Latest Posts by s1llygo0s3 - Page 3

OOHHH FUUBLBLBLBLB

"we don't have girl talk, we have creature talk," my roommate Julia just said while rolling on the floor, "put that on your fucking tumblr, they'll love that shit"

hey followers. have you ever wanted to know how it feels to be inside a bag of cornflakes

ME 'N THE DEVIL - THE SALESMAN

pairing: salesman x bottom male reader

synopsis: A story of obsession and longing, where one man's desperate need for love traps another in a web of fear, desire, and the haunting promise of safety that feels anything but safe.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, kidnapping, drugging, blood, reader's boyfriend is an abusive bitch, death, dubcon, forced submission, breading, cream pie, dead dove do not eat.

word count: 4.1k

A/N: requested by 🥀 anon (link). i don't think i did enough justice to this amazing prompt sksksjsj

The bar was nearly empty that night—just how you preferred it. The soft hum of the jukebox played a tired old rock ballad, the kind that felt heavy with nostalgia, though you couldn’t place why. The faint clink of glassware punctuated the quiet, as the bartender cleaned glasses with the same rhythmic monotony they’d perfected over years.

You sat hunched over the counter, fingers curling loosely around your glass of whiskey. The amber liquid reflected the dim, golden glow of the bar lights, casting distorted shadows against the wood.

“And then he…” You trailed off, swallowing against the lump rising in your throat. You stared into the glass, as though the answer to your pain might be hiding somewhere in the depths of the drink. “He called me a waste of space.”

The words hung in the air, raw and shameful. Your voice wavered, and you fought the urge to cry.

“Like I don’t already feel like one most days,” you mumbled, your lips pressing into a bitter line.

The bartender paused their wiping to nod, their expression one of quiet sympathy. But the gesture felt empty, rehearsed even. They probably heard stories like yours a hundred times a week—drunken tales of bad lovers, broken hearts, and bruised egos. Still, you pressed on.

“He doesn’t just yell,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Sometimes… he hits me. But he always says he’s sorry after, and I…” A hollow, bitter laugh escaped you, cutting through the thick air. “I keep forgiving him. Like a goddamn idiot.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you and the bartender. Their eyes flicked to the clock, their discomfort palpable. You couldn’t blame them. Who wanted to hear a stranger’s misery, especially one they couldn’t fix?

“Sounds like he doesn’t deserve you.”

The voice startled you—smooth, confident, and close enough to make you stiffen. It came from your left.

You turned your head, blinking at the man who had somehow slipped onto the stool beside you without you noticing. He was striking, his sharp features framed by slicked-back hair that glinted faintly under the dim bar lights. His suit was tailored to perfection, charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes that hinted at wealth and precision. But it was his eyes that caught you most. They were piercing, their intensity almost predatory, like they saw right through you.

“Excuse me?” you asked, your surprise laced with suspicion.

The man smiled, and it was the kind of smile that could melt the edges of even the hardest heart. It was warm, practiced, and just shy of charming.

“You deserve better,” he said, his tone soft but sure. “That much is obvious.”

You frowned, instinctively pulling back a little. The comment was unexpected, and you didn’t know how to take it. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet.” He leaned back slightly, casual and self-assured, like he belonged in every space he entered. “But I couldn’t help overhearing. You deserve better than what you’re settling for.”

The directness of his words left you flustered. You hesitated, unsure whether to be defensive or grateful.

“You don’t even know me,” you muttered, a hint of challenge in your tone.

He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “Don’t need to. Some things are obvious.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, searching for some sign of an ulterior motive. But his face betrayed nothing except an odd mix of calm and curiosity. Finally, you turned back to your drink, muttering under your breath, “Bold of you to assume you know my life.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m wrong,” he countered smoothly.

The corners of your mouth twitched despite yourself.

The next time you saw him, you were back at the bar, nursing yet another drink after another brutal argument with your boyfriend. The whiskey burned less this time, your tolerance rising in step with your misery.

You’d been thinking about the man from the other night more than you cared to admit—his sharp wit, his confidence, the way his presence had made you feel seen in a way that was both comforting and unnerving.

When he appeared again, sliding onto the stool beside you like he belonged there, your heart skipped a beat.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting, as if you were old friends.

“Something like that,” you muttered, your head low. You didn’t want to spill your heart out again—not tonight.

But he had a way of drawing you out. His questions were easy, his comments sharp but never cutting. Before you knew it, you were talking again—about nothing and everything. About the little annoyances of your day and the bigger cracks threatening to break you apart.

He listened, really listened, and offered thoughts that were insightful without being overbearing. He even made you laugh—a genuine laugh, something you hadn’t done in weeks.

By the time you realized how much time had passed, the bar was closing, and the two of you were walking out together.

The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint smell of rain. He walked you to your car, his presence steady and reassuring beside you.

“You know,” he said as you reached your door, his voice lower now, almost intimate, “you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You looked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting, and for a moment, you felt like he was seeing parts of you you’d tried to hide even from yourself.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, unsure how else to respond.

As you climbed into your car, you caught the way he looked at you through the window—like you were something precious, something he couldn’t quite have but desperately wanted.

The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. And for a fleeting moment, you wondered what it might be like to let him have you.

The man couldn’t get you out of his head. You consumed him, haunted his thoughts, and stirred something primal in him. But there was one obstacle standing in his way: your sorry excuse of a boyfriend.

He watched from the shadows, studying the man who dared to hurt you. The bruises you tried to hide, the way your voice cracked when you spoke of him—it was enough to fuel The man’s resolve.

The next time he saw you at the bar, he smiled warmly and ordered you another drink. You didn’t notice the way his hand lingered over your glass for just a moment too long, or how the edges of your vision began to blur shortly after you finished it.

When you woke, you were in a dark room. The smell of dust and old wood filled your nostrils, and the faint sound of classical music played from a record player in the corner.

Your wrists were tied to the arms of a chair, the rope biting into your skin. Across from you, your boyfriend sat in a similar chair, thrashing and screaming into the gag that muffled his words.

“What the hell—?” you began, your voice trembling.

“Good evening.”

The man stepped into view, his sharp grin cutting through the dim light. He was impeccably dressed, as always, his hands clasped behind his back.

“What’s going on?” you demanded, panic rising in your chest.

“It’s simple,” he said, his tone calm. “You’re going to play a game.”

On the table between you and your boyfriend sat a revolver, its gleaming barrel a stark contrast to the grimy room.

“Russian roulette,” The man explained, picking up the gun and spinning the cylinder with practiced ease. “One of you walks out of here. The other… doesn’t.”

Your boyfriend screamed behind his gag, his eyes wild with terror. You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “No! I won’t do it!”

“Oh, but you will,” The man said, his smile never wavering. “Because you want to live. And deep down, a part of you wants him to pay for what he’s done to you.”

The man placed the revolver on the table, spinning the cylinder with a flick of his wrist. The ominous cl-click of the mechanism echoed in the room, setting your teeth on edge. He looked between you and your boyfriend, his grin widening as if he relished your fear.

“Let’s begin,” he said, picking up the gun. His movements were deliberate, almost casual, as if this were no more than a game of cards.

“You’re not rolling the barrel?” you questioned in shock, staring into his eyes, which seemed devoid of any emotion.

“What’s the fun in that?” he merely grinned, while adjusting his cufflinks.

He pointed the revolver at you first.

Click.

The sound was deafening, despite the empty chamber. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs as you stared down the barrel of the gun.

The man chuckled softly, as if entertained by the way your shoulders heaved with each shaky breath. “Nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

He turned the gun toward your boyfriend.

Click.

Your boyfriend thrashed in his chair, muffled cries spilling through the gag as he shook his head violently. You could feel his terror radiating across the small room, mingling with your own.

“I’d almost feel bad for him if he wasn’t such a waste,” The man mused, spinning the cylinder again with deliberate slowness. The sound of the metal grinding against itself sent a chill through your entire body.

The gun swung back to you.

Click.

You flinched, tears spilling down your cheeks as your vision blurred. Your mind screamed at you to move, to do something, but you were frozen, your body paralyzed by fear.

The man hummed a classical tune softly under his breath, tapping the side of the gun like he was debating his next move. His eyes flicked between you and your boyfriend, finally landing on the latter.

“Let’s see if he’s feeling lucky.”

He raised the gun again, pointing it between your boyfriend’s wide, bloodshot eyes.

Click.

Your boyfriend screamed into the gag, thrashing so violently that the chair scraped against the floor. Sweat dripped down his face as his muffled cries turned into guttural, animalistic wails of desperation.

The man sighed, feigning disappointment. “Oh, the suspense is killing me,” he said, the grin on his face making it clear that he was enjoying every second.

The revolver spun again, slower this time. You heard every metallic grind as it came to a stop, and your stomach lurched.

This time, the barrel swung back to you. The man pressed the gun against your cheek, the cold metal biting into your skin.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re terrified,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, like a lover’s confession.

Click.

You gasped audibly, your eyes darting to his. He stared back at you with a manic glint, his grin splitting wider as though your anguish was his favorite song.

Without warning, he turned the gun back to your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend screamed, shaking his head violently, tears streaming down his face. He made a muffled plea through the gag, words you couldn’t make out but understood well enough: he was begging.

The man tilted his head, feigning consideration. “I wonder what your last thought is right now. Regret? Fear? Or maybe it’s anger… at yourself for being such a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

He pulled the trigger.

BANG!

The sound of the gunshot ripped through the room, leaving your ears ringing. Blood sprayed across the table and onto your face in hot, sticky droplets. Your boyfriend’s head snapped back violently before slumping forward, the rope keeping his body upright as blood poured from the jagged hole in his forehead. His body twitched once, then fell still.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, burning into your nostrils. Your stomach churned as you stared at the lifeless shell of the man who had once called you his.

You should’ve felt horror, revulsion, or even guilt. But somewhere deep down, a small, twisted part of you felt… relief. Relief that it was finally over, that he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

The man stepped closer, crouching in front of you and gently brushing a blood-spattered lock of hair from your face. His touch was uncomfortably tender, a stark contrast to the carnage around you.

