#[ m-my swamp :'( ]
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when a big dog is overly excited and jumps on you, unaware of how big it is
#mash#m*a*s*h#bj hunnicutt#radar o’reilly#he’s talking about howling and baying at the moon. dog man#this is adjacent to my compilation of swamp rats howling snarling and barking
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#i am tender as hell tonight#bj hunnicutt#margaret houlihan#hawkeye pierce#charles winchester#charles emerson winchester iii#m*a*s*h#mashposting#mashblogging#my shitposts#swamp rats#i still need a name for all four of them but for now yes margaret is a swamp rat as is just and true#april fools#s8e25
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#m 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔#my pics#nature#nature reserve#nature photography#naturecore#forestcore#lakecore#lake#swamp#swampcore#swamp aesthetic#bogcore#bog witch#fairycore#fairy grunge#fairy aesthetic#faecore#pixiecore#goblincore#appalachian gothic#appalachian aesthetic
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I fucked around, I found out, and I came out with an AU that wouldn't make the slightest of sense in the actual universe of where the series take place
But do indulge me, cringe AUs are addictively fun to make.
Thanks to @weltthejellyfish , @lightdragon789 , and @astralbulldragon13 for writing like, 98% of everything, would be clueless about my own AU without you 🙏
Anywho chat. Casino AU.
The casino is kind of like?? A haunted house?? Or at least the concept of it. Yeah human owned places are scattered publicly, but halfblood owned ones are in more secluded and secretive places—no human was allowed into said places, only those who are like, an altruist for halfbloods, and even they have very limited access.
Bug getting into the casino would be very difficult, they'd have to first find out where the casino even is, find it and pretend to be an ally and after that slowly work their way up and face some pretty hard challenges
The casino is a family business that was bustling at first but Cercie caught wind of it and started hunting down every family member until it was only bodie left. With only Bodie running the business, he finds a college graduate, Marco, and decides to hire him as a dealer. A few years later and he finds a kid abandoned by his step parents, Timmy, and the rest is history.
•
The descriptions of the three in the drawings:
-Swamp of Fortune was a family business run by the Willowroots, but after Cercei caught wind of it she started hunting down every family member until it was only Bodie left. Stressed and paranoid about his safety, he closed the casino down and resulted to alcohol for a few years before meeting Marco, a shady college graduate who's determined to help he guy out of his slump. One thing lead to another and now the casino is both getting popular again and is under watch by the government for alleged suspicious practices.
-Marco Palustris Cydarki dropped out of college after his involvement with dangerous people led to concerns for his safety. While he majored in computer science, his real talent lies in the arts. After dropping out, he found refuge with Bodie, an older man who just happens to own a casino, one that has a history of questionable purchases and suspicious rumors. Marco has been assisting him in various capacities since being taken in. Whether Bodie's influence is protective or manipulative remains to be seen, but Marco has stuck around, likely owing something to his benefactor.
-Timmy’s life has been a mix of captivity and survival. Born under Cercie Fain’s control, his parents faked his death, cutting off his dragon wings to pass him off as a regular gator half-blood. After being auctioned off, he was raised by Elizabeth Wheat on a half-blood farm until Cercie’s men took him. He later escaped, and found himself stranded and injured in the city, where Bodie found him and became a father figure for the guy. Since then, he's grown into a mini-manager at the casino, following in Bodie’s footsteps as a floor supervisor. Despite being the smallest his presence is larger than life.
•

These little guys personalities are a mix of OG and BM. So more sadistically playful, hence the neutral/hate relationship Marco and Timmy have with bug in this AU. Timmy and Marco probably see Bug as just a new pet, but with them getting more popular around the casino and climbing up— they could turn from a pet to a threat to the two. When it’s revealed that they’re a cop, they probably do some very… thorough interrogation to make sure they are actually on the casino’s side. Then maybe Bug offers to be a Triple Agent. They're lucky Bodie likes them around, I fear they would NOT survive if he didn't enjoy their company, they'd be torn apart if it wasnt for him...he may have used that to his advantage..but Bodie’s just so sweet, they’d never suspect anything..
•
Crimes👍
Money laundering
Bootlegging
Illegal gambling
Probably murder ngl
Loan sharking
Labor racketeering
stock manipulation
Tax fraud
•
Stupid stuff:
They'd only start calling bug, well, bug, because they were caught in their trap, and they have a habit of playing with their food. After they start using Bug as a double agent they start throwing in other nicknames—First it was just bug but then it'd turn into more playful variations of it (IE: Waterbug, Sugarbug, Bedbug, etc) The day Bodie calls them Sugar Bug, they are caught so off guard
Bodie gifted Bug a pair of butterfly earrings as a welcome gift, only for the earrings to turn out to be a tracking device/listening ddevice.
Timmy would drink like five cocktails and get black out drunk because they don’t taste like alcohol. Mudslide would be his favorite though. I can picture Marco drinking red wine, he'd would like mulled wine or wassail during winter. Bodie is either whiskey, or bourbon, but during business meetings, they all drink Willowroot family recipe Moonshine
Bodie still drinks but has cut back. He only drinks half a bottle compared to the two a day he used to drink.
Bug's aim is so fucking bad bro, it's storm trooper level bad
More stupid stuff but timeline version, kinda, idk actually:
-Bug was tasked to locate the casino, gets chased and almost mauled by a halfblood before Bodie intervenes and helps Bug from dying.
- I'd imagine when Bug is recovering and is eager to work to repay Bodie back. He asks Timmy to keep watch of Bug and kind of assesses Bug to see if they could work at the casino and the two talk from there
-Then Bodie and Timmy along with Bug, go out on a walk, talking about taxe evasion, casinos, and mafias, all that fun jazz. But they stumble upon Tony and Sparkie trying to track down any rogue halfbloods. prompt them to relay it to Cercie that Bug found the casino and she sends the hunters to bug, just to tell them to get every secret they can find and report back to them. Which Bug is very hesitant on doing. Not only because they’ve helped them and shown they aren’t the monsters their people painted them as... also because these gator folk could kill them very easily.
Like the end of episode 3 or maybe when Marco comes in with info on Bug (that maybe Bodie asked Marco to do a background check or interrogate Bug idk man) and that’s when they ask Bug to be a double agent
-It’s been a few months (maybe) and Bug is stressing but pulling through being a double agent in relaying info to both sides. But also getting closer to the bois as they treated them slightly better then Cercie and her people did. Which results in Bug confiding in Bodie and being accepted into their lives.
Idk what to do with the rest bro you figure it out.
Last stupid stuff I promise
Okay I'm done now
Yippee @capitalmaudios @magebunkshelf @dayspriteofficial
#my art#will i go back to this AU?#who knows.#maybe i will#maybe i won’t#I've gotten over the drawings#i hate them now /lh /hj#sigh anyway#gator boys#the bug army#obsidian lantern#capital m audios#daysprite#yeah Marco and Timmy do kinda definitely hate bug ngl#i just really like drama okay#this AU is so cringe i cannot#but i love drawing the accessories on the boys#Swamp of Fortune
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thinking about how most of the rt fugitives arc happens off-camera... Lapiz Cave is pretty far from the town. also the game mentions Hero and Partner crossing a swamp and mountains between Mt. Blaze and Frosty Forest, which are not that far from each other. just imagine how long they've been running by that point.
#talking#there are a few other locations shown earlier in passing#*me staring at the air continent map* my tuoy#m having fun#there isn't even a swamp in the map. they mention it but qhere is it. idc I'll make it myself#pmd rt
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the latest loveliest edition to the family to your far right…… i present to u……. marshmallow !!!! 🎄
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WI.I.P of an art piece I meant to post today lol
It'll be a tomorrow thing

#marigold rogers#fnaf oc#fnaf#oc#fnaf monty#fnaf monty gator#fnaf security breach#m#my art#beeps art#swamp flower
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some messy sketches of the best surgeons in korea <3 :]

#the charles one is my favorite he’s just my silly silly guy#i was gonna do frank to but ferret is just hard to draw <//3#my little guys#mash#mashposting#m*a*s*h#mash 4077#mashblr#hawkeye pierce#hawkeye#trapper john mcintyre#trapper john#bj hunnicutt#charles winchester iii#swamp rats
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Listen, I don't even read erotica, but I'm G. M. Fairy hypewoman. Because if a woman can casually talk about her childhood crush on Shrek and self-publish DreamWorks movies smutty retallings with a smile on her face, that means she knows no shame and therefor is better than all of us and I have no other choice but to stan. Icon behavior, I'm not sorry
#g.m. fairy#gm fairy#g m fairy#get in my swamp#stay in my swamp#Shrek#bad beehavior#bee movie#monster fucker#monster romance#alien fucker#alien romance#fantasy romance#dreamworks
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#thank you for reblogging that tony i was possessed by another force immediately upon seeing that post#charles winchester#charles emerson winchester iii#bj hunnicutt#hawkeye pierce#swamp rats#hunnihawk#hawkbeej#beejhawk#m*a*s*h#mashposting#mashblogging#my shitposts#lil#s7e3
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i've got two chonky corabelle stories coming ur way but uhhh yeah neither of them are two fights for freedom whoops. one of them is basically two fights for freedom crammed into 7k if it was a modern AU. i plagiarized myself. anyway expect those as soon as i resurrect myself from the spring break rush at work 🪦👍
#genrambles#corabelle#the 7k fic will be rated M#and the 11k fic will be rated E#hehehe#also. neither of these stories were on the wip list#the wip list is covered in algae#the swamp of my tumblr links is a rancid place#don't even tread there#wip stuff
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2024 Reading - August
There I was at the beginning of the month all worried about my potential page count for August, and then I went and read well beyond that. It's fine. I'm just a baby. The good news is that I seem to have caught my reading stride again--I actually wanted to spend my evenings reading a physical book, and didn't feel like reading was a slog. And even though I'm only halfway toward my original reading goal for the year, I've made good progress through my digital TBR.
Total books: 9 | New reads: 8 | 2024 TBR completed: 1 (0 DNF) / 27/36 total | 2024 Reading Goal: 53/100
July | September
potential reading list from August 1st
First of all, please admire this graph:
I haven't read this many pages in a month in like two years. (This does count pages and hours I read for books I ultimately DNF.)
Moving on.
#1 - The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion, Vol 1 by Beth Brower - 5/5 stars
A quick, charming read with surprising depth. I actually cried at one point. And I definitely want to read more. It’s a pity each volume is so small and that none are available through any library in the state.
Note from end-of-the-month Phoebe: I bought Volume 2. And another book by the same author.
#2 - Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke - 5/5 stars ('24 TBR)
Expertly crafted historical setting effortlessly blended with the dangerously fantastical. Rich, complex characters who are people of their time. A totally engrossing writing style with asides and footnotes and sharp dialogue that left me laughing with delight. So many tiny elements that combined to make up exactly the sort of story I crave. I wasn't expecting to be enthralled, but I was from the first page. Maybe it rewired my brain a little bit.
I will grant it's not for everyone, but it was PERFECT for me. Just don't ask me what the plot is.
Reasons you may not like it: 1) It's huge and a bit of a time investment. 2) It is largely character-driven and, while well-paced, doesn't have a lot of external pressure to keep the story exciting. 3) It's somewhat verbose, in a Tolkien sort of way. 4) Something of an open ending (which, weirdly, didn't bother me?). 5) As the magic tips from human to fairy, it develops a dark and occult flavor. This is nice for people who like their fairies to remain distinctly wicked within the narrative (rather than roguishly morally gray), but there are decidedly dark elements. I tried to watch the show a few years ago and didn't make it through the first episode, and as I recall it was because the fairies came off a tad too dark for me. Somehow it was better on the page.
#3 - Escape from Camp 14: One Man’s Remarkable Odyssey from North Korea to Freedom in the West by Blaine Harden - 4/5 stars
This is both the biography of a man who escaped the North Korean prison camp where he was born, and also a biography of North Korea itself over the past 50-odd years. Sparse and somewhat stilted, full of facts and figures, it reads more like an article than a story. I'll say it's an important story, despite the surrounding controversy, but the writing style didn't do it any favors.
Note regarding the peculiar controversy surrounding this book: A few years after the book was published, Shin Dong-hyuk contacted Harden and revised his story as told here. The base details remained the same, but timelines and locations had changed. Yeonmi Park faced the same controversy following the publication of her memoir of her childhood in North Korea (In Order to Live; which, weirdly, I read in August of last year), which to me says less about the veracity at the heart of both individuals' histories and more about how trauma, in particular that brought about by political violence, can impact emotions and memory. If you're interested in reading this book, definitely check out Harden's updated forward examining Shin's altered account. Harden himself repeatedly acknowledges Shin as "an unreliable narrator of his own life".
More like this: "In Order to Live" by Yeonmi Park with Maryanne Vollers; "A Long Way Gone" by Ishmael Beah; "Infidel" by Ayaan Hirsi Ali.
#4 - Time Travelling with a Hamster by Ross Welford - 4/5 stars (audio)
If you couldn't tell, I'm desperately trying to fill in some of the missing letters for my second year of a self-imposed alphabet titles challenge. This is my fifth attempt at a "T". Attempts three and four are below in the DNFs. I decided to bank on an extreme change of pace with this one.
A solid middle grade adventure, and one I'll definitely recommend in future. Fun and unpredictable and my head hurts, because time travel always does that to me. Ridiculously short chapters, for some reason.
More like this: A bit like "A Wrinkle in Time", a bit like "Meet the Robinsons" (the movie; haven't read the books).
#5 - The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud - 4/5 stars
I DNF'd this last year after trying and failing for a month to get into it. I had definitely been in the perfect mood when I started the series last year, but for some reason The Empty Grave gave me no end of trouble, and I gave it up about a quarter of the way through.
Not so this time. This time it took me all of four days to finish.
