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lostloveletters · 3 months

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Give Me Shelter, The Night Is Dark (Vampire!Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Local superstition and a reclusive man offer you refuge when your parents grievously misstep in Sicily, putting your life in danger in more ways than one.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This incredibly self-indulgent gothic romance-esque idea came to me while I was half-asleep, and the time period is intentionally vague, but it’s not a modern setting (here's a little aesthetic tag for this fic). Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Canon-typical violence. Emotional manipulation. Vampirism, including non-consensual blood drinking and compulsion (in the context of it being an ability vampires possess and can use on humans). Sexually explicit content involving elements of bloodplay. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

You couldn’t remember what had brought your family to the village of Corleone, only that your father had promised you and your mother an extravagant Sicilian vacation. Three days of beachside paradise in Mondello, eating fresh seafood cooked to perfection and entertaining the antics of handsome men with scars that stood out like bolts of lightning against their tanned skin were hardly enough to sate your voracious appetite for the weeks of bliss you were promised.

Despite your attempts at bargaining to stay in Palermo on your own, your mother refused, insisting she’d be better off throwing you into shark-infested waters than alone with the men who came calling to your hotel. Some days of travel through the breathtaking Sicilian countryside later, you and your parents arrived in Corleone, a village that appeared all but frozen in time, as if decades had passed it by with no one any the wiser.

To your dismay, you found the selection of eligible men to spend your time with far more limited than in Palermo. The working young men were too tired from their labor in the fields or their trades to engage in foolish antics with a vacationing foreigner. The rest were mafiosi, as you gathered from the veiled comments and numerous euphemisms the older villagers used.

These elderly became your companions during your stay in Corleone, talking wildly with their weathered hands over coffee or wine. Filomena, a woman of nearly eighty years and fluent in English, lived in the house next to the one your family was renting. Her husband Gianni only left the house if absolutely necessary, and she considered him a burdensome hermit. Each morning, she fetched you to accompany her into town. Some days, you’d do little else than sit outside of a cafe on the sleepy main street, eating and drinking and gossiping.

Your Sicilian improved immensely in the near month you kept up with their chatter. Those women always had their ears to the ground, as far as knowing more about your father’s business in Corleone than you did. The vacation he promised you was little more than a gesture of confidence toward Don Manusco, a man notoriously difficult to meet directly with. That your father achieved this naturally generated interest in the village, as no one knew of him. When pressed for more information about your own family’s line of work, you answered what you knew, that your father invested, mostly in stocks, but occasionally in new business ventures.

You were privy to little else, much to the disappointment of your companions, who moved onto other topics of discussion. One woman’s son sought work in Milan and within three months of getting hired at a factory, married a Northerner, much to her displeasure. In contrast, Filomena’s daughter was cloistered elsewhere in the countryside, preparing to take her vows and become a nun.

Their superstitions, however, intrigued you most of all. A curse and blessing existed for nearly every conceivable situation. The most striking tale they spun regarded an abandoned villa about a mile past the rental house. Foreboding and hostile, its faded facade peeking out from thorny vines, it was once the envy of the village. At one point in time, though no one could agree quite when, the Don of another family lived there. He took in a strange young man, reclusive yet polite, wandering the countryside with two armed shepherds as bodyguards. He married a local girl, but the marriage ended tragically soon after the wedding. In a sudden blaze of fire and betrayal, she was killed. The strange man vanished not long after, and anyone associated with the villa—including the old Don Tomassino—were soon found dead or had disappeared altogether. Thus, no one dared approach it for fear of the curse surely cast upon the place.

Some of the gruesome murders in the vicinity of the villa could have been attributed to the tradition of violence Don Manusco carried on following Don Tomassino’s death. It didn’t explain the livestock dying of unusual causes, an older woman interjected. Even the land surrounding it was cursed, and the local shepherds knew better than to let their flocks graze nearby, explaining the abnormally tall grass and overgrown foliage that surrounded the villa.

Yet another woman claimed to have seen a demon or ghost in the form of a man wandering the villa’s grounds at night. Of course, she didn’t get close enough to take a good look, instead uttering Hail Marys as she ran into the local church to take refuge until her husband found her some time later.

Your mind drifted to the villa sometimes, this forbidden and mysterious monument to grief and superstition that seemed to cast a longer shadow over the village than the mafiosos who ran it. Like Don Manusco, who your parents were joining for dinner one evening, and Filomena insisted you join her and Gianni instead of eating alone.

The scent of stewing summer tomatoes with garlic and mouth-watering spices invited you inside the house, its windows open for hopes of cool breezes moving through. Gianni offered you wine and a simple antipasto spread of cheese and oranges to snack on while Filomena cooked dinner. Despite his reclusiveness, he somehow knew that your father’s dinner with Don Manusco involved more business than a friendly visit, the final chance for your father to seal what he hoped would be a lucrative deal with the mafia boss.

Two hours later, you sat across from Filomena at the small wooden table in their kitchen, filling your plate with the delicious meal she prepared. You ate silence while Filomena spoke, bickering with Gianni every now and then. As the sun set over Corleone, unease crept over you, though you chose to attribute it to the heat of the day and eating too quickly.

Until a commotion erupted up the street, almost deafening as it approached, finally arriving outside of Filomena’s house. Frantic Sicilian shouting mingled with rapid pounding on the front door startled you into dropping your fork. Filomena and Gianni shared a worried glance before both getting up from the table to answer.

Wailing.

Screaming.

Arguing.

All you found yourself able to do was sit in confused silence. When they returned to the kitchen with a few other locals, panic truly set in.