“You’re free now,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. You stared at him in shock, your mind a haze of terror and conflicting emotions.

Before you could process what had happened, darkness crept in once more.

When you woke, it was to the dim light of dawn filtering through your curtains, casting soft, golden rays across your room. Everything felt disjointed—your body ached in places you couldn’t explain, and your mind was swimming in a haze of fragmented memories. For a few blissful seconds, you thought it was just a nightmare, a grotesque figment of your imagination brought on by too much alcohol and too little sleep.

But then you noticed the faint metallic scent still lingering in the air.

Sitting up, you looked down at yourself. Your clothes were rumpled and clung uncomfortably to your skin, but it was the faint smudge of red near your collar that made your stomach drop. You didn’t want to believe it. You stumbled to your feet, each step heavy with dread as you made your way to the laundry hamper.

And there it was—a bloodstained shirt.

The sight hit you like a punch to the gut, your breath hitching as the reality of it all came crashing down. It wasn’t a nightmare. It had happened. The screaming, the gunshots, the blood—it was all real.

You threw the shirt into the deepest corner of the hamper and slammed the lid shut, as though that could contain the memories clawing their way to the surface.

For days, you couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t function. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw flashes of it: his twisted grin, the spray of blood, your boyfriend’s lifeless body slumping forward. Guilt and relief warred within you, an impossible combination that left you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, you realized you had to do something. You couldn’t keep drowning in your own mind. So, you decided to rebuild.

You poured what little savings you had into opening a small bakery, a cozy place tucked into a quiet corner of town. It became your sanctuary, a space where you could channel your pain into something productive. Kneading dough, shaping pastries, and watching loaves rise in the oven—it was simple, grounding work that gave you a sense of control when everything else felt so chaotic.

The bakery quickly became a modest success. Locals loved the fresh bread and the warm, inviting atmosphere you worked so hard to create. For a while, you almost believed you could have a normal life again.

But then he walked in.

It was an ordinary afternoon. The scent of freshly baked sourdough filled the air, and sunlight streamed through the shop’s front windows, casting a warm glow across the wooden countertops. You were arranging a tray of croissants when the bell above the door jingled.

Looking up, your heart stopped.

There he was, standing in the doorway as if he belonged there, his sharp features and piercing eyes unmistakable. He was dressed as impeccably as ever, his suit perfectly tailored and his smile disarmingly casual.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” he said, approaching the counter with an air of ease that made your skin crawl.

Your hands trembled as you wiped them on your apron, trying to steady yourself. “What… what are you doing here?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away, instead glancing around the shop with an almost appreciative expression. “Just passing through,” he said finally, as if that explained anything. He slid a few bills across the counter. “A few loaves of sourdough.”

Your fingers fumbled as you grabbed some fresh loaves and wrapped them in parchment paper, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. You avoided his gaze, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move.

When you handed him the loaf, your hands brushed for the briefest moment, and you pulled back like you’d been burned. His smile widened, his eyes glinting with something dark and unreadable.

“Thanks,” he said, his tone light and polite, as though this were just a normal interaction.

He turned and walked out without another word, the bell jingling softly in his wake.

As you closed shop for the evening, flipping the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED," a deep sigh escaped your lips, the weight of the day melting off your shoulders. It had been one of those relentlessly busy days where time blurred—an endless parade of smiling customers asking for pastries, loaves, and the occasional custom order that had you juggling more than your two hands should allow. The familiar ache in your back and flour dusting your sleeves were reminders of how hard you’d worked. But as the quiet settled in, so did a sense of peace.

For once, your mind wasn’t completely consumed by thoughts of him. It was a rare reprieve, the memories and fears receding like the tide, leaving you with something close to calm. You held onto that feeling tightly, as though letting it slip away might invite the darkness back.

After locking the door and slipping the keys into your pocket, you stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring at the fading sunlight painting the horizon in soft hues of orange and pink. The thought of going straight home to your empty apartment felt suffocating—too quiet, too lonely, too much room for your thoughts to spiral.

A gentle breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faint scent of grass and distant flowers, and an idea bloomed in your mind. The park. It had been weeks since you’d allowed yourself the luxury of just… being. You needed the fresh air, the open space, the sounds of the world moving on around you. Maybe, just for a little while, you could convince yourself that everything was normal.

And then you saw him.

He stood on the sidewalk, holding the bread that he had bought from you for a moment before deliberately letting them fall to the ground. Then, with calculated cruelty, he ground it under his heel, the parchment paper tearing and the loaves crumbling into pieces. A group of homeless people nearby looked on, their gazes hungry and desperate, but he didn’t so much as glance at them.

Instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.

That grin spread across his face again, wide and manic, his teeth gleaming in the afternoon sun. It wasn’t a smile of kindness or humor—it was a promise. A reminder.

Your stomach twisted, and you stumbled back, your breathing ragged. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the message was clear: you weren’t free of him.

Not yet.

That night, you awoke with a start, your senses assaulted by the soft, flickering glow of candlelight. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements hypnotic and eerie, the faint scent of wax and smoke filling the air. Your heart pounded as you realized you weren’t in your bed. The room was unfamiliar—opulent, in a hauntingly old-fashioned way. The furniture was dark wood, the drapes heavy and velvet, the atmosphere suffocatingly intimate.

And then you saw him.

He was standing over you, his silhouette bathed in the golden light of the candles. His suit was pristine as always, his tie slightly loosened, and his sharp features softened just enough to be disarming. But it was his eyes that held you captive, their intensity pinning you in place like prey caught in a predator’s gaze.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and velvety, carrying a dangerous edge of satisfaction. He crouched beside the bed, his movements deliberate and smooth, his presence overwhelming. “Good. I was starting to think you’d sleep through the best part.”

Your breath hitched as his hand came up to your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that felt utterly at odds with the situation. His touch was cold, yet it left a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn’t help but flinch.

“You can’t run from me,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with an unyielding certainty. “I’ve been patient. I’ve given you space. But you belong to me, and it’s time you understood that.”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. You hated how vulnerable you felt, how powerless you were under his gaze. His thumb brushed a tear away, his touch almost reverent, and he smiled—a soft, bittersweet smile that only made you feel more trapped.

“I adore you,” he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Every moment, every thought, it’s all been for you. Don’t you see? I’ve done everything for you. And now, you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours. The kiss was messy, desperate, and all-consuming, like he was trying to claim every part of you at once. His hands cradled your face, his grip firm but not painful, as if he were afraid you might disappear if he let go.

You hated yourself for it, but you kissed him back. Your body betrayed you, a spark igniting deep within you that you couldn’t extinguish. His passion was intoxicating, pulling you under like a riptide, and for a moment, you forgot everything else—your fear, your anger, your confusion.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was hot against your skin, his forehead resting against yours. “You’ll be safe with me,” he murmured, his voice heavy with conviction. “Forever.”

His words sent a chill through you, not because you doubted him, but because you believed him. There was no escaping him—not his obsession, not his control, not the twisted connection that bound you to him.

Deep down, in the parts of yourself you didn’t want to acknowledge, you knew he was right.

His hands slowly trailed down to the hem of your pants, tugging them off. The cool breeze hit your thighs, forming goosebumps along the soft skin– making you shiver with a mix of delight and fear.

He pressed forehead, slowly inching down to your lips, pulling you in once more, as he lifted you in his arms completely.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he cooed whilst sliding your boxers down, revealing your throbbing erection.

You whimpered at the praise as he brought his hand to your chin to make you face him. His eyes– which previously felt devoid of having any human emotion, were now different. You couldn’t place exactly what it was.

As he pulled you into another searing kiss, one of his fingers prodded at your exposed hole, wet with lube. You yelped at the sudden intrusion, only to be silenced with another kiss.

He slowly pushed his finger in, followed by another, and then another. Three digits were slowly pumping in and out of you, as you held on to the man’s already crumpled shirt for some sense of balance.

When he deemed that you had been prepped enough, he slowly removed his fingers, and replaced them with his hardened length (you hadn't noticed him taking his pants off–oh well).

He pushed the tip in, making you throw your head back, and an almost pornographic moan leaving your lips.

The man let out a low groan,you were so tight that it seemed like your hole was sucking him in. When he bottomed out, you took few deeps breaths, but before you could say anything, he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in.

Your eyes went to the back of your head, jaw going slack. His hands were holding your legs up in such an angle that he was hitting your prostate with every single thrust.

Your hole clenched around his length, almost making it hard for him to move– but he seemed to manage. He fucked into with reckless abandon, marvelling at your pretty sounds– they were angelic to his ears.

Soon, you felt your orgasm consuming you like a raging waterfall; but the man wasn’t finished. He rammed into you even harder than before, the overstimulation making your brain go fuzzy.

Eventually, his thrusts stuttered, and he spilled his load into you– painting your insides a pearlescent white.

You huffed, feeling filled to the brim as he slowly placed you back onto the bed. The exhaustion made sleep consume you once more.

“You’re mine now, little dove– and I’m never letting you go.”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

musk is going to die in a Tesla explosion in 6 months after sticking his nose where it doesn't belong and we will never get a conclusive answer on whether it was a CIA car bomb or just a normal Tesla malfunction

you have to outlive donald trump

we must protect archive of our own at all costs

Reblog daily for health and prosperity

Reblog daily for health and prosperity

just remembered i can write instead of doing missing assignments- drop prompts below or i will be stewing up an absolutely devious fic

UC or ER?

“ say it’s big but you take it. ride, cowgirl. “

thinking about riding cowboy!logan…

Riding cowboy!logan means having Logan’s eyes flick over inch of you as you try to take every inch of him. His hands settled on your already-quivering thighs. His dog tags jingling between your pecs. “Can’t do it, Lo.” You mumble to him embarrassedly as you struggle to lower yourself down onto his thick cock.

Logan lets out a short scoff but that closed-lipped smirk graces his face anyways. “Such a spoiled little thing, aren’t you? Want me to do all the work.” He’d comment. His hand would slip back from your thigh to your ass, his fingers slightly digging into your skin before lightly coming down on it.