Thankfully this follows the tradition of refreshing the reader's memory of previous events in the series, because I'd forgotten some of the pertinent details. Either because of my foggy memory or because of something else in the story, the ending fell kind of flat for me, like it was missing an element to deliver a good emotional conclusion, or like it didn’t fully satisfy the stakes set up at the start of the book. I consider this series more young adult than middle grade, but the way it wrapped up definitely felt middle grade in style.
Still a solid ending for sure, just a little confusing.
#6 - A Swiftly Tilting Planet by Madeleine L'Engle - 5/5 stars (reread) - 50th read of the year!
Comfort book my belovéd.
#7 - The Swamp Fox: How Francis Marion Saved the American Revolution by John Oller - 4/5 stars (audio)
Francis Marion is one of my dad's favorite figures of the Revolutionary War, and man, I can see why.
The writing itself is somewhat dry, crammed full of names and dates technical details of battles; but Oller manages to weave a solid narrative as he combs through the legends surrounding Marion and picks out the facts.
More like this: "Lion of Liberty" by Harlow Giles Unger.
#8 - Heidi by Johanna Spyri - 4/5 stars (audio)
"Heidi" was one of the movies I watched on repeat as a kid. Not the Shirley Temple version, but the 1968 made-for-TV version that apparently took some liberties with the plot. (But according to Wikipedia, it's most memorable for interrupting a football game for its premier.)
The book is a cozy classic children's book, plain and simple. It feels a bit like The Secret Garden with an orphan coming to an unfamiliar place and thriving there (plus helping an invalid thrive as well); and a bit like L.M. Montgomery pushing all of us to get outside and breathe some fresh air.
#9 - The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunsany - 4/5 stars (audio)
Absolutely gorgeous.
You might like this is you like: The Ballad of the White Horse by G.K. Chesterton; or the narrative style of the legends told by characters in the Queen's Thief series.
Useless fun fact: Lord Dunsany's name was Edward John Moreton Drax Plunkett.
DNF
Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell - Hilarious two-star reviews proved it's not something worth finishing and it doesn't deliver on the premise. (It's not even about Hamnet. It's a "re-imagining" of Anne/Agnes Hathaway-Shakespeare and guess what. She's a strong, wild woman who practices witchcraft in late 16th century England. Groundbreaking. I need to stop skimming summaries.)
The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert - Got about a third of the way through this one before I realized...I just didn't care. The premise was good, and the delivery was kind of meh but not bad--which, considering how rarely I read newer YA these days, was actually a point in its favor. But then we got to the reveal and I went "Wait. That's it?" and lost interest. I don't think magical realism is for me. Also, it didn't affect my decision to stop reading, but I didn't like the audiobook narrator.
Tales from the Hinterland by Melissa Albert - A companion book to the Hazel Wood duology, presented as the book-within-a-book that the Hazel Wood revolves around. I read a couple of the stories out of curiosity, but the allure of that book-within-a-book is gone when it's told in the same voice as the actual story.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith - I...have no idea. What is this? I got a little over halfway through it before it got to be too much and I gave up. I liked the writing voice well enough but the story meandered along a plodding, darkly sentimental route and I got lost. And a little disgusted.
Bridge of Birds by Barry Hughart - I wanted to like it, but it was too bawdy for me.
The Outlaws of Sherwood by Robin McKinley - Robin is such a hit-or-miss author for me, and this one was a solid miss. The premise was too absurd for me to stick it out. I might have given it another chapter, but none of the characters were really grabbing me, and I wasn't fond of how McKinley chose to portray Marian.
Currently Reading:
The Disorderly Knights by Dorothy Dunnett - I swear I'll have finished this by the end of the year.
The Boys in the Boat by Daniel James Brown - I'll finish this one pretty quickly.
#mine#2024 reading list#The Unselected Journals of Emma M. Lion#Beth Brower#Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell#Susanna Clarke#Escape from Camp 14#Blaine Harden#Time Travelling with a Hamster#Ross Welford#The Empty Grave#Jonathan Stroud#A Swiftly Tilting Planet#Madeleine L’Engle#The Swamp Fox#John Oller#Heidi#Johanna Spyri#The King of Elfland's Daughter#Lord Dunsany#side note: I think I'm reinstating my book buying ban with one or two caveats 😅
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Under The Blood Moon
Part I
Remmick x fem!reader


summary: in the humid belly of the night, you flee through the wild woods, breathless and bleeding, chased by a monster dressed in the skin of a man, and when he inevitably catches you, it's not to kill, but to keep. What follows is neither rescue or ruin, but a slow, savage claim written in blood, hunger, and heat.
wc: 8.1k
a/n: for this request, where anon wanted me to lean into Remmick's more monstrous side. My inbox is always open if anyone wants to submit more! also, thank you all so, so, so much for all the love, support, and general positivity you've all shown my fics lately—it genuinely means more than I can even put into words. I'm still blown away by the responses my fics have gotten in the last week, it warms my soul to no end every time I think about it <3 also have to credit axelboneboy for putting the idea of Remmick with a forked tongue in my head
warnings: heavy dubcon, dead dove: do not eat, blood kink, period sex, heavy breeding kink, monsterfucking, possessive behavior, coercive control, demon x human dynamics, religious imagery, breeding/ownership language, filthy talk, cockdrunk reader, forced orgasm, restraints/restraint kink, forced captivity, manipulation, southern gothic horror, explicit sexual content, obsession, violence, rough sex, blood play, dark romance, somnophilia undertones (reader too weak to consent properly)
likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!! please enjoy!!
Fic Masterlist/Main Masterlist
M I N D T H E T A G S
Part I: Hunt the Hare
Your breath saws raggedly through your throat as you run, legs scraping through the underbrush, branches slashing at your arms, the wet slap of mud against your calves. Your shoes are long gone, lost somewhere back on the splintered path—the soles of your feet raw and stinging with every frantic step.
Your dress, once a soft, homespun cotton in faded butter yellow, clings wetly to your skin, torn at the hem, heavy with damp earth and blood from shallow scratches. The thin petticoat underneath is ripped, the neckline torn where it caught on a low-hanging branch. Your bare legs gleam with sweat and dirt under the fevered gaze of the blood moon. The rough, hand-stitched seams bite into your skin with every frantic movement.
Behind you—
Footsteps.
Heavy, deliberate.
Not rushing, no.
He doesn't need to rush.
The blood moon glowers overhead, a bruised red eye in the sky, bleeding sickly light through the skeletal trees. The mist writhes around your ankles like grasping fingers, every breath clogged with the sour, choking scent of wet moss and rot. The forest feels alive—the cypress trees hunching closer, the swamp water sloshing in unseen black pools, the night thick with the buzz of unseen insects and the sticky slap of humidity against your skin.
You tear through a thicket, thorns slicing your thighs, the pain sharp but distant beneath the roaring panic. Your dress snags again—this time you rip free with a sob, fabric tearing in your frantic escape. You don't stop. You can't stop.
Your lungs burn. Your heart pounds a frantic, desperate rhythm against your ribs. Your hands are scraped raw where you shove branches aside. You don't know where you're going—only that you have to keep moving.
You think for one stupid, precious second that maybe you've lost him.
Then you hear it—
A low, rumbling chuckle.
The sound rolls across the mist like thunder, like a beast amused by the futile thrashing of its prey.
You shove yourself harder, feet slipping in the mud, the trees spinning in dizzy circles around you.
You should have listened.
The warning plays in your mind now, mocking and merciless—the old women in town, whispering in the feed store, their wrinkled hands making frantic crosses over their chests.
Don't go out on the blood moon.
There's something that walks these woods. A devil dressed in skin, hunting for its next meal.
You had laughed it off. Old wives' tales. A story to get unruly children to behave. Of course you didn't believe it...
Not until the heavy footsteps started following you.
Not until the woods seemed to shift, herding you deeper and deeper.
Not until the laughter—low, rich, and terrifying.
Your foot catches on a root hidden beneath the mist. You go down hard, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Dirt and dead leaves cling to your palms as you scramble up, only to be yanked backwards by an iron grip around your ankle.
A scream rips from your throat as you're dragged across the ground, nails clawing uselessly at the earth, the taste of dirt and blood thick on your tongue.
"Well, lookie here," a deep, amused voice drawls from the shadows, thick with a Southern slur, soaked in heat and hunger. "Thought you could outrun me, lil’ hare?"
You kick, thrash, cry but—but it's useless.
He steps into view.
For the first time, you see him. Truly see him.
Broad-shouldered, wrapped in the kind of strength that speaks of old blood, of violence written into the bones. His bangs are slick with sweat and sticking to his forehead, catching the moonlight in glints of silver and soot. His mouth is a slow, cruel curve, teeth flashing when he smiles—serrated and sharp, dangerous in their promise.
And his eyes—
God, his eyes.
Deep, burning red, like fresh blood spilled on freshly fallen snow.
They glint at you through the mist, pinning you in place, drowning you in a voracity so raw it almost hums against your skin.
You whimper, trying to crab-crawl backward, but he just tilts his head, slow and mocking, one hand reaching lazily down to wrap around your ankle again.
"You run real pretty," he murmurs, accent thick and sweet as sap dripping down the bark of a Maple tree, "but you ain't got nowhere left t' go, sugar."
The gnarled woods close around you, the mist swallowing your pitiful cries, the trees bending low to listen.
And the monster—
The one you were warned about—
Grins as he pounces.
The world spins in a dizzy, mud-slick blur as he crashes into you, the full weight of him knocking the breath from your lungs. His hands are everywhere—rough palms sliding up your trembling thighs, your waist, trapping your wrists above your head with a grip so strong it aches.
You thrash, wild and panicked, but it’s like fighting against a landslide.
Every frantic buck of your hips, every desperate twist of your wrists, every teary plea for help, only seems to amuse him further.
He straddles you easily, his thighs like iron on either side of your hips, his body radiating impossible heat. His breath ghosts over your neck—slow, savoring—and when he inhales, it’s with a deep, shuddering drag, as though he’s drinking you in.
You go still.
Frozen.
A scared little rabbit under the paw of a hungry wolf.
Slowly, he lifts his head, and when your eyes meet his, your heart lurches sickly into your throat.
Those eyes—
Red as the blood moon above.
Glowing, starving.
The corner of his mouth curls, a slow, predatory grin, delighting in your overwhelming fear.
"Y' smell it, don't ya?" he murmurs, low and thick with appetite. His nose brushes the curve of your neck, inhaling again, greedily, his voice gone almost reverent. "Sweet lil' thing...bleedin' just f'me."
Your stomach turns over, nausea and terror twining like barbed wire.
He slides lower, his body pressing yours into the soft, damp earth. You can feel every strong inch of him—the way the metal of his belt buckle digs into your hip, the way his thigh muscles tense against you like a coiled predator savoring the final moments before it goes in for the kill.
His nose trails down, brushing the hollow of your throat, the dip between your breasts—slow, agonizing, torturous.
You try to pull away—
He growls.
Not a human sound.
Something low, rattling. Monstrous.
His hand tightens around your wrists until your bones creak. His other hand snakes between your bodies, grabbing your skirt—what's left of it—and dragging it higher, baring your thighs to the muggy night air.
"No use runnin' now," he says, almost gentle, as if talking down a skittish animal. His accent thickens, each word dripping slow as syrup, artificially sweet. "Gotcha all laid out pretty...just how I like ya."
You whimper, twisting helplessly, but he just chuckles deep in his chest, the sound vibrating against your ribs.
And then he goes still.
For one terrible, breathless second, he freezes—nostrils flaring, whiffing deeply, body tense as a drawn bowstring.
His gaze drops between your legs—to where your petticoat is soaked through, a dark, spreading stain betraying you to the night.
The change is instant.
A groan tears from his throat—raw, guttural, almost pained—and when his eyes meet yours again, they're molten red, desperate, devouring.
"God Almighty," he rasps, voice cracking like dry kindling. "Ain't nothin' in this world sweeter than a bleedin' cunt."
You sob, humiliated, terrified, as he shifts lower, his body dragging down over yours.
One hand shoves your thighs apart—roughly, possessively—while the other pins your wrists like shackles above your head.
"You don’t even know," he murmurs, almost tender, mouth ghosting over your inner thigh, his breath scorching hot, even in Delta’s sweltering humidity. "Don't even know what you’re doin' to me, sweet pea."
You can feel it now—his mouth, open and panting against the sensitive skin of your thigh, the tremble in his hands as he fights the urge to tear you open like a cat stretched over a fresh kill.
He presses his face against you, inhaling, low and deep, the sound of it filthy in the night.
And then—
He licks.
Long, slow, obscene—dragging his tongue up the seam of your cunt through the blood-slick cotton, a helpless whimper shuddering out of you before you can stop it.
He growls in response—a sound of such raw, savage pleasure you feel it bone-deep.
"That's it," he croons against you, dragging his mouth over you again, harder now, more desperate. "Let me taste it, baby...let me drink ya down."
You shake your head weakly, gasping, tears kissing along your water lines, vision blurry.
He only laughs —low and delighted—and tears the soiled remains of your petticoat aside with a quick, brutal rip of fabric.
And then there’s nothing between you.
Nothing but blood, skin, and his appetite.
Your thighs quake against the rough spread of his hands as he forces you open wider, his breath scorching hot against the most vulnerable parts of you, the parts that have never known a man's touch.
For a moment, he just stares—a low, reverent rumble building in his chest, vibrating through the muggy, blood-heavy air.
You choke on a sob, trying to squirm away, but his fingers dig bruises into your thighs.
"Nuh-uh, sugar," he murmurs, thick with amusement, the sharp scrape of his accent dragging down your spine like a blade. "You gone run enough."
You feel the shift—
Feel it deep in your marrow—
When he leans in and lets his mouth part against you.
A soft, wet, sinful sound fills the air as he licks—
And not just with any tongue.
When he drags it up your slit, you feel it—the unnatural split, the way the forked ends flick and curl separately, tracing obscene patterns through the slick, blood-slick folds of your cunt.
