forbade him from throwing anything out.

"Did you check the stoop?" his mother called out, from somewhere below him.

"Yeah!" the boy shouted back, "It was a photo! I put it with the rest!"

He thundered back down the stairs and raced to catch the bus, and that was the end of that.

____

The next day, there was a shiny silver medal on the stoop. The boy picked it up and carried it upstairs, like all the rest, but something made him curious. He snagged the previous day's photo and turned over, poring over the figures in the shot.

There. The tall man in the center of the picture- he had the same medal clipped to his chest. And a gun slung over his shoulder. Military. The boy didn't know what it meant, but it felt like some sort of clue.

He spent the rest of the day rooting through the chest of trinkets, separating any items that caught his eye. He didn't find any more clues there, though he nearly cut himself on a small, slender blade at the bottom of the trunk. He nearly gave up there. It was a fluke, these two items in a row, or their mystery gift-giver just happened to steal from this military man and give out what they found there. The boy had wondered repeatedly if they were a thief. It was the only way to explain how they got all the trinkets.

His mother called him down to supper. He was nearly to the stairs when he remembered the stack of photos.

"Just a minute!" he shouted back down to his mother, rifling through the photos as quickly as he could.

Sure enough, the same man popped up in almost all of them. A few of the others did too, here and there, but none with as much frequency.

Well, almost none.

The man had his arm around them in almost every single one of the photos. Smaller, shorter, sharp-eyed but smiling, and always with a weapon in their hand. And as the boy flipped through the pictures, one right after another, he noticed something else.

They didn't age.

The man next to them did, little by little. His hair, already on the pale side, went thin and gray. Lines appeared on his forehead and cheeks, crinkled around his eyes when he smiled. The boy had no idea the scope of the photos, how many years were represented, but he could see that quite a lot of time must have passed between them.

And the person standing next to him did not change. If the boy looked closely, he could see a few new scars on their skin, or shifts in their expression over time, but they didn't age like the man next to them.

Immortal. Or close to it.

He knew who was leaving the trinkets.

The boy ran downstairs and tried to explain this all to his family, but they didn't believe him. No, not quite - they might have believed him, but they insisted he not push this any further. He didn't need to know who was leaving the trinkets, they said, and trying to investigate might just make them angry. If this really was some sort of god, the last thing they wanted was to displease it.

He said he understood. He said he wouldn't search for any more clues. He said he would let the immortal leave their gifts, and he would put them in the trunk upstairs, and that would be it.

He lied.

____

That night, once his parents had gone to bed, he snuck out of his room and crept down to the front stoop. He intended to stay there all night, armed with a two-liter of caffeinated soda he'd stolen from the kitchen and his fluffiest blanket wrapped around himself to ward off the nighttime chill. He was determined to stay awake, and catch this mystery gift-giver in the act. He held the photo and medal clutched tight in his hands.

Hours stretched on, and even the soda couldn't help him hold off his tiredness. It just made him have to pee. He was glad his mother didn't catch him doing it in the bushes. She'd be furious.

There was no sign of the gift-giver, nor anyone else. The night was dark and silent around him.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he noticed was sunlight spearing into his eyes. His head hurt, probably from all the soda and lack of good sleep. And he hadn't even caught a glimpse of the person he was looking for.

But his blanket had been tucked around him a little more soundly, and in his hands, alongside the medal and photo, was a note.

Stop looking for me.

There was no signature. The words were written in dark ink, simple and blocky handwriting. He was half-convinced his parents had written it for him, the same way they'd masqueraded as Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy for so much of his life.

The boy had to hustle back inside before his parents could realize he'd spent the night on the stoop. He got dressed, brushed his teeth, ran off to catch the school bus like it was any other morning. The note burned a hole in his pocket the whole way.

He didn't show the note to his parents. When they asked about the morning's trinket, he grabbed a random object from the trunk upstairs and presented it to them. They couldn't tell the difference.

That night, he tucked a few of the photos - all showing the military man in the center of the shot - under the flowerpot, alongside a note of his own.

Who is he?

The boy didn't expect a response. But the next morning, he found another old medal from the US Army on the front stoop, alongside a small scrap of paper.

You remind me of him. Stubborn. Stop looking for me.

That was the only explanation he got. It confirmed something in his mind, though - the immortal from the picture, the one the soldier always held close to his side, was the same one who'd been leaving his family these little trinkets for decades.

He left them another note.

Why do you leave my family these things?

That one was accompanied by a handful of items from the trunk upstairs. He picked them at random. In the morning, they were gone.

Would you rather I take them back? Stop asking questions.

He thought about that one for a long time. On the one hand, he didn't want them to take back what they'd given - mostly because it sounded like a threat, and he didn't want his family or their home to get hurt because of it. Maybe he was getting too curious for his own good.

But on the other hand, they'd responded to every note he left. They could have been silent, kept leaving wordless trinkets or no trinkets at all, let him think they didn't understand English or didn't care or weren't human at all. But they responded. So maybe they did care. Just a little.

That night, he decided to voice his thoughts.

Why would I stop asking questions when you keep answering them?

Answering was more than a little generous. He still didn't know anything new. If anything, he had more questions than he started with. But why would they respond at all if they didn't want him to ask more questions? He had the strangest feeling that, whoever this person was, they liked the back-and-forth of it.

But maybe he'd pushed things a little too far with that last note. They were silent for a whole week after that. No more notes, no more trinkets. Even his parents started to get suspicious.

Just as he was ready to give up, when he debating not checking the stoop at all after so much silence, there was another note under the flowerpot.

You built a fort in the woods when you were ten. Meet me there. Next Sunday at midnight.

He'd definitely pushed things too far. This was how kids got abducted. He was a smart boy, but even a stupid boy would know not to walk into the forest at midnight and meet somebody they'd never met. He didn't even know this person's name, or if they were who they said they were. The only proof that they were the immortal in the pictures was that they'd been leaving trinkets for a hundred years, and no normal human would be able to do that.

But he wanted his questions answered. He wanted to see who it was.

He thought about telling his parents. This was starting to get scary. But if he told them now, they'd shut this whole thing down. And if this was the immortal person in the pictures, if they did know who that military man was, this might be his only chance to find out.

He didn't tell them just yet. He just left another note.

How do I know I can trust you?

The response was on the front stoop the morning after, alongside a carved statuette the size of his thumb. It looked like a lion, carved of some rough off-white material that might have been bone.

You don't. I'm a very dangerous person. Your family has always known this. There's nothing I can say that would reassure you otherwise.

But if you want to see me face to face, that is where I'll be.

He debated it for days. Logic told him not to go. Instinct told him he would be fine. He wasn't sure which one he trusted more.

____

The next Sunday, the boy found himself walking through the woods. He still remembered the path to his fort, though the darkness made every tree look alike. Once or twice, he thought he saw the gleam of animal eyes reflected in the light of his flashlight. Every so often, a stick cracked from somewhere off to his left. He felt like he was being followed.

He wasn't unarmed. He had a knife clutched in his hand, the same small blade he'd found in the trunk weeks before. In his pockets were a collection of firecrackers he'd found in the garage - hopefully they would prove some distraction if this really did turn out to be dangerous. He'd clipped the medals to the front of his shirt, just because. They made him feel a little braver.

He approached the fort, silhouetted in the darkness. His eyes strained for light, looking for any figure or flash of movement. So far, he saw nobody.

"You have my knife."

The voice came from his left, and he chucked the blade as hard as he could in the direction of the voice.

It struck their shoulder, hard enough to make them stagger back a step. Calmly, as if they were in no pain at all, they pulled the blade from their shoulder and turned it over in their hands. The wound sealed over in moments, leaving behind only a rip in their shirt and a wash of blood down their arm.

"Not bad, kid."

"You're the one from the picture." he blurted, the first thing that popped into his head. Because they were - the same sharp eyes, the same freckled-spotted skin, the same dark curly hair. Now they had no weapon, and most of their scars were covered by their long-sleeved shirt, but their face was familiar. He'd been looking at it for weeks.

The boy rustled in his pockets, pulling out the picture they'd left before - the group photo, where they all looked young and healthy, with the soldier and the immortal and the human shark and all the rest. Now it was obvious they were the same. They hadn't changed at all, though he wondered what had happened to the others in the photo.

"This one." he said, holding it out to them. The person took a step forward, and the boy unconsciously matched it with a shuffle back. He didn't want them close enough to grab him. He still had that much sense. The other person stopped where they stood, tilting their head at him.

"Yes." they said, "That one."

"You're... you're a god?" he guessed, his other hand fiddling with the firecrackers in his pocket. He had a feeling they would do very little, if this person wanted a fight. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here. Maybe he shouldn't have investigated.

"Not exactly." they responded, "I've just lived a very long time. You've heard of my kind before. Metahumans. Amazons."

"Like Wonder Woman."

That made them grimace, just a little. If he hadn't been watching them so intently, looking for any flicker of motion, he would have missed it.

"Yes." they decided, "Like Wonder Woman."