That pulls a jolt and a pathetic whimper from you. “C’mon, you’re not even tryin’, sweetheart.” Logan says, almost tauntingly as his hand that just spanked your ass now gently rubs circles over the skin.

“I am trying! S’not gonna fit,” you practically whine back at him, slightly pouting at his dismissal of your attempts. Your next words immediately fall into a sharp breath when Logan suddenly tugs you closer by his tags sitting so prettily around your neck. His breath softly fanning your skin.

“Then, we’ll make it fit.”

Riding cowboy!logan means sitting in his lap while he takes swigs of his Jack Daniel’s. One large hand gripping your hip while the other is wrapped around the neck of the bottle. That stupid smirk on his face as he watches you cry and moan on his dick. Your skin decorated with deep bite-marks and bruising hickeys from the edge of your jaw to your chest.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he’d tell you. You shyly drag your eyes up from where they were shamelessly stuck on his strong chest to his sharp brown eyes. And damn, you could cum just from the way he was looking at you.

Luckily, his hat on your head happens to tip forward and block your view of Logan’s face. Reminding the both of you of what a little thing you are in his lap. Logan just chuckles lowly in response before reaching up and adjusting it. “Atta boy.” He’d say when you meet his eyes again with a weak whine.

erm hey chat… it’s been a while..

hopefully i’ll be more active on here in light of recent events because fuck trump and he’s gonna fuck up whatever he does in office bc he’s a racist sexist homophobic fascist communist piece of shit molded into a human shape and thrown into a bucket of orange paint after reading Mein Kampt

sorry 4 da rant hopefully i’ll get to meet some wonderful people on here and get back into writing :)

Just wanna set the record straight, I support both Luigi Mangione AND whoever shot Brian Thompson. Just remember Luigi hasn't been confirmed to be that person.

Either way both are incredibly fuckin based

I need a guy that I love more than the fictional ones. Until then I will remain pining over non-existent men on Tumblr.

god gives his most niche fandoms to his most autistic warriors

Don't forget animated video game Sherlock and watson

Normal Sherlock and Watson

Medical Sherlock and Watson

Horror Sherlock and Watson

Supernatural Sherlock and Watson

And last but not least, lo and behold

Biblical Sherlock and Watson

(Honorably mention to merlin and King Arthur, the medieval Sherlock and watson)

not to be dramatic but I genuinely cannot picture my life without AO3

ellie & abby twitter links pt. 2 ♡

18+, minors DNI.

🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | m. list | join my tag list!

els <3

♡ ellie feeling on your ass <3

♡ ellie pleasuring her girl

♡ ellie fingering you

♡ grinding w/els

♡ ellie fingering you in her car (hint: skip to 0:44)

♡ choking w/ellie (you!receiving)

♡ sub!ellie riding you

♡ ellie using a dildo on you

♡ ellie rubbing herself on you <3

♡ els caring for you

abs <3

♡ abs’ strap-on

♡ abby getting off to you

♡ eating sub!abby from the back

♡ dom!abby doing dom!abby things <3

♡ rough strap-on sex w/sub!abby

♡ abby’s strap-on (again!)

♡ doctor!abby, coming home to fuck you post work

♡ abby fingering you w/her heavy hands

♡ abby rewarding you w/her dick

♡ possessive!abby fucking you to remind you you’re hers

How writers look when putting angst no happy ending, major character death, and hurt no comfort in their WIPs.

"stress" by yoan capote - made of bronze and concrete

thsi is literally fucking killing me

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

ఌ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑

w.c › 11k

warnings › This is an OC. Reader’s last name is Lee. Internalized homophobia from reader. Religious guilt 10x. Thanks @sauvhffp for that Drabble, I borrowed an idea you presented in it. I don’t hate religious people pls don’t think that.

plot › You’re a cog in the machine that is capitalism, wondering if the days are worth it. When you meet a certain man that will make you wish for your mundane life again.

kinks › humping, handjobs, praise, lite pet play, degradation

words to know › Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Seonbae (선배) — term for someone in a higher position, can be work/school. Yeobo (여보) — “darling/honey” only married couples use this term. Gangaji (강아지) — puppy. Eonni (언니) — term a younger girl will call an older girl.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭

두통

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

다가와. 다가와, 자기야.

“Are you that scared of me? Or… are you scared of what this means for you? What you’re hiding deep inside.”

내가 너를 유혹하니?

“When you kneel for your God, do you think of when you kneeled for me?”

너무 순종적이잖아. 맛보고 싶지 않아?

“Kneeling for me in the same room your mother kneeled for Christ.”

그만해? 왜? 나는 진실만 말해.

“You can’t forget me, Lee (Name). Even with my body rotting right outside your door. You’ll find another me.”

“And he’ll break you; showing you true temptation.”

“Yah! Lee (Name)! Wake up!”

You gasped, sitting up. A paper was stuck to your cheek from your drool as you rubbed at your eyes, trying to fight the sleep that was threatening to seep back in. Another slam at your desk caused you to shriek as you glanced over at who was causing the commotion.

It wasn’t your boss, thankfully. But it was still a higher up, Park Minhee.

“Lee (Name), have you completed the paper I sent you this morning? You seem to be comfortably napping during work hours.” She said, raising an eyebrow. Her back straightened as she looked down at you like you were a little kid, not another adult that was only four years younger than her.

“Yes, Miss Park. I did finish it, I sent it straight to the boss.” You quickly answered, pulling off the paper stuck to your cheek. Minhee stared at you for a moment before letting out a humph.

She turned her attention to your colleagues who were watching the exchange. “Don’t follow in Lee (Name)’s footsteps, you hear? When you finish your work early, you will gladly get up and come ask me for more work. Do you understand?”

It took a moment before everyone reluctantly agreed. Minhee smiled, pushing up her circular glasses as she walked off, her heels clicking against the recently polished ground.

Your body felt limp once she was finally out of earshot. You could hear murmuring from your coworkers, a few a bit snarky about Minhee’s attitude being your fault.

“You okay, Seonbae?”

You glanced over to see Kim Eunha. Eunha was recently hired after being an intern for almost two years. It was pure luck she got the job here. Even for you, you were about to quit as an intern before you finally got the job.

Eunha was sweet. One of the only people you actually liked at your job.

“I’m okay. I just haven’t been sleeping well.” You muttered, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Oh! Here.” Eunha moved to grab something off her desk before handing it over to you. It was a glasses cleaner. You thanked her, taking off your glasses as you cleaned the marks off them.

Eunha hummed for a moment before grinning nervously. “Uhm, Seonbae. I was wondering if you were coming to the party Friday night.”

“Party?”

“Mhm. It’s being held for Kang Taeyeon’s birthday. She invited the whole department.”

“I don’t think I want to go. No one here besides you likes me.”

“Please?” Eunha frowned, sighing slightly. “You never come to the dinners or parties we hold. It might help bridge the gap if you attend them.”

You knew she was technically right. With you continuously pushing yourself away from your coworkers, the gap was wide.

But you didn’t necessarily feel like bridging it. There was no way you wanted to get close to people.

“I’ll think about it.” It was only Monday. You had four days to think about it. Eunha beamed at your words and eagerly went back to her assignment.

Like you’d actually want to go.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Your family was relatively agonistic when you were growing up. Mom and Dad didn’t care too much about religion to raise you under it with your elder sisters. While your mother’s family were strict Christian conservatives, your father’s family was practically the opposite.

Though you couldn’t necessarily call him your father these days, could you?

It wasn’t until your tenth birthday that something cracked in your family. The once happy family of five soured.

And it was all your fault. That’s what your father screamed every day and night as he cried into a beer bottle.

Your mother was unfaithful.

Unfaithful for so long that your sisters were technically your half sisters.

After that, your mother and father didn’t divorce for some odd reason. Mom began to wallow in self pity about her actions and turned to God. Her once flip-floppy faith turned solid. Anything to make her feel good about herself.

Your father took his anger out on you.

The eldest sister, having reached the age of twenty, was embarrassed by her family’s history. More so that she dared to happily love an affair baby. She hardly talks to you as if you asked to be born from a man your mother fucked on the side.

Everyday from then on, you were dragged to church each Sunday with your mother’s family. They practically beamed at having you at arms reach. Your weak mind took in all of the prayers and sermons to heart, hoping that maybe, just maybe, your family will come back.

Your family would come back once you repented your sins.

Sins…?

Ten year old Lee (Name) was sinful.

Your therapist had laughed when you said that.

You haven’t gone back to see him in over a year. So sensitive you were. The mere thought of everything that you learned being wrong made you feel sick.

“(Name), you made it. Your sisters are already here.”

Your feet always hesitated before you walked into your parents’ house. It was like your body was trying to protect you but you would always ignore it. Your mother rushed you inside as you slipped off your shoes, following after her.

“Afternoon.” Your eldest sister, Yerin, didn’t attempt to look up from her phone.

“Hi, how was your day?” Your second eldest sister, Yena, asked. Yena was staring at you as she picked up her bag from the chair next to her so you could join her at the dining table.

You gave Yena a smile. “It was okay. How was yours?”

“Great! The kids are calming down now that it’s been a month of school.” Yena smiled. She was a kindergarten teacher. Yerin was a lawyer. More meaningful compared to the plain office job you worked. You wished you liked your job as much as Yena did.

Your mother was fretting around as she placed down the dishes for dinner. You almost attempted to help her but stopped yourself, glancing down at your hands. Yena began talking about a “poop incident” at her school a week ago when Yerin finally looked up from her phone.

Yerin looked you right in the eye as she tilted her head. “You don’t visit often; what, found your real family?”

“Eonni!” Yena frowned, stopping her rambling to glare at Yerin.

You didn’t even attempt to say anything. This was to be expected with her. “Is he coming out for dinner tonight?”

“Why? You could talk to him yourself.” Yerin rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure why you don’t talk to him. He raised you, giving you shelter, food, water. The least you could do is act like a son to him. He’s getting stressed out at his job these days…”

You tuned her out. She wouldn’t understand. She had already left the home when your father turned on you. When your father didn’t hesitate to lock you in the closet until your voice was hoarse from screaming and Yena finally came home from her club.