Your whole body seizes, a ragged, fragmented noise spilling from your throat.
He hums low—pleased, greedy—and licks again, slower this time, letting the twin points of his tongue tease your clit, your opening, flickering back and forth in a rhythm that makes your back arch high against the dirt.
"Mmm," he groans into you, nosing deeper, breathing you in like he means to fill his lungs with nothing but your scent. "Ain't never had a taste so fine. Like honey drippin' straight from the comb."
Tears streak from the corners of your eyes and down your temples, hot and shameful. You wrench your wrists uselessly against his grip, but he just pins you harder, his hand tightening like an iron shackle around your wrists.
He pulls back—just enough for you to see the blood slicking his lips, his chin—
And the red gleam of his eyes as he smiles, wide and mean.
"You wanna know what I was fixin' t' do t' ya?" he drawls, voice syrupy slow, full of wickedness. "When I caught ya runnin', I thought I'd rip that pretty lil' throat open. Watch ya bleed out all soft an' sweet beneath me."
You sob—broken, desperate.
His smile sharpens.
"Still might," he says, almost cheerfully, leaning back in, his nose nudging your clit so softly it makes your legs jerk. "If ya don't play real sweet for me, darlin'."
The implication settles heavy as stone in your gut—brutal, absolute.
Be good.
Or be dead.
You nod, trembling so hard your teeth chatter.
He croons a soft, pleased sound, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh like a cat marking its prize.
"That's my girl," he says, thick and low, tongue flickering out to taste you again—slower now, more savoring. "Gonna treat ya real nice if ya stay still f'me."
You do.
You have no choice.
And he devours you.
The twin forks of his tongue work you open mercilessly—teasing, dipping, thrusting, flicking over the swollen nub of your clit in relentless, devastating licks. The sensation is too much—too sharp, too wet, too filthy—and you sob against the onslaught, your hips bucking helplessly beneath his iron grip.
He groans against you—filthy, hungry—and the vibrations make your vision white out at the edges.
"You taste like a blessin'," he mutters into your cunt, grinding the words into your skin with his mouth. "Sweet lil' Sunday sacrament, all laid out f'me t' worship."
You gasp, legs trembling violently, as the first orgasm builds—fast and brutal, cresting through you with the same merciless inevitability as the hunter pressing you down into the dirt, refusing to let up.
You don't want it.
You don't want it.
You can't want it.
But your body betrays you—spasming against his mouth, a shuddering cry breaking loose from your throat as you come, helpless and raw, against the wickedly incessant flicker of his tongue.
He moans as if your climax is the answer to damnation.
When you finally sag against the ground, limp and wrecked, he rises up over you—his mouth and chin slick with blood and slickness, his chest heaving, his cock straining hard against the rough denim of his trousers.
And for the first time—
There’s something in his face that’s not just hunger.
Something softer—
Something almost awed.
"Didn't think," he says roughly, almost to himself, "you'd be this damn sweet."
He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours—a rough, possessive, almost tender gesture.
"Ain't lettin' ya go now, sweet pea," he whispers, voice cracking like a prayer. "Ain't never lettin' go."
His hands trail down your body—calloused, devout—and you realize with a sick, fluttering horror that he’s not finished.
Not by a long shot.
He’s only just getting started.
You’re barely aware of him moving—too dazed, too wrecked—until the earth suddenly tilts wildly beneath you.
He rises to his feet in one smooth, terrifying motion, hauling your limp body up like you weigh nothing at all. His arms lock around your thighs, hoisting you over his broad shoulder, your face bouncing helplessly against the curve of his back.
The rough weave of his shirt scrapes your muddied cheek, damp with sweat and the humid Mississippi night. His scent floods your nose—salt and soil, blood and musk, something darker, wilder, something inhuman.
You whimper—too weak to fight—as his hand slaps possessively against the back of your thigh, holding you steady like a trophy kill.
"Shhh," he croons, his voice a low rumble vibrating straight through the very marrow of your bones. "Ain't no good wigglin', sweet pea. Y'belong t' me now."
Your fingers scrabble weakly against his shirt, nails catching on the coarse fabric, but he just laughs—a low, satisfied growl that rolls through the mist like thunder.
He starts walking—long, lazy strides deeper into the woods—further from the safety of town, further from anyone who could possibly hear you scream.
The trees lean in overhead, their gnarled branches clawing at the blood-colored sky, the cry of the cicadas like a chaotic choir, being taken deeper into the ugly underbelly of the forest.
The swamp breathes heavy and wet around you, the thick reek of stagnant water and moss closing over you like a suffocating shroud.
You can't see where he's taking you.
You can barely think.
Only feel—the slow, relentless sway of his body, the iron strength of his arms locking you in place as you look at the passing blur of gnarled foliage and plant litter every which way you twist your neck.
And his voice—
Low, filthy, almost tender—
Whispering promises against the slope of your thigh, each word branding itself into your skin.
"Gonna keep ya," he mutters, almost to himself. "Chain ya up nice 'n' sweet...keep ya all soft an' wet f'me...pretty lil' plaything, made jus' fer me."
You sob quietly, the sound muffled against his back, not that anything other than things that go bump in the night would hear anyways.
He doesn't stop.
Doesn't waver.
Just keeps carrying you deeper and deeper into the black heart of the woods, where no one will ever find you.
Where you’ll be his.
Body and soul.
Whether you want to be or not.
The world sways sickeningly with every step he takes.
Your body hangs limp over his shoulder, the thin fabric of your torn dress sticking to your skin, soaked through with sweat, blood, and the sticky breath of the Delta night. Every time he shifts you higher, the calloused drag of his palm across the backs of your thighs sends a tremor through your aching muscles.
The woods are different here.
Deeper.
Darker.
The trees older, skeletal and gnarled, twisted into shapes that look unnaturally human in the bloody moonlight, the knots in the bark large and gaping like mouths frozen mid-scream. The air thickens, heavy with the reek of standing water, mold, the cloying sweetness of rotting flowers.
You choke on it—each breath a struggle, sticky and wet in your throat.
He walks without hurry, the heavy tread of his boots sinking into the soft, muddy earth. The mist clings low around his legs, swallowing the ground whole. Crickets scream somewhere in the black, distant and frantic, but otherwise the world is eerily, horribly still.
You try to lift your head, try to see, but it only makes your vision tilt crazily, a low moan of sickness rising from your gut, feeling the bile trying to crawl up your esophagus.
He chuckles—low and knowing.
"Easy, lil' thing," he drawls, one broad hand stroking up the back of your thigh like a man soothing a spooked filly. "Ain't no sense gettin' y'self all riled."
His bloody fingers trail higher—under the torn remains of your petticoat, brushing the damp, sticky mess between your thighs. He hums, pleased.
"Still drippin'," he mutters almost to himself. "Still sweet."
The mist parts ahead like a curtain—and then you see it.
The chapel.
Or what's left of it.
A crumbling ruin of warped wood and sagging stone, half-swallowed by ivy and moss. The windows are shattered, jagged teeth of stained glass glinting in the blood moon's light. The steeple leans drunkenly to one side, bells long since stolen or fallen.
It should have been abandoned.
It was abandoned.
But now—
It breathes.
The mist coils around its dirty white skeleton, hugging it tight, the trees bending low like penitents around a grave.
He shoulders through the warped doors, boots echoing hollowly against the splintered floorboards. The air inside is thick—choking with mildew, smoke, old blood, the slow, sweet rot of something long dead, something long past salvation.
He carries you down the nave like a groom bearing a bride—if the groom were a wolf and the bride a carcass.
In the very center of the chapel, where once an altar might have stood, there’s only a low, crude bed—little more than a frame of old wood lashed together with vines and rope, a soiled mattress bowed low in the middle. Chains dangle from the bedposts, dark with rust, heavy enough to hold an ox.
Your heart stutters against your ribs.
He stops at the edge of the bed and lets you slide from his shoulder like a sack of grain, dropping you onto the mattress with a grunt. The springs wheeze under your weight. You scramble weakly, trying to push yourself up, but he just watches—arms folded, a slow, wicked grin playing at the corners of his bloody mouth.
"Look atcha," he says, voice dripping slow and fond. "All scared and pretty."
You whimper, trying to scoot back—away from him, away from the bed, away from the chains meant to shackle you to the floor. To him.
He lets you.
For a second.
Then he moves—faster than you can track—grabbing your ankle and yanking you back down the mattress with a savage jerk that knocks the breath from your lungs, chuckling low and mean under his breath, smiling like a predator playing with its food.
He looms over you—all broad shoulders and hungry red eyes, his chest heaving, his hair sweaty and sticking to his face. The crumbling roof of the chapel overhead caved in like a skylight created by time and erosion, the moonlight streaming in creating a bloody halo behind his head.
You kick out at him, weak and feeble. He catches your other ankle, spreads your legs wide with ease, and pins them to the bed.
"Y'know," he says thoughtfully, almost conversational, "I ain't never done this before."
You stare up at him, wide-eyed, chest heaving.
"Usually," he drawls, slow and deliberate, your blood dark and drying to his jaw, teeth sharp and daggered like the canines of a beast. "I catch my prey...an' I tear it open. Bleed it dry. Toss what's left t' the buzzards."
His hands slide up your calves, over your knees, rough palms mapping the shivering muscle of your thighs.
"But you..."
His grin widens, sharp and wicked.
"You got somethin' special in ya, sugar. Somethin' sweet. Somethin’ addictin’.”
His hands move higher, pushing the torn hem of your dress up around your hips.
"Gonna make a pet outta you," he murmurs, almost worshipful. "Gonna keep ya chained up nice and proper. Keep ya fed, keep ya warm...keep ya wet and loose."
You sob, twisting against the hold he has on your legs, but it only makes him chuckle low in his throat.
"Not just a meal, no sir," he says, voice thick with something like wonder. "Ain't never turned a meal inta a pet before."
He leans down, his mouth brushing your ear, his breath hot and damp and hungry.
"Gonna fuck ya every which way," he whispers, each word sinking into your flesh like thorns pricking your skin. "Gonna break ya in nice and slow. Make ya forget y'ever had a name b'fore me."
You shake your head, tears spilling over.
He just laughs—low and delighted—and kisses your temple, obscene in its mockery of tenderness.
"You'll see," he croons. "Ain't nothin' sweeter than bein' wanted, sweet pea. Nothin' sweeter than bein' kept and cared for.”
He shifts, reaching for the chains.
You hear the clatter of iron against wood, the heavy clink of rusted links.
Your blood goes cold.
You realize—
This isn't a nightmare you can wake from.
This is your life now.
Your body.
Your blood.
Your soul.
All belonging to him.
And the monster smiles.
The chains rattle in his fists, thick and rust-bitten, heavy enough to feel like fate.
You kick again, heart thundering in your chest, but it’s nothing against him.
He grabs your wrist with one hand, slamming it down against the splintered wood of the bed frame. The iron cuff closes around your wrist with a brutal finality, locking tight with a groaning snap of the old metal.
You cry out—a broken, pitiful sound that nothing but the cicadas will hear.
He shushes you—a low, almost tender croon—as he grabs your other arm, dragging it above your head and shackling it too.
The chains clink as you struggle, the cold bite of them against your bruised skin making you tremble harder.
"There we go," he murmurs, stepping back to admire his work, red eyes gleaming under the dripping shadows of the ruined chapel. "All trussed up like a good lil' prize hog."
You sob again, humiliated, terrified—but he only grins, predatory and bright, his chest rising and falling with heavy, panting breaths.
Slowly, leisurely, he kneels over you.
His hands trail down your body—dirty palms leaving streaks of blood, sweat, and swamp filth over the ruined silk of your dress. He hooks his fingers into the ripped neckline and tears—a wet, brutal sound of fabric giving way.
Your dress peels open like fruit skin, baring your chest to the swamp-choked air.
He makes a sound then—not quite a growl, not quite a groan—something broken and devout.
"Goddamn," he breathes, one palm spanning your ribs, feeling your heart rabbit helplessly beneath the thin shell of bone and skin. "Y'look sweeter 'n a sunrise after the flood."
His thumb brushes one nipple, watching it harden instantly under the humid chill.
You try to twist away—shame burning hotter than the blood in your veins—but the chains rattle uselessly, locking you in place.
He chuckles, low and dark.
"Ain't no hidin' from me, sugar," he says, rough and sweet, dragging his knuckles down your trembling belly. "Ain't no shame neither. Y'was made fer this. Made fer me."
His hands find the bunched remains of your petticoat around your hips.
Slowly—cruelly slow—he tears the rest away.
Until you're laid bare before him.
Blood-slick, shaking, eyes wide and wet.
He stares at you for a long moment—drinking in the sight of you like a starving man at a banquet that hasn't been permitted to feast yet.
You can feel the weight of his gaze—heavy and hungry.
"Mmm," he hums deep in his throat.
"Prettiest lil' pet I ever seen."
He palms your thighs, rough thumbs pressing bruises into the soft flesh as he pushes your legs open wider.
You sob—mortified, helpless—but it only seems to please him more.
"Lookit that," he murmurs, dipping his head down, close enough that his breath fans hot across your cunt. "Still bleedin'...still so damn sweet."
And then—
The flicker of heat—
The twin points of his forked tongue lash out, slick and obscene, stroking along the weeping seam of your cunt.
You gasp—body jolting violently against the chains—a sharp, helpless cry tearing from your throat.
He groans deep, low and guttural, as he licks again—slow, deliberate—tasting the blood and slick pooling between your thighs.
He moves with maddening patience—the split tips of his tongue teasing either side of your clit, circling, flicking, taunting.
"You hear that?" he mutters thickly, rubbing his mouth over your cunt, tongue dragging up every inch of you. "Hear how messy y'are f'me, sugar?"
You can't answer.
You're beyond answering.
Your thighs quiver against his shoulders, muscles locking and spasming as he devours you—slow, relentless, merciless.