"Why do you keep leaving things on the doorstep? My grandpa says you've been doing it since before he was born." the boy asked. Little by little, he could feel his fear starting to trickle away. He still was wary, he still didn't let himself relax, but he was becoming convinced that this person wasn't here to hurt him. They still hadn't moved from their spot, and their hands hung loose at their sides. One still held that little knife, but it was a casual grip, like they'd forgotten it was there.

They were silent for a long time. The boy shifted on his feet.

"I made a promise, a very long time ago," they finally answered, dark eyes still frozen on the photo in his hand. They looked sad. They looked like they'd been sad for a long time. "I promised that I would protect your family for as long as I could. I promised that I would keep you safe. The trinkets are a sign that I'm still here to watch over you."

"Did he make you promise?" he asked, pointing to the man in the center of the photo. Another low wash of grief passed over the person's face.

"Yes," they said, voice choked, "Yes, he did."

"Who are you?" the boy couldn't help but continue, glancing between them and the photo in his hand, "Who is he?"

"My name is Eris." the person responded, looking at the picture with dark, sad eyes, "The man you see is your great-great-grandfather. He was... he was the only man I ever loved."

#this is sort of an au since i'm definitely a 'rick is a secret metahuman' truther but it was fun to write #my friends!!!#answered asks #my ocs #oc eris #my writing #ficlet #oneshot

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 1 year

Text

tuesday again 2/28/2023

goodbye february!

listening

night beats by hex. @slothshark has done a much better writeup of the aural soundscape than me (partially deaf) ever could. it sounds like its cover art. it knocked my fuckin socks off. this thing is SO textured, it's like taking a nylon scrubber to the inside of my skull (in a very good way). the way the reverb and the slight feedback blend is just. mwah. also features a close cousin of the morricone WAH WAH WAH wail!

reading

raymond chandler's the big sleep. once again i trust that we are all adults who know that many genre works, including this one, are very much products of their time. however this one is exceptionally racist and homophobic for its time. chandler can't quite make up his mind how he feels about Jews.

it reads very much like a first novel, the plot and pacing unfold like a colt getting up. i like the solution of the book much more, but even though the movie's plot is a little less coherent it has more Vibes. another first novel problem is that it's a little embarrassed of itself-- this line dampens every cool line aferwards.

"Neat, huh?" Brody said. "Just kind of stand up a minute. Come forward just about two yards. You might grab a little air while you're doing that." His voice was the elaborately casual voice of the tough guy in pictures. Pictures have made them all like that.

which immediately dampens the following lines and every cool line thereafter in the book

"Tsk, tsk," I said, not moving at all. "Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains. You're the second guy I've met within hours who seems to think a gat in the hand means a world by the tail. Put it down and don't be silly, Joe."

a baffling choice the movie makes, which makes it far less coherent, is changing vivian's husband from the missing sean ryan to rutledge, Some Guy she's divorced who is never seen on screen or mentioned again. i'm not sure why this adaptational choice was made but probably a censor issue? maybe howard hawks thought marlowe would look bad if he went after a woman who was looking for her missing husband? in the movie marlowe already makes a pass at nearly every woman he meets except carmen, who is barely grown and frankly doesn't hold a fucking candle to her sister vivian.

how'd i find this: the big sleep was the first movie i watched this year and i have not been able to stop thinking about it for two months. i think i slightly prefer dashiell hammet's prose to chandler's, but chandler wrote some of my favorite short stories.

watching

witness for the prosecution (1957, dir. billy wilder)

this movie ended with a fascinating early piece of spoiler culture: “The management of this theater suggests that for the greater entertainment of your friends who have not yet seen the picture, you will not divulge to anyone the secret of the ending of Witness for the Prosecution.”

youtube

when i watch movies made by directors i already know i like, i have a good time! who would have thought!

another fucking scintillating Wilder movie to showcase some of the greatest character work ive ever seen. despite (maybe because of) the numerous twists, it’s one of the fairest mysteries ive ever seen. i don't think knowing the twist spoils the film, bc it's really know what happens but HOW it happens, but i find myself reluctant to discuss the ending at all.

how'd i find this: had kanopy credits to use up, thought this would be a good movie to knit to. partially right bc i got a fuck of a lot of rows done bc i was knitting faster and faster as it careened along. there was a cramp in my jaw from clenching my teeth so hard.

playing

still fuckin around and finding out in fallo/ut 4, still in beautiful postapoc maine.

the lighthouse at brooke's head fixed itself and now at the proper distance from the ground. did not go inside bc i was overencumbered by like five hundred pounds and wanted to go finish my house on longfellow's little islet.

hi valentine. the proportions are. not ideal and i probably should have built it facing the inner harbor for maximum hurricane resistance. it is not the most efficient house i have ever built, bc it only has three bedrooms. however! i imagine it is the main hub for supplies coming in and out of my far harbor settlements/a meeting place for the islanders. hence the enormous table and extra bar stools behind the counter. this first one is looking back toward the front door.

i guess ppl could crash on the trio of couches if they needed to. when you walk into the ground floor, you pass a narrow but deep kitchen, and a little pantry and separate full bath that split off the main living/dining bookcase area like so.

the upstairs has one Very large bedroom for a couple, two smaller bedrooms with armor and gun workbenches, and another full bath. plus a little seating area jammed into the spot behind the stairs and a continuation up the stairs of the "weapons i don't want to sell but don't want to carry around" wall. this house is too bright, doesn't have enough stuff on the walls/enough chairs everywhere to be a real new england house, plus the stairs are very much up to code. but i do like it.

my fucking KINGDOM for washers and dryers as buildable objects in the base game. also my fucking KINGDOM for a bay window as a buildable object in the base game.

making

will not have my femslash feb piece ready by tonight :(

in other making news, i would rec these white bean/kale/rice bowls. surprisingly easy to make bc all you have to do is make rice and wilt some kale and then assemble a bunch of stuff. i did not add walnuts bc i do not like them, i did not add feta bc the grocery budget is a little tight this month, and i did not make the viniagrette from scratch bc i had a perfectly good one in the fridge. i did not think this was going to be filling and resigned myself to huge portions, but this is surprisingly filling i guess bc beans and rice are a complete protein? my primary care doc will love this for me bc 1) vegetarian and 2) v heart healthy. i would definitely up the rice to two or even two and a half cups, bc i assembled four bowls at once for lunch/dunner and they were a little scant on the rice. luckily i had a fuckoff huge bunch of kale to make up for it.

will be making it again bc it requires shockingly little prep and (once you've bought the giant jar of sun dried tomatoes) pretty cheap.

three! and a fifth! blanket! repeats!!!

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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thirtysevenodddogs · 9 months

Text

Teenage Dream Ch9

MATURE CONTENT 18+

I'd made a pretty cool new cover image for this chapter, but it didn't fly with Tumblr so I'm re-using this one!

Pairings: Main-Joel Miller x Reader/You (reader has a name)

Secondary- Joel x Tess / Mentioned- Ellie x Riley, Tommy x Maria

Fic Warnings: 30/y Age Difference, Joel is 48, Reader is 18, Underage for Ch1 (reader is 17), Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Anal Play, Use of Sex Toys, Outdoor Sex, Squirting, Sex Tapes, Infidelity, Rough Sex, Spitting, Face Slapping.

Word Count: 9k+

AU-No Cordyceps Outbreak/Sarah is alive

BFD!Joel Miller

Joel Miller is having an affair with his daughters' best friend.

You can read the rest of this fic in my AO3 -> In Madness

Everything seems to just fall into place, and it feels good and right and perfect.

Wednesday morning you wake up and after getting ready for school and saying goodbye to your parents when they leave for work, you pack.

Small things, old things, things your parents won't notice are gone because they haven't been used at your house in ages, placemats and cutlery, a tiny pot and two small-is pans, two plates from a set that was mostly lost during a renovation and your mom won't use, even just for the three of you, because is now mismatched, the salad plate is gone, so are most of the bread plates, and there are only 4 soup bowls left out of the 6 there used to be, all the dinner plates are fine tho and the design is pretty, bone china with a hand-painted flower trim, they're just not good enough for your restauranteur parents anymore.

You grab a couple of glasses from the same corner of the pantry where all the rejects lie, they're cute, crystal and peach colored, which you think will match nicely with the plates you chose, and you set everything carefully into a box and load it onto your car.

And you're excited because it feels like you're building something, you can see a brief glimpse into the future, even if just for that day, having dinner with Joel using the things you chose for YOUR place, cooking meals in that pot and those pans, setting up the little dining space on the kitchen island and just being with him.

And you know he wants that too, he basically said as much when you had sent him those photos the night before, after the charity event, of the bite mark on your breast and that toy still inside of you, when you'd told him how you felt, what you wanted, and how you wished there was more evidence of him on you, of your love.

You bring your hand up to cup your breast over the crisp white shirt of your uniform, and you bite your lip at the dull ache that still lingers there. You can picture the mark he left, an almost perfect circle of green and purple bruised skin, framing the delicate little nub of your right nipple with two rows of mostly neat, straight teeth, only a tiny line out of place, where one of Joel's bottom teeth is crooked just so.