Yerin was just like your mother. Pretending the way your father reacted was normal. Your mother was still oddly religious—fully believing that she had her sins forgiven by her lord and savior. She still dragged you to church every Sunday.

You were sure she was attempting to scout out a good Christian girl for you to marry now. So many of the older church ladies were stopping you after the sermon to introduce you to their daughters.

Your father didn’t come out for dinner.

Your mother kept saying he was just tired.

You weren’t a fucking idiot. That man still hated you for daring to be born and not dying in childbirth.

The food tasted bitter and cold. The cross on the wall of the dining room felt like a curse. Bible verses hanging right in your face. He was mocking you at this point. Why haven’t you been forgiven for your sins?

“How has work been? Have you gotten a promotion yet?” Your mother suddenly asked.

The kimchi in your mouth was so bitter that you almost throw up but you swallowed it down. “No. They wouldn’t give me a promotion so soon.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed in on your face as her lips twitched. “You seem irritated. Have you been praying? Perhaps you should come to the nightly sermons I mentioned to you. Work must be stressing you out.”

You glanced over at Yena. “Do you go the sermons?”

Yena frowned, biting her lip. “Ah, no. I haven’t been going as often as I should.” She laughed nervously, rubbing at her arm. “But uhm, my husband isn’t exactly all that interested in religion.”

Yerin clinked her chopsticks against the bowl. “Why do you ask, (Name)? Trying to get out of your duty?”

Duty.

It was a fucking duty.

Yerin and Yena weren’t forced by your mom to go to church. But you were. You were dragged there by your arms even if you kicked and scream.

Your father had always told you that he’d never force a religion onto you. Though it was an empty lie, huh?

Deep down, you had a feeling it wasn’t just being an affair baby anymore. Your parents, even sisters, assumed something about you that made you anxious.

Why haven’t you been interested in girls like any other boy?

You were normal. You were fucking normal and you weren’t whatever your family was thinking. The sin of being born to an adulator was already on your record being a ‘homosexual’ of all things was practically a death sentence.

It was normal to not go crazy over any girl just because she was ‘pretty’ in the eyes of the church. You had standards.

“No,” you muttered, staring at the bowl of kimchi. Kimchi and rice. You’ve always eaten this. Always eaten it without a care in the world.

Your throat burned as you vomited on the dining table.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Seonbae, is this right?”

You glanced over at Eunha, checking the paper she was going over. “The number here is wrong. You subtracted instead of adding.”

“Ah! Thanks, Seonbae.”

It was Friday evening, your shift almost over in an hour. Eunha was still in the belief that you were coming to the birthday party. You didn’t know if you could turn her down. You’ve recently started going to the night sermons your mother was talking about.

They were bothering you—affecting your sleep. You would always come home with this weird ache in your chest that you couldn’t get rid of.

The hour felt long before it was finally over. It was bustling as people immediately got ready to go home for the weekend. You glanced over at the clock, trying to think of a way to excuse yourself when a hand patted you on the back.

“You coming, Lee (Name)? We’re heading to the restaurant!” It was one of your older coworkers, Park Woohyun. The ‘heartthrob’ of the financial department of the company. You understood why. He was handsome.

A few people often asked if he was related to Lee Dong-Wook.

You frowned, “ah, uhm, I’m not sure…”

Woohyun hummed. “What do you mean? I doubt you have anything better to do.”

Your jaw tightened as you heard a few chuckles. Anything better to do. Yeah, he was right. At most you were going to attend the sermon again. But to be told that out loud with the sounds of laughter following was humiliating.

Why did it seem like everyone hated you?

Were they right?

Does your sinful past follow you everywhere that people subconsciously feel it?

“Okay.” You suddenly said, a tight smile on your lips. “I’ll come.”

Besides, you needed to drink.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Is… this okay?”

His lips pressed against yours before pulling away. The cool air from the opened window eases into the bedroom. It caused your body to shiver as he let out a laugh.

“No. It’ll never be okay. Not if you want to stay a perfect church boy.”

“Then don’t kiss me again..! I can’t do anything else to make Him angry.”

“Don’t kiss you again?”

Hands gripped your shirt, pulling you close against his chest. Nose touching as his gaze bore into yours. His eyes looked blank as he leaned down, his lips teasing yours.

“Is that what you really want, Lee (Name)?”

You can’t remember if you ever responded to his question. The aftermath is all you can remember. He grabbed his backpack and went outside. You watched him get on his bike, the moonlight shining down on him.

There was something he said before biking away. It was hazy in your mind now but the essence was still there.

No matter how much you tried—you’ll never make your family happy.

Then he biked away. You turned to get back inside your house when a crash was heard. Running. You ran not even a few feet to see him on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. A drunk, clumsy driver stepped out of her car as she began babbling something.

All you remember is that the last thing you told Kim Junhan before his death at the ripe age of sixteen was that you would never be a ‘homosexual’ like he was.

“𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙔 𝘽𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙃𝘿𝘼𝙔!”

The sounds of clapping caused you to jump up, glancing over to see your coworkers had brought out the cake for Kang Taeyeon. You paid them no mind, staring down at your drink. Whenever you drank too much, he would always seep back into your mind.

You downed the drink in ease before asking for another one from the bartender. She raised an eyebrow at you but complied anyway.

The memories of Kim Junhan always felt so bitter.

The bartender placed the drink down. You were about to thank her when she held out a tissue for you. She must’ve noticed your confusion when she just pointed at your face and waited for you to take the tissue.

You took it and began to tap your face. When you glanced at the tissue it was wet. Fuck. You quickly wiped at your face, hoping that you didn’t look overly pathetic. Crying in a restaurant while your coworkers were singing happy birthday.

What a joke.

After the embarrassment began sinking in even more, you drank four more shots until the bartender refused to give you anymore. You were disgruntled with her but knew she was just doing her job. So you gave her the bill and left the restaurant.

None of your coworkers noticed.

You shivered as the cool air immediately attacked you once outside. You were only dressed in a thin white button up and black slacks. Your hands shook as you quickly made sure to put on your suit jacket. Though it did nothing to make you feel warm.

Perhaps you were too drunk but you suddenly felt like crying.

It had been over ten years now since Junhan died. You briefly wondered what day it was. It must’ve been his anniversary of his death. Maybe that’s why. That’s all it is.

You kneeled down and couldn’t stop the sobbing as you curled into yourself. A drunk man crying on the wall of a restaurant.

How pathetic.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Moon Eunjae hated restaurants like this. Cheap and tacky. But more importantly, the rowdy group of corporate slaves that drank until they dropped. Looked like it was on their birthday.

He turned his attention back over to his plate of food, pushing it towards his friend. “Ugh. Eat it for me.”

His friend, Yoonchae, rolled her eyes. “What? Is the food too ‘cheap’ for your liking?” She asked, grabbing his plate and immediately digging in.

“Hey, if you paid for us, we wouldn’t drag you to cheap places,” his friend beside him, Rowoon, laughed. “Not everyone can afford a meal over 100,000 won.”

Eunjae hummed. “It’s just shit. Just because you’re poor doesn’t mean your food has to be shit.”

Rowoon laughed louder while Yoonchae snapped her chopsticks in half. A loud yell from the crowd caused Rowoon to sigh.

“Is this the only time they have fun? They’re so fucking loud.” He whined, shaking his head.

“It’s her birthday, cut them some slack.” Yoonchae muttered as she grabbed a new pair of chopsticks.

Eunjae didn’t say anything. He knew he wouldn’t understand how those corporate slaves would feel being free on weekends. Though he never attempted to understand. He was only twenty-one compared to the group of adults who looked closer to their mid thirties.

He rubbed at his face before standing up. “I’m taking a smoke break.”

“Hope you catch cancer.” Yoonchae said as he walked out of the building.

Eunjae yawned as he made it outside, the cool air hardly bothering him as he dressed in a thick jacket made with fluffy fur. He pulled out his lighter and pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips as he easily lit it.

He stood there for a moment before hearing soft hiccuping. His eyes glanced to the right and he immediately looked away. Someone crying against the wall of a cheap restaurant that sells noodles that are obviously thirty years old.

Pathetic.

Oh well, he wouldn’t bother them.

His smoke break was needed as he hummed to himself. The calming wind breezed past him when he heard the stranger let out a particularly loud whimper. He was set on ignoring them again when they pulled their head out of their hands.

You were… pathetic.

So fucking pathetic.

But cute.

Like a puppy.

Round doe eyes wet with tears that’s stained your cheeks. Your body heaving as you took deep breathes from your heavy crying. Lips almost in a pout.

Who knew a man could be so cute?

Eunjae was ready to just leave you alone still despite his weird interest in you when your gaze turned over to him. Your body shivered as the wind picked up again. Doe puppy eyes bore into his as you sniffled, curling into yourself tighter to keep your body warm.

He didn’t know what to say. His cigarette was slipping out of his mouth as it parted in his shock.

Your eyes flickered to his face. He quickly wondered if you found him attractive. If you were feeling this odd need to be near him like he felt for you.

“I’m…” You whispered, he noticed your odd movements. Almost sluggish. Were you drunk? He waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Cold.” You lamely finished.

Eunjae didn’t know what exactly you thought he could do about that. But he didn’t say anything. You didn’t look like you’d listen to anything he would say right now. Right now he should be a ‘good’ citizen and get you home.

“What’s your address? You’ll freeze to death out here in such thin clothes.” He said, pulling out his phone to call a taxi.

You frowned, slowly standing up. Your body pressed against the wall as your eyes felt heavy. It was almost as cute as it was pathetic to watch you stumble over to him. Eunjae made no attempt to help you.

He enjoyed seeing you stumble.

Your hand gripped at his arm as you glanced at his phone. Your body felt so heavy that it felt as if you’d collapse if you let go of Eunjae.

“Address?” Eunjae asked again.

“Too far.” You whispered, subconsciously snuggling close to him. His jacket was so warm, so nice. Why couldn’t he share it with you?