He pulls back only long enough to watch you squirm—your face flushed, your lips trembling, your hips jerking up helplessly as if chasing the wicked flick of his tongue.
"Poor thing," he croons, mock-sweet. "Y'bleedin', cryin', achin'...and ya still openin' them pretty legs f'me."
He laughs—low and pleased—and dives back in, feasting like a man who'd been starved for a hundred years.
You can already feel yourself unraveling—
Can feel it building again—
That terrible, traitorous heat coiling low in your belly, shame burning so brightly it tastes like iron on your tongue.
He tongues you deeper, forked tongue writhing against your soaked, blood-slick entrance, and you sob, straining against the chains as your body gives in.
You come—
Harder than before—
Your cunt clenching helplessly around nothing, your blood and slick gushing against his mouth.
He groans, hips grinding into the bed, rutting against the mattress like he can't stand it, like the taste of you is killing him.
He pulls back, panting hard, mouth and chin dripping in a fresh coat of crimson.
When he looks at you—
It's not just hunger.
It's possession.
"That's it, baby," he rasps, voice raw, shredded with want. "Give it all t' me. Ain't gonna leave nothin' behind."
You whimper brokenly, chains rattling as you pull uselessly at your bonds.
And then—
You see it.
Him undoing his belt.
The clink of metal, the low rasp of fabric sliding down heavy thighs.
His cock springs free—thick, veined, flushed red—already weeping at the tip.
Your mouth goes dry with terror.
He crawls up the bed like a predator stalking wounded prey, his glowing eyes locked on you, his smile wide and merciless.
"Gonna claim ya proper now, sugar," he says, his voice low and trembling with barely-restrained hunger. "Gonna fuck ya bloody, fuck ya dumb...make ya forget the whole damn world 'cept me."
You sob, head thrashing weakly against the mattress.
He just laughs—low, light, loving—as he fits the head of his cock against your slick cunt.
And pushes in.
The first push of him inside you is a shock—
Stretching, burning, splitting you apart on the thick, heavy drag of his shaft.
You sob, twisting against the chains, but he just groans guttural and filthy, shoving deeper with a slow, brutal roll of his hips that forces your body to open up for him.
"There we go," he pants, sweat dripping from his brow to your heaving chest. "Takin' me real sweet, ain't ya, darlin'?"
The stretch feels endless, unbearable—every ridge and vein of him dragging against blood-slick, swollen flesh.
Your body tries to resist, clenching tight, but he's relentless—grinding deeper, forcing himself past the trembling, fluttering grip of your cunt.
"You fightin' me," he groans, voice ragged with pleasure, "but ya can't stop it, can ya? Body knows. Body knows who owns it now."
Tears spill from your eyes, hot and helpless.
The chains rattle with every shuddering breath you take.
He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, his skin sweaty and warm same as yours, trapping you together in the sticky, blood-sweet air.
"Y'made fer this," he whispers, voice breaking on the edges of worship. "Made fer me."
With a slow, grinding thrust, he bottoms out—buried to the hilt, your body stretched taut around him, trembling with the effort to contain him.
He doesn't move at first.
Just breathes—hard, shuddering—his cock pulsing hot inside you, his hands gripping your hips so tight you know you'll wear the bruises for days.
"Sweetest cunt I ever had," he murmurs, almost dazed, rolling his hips just enough to grind against the blood-slick walls of your cunt. "Sweetest thing I ever tasted."
You whimper, wrecked, overwhelmed.
He starts to move—slow at first, almost lazy, dragging his cock nearly all the way out before slamming back in with a wet, obscene slap of skin on skin.
The bedframe groans under the force of it. The chains rattle. The chapel breathes with the rhythm of it—an old, rotted cathedral witnessing your ruin.
He keeps his forehead pressed to yours, breath coming hot and ragged between clenched fangs.
"Fuck," he snarls, thrusting harder, grinding deep. "Ain't never...fuckin'...lettin' you go, sugar."
Each word is punctuated by a savage snap of his hips, driving you higher up the mattress, making the iron cuffs bite deeper into your bruised wrists.
Your world narrows to the brutal stretch of him inside you, the thick heat of his body pinning you down, the filthy grind of his cock dragging more slick, more blood from your battered cunt.
He groans again—a raw, broken sound—and pulls back to stare down at where your bodies meet.
Blood coats his cock, painting the base of it slick and glistening in the crimson moonlight.
He growls—a deep, vibrating sound—and slams in harder, hips jerking.
"Bleedin' all f'me," he mutters, awe bleeding into the filthy cadence of his voice. "Markin' me proper. Good lil' bitch, lettin' me ruin ya."
You sob—don't know if it's from the pain, the shame, the unbearable rush of something darker pooling low in your belly.
He leans in, dragging his split tongue up your throat—slow, languid—tasting the salt of your skin.
"Gonna fill ya up," he rasps, thrusting harder now, the rhythm getting ragged, desperate. "Breed ya good. Chain ya to this bed and fuck ya full every night till y'don't know nothin' but my cock."
Your hips jerk helplessly against him, legs trembling, blood and slick dripping down your thighs onto the ruined mattress.
He bites down suddenly—not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to bruise—right over the frantic pulse at your throat.
You keen—a high, broken noise—and the orgasm hits you like a lightning strike.
Your cunt clamps down around him, spasming violently, drawing a raw, broken snarl from his chest.
"That's it," he growls, fucking you through it, his cock thickening even more inside you. "That's it, dove, milk it. Milk it good."
You come undone—
Body locking, heart hammering, chains rattling—
As he drives you through wave after wave of brutal, bloody pleasure.
His rhythm falters—
Hitches—
And with a hoarse snarl, he slams deep one last time.
You feel it—
The hot, thick flood of him spilling inside you—
Coating your walls, mixing with the blood already slicking your thighs.
He stays buried deep—panting, shaking, his arms trembling where they cage you in.
For a long moment, the only sound in the chapel is the labored, broken gasps of breath—his and yours, tangled together in the hot, heavy dark.
He nuzzles into your throat, murmuring low, senseless things against your skin.
"My girl," he breathes, over and over, as if trying to convince himself. "My sweet girl."
You lie limp beneath him—wrecked, used, ruined—your body claimed in every way it can be claimed.
And somewhere—
Buried under the terror, the humiliation—
A dark, terrible heat begins to flicker in your chest.
You're his now.
There’s no going back.
And the monster—
The one you were warned about—
Whispers that maybe, just maybe—you don’t want to.
The world feels soft and hazy when he finally moves.
You’re barely aware of it—just a weak, blood-warm ache where your legs sprawl open, your wrists burning raw from the chains. Every nerve ending feels stretched thin, humming with the aftershocks of being wrecked and claimed and ruined.
He shifts over you—his cock sliding free with a wet, filthy sound that makes you flinch—and you feel the thick, sticky mess of blood and come seeping down your thighs.
You whimper weakly, body too used up to fight.
But instead of leaving you—instead of walking away like the monster you thought he was—
He stays.
He kneels between your ruined thighs, the broken mattress sagging beneath his weight, and for a moment he just looks at you—head cocked, hair wild and dripping sweat, red eyes burning.
Something like awe flickers across his face.
"Sweet lil' mess," he murmurs, voice thick, almost tender.
One large, calloused hand cups your knee—thumb stroking slow, idle circles into your bruised skin—as he leans in.
You feel the first press of his tongue before you can even gasp.
He drags that wicked, forked tongue up the inside of your thigh again, lapping at the blood and slick smeared there like it’s the finest ambrosia.
He groans deep in his chest, his hands tightening on your trembling legs to hold you wide open for him.
You sob—broken, humiliated—but he just keeps licking, slow and steady, cleaning you up like a beast grooming his mate.
"Can't waste none of it," he mutters between licks, his breath damp against your skin. "Every drop...mine."
You twitch beneath him, wrists jerking weakly against the chains, but there’s no strength left in you.
There’s no fight left at all.
He licks higher—over the tender, battered folds of your cunt—gathering the mixture of blood and seed with obscene thoroughness, his tongue darting deep, savoring every taste.
You shudder violently, a broken whimper escaping your throat.
He shushes you again—so softly, so lovingly it makes your heart twist.
"Easy, sweet pea," he croons against your skin. "Ain't hurtin' ya now. Jus' takin' what's mine."
His tongue splits and flicks, teasing your clit, making your hips jolt despite yourself.
"That's it," he murmurs, smiling against you. "That's my good girl."
When he’s satisfied—when every drop of blood, every smear of slick has been licked from your trembling body—
He pulls back, wiping his mouth lazily with the back of his hand.
He looks down at you sprawled out on the soiled mattress—swollen wrists chained, thighs open, skin sticky with sweat and tears—and his smile softens.
"Pretty lil' thing," he murmurs, reaching out to thumb the tear tracks from your cheeks. "Took it so good. Knew ya would."
You try to flinch away from his touch, but it’s pathetic—a trembling, fragmented twitch.
He hums low in his throat, pleased.
Slowly, purposefully, he reaches for the shackles binding your wrists.
For a sick, dizzy second, you think he’s going to tighten them—punish you for even thinking of pulling away.
But instead—
You hear the click of old iron locks giving way.
The weight of the cuffs falls from your wrists, leaving raw, angry bands of flesh behind.
You sag back against the mattress like a puddle of liquid bones and flesh, too stunned, too hollowed out to move.
He watches you for a moment—head tilted, red eyes gleaming—like a man admiring the final brushstroke of a masterpiece.
Then he moves.
He scoops you up with terrifying ease—one hand under your knees, the other cradling your back—lifting you like you're weightless.
You make a weak, pitiful sound against his chest, but he just hushes you—soft and sweet—pressing a rough kiss to the crown of your filthy, sweat-drenched hair.
"Shhh, baby," he croons. "Ain't gonna hurtcha. Ain't gotta run no more."
He carries you to the far corner of the chapel—to a weathered old pew tucked into the shadows—and settles down onto it, shifting you into his lap like you belong there.
Your thighs straddle his hips, your chest crushed against his filthy shirt, your legs dangling uselessly on either side of his body.
He rocks you—nice and easy—the way a man might rock a newborn calf.
And all the while, he talks.
Low, sweet, steady.
"Got a place fer ya," he murmurs into your hair. "Back in the bayou. Little cabin where nobody'll never find ya."
His hands roam lazily over your battered body—soothing, petting, possessive.
"Got a bed there," he goes on, voice almost dreamy. "Big enough to tie ya spread-eagle. Big enough t' keep ya wet and ready all the time."
You shudder in his lap—a broken, helpless thing—but he just rocks you harder, nuzzling into your neck.
"Teach ya how t' live on nothin' but my cock and my seed," he whispers. "Keep ya full, keep ya heavy...make ya forget the whole damn world but me."
You sob softly against his chest.
He smiles against your hair.
"That's it," he croons. "That's my sweet girl."
His hand slides between your thighs again—unhurried, filthy—and cups the used, swollen heat of your cunt, thumb stroking lazy circles into the mess he left behind.
You twitch helplessly in his lap.
"Always knew I'd find somethin' special out here," he mutters, more to himself than to you. "Didn't reckon I'd find my forever meal...my lil' blood-slick pet."
He presses his mouth to your temple—a kiss, obscene in its tenderness.
"Mine now," he whispers. "Mine 'til the river runs dry."
The chapel groans around you—old wood settling, whispering, watching—as he rocks you slowly in his lap.
You’re weightless against him.
Soft.
Malleable.
The chains are gone, but you’re no freer than you were before.
Your body has surrendered.
Your mind—
God help you—isn't far behind.
He hums low under his breath, a tuneless, lazy thing—some old hymn twisted into something darker. Something damned.
His hands roam over you without hurry—stroking your bruised thighs, cupping the raw stretch of your hips, smoothing down the arch of your spine.
One of his palms cups the back of your head, pushing your face against his chest, holding you there like a possession too precious to lose.
"You feel it, don'tcha," he murmurs against your hair. "Way y'body melts into mine. Way y'cunt still pulses f'me even now."
You whimper—soft and splintered—and he smiles, wide and slow.
"Don't fight it, sugar," he says, low and coaxing. "Ain't nothin' left but me now."
You feel the slow, lazy roll of his hips beneath you—the thick, heavy press of his cock, still slick and blood-warm, nudging insistently between your thighs again.
You sob weakly, your body jerking against his.
But it’s useless.
Inevitable.
He shifts you higher, lining himself up, one broad hand guiding your hips as he pushes back inside—slow, deep, claiming.
You choke on a whimper, trembling violently in his lap as he fills you again—stretching your battered, blood-slick cunt to the limit.
"There we go," he croons. "There she is."
He rocks you on his cock—gradual, thick, obscene—grinding deep with each lazy roll of his hips, never pulling out, never letting you escape the feel of him inside you.
His mouth finds your ear, breath hot and heavy.
"Y'ain't even know my name yet," he murmurs, almost laughing. "Been takin' ya, ruinin' ya, bleedin' ya dry...and you don't even know what t' call me."
You shudder helplessly against him.
He presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw—filthy, tender.
"Remmick," he breathes.
"That's what ya call me, sugar."
Another slow grind of his hips—another thick, aching thrust deep inside your ruined cunt.
"Say it," he whispers, voice breaking sweet and sharp against your skin. "Say my name."
You sob—mind reeling, body burning—but the word tumbles out of you like a rejected prayer.
"Remmick."
He groans, raw and reverent, and rocks you harder, the weathered pew creaking beneath the slow, punishing grind of his body.
"Good girl," he pants, forehead pressing to yours. "Sweet lil' thing...mine now. Mine forever."
He kisses you then—
A brutal, clumsy thing—
Mouth crushed against yours, tasting of blood and salt and something older. Something primordial.
You sob into the kiss, legs trembling against his hips, your body clinging to him without thinking, without reason.
Remmick smiles against your mouth.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Ain't no runnin' now. Ain't no leavin'."