💕J: 'So beautiful baby'

He'd replied and after you sent him the second one, of you laying in bed completely bare with your pretty toy still inside of you, he had called you for the second time, and he'd talked you through getting it out and through getting you off; It had been so incredible, and when he said he loved you and that he couldn't wait to see you, to BE with you... you knew he could see it too.

Your future together.

That day, after school, you rush to the apartment and he's already there, he makes love to you in the shower on his lunch break, his hands gripping your hips so tight as he enters you from behind that you can actually feel the sting of your skin breaking under his nails, and little red-ish rivulets run down your legs staining the water.

He makes love to you again in the living room while he's "on an errand" from work, and he kisses at the tiny half-moon punctures on your hips and tells you how sorry he is, and asks you to forgive him, he makes you come eight times total, with his fingers and his mouth, and his cock.

And in between waiting for him, you start to fill up the space with the things you brought for you to share and build upon.

He makes love to you for a third time later that night, after his work day is over and just before you both need to rush back home, he takes you on your back, in your bed, deep and slow and he sends you home with whispered promises of tomorrow and that tiny little toy back inside your body.

Thursday, you pack a few more things, little trinkets that decorate your bedroom, and a few pieces of clothing, mostly short skirts and soft tops, tight dresses and cute little panties, no bras... things you know he'll like.

That afternoon you learn about edging and boob jobs, and that Joel really REALLY likes it when you suck on his balls.

He comes all over you, so hard and soooo much, thick and sticky and hot, it's the sexiest thing you've ever done, and the way he looks at you like you're the most wonderful thing he's ever seen, it makes you feel almost powerful, lying in bed covered in his cum.

He asks you if he can take a photo and after you say yes, he shows you how to move and how to pose for him and he showers you with praise for your beauty and how you are "...such a good girl, baby".

He films you giving him a blowjob, the second one you give that day, and when he comes, this time into your mouth and down over your chest, he tells you that you are beautiful and that he loves you "...so much pretty girl, You're so fucking perfect" and then he cleans you up in the shower, careful and patient and sweet, and he trails soft tiny kisses and small little love bites down your neck and over your torso, leaving little marks all the way down to your mound.

It's the most beautiful thing.

On Friday, he sends you a message early in the morning just as you're stepping out of the shower to get ready for school, a sleepy selfie leaning over on his side, still in bed. He's shirtless and he looks so gorgeous, his wavy hair fluffy and all over the place, and there's a full dimpled smile on his face.

Your heart beats so hard you think it might just come out of your chest.

💕J: 'Can't wait to wake up with you baby. See you tonight. I love you.'

You look at the fading bite mark on your breast and the trail of hickeys that go all the way down from your neck to your belly and stop right at your perfectly trimmed pubic hair, and the small half-moon shaped indents of his fingernails on your hips. All of it proof of his desire, of his love.

It's everything you never knew you wanted.

You're branded and claimed.

And all HIS.

Joel is in pain.

After he snaps the photo and sends it to you, he flops back down onto the mattress with a grunt, his body is protesting every single movement he makes, his thighs burn, his shoulders are throbbing and his lower back is stiff, he feels like he ran a marathon with no training and no warm-up and THEN, at the finish line, he got run over by a semi.

You are so beautiful and perfect and enthusiastic, and he really does love everything about you, from your curves to your scent to the way you taste, and the way you make him feel like he's untouchable and invincible when he makes you come undone. You make him feel strong and virile and YOUNG, every time your body is perched on top of his, every time your legs spread open to let him in, every single time you let him bend you over... Fucking fireworks.

Right now tho, he does not feel young, not in the least. There are no fireworks.

He swears even his eyeballs hurt when he opened his eyes at exactly 7 am, his alarm going off with an incessant harrowing ringing.

"Fuuuuck!" he groans, actually whining a little, low in his throat as he brings his heavy arms up to press against his eyes, willing the ache to subside. "I'm too fucking old for this shit" he murmurs into his empty bedroom and sighs, putting his arms back down and gathering as much strength as he can to just sit up and shuffle to the edge of the matres.

And he wasn't exaggerating, he really does feel like death, a pinch on his back forces a cry out of him and his hand shoots back to press against that spot just above his ass where he's sore the most.

He stands up slowly, both of his knees making alarmingly loud cracking noises, and don't get him wrong, he's in good shape, he may not work out in the traditional sense, but construction work is no joke and even tho his job is mostly managerial and administrative nowadays, he still keeps himself active on every site he works, but this? This is the kind of pain and soreness that comes from actual strenuous activity, like weight lifting and running laps, and... having ridiculously acrobatic sex with an incredibly flexible and exuberant eighteen-year-old for three days straight.

He's pretty sure he's broken his personal record of how many times he could make a woman come in a single session.

He stretches and sighs at the small relief it gives him when his back and his neck crack, more intentionally than his knees had done, and he just stands there for a minute, he takes a deep breath and lets it go, and he feels every single one of the thirty years he has on you, weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He shakes his head in resignation and grabs a bottle of Naproxen from his dresser. He throws his head back and swallows 4 tablets dry, and he knows it's more than the recommended dose, but he NEEDS it.

The pain finally starts to ebb away around noon, but he has bigger problems by then, and lately, he's been wondering if Tess's dad is actually right and if he's just fucking incompetent at his job, because it seems like he keeps hiring morons who do more damage than any good at all, and it fucking pisses him off because he had a plan, he'd made a promise, and now that's broken.

The day goes from bad to worse when the client sends in the budget report and tells him to start making cuts, they're already shorthanded as it is thanks to the fuck up with the electric last month, but there's really no way around it, he's already changed to the cheapest suppliers he could find that still had top quality materials, and he's made as many deals as he thinks he'll be able to do, in fact, he's pretty sure that if he asks for another "friends discount" he's gonna start losing friends... Fast.

By the time he finally manages to crunch the numbers enough that he only has to let go of 3 people, it's already half past 11 pm, he's tired and worn out and the aching in his body is back with a force, all he wants to do is go home take a hot shower and have a drink before crawling into bed next to you.

And he's so out of it and weary that he doesn't realize until he's parking into his own driveway that when he thought of home and you, he was picturing you at his house, in his bed waiting for him, and not that stupid fucking apartment.

"Goddamn it!" he hits his steering wheel so hard he bends his wrist, and that's just another ache to add to the growing list, he still wants a drink so he might as well add something to the place since you've taken it up on yourself to start decorating, he leaves the engine running and gets out of the truck just long enough to take a piss and grab two unopened whiskey bottles from his liquor cabinet.

When he gets to the apartment it's close to one, and he tries to be as quiet as he can when he opens the door, he's not even sure you're going to be there at all, he had already fucked up by not making it by 6 like he had promised you.

And he didn't know he was actually holding his breath until it all comes out in a rush when he opens the door and... there you are.

He feels his heart shatter at what he finds, the kitchen island is perfectly set up for two, with the pretty plates and glasses you had shown him so proudly on Wednesday, and there's even a tiny vase holding flowers, he sets down the whiskey and his keys right next to it and when he walks further in, he can see you more clearly.

So fucking gorgeous, lying on your belly on the sofa, he can't see your face yet, but your toned shapely legs are fully exposed, the little dress you're wearing riding up your thighs enough to even give him a peek at your perfect perky ass, clad in lacy panties.

There's a sharp pang deep inside his chest, because you clearly had been waiting for him, and he can picture you so eager and excited, and as he breaths in he notices that the apartment has a faint sweet and savory scent to it, and looking at the perfectly set counter top he can gander a guess that you didn't even eat whatever it is that you had cooked, and it's all his fault.

You are so fucking perfect, and he couldn't even give you this one night, your first full night in here, together, and he ruined it.

"I'm so sorry baby" he whispers as he moves closer to you, and he really should take a shower, he's all dusty and covered in grime, but you just look so fucking tempting, innocent and beautiful and soft, and he owes you an apology.

As he reaches you, he's overcome with emotion at how striking you really are, your cherub-like face is illuminated by the light coming in from the balcony window, and you look almost ethereal, relaxed, and still in your sleep.

Your eyelashes are so long and dark and your lips so plump and shiny, so fucking pretty. The spray of freckles under your left eye and the beauty mark that sits at the tip of your nose, make you look almost unreal like he made you up in his head. Your face drives him crazy, even more so than your body, because you truly are the prettiest woman he has ever laid his eyes on.

And he wonders if it is that all of your beauty has only just blossomed, or if maybe he just never allowed himself to notice it before because you were still a child when he met you. That first night four months ago when you came to him. you had opened his eyes and it was like a switch flipped and gone was the child, and in her place stood a fully formed woman, virtuous and shameless, begging to be taken by him.

He wants to take you now, he always feels hungry when he's with you, never sated, never full, he just wants to take and take and take once more, the minute he'd seen you lying there, even among his regret at failing you, his cock had still stirred to life, and it was now hard and aching, throbbing inside his pants as he reaches out to caress your legs with his fingertips, dragging them all the way up to the edge of that pretty dress, and he bends down, in front of you now, to kiss at your forehead softly.