“Too far? Come on, tell me where you live.”

“Incheon.”

“Incheon? You don’t live in Seoul?”

“Too expensive,” you whined, glaring at him. “It’s only an hour away… but trains closed.”

Eunjae checked the time. You were right, it was past midnight. No taxi was going to drive a full hour so late as well without some hefty cash. And you didn’t look like the type of be carrying such cash.

The door to the restaurant opened as a man and woman walked out. Eunjae watched them, noticing they must’ve been your coworkers. They looked worried almost scared as they frantically glanced around the street.

He wondered if they needed something until they glanced over at him. The pure anger on their face would’ve terrified him if he cared.

“What are you doing to my Seonbae?” The woman asked, glaring at Eunjae. She reached over and grabbed your hand, pulling you over. You didn’t attempt to stop her, releasing your grip on Eunjae’s jacket.

The man, a similar height to Eunjae almost looked like he was only one step away from punching him. “Were you trying to take him somewhere?”

Eunjae rolled his eyes. So much for helping. “I was trying to take him home. What is he your boyfriend?” He laughed, tilting his head.

“Woohyun Seonbae, let’s just get back inside, (Name) Seonbae is shivering.” The woman said, holding you close.

Woohyun glanced over at you. He only shook his head at Eunjae. “We’ll take him home.”

Eunjae shrugged. He didn’t care about you that much. But oddly enough, he couldn’t help but feel a bit… angry? Maybe it was the fact someone older than him was treating him like a predator.

Respect your elders or something like that.

He tugged at his jacket, holding it in his hands. The cool air immediately attacked him. No wonder you were shivering like a dog. He walked over to you, ignoring the woman’s glare at him.

“Here. Since you liked it so much.” Eunjae draped the jacket over your shoulders, helping you slip your arms in to properly wear it. Your doe eyes stared up at him as he zipped it up, a smirk on his lips. “Just return it to me, Gangaji.”

“Wait,” you called out. Eunjae glanced over at you just before he entered the restaurant. “How can I..? I don’t know your name..”

Eunjae grinned. “It’s in the jacket.”

He walked right back inside, joining Rowoon and Yoonchae. Rowoon hummed as he smirked.

“Where’s your jacket?” Rowoon asked.

“Gave it to someone.”

“You? Giving away your belongings?” Yoonchae laughed. “Why? Was she cute?”

“Very. He was as cute as a puppy.”

Yoonchae and Rowoon shared knowing looks at each other. Despite Eunjae’s ‘nonchalant’ behavior, they knew he must’ve been infatuated with this stranger to give up his favorite jacket.

They made a silent prayer for the poor soul.

Anyone Eunjae liked would often wish they never met him.

❝ 차츰 어둠이 드리울 테니 ❞

You awoke with a groan, feeling a comfortable bed beneath you. Your arms stretched out as felt considerably warm. A grunt left you as you sat up and took a look at your surroundings.

It was a nicer apartment. Your gaze flickered to the window. This was certainly Seoul. Incheon did have the busy streets as well but Seoul was considerably filled with people and cars rushing by.

As you got out of the bed, you noticed you had a large fluffy jacket on. You almost didn’t want to take it off. It was so warm and comfortable. But you pulled it off to see where you even got this.

Oh shit.

Dolce & Gabbana.

Your eyes read the name tag multiple times to see if you were imagining it.

Dolce & Gabbana!!!

Where did you get this?

You gently placed the coat that must’ve cost your rent on the bed and sprinted out of the bedroom. Just even where were you? The apartment was certainly nice but it didn’t look to be anything expensive. Quite small.

“Oh, Lee (Name) you’re awake!” A voice called out to you.

You glanced over to the kitchen to see Park Woohyun wearing an apron. Kim Eunha was right beside him holding a plate of pancakes. The two were smiling at you weirdly. Well, it was normal for Eunha to smile at you like that but you can’t ever remember Woohyun looking happy to see you.

“Do you have a hangover? I have some tablets in my bathroom cabinet.” Woohyun said, nodding towards the direction you came from. You did have a headache but didn’t want to leech on him anymore than you have.

“Uhm,” you whispered, walking over to them. “Did I sleep on your bed?”

Woohyun hummed. “You got my bedroom. Kim Eunha went back to her place but she came back to check on you. You slept in for a minute.”

Eunha hummed, smiling widely at you. “It’s 3 pm!”

Your eyes widen. “3 pm?! Why didn’t you wake me up?” You frowned.

“Why would I? You seemed like you needed the rest.”

“It’s okay, (Name) Seonbae. You had a crazy night, you needed all the rest you could get.” Eunha walked over to you, pushing you to sit down at the dinner table as she placed the plate of pancakes in front of you.

You muttered a quick thank you. “What do you mean? Did I do anything weird?”

Woohyun shrugged. “Define weird. You mean during the taxi ride here you cried that none of your coworkers liked you.” He took off his apron and walked over to you, sitting down beside you.

“I didn’t know you had that impression of me, Lee (Name).” Woohyun said, his face suddenly serious. “Have I been treating you terribly? Why haven’t you told me?”

Eunha sat down across from you, a frown on her lips. “Seonbae, I don’t know what gave you the impression we hated you but we don’t! We’re sorry we didn’t notice when you left the bar… If we were quicker that kid wouldn’t have been bothering you!”

You began to nibble on the pancakes when Woohyun gave you calculated look that was practically telling to eat or else. “What kid?” You muttered.

“The kid that gave you the jacket.” She said.

Your brain was a bit hazy. You couldn’t remember any kid that you spoke to. What kid was he to wear such a large jacket that it practically swallowed you whole? All you could really remember was what the kid called you.

강아지

You don’t know why he would call you a puppy, especially if he was younger than you. You do vaguely remember he didn’t speak respectfully with you.

Kids these days. You shook your head.

“I need to return the jacket then. Did he give his name?”

Woohyun shrugged. “He said it was written on the jacket. Check the name tag.” He leaned in close to you, causing you to flinch. His eyes narrowed in on you before he pulled away. “I think you suffer from low self-esteem, Lee (Name).”

Eunha coughed, her eyes wide. “Woohyun Seonbae! That’s not appropriate to say to someone randomly.”

“But it’s true.” Woohyun said, shaking his head. He was around fifty—probably uncaring about how to properly be a human at this point in life. “Only someone with low self-esteem would blindly believe everyone hates him. I joke with you but you seem to always take it as me punching you down.

“A normal person would tell the other that they don’t like the joke. However, you seem to think everyone else hates you as well. Kang Taeyeon invited you to the party for a reason. She was quite sad you stayed in the corner. It was party, you were supposed to mingle with everyone else.”

Eunha frowned. “Seonbae… This is a lot to spring up on someone with a hangover. Besides, it’s normal to not speak up in a work place setting. You’re our supervisor.”

“It’s not like I’ll fire you because you called me out.”

“Yeah well not every boss is as normal as you.”

You could only stare at Woohyun in shock. The audacity. The fucking audacity to bluntly tell you that you were suffering with low self worth.

It hurt. It really hurt.

Not just because he was your boss saying it.

But because he was right. Your therapist had said the exact same thing.

Were you that miserable that everyone could notice?

It was so fucking embarrassing. Why were you so embarrassing?

You didn’t even notice you were crying until your vision got blurry. Eunha began fussing obviously worried that Woohyun had hurt your feelings. And he did, he definitely did. You didn’t need this so early in the day, even if it was the afternoon.

A slight hiccup left you before you felt a hand pat you on the head. Your eyes glanced over to Woohyun. He looked a bit apologetic as he rubbed your head like you were ten years old.

“Sorry, Lee (Name). I hurt you again didn’t I?”

An apology? He really apologized.

Your lips quivered before you began to bawl. Woohyun and Eunha were shocked and quickly grabbed tissues as you wailed as if you were a baby.

Your dad was only ten years older than Woohyun.

Your dad never apologized like Park Woohyun.

To see someone close to your dad age, someone who could even be your father… To hear those words.

You needed to get back into therapy. You were a fucking mess.

Woohyun let you get cleaned up in his bathroom, telling you to just pull some clothes from his dresser. Eunha had given you a hug before you left. It was embarrassing to cry in front of a man who could be your father and a woman who was only two years younger than you. But it also felt liberating to see them care so much about you.

Did your coworkers… really not hate you like you assumed?

How many situations have you been in that you wrongly assumed the other hated you?

Maybe you… maybe you should make the effort to talk to people.

You shook your head. One step at a time. Your eyes flickered over to the jacket on the bed. You walked over and checked the tag again. Was there any other tag in it? It took a moment of you checking any space on the jacket before you came across a second tag that had the laundry instructions.

문은재

Moon Eunjae? A pretty name. You checked to see if there was any number. There was not. You checked the pockets until you pulled out a receipt. It looked to be from a delivery. The address and phone number was on it.

This must be his phone number. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone, noticing a few texts from your mother. The familiar feeling of agony began to grow in your chest. You almost wanted to throw up the pancakes you ate.

Was it normal to hate being near your mother?

To even see a message from her and your world felt like it was crashing down.

She had sent multiple messages asking you where you were. Ah, there was another sermon yesterday. Looks like she was practically begging you to join the one for tonight. Why do churches even hold so many sermons everyday? Do people really enjoy that?

You checked the time. It was close to 5 pm now. No way would you make it in time for the 6 pm sermon. You didn’t respond and just decided to attend the usually Sunday Service at noon.

Your body instantly calmed when you decided that but you didn’t want to think any further on why church was so intense for you. You typed out the number on your phone and called it, hoping you could return the jacket tonight while still in the area.

It rang for a moment before it was answered.

“Who’s this?”

“Uhm, hello. Is this Mister Moon Eunjae..? You gave me your jacket last night.”

“Oh, Gangaji. You were able to remember me? Aren’t you a good boy?”

Your face flushed. What the fuck? You weren’t about to let someone younger than you talk down to you. “It’s Lee (Name). Anyway, I want to return your jacket while I’m still in Seoul. Where do you live?”