He rocks you again—slow, deep—every thrust branding you, sinking you deeper under his spell.
"You got my name now," he whispers, voice thick with triumph and devotion. "And soon enough, baby...you gonna carry the rest of me too."
His hand slides down, splaying wide over your lower belly—
Possessive, filthy, promising.
"You gonna carry me inside ya, sweet pea," he breathes, voice almost shaking. "Gonna grow fat an' heavy with me...my blood, my seed, my babies."
You sob against his chest—wrecked, overwhelmed—as he rocks you through it, slow and relentless, every movement carving your fate deeper into your body.
And Remmick—
The monster, the devil, the man—
Just holds you tighter, crooning low and filthy against your skin.
"My girl," he whispers. "My sweet, bleedin' girl."
The slow grind of him inside you never stops.
Remmick rocks you lazily in his lap—the pew creaking under the weight of his possession—each slow thrust pushing you deeper under, erasing everything but the burn and the stretch and the unbearable, filthy tenderness of him.
Your head lolls against his shoulder, sweat-soaked hair sticking to your temples, every nerve frayed to a live wire.
He strokes your back in long, rough sweeps—the calluses of his palms rasping over every bruise, every bite mark, every blood-smeared inch of you.
"You feel it, don'tcha, sugar," he breathes into your ear, voice sweet and sticky as syrup. "The way yer body listens to me now. Way it wants me even when you don't."
You sob weakly, too broken to deny it.
His arms tighten around you—one locked around your back, the other spreading wide over your hips, guiding you up and down the thick, blood-slick length of his cock.
"You was made fer this," he murmurs, his breath hot and humid against your skin. "Made t'be mine. Made t'be fucked full, bred fat, kept warm an' wet in my bed."
He rocks you harder—deeper—the swollen head of his cock grinding up against that raw, aching place inside you, making your whole body jolt and shudder helplessly.
Your wrists curl weakly against his chest, the instinct to cling overpowering even your fear.
Remmick hums low, satisfied.
"Good girl," he praises, voice rough and ragged. "Good lil' thing, clingin' so sweet."
He kisses the side of your throat—a slow, open-mouthed drag of lips and teeth—and you feel him smiling against your pulse.
And then his voice drops lower—softer, darker—as he begins to whisper.
"But if y'ever think about runnin'..." he murmurs, rocking you a little harder, his cock dragging thick and slow inside your cunt, "if y'ever try t'leave me, lil’ hare...I'll hunt ya down."
You shudder violently in his arms.
"I'll drag ya screamin' back by that sweet lil' ankle," he whispers, almost lovingly. "Chain ya tighter. Fuck ya harder. Make sure next time ya can't even walk."
You sob—broken, breathless.
He kisses your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your tears.
"Maybe I'll break that pretty lil' ankle," he muses, his voice so soft it’s almost a lullaby. "Keep ya bed-bound...keep ya needy...make ya beg for me t'feed ya, to fuck ya, to touch ya."
You whimper, hips jerking against him without meaning to.
Remmick groans low in his chest, thrusting up deeper inside you.
"You'd look so pretty like that," he pants. "All bruised up an' cryin'...beggin' me to keep fillin' this sweet lil' cunt."
His hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit—swollen, aching, blood-slick—and starts to rub slow, relentless circles.
You gasp, high and needy, clutching at him, legs trembling where they sprawl weakly around his hips.
"That's it," he breathes, rocking you harder now, rubbing you faster. "Cum f'me, sugar. Milk me good. Show me who ya belong to."
You sob, mind fracturing under the thick, unbearable pleasure—under the dirty, endless tenderness of his voice—under the awful, overwhelming rightness of it.
Your orgasm slams into you—sharp, brutal, dizzying—your whole body clenching down around him, sobbing his name against his throat.
Remmick groans, burying his cock deep one last time, grinding slow and thick against the fluttering spasms of your cunt.
"That's my girl," he whispers, voice cracked and worshipful. "My sweet, bleedin' girl. Mine."
He holds you through it—rocking you gently, slowly—cooing filthy promises against your skin.
"Never lettin' ya go," he breathes, voice drunk with possession. "Never."
And you know—
With a dark, shattered certainty —
That he’s telling the truth.
Your body trembles in his lap—used, slick, overflowing—and still, Remmick doesn’t stop.
Still buried deep inside you, he rocks you lazily—thick, slow drags of his cock against your raw, battered walls, the wet, messy sound of it filling the ruined chapel.
You whimper, limp and broken against his chest.
He shushes you, petting your hair, pressing kisses to your temple, your jaw, your throat.
"That's it, sweet pea," he praises. "Just keep takin' it. Keep takin' me."
His hips move slower now—deep, grinding thrusts that make you feel every vein, every throb of him inside you.
You sob weakly when you feel the telltale pulse of his cock thickening again—feel the way he holds you tighter, groaning low in your ear.
"Poor thing," he breathes, voice shaking with hunger and something darker, deeper. "Ain't built t'keep up, are ya?"
He rocks you harder, the sticky, bloody mess of your body clinging wetly to him.
His mouth finds your ear again—voice low, filthy, almost laughing.
"Y'know why?" he whispers. "Y'know why ya break so easy f'me, sugar?"
You whimper, unable to answer, unable to think.
He licks the shell of your ear—slow, lazy—before speaking again.
"'Cause I ain't no man, sweet thing," he says, voice rich with wicked delight. "Ain't no mortal that tires out an' falls asleep after one fuck."
He grinds deeper—hips jerking, cock twitching inside you.
"A demon’s stamina," he murmurs, "ain't like a man's."
You shudder violently in his arms.
"I can do this," he breathes, voice low and full of terrible promise, "forever."
He thrusts again—slow, heavy, final—and you feel it.
Feel the thick, molten flood of him spilling inside you again—hotter, heavier than before, painting your ruined cunt, seeping out around his cock.
Remmick groans low, deep in his chest—a sound full of brutal satisfaction.
He holds you there—stuffed full, pinned tight—grinding the mess deeper with lazy, possessive rolls of his hips.
"There we go," he murmurs against your throat. "Fill ya up good. Mark ya so deep ya gonna leak me out fer days."
You sob, a broken little sound that only makes him hum in pleasure.
He strokes your hair, your back, rocking you gently in the wreckage of the chapel.
"You're mine now," he whispers. "Ain't no priest, no preacher, no god up there that can take ya from me."
He kisses your temple—filthy, loving.
"Belong t' me, sweet lil' thing," he breathes. "My pet. My meal. My mate."
You lie limp in his lap, broken open, owned.
And you realize—with a dark, awful clarity—that you don't even want to run anymore.
You belong here.
With him.
Forever.
And the monster—
The demon—
Your Remmick—
Rocks you slowly into the night, crooning sweet, filthy promises against your skin.
#yes i did write the word 'cunt' 27 times and no i won’t apologize#dear lord this is the filthiest thing I've ever wrote#sinners 2025#sinners au#sinners fic#remmick#remmick x reader#sinners remmick#jack o'connell
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I wonder when I started feeling about festivities the way I am now, with no will to celebrate, get involved in and enjoy them, considering them more of a stressful chore and something I just need to go through as quickly and less painfully as possible 😞
#I wonder#it's been few years now of the same charade and each year is a little worse#as to why I feel this way I believe it's mainly to the fact that I am surrounded by people#who don't see and live these occasions like I do or at least would like to live and celebrate#I 'm not saying I'm right and they're wrong - just different but still this clashes between us#moreover I feel personally like each year there is something less to rejoice for#due to personal and global events (or non events in my case)#that's on me of course but I just feel so drained#especially today - because while I would compromise and bear other festivities that are shared#today for example it is my birthday and yet people insist on celebrating the way they want#despite me having voiced my feelings about this#so here I am today more than ever literally repeating to myself that I just need to resist and suck it up#and it's been like this for a while#I know it's me who did and is doing something wrong to have arrived at this point#and I still struggle to find a way to live things my way#it involves a lot of courage and some disregard for what other people think#that I still can't find in myself at least not enough#and not just about this matter but about life in general#it's probably my only true wish for next year if I have any#to have the strength to work through this swamp I'm stuck in currently
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Faking It ♡ l.hs [m]
⋆ pairing: lee heeseung x reader
⋆ wc: 12.5k
⋆ synopsis: You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. Over the three years, both you and Heeseung had become the most popular student in the university. You barely spoke to each other, just exchanged the occasional spiteful look in the hallways. You had sworn never to speak to Heeseung again—until one day, he unexpectedly asked you to be his fake girlfriend.
⋆ warning: not proof read, vomiting, public humiliation, fingering, p in v, pet names, unprotected sex, nipple play, bullying, teasing, name calling, fake dating, kissing, harsh language, swearing, spitting, choking, crying, lmk if I missed anything!
18+ mdni | masterlist
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅
You had never liked Heeseung, and he had never liked you either. It all began when you were both freshmen in university and were invited to a spring break party at a frat house. After consuming almost 6 shots of alcohol, you felt dizzy and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. Unintentionally, you left the door slightly open, and Heeseung, recording the entire incident, uploaded it to his social media account, which nearly all of your school followed.
"excuse me, what?!” you exclaimed in disbelief. As a new school year started, it marked your third year in university. You were on your way to your lockers to grab your belongings when Heeseung suddenly appeared, nonchalantly leaning against the lockers, resembling the stereotypical high school crush.
He simply folded his arms against his chest and repeated the question bluntly, “Be my fake girlfriend for the entire semester.” No ‘please’ or anything, just a short and direct order. Even you had to admit he was extremely hot—black hair, sharp and distinct features, muscular figure—but you definitely hated that attractive face of his due to the incident.
You crossed your arms and gave Heeseung a once-over, adopting a contemplative expression. "Why do you need a fake girlfriend?" you repeated, your tone laced with skepticism.
“Simple.” He simply shrugged as he pushed himself off from the locker and took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance between you two. He leaned down slightly so his eyes were leveled with yours, “I’m sick and tired of my parents asking if I have a girlfriend. It’s exhausting lying to them all the time so I need someone to pretend to be my girlfriend for a few months, and they just happen to fall for you.” He spoke with as if you were nothing more than a mere tool.
"Why not tell them you're too busy with your studies?" you quipped, followed by a sarcastic chuckle. "Oh wait, I nearly forgot—you've been suspended twice! Who would believe you're too swamped with academics?”
He rolled his eyes at your comment and continued talking, his voice laced with annoyance, “My parents don’t care about my education. They only care about my reputation and what others think of me because they’re so damn arrogant and stuck-up. In their eyes, a good reputation requires a girlfriend, and that’s all they care about when it comes to me.” He was starting to sound frustrated, but not because of you, just his parents.
You scoffed at his response, rolling your eyes in disbelief. "Do you honestly think I'm going to agree to be your fake girlfriend after that humiliating video you recorded and posted of me?"
“Ah, yes. That.” He let out a short, cynical chuckle as he ran a hand through his ebony hair. “I completely forgot about that.” Bullshit, you thought. “Listen, all I’m asking for is that you be my fake girlfriend. It’s not like I’m asking you to really date me. It’ll literally just be a few months.”
You gestured towards a group of girls nearby, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. "Why not ask one of those girls over there? I'm certain a bunch of them would be absolutely thrilled to have you merely glance in their direction."
He glanced over to the group of girls that you were gesturing to, and in all honesty, you were probably right. They always swooned over him whenever he passed them. Any of them would be dying to be Heeseung’s girlfriend, fake or not. But he looked back at you, a hint of annoyance in his eyes, “There’s a reason I asked you and not them.”
“I have a type and none of them matches it.” Heeseung stepped even closer to you so your bodies were almost touching. He tilted his head as scanned you up and down while speaking, “You’re pretty, smart enough. And no offense, you’re not the most popular girl here, but you’re certainly not unpopular.”
"So, you're saying you have a crush on me?" you teased, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips.
He rolled his eyes once again, “No, don’t flatter yourself, y/n. As I said, you’re just my type.” His hot, breath was now fanning over your neck and he was close enough that you could smell the scent of his cologne, a mix of musk and sandalwood, surrounding the air.
“No”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no”
Now, it was his turn to roll his eyes. He scoffed in disbelief, “You’re rejecting me? You honestly think you’re in the position to reject me?”
You feigned fear, mockingly exclaiming, "Stop, im shaking!" Then, you added with a scoff, "Oh, wait, let me guess—no one has ever turned you down, right?"
You were spot on. No one has ever rejected Heeseung before, nor do people ever dare to. Girls are always chasing after him, and boys are either jealous of him or intimidated by him. He’s never heard the word ‘no’ before, but hearing it now from your mouth was quite intriguing and somewhat entertaining.
“Not a single one.” He responded with a small smirk, his eyes flickering to your lips. He was now extremely close to you, the distance between you was only a couple inches away now. “No one’s ever rejected me before, but I suppose there’s a first time for everything, huh?” he teased.
"Just leave me alone, Heeseung," you mutter, slamming your locker shut and stalking away, your irritation evident.
He easily caught up to you and placed his hand on your shoulder, spinning you around to face him. “What? The great y/n is already giving up?” He leaned in closer. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” His grip on your shoulder tightened, but not enough to hurt you.
“I won’t ask again,” He began whispering in your ear, “Be my fake girlfriend for a semester, and I’ll never bother you again for the rest of our lives.” He was now pressed against you slightly, pinning you against the lockers and trapping you.
"What's in it for me?" you countered, locking eyes with him. "And don't say 'I'll never bother you for the rest of our lives.' That doesn't interest me."
A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes at your reply and he chuckled, “Always the smartass, aren’t you?” He leaned down, his breath fanning over your face, and he tilted your chin up so you were looking at him directly. “Name your terms then.”
You pretended to ponder, tapping your finger against your chin, and then declared, "A shiny new MacBook Pro would be pretty nice."
He raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, he didn’t expect you to ask for an item so quickly. He had thought you'd ask for money. “A MacBook?” he questioned before a small smirk spread across his face, “That’s all you want?”
