can you explain « he was a natural plauché » and what it means in punish ?
the og concept for perverts was a character study about different “perverts”, inspired by reading knockemstiff. a sex addict, a pedophile, an arsonist, a sedative addict, etc. the project is completely different now but punish and amber waves are the only surviving demos from it so they’re still about that. punish is about a pedophile who was shot by the child’s father and now lives in exile where he physically maims himself to simulate the bullet wound in order to punish himself. at least that’s what i had in mind i wrote it. the song can be whatever you want it to be.
when internet people are like “i love gothic literature but i hate anything that discusses incest, sexual violence, oppression, misogyny, abuse, torture, gore, murder, or death”
Bolting up with a gasp, your heart pounds in your chest for a few minutes. You’re not sure what the noise was- a door slamming shut, or maybe something falling in the apartment above you, but the echo of it in your head keeps you awake for a while, hating that your anxiety doesn’t let you sleep.
.
You go to another dry cleaners, you do your best to avoid going out. You go to work, and back home for a couple of weeks, worried that someone will find you and scold you for what you’ve done.
You think about being scolded by him, you doubt you’d be able to last a moment in his presence.
After you’d ensured the safe delivery of the coat, did you finally research the owner.
William Russo, his stoic, borderline angry expression staring back at you through your computer screen had only made you aroused all over again.
This, this was the Alpha with a scent so magnetic, you couldn’t resist it.
He was rich, a CEO, and you could only look around your threadbare apartment and sigh sadly, there was nothing you could offer him that would interest him.
So, you try to move on with your life, work hard so you can afford to buy alleviators for your next heat, and stay away from alphas that would no doubt hurt you.
The art museum was a big comfort. On a Friday evening, when it was at its emptiest, you’d go in, and stare at all the paintings. You’d study the brushstrokes till your eyes burned, items like Starry Night, and Street Light were beautiful works that always made you dare to dream of a life better than the one you were in. Today however, The Lovers was the one that kept you most occupied.
Two people, with white cloths over their heads as they lean into each other, kissing. Hidden from each other’s sight, you wonder if the painting only holds its romance because of the seemingly anonymity of the subjects. If the mystery was removed, would there be more love, or less?
It was kind of how you felt right now, pained, searching for something that you weren’t familiar with. An alpha, to call your own.
None of the alphas you’d met had ever been right for you. There was an entitlement written into them, the belief that your station was lesser, so you were supposed to submit. Alphas constantly lived with that air of superiority surrounding them, and they were easily upset when you did not give them what they wanted.
The alphas you dated were wrong to think that submission was something freely given, in reality, it had to be earned.
You wondered if the alpha on your mind would ask nicely.
Probably not. It was a good thing he existed only in your fantasies.
.
Your omega privilege means you get to stay a little after closing. You smile gratefully in the security guard’s direction when he comes to escort you out.
“We’ve got a new piece coming in tomorrow. You won’t be able to stay late anymore, but I’m sure you’ll like it.”
You smile in delight.
“Do you know which one it is?” You ask.
“Not really, not much of an art guy, but it’s a big deal, really expensive.”
You nod, enthusiastically.
“Well, I can’t wait.” You reply, wishing the beta a good night when you finally reach the exit, pulling your jacket tighter around you to protect from the cold.
.
Not for the first time in his life, he feels the loneliness.
It’s only that he’s never felt it quite like this. Usually, people just didn’t want him, his mother gave him up when he was a baby, and he’d never really understood why. Through his life, people had assumed he’d present as a beta, because he’d been a scrawny kid. Things had only gotten worse when at ten, his alpha denomination had shown through.
Then, everyone had wanted a piece of him, an opportunity to say that they’d fought an alpha and won, uncaring of his age and size- the world had forced him to become ruthless very quickly.
He’d let the world’s rejection shape him, and he’d only realised that when he’d met Frank.
Frank had made him understand, that alphas were not supposed to be cruel, but rather the very definition of safety and security.
He'd tried his best to ignore the hollow feeling inside of him, and that had worked.
At least, it had, up until he'd smelled that stupid coat.
Now, it was like someone had taken a piece of him and ran off with it, ripped a carefully placed bandage off and left him with an open wound. He could feel the absence, like if it was a whole other person in the room.
He wanted his omega.