“Hm, you’re no fun.” He chuckled. “You got my number from the receipt, right? Go to the address.”

“What, but what time—?”

He hung up. That little…

You sighed. The address was in the direction of Incheon actually. So it wouldn’t be out of your way. You dressed in Woohyun’s clothes and put your dirty clothes in a plastic bag Eunha gave you.

It was awkward going back to the living room. Eunha had went back home before it got too dark. You were glad to not have to talk to her until Monday. But it was awkward seeing Woohyun.

Woohyun got up from the couch to let you out. You were set to rush out when he grasped your shoulder, turning you to face him. His face was blank before a slight smile pulled on his lips as he gave you comforting pat on the head.

“Get home safe. See you Monday.”

You definitely did not leave the apartment feeling happy, no you did not.

The address led you to a hotel. You at first thought maybe it was just a fancy apartment complex but the receptionist called it a hotel when you asked. It felt awkward just standing there in clothes a bit too big on your body.

Everyone that walked past was dressed to the nines. Expensive coats. Shining jewelry. It almost felt like a joke that you were even able to stand in the same area as them.

“Gangaji?”

You turned over to see someone walking over to you. You mentally cursed at yourself for responding to the nickname. The person who you assumed was Moon Eunjae grinned, wearing clothing vastly different from everyone else.

A baggy sweatshirt with faded jeans. He didn’t look like someone who could own such an expensive jacket but maybe he was just dressing down. You held the jacket out when he got close, a slight smile on your lips.

“Here… Thank you for offering it to me. I didn’t mean to act so childish last night.” You said, bowing your head slightly. Being his elder, you felt a bit embarrassed he took care of you.

Eunjae looked to be a few inches taller than you. Shaggy black hair. He had sharp dark brown eyes that stared straight at you. His lips pulled into a smug smile as he tilted his head. It took a moment before he grabbed his jacket from your hand.

“Thanks.” He said, his voice smooth and silky. You almost wanted to run out there but couldn’t help but stare right back at him.

He was handsome but you don’t remember ever being phased by a man being handsome. Mainly… only Kim Junhan had ever made you feel this strange way.

Eunjae suddenly hummed. “Do you want to have dinner before you go?”

Your lips parted, ready to refuse. “Yes.”

What?

You followed Eunjae out of the hotel. He didn’t say anything the entire walk. It was only for a few minutes before you reached a small little restaurant outdoors. There was a large tent covering it. A few people were sitting around eating what looked be Korean BBQ.

Eunjae motioned for you to sit while he talked to the owner. The owner almost looked excited to see Eunjae as she immediately pointed for him to sit down as she grabbed a plate of raw meat.

The two came over to where you sat. Eunjae sat down just as the owner turned on the heat of the grill. She handed Eunjae the meat and gave you a smile before rushing off to help some customers.

You reached out to grab the tongs when he did it for you. Your eyes just simply watched as he began to cook the meat. It was usually the eldest that cooked the meat—so to have him do it felt weird.

After a couple were finished he placed it on your plate, motioning for you to eat.

You silently thanked him and began to eat, having not had Korean BBQ in a hot minute. It was better than you remembered. You couldn’t help but flex your hand, shaking it in excitement as you continued to eat. Eunjae knew how to cook the meat just right!

A snort caught your attention as you looked up.

“You act like a kid.” Eunjae said, placing a few more pieces of meat on your plate. “It’s cute. You really are a Gangaji.”

You blushed. “It’s not right to call me that. I’m older than you.”

“Ah,” Eunjae rolled his eyes. “Should I call you hyung then?”

“Well, no, we’re not close.”

“But what if I want us to be?”

You almost choked as your eyes widen. Eunjae smirked. What the hell was wrong with this kid?

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one. I can legally drink.” He said, motioning to the beer he had ordered.

“Well I’m twenty-five; twenty-six in a few weeks. You shouldn’t speak so informally with me.”

“Why should I speak formally with my Gangaji?”

“You little!”

Eunjae ignored your outburst and placed the rest of the meat on your plate. He turned off the grill and began finally eat his meat that he cooked. You knew the meat had to have been cold by now. You were about to give him some of your meat as it was recently cooked but he suddenly looked up at you.

“I usually stay to people my own age.” Eunjae confessed. “But you’re too cute to pass up.”

“I’m a person.”

“And my Gangaji.”

“Stop calling me that!” You whined, trying your best to glare at him.

Eunjae’s eyes bore into yours. You suddenly felt watched as he just stared at you for a moment.

“Are you happy, Lee (Name)?”

Your eyes widen. It was odd to hear him properly speak to you. To use your name. But to even ask such a question. What the hell.

“Why… Why do you…?”

“It’s just a question.” Eunjae said nonchalantly. “I’m not happy, at least not fully. I think I’m not living life the way I want to.”

“I…”

“Are you living the life you want? Are there any people you should cut out of your life?”

A shuddered gasp left your lips, your eyes wide as you tried to speak. Why did it feel like everyone was suddenly your therapist?!

“I’m.. I’m happy.. I…”

“Are you religious?”

“How..?”

Eunjae grinned. “I don’t think you’d wear a cross necklace if you weren’t.”

You glanced down to notice your necklace wasn’t tucked in your shirt like it usually was. Your hand quickly tucked it away. Looking back up at Eunjae, his face was unreadable as he watched your action.

“It’s… I uhm. I do attend sermons. Are you religious?” You asked.

“No.” Eunjae took a sip of his beer. “Someone like me would burn if I step foot in a church.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

It was silent for a moment as he went back to eating his meat. Once he was finished, Eunjae glanced over at you.

“We should be friends. My mom wants me to be friends with more sensible people.” Eunjae chuckled, grinning at you. “Will you be my friend, Lee (Name)?”

You bit your lip. “Ah, but we might not have anything in common…”

“We’ll find something.” Was all he said before getting up, motioning that he was going to pay the bill. You almost shot up at the idea but he didn’t take no for an answer.

After paying, Eunjae walked with you to the train station. Usually silence made you feel awkward or anxious. But with Eunjae, the silence felt peaceful. Your mind didn’t overthink with him.

It wasn’t like he was doing anything. You just felt weirdly comfortable with him. There was an odd disappointment when you finally reached the station. You wondered if you should thank him or something when a hand slithered itself to the curve of your waist.

Your eyes widen as lips pressed against yours. Eunjae was kissing you. Kissing you out in the open. Your hand pressed against his chest but you hesitated for a moment to push him away.

No.

A man’s lips aren’t supposed to feel so good.

You were normal. You couldn’t be…

When Eunjae pulled away, you subconsciously moved forward. Your eyes watched his face as a slight smirk pulled on his lips. He released his grip on you before reaching up and tugging off his jacket.

You watched, sober this time, as he placed the jacket on your shoulders. He carefully helped you put it on, zipping it up. His hands rest on your shoulders before gripping your face, squishing it softly before pulling away.

“Text me when you get home, Lee (Name).” Eunjae said. You tried to ignore the weird way you wished he called you Gangaji again. That was weird, no man calls another man a puppy!

You mutely nodded, feeling cozy in the jacket. “How will you get your jacket back..?” You whispered.

Eunjae grinned. “You’ll call me.” He said. “And when I answer your call, you’ll come running to me.”

“Won’t you run to me..?”

“No,” he laughed. “You better go, the trains about to leave.”

“What about your number?”

“It’s the same one you called. Just save it.”

You nodded but your feet was glued to the ground. There wasn’t anything else you wanted to ask but you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave him. This odd feeling you have. Infatuation probably.

You’ve never felt this way about a woman.

For a man younger than you was insane. You almost wanted to cry. Couldn’t you do anything right?

A hand caressed your cheek, causing you to glance up. His thumb pressed against the bottom of your lip. It gently pried your lips apart before he leaned down, his lips teasing the tip of your ear.

“Don’t look at me like that—I’ll end up leashing you so you’re never away from me.”

You gulped as he pulled away. He didn’t say anything else besides gently nudge you to leave. You listened and quickly walked to train just as the doors open. Just as you stepped inside, you glanced back at him.

Eunjae waved. His lips parting to mouth something.

A blush spread on your cheeks at his words.

Good boy.

Something was awakening within you and it wasn’t going to be good.

❝ 달빛 아래 숨죽인 나 ❞

Sunday Service.

Sunday Service was something you had come to hate. But you never skipped them despite your body always feeling physically sick on Sundays. You had begun waking up early and vomiting the bile in your throat.

When you told your mother she said it was God pushing the sin out.

Whatever that meant.

You sat in the usual back row, right next to your mom. You always sat at the end so you could bolt right out as soon as it’s finished. The pastor was preaching something. The quotes weren’t registering to you.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to sit up straight. You didn’t look at your mother knowing she would be looking at you with anger. The pastors words finally began to settle in.

Genesis 19:26.

Your body froze when the pastor began reciting the verses. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

You glanced over at your mother and saw she was smiling at you. It was a genuine smile—as if she was happy about what was happening. She couldn’t have…

Memories of after Kim Junhan’s death filled your mind. You had mostly blocked it out at this point but it was all coming back. After the funeral, your mother had pulled you aside to talk to you.

She quoted Genesis 19:26 to you. Reciting it word for word. Then told you that your ‘worldly’ beliefs would lead you to follow in Junhan’s fate. You remember asking her if she thought Junhan possibly loving the same sex meant he had to die.

You remember her face.

Her blank face before saying yes right. Junhan’s parents were only a few feet away from you. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had told them what she said. That their poor son was killed because God believed homosexuality was a crime.

That God created the accident. That the drunk driver probably wouldn’t have killed them if Junhan only kissed girls.

In a way, you began to believe it was your fault he died. Maybe if you pushed harder, let him know he couldn’t live his life his way.

Your breathing was hard. Your hands gripped at your pants as you watched everyone else just say “amen” over and over again. You glanced up at where the pastor was. Your mother was friends with the pastor.

Did she really request him to recite that specific scripture? Would she do that to you?

Did she suspect you were falling back into homosexual thoughts?

You wanted to vomit.