“You have to leave!” Filomena cried, pulling you out of your seat by your arm.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“Your father’s a fool–”

Gianni shook his head. “A dead fool–”

“Your father should have never brought you here if he were going to try to cheat Don Manusco!” an older woman said.

Another cursed. “Selfish bastard!”

“Go! As far from here as you can!” Filomena implored.

A hard push toward the back door was the extent of the help you’d receive from the villagers of Corleone.

Blood pounded in your ears, your heart beating in time with your feet against the uneven dirt path that nearly tripped you up in your desperate rush to the rental home. You opened the door, scrambling upstairs in a frantic half-crawl to reach your room.

You shoved clothes and essentials into a bag, hardly paying attention to what exactly you were packing, just knowing you couldn’t flee empty-handed and hope to rely on the goodwill of strangers.

In the kitchen, you grabbed what you could from the pantry and shoved everything into a wicker basket. With just that and your suitcase in hand, you clumsily ran across the uneven countryside roads, hoping to find somewhere to take shelter for the night. Every rustle of leaves and animal cry sent chills across your skin. Just when you felt hopeless for a place to hide, you saw the abandoned villa's high walls, overgrown with vines and bramble in the distance. Superstition be damned, it was better than dying at the hands of a mafioso.

The iron gate was closed, but not locked. You held your breath as you opened it, sending out silent thanks to the universe that it didn’t release some otherworldly screech and announce your presence. Hardly visible in the dead of night, the villa peeked out from beneath the plants that had overtaken it. Even from a distance, it appeared as if the building were hollowed out somehow. It remained your best bet.

Superstition offered you refuge, as masculine voices drifted above the villa’s high walls, the structure still sturdy despite the general state of disrepair.

“Should we go in?”

“You sound as much of a fool as that old man. That place is cursed. Even if she were in there, she'd be dead anyway.”

Their heavy, rushed footsteps against the rocky terrain fell silent after a few moments. You sighed in relief, allowing yourself to relax just the slightest bit. Until you glanced back at the villa again, a new sense of dread making your stomach turn at the prospect of having to go inside the place. While you didn’t believe all of the rumors you’d been told over the previous few weeks, being in its presence unsettled you.

Then again, feeling unsettled in an abandoned villa was preferable to whatever would happen if Don Manusco’s men got his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, you approached the shadowy building, hoping your luck wouldn’t run out when you got inside.

To your surprise, the interior wasn’t as poorly maintained as the exterior. The furniture betrayed the wealth of whoever lived there previously, though they’d seen better days. Dark wood scuffed or splintered. Dull fabrics that must have been rich violets or crimson upon their initial purchase.

You walked into the living room, freezing upon seeing lit candles around. Someone was living there after all.

“Hello? Is anyone–” you gasped upon seeing a man standing on the other side of the living room, partially obscured by shadows.

Even in the cover of darkness, his features rendered you speechless as he approached. Handsome seemed too pedestrian of a word to describe him. His raven hair fell across his forehead with a deceptive boyishness. Brown eyes, almost black as the night itself bore into your own. His skin wasn’t nearly as tan as the villagers you’d met, but you supposed someone who lived in such a place was wealthy enough to not have to partake in the grueling manual labor typical of the area, the strong Sicilian sun giving its residents a healthy glow which he lacked.

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

“The men who were outside before—I think they’re going to kill me,” you said, panic overtaking your senses as his face remained unmoved by your explanation. “Please, I didn’t know anyone lived here.”

“Why do they want to kill you?”

“I think my father tried to cheat Don Manusco. I don’t know all of the details, but if they don’t want to kill me, then they’ll probably—“ Your voice caught in your throat.

“You can stay.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow and find a way to get back to Palermo.”

He shook his head. “You have a vendetta out against you now. Getting back to Palermo so soon will be nearly impossible, especially if Manusco has allies there.” He watched in unreadable silence as hopelessness ate away at your resolve. “You can stay,” he finally repeated. “Don’t leave the villa. Not during the day, and especially not at night. You’ll be safe.”

“Thank you. I owe you my life.” You offered him your name, as a courtesy and as collateral. More valuable than anything else you carried with you, he could use it to betray you for his own gain whenever he wished. You prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Michael Corleone,” he said.

“Like the village.”

He smiled the slightest bit, his dark eyes shining an almost betraying crimson in the moonlight. Ethereal. That was the right word for him. “Yes, like the village.”

Your host led you upstairs, helping you with your meager belongings despite your insistence you could handle your small suitcase and a basket of food, which you left on the console table in the foyer. The villa had certainly seen better days, its plaster walls cracked, crumbling in some places. You would’ve used caution going up the stairs if Michael hadn’t been so confident as he ascended them.

He paused at the top of the stairs, glancing at each of the doors along the hallway. After a few moments, he seemed to settle on one, leading you to a dark bedroom, full of odd shadows that made you pause. It seemed otherwise better taken care of than the rest of the villa you’d seen up to that point.

“It’s just me here. I’m afraid I’m not the best homemaker,” he half-joked in response to your hesitation to enter the room.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s nice. I can’t thank you enough, Michael.”

He nodded. “I have insomnia, so you’ll see more of me at night than during the day. The cellar stays locked, but you can have the run of the place otherwise.”

You bid each other good night.

When he shut the bedroom door behind you, you collapsed onto the bed and cried into your pillow, both from heartbreak and exhaustion, until you fell asleep.