It was all he’d thought about now, as he pressed the coat to his nose every night, struggling to catch her fading scent, he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep again when the scent fully faded.
He keeps going, maybe he even pushes himself harder, his work distracts him, helps him keep a clear head.
He’d even accepted a job to secure artwork for the museum, even though his specialty was protecting people, and Frank was usually the man that handled asset protection.
He’s following closely behind The Scream when he stops dead in his tracks.
One of his employees tosses him a confused glance, but he ignores it as he takes a deep inhale.
He’d know that vanilla scent anywhere, the smell of apples mixed in and his heart gives an eager kick.
Surely not-
He turns his head, sees a painting of two lovers hiding from each other, kissing through a shroud of white cloth. He studies it for a moment, his mind racing at speeds he can’t fathom.
When the painting gets too far ahead, he turns and resumes his stride, thinking about all the ways he can do his best to get what he wants.
.
He gets permission to access the security footage of the museum.
Who’s really going to deny an alpha anyway?
Billy finds her, or at least the back of her head, and he can’t help the excitement that after weeks of searching, he’s managed to get lucky and obtain a lead on her.
He talks to the security guard that walked her out. With a sleepy voice over the phone, the man tells him that she’s a frequent visitor to the museum on Fridays, and she doesn’t cause any trouble so he lets her stay a little after closing.
“She just likes looking at the pieces, and I can’t be mean to an omega as shy as her.”
Billy’s mouth twitches upward, amused at the biological imprint inside everyone to protect omegas. The men who’d done her a favour to deliver his coat had said near the same thing.
It had made him fond, of a sweet girl, that would no doubt be spooked if he showed up at her home unannounced. Even if he now had the means to trace her back to her home, he couldn’t take the risk. He had to play this right.
.
When you hear Edvard Munch’s The Scream is on display, you vibrate with excitement. Instead of going the opening week, you wait till your usual time the next Friday, when hopefully there’s much less of a crowd to contend with.
It’s not completely empty, but you’re okay with the sparse crowd, you smile, tiptoeing to peek over shoulders so that you can catch a sight of it before you’re at the front.
You love everything about it, the colour and the expressionism of it, you wonder how much the paint has faded over time. The little paragraph beside the painting describes an infinite scream, a universal anxiety, and you think you can almost feel that as you stare at it, the idea that you’re being watched sending a nervous thrill down your spine.
When you move away from the painting however, the feeling lingers. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes to shake the feeling, you don’t understand how a painting can have such an effect.
To clear your head, you find an impressionist nearby, Monet’s reflections of clouds on a lily pond, and you stand in front of it, letting out a long sigh.
When the distinct smell of bergamot hits you, you stiffen.
Your heart squeezes into your throat, and you try to look around as casually as possible, betas turn to look at you as they scent your distress in the air.
Did you feel like you were being watched- because you were actually being watched?
You take in another breath, and this time, you’re sure.
Cracked pepper, citrus-
The alpha was here.
Someone says your name behind you, and you turn in fright.
There he was. Dressed down in casual clothes, trying to blend in with the people around him- as if an alpha as handsome as him ever could.
Billy Russo was devastatingly gorgeous up close.
But you were fucked.
Your eyes widen and you take a step back, knowing that this was definitely about stealing his coat. He would no doubt try to make you pay for cleaning- or worse yet- a new coat entirely.
Your body flushes with fear as you back away from him on shaky legs.
His head tilts as he watches you go, dark eyes caught on your retreating form.
“Don’t run, omega.” He says easily, taking a single stride as you back away, his presence looming over you, igniting something in your stomach like a match being struck.
You make a small sound in the back of your throat, and you do exactly what he says not to.
You run.
Well, not exactly.
More like a quick walk, looking back to see if he follows, you beeline for the bathroom, hoping to hide in there for a moment.
You groan, splashing your face with water, internally grumbling over what you've gotten yourself into.
You should have never grabbed that stupid coat with your stupid omega senses always searching for the right alpha. What did you think? That just because he’d had an amazing scent meant that he wanted to take care of you?
No, he was probably going to scold you, and force you to pay him back, and you couldn’t afford three thousand for a coat.
Your throat tightens in panic, your body flushes with fear.
You couldn’t think too much on what he would do if he caught you, all you needed to focus on right now, was getting away.
So you take a deep breath and you shed your jacket, tucking it under your arm and stepping out of the bathroom behind someone.