A strangled gasp left your lips as you shot up. Everything stopped, everyone staring at you. You knew you probably looked like a freak. People probably thought you were scared about a homosexual.

You had to leave. You couldn’t be here anymore.

Your hand gripped at the bench as you made the attempt to leave.

“Where are you going? You’re being disrespectful!” Your mother yelled, grabbing your hand.

“Let go of me!” You involuntarily screamed, ripping your hand from her grasp. A needle could be dropped at your outburst. You, Lee (Name) screamed?

Just as you were about to apologize, a hand gently rest it on your back. You glanced back to see someone you least expected.

Standing behind you was Kim Junhan’s parents, Geon and Dohee. Geon gave you a comforting smile as he gently patted your back. You looked down in embarrassment.

“We’ll help him get some fresh air. Please continue on.” Dohee said, smiling. She turned to your mother and gave her a nod before motioning for her husband to help you walk out. Geon practically dragged you out, your legs feeling like jelly.

You don’t remember ever seeing Geon and Dohee at the church ever since Junhan’s funeral.

The fresh air brought a much needed relief as it kissed your face. Geon held you to his chest as you attempted to stand straight. Dohee came over with a water bottle, dapping at your skin with a handkerchief.

“Poor, baby… You’re sweating.” She muttered.

“Are you alright, (Name)-Ah?” Geon asked, helping you to sit down on the outdoor bench. You practically collapsed and went limp, chugging at the water bottle.

“It looked like he was having a panic attack. (Name)-Ah, do you have any medication for it?” Dohee said. You forgot she was a therapist.

You coughed slightly. “Why are you guys here?”

Dohee smiled somberly. “Well, Friday was Junhan’s death anniversary so we came to visit his grave. We were going to go back to Seoul yesterday but I wanted to visit the church to see some old friends.”

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly whispered. “I haven’t been visiting his grave often.”

Geon patted your head. “It’s alright. We know you love him. How have you been? Is everything treating you alright?”

You frowned. How much should you tell them? Back then, they certainly knew your father hated you. It wasn’t exactly a secret. There were so many times you ran to Junhan’s house to stay the night or even weekend to get away from home.

“I just… I just always feel anxious and terrible when I hear Genesis.” You admitted.

“Genesis? Why? It’s simply about disobedience.” Geon handed you Dohee’s handkerchief that you greatly accepted.

You shook your head. “It’s not over the story’s meaning itself… It’s more so on the memory surrounding it.”

Dohee and Geon didn’t make attempt to press you on it, thankfully. Geon went back inside to grab some more water as Dohee sat down beside you.

“Have you been treating yourself well?” She asked.

“Yes… I have.”

“Mhm.” She glanced over at you. “You can always contact us or even visit us, (Name)-Ah. Just because Junhan is gone doesn’t mean we have to leave your life as well. I felt like you were my own son back then. And even now, you’re my son. I worry for you. I want you to be happy, doing whatever you so wish.”

You frowned, biting your lip. “Anything? What if what I want to do is against God?”

“You want to murder someone?”

“What?! No!”

“Then what could it be? Do you truly believe in God? I remember how you speak about God—it’s always in fear. You never seem happy in church.”

You stared at her. “I guess… I guess I didn’t willingly want to go to church. Coming to church makes me anxious. I don’t like it here.”

“Then why come?” Dohee patted your leg. “You’re not a child anymore. You’re twenty-five. I assume you have your own apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you letting your moth—your fear control you?” She gave you grin. “Before you started going to church, you were so bratty. No one could tell you to do anything without getting into a screaming match. You had to be presented a PowerPoint to do anything. I know it’s been too long for you to truly be that person again.

“But I believe you can see your worth. It’ll take time but you need to stop letting God or anyone else tell you what to do.” She sighed, pulling away just as Geon came outside with a water bottle. He handed it over to you.

You stayed outside with Geon and Dohee for a while longer. They told you to visit them whenever you came back to Seoul and left. It almost felt amazing to be with older people who were normal. You thought back to Dohee’s words as people began to leave church, signaling the service was done.

Your mother and her usual group of friends came over with their children. You usually attempted to force a smile but you didn’t this time, too tired to really do anything. So you didn’t even try to stand up when they were right in front of you.

“Lee (Name), are you alright? That was so scary? What happened?” A woman asked.

“Stomach bug.”

“Stomach bug? But why did you scream?” A man asked, one of the older woman’s son. His wife was right beside him, holding their daughter. You knew that’s what your mother was praying day and night for you to have.

“I was going to throw up if she held me back.”

Your mother looked angry but you didn’t say anything to her. The group began talking a bit amongst themselves when one of your mother’s bestest friend came over with her daughter who was close in age with you.

The mother was Sieun. Her daughter being named Gayoung if you could remember.

“(Name), you gave us quite a fright! Gayoung was so worried she was about to rush out to see if you were alright.” Sieun said, subtly nudging her daughter.

Gayoung smiled shyly, pushing at her hair. “Are you okay now, Lee (Name)..?” She whispered.

You knew Gayoung was any Christian man’s dream girl. A pretty girl who was quiet and modest. It wasn’t her fault that her mother was so desperate to marry her off to any man.

“I need to go, the virus is coming back.” You said, standing up. The three women stared at you in shock as you walked away.

It felt absolutely awful to leave them like that but you didn’t think you could handle staying there for a second longer. You just wanted to get home and collapse on your bed before work tomorrow.

You wanted to die.

It took longer for you to get home because of the need to stop multiple times. But you finally reached it. You got inside and kicked your shoes off, sluggishly dragging your body to your bedroom.

You plopped down with a huff, reaching into your pants to pull out your phone. It was around 4 pm.

You attempted to just sleep then when your eyes landed on a jacket resting on your door. It was fluffy and the most expensive thing in your house. Eunjae’s jacket. You slowly got up and grabbed it, hugging it to your chest.

The scent was nice. It must’ve been recently washed before Eunjae gave it to you. You dropped the jacket on the bed and began taking off your clothes. The clothes landed half hazardously around the room. Your finger tugged at your boxers before you slipped it off as well.

A grin pulled on your lips as you crawled into the bed, right over the jacket. You sprawled it out and leaned down, sniffing it. It was soft against your face. A weird feeling was taking you over as sat up.

In your twenty-five years of life you never masturbated.

Never.

Sexual pleasure was wrong.

Or the pleasure you wanted.

When you had moved out, you thought you would finally be comfortable enough to masturbate. But when you looked up porn, you noticed yourself paying more attention to the guy than the girl.

You had never touched porn again after that.

The most you had ever done was with Junhan.

But even then, you two didn’t go far because you were too scared. You had seen his cock and almost attempted to lick it. You wondered how far your relationship could’ve gone if you weren’t so scared about being punished.

Who could even punish you?

Dohee was right—you were an adult. You couldn’t live your entire life hoping to make your parents happy. To get the love from a man who doesn’t even say your name.

You stared down at the jacket. It can’t be too hard to wash a jacket, right?

Besides, it’s really soft. Is this real fur?

You slowly pressed your lower half against the jacket, your cock twitching already from the sensation. A whimper left your throat as you began to grind against the jacket. You started off slow before that wasn’t enough.

You rutted against the jacket, arching your back to get a better angle. It was so soft but that meant there wasn’t a lot of feeling in rutting. Your hand reached down as you hesitantly grasped your cock, shivering at the feeling.

The sensation was a bit much but you began jerking off. Your hips still moved as your toes curled, your orgasm already coming. To think you were missing out on this.

A stuttered whimper left you as you came, coating the soft fur beneath you. You sighed, pulling your hand away. Well, you could again…

You began to rub down against the jacket again, closing your eyes as you tried to reach a second orgasm. Maybe it was because it was his jacket you were using but you suddenly wondered what Eunjae would think if he saw you like this.

Would he be angry? Punish you for running his clothes with your cum?

Would he degrade you? The thought made you whimper—you liked his praise but you wanted to know how badly he could degrade you.

That couldn’t be normal but you were too close to think about the implications of that.

The high reached you quickly once again as your hips stuttered to a stop and you came. Your breathing was heavy as you pulled away, staring at the brown fur that was covered in white.

A weird sense of pride filled in your chest.

Now whenever he wore it, you’d be ingrained in it.

Wow, what the hell were you thinking?

You shook your head. Weird. That thought was weird. You need to take a shower.

And maybe masturbate some more.

Yeah, you have all night.

❝ 달콤한 어둠 아래 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞

“You okay?” Eunha asked, sitting down beside you.

No, you weren’t okay. It had been over two weeks and you’ve been rutting against Eunjae’s jacket every night like a damn dog. You always managed to cum two times a row, last night reaching three!

You were insatiable. It must be your body wanting to catch up on all the years you’ve missed but it was fucking crazy that it was mostly dealing with Eunjae’s jacket!!

No way in hell you could return his jacket now. You washed it and now it was lighter than normal! How were you supposed to know you can’t bleach fur!

Eunjae would be furious!!! He’d make you pay him right away!

6,408,249 won!

That’s more than your fucking rent. That’s triple your rent!

You were so fucking screwed.

As you wallowed in self pity, you felt a pat on your back. Woohyun sat down beside you as he began eating his lunch. Eunha was still trying to ask you questions but you didn’t exactly want to tell her that you came all over a jacket and it was now ruined.

“Have you gotten back into therapy?” Woohyun suddenly asked. “I know the younger generation is much more mature about going to it. Is it too expensive now?”

“Seonbae!” Eunha glared.

You shook your head. “I won’t be able to afford therapy at this point.” You whined.

“Why?” Woohyun asked.

“Got stuck with a payment.”

“How much is it? I’ll help you.”

“Oh! Me too, Seonbae!”

“6,408,249 won.”

Woohyun and Eunha stared at you as if you were fucking insane. They both coughed before looking down at their food.

“Uhm sorry.”

“Sorry you’re going through that, Seonbae.”

“Thanks for the other anyway.” You muttered, finally eating your salad that you’ve been poking for over fifteen minutes.

That was the reason you haven’t called Eunjae despite wanting to. You practically hovered over his contact information each night before forcing yourself to bed. Why hasn’t he texted you? Why do you have to be the one to text him?