The following morning, you awoke to fresh bug bites on your arm–inflamed and itchy, though perfectly in line with each other, oddly enough. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and you supposed you’d rather deal with mosquito bites than whatever Don Manusco and his soldiers had in mind for you.

True to his word, Michael was nowhere to be found when you went downstairs to eat a breakfast of bread and hard salami. Again, not ideal, but you’d make do with what you brought with you. For the rest of the day, you explored the villa, acquainting yourself with your new albeit temporary home.

You found yourself with little to do to pass the time. Venturing out onto the surrounding grounds of the villa was hardly an option, most of it so overgrown you couldn’t take a proper walk. There were a few books in the house, but often you found your mind drifting to your parents, what their fate looked like and what could await you if Don Manusco found out where you were hiding. By the time you’d finally see Michael around in the evenings, you’d force yourself to stay up as long as you could to be in his company. Soon, your schedule nearly matched his nocturnal one.

Over the following weeks, you got to know Michael. At times, you couldn’t help but stare at him, but sometimes it felt as though you couldn’t do much else if you tried. He was a gracious host for how you imposed on him, showing concern for the bug bites you tried to hide from him. A good thing he noticed, as he brought you a cup of tea, a deep maroon color that he explained was a natural remedy from the village for the discomfort you were experiencing. A common occurrence that you’d been fortunate enough to avoid since arriving in Corleone.

“You’re not from around here either,” you said one night. “I can tell from your accent.”

“I’m from New York, but my father was born here,” he explained. “My last name is a mistake from when he immigrated.”

“Do you miss it?”

He was silent for some time, lost in thought before answering with a soft, “Terribly.”

“But you can’t go back.”

“No, I’m very sick. I wouldn’t survive the trip.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your curiosity getting the better of you when you asked, “What do you have?”

“What I have is incredibly rare, there’s no word for it. Sunlight puts me in excruciating pain, and my appetite is abnormal.”

“How long have you been sick for?”

“Years. More than you’d believe.”

“You know, everyone in the village thinks this place is cursed. If you just talked to them, then they’d understand what was going on and maybe be able to help.”

“I can’t be around people. It’s not safe for them.”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Are you contagious?”

He hesitated. “Not how you’d think.”

“No matter what you have, it’s not good to be alone,” you argued.

“You’re here now.”

“Only until it’s safe for me to go to Palermo and leave Sicily.”

He shook his head. “You won’t be able to leave. Not when a man like Don Manusco has a vendetta out against you,” he said, his intense gaze boring into you. Your chest grew tighter as he spoke. “This villa is the only place you’ll ever be safe.”

“Michael, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just know what he did to your parents…he and men like him have done to many others on this island, too.” Your silence perturbed him. He grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them gently, though his eyes seemed to blaze with fury. “I’m keeping you safe here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice nearly catching in your throat.

“Then what’s there to be afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s right, as long as you stay here.”

“I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed dismissively, not bothering to acknowledge your statement. You soon excused yourself to go to sleep, a sudden uneasiness settling in your stomach.

You awoke late into the afternoon the following day, judging by the amber sunlight that streamed through the broken shutters. Still, your limbs felt heavy, and your head pounded as if you’d hardly slept at all. A quick glance at your arm revealed twin bug bites on your wrist again, this time darker than the previous ones, leaving your skin tender to the touch.

Dizziness turned the room over when you sat up from the bed, and you nearly considered going back to sleep, if it weren’t for the hunger that ached in your bones.

You ventured down into the kitchen, relieved to find a pot of tea sitting out. You didn’t even bother reheating it, though the consistency was odd, thicker in its room temperature state. The texture didn’t deter you, as the more you drank, the better you felt, your dizziness and aches gone as the tea overflowed from the corners of your mouth and dripped down your chin, insatiable until there was nothing left. Wiping off your face, you went back up to your room and fell back asleep.

A knock on the door woke you up in the pitch black some hours later. You lit the candle on your bedside table before getting up to answer. You knew it was Michael, concerned about why you hadn’t joined him yet.

Just as you got up to answer, he opened the door, letting himself into your room–except it wasn’t your room. It was his, and you supposed he could enter whenever he wanted.

Frozen in place by his gaze alone, you stood still and silent as he approached, demeanor darker and more intense as his presence filled the room, as if his essence somehow intermixed with each breath you took. A citrusy sweetness with a bloodcurdling undercurrent of violence filled your lungs. Despite this, you felt no fear, but rather anticipation when he finally reached out and caressed your cheek, his hand freezing against your warm skin.

“Michael,” you whispered.

“Don’t fight me, sweetheart.”

And you couldn’t. Not even if you tried. His eyes took in your face with a softness that betrayed his fondness for you. His lips pressed against yours, a chaste kiss to start, but it proved to be insufficient for him, as he claimed your mouth with the fervor of a man long starved for affection. His desire for you tangible as you kissed him back, allowing his hands to roam your body above your nightgown until his fingers brushed your thighs, pushing the hem up to your hips.

He laid you back on the bed, ridding you of your panties and slipping his fingers between your folds. “Tell me how it feels,” he said, his lips against your skin. “Tell me everything.”

Before then, you would have died rather than admit it to him, but at his urging, the dam broke. Of course your thoughts of him weren’t always innocent. Some nights, when you were sure he was elsewhere, you touched yourself to the thought of him. The confession slipped from your mouth so quickly that shame couldn’t catch you, not when Michael pushed his fingers inside you, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, denying you any sensation but absolute pleasure.