"Baby" He whispers, pushing your hair back out of your face, kissing your cheek next "Baby wake up", he nuzzles his way down to your lips, and not even the tightness on his back or the dull ache of his knees as he slowly goes down into a squat, stop him from taking your lips with his "Jenna" he murmurs against them, and hearing your name seems to do the trick as you start to respond, your lips pressing back against his, his hand now completely under your dress groping at your ass.

"Hi sweetheart" he pulls back just as your eyes flutter open and you smile at him, still way too lost in your sleep, but it's enough for him to take as an acknowledgment of his presence when you kiss him again "Hey pretty girl" his voice is still low and soft as he kisses your cheek again and slowly gets up from the floor, leaning over kissing your shoulder now, moving the strap of your dress just a little bit to kiss at a beauty mark and then a little lower on your back.

You groan as he kneels on the couch behind you, and spread your legs slightly just to give him enough space, a little more awake now, conscious of his intentions as you look at him over your shoulder, even if you haven't spoken yet.

He stares back into your sparkling sleepy eyes as he pushes your dress up higher over your back and cups your ass "I'm sorry I'm so late baby" he pleads with you, lowering his head to kiss at the small of your back and then lower still, planting his lips atop the lacy edge of your panties, his fingers digging a little between your cheeks, spreading you open so the material falls in between the mounds of flesh, so he can bring his tongue over it and as close to your tight little asshole as he can.

"Aahh... Mmmm" You moan and turn your head to look at him again, but you don't tell him to stop, you just get comfortable, and it is so, sooo beautiful how open you've become to the pleasures he's shown you, he loves eating your ass, and you enjoy it more and more each time. You spread your legs wider as he pushes more firmly against you through the soft green lace "Mmm I'm gonna take your panties off baby, wanna taste you" He groans, and you just lift your hips as he does, pulling the material off and down your legs slowly, leaving a trail of little kisses as he goes, letting them drop to the carpet before diving back between those ripe, tight curves, to savor you.

And it's fucking delicious, more than any meal you could prepare, eating you may not be sustenance for his body, but it is for his wanton soul.

Eating you feeds his lust.

You're panting and moaning at each swipe of his tongue, his hands gripping your thighs now holding you open and his tongue dipping down to explore your dripping core, licking at your essence before going back to run little circles around your tight furl.

It feels so good, the heaviness of sleep is still all around you, and his hands are so rough, yet they touch you with such tenderness, it feels dreamy like you're floating and he's the ocean crashing into you while still cradling your body in his waves.

He groans as he pulls off after a few minutes, and you haven't come yet, you're not even close, but everything feels incredible, like nothing you have done before, it's slow and tender and soft and loving and it makes you feel warm and wanted, he starts trailing kisses over the curve of your butt, whispering about how sweet you taste, how amazing you are, and how sorry he is for making you wait, he makes his way back up kissing over your back through the soft cotton of your dress, all the way up to your shoulder and you can feel the heat of his body as he shifts and moves, not pressing down on you, not yet, but still close covering you completely.

"Turn over baby", he says right against your ear, sucking on it for just a second before moving back down to kiss your shoulder, and then he's not over you anymore, and you hear the soft metallic hiss of his zipper followed by the heavy thud of his jeans hitting the ground, and you're still cradled in those waves in between sleep and awake, your body heavy and warm and comfortable, so you look at him over your shoulder and you pout a little, spreading your legs, still lying prone on that comfy spot.

He snorts softly and chuckles "Come on sleepy girl", he says softly, returning to the couch, his hand going down to play where you're the hottest, a long thick finger entering your body "Mmm... " you moan and roll your hips slow, just once and he laughs again, you don't really feel like using your voice, everything is perfect and quiet and still, even his voice is a barely there whisper every time he speaks.

"Mmm you're so beautiful my love" his body is pressing down on you now and he's speaking into your ear again, his finger deep inside of you, moving softly but never pulling out, rubbing at the spot inside that he knows how to find so well, to make you go crazy "Let me see you baby, turn over for me" he kisses your cheek and then your lips when you turn your head towards him "Let me have you sweet girl"

And you do, he helps you turn around onto your back, taking his finger out of you tenderly, and shifting slowly and carefully so he's right between your legs still, and as you settle back into that warm spot, he takes your mouth in a deep kiss, bringing both of his hands to your shoulders, to slide the straps of your dress down, pulling at it until you're left completely bare but for the flimsy material bunched up around your waist.

You gasp as he licks at your breast and sucks a nipple into his mouth, his fingers now rubbing your clit, everything is still soft and slow and clouded in that dreamlike feeling, "Oooh..." you moan when you start to feel the heat bubbling up in your belly, your hands wrapped around his neck, caressing his face and his hair as he moves lower and lower, your belly tightening and your first orgasm of the night washing over you just as his mouth opens over your pussy and he sucks you in "Aahh... " you're breathing hard and labored now, your hand still on his head, and he's eating you out like a man that's been starving.

You come again, a sharp little gush of liquid squirting into his mouth while his tongue is inside of you, and that has been happening all the time now, at least twice a day he's made you squirt, soft and small spurts like this some times, hard and endless streams others.

It's incredible every time.

You're beyond moans now, groaning and crying in ecstasy as he makes you come again, and he speaks softly into you, his lips still against your opening, right before he makes his way back up your body, following that trail of the fading marks of his love, sucking and nibbling, almost like he's making sure they'll stay there.

And if you could you'd will them to become permanent.

To be forever on you, as you are forever his.

"Oh fuck yes! Love this pretty pussy" he groans against you as another little spurt of the sweetest ambrosia gushes into his mouth, your lips down here are so lovely, flushed, and puffy from his endless ministrations, and he can see the pulsing and clenching of your core from all the stimulation, it's beautiful, you're beautiful and he WANTS more.

He wants it all.

He moans as he starts kissing his way up your body, your fleshy thighs first, right where they cradle his head, and then up higher to your hip, and he follows the pink-ish purple trail of bruises on your skin, his cock leaking at the sight, it had actually gotten harder when he first flipped you over and saw his marks on your skin, so fucking pretty.

He comes to a stop right at the first one, just over your mound and he sucks down on it, making the mark darker, and it gives him a little bit of a thrill, because when he looks just off to the side, he can see that little smiley face tattoo that you share with his daughters, and he knows deep down that what he does next is a little fucked up because he does it out of jealousy. He bites down around that smiley face and sucks, hard, almost knawing at the skin, and he wishes he could replace their mark with his, he wishes that your skin belonged only to him.

After he makes sure all his little marks are reignited, he finally reaches your lips, and you're still so pliant and lazy with sleep, but you kiss him back so eagerly. "I love you so much pretty girl" he whispers, and each time he says it, it rings more true. He swallows your moan into his mouth as he brings a hand down between your bodies to position himself just right, and with one hard thrust, he's inside of you.

Half dressed and still covered in dust, you take him in, you let him have you.

It's like nothing he has ever felt before, it's so slow and nice and warm, your kisses are sweet and sloppy, his hands take their time exploring your body and yours grip at his hair and his shoulders and his arms, and it's so different, he wishes he had the right words to describe it but he can't find them.

Beautiful, perfect and amazing, even monumental... all of them inadequate.

The way you look right now, it's so breathtaking he actually stops just for a moment to take it all in, his arm holding your leg up over his shoulder, his hips pushed into you so close, his cock so deep inside your heat, you open your pretty doe eyes and look straight into his and he needs to make sure it's real, that YOU'RE real and that he isn't just making it all up in his head.

His hand reaches out to touch your face, his fingertips just barely gracing your lips, and it almost feels like reverence.

He starts thrusting in earnest now, lowering his body over yours to cover you completely, he needs to feel you as close as he can, have as much of you as he can get, and it feels so urgent, even in this quiet glorious moment where the only sound that permeates the room is his flesh slapping against yours, his harsh breath and your moans. He touches his forehead to yours, never breaking eye contact.

All the aches, and pain, and the anger and frustrations of the world outside are gone, he doesn't feel tired, he doesn't feel old. You've made him whole again, new, just like you do every single time he's with you.

You are divinity wrapped in innocent youth and sinful pleasure, and this is his time of worship.

And he does, worship you, from inside out and head to toe, he lavishes all the love he never thought he'd get to have or give again onto you, on your back, and on your knees, and from below, your body moving and arching and bending into every position so perfectly, so beautifully. You give yourself over to him so wholly.

He loses his shirt at some point, and he tears your dress off of your body, your fully naked forms coming together over and over and over, he's never had sex like this, never felt like he was melding into another person so completely, he has no idea where his body ends and yours begins.

You are both now covered in sweat, and the heat feels almost stifling, but he can't stop, he doesn't want it to end, he's never felt this good.

The stirring of his orgasm starts rolling from the tips of his toes, and it's almost like he can feel every single muscle spasm, his toes are curling and his knees are locked, his thighs and his ass start to tense up and he's thrusting into you so hard now. Your moans had long turned into whines and whimpers, and your pussy has been clenching, dripping, and gushing almost nonstop, your nipples are stiff and peaked as he sucks on them, and he knows he's soo so close.