"Oh, and a brand-new car would be great. A Tesla, maybe?"
A look of utter disbelief briefly crossed his face, “Are you just naming out expensive things in hopes that I’ll give in?”
"I mean, you're loaded, aren't you, Lee Heeseung?" you pointed out.
He had to admit you weren’t wrong. The Lee family was extremely wealthy—a huge estate worth millions with a large family business that brought in thousands a day, all passed down from generation to generation. “True. But don’t you think you’re aiming a bit too high here?”
You folded your arms across your chest and chimed in a sing-song tone, "Well, looks like you won't be getting a fake girlfriend after all~"
He let out a sigh, feeling slightly aggravated. Part of him had to admit, he liked your stubbornness. It didn’t come as a surprise though, you had always been the one person who wasn’t afraid of him. He had to take you seriously now though. “Okay. I’ll buy you a new MacBook pro and a Tesla. In return, you have to be my fake girlfriend for the whole semester. Deal?”
Your eyes widened, taken aback by his unexpected acceptance. "W-Wait, are you serious?"
“Does a deal mean I’m not serious?” he said, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. “Yes, I’m serious.” his intense gaze met yours once again, “It’s a yes or no you dumb fuck.”
"Deal!" you responded enthusiastically, extending an open hand towards him for a handshake.
He chuckled, finding your eagerness amusing. He took your outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake, sealing the deal with a smirk on his face. "Then it's official, you're now my fake girlfriend."
—
The following day, while at school, you received a text from Heeseung, asking to meet at the library after classes to discuss the details of this agreement. You readily agreed, tucking your phone away and making your way to class. Sure, enduring time with Heeseung, let alone pretending to love him would annoy the living fuck out of you, but hey, you were at least getting something out of the arrangement.
He was already in the library by the time you arrived, sitting in a secluded corner away from the rest of students. He glanced up as soon as you approached the table he was sitting at. "Sit." he commanded, gesturing to the chair across from him.
He leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on the back of the chair and the other on his knee. He studied you closely, taking in your every trait. “I have a few rules for this fake dating thing.” he finally spoke, his tone authoritative.
You let out an exaggerated eye roll and placed your arms on the table, leaning forward. "Do tell?”
“First rule: we have to do everything any real couple does in public. Holding hands, going on dates in public, the whole thing.” he spoke, his voice firm, “You’re my fake girlfriend now, so you can’t just sit there with that shitty look on your face when I’m around you. No one can suspect a thing. Understood?”
You raised a skeptical eyebrow and questioned pointedly, "I thought this fake girlfriend deal is just about appeasing your parents. Why do we have to act like we’re together outside of your house too? Won’t they think it’s odd we’re suddenly together? I’m pretty sure the whole school knows we hate each other by now.”
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” Heeseung replied, shooting you an irritated look. “Parents who’re too stuck-up and obsessed with their reputation like mine love seeing couples acting affectionate. Plus, we need the whole school to start seeing us as a real couple, not just my parents. It’ll be more believable that way.”
You tilted your head in bewilderment and inquired, "And what are you going to say when people approach us, curious about our 'relationship'?"
“We’ll just tell them the truth. That we started talking to each other at some point and found out that we weren’t as different from each other as we'd thought.” he spoke with a nonchalant tone. “But of course, I’ll have to make up a story of how I confessed and how we got together, but other than that, it’s pretty much believable.”
You hesitantly continued, your gaze shifting to his fiddling hands and the pen. "And... what about things like kissing, pet names, and all those things... how are we going to handle those?" You spoke in a sheepish tone, a hint of excitement and nervousness evident in your voice.
He smirked slightly at your flustered expression and leaned back in his chair again, one arm placed back on the back of his chair. “I don’t care what kind of pet names you call me, but I don’t want you to call me my actual name. And for kissing…” he spoke quietly, “if I have to kiss you to make all this believable, so be it.”
You let out a sigh, mentally preparing to navigate the next three months with a fake boyfriend. This was going to be... interesting, to say the least.
“There’s one more rule.” he spoke, his gaze now flickering to yours again. “During the three months of this deal, you belong to me. Meaning: no dating, no relationships, no going on dates with someone else. You’re mine now, you got that?”
His words struck a chord within you, causing your heart to skip a beat. Yet, you quickly reminded yourself, *No, y/n, snap out of it. You despise him, and he feels the same about you*. You reluctantly agreed, albeit with a protesting groan, and sunk into the couch.
He suppressed a smug smirk upon seeing your reaction to his words. Despite your protests and eye-rolls, he could see the way you tensed up when he spoke those words. He wasn’t an idiot, he could tell, the effect he had on you, whether you were willing to admit it or not.
—
You had just walked into the school building and instantly, you heard the whispers and murmurs among the students as you made your way to your locker. It was like time had slowed down and every eye in the hallway was on you.
“Is that y/n?” one boy whispered to his friend.
“Damn, she looks pretty today.”
“But why does it look like she’s in a bad mood?” another boy spoke quietly.
Meanwhile, Heeseung was leaning against the lockers at the end of the hall, flanked by his two best friends, Jake and Sunghoon. They were having a conversation when Sunghoon’s eyes suddenly fixated on you, as you walked towards your locker. He nudged Heeseung's arm with his elbow, pointing at you.
“Hey, look,” Sunghoon whispered. “Isn’t that y/n?”
Heeseung’s eyes flickered over to the direction Sunghoon was looking at and he nodded. “Yeah, it’s her. She looks pretty today, huh?” a small smirk spread across his face as he watched from afar.
“What are you guys looking at?” Jake spoke up, craning his neck to see what had grabbed Heeseung and Sunghoon’s attention.
Sunghoon tilted his head towards you. “Just our little y/n over there, trying to play it cool but she looks pretty annoyed.”
Jake let out a small chuckle. “She always looks annoyed these days.”
“I mean, can you blame her?” Sunghoon asked, “She always looks like she wants to murder someone.”
Jake chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. She’s just naturally bitchy, I guess.”
Heeseung, however, was still quietly watching you. His eyes never left your figure as you continued on to your locker and began to open it.
“She's hot though.” Jake commented. “I'd ask her out if it didn't seem like she'd tear my head off.”
Sunghoon laughed. “She's out of your league anyways, man.” he teased.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want,” he replied, jokingly punching Sunghoon’s arm. “I know she’s out of *both* our leagues.”
“Is there even any guy that she likes?” Sunghoon wondered aloud. “I don’t think I’ve ever even seen her hanging out with a guy.”
Heeseung's gaze flicked over to Sunghoon at the question, a small knowing smirk playing at his lips.
Jake looked over at Heeseung. “What about you?”
Heeseung’s smirk grew slightly at the question and he shrugged nonchalantly. “What about me?” he replied, his tone nonchalant.
Jake’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you like her.” he said in disbelief.
“I never said I did,” replied Heeseung, still maintaining his casual demeanor.
Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You didn’t deny it either though…” he pointed out, giving Heeseung a look.
“You know me better than that, don’t you?” Heeseung said, shooting Sunghoon a mocking look and rolling his eyes. “Yeah, sure, she’s got a nice body and she’s pretty, but she’s got the personality of a cactus. I’m not *that* masochistic.”
Sunghoon and Jake both chuckled at his response.
“Damn, man, that was a good one.” Sunghoon commented, lightly slapping Heeseung’s shoulder. “You’re right though, she’s probably not worth the headache.”
Heeseung pushed himself off of the locker he was leaning against and took a step forward, still keeping his eyes on you. “You know, there’s actually something I wanted to tell you two.” he spoke casually.
Sunghoon and Jake exchanged a curious glance before looking back at Heeseung. “What is it?” Sunghoon inquired.
Heeseung shifted his stance, his hands now in the pockets of his pants. “Well, I’ve been seeing y/n.” he replied, a small smirk dancing on his lips.
Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, what?” he exclaimed, clearly not expecting that answer.
Sunghoon, on the other hand, let out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re joking, right? There’s no way you and her are a thing. She hates your guts!”
Heeseung chuckled at Sunghoon's reaction. “I’m dead serious, though.”
Jake still looked like he was processing the information. “But..how is that even possible? You guys have hated each other for three years now!”
“Things change, I guess…” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “We actually started talking a few weeks back and… well, started spending more time together. She’s not as bitchy as I thought she’d be.” he added, a smirk on his face.
Out of the blue, the question left Jake's lips, curiosity getting the better of him. "Have you guys... you know, fucked?"
Sunghoon burst out laughing and playfully slapped Jake on the back of the head. “Don’t ask him that, man!”
Heeseung rolled his eyes at Jake’s question, but a small smirk tugged at his lips nonetheless. “What, you want details?” he teased.
Jake’s expression turned sheepish. “No, no, I was just wondering.” he quickly retorted, his cheeks turning a hint of pink. “It’s just…I never thought something like that would actually happen between you two.”
“Yeah well, it did...” Heeseung replied, his smirk growing into a full-on grin. “And just wait until you see how different she is when it’s just the two of us.” he added, the hint of pride evident in his tone.
Heeseung fished out his phone from his pocket and typed a quick message to you, sending it off.
*‘Meet me in the janitor’s closet on the third floor during lunch. I need to talk to you.’*
As he put his phone back in his pocket, Sunghoon noticed the screen and raised an eyebrow. “Texting y/n?” he asked, with a mocking tone.
Heeseung rolled his eyes again. “You’re damn observant, aren’t you?” he retorted sarcastically. “Yeah, just asked her to meet me later during lunch.”
Jake, never one to back down from teasing his friend, proposed, "Why don't you bring her to eat with us? We want to get to know your 'girlfriend' better, at least that's what you're telling us... But let's be real, no one truly believes that you two are actually together." Sunghoon, equally skeptical as Jake, nodded in agreement.
Everyone was well aware of the animosity between the two popular students, Heeseung and y/n. Jake's and Sunghoon's doubts about their supposed relationship echoed what many others had assumed.
Heeseung rolled his eyes at both of their teasing comments. “Alright, alright, settle down.” he replied, a small smirk on his face. “I’ll ask her, but I can’t promise what her reaction will be.”
You responded firmly, steadfast in your refusal. "Absolutely not," you shook your head vehemently, your expression reflecting your firm rejection. "I'm already enduring the farce of pretending to like you, and there's no chance I'm subjecting myself to lunch with you, let alone two others who are practically copy and pastes of you!"
Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh, feigning disappointment. “Aww, come on, you’re no fun.” he replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re gonna have to meet them eventually, so you may as well do it sooner rather than later.”
Heeseung watched as you began to protest and couldn’t help but smile to himself at your stubbornness. “Come on, it’s just lunch. I’m sure you can handle it.” he persuaded, taking a step closer to you.
You internally grappled with the idea. It's just three more months, you told yourself. Can I really endure him? With a reluctant sigh, you finally relented, "Fine, I suppose it won’t be too bad."
Heeseung hid a triumphant smirk as he heard you finally cave. “That’s my girl.” he teased, stepping forward again and gently lifting your chin with his index finger.
Your body involuntarily tensed up as the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. "That's my girl…" The phrase played on a loop, causing a ripple of unease to ripple through you as you trailed alongside Heeseung towards the table where his friends awaited.
Jake and Sunghoon, who were still sitting at the table, looked up as the two of you approached. Jake’s eyes widened with surprise as he actually saw you walking next to Heeseung, while Sunghoon simply raised an eyebrow skeptically, silently questioning if the sight was real.
Heeseung placed his hand on the small of your back as you approached the table, a smirk on his face. “y/n, meet Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon, Jake, y/n.” he said casually, pulling out a chair for you to sit.
Sunghoon and Jake could only stare up at you, still trying to process the fact that Heeseung’s supposed ‘girlfriend’ was actually here and sitting right in front of them. Jake’s mouth was hung open slightly and Sunghoon just silently studied your features.
Heeseung noticed the boys’ awestruck expressions and let out a low chuckle, pushing your chair in as you sat. “Boys, quit staring like that. You’re making her uncomfortable.” he teased, taking a seat next to you.
Heeseung's attempt at making it seem like he cared fell flat, met with your sharp retort. "It's alright, Heeseung," you bit back, irritation lacing your words. "Save your pity, I don't need it." The tension between you two was palpable, and it was undeniable to anyone observing the situation.
Heeseung let out a scoff at the sharpness in your tone, an annoyed smile on his face. He reached beneath the table and placed his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly, a silent warning for you to keep up the act.
Sunghoon and Jake noticed the subtle interaction between the two of you and exchanged a glance. Sunghoon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Heeseung’s hand rest on your thigh, while a smirk tugged at Jake’s lips.
“Are you sure this isn’t just some elaborate prank?” Sunghoon finally spoke up, his eyes still fixed on Heeseung’s hand on your thigh.
Heeseung chuckled in response, his hand squeezing your thigh once more in warning. “I can assure you, this is real.” he replied, his eyes challenging Sunghoon to question him further.
Jake’s smirk grew wider at Heeseung’s response and he leaned forward slightly. “But the real question is, how’d you manage to pull *her* of all people?” he asked, referring to you with a nod of his head.
"I'm not some toy you can toss around." Your words were sharp and biting, a steely edge to your voice as you fixed a defiant glare on Jake. "I have my own mind, my own thoughts and feelings. I'm not some plaything for you to manipulate."
Heeseung’s grip on your thigh tightened slightly in warning, but his smile never wavered. “Damn, you’re feisty. I like it.” he commented casually, a hint of amusement in his tone.
You internally seethed, feeling the weight of the situation settling upon you. Could you truly maintain this act for three months, with everyone watching? Yes, you'd harbored a secret crush on Heeseung before the whole fiasco with the vomiting video, and seeing him present a facade of affection towards you now only made you feel like gagging.
Sunghoon noticed the tension between the two of you yet again and chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head. “I still don’t believe it.” he commented, the skepticism obvious in his tone.