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” he whispered, pressing desperate kisses into your neck. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me not to–”

Your whine interrupted his train of thought, and a knife-sharp pain jolted through you when he sunk his teeth into your throat, breaking the fragile skin. His fingers curled inside you, a moan clawing its way out of you as you came, ecstasy pulsing through your limbs in waves that threatened to drown you in it. Spots clouded your vision and breath evaded you, the poignant scent of copper mixed with your sex made your head spin.

“Michael, I–” You passed out, though you awoke later, curled up next to him, your body sore and more fatigued than ever. You winced when you tried to move your head, a dull ache coming from your neck. “What did you do?” you mumbled.

“Sweetheart?”

“To my neck.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, petting your hair. “I got carried away. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

“Me either,” you admitted.

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. From then on, he was ravenous, and like a woman possessed, you gave in to him every time. Nights with him blurred together as thoughts of escaping Sicily and the danger that waited for you outside of the villa walls were almost nonexistent.

Some time later, though you’d largely stopped keeping track of the days by then, you realized your food supply was running low. Michael would go out at night and get some for you if you asked, though he never revealed where exactly he went. Still unsure of your safety from Don Manusco, you figured the farm up the road would be a good place to swipe some fruit from the orchard and anything else they might have lying around and not exactly miss.

The sun felt especially harsh when you went outside. Each step brought about unimaginable fatigue that made your bones ache. You hardly made it halfway to the farm before you had to rest beneath a large tree’s shade to rest your tired limbs and eyes.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?”

You jolted awake, surrounded by a handful of elderly villagers from around the countryside. You recognized at least one of the older women as one of your old cafe companions in Corleone.

“I’m fine.”

The woman in question squinted at you. “Where do I know you from?”

“We’ve never met before,” you said, voice tight with panic. “I have to go. Goodbye.” You forced yourself up, using what little strength you had to return to the villa, ignoring their calls for you to wait. Exhaustion swept over you by the time you made it inside, promptly collapsing in the foyer. They had recognized you, and surely they had seen you retreat into the villa and were on their way to let Don Manusco know of your whereabouts. They’d be foolish not to with the price on your head.

Michael was nowhere to be found, and you worried that by the time you finally saw him that night, it’d be too late to tell him what transpired. Tears rolled down your cheeks as fear and guilt crept up on you. Your carelessness had put Michael in danger, too.

With no way of knowing how long it’d be until word got back to Manusco, you considered the layout of the villa, which you knew like the back of your hand, and the best place to hide if he or his men intruded in search of you.

In hindsight, the kitchen cupboard was a more obvious choice for a hiding spot, but it was the most your fatigued brain could come up with while you were panicked.

Your instincts had been right, though. The inevitable intrusion did come.

The voices that echoed through the foyer were the same ones from the night you first arrived in the villa. You kept a hand over your mouth, the other with an iron grip around the kitchen knife.

“Come on, Don Manusco isn’t angry with you. He just wants to talk,” one of the men called out.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” the other added. “He knows you didn’t have anything to do with your father’s schemes.”

You couldn’t take a chance on whether or not they were telling the truth.

Footsteps approached, growing louder with each passing second. You readied yourself for attack, until you heard a blood-curdling scream rip through the night and you dropped the knife in shock.

With all of the foolishness of your father, you opened the cupboard door. Blood pooled around the man’s head, a look of terror etched into his face, betraying his final thoughts. Your gaze lifted, and you stumbled backward, unable to comprehend the gruesome sight before you. If you hadn’t been watching Michael with your own eyes, you would have assumed an animal attack was responsible for the carnage at your feet. What more, after the initial shock wore off, an almost physical pull drew you to the spilled blood.

The villagers had been right. It wasn’t mere superstition, but reality, one more horrific than any of them could have fathomed. The unexplained murders, the livestock deaths, all by his hand. His illness a fabrication to conceal the true nature of his being, something unnatural that existed in the worlds between life and death with a hunger to match. He’d been feeding from you for weeks, allowing you to carry on believing lies. Of course you felt awful, constantly fatigued. You could only hazard a guess as to what was really in the tea you’d been drinking like a fiend.

You wished you could scream at yourself for your naivete, as if he’d help you out of the kindness of his heart and not expect something in return. Your willful ignorance of his odd behavior in exchange for refuge in the one place where you’d be safe from who you thought were the only men who wanted to harm you. But he saved you from Don Manusco and his men. He kept you alive. He could gain little from drawing out your death for so long. Unless…your eyes widened, and you looked at him in horror.

Michael spoke your name softly. “Do you understand now?”

“You–You’ve been making me like you.”

“I should have done it sooner. It’s the best way to keep you safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I guess not.”

He cupped your face in his hands, “Things won’t be that different. We’ll be together. No one will be able to hurt you.”

“How–How much longer until I’m–”

“As soon as tonight, if you’ll let me.” Sensing your hesitation, he pressed a bloody kiss to your forehead. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the urge to trust him, to commit to an eternity of all-consuming, reclusive violence with him. “I want to be with you. I want to be like you.”

His hands drifted down to your neck, his fingers digging into your pulse as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the half-healed wound he’d inflicted all those nights before. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

#the godfather #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader #the godfather x reader #michael corleone imagine #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather imagine #the godfather fanfic

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1004tyun-archive · 1 year

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❥ i love you. i want us both to eat well

✶ pairing: idol!taehyun x non idol! chubby reader

✶ summary: taehyun's coming to stay with you for the week and you feel it's time for a big change. but you don't realize it's an unneeded change until it's too late

✶ genres: angst, hurt/comfort with lots of smut at the end (as a treat!)