Hoe doesn't want to break the spell of the deep intimate silence with his voice, so instead he takes your mouth in his as he reaches his peak and you both cry in the brief agony of ecstasy as he spills inside of you, long hot spurts, deep into your core, as much as he can, as long as he can give it to you.

He pushes all the way in then, rolling his hips against yours until his dick starts to go soft and he can't thrust anymore, he stays there, cradled in your arms, his head against your chest as you both try to catch your breath.

It's the sweetest embrace.

You wake up the next morning wrapped up in his arms, his hand softly cupping your breast and one of his muscular legs thrown over both of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the back of your neck, and the weight of his flaccid sex resting against your thigh.

He is so much taller than you, broad and strong, and you feel so safe in his arms, warm and protected and loved.

You wiggle a little and turn over, he groans and shifts his body to lie flat on his back, an arm stretched out under your pillow, and the hand that was holding you now resting on his bare stomach, he's so fucking good-looking, you feel so lucky some times that a man like him wants you the way he does, and you love just staring at him.

He's told you a couple of times how he likes to watch you when you sleep, and right now, you can understand why. When he's still you can take your time and really, REALLY look at him, his face relaxed in sleep, with none of his usual frown lines marring it, his beautiful pouty lips slightly parted as he snores softly, his sun-kissed skin so soft and perfect, a smattering of freckles over his shoulders and his well-defined chest, even the little tufts of coarse hair around his nipples and running down from his navel and over the tiny little pouch of his soft belly are beautiful to you.

And even tho sometimes it doesn't show, right now you can really see his age, in the rough patches of his labor-worn skin, the wrinkles around his eyes, and the salt and pepper color of his hair... ALL of his hair.

He is so hot though, ever since he had moved to town with Sarah and Ellie, you could hear women whispering and gossiping about him, girls at school, ladies at church, even your mom had once mentioned how 'Those Miller men sure have good genes...' when you'd run into Joel and Tommy at the grocery store, which from her was as much an admission of attraction as anything, she'd laughed that funny fake laugh she always used in public when they had greeted you, and in a hushed joke whisper she'd told you not to tell your father that she'd said that.

And now you get to have what they all want, and it makes you giddy because you know that he wants you back just as badly.

You're careful, as you lay a hand over his chest, and slowly, so slowly make your way down, your eyes briefly looking up at his face just to make sure he's not awake yet, and then back down to follow the path your hand is taking, and you bite your lip as you reach that flat skin at his hips, framed by the hint of a V shape that tells of a body that was once very toned and is now beautifully comfortable, you can see the shadow of well-groomed pubic hair under the crisp white sheet, and the shape of his penis, still soft but not any less impressive.

Even though you don't really have much to compare it to, you know he's much larger than the boys you'd been with before, thicker too, and you start to feel hot just at the memory of when he first entered your body, in his bed, kneeling behind you and reassuring you as he pushed in slowly, and how full you had felt once he was all the way in.

You lick your lips as you pull at the sheet to reveal more of him, you can already feel the moist slick gathering between your legs as you press them together, just the sight of him is amazing, and it is so nice looking too, handsome just like the rest of him, uncut and perfect, lying a little curved and to the side on top of his balls.

And even soft as he is right now it's almost as long as the back of your hand as you let it rest over that spot where his hip meets his thigh, your fingertips gracing over the curls that surround his manhood, scratching and tugging softly at the hair as you let them explore.

You leave your hand there, flexing and stretching your fingers in an absentminded caress, next to where his body is the warmest, and you tilt your face up again to look at his face once more before nuzzling into his side and closing your eyes again, just resting but not sleepy enough to go back to sleep.

You just want to enjoy him, and this moment.

Last night, you had felt disappointed when he didn't show up by 6 as he had promised, and when your texts went unanswered you'd felt a little sad, but you figured something must have gone wrong at work, and besides, you hadn't told him your plan, he didn't know about the dinner, or that the dress he'd torn off was brand new, or the whole evening you had planned, with a movie and a game, just like you had done back at the cabin.

And he had apologized to you in such a wonderful way, he had never made love to you like that, so sweet, and soft, and slow, it was so incredible, the way he could make you feel, you're sure no other man on earth makes love like Joel Miller, there is just no way, he had been so full of passion, tender and rough at the same time, it had almost felt like an out of body experience, every time he moved and shifted your body into the position he wanted, a new sensation arose that you had never felt before.

Every touch of his hands and his mouth had felt like electricity, shooting sparkles all over your skin, and every orgasm had been so full that by the time he had finished inside of you, the fogginess of pleasure was such that you didn't even know if it had been multiples or just one that was so long and intense it left you tingling and gushing all over the couch cushions.

You're pretty sure that particular piece of furniture is completely ruined.

And later in the shower when he'd apologized again and told you what had happened, you had understood, happy to have been right, his work was hard and stressful, so it was ok. You knew he didn't mean to let you down or make you sad, he just worked really hard.

You had shown him your compassion and your understanding, and your love, by taking his softening member which was still covered in your essence, into your mouth and you'd brought him to his second climax of the night... or early morning you should say, because it was almost 3 by the time you dried off and got into bed.

And you're not really sure what time it was when his kisses and caresses had woken you up, but it felt like hours that you had been tangled up in each other, sharing your love.

As your head settled on your pillow, just before you'd drifted back to sleep, he had promised that it would never happen again, not ever. And you have no reason to doubt him, he's done nothing but be good to you, loving and caring and kind.

You open your eyes again, staring at his chest as it rises and falls with each breath, and for a brief moment, you let a little stormy cloud cast its shadow over you when you remember that he still hasn't broken up with Tess, but you shake it off and remember that it's only been a week since he confessed his love to you, so he hasn't broken that promise either.

He's gonna do it, you're sure of it, he just needs time.

He's breathing softly above you now, and you smile because this part right here, his body against yours warm and relaxed in sleep, is what you have been craving. You move your hand from where it's resting next to his crotch and bring your arm fully over his torso, holding on to him.

Making love with Joel is amazing, but cuddling into his body and sharing his bed, YOUR bed, is even better. This is what love songs and romance movies are all about, that last scene, the most powerful line when the one night stands and the forbidden loves turn into deep cuddles and meaningful kisses, perfect everlasting smiles as the curtain drops and the music fades.

It's everything you want with him.

You turn your face and lay a kiss on his side, and you picture days of mornings just like this, a week, a month, a year... A lifetime.

You picture your future with Joel, a sparkly ring, a white dress, traveling the world, and a BIG round belly heavy with his child, and in your fantasy, you forget all about his family and yours, in your wishful hope nothing stands between your love, in this early morning daydream, you are in a relationship, you're not a dirty secret, you're not the other woman.

In your movie, he loves you forever, In your love song everything works out, next to him, is the place you are meant to be.

Joel wakes up to the feeling of a soft tickle against his ball sack.

He opens his eyes slowly to find you laying on his chest, your small delicate fingers playing with the hair that covers his scrotum, and a faraway look on your face, and he's sure you haven't noticed he's awake, so he just watches you and it's so fucking cute, your expressions are so open and he marvels at the way your soft little smile turns into a pouty frown just for a moment, and then it's back, bright and pretty, and your hand stops its playful little dance at his groin, and then you're just holding him, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his side.

He smiles when you kiss the skin just under his armpit.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours sweet girl?" he asks softly while he pulls his arm from under your pillow and wraps it around your body, and he laughs at the way it jumps when you get startled at the sound of his voice, your pretty tits jiggling and bouncing against his side.

"JOEL!" You cry and slap his chest softly, tilting your face up and pouting at him "You scared me" you whine, and that's new... and he thinks it should make him feel weird that the baby voice is turning him on a little.

"Aww I'm sorry baby" he chuckles, tightening his hold on you and using two fingers to keep your face tilted enough to get to your lips "Mmm" he moans when you part them instantly to suck his tongue into your mouth.

"You just looked so beautiful, all deep in thought", he says once you break the kiss, letting your head go back to its resting place on this chest.

"I was thinking about you", you say softly, your fingers are tracing patterns on his belly now, and he sometimes feels a little self-conscious of that part of his body, like he gave up, failed himself somehow when he let go of the tight sixpack and settled into his aging body.

He doesn't feel like that with you, in your hands, the soft flesh doesn't feel like failure. The way you will sometimes just hug him and rub at his belly actually makes him feel good about it, makes him feel good about being a little bigger, and he loves the way you like to explore his body, to play with him, he loves teaching you how to please him, and he loves letting your curiosity guide your hands like it's doing now.

"What were you thinking about me?" he asks, and he closes his eyes letting himself bask in the feeling of your curious little fingers as they move lower, almost back to where they were when he had woken up, tracing those soft patterns from his belly down to his hip.

"I was thinking that you have a really, REALLY big cock" he smiles at the little giggle that comes out of your lips every time you use a 'dirty' word in bed, and he opens his eyes to see you biting your lip and looking down at where your hand is inching it's way closer and closer back to his groin. "Hhm You think so?" he asks, and this really isn't how he pictured your first morning in this bed was going to be like, but he's not complaining.