Heeseung rolled his eyes in response to Sunghoon, his hand still resting on your thigh. “I already told you, it’s real. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.” he replied, his gaze challenging Sunghoon to dispute his words.
“Sit here y/n,” Heeseung said, a commanding gesture. Heeseung patted his lap and motioned for you to take a seat on it. Seemingly unfazed by the fact that it was in the middle of the school day and they had an audience in the form of his friends.
Your eyes widened slightly at his direct instruction, your mind racing with thoughts of how ridiculous the situation was. Did he really expect you to just sit on his lap like it was normal?
Sunghoon and Jake, on the other hand, watched eagerly, expecting you to refuse the demeaning act.
Heeseung’s smirk grew wider as he saw your eyes widen, a silent challenge in them as he patted his lap once more. “Come on, it’s not that difficult. Just sit like the good girl you are.” he urged casually, as if it was completely normal for someone like you to sit in his lap.
Jake and Sunghoon couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer and broke into a fit of chuckles. “Yeah, come on, good girl.” Jake mocked, clearly enjoying seeing you squirm under Heeseung’s command.
You reluctantly rose to your feet, shooting Jake a withering glare before complying. You perched yourself awkwardly on Heeseung's lap, your expression a mixture of resignation and annoyance, silently praying that this moment would pass quickly.
Heeseung, however, didn't miss the silent pleading in your eyes. As soon as you sat down, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, his grip just a little tighter than was necessary.
Jake's chuckle turned into a genuine laugh as he saw the way Heeseung manhandled you into sitting on his lap. "Damn, she really is your good girl, huh?" he teased.
Heeseung shot Jake a warning glare, not appreciating his taunting tone. "Shut it." he replied, his voice stern. But a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled you even closer, his hand resting on your hip.
Sunghoon, who had been quietly observant during the whole scene, rolled his eyes at Heeseung's display. "Possessive, much?" he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough for you to miss the comment.
Heeseung's eyes narrowed at Sunghoon's snide remark, but he didn't respond. Instead, he slid his hand slightly higher up your thigh, his touch deliberate and possessive.
Before you could stand up, Heeseung's firm grip on your waist halted your movements. He issued a direct statement, "Let's skip class." Your eyes widened in disbelief, the words ringing in your ears. "Skip class?" you echoed, shocked at the audacity of his suggestion.
Heeseung just smirked in response, his demeanor unapologetic. "Yeah, skip class. I want to spend some time alone with my *girlfriend*." he retorted arrogantly, the word 'girlfriend' dripping with sarcasm.
Heeseung, surprised, suggested skipping class, and you admitted, "I've never done that before." The thought of ditching school alarmed you, as it was a departure from your usual disciplined routine.
Heeseung chuckled at your confession, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Never? Really?" he teased, his hand still resting on your thigh. "You're missing out, it's freeing. Come on, live a little."
With a sarcastic tone, you retorted, "And yet you act like a high school dropout," before reluctantly agreeing to skip class for the remainder of the day.
Heeseung rolled his eyes at your sarcastic remark but didn’t deny it. “Damn, you’re a smartass.” he chuckled, amused by your attitude. “I can’t wait to have you to myself for the rest of the day.”
He glanced over to Sunghoon and Jake, who were watching the interaction intently. "We're skipping the rest of the day. Don't try to stop us." he informed them, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Jake smirked and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Damn, you’re really getting serious. Go have your alone time with her.” he jeered, clearly enjoying seeing Heeseung so possessive over you.
Sunghoon just rolled his eyes, but wisely didn't comment on the situation. He just observed silently, his eyes flickering between you and Heeseung, studying your every move.
Heeseung just chuckled in response to Jake’s comment before turning his attention back to you. "Let's go." he said, gently squeezing your thigh before patting it, signaling for you to stand up.
You reluctantly obeyed, standing up from his lap and silently vowing to stay as far away from him as possible. Heeseung rose from his seat, grabbing his bag in the process, and made his way over to you. Without warning, he slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side.
Jake and Sunghoon chuckled again at his possessive gesture, clearly enjoying the show. “You two lovebirds have fun.” Jake called out with a smirk.
Heeseung just rolled his eyes at Jake’s comment and led you towards the exit, his arm still firmly around your shoulders. As you both left the cafeteria, he pulled you a little closer and whispered in your ear, “Don’t you dare try to run off on me.”
You gritted your teeth at his warning but didn’t respond, knowing that it would only lead to more trouble. You allowed him to guide you out of the school building, your thoughts racing with a million different escape plans.
Once you both were outside, Heeseung turned to you, a smirk on his face. “Now, I have a proposal for you. We have several options for how to spend the rest of the day, but I’ll let you choose.”
He paused for a moment, studying you silently, before continuing. “We can go get some food, maybe do a little shopping, or…” he trailed off, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “We can do whatever you want. But on one condition.”
You raised an eyebrow, silently bracing yourself for whatever condition he was about to set. “What is it?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
He chuckled at your cautious tone before stepping closer, his hand moving to rest on your hip. “All I want is your undivided attention. No trying to run away or ignoring me. You’ll have to stick with me for the rest of the day and do whatever I say.” he replied, his voice dripping with authority.
You agreed, albeit hesitantly, with a slow nod. "Alright, I suppose I can do that..." you murmured, before changing the subject. "Speaking of which, when are we supposed to meet your parents? This whole fake dating charade is meant to convince them that you're in a relationship, right?"
Heeseung chuckled and nodded at your question. "Yeah, you're right. We'll have to convince my parents at some point. But don’t worry, we have some time before that. They’re away on a business trip right now, so we don’t need to worry about them just yet."
Surprise washed over you at Heeseung's revelation. "Business trip?!" you exclaimed. "Then why are we going through the motions of being all lovey-dovey if your parents are out of town for business?"
Heeseung smirked at your outburst before answering your question. "Because, my dear fake girlfriend, it's better to start early." he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We can’t just suddenly be all lovey-dovey once they come back. We need to make it believable."
Internalized frustration simmered within you as you emitted a sigh of resignation. "I just want to go home," you confessed, your weariness evident in your exhausted tone.
Heeseung chuckled, clearly amused by your predicament. "Ah-ah, no going home. You agreed to spend the rest of the day with me, remember?" he reminded you, his hand gripping your hip a little tighter.
A mumbled invitation escaped your lips, "You can come over, I suppose..." Though your words were delivered indifferently, a hint of reluctance crept into your tone.
Heeseung raised an eyebrow at the half-hearted invitation, a smirk plastered on his face. "Oh? You're actually letting me come over? I almost feel special." he teased, a hint of mockery in his voice.
He took a small step closer to you, his grip on your hip still firm. "But I get to decide what we do at your place, got it? No arguments, no complaints. You'll be a good girl and do as I say." he told you, his tone leaving no room for debate.
Heeseung’s smirk only grew wider as he saw the resignation etched on your face. He knew you didn’t want him anywhere near your home, but you didn’t have a choice. "Great, then it’s decided. We’re going to your place." he stated before grabbing your hand and pulling you along.
As you guys walked to your home, Heeseung occasionally glanced over at you. Your expression was a mixture of resignation and annoyance, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He found it hilariously ironic that the person he had always hated was now stuck with him for the rest of the day.
Once they arrived at your house, Heeseung immediately made himself at home. He kicked off his shoes and made his way to the living room, flopping down on the couch with a sense of entitlement. He patted the spot next to him, signaling for you to join him.
Annoyance flickered across your face as you observed his lackadaisical approach to removing his shoes. Irritated, you placed his shoes neatly by the entrance before proceeding to take off your own.
Heeseung had been watching you as you took off your shoes, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at your particularity. “Ever the neat freak, huh?” he teased, a smirk on his face.
He patted the spot next to him again, his smirk never faltering. “Come on, sit down. I don’t bite.” he quipped, clearly enjoying seeing you out of your comfort zone.
You hesitantly made your way towards the couch and sat down next to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance. Heeseung just chuckled at your attempt to maintain space and grabbed your arm, pulling you closer until you were flush against his side.
"Ah-ah, no escaping from me now." he teased, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, trapping you against him. He leaned back against the couch, clearly satisfied with your discomfort.
"Now, since we have a few hours to kill, I have a few ideas on how we can spend our time." he said, his hand idly stroking your shoulder.
Frustration crept into your voice as you snapped at him, your cheeks tinged with red. "Enough, already!" you exclaimed. "There's no one around; you don't need to keep up the act."
Heeseung just chuckled at your outburst, his smirk growing wider. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he taunted, his hand moving up to gently caress your cheek. "Besides, I like seeing you all flustered and uncomfortable."
He leaned closer, his breath fanning against your ear. "And who knows, maybe I just enjoy having you this close to me." he teased, his tone low and sultry.
His hand moved from your cheek to your hair, gently twirling a strand between his fingers. "You know, you're actually quite cute when you're all annoyed like this." he whispered, his voice laced with amusement.
He sat back against the couch, pulling you with him so you were practically laying on his chest. "But don't worry, we have the whole day to spend together. We'll have plenty of opportunities for me to drive you crazy."
Heeseung's hand continued to caress your hair, his touch strangely soothing. For a moment, he seemed almost gentle, his arrogance temporarily replaced by this unexpected tenderness.
But the moment was short-lived as his smirk returned, his voice dripping with arrogance again. "So, how about we watch a movie or something? I’m sure there's something on TV that'll keep us entertained for a bit."
He reached for the remote and flicked through the channels, eventually landing on a romantic comedy. He glanced down at you with a smirk. "King the land sounds good huh?."
As the movie played, Heeseung's hand never left your hair. He continued to absently toy with the strands, his attention half on the movie and half on teasing you.
Every now and then, he would drop a sarcastic comment about the movie, or make a snide remark about how the couple on screen reminded him of you and him. His touch remained light and almost comforting, a stark contrast to his usual obnoxious demeanor.
A mischievous smirk tugged at the corners of Heeseung's lips as he observed a scene playing out on the TV. "You know," he remarked, a hint of humor in his voice, "that actress kinda looks like you."
He glanced down at you, his hand still lazily caressing your hair. "Don’t worry, you're much cuter than her." he teased, a smirk still playing on his lips.
The situation was becoming unbearable. You reached your limit; you couldn't continue pretending to love him and enduring his touch. Frustration boiled over, and you abruptly stood up, your emotions taking control.
Heeseung's smirk faltered for a moment as you suddenly stood up. He hadn't expected such a sudden outburst from you. He leaned back on the couch, his head tilted to the side as he regarded you with intrigue.
The words erupted from you, a mix of anger and resignation. "I can't do this anymore!" you exclaimed, your hands clenching into tight fists as frustration surged through you. "The deal's off. It's over."
Heeseung's amused expression faded, replaced by a brief flicker of surprise. He had not expected you to concede so easily. He sat up on the couch, his eyes never leaving your face as he studied you silently.
Heeseung's surprise quickly turned into a smug grin, his arrogance fully returning. He stood up from the couch, casually making his way towards you. "Oh, come on now. You’re just giving up so easily? Where's the fight in you?”
Your true feelings finally burst forth, the pent-up emotions overflowing. "I just can't keep up this act anymore!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with frustration. "Spending the entire day pretending that I don't loathe every second of being around you... it's too much!"
Heeseung chuckled, his arms now crossed lazily across his chest as he leaned back on the couch. "Loathe every second, huh?" he remarked, his voice dripping with smugness. "I can't say I'm surprised, considering how much you've always hated me."
A sarcastic scoff escaped your lips as you crossed your arms, a defiant look in your eyes. "Please, enlighten me, Heeseung," you retorted, your voice laced with irritation. "Why do you think I despise you so deeply?"
Heeseung's smirk widened as he reveled in your irritation. He chuckled softly before responding, his voice dripping with nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I uploaded that embarrassing video of you puking your brains out at that frat party back in our freshman year."
"That's exactly what I want to know!" you shot back, your anger and hurt seething beneath the surface. "What made you humiliate me that day? What prompted you to upload that video for everyone to see?"
Heeseung shrugged, his expression unrepentant. "It was just a silly prank, that’s all." he replied nonchalantly. "I didn’t think you’d take it so personally."
A bitter laugh escaped your lips, and you stepped back, creating a physical distance between you and him. "Wow," you said, shaking your head in disbelief. "You really are a heartless jerk."
Heeseung’s smirk didn’t waver, and he took a step closer to you. "Oh c’mon, it’s not like it was the end of the world." he taunted. "Besides, it was pretty funny to see you all green-faced and puking your guts out.
A firm demand left your lips as you gestured towards the front door. "Get out," you directed, your tone leaving no room for argument.
Heeseung’s smirk faltered for a moment, his eyes narrowing at your firmness. He paused for a moment, his gaze locked on you, before a taunting smirk returned to his lips. "And what if I don’t want to?" he challenged, taking another step towards you.
“Then I'll call the cops and accuse you of harassing me!" Your eyes narrowed, your anger and determination evident.
Heeseung chuckled, his arms still crossed, not intimidated in the slightest. "And what makes you think anyone would believe you?" he countered, a hint of smugness in his voice.
Frustration and exhaustion consumed you, pushing you to the edge. "I'm done," you murmured, your voice filled with weariness as you retreated to your bedroom.
Heeseung's smirk faded as you retreated to your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room. He watched the door close behind you, a flicker of something inexplicable crossing his face before he quickly masked it with his usual arrogance.
He stood there for a few moments, the silence deafening. He didn't know what to do next. He had expected you to cave in, to give him what he wanted. But he hadn't expected you to stand up to him, to outright kick him out. The look in your eyes had been different, more vulnerable, almost... hurt.
He gritted his teeth, his mind whirling with a mix of irritation and something else he couldn’t quite identify. He was not used to people not giving him what he wanted, and he hated that you had just stood up to him like that.