✶ warnings: reader has a bad relationship with food, intrusive thoughts, bulimia, negative self talk, brief mention of vomiting, mentions of weight, eating disorders, negative body image, praise kink, squirting, edging, face sitting, unprotected sex

✶ word count: 4.7k words

✶ a/n: i've noticed a general lack of chubby reader fics so i thought i'd do my part and write a hurt/comfort fic involving tyun ^_^ this was very comforting for me to write personally, but if any of the aforementioned warnings are triggering to you in any way, i don't recommend reading. i don't want any of you to get hurt or apply the very harmful things the reader does in this fic to your lives.

this fic is NOT endorsing disordered eating. i do not endorse nor support thinspo, body shaming, eating disorders, or hating your body, no matter your size. as a plus size person myself, i think it's important to love your body as it is and i hope this fic provides solace and comfort to those who have a bad relationship with food or their bodies. you're beautiful the way you are and i hope you're able to love your body the way taehyun loves your body in this fic <3

love you lots 🫶🏾 if you need anyone to talk to about this subject matter, my inbox and messages are always open x

It's a slow work day; slow, boring, and tedious.

And you're starving.

You forgot to bring your lunch with you so your measly meal of a granola bar and black coffee was nothing to write home about. You can't wait to get home and eat some real food while facetiming your lovely boyfriend.

On the way to your apartment complex, you see a gift shop with a TV playing compilations of idol dance challenges from Tiktok from the display window. You decided to stop and watch for a bit once you recognized one of the Taehyun's fellow group members. Sure enough, the next video that plays is one with Taehyun in it.

Oh, he looks so good. He's doing some kind of girl group dance with a couple of the group's members. The girls are dressed so cutely with perfectly manicured hair and nails and makeup. There's a voice in the back of your head that's saying things you don't want to hear, so you ignore it.

But with every step closer to your apartment, the voice grows louder and louder.

They look so much better with him than you ever could.

They're prettier and skinnier than you. You don't think you actually deserve him, do you?

He's probably cheating on you with one of those girls. Who could blame him? He's too good for you, you both know that.

There's a bad taste in your mouth by the time you get to your front door. Despite your brain doing everything it can to ruin your day, you decide to rummage through the fridge for some food anyway.

You're pretty good at keeping the fridge stocked when Taehyun isn't around, but as soon as you start assessing your options, your appetite starts to wane. You think back to those gorgeous female idols you saw on television, with their glamorous bodies.

Slender waists, rounded hips, lithe arms and legs, dainty hands, and long, silky hair.

You don’t look like that, you know you don’t.

But maybe you could if you tried a little harder.

Your phone ringing snaps you out of your spiraling thoughts. Seeing Taehyun on your phone screen immediately eases your pain.

"I saw you on TV today," you say.

"Oh yeah? Was I cool?"

"You were the coolest," you say with a smile.

"Did you eat?" he asks and your throat goes dry.

"Yeah, I went out to get something before I got home. Did you?"

"Mhm, I just got done eating dinner."

Taehyun looks a little antsy, like he wants to say something so you call him out on it.

"Everything okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, it's- Okay, I wanted to surprise you, but I can't keep it in. I finally have a break in my schedule so I'll be home all week starting next Sunday,"

"What? Baby, that's great news! I can't wait to finally see you. It's been too long! I mean, I know it's only been a week since we saw each other, but still!"

By the time you hang up, your heart is soaring. You get to stay with your boyfriend for a whole week! What sounds basic to some sounds like paradise to others, truly. The life of dating an idol is a very different world, to say the least.

You looked down at your stomach and frowned as you squeezed its flesh. You've put on some stress weight, no doubt about it. What would Taehyun think? Yes, you were chubby when he first met you and you're chubby now, but there's no doubt he would notice the weight you've put on recently.

He's going to be home in less than a week. What if he realizes he deserves better and he's been settling for you this whole time? Taehyun is a celebrity, he could have anyone he wants. So why you, of all people? You both know he could never go public with his relationship with you for privacy reasons, but maybe it wasn't just that.

Maybe he was ashamed to be seen with you.

As you go to bed later that night with an empty stomach, you recognize that something has to change.

So when the next morning comes, you decide to start with eating less and walking to work instead of taking public transit. You learned to appreciate the four mile walk there and back every day to appreciate the morning dew and the passing scenery as you listened to your favorite songs.

But it wasn’t enough. You weren’t losing weight quickly enough and the ideal version of yourself who lived in your head wasn’t matching your reflection in the mirror.

So you start going running every day after work. You run a couple of laps on the track at the community center near your workplace. You feel energized after working out so much, but damn, you're hungry. No matter how much your stomach growls, you wave off the voice telling you to eat and drink some cold water to satiate your hunger instead.

The next thing you know, it's D-Day. Taehyun is coming home tonight and you can't wait. You don't work weekends, but you keep up with your routine regardless. You walk to your workplace and then run your several laps around the track until you've sufficiently tired yourself out.

By the time you get home, you're able to shower, clean the apartment, and relax for a few hours.

You're watching a program about weight loss on your laptop when you get a call from Taehyun and immediately pick up.

“Me and the guys were thinking about getting dinner tonight. Wanna come?”

You're glad he can't see the discomfort on your face.

“No thanks, I’m swamped with work tonight.”

“Are you sure? We’re going to your favorite chicken place.”

“I’m sure, love. Thanks.”

“Okay, let me know if you want anything.”

It hurt a part of your soul to decline going to your favorite restaurant. You swear the savory, sweet and spicy crunch of that hot honey fried chicken had healing properties. But you have bigger things to worry about. You need to stay focused.

You fall asleep on the couch and startle awake when you hear the front door of your apartment clicking open.

“I’m home,” Taehyun calls from the entryway. His voice is followed by the sound of rustling plastic bags. You slide your laptop off your lap and give your boyfriend a quick kiss on the lips.

“Welcome home,” you say, then take a look at the plastic bags Taehyun is carrying in each hand. “What’s all this?”

“Some extras from dinner. I brought some stuff back for you, too.”

Your stomach twists. “Oh, honey you didn’t need to do that.”

“I never believe you when you don’t ask for anything,” he says with a laugh. “Anything you don’t finish you can take to work tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you smile but you feel like you’re dying inside. Why does he have to be so considerate? As nice as the gesture is, you’re not eating a single bit. You swear to yourself that you won’t.

As delicious as that food looks and smells, successfully resisting temptation feels better than that food could ever taste.

You brush off the gurgling of your stomach as you go through your nighttime ablutions.

It’s 4:00 AM when your cravings become too strong to ignore. The growling of your stomach grows louder, unbearably so.

You turn your head to check on Taehyun, he’s still fast sleep. Maybe this was the perfect time to do what you wanted to do.

You sneak off to the kitchen, grab the cold paper boxes of food and arrange them on your small dining table. Smelling and looking at the food isn’t the same as eating it, you tell yourself. There’s nothing wrong with smelling or observing the food, as long as you don’t eat it.

This should be easy…

Shouldn't it?

You black out hours later and the first thing you’re faced with is a multitude of empty takeout boxes. Two boxes of fried chicken, a box of garlic fries, steamed rice, and two apple mango hand pies. Foods that are usually your favorites yet all you could do was panic.

You start hyperventilating and your vision blurs as you stumble to the bathroom and kneel in front of the toilet, shoving your index finger down your throat and trying your hardest to remove any of the food you ate. After reaching deep enough, you gag around your finger and vomit, bile stinging your throat and tears filling your eyes. You empty your stomach and vomit until nothing but stomach acid comes up, the metallic taste coating your mouth.

"Y/N?" Taehyun asks from behind the door. "Are you okay?"

A string of drool hangs from your bottom lip and you've never felt more repulsed by yourself until now.

"I'm fine, just a little sick."

"I'm coming in—"

"—No! No, I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, honey, really. I'll see you later tonight, okay?"

"Okay, see you tonight." You can hear the doubt in his voice. It pains you to lie to him like this, but you know this would upset him. You gather enough strength to drag yourself up from the bathroom floor and start getting ready for work.

That was a close call. There's no way you can let that happen again. The binging, the vomiting, having Taehyun worry about you, any of it. If you were planning on continuing this, you had to be discrete about it, even if it meant lying to your boyfriend's face.

So you decide to stop eating altogether.

And at first, you feel fine.

You're able to get through the work day by chewing gum or drinking cold water to keep yourself awake. When Taehyun comes home with food or cooks for the both of you, you lie and say you already ate at work or you're not hungry.

And you know Taehyun senses that something is wrong, but you can't tell him. You could never tell him.

This wasn't going the way you expected it to.

You wanted to enjoy coming home from work and have Taehyun play your househusband for the week, but by the time you get home every night, you're so exhausted. You fall asleep on the couch, sometimes even mid conversation, and you wake up hours later with a pounding headache and a blanket thrown over you, courtesy of your sweet boyfriend.

And by the end of the week, you hardly have the energy to even stand up in the shower.

"Have a good day at work today," Taehyun says and gives you a kiss on the forehead at the door. That on its own gives you enough energy to make it through today.

You cross the crowded street, feeling normal, albeit a bit tired.

And then, out of nowhere, you feel like someone pulled the plug on you.

The next thing you see is the blurry ceiling of a hospital room, nothing but beige and speckles. You gasp like you’ve just come up for air and look around. You're connected to an IV and a heart rate monitor and, out of the corner of your eyes, you see...

"Y/N!"

Taehyun rushes to your side, taking your hand in his. Your heart is pounding when you see him. He looks so worried. He must've been so afraid for you.

"Y/N, why? Why didn't you tell me something was wrong? Why'd you do this to yourself?" he asks, standing tears in his eyes. Your heart sinks. There's no way he doesn't know how you got here.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He wasn't supposed to find out.

You were supposed to silently starve yourself until you became beautiful. Not worry him like this.

You failed. Your throat goes dry, rendering you unable to speak.

You just sit there silently and sob.

You’re discharged the following afternoon. Taehyun doesn’t speak to you the entire ride home and you feel like utter shit for it.

As you step into your shared apartment and kick off your shoes in the entryway, you decide to finally break the silence.

“Taehyun, I’m so sorry. You weren’t supposed to find out about this—“

“—Why? Why wouldn’t you want me to find out? They told me you passed out in the middle of the street! You could’ve gotten hurt! What if something serious happened to you and I never found out?”

You stand there in silence, tears filling your eyes. He’s never sounded this upset with you in the nearly two years you’ve been together. You could feel your heart shattering.

“Why’d you stop eating?”

The gravity in Taehyun’s voice makes your stomach drop. You need to sit down for this one.

You walk to the couch in the living room and Taehyun follows, sitting next to you.

“I starved myself because I wanted to be beautiful,” you say.

“You are beautiful.”

“But that’s not all. I wanted to be good enough, good enough for you.”

Taehyun looks at you, brows knit in concern. He takes your hand in his.

“What made you think that? Did someone say something to you?”

“No, no one said anything. It was all me. I kept seeing all those beautiful, successful female celebrities on TV and I-I wondered if you even felt good being seen with me, so I thought that… maybe if I stopped eating, I would be better for you.”

You feel so ashamed by even admitting this and, when you’re able to finally look at Taehyun, he looks devastated, like you admitted the greatest of sins to him.

“I never want you to say that again,” he says, sounding deeply hurt. “There’s no way you could be any more better for me. You’re perfect, Y/N. I can’t imagine being with anyone else except you. I've never been ashamed to be seen with you. You know that, don't you?"

Taehyun cups your cheek with his hand and it takes everything for you to not burst into tears.

“Don’t you?” he repeats softly and that drives you over the edge. “You know there’s nothing you could do to make me ashamed of you, right?”

You cry and he wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

“Not even now?” you ask between sniffles.

“No, honey, not even now,” he leans in and kisses your cheeks. “I don’t want to lose a single ounce of you.”

He kisses your face all over and when he kisses you on the lips, you smile into it. This is the happiest you've been all week and the most relief you've felt in a while. You feel so embarrassed for the tears that continue to slide down your cheeks, but Taehyun just wipes them away and kisses you.

It's when he kisses your ear that you feel a sudden shift in the mood. He nibbles your earlobe and his lips drag down to kiss down your jaw. Your breath hitches and you hold back a moan.

"Don't hold back," he whispers into your ear. "Let me know how good I make you feel."

You sigh as you feel his lips move to your neck and he bites and licks the flesh, leaving a few hickies in his wake. You hold onto him tighter, the fabric of his shirt balled up in your fist.

Taehyun's hands move to your hips and before you know it, you're sitting on his lap, straddling him. You're a little hesitant, not putting all of your weight on him.

Taehyun grabs your hand and places it on the center of his chest. His heart is pounding against your palm and it causes your own heartbeat to quicken.

“Feel that? Only you can do that,” he says. He takes your hand and drags his down his body, down his toned chest, past his chiseled abs, all the way down to his cock, already halfway hard in his sweatpants.

“This is all you, too,” he whispers and your breath catches in your throat when you feel his cock twitch under your fingers.

“Oh my god…” you say, shuddered and breathless.

Taehyun grips your hips hard and pulls you down so your full weight is on him and you grind on his clothed bulge. He's never been this rough with you before, and it's giving you butterflies. You roll your hips and you revel in his hands roaming your thighs, your ass, and your waist.

You return to each other's lips like a magnet to metal. You drag your tongue across Taehyun's bottom lip and he parts his lips so you can slot your tongue into his mouth.

You pull away panting, your lips shimmering with spit. You squirm, wanting to say exactly how you feel but the words are stuck in your throat as you look upon your boyfriend, his hair tousled, lips glossy, and eyes dark.

"What is it, honey? Use your words," he says, looking deep into your eyes.

"I-I need you so badly, I can’t take it."

"Then let's tend to that need right now," he says with a smirk. You head to the bedroom and you're surprised when Taehyun pushes you onto the bed and hovers over you, drinking in every inch of your body.

"God, you're so beautiful," Taehyun says. "No one else gets to see this except me."

He peels off his clothes, down to his boxers and he slowly undresses you, peppering kisses all over your body. He presses a thumb to your now dampened panties and watches with sparkling eyes as he rolls your panties off of you.

"Wait, my turn," you grab at the waistband of his boxers and the corner of his lips turn up into a smirk.

"Be my guest," he says confidently. Your hands tremble a little bit as look down at his clothed cock. You notice a damp spot and that only serves to make you wetter. You slowly pull the boxers down past his thighs and his hardened cock springs free. He kicks his boxers off and immediately comes back down to the bed to kiss you, his cock resting against your soft stomach.

He slides his thick cock against your aching pussy and you shudder when you feel a vein rub against your clit.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers sweetly. “Can’t wait to be inside of you, honey... But before that, I need you to promise me something."

"Hm?"

"Promise me that you'll eat when you're hungry and take care of yourself."

You blink, confused at the sudden 180.

"What?" you ask. Suddenly, you're jolted by Taehyun slapping his cock against your clit with a wet thwack. Your back arches off the bed and your eyes widen.

“Promise me or I won’t fuck you.”

You gulp and you can feel yourself blushing all the way to the tips of your ears.

“I-I promise,” you say before Taehyun slaps his cock against your clit repeatedly, causing you to squirm and moan.

“Promise what?”

“I-I promise I’ll eat.”

“And?”

“I promise I’ll take care of myself,” you whimper. "I promise I'll treat myself better."

Taehyun gives you a cute, boyish smile.

"Good," he leans down to rest his forehead against yours and kiss you. You feel the head of his cock poke and rub against your entrance and you whine. He pushes into you and you gasp, grabbing onto his arms to steady yourself as he slowly enters you, inch by inch. You clench around him tightly and he sighs.

"You feel amazing," he groans. "You okay?"

"Mhm, feels so **good," you moan and Taehyun leans down to kiss you again. He buries himself deeper into you until he bottoms out and you wrap your legs around his torso, shuddering at the sensation of him buried so deep inside of you. He pulls out all the way then sinks all the way back in to fuck you at a fast, even pace. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, relishing just how full he makes you feel.

"Mmm, I-I'm close, 'm so close," you mewl, clenching hard around Taehyun's cock.

“Cum for me,” he breathily demands as he reaches down to play with your clit, pleasure shooting through your body like lightning.

Your orgasm rips through you like nothing you'd ever felt before. Taehyun is relentless, continuing to fuck you as you ride the waves of your orgasm.

"That's it, that's it," he coos. "So good, baby." He swipes his thumb against your clit quickly as he thrusts into you, urging you to cum again. You feel a different kind of pressure building in your lower stomach, one that you can't stop from releasing until it's already happened. The sheets underneath you are soaked and your entire body heats up as you realized what you've done.

"Wow," Taehyun says, astonished. "I've never seen you do that before. Fuck, you're so wet."

He mercilessly pistons in and out of you, sweet moans spilling from his mouth as he cums inside of you. He buries his face in your shoulder and you can feel his lips curl into a smile.

“Hear that?” he asks.

Through the haze of your post-orgasm, you can hear the sound of wet skin slapping against skin as Taehyun lazily ruts into you, rolling his hips against yours.

“So messy… you made such a big mess all over my cock,” he babbles, breathless and impressed. You’re shocked to feel his cock twitch inside of you when he says that.

Taehyun slowly pulls out of you and you whine, already missing the presence of his cock inside of you. He rolls over next to you so that you’re laying shoulder to shoulder on the bed.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, your breathing still ragged from just moments ago.

“Come here,” he says. “I want you to do that on my face next.”

“Taehyun!” you gasp. You don’t remember him being so filthy like this before. He’s had his flirty and handsy moments in the past, but those were nothing compared to this side of him.

He motions for you to come straddle him and you’re immediately seized with nervousness.

“Don’t be shy, love,” he says. “Or do I need to get you over here myself?”

“Okay, okay,” you prop yourself up on your elbows and slowly inch yourself closer toward Taehyun until you’re straddling his waist.

“Good girl, now put your thighs on either side of my chest.”

This is the first time he’s ever called you a good girl and honestly? You want him to say it a million more times. A tingle goes down your spine as you follow his instructions, maybe he should boss you around like this more often.

You feel more exposed than ever as you just barely hover over his face. You’ve never done anything in this position before, your heart is racing out of excitement and worry.

“Are you sure you’re okay with doing this?”

“Mhm,” Taehyun says. “I’ve been dreaming of doing this for a while now, actually.”

“But what if I hurt you? I don’t wanna put too much weight on you and—“

“—Y/N, you’re thinking too hard about this.”

“I know,” you say. You squeak when you feel Taehyun press a kiss to your pussy.

“Trust me,” he says softly and your heart melts. He reaches a hand up to play with your pussy, fingers gliding around your folds. “I wish you could see this. Everything about you is so pretty, Y/N.”

You could say the same thing about him. There’s something about seeing Taehyun lie there on his back, dark brown hair sticking to his forehead and his big, brown eyes made darker by his dilated pupils that made him look angelic.

“Lower yourself down on my face, good girl.”

Again with the good girl. Does he know he can make you do anything just by calling you that?

You take a deep breath and lower yourself down onto his face and your breathing becomes ragged the moment you feel the flat of his tongue against your pussy.

His hands come up to grip your thighs and hips. You bite your bottom lip to contain your moans as Taehyun goes to work on your pussy, tongue sliding in and around your folds and the ridge of his nose bumping against your clit. It feels so good, better than you ever could have imagined.

You feel his tongue slide into your pussy and your hands fly to the headboard, gripping tightly as you gasp and moan.

“Fuck, Taehyun…!” you exclaim. He moans against your pussy and the vibrations push you closer to the edge. As he makes out with your pussy from this position, it’s so impossible to hold back. You carefully grind yourself against his tongue and before you know it, you’re seeing stars as your back arches and you cum hard, thighs trembling and hips rocking back and forth at a steady rhythm as you ride out your orgasm.

“S-Sorry!” you stammer as you lift your hips to allow Taehyun to come up for air, but you’re shocked when he pulls your hips back down and gives your core a few long licks and swirls his tongue around your clit. Your thighs clench and you whimper from the overstimulation. When he finally taps your thighs to indicate that he’s done, you pull off of him, straddling his waist.

“You taste so fucking good, my love,” he mumbles, chest heaving as he looks at you with half lidded eyes and the bottom half of his face wet and shimmering from your juices. He looks so fucked out, like he was the one who was just eaten out like a man starved. “You put every fruit on this planet to shame.”

"Stop, you're making me blush," you say with a shy chuckle.

"Don't get shy now, you were just riding my face a few second ago." You both laugh and Taehyun sits up and rests his hands on your soft waist. He gives you the softest smile and looking up at you with those beautiful brown eyes and that's when it hits you.

You love this man, much more than words could ever describe.

You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"I love you," Taehyun whispers into your skin and holds you tighter. You melt into his embrace, never wanting to leave from his arms or this moment. You wish you could live in his arms.

It's not until both you and Taehyun's stomachs start growling that the moment is ruined. You pull away from the embrace and look at each other with wide eyes and erupt into laughter.

"Guess we should get something to eat, huh?" Taehyun asks.

"Yeah, I guess so," you say, still giggling.

"Why don't I go run us a bath and you order our meal for tonight?"

"Sounds good to me."

You part with a kiss and, even though he's just in the next room over, you're so overcome with love for him. You get teary eyed as you browse your go-to delivery app.

In that moment, you're so thankful for his love, thankful you have each other.

#taehyun fic #taehyun oneshot #taehyun x reader #txt smut #txt fic #crystal's fics #terry bear 🐻‍❄️❤️‍🔥

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