"Yup" Your fingers are dancing over his dick now, a barely there touch of your fingertips, running from where the bulbous head is peeking slightly out of his foreskin and all the way back up, to the soft curls at his base, and is not really enough to stir much out of him, but it still feels good. "I was thinking of when we first made love, in your bed, and how it felt when you were pushing inside. Do you remember?" you take him softly in your hand and move his member so it now lays limp over the nest of his curls, resting against the curve of his lower stomach.

And while he wouldn't exactly call your first time together making love, it at least didn't feel like a mistake anymore and if you wanted to remember a fast, dirty fuck that way, he won't deny it to you.

"I could never forget that, baby", he says, his fingertips joining yours now in their little dance, tracing their own soft patterns down your arm and over your back, and it's like you're both still caught in the quiet spell of the night before, speaking in hushed whispers, coming together slowly, tenderly.

No other woman before has taken this much time to lavish such attention to his cock either, and he's amazed that at 48 he gets to have some first times still. You give him so much.

"It hurt a little bit", You say softly, your index finger now making its way all the way from his tip down to the fleshy, loose skin of his ball sack, and all of a sudden you turn your face back up to look at him again "Not bad!" you tell him, in a rushed breath, and you only settle back down into the little spot you have carved for yourself against his body once he gives you a small nod and a smile of understanding, because he remembers that part too, how you went a little still, tensed up at the first push of his engorged tip into your tight little passage.

"The guys I was with before, they didn't feel like you" you go on.

And he knows that too, he remembers the almost jealous feeling in his gut when he first discovered you were not untouched, kneeling halfway down his staircase, his nose getting that first wif of your decadent scent, his tongue lapping up the sweet elixir of your precocious youth, and his fingers sliding into you so... easy.

Not his cock tho, that, you had really felt.

Your hand starts moving with a little more purpose now, your fingers griping and pushing at his foreskin, making the spongy head pop completely out, moist, and exposed to the chill of the room.

You make him feel so fucking wonderful.

"How do I feel when I'm inside of you baby?" he asks, he really wants to know where this is going, and he wraps his arm around you now, his fingers tracing their patterns against your hip, there is no rush, and he just realized as well, that while there's heat gathering in the pit of his stomach, and the hum of want is starting its vibrations, his dick's not really gonna be doing much for him... or you, this morning.

"Good" Your voice is all but a whisper, as you wrap your hand around him "Big and hot" You start stroking him now, he's only half hard and he knows that's how he'll stay, but it's still so good "Mmm yeah? You like it when I'm inside of you baby?" he asks and you just nod, pulling on his foreskin a little bit, rubbing it between your fingers like he had taught you how to do, and after a few moments of pushing and pulling and stroking, you look back up at him with a frown and a pout on your pretty lips.

"Am I doing something wrong?" You are so fucking sweet, he smiles down at you and shakes his head "No baby, I'm just tired, but it feels really nice" He brings the hand that had been resting at his side, up to your face, and he cups your check while you look at him "Some times this happens pretty girl, and it's ok, I still love your hands on me" he pulls you closer and tilts your face up to kiss that little pout away from your lips and he whispers against them "Go on sweet girl, tell me how it feels when we make love" and that's the first time he's used those words out loud when you're together, but he knows that's what you want it to be, so it's not just sex or fucking anymore, not ever again, not with you.

"It feels so good Joel", you say, and kiss him back and it amazes him that you keep touching him, stroking his mostly flaccid cock so carefully, so lovingly.

You spend the morning like that, talking and kissing and caressing each other, holding your bodies close and bringing each other over into a different kind of pleasure, and the look of wonder on your face when you still make him cum even in his current state makes the moment all the sweeter.

And he can quietly admit to himself while he watches you lick at the mess on his belly, that he's well and truly head over heels in love with you.

And in his head, he starts to formulate a plan, because he wants this, he wants you.

For a looong, long time.

Last week changed something.

You're not exactly sure what it was, at which moment it occurred, but you feel the shift, you feel it in the way Joel looked at you all through Saturday and well into Sunday, in the way his touch lingered more and more, in how he talked to you, and how he kissed you.

You notice it in the days that have followed, in the way that afternoons spent making love have turned into afternoons where you share meals and have conversations, in the way you realize that you didn't actually know Joel at all, and in the way you're starting to.

Little things, like how he doesn't like the taste of mayo and how he can smell it on a sandwich from 5 feet away, or that he hates the way that bar soap feels on his skin and that he actually uses proper face wash.

You learn that sometimes he just wants to lay down on the floor as soon as he arrives on his 3 pm lunch breaks because his back is killing him, and his knees ache, and how it makes him happy when you lay down next to him just because you want to feel him near, he doesn't say anything about it, but you know because when you turn your head to look at him, from his shoulder or his belly or his chest, your most favorite spots on his body to lay your head on, there's a big dimpled smile on his face.

You learn about the big things too, like his divorce, and how Olivia had walked out on him years and years before, leaving him with two crying toddlers to raise on his own, and he tells you about Ellie, who you are shocked to learn is actually Joel and Olivia's niece, adopted after her brother and sister-in-law had passed away in a freak accident while on vacation when Ellie was just one year old. He tells you about the happiest day of his life when Sarah was born, and he got to hold his baby girl in his arms for the first time.

He tells you about Tess too, about how they met through Maria, only a few months after her husband had died, and about how she never made him feel the way that you do, not even once, but he also tells you that she's a nice lady, who's been nothing but good to him, and you know he doesn't want to hurt her, so you tell him it's ok when he asks you to give him a little more time to break up with her.

And in exchange, you tell him things too, even if you feel a little funny at the way you are so far apart in experience, your life is so free of any real worries and stressful problems, but he never makes you feel like anything you tell him is unimportant, he listens to you talk about how pressured you feel to get into a good school because your parents have worked so hard to give you every opportunity, and he gets excited for, and, with you when you tell him all about your secret dreams of becoming a Pre-K teacher, and he holds you when you cry after a girl at school had been mean to you, and he soothes you and he peppers your face with little kisses when you tell him how sad it makes you that you can't talk about him with your friends, that you can't tell them how happy you are, how happy he makes you.

And you tell him about all the naughty things you think about him now, and all the naughty things you used to think about him before you'd really met, you tell him how he gave you your first orgasm when you were only just fifteen and still learning how to touch your own body, you tell him how it was his face you saw, the first time you pushed the thick handle of your hair brush into your pussy, and about how the first word you ever moaned when you were lost in pleasure was his last name because you didn't know his first name yet, and he chuckles and teases you about how you can call him Mr. Miller any time...

And he never makes you feel small, or dumb, when you ask him about things that you don't understand or that you're curious about, and he's so patient and so kind when he explains them to you.

And he teaches you so much every single time you make love, about your body, and about his, and about all the ways in which you can make each other feel good, even during those times when it takes him a little longer to recover, and during those when he doesn't recover at all.

You learn more new terms and what they mean like creampie and soft cock play, and double penetration, and he shows you how to use all the little goodies you had finally shown him from the sex shop, and every day he gets out his little toys with the heart-shaped gems and he does that thing that he likes to do the most and that still makes you blush like crazy.

And he gets you ready.

He lets you call him your boyfriend, while you pose for him so he can take pictures, and he laughs and kisses your cheek while you sit on his lap and change his contact name on your phone for the third time, and he lets you change your own in his.

You make little videos together now, so that you can watch, your phones in your hand or set up on the dresser, or the table, once even, next to you on the kitchen floor, and you try to be careful, only from behind, or bellow the neck, never saying each other's name or showing your face, and it's sooo hot, that neither of you thinks about the risks.

You love each other fully, on that 5th floor, between those four walls, behind a closed door.

And everything is perfect.

He's so fucking scummy.

Really that's all he can think about, his back is sweaty and his hands are slipping and his breath is heavy and harsh, panting from the exertion of repetitive movement, and there's so much noise, too much noise really, bouncing off of the walls. Squelching and slapping, and squeaking.

And he's just fucking scum, the worst.

He still grips her tighter, and his hips still thrust a little harder, and the way she screams and pushes back against him makes his cock ache for more.

"Fuck yes!! Fucking take it!" He grabs a fistful of auburn hair and pulls her head back as he fucks her, and really he had come here with the best intentions, he swears to God he was going to keep his promise, he loves you so much, sooo fucking much.

He slaps her face, just once, open palm against her already marked cheek "You fucking like that don't you?" And he's a bad baaad man, a pig, a dirtbag, and you deserve so much better.

"Aaah yes... Fuck yes... fucking spit in my mouth!" she groans through clenched teeth, and he does, 'cause she might like it in the dark, under the covers, and once in a blue moon, but... Tess could be nasty as fuck if she wanted to, she could get him going zero to sixty in the time it took her to drop her panties.

And he had come here with such good intentions, he'd come to keep his promise, to let her down gently, tell her it was over.

And he really doesn't love her, he never lied, not to her and not to you, she's never made him feel the way you do all shiny and new, he doesn't even really know how they ended up here, they just had a lovely dinner and 2, maybe 3 glasses of wine and next thing he knows she was kneeling on the floor and his cock was down her throat and well... one thing leads to another really.

And he's sorry, he's so fucking sorry.

"Fucking turn over" he growls, his fist still gripping her hair as she pulls off of his cock and gets on her belly, and he can't stand to look at her face, can't fucking stand himself right now either, he's a douchebag, a fucking jerk, scum of the earth.

He spits down into her pussy, and slams back into her so hard her head knocks against the headboard, her hands coming up to push against it, as the bead creaks and rattles.

"Oohh.. oh fuck" She drops a hand down and pushes it under her body, her tiny fist wrapping around his cock where it's pushing in and out of her body before moving lower to tug at his balls, and all he can picture is your pretty mouth, so sweet and innocent as it wrapped around them for the first time just a week ago.

And he feels sick, he really does, his stomach hurts and he wants to cry and maybe throw up a little, and he's so close, soooo fucking close.

It's almost over.

He closes his eyes and grips her hair tighter and he fucks the sloppy, dripping hole of her cunt as fast and hard as he can, and when he comes, it's to your pretty face, that dimpled smile, and those pouty lips, and your voice in his ear 'I love you so much, baby'.

And he's almost fucking 50 years old, but when he brings a hand up to wipe at his face as he falls back against her mattress, there really are tears there, he's still trying to catch his breath, and before he can think of what he's doing, what he's saying, the words are spilling out of his mouth, and it's like a car crash in slow motion, a thundering storm, and even if he tried there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"I'm seeing someone else", he says, lying next to his girlfriend of 3 fucking years, panting and both covered in sweat, and she's looking at him, still on her stomach, her hair a tangled mess.

"I'm pregnant", she responds. Her face a blank mask, no pain, no anger.

Joel leans his body over the side of the bed and retches, spewing his guts into her trashcan.

And he loves you. He really does.

#joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #mia's fic #bfd!joel #best friend's dad #not intended for minors #18+

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ferromagnetiic · 3 months

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uta slams her hand down on the table to get his attention. and she grins proudly while she placed a clear box with holes pierced into the top on the table, shoving it closer to kid so he can have a look at the amazing gift she got him. inside this makeshift cage a big deep red stag beetle was waiting for him. “look at this one! it’s not a scorpion but isn’t it pretty neat? took me hours to catch it.” not that the leaves still stuck in her hair would give away that she might have dived head first into bushes and climbed trees to catch the little fellow. “it looks pretty strong so i thought i would give it to you. you couldn’t win beetle battles with just any beetle.” she nods along to her own words, then points at the beetle. “the red ones are special. and pretty feisty, it reminded me of you. happy valentine's day, captain!” ( kid pirates verse cuz captain deserves the shittiest coolest valentine's day gift in existence <3 )

【 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘. 】 @melodysian 【 Uta. 】

As if aware of the introduction, the ruby insect in question seems to deliberately shift into the overhead glow of the candlelight, reflecting the warm yellow tones across its glossy exoskeleton. Though it barely moves an inch, the sheer mass of the beast combined with the sight of oversized pincers lined with studded teeth would cause one to associate it with a dangerous nature; something that could, if provoked, cause notable harm. It should go without saying that Kid is enamored with the gift. He leans in to the clear container to get a closer look at the specimen, taking in the sight of it from different angles. Taps the glass with the tip of an equally red nail, trying to tempt the beetle into further movement.

❝ Right beast, he is. ❞ He decrees, a signal of his approval accompanied by a smile that displays both rows of his teeth.

❝ He's a fighter, then? A bitey one? ❞ It would be for the best if he is a fighter, as she claimed. God knows he was prone to unintentionally squishing tiny creatures whether he intended to or not — he wasn't known for having an especially delicate touch. If the beetle were to survive under his care, it would need to be determined to cling to life. Kid would not state this information to Uta. He will do his best to care for the bug to the best of his abilities. Perhaps he will make a larger container for it in the near future so it has more room to roam. He ponders over this for a few more moments as he continues to admire the red stag, before finally drawing his attention back to the girl before him.

❝ Damn nice of ya. He'll get a nice spot on a shelf in my workshop. ❞ Placed somewhere he could be easily admired. A very high compliment from the surly mechanic.

Before Kid returns to seating himself upright in his chair, he extends his right hand towards Uta's two-toned hair; plucks a dry leaf from her bangs, then looks at it trapped between his fingers.

❝ ...Hold on, before ya go. ❞

A few pieces of silver scrap metal scattered over the floor begin to hover closer to him; all odds and ends he had been intending to save for a future project, now being put to another purpose. He draws a thin sheet of steels to his hands, and begins to effortlessly contort it like he was handling paper. Magnetized fingers fold and bend the material with ease, smoothing down previously sharp edges, reshaping the item like wet clay. He works for a few minutes, carefully fussing over his ongoing creation without another word until it's finished. The metal groans and creaks under his command and progressively shrinks into its new shape.

When he is finally satisficed with the product, he presents it to the musician seated across to him on a flat palm. A shiny silver hairclip, with a little metal beetle attached to the front. It's not quite as intimidating as the one she brought to him, admittedly; it borders more into a simple and cutesy idea of a beetle rather than bearing a ferocious appearance. Still, he thinks it's fairly obvious what it's supposed to be, and that's good enough. It'll keep those bangs out of her eyes, and maybe then she won't get quite so much foliage in her hair when she goes bug hunting.

Kid drops the hairclip into her lap with a flick of his hand.

❝ Gift for a gift. We're square, now. ❞

#melodysian #melodysian : uta #【 ⚙ ˊˎ | GET OUT OF MY WAY | ask. 】#【 ⚙ ˊˎ | RECKLESS TONGUE | ic. 】#VALENTINE'S DAY 2024 #// BABEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY SHE BROUGHT HIM A BEETLE #// HE'S GOT A NEW PET #// he's going to train it to fight with luffy's beetles.#// feed it protein and make it strong.#// they're friends now. it's his little beetle buddy.#// thank you uta he loves it. i loved this ask we're both very happy i am screaming.#// happy valentines day. kid is very loved.#// i'm going to reference his beetle friend whenever i can hehehe

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kadavernagh · 1 year

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Through the Darkest Clouds || Solo

TIMING: Months after Regan was brought to Saol Eile LOCATION: Saol Eile PARTIES: Regan SUMMARY: After enduring the screaming exercises involving bottles, Regan advances onto bigger and better things. CONTENT WARNINGS: Emotional abuse/manipulation (Regan’s grandmother), animal death, gore

Saol Eile was beautiful – green, quaint, and peaceful. Some, who valued natural beauty and serenity, would consider it an envious place to live. And Regan wanted none of it. She thought only of home, and Reilly, and Al, and her mother’s grief, all of which had been stolen from her. The bed she’d woken up in day after day, and week after week, seemed like nothing more than a gift from monsters. The food from murderers. The assurance from utter aliens.

The others and their expectations made her want to curl up and away from it all. But then she’d feel the wings, and her voice would pitch so high she’d make the walls wobble, and her stomach clenched with the knowledge that she was among them now, and something needed to be done. How easy would it be to make someone’s lungs explode, a simple mistake? As easy as opening your mouth, Cliodhna would say. She never failed to describe it, dangling the very thing Regan feared most as an inevitability… unless she was willing to learn.

Slowly, methodically, they were forcing Regan to understand. After the bottles came the knife – framed as a gift, an honor. She flinched away from grasping it, having seen firsthand the terrible damage such weapons were capable of. But she had misunderstood. The knife was not to harm others. Not this one, at least. It was meant only for use against herself. Each failure marked her. And there were so many failures. But better to harm one’s self instead of harm others. And Cliodhna assured her, there would come a day where she wouldn’t be a self at all.

By the month of Autolysis, she was presented with the bottles. Lined up in neat rows, awaiting her scream. She still couldn’t manage to break some but not others. Her screams were untamed, sloppy, and dangerous.

Autolysis flowed into Marbling, which flowed into Bloating. The others told her it was now the month of Putrefaction, and she was expected to have come further than she had by now. Regan knew that today’s lesson would be entirely different from what came before, but she didn’t yet know how. Would it be classroom style? More screaming? More bottles? As she stepped into the familiar clearing she and Cliodhna trained in, her knees buckled. Regan bared her teeth at her own body’s weakness and forced herself still, before Cliodnha could see that Regan was just as weak inside as she appeared out. Part of her expected the clearing to be dripping with menace and unfamiliarity, the promise of something new and terrible, but it looked the same as it always had.

Cliodhna arrived, and she wasn’t alone. Toted behind her with a firm rope around its neck was a fawn, stumbling on its stilt-legs as it tried to keep up. Cliodhna spared the young animal no glance, and only continued to march forward. The woman, who claimed to be Regan’s grandmother, who shared an undeniable resemblance, was one Regan had learned to fear and rely on in equal measures. “It’s good that you fear me,” she’d said once, “We’ll know your work is nearing completion once that changes.” No matter how closely Regan searched, she never found any kindness on Cliodhna’s face. There was only an icy, dark mask.

She couldn’t picture her grandmother having ever been besotted over even her own children. Whenever that thought surfaced, her heart sank, thinking of her dad. Yes, Cliodhna was exactly the kind of person who would dispatch her own child, and not even blink. And yet, there was often a tenderness to her, reserved only – seemingly – for Regan and the other strangers in her family.

"You brought a deer? What relevance could it possibly have?" Regan looked into the animal’s dark eyes, seeing only dumb, oblivious innocence within them. She wondered if her Cliodhna saw similar in her own eyes. “I don’t see how that’s going to–” Regan started, ready to protest whatever new and cruel exercise was about to occur. She had failed at the bottles, failed at all attempts to practice, so what was this?

But her tongue was tied by her own words as they pushed against the binds they’d put in place together. So Regan stopped herself. It was best to let Cliodhna explain, anyway. Clearly, her grandmother knew the only way this could work.

Regan tried once more. “There are no bottles today.” Not a question or a protest – an observation. A statement. Well, okay, maybe a question, too. She was never certain whether or not Cliodhna would openly receive them or not. She said her curiosity marked her as disloyal, and all too human. A word that left a stain on Cliodhna’s face for minutes after she spoke it. So don’t make me speak of them, she had said once, when Regan pointed out her clear distaste, do better and eliminate the need for comparisons.

“You are done with the bottles, leanbh. They’re nothing but a child’s toy, baby bottles, and you must grow up. You’re a late bloomer as you are.” A constant reminder. She gave the fawn a gentle stroke with a finger. “Even taking that into account, you’ve made the slowest progress out of any bean sídhe I’ve known. Your father, pitifully human, achieved more success than you.” She always stopped short of questioning whether or not she should have left Sean to live, and Regan to stay blissfully unaware.

That didn't clear anything up. Regan stood in silence, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. She was to figure it out on her own. And as she considered that the fawn was a replacement for the bottles, it clicked into horrifying place. A live animal.

Her whole body was stiff with tension, and she dared hope she was wrong. But... deer were always being killed for food. Was this different, truly? She knew the answer to that.

The fawn was a one-to-one replacement for the bottles. And all of the horror that came with it. Some part of her had already known the deer’s fate as soon as it had come tumbling into the clearing behind her grandmother. She looked for some emotion in Cliodhna’s face, some sympathy, some regret, anything, but her eyes were dark and distant, betraying no emotion or thought.

“Come, leanbh. Begin your breathing. Grasp the creature. Then scream. Every second you hesitate is a second stolen from Death. You can’t be afraid of yourself. This is how it’s done, how you learn control. You want that, don’t you?” Cliodhna looked down at her with something like disgust, though Regan knew she would deny it if questioned. Had she looked at him the same way? Even your father would be able to… “My control is flawless. I do not fear myself, for I fear nothing. In order to get there, you’re going to scream, and scream again, until you don’t flinch, or cry, or fuss. There is no place for emotion here, with us, or behind your scream. Feel what it does to you and do not fight it.”

Regan had committed to doing anything she could to gain purchase on what she was now. Some way to control the power she didn’t want. Some way to ensure she would never inflict cruelty or death unto others. A deer was not a person. Do no harm did not apply. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to accept that it would be a greater cruelty to do nothing at all – to wait until she killed someone, multiple someones, all because she wouldn’t submit to this necessary evil.

"Would you rather pretend this deer is a loved one?" She always danced around mentioning Regan's brothers. But was also keenly aware that she was not in that loved one category.

Regan swallowed, mouth still dry and numb, and slowly bowed her head into a reluctant nod. What could she say? Not refusal. She literally could not voice that. And not willingness or eagerness, which she did not possess. Regan could only march over to the fawn, which Cliodhna had set down and tethered to a branch. It lifted its small head, and a deep dread spread throughout Regan as she placed her trembling hands around the animal’s delicate neck. She couldn’t look at it, couldn’t meet its frightened gaze. Regan turned away, tears collecting behind her eyes.

“Do not look away. Regan.”

The sound of her name jolted her. So often it was a term of pseudo-endearment instead. “You’re asking me to kill it.” Regan strained, knowing each tear that fell across her cheek would be something to answer for shortly. She brushed her fingers under her eyes hoping to quell them. “You want me to – why does it have to be a living thing? How is this more effective than using bottles? Can I use the knife instead? I don’t– it’s cruel. Nothing should die like that.”

"Bottles simply shatter. They teach you almost nothing. You're sensible enough to know this. A living thing consists of blood, bones, tissue, all things you're well-versed in. But as much as you know, you don't yet know how it feels to have your scream force your way through life itself. You won't learn control until you understand just how much you're capable of."

Regan’s guts churned as she kept her hand on the fawn's neck. She could feel the animal’s tight muscles underneath her hand – the way they worked together as a bleat attempted to move from the creature's chest, to its trachea, to its mouth, and was finally loosed. She wondered if her own scream would feel similar. Maybe that was the point.

Emotion was not permitted. But how could Regan deny the shame and terror churning inside of her? It was there whether she refused it or not. Did Cliodhna really have her emotions so tightly locked up that she didn’t feel them at all? “I’m afraid.” She said, finally looking up at her grandmother with pleading eyes. “I heard what you just said, and I know I shouldn’t be. I mean, if this is going to work. But I’m afraid and I don’t think I can be like you. I don’t want to hurt the deer, or anyone, or anything.” She pictured scales in her head, a balance. A few deer on one side, and her brothers on the other. Her loved ones. She would still love them after this cruelty. The choice was clear and objective. It had to be.

Would Cliodhna force a scream out from her? What would happen if Regan had resolutely dug her heels in? If she even could? But she knelt by the fawn. It cowered from her, kicking up its feet and bucking in a frenzy, but she kept her grip on its throat. It hands were all the more firm as it became more frightened.

Its death could prevent a human death. Months ago, she would have refused to believe it. But she'd seen too much, knew too much. And felt far, far too much.

Regan swallowed. Her mouth was dry. This was the necessary way.

She and Cliodhna seemed to be in agreement about one thing: death by her scream was an inevitability if she didn’t get this under control quickly.

"I’m sorry.” Regan choked, wishing she could summon her doctor's equanimity now of all times, in front of her grandmother who had an allergy to any semblance of emotion. She could pretend. Act like the doctor that she used to be. With a pained sigh, Regan continued, looking the animal in the eyes. “Your internal organs are going to rupture, all of them at once. Your lungs will most likely be the first, given all of the space inside of them. Your bones may even splinter and then explode. It’s going to be excruciatingly painful, and you’re going to die.” The faun's dark eyes gave Regan no indication that it understood any of what she’d just said. She exhaled a deep breath, feeling it rattle and shake inside of her. She wasn’t sure she could do this, but the promises she'd made continued to press against that thought, saying yes, you can and you will.

She shot a quick, pathetic look at her grandmother, hoping the other woman wouldn’t see how wet her eyes and cheeks were. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She muttered. An apology for Cliodhna, an apology for the deer and an apology for herself. She couldn’t control her fear, couldn’t tighten her heart. Not enough.

Her other hand slid into place along the deer's sternum. The animal was warm; it felt like a furnace against her cold skin. She could feel its fast heart beating. It was afraid. She couldn’t stop crying, and all she could think of were her grandmother's black eyes burning into her. Regan sniffled, whispered the word sorry one last time, and screamed.

A deafening, rupturing wail that rattled her own ribs and did much worse to the animal she held.

It tore through the young deer, layer by layer, muscle by muscle. Even bone trembled and broke. She could feel it running through her fingers, for just a fraction of a second, before she was blinded by red. Blood and entrails and fur exploded from underneath her hands, spraying her. It smoked against her skin, and the pain of heme against her flesh made her scream anew.

But she had felt it. Underneath the horror and the shame and the repulsive guilt, she felt the vibrations of the scream traveling directly from her body into another vessel, working their way into each organ and each cell. She felt it start at the sternum, and then vibrate across the ribs, hitting the lungs. Rupturing them with enough force to split the skin and muscle. Mostly, she felt sick.

The smattering of white fur that used to be a tail, possibly the only intact bit of the faun left, smacked against her cheek. Regan collapsed down to where there was a living animal just a moment ago, sobbing as she saw the splinters of bone and toes and chunks of fur still stuck to skin. A large pile of viscera and unidentifiable innards sat inches from her face, still vibrating with the force of the sound. She had done that. She’d taken something whole and alive and with one scream reduced it to a quivering mass of organs. Regan could only stare at the ground. If her grandmother was saying anything, she couldn’t hear it. The blood burned, eating at her in every way, but it was deserved.

Finally, after what felt like a long stretch of silence, of the last remnants of the scream emptying her out, Regan stared down at her burned and blooded hands. For a moment, she wished she could have the same oblivion.

Her grandmother didn't allow for such contemplation.

"I will get the other one."

#writing #let's just do the WHOLE THINg

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