There’s not a lot of people, but luckily you know the museum, and you take the most secluded paths that you doubt anyone unfamiliar to the museum would know of.
You sigh happily when you see the exit door in sight, making large meaningful steps, looking back every now and then. Behind you is empty, and you think that you might have actually lost him.
It sends a pang of sadness through you, but you shake your head to shove it away.
You look back once more when you push your way through the exit doors, making sure the path behind you is clear of any six foot alphas.
And you walk right into him.
You’re not sure it is at first, but his size and smell give it away. Your face is pressed securely to his chest, and his hands come up to grip your upper arms firmly.
You raise your head in panic, trying to wrench back from him.
“Relax omega, you’re not in any trouble, I promise.” He says, something in his voice that makes his words sound believable.
You whine in distress.
“Please, I’m sorry, I can’t afford to replace your coat. I shouldn’t have taken it.” You plead, voice wobbling with the struggle to speak under duress.
“Shh, little one, I’m not here to ask you for money.”
His words don’t register in your head, and you begin to cry. Thick swells of tears fall from the corners of your eyes.
“I can’t pay.” You struggle out in a tiny voice.
He grunts, his hands move to cup your face, your tears spilling onto his fingers instead.
“Omega.” He says meaningfully.
The command in his tone makes you look up at him, brain going quiet, the power of his voice catching your attention easily. His stern expression softens.
“I’m not here to make you pay for anything, and I promise you’re not in any trouble.”
You make a little sniffle.
“ ‘M not?” You ask weakly.
The corner of his mouth curves up.
“No, I just want to talk.”
“Talk?” You repeat dumbly.
His thumbs trace over your cheekbones gently, a soft tingling sensation swims in your head and settles at the top of your spine. Your eyelids flutter as you watch him nod.
“I’ve been searching for you for weeks, omega, since you left me that coat drenched in your sweet scent, I haven’t had a clear thought since.”
You gulp.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper.
“Don’t be sorry just-” He squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s looking for the right words, “Have dinner with me. Tonight. My treat.”
You take a deep breath, eyes widening.
“I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”
He lets out a swift breath, you worry that you might be aggravating him.
“What aren’t you sure about? Your safety?”
You feel your heart pick up its pace beneath your ribcage, tormenting your body with the feeling of panic.
You reach up, cupping his hands in yours and peeling them off your cheeks.
“Alphas are… notorious for getting angry when they don’t get their way.” You reply anxiously, your hands uncurling from his, filled with so much trepidation.
“I understand, but give me a chance to prove myself. There’s something between us, omega, you just have to open yourself up to it.”
You blink, stomach flipping as you debate your options.
You eye him warily, too afraid to say no, too scared of how he would react.
You take another step back, and his face looks pained, his body tense.
You shake your head, scared, taking another cautious step away.
“Please don’t run.” He says softly, it makes you pause.
Maybe… maybe a chance wouldn’t be so bad.
“What about lunch tomorrow?” Somewhere bright and public that would make you feel safer about being around him.
He lets out a slow breath.
“Lunch is great. Where?”
You think for a moment.
“We can meet right here, there’s a place not far from here with nice sandwiches.”
He inclines his head.
“Sandwiches are great.”
You give him a soft smile of amusement, still a little unsure.
“Okay, we’ll meet here tomorrow? Around 12?”
He nods, digging into his pockets for a moment before pulling a card out and extending it to you.
You blink, a little cautious, reaching for the obsidian coloured paper in his hand. You study the raised silver lettering, his name, his job title, his company.
“The one on the left is my cell. Let me know when you get here. If you want, we can look around the museum too.”
Something flips in your chest at the thought. You wonder what he thought of The Scream.
“No,” You mumble, shaking your head, “The museum is packed on a Saturday. I hate crowds.”
He nods in understanding.
“No crowds then, maybe we can take a walk in the park.”
“Maybe.” You reply, still a little unsure of this entire scenario.
“You're safe, Omega, I promise.”
You offer a sad smile.
“That's what they all say.”
.
He was going to kill every Alpha that had ever made you feel unsafe.
He sits in his car, after you'd denied his offer to at least take you home.
Your scent fades where he'd touched you, his body demanding more. Apples, so fucking sweet his mouth waters.
Halfway to his home, a text comes in from you, shyly informing him that you'd made it home.
He'd asked, wanted to make sure that you were safe as the late evening had turned to night.
He keeps it simple, types out a small message to put you at ease.
Thank you. Sweet dreams
.
.
.
A/N: Pretty sure y'all are gonna hate this. Sorry.
Also, just asking for more without leaving any kind of feedback makes me feel kinda used 😅
Warnings: Predator/Prey vibes, Serial killers, stalking, smut, minors DNI, Soulmate trope, protector vibes, anxiety, angst. Specific warnings come before each part.
[ FIND ] receiver is staying with sender who had them take the bed while sender takes the couch. in the middle of the night, receiver goes out to join sender on the couch because they don’t want to sleep alone. with roman roy
cws; f!reader
You were being driven absolutely crazy.
Roman asked you to spend the night with him because he didn't trust himself. He didn't explicitly say that he didn't trust himself to be alone, but it was heavily implied. It was his first night home after the wedding in Italy. Where you were heavily jetlagged and ready for bed, Roman felt like his father had torn his heart out of his chest and stomped on it.
You weren't in the room when the deal with Caroline was made, but you were friendly with Shiv. You knew what she'd told you, what she'd basically prepared you to deal with because she knew that Roman wasn't going to be holding up very well. How vulnerable and hurt he looked, how he'd sat on the floor in the moment, how broken he looked on the way back.
It wasn't until he got back to the wedding that you saw him again and he looked absolutely devastated. So, when you got back to New York he asked you to stay with him. You were quick to accept his offer, why wouldn't you want to stay with one of your closest friends?
Everything was fine until it came time to go to bed. You were just friends with Roman, something that you had to remind yourself of just about every day so you didn't allow your expectations to go unchecked. There was nothing more between you than that, and that was why he decided to let you sleep in his bed, while he slept on the couch.
It was a bit too gentlemanly for him, but it made your heart flutter that he would do something so kind for you so naturally you said yes. The issue? It wasn't kind.
It was so fucking unkind because you wanted nothing more than to be laying beside him. You've been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, for the last two hours because every time you think about sleeping you get to thinking about cuddling up with Roman and it's like your entire world starts to cave in.
At some point it became too much. You told yourself that you were getting up to get something to drink, that you just needed some water because of how long you had been laying awake.
"Not another fucking ghost."
"It's just me, not a ghost- Have you been hearing ghosts?" You asked, approaching him. He hadn't, he didn't look scared in the slightest bit, he just wanted you to know he was still awake. "Can I sleep out here?"
"You want to sleep on the couch?"
"Yeah." You responded, Roman only nodding as you moved to lay down with him. He had curled his face into the back of the couch, his body facing away from you and his face tilted slightly so he could look at you. You were quick to lay down beside him, your arms wrapping around him instinctively.
"What's wrong with the bed?" His voice was so much more gentle than you were used to, but from the slight crack in his voice it was clear that he had been crying.
"I wanted to sleep with you." It came out far quicker than something that felt like you were physically pushing it out should. But it was the truth. You just wanted to sleep with him, even if sleeping with him meant that you had to sleep on the couch.
Roman turned his head back as far as he could, looking at you as his hand fell onto your forearm. "I couldn't sleep either. You can... you can stay- you should stay with me."
"Wouldn't leave you for anything."
"Little too corny."
"Yeah. Realized that as it was coming out." That didn't stop him from smiling though, neither did you resting your face into the back of his neck as he leaned himself fully against you.
That night, a lesson was learned. Sleeping with Roman on a couch is somehow more comfortable than sleeping alone on a bed. Oh. You also learned that you're definitely in love with Roman Roy.
It’s the first day of the retreat and y/n is struggling not to pounce on Harry. Secrets are revealed and more secrets are being made.
warnings: none really. teasing. smut… (maybe)
word count: 2.5k
This morning was a rude awakening.
Literally.
First, Harry decided to tease me awake by using the hand he had on my stomach, letting his fingers play with the tiny bow on my underwear. Then, before I could fully be aware of my surroundings the lights in the bedroom turned on causing, everyone to groan. I bury my head back into the pillow as Harry nuzzles closer to me when a ding is heard throughout the room.
“Good morning. Today is your first full day at the retreat. Enjoy your first day of celibacy.” Lana announces throughout the room and no one makes a move to get up. Harry pushes his hips into mine pulling me closer to him with his arm.
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