He considered knocking on your bedroom door, to go in there and confront you, to demand an explanation for your behavior. But something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of the hurt look in your eyes, or maybe it was his own ego refusing to stoop down to that level.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the inexplicable turmoil within him. He glanced around the living room for a moment, realizing that there wasn't anything else for him to do here. After a few moments of internal debate, he reluctantly made his way to the front door and let himself out.
—
The next few days were tense and awkward, as both of you avoided each other in the hallways and classes. The only interactions you had were brief glances filled with silent anger and resentment.
Heeseung's usual air of arrogance was even more pronounced, and he made no effort to hide his irritation whenever you happened to be in proximity to each other
Heeseung, leaning against a locker with a scowl on his face, is approached by Sunghoon and Jake as they walk up to him.
"Hey, what’s with the sour face?" Jake asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
Heeseung just grumbled and rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood to talk.
“Did you and y/n break up or something?” Sunghoon asked, looking at you talk to a couple of your friends from far away.
Heeseung’s scowl deepened as he watched you interacting with your friends.
"Yeah, something like that," he muttered, his tone laced with irritation.
Sunghoon and Jake exchanged surprised glances after hearing Heeseung's words. They hadn’t expected that.
"Wait, seriously? You and y/n?" Sunghoon questioned, sounding skeptical.
Heeseung's jaw tightened as he remembered the incident that had started all of this. It was that stupid party three years ago that had caused him to upload that stupid video, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.
"Yeah, we were supposed to be fake dating, but she just called it off."
Jake and Sunghoon looked surprised again, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Why did she call it off?" Jake inquired, curiosity piqued.
Heeseung grunted, his irritation resurfacing. "She said she couldn’t keep up the act any longer and that she despised me too much."
Sunghoon and Jake exchange surprised glances again.
"Damn," Sunghoon muttered. "I didn't know she hated you *that* much."
Jake chimed in, his tone serious. "I think you should apologize, dude," he stated bluntly. "What you did to her was messed up."
Heeseung rolled his eyes, his usual cockiness returning. "Why the hell would I apologize? She should be thanking me; her popularity skyrocketed after that whole puking incident blew up on social media."
"Are you kidding?" Jake retorted, his tone laced with disbelief. "You uploaded a video of her puking her guts out for the whole school to see, and you think she should thank you? Seriously?"
Heeseung shrugged nonchalantly, his expression unrepentant. "Hey, it’s not my fault if she can’t handle a little embarrassment. Besides, we were both drunk that night. She was drinking just as much as I was, if not more."
Sunghoon shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Man, you’ve really got some messed up ideas about what constitutes a ‘prank.’ You humiliated her, Heeseung. That’s not something you do to someone you care about, even if it’s fake dating. You need to apologize to her and make things right."
Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation building. "First of all, I don’t care about her one bit. And second, why do I have to apologize when it was her own stupidity that got her into that situation in the first place? She’s the one who downed all those shots and ended up puking. Not my fault she can’t handle her alcohol.”
"Dude, that's completely irrelevant," Jake interjected, his voice firm. "It doesn’t matter how much she drank or how she ended up puking. What matters is that you deliberately chose to film her and upload it online, without her consent or knowledge, for hundreds of people to see. That’s a shitty thing to do, no matter how you spin it."
Heeseung let out another annoyed sigh as he looked at the disapproving faces of Sunghoon and Jake. He knew they were right, but he didn't want to admit it.
"Fine," he grumbled, his tone reluctant. "I’ll apologize. But I’m not going to enjoy it, and I’m not going to mean it."
Sunghoon and Jake nodded, but their expressions remained skeptical. They knew better than to get their hopes up.
"Good luck," Jake said, a slight hint of sarcasm in his tone.
Heeseung shot him a glare but didn’t respond. He grumbled under his breath and walked away, making his way towards where he knew you would be.
He found you with a small group of friends, chatting and laughing. You hadn’t noticed him approaching yet, and for a moment, he paused, watching you from a distance. There was something about the way you smiled and laughed that tugged at some unknown part of him, but he quickly shook it off, reminding himself that he didn’t care about you.
He took a deep breath, mustering up his usual arrogant facade, and took a step forward, making his presence known. He cleared his throat, catching your attention.
You and your friends turned to look at him, your expression immediately turning cold the moment you saw him. You tried to suppress the anger and hurt that bubbled up inside you every time you laid eyes on him.
Heeseung’s heart clenched at the look on your face, but he quickly masked it with his usual cocky smirk. He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto yours.
“Hey, can we talk,” he began, his tone nonchalant, betraying none of the conflict within him.
You and your friends exchanged wary glances. It was unusual for Heeseung to ask to talk to you, especially in front of an audience. You felt an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach, but you couldn’t deny your curiosity. You nodded, reluctantly stepping away from your friends to talk to him.
Once you were a few steps away from your friends, far enough for them not to overhear the conversation, Heeseung spoke again. His voice had a hint of strain in it, as if he was forcing himself to speak.
"I need to talk to you about something," he said, his tone serious for once.
There was no room for discussion as you made your stance clear. "If you think you can just waltz up and apologize, forget it," you stated firmly. "I don't want to hear it."
Heeseung’s expression faltered for a moment, momentarily taken aback by your firmness. He hadn’t expected you to be this adamant, but he quickly recovered and masked his surprise with his usual haughty demeanor.
"Oh really," he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You’re just going to reject my apology without even hearing me out?"
Your eyes rolled in annoyance. "You've got thirty seconds. That's all you get," you conceded, reluctantly granting him a brief opportunity to speak.
Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your ultimatum. He didn’t expect you to give him a chance to speak, but he wasn’t going to waste it. He took a step closer to you, his face suddenly serious as he looked into your eyes.
Without warning, Heeseung reached forward and grabbed your face, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips firmly against yours in a sudden, unexpected kiss.
Your eyes widened in surprise as he kissed you, the suddenness of his actions catching you off guard. Your body tensed involuntarily, the shock of the kiss coursing through your body. But as much as you despised him and his arrogance, your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the feel of his lips against yours.
A few students around them let out soft gasps and coos as they noticed the unexpected kiss. It was quite the sight to behold, especially considering the tension between the two of you that had been simmering for years.
Heeseung ignored the reactions of the people around them, his focus solely on you. When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched your face, trying to gauge your reaction.
You were still in shocked state and speechless, your mind still reeling from the unexpected kiss. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, your gaze firmly fixed on his face.
"Heeseung," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "What the hell was that?"
Heeseung let out a sigh, his hands dropping from your cheeks. He took a step back, giving you some space.
"It was my way of apologizing," he replied, his voice low. His gaze flicked over your face, watching your expression carefully. "And my way of making you listen to me for more than 30 seconds."
Your brows furrowed, your shock quickly turning into irritation. "Is that your idea of an apology?" you questioned, your voice laced with disbelief. "Kissing me without any warning or consent?"
Heeseung noticed the slight flush on your cheeks and the way your breath hitched briefly during the kiss. Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by him, and a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"You seemed to have enjoyed it, and you didn’t pull back,” he pointed out, a slight edge in his voice.
You blushed, feeling embarrassed that he had noticed your slight response to his unexpected kiss. You quickly composed yourself, trying to maintain a stern expression.
"That doesn’t matter," you retorted, your tone firm. "You can’t just kiss someone without their consent and call it an apology."
Heeseung watched as you tried to mask your reaction to the kiss, amused by your obvious effort. He took a step closer to you, his gaze locking onto yours.
"Oh really? Well then, should I give you another one?" he teased, his voice low and slightly seductive.
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you found yourself unable to resist as you whispered a soft, almost reluctant, “Yes.”
A sly smirk tugged at Heeseung’s lips at your response, and he didn’t hesitate to step closer to you. His hands came up to cup your face again, his palms warm and firm against your skin.
Without another word, he leaned in and captured your lips in another kiss. Despite the initial surprise, your body responded instantly, and after a moment’s hesitation, you melted into the kiss, your lips moving against his in a surprising display of reluctant want.
“Ew-“ Jake and Sunghoon watched with a mix of shock and confusion as you abruptly ended the kiss as they appeared out of nowhere. "I thought you were supposed to apologize, not make out!" Jake exclaimed incredulously.
Heeseung pulled back, his expression a mixture of irritation and slight embarrassment at being caught by Jake and Sunghoon. He shot them a glare, annoyed at their interruption.
"We were in the middle of something," he retorted, his tone sharp.
Jake chuckled, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, we could see that," he commented, clearly amused by the situation.
Sunghoon, on the other hand, looked between you and Heeseung with a slight frown. "So, did he apologize or not?" he asked.
Heeseung let out an exasperated sigh, his irritation resurfacing. "I was trying to," he grumbled. "And then the situation got a bit... distracted."
Jake let out a snort of laughter as he glanced at you, your cheeks still tinged with color from the unexpected kiss.
Heeseung leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low tone, ensuring his words were for your ears only.
"We’re not done yet," he murmured, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
Your face flushed with embarrassment as the new nickname slipped from your lips, a mix of surprise and reluctant endearment. "Stop it, Hee..." you protested, shoving him away gently.
Heeseung chuckled lowly at your reaction, his smirk only widening as he saw the blush on your cheeks. The nickname slipped out so naturally from your lips, and he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.
"Nope, not a chance," he replied, his tone filled with amusement. "I like the sound of it. You’re stuck with it now."
—
Over the next few days, the school was abuzz with the talk of you and Heeseung's unexpected public display of affection. The kiss he had given you in front of everyone was the talk of the school, and his friends constantly teased him about it.
One evening, Heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that you were avoiding him. After not seeing you in the halls after classes, he decided to look for you.
He searched the school and finally found you sitting by yourself in a secluded rooftop area, looking out into the darkening sky. Heeseung approached, footsteps soft against the gravel, and stood a few feet away from you.
"You’ve been avoiding me," he stated, his tone tinged with a hint of annoyance. He leaned against the fence, crossing his arms as he observed you from the corner of his eye.
You turned your head to look at him, your expression neutral. "So what if I have been?" you replied, your voice cool and even.
You turned your head to look at him, your expression neutral. "So what if I have been?" you replied, your voice cool and even.
Heeseung’s jaw tightened slightly at your nonchalant response. He hadn’t expected such an indifferent reaction from you, and it irritated him even more. He pushed off the fence and took a few steps towards you.
"Why are you avoiding me? Because of what I did?" he asked, his voice sharp. He was standing only a few feet away from you now, his eyes locked onto your face, trying to decipher your expression.
Frustration and hurt bubbled up within you, your voice tinged with pain. "After that kiss," you spoke, your words thick with emotion, "I actually believed that you might have feelings for me. But I see now that it's just another game to you, isn't it?"
Heeseung’s jaw tensed as you spoke, your raw emotional response catching him slightly off guard. He hadn’t expected you to believe that he had feelings for you, especially after all the years of animosity between you.
"It’s not a game," he managed to grind out, his voice laced with a hint of defensiveness.
He took a step closer to you, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "The kiss was genuine," he admitted, his gaze fixed on your face. "I didn’t do it just for fun or as part of some game."
He took another step closer, the gap between you now small. He reached out, his hand gently lifting your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.
"It just happened," he said, his voice softer now. "I wasn’t planning on it, but I couldn’t help myself."
He studied your face, looking for any sign of your reaction. He was struggling to understand why he had acted so impulsively, why he'd wanted to kiss you so badly.
"You just... you looked so captivating in that moment," he mumbled, his voice low.
His hand was still under your chin, his thumb gently brushing against your skin. He realized how close he was to you now, his heart racing for some inexplicable reason.
"I just did it, without thinking," he murmured, his eyes intently fixed on yours. "And I don’t regret it."
Your voice trembled with vulnerability as you sought confirmation. "You don't...?” You whispered, desperate for reassurance, the words hanging heavily in the air.
Heeseung’s grip on your chin tightened slightly as he responded, his voice firm and unwavering.
"No," he said, his tone resolute. "I don’t regret it at all. It felt right."
He took another step closer, his body almost touching yours now. His eyes searched your face, his gaze intent.
"It felt right," he repeated, his voice softer now. His hand slowly slid from your chin down to your cheek, and he cupped your face gently, as if he was afraid you’d pull away.
Heeseung’s gaze held a hint of something—an emotion that you couldn’t quite place as he looked at you. He was still holding your face tenderly in his hand.
"Do you have plans tonight?" he asked, his voice soft. "I have some studying to do. Want to join me?"
A laugh threatened to slip from your lips at the surprising invitation. "You, studying? That's a first," you teased, your words filled with disbelief.
Heeseung rolled his eyes, a small smirk playing on his lips. He knew that he wasn’t exactly known for his diligent study habits, but he had some studying he needed to catch up on.
"Oh, shut up. I do study sometimes." he retorted, his tone light.
Heeseung's smirk widened as he picked up on your entendre, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He took a step closer, his body now nearly pressed against yours.
"Trust me, you'll enjoy this kind of studying," he murmured, his voice low.
With that, Heeseung leaned closer, his lips hovering only inches from yours. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, and his pulse quickened.
He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but all he knew was that he wanted to be close to you, to feel your touch, to hear your voice. And right now, studying seemed like the perfect excuse to get what he wanted.
The nickname slipped from your lips once again, your voice tinted with unexpected familiarity. "Not right now, Hee," you echoed, the term of endearment rolling off your tongue almost effortlessly.
Heeseung's chest tightened at the sound of the nickname on your lips. It was just a slip up, a moment of weakness, but it sent a wave of something through him that he couldn’t explain.
He pushed closer, his body pressed against yours now. His hand moved from your face to your waist, holding you firmly against him.
"I think we should skip the studying," he murmured, his voice low. "I have something else in mind."
Heeseung pulled out his phone and typed something quickly into it before looking back up at you.
"Texted you my address," he said, his voice cool and casual. He took another step back before giving you a brief smirk. "Don’t be late."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart racing a little faster than before.
You stood there momentarily surprised, watching as Heeseung sauntered away. Your mind was still spinning from his sudden invitation, the unexpected nickname still lingering on your lips.
Without hesitating any