Was he finally taking to heart that you were the elder in the relationship?

Man, you didn’t care about that anymore.

Well, sort of. You still wish he had some respect for you.

The rest of the day was uneventful as you took the train back to Incheon. You actually made it home before the train got filled to the brim with people. Once you made it to your apartment you almost thought about masturbating again.

But no, you couldn’t keep running away from your future payment.

You were an adult. That meant having to face the consequences of your actions.

You changed into an oversize t-shirt and gym shorts. Your phone was staring at you as you hesitantly grasped it. You scrolled your limited contacts before landing on Eunjae’s. Your finger hovered over his contact before you slowly pressed it, anxiety taking over.

It rang for a few moments. You almost wondered if he wasn’t going to answer until it finally picked up.

“Gangaji…. What took you so long?”

A giggle almost escaped your lips but you managed to stop it by biting your tongue. “It’s Lee (Name).” You said, gotta have some form of self respect. “I wanted to know when I can return your jacket.”

“You can return it now.”

“Huh? But I’m back home in Incheon.”

“I’m in Incheon right now.”

“Huh?”

“I was visiting a friend who lives here. Tell me your address.”

You got ready to refuse, it wasn’t smart to tell a stranger your address. But when your lips parted you ended up telling him your address.

Fucking idiot.

“See you, Gangaji.”

It didn’t take too long for him to knock on your door. You had practically jumped up and ran to open it.

There he was; dressed in a simple t-shirt with baggy jeans. He didn’t even wait for you to invite him in. You almost yelled at him for that until he looked back at you and grinned. Wow, his smile must regularly make girls faint.

“Where’s my jacket?” He asked, causing your body to freeze up.

“Ah uhm. Slight problem, when I attempted to wash it I used bleach and now it’s really ashy in color.” You explained, waiting for him to yell at you and ask for payment.

But he didn’t, he looked amused. Eunjae hummed. “Okay. Lemme see.”

You nodded and went to your room. You grabbed the coat, ready to turn back when you see him entering your room. A gasp left you as you almost jumped out of your skin. Eunjae only grinned before glancing down at his jacket.

“Ah, you really did ruin it.”

You frowned. “Yeah… I know it’s over 6,00,000 won… I can’t pay that right now but I can do it in fragments or something.”

Eunjae only tilted his head. “Why did you wash it anyway?”

“Ah! I got it dirty!”

“How?”

“Ah….”

A sly smirk appeared on his lips as he stepped towards you. You flinched, taking a step back. It continued until your legs bumped against the edge of your bed and you fell down. Eunjae took advantage of that and trapped you down on the bed, his hands resting on either side of your head.

“Tell me. I deserve to know. It was my favorite jacket.”

You gulped. His favorite? Oh for fucks sake.

This was going to be so embarrassing. You clutched the coat to your chest as you closed your eyes, not wanting to look Eunjae in the eye.

“I.. got cum on it.” You whispered.

“What was that?”

“I cummed on it!” You cried out, waiting for the anger.

It was silent for a moment. You opened one eye before glancing up at Eunjae. The sight was shocking to say the least.

He didn’t look angry… he looked almost pleased..?

“Did you, Gangaji? Don’t you know that makes you naughty?” He asked, his right hand moving to grab the jacket. “But you were telling me that I have to speak to you with respect… yet here you are, cumming on my clothes like a pathetic dog.”

You whimpered as he pulled the jacket out of your grasp. He tossed it across the room before leaning down, his nose brushing against yours.

“Did you think of me? Or were you just using it because it was so soft?”

Your cheeks flushed. “A.. a few times..”

“A few times…” Eunjae’s hand trailed down your chest, grasping the edge of your shirt. He roughly pulled it up and forced it into your mouth. A strangled gasp left your lips just as you were about to spit it out when he glared at you. “Keep that between your teeth. You don’t want to act out anymore, do you?”

Eunjae smiled when you bit down on the shirt. His hands gripped your gym shorts, pulling them down without any hesitation. You could only watch as he rubbed his palm against your clothed cock. Your boxers were already tight against your skin but felt even tighter as your cock began to harden.

“Cute. I had so many ideas on how you’ll be but you’re already better than any imagination.” He said.

His palm slowly rubbed your cock. He made no effort to take your boxers off even as you began to whimper. Your hips stuttered from the feeling, wanting to just quickly jerk off. This teasing isn’t something you were used to.

No matter the fact it was another man. Despite yourself, you were thinking about how much of a sin this was. How you were disappointing everyone in your family. You were disgusting in the eyes of God.

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to push the thoughts away.

“(Name).” Eunjae suddenly said. Your eyes opened as you stared up at him. His face was devoid of any emotion as he released his grip on your cock. You could only watch as he reached beneath your shirt. A shriek left your lips when you felt something snap against your skin.

His hand pulled out and in his palm was your cross necklace. You could only watch in awe.

“My poor Gangaji.” Eunjae muttered. You didn’t know if he was actually worried about you or being patronizing. “You’re already broken. That’s no fun.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. “I’ll have to build you back up.” He whispered against your lips. A moan left your lips as his free hand slipped into your boxers, grasping your cock with ease.

He quickly jerked you off, your back arching as the orgasm was immediately building. You were withering and moaning beneath him, grasping at the bedsheets beneath you. The shirt had already left your lips as you couldn’t hold back your whimpers.

Your toes curled as he pressed kisses along your neck. It was different with someone else. You thought you were about to die from the pleasure.

“Cum, Gangaji. Cum for me.”

A loud cry filled the room as you cummed, coating the inside of your boxers. Eunjae pulled his hand out as he pressed it against your lips. You whimpered as he pried your lips open, slipping his fingers into your mouth.

It took a moment before you began sucking on them, cleaning the cum off his fingers. Your cock twitched again. You wanted to cum again.

Eunjae chuckled. “Wow, you’re insatiable, huh?” He asked, grasping your bulge again. You whimpered, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He only smirked before rubbing your cock against your boxers. You immediately went into a panting frenzy as he rubbed a quick orgasm out of you. Eunjae hummed, seemingly shocked you came so quick.

“Cute.”

You laid on the bed in a daze, wanting to just sleep. But Eunjae had other ideas as he began to undress you. “Can’t sleep here, you need to bathe.”

A whine left your lips but you didn’t stop him. You felt his arms beneath your body before he hoisted you up.

“Stay awake for me, Gangaji.” He said, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Tell me the code to your front door.”

“Hngh… 1004.”

“Angel?” Eunjae laughed. “Cute. You really are cute, Lee (Name). I don’t want to leave you alone for a second.”

You hummed. “Then don’t…”

You must’ve fallen asleep because you woke up hours later alone in your bed. You almost felt disappointed but fought the feeling away. It was okay… At least he wasn’t going to charge you for ruining his jacket.

But you still felt so empty.

Your hand reached up to touch your chest. The cross was gone.

And you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved.

❝ 데려가 줘 영원히 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞

It had been a week since you last seen Eunjae. You almost felt like you imagined him. But his jacket was still at your house, he never ended up taking it.

You would still rut against it to masturbate. It was still so good. But it never felt the same as when Eunjae jerk you off. You had stopped going to church and seeing your parents.

Though there were nights you cried and prayed to push the thoughts away. In your heart, you knew you were gay. You hadn’t answered your mother’s calls. Even ignoring Yerin and Yena.

You knew that would implode on you one day but at least not today.

You came home from work, ready to collapse on your bed once more.

But you noticed there were moving boxes right outside your door. You gasped, wondering if your landlord was kicking you out or worse! Until you punched in the code. It hadn’t been changed. You slowly pushed it open to see nothing had changed.

Then…

You heard a laugh coming from your spare bedroom. There was nothing in there because you could never afford to buy anything so it was your spare closet. You hesitantly walked over to the door, slowly pushing it open as well.

The room was fully furnished. A small little sofa against the wall. A whole desk with a PC and everything. A few more boxes in the room that possibly haven’t been opened yet.

In the center there was someone in the chair.

Your eyes widen as the person took off their headphones before swirling the chair around.

Moon Eunjae stared at you with a smirk.

“Welcome home, Yeobo. Sorry I took so long, I had to break the lease of my apartment back in Seoul.”

What the fuck?!

Finally!! I got Eunjae’s first chapter! I originally didn’t plan for pet play to be his main kink but realized it suited him a lot. 1004 sounds similar to the Korean word for angel (천사) that’s what Eunjae says “angel.” He isn’t as manipulative in this cuz I gotta set things up but he’s gonna turn insane in later chapters. Also, it’s pronounced Gang-Ah-Ji in case you’re confused.

Also I know Genesis 19:26 isn’t about homosexuality, but my grandma used that against me when I told her that I might be trans to persuade me to stay Cis so that’s why I used it here.

Tag list: @joonggphilia @the-ultimate-librarian @smellwell @tehyunnie @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @euthymiko @kiiyoooo @love-kha1 @remdayz @mello-life25

Translations:

두통 (the title) — headache

다가와. 다가와, 자기야. (Come close. Come close, baby)

내가 너를 유혹하니? (Am I tempting you?)

너무 순종적이잖아. 맛보고 싶지 않아? (You’re so obedient. Don’t you want to taste it?)

그만해? 왜? 나는 진실만 말해. (Stop it? Why? I only tell the truth)

❝ 차츰 어둠이 드리울 테니 ❞ (the darkness is being casted slowly)

❝ 달빛 아래 숨죽인 나 ❞ (i hold my breath under the moonlight)

❝ 달콤한 어둠 아래 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞ (in this sweet darkness, the witching hour descends)

❝ 데려가 줘 영원히 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞ (take me, the endless witching hour decends)

Songs used: Reveal by The Boyz and Apple by Gfriend

From that post I saw going around. I just wanted to add something

There's wholesome ships and there's toxic ships, but I'd like to coin 'sodium chloride ships', where the individuals involved are both horrible and dangerous people, but somehow being together renders them surprisingly well-adjusted (if a little salty).

Have y'all seen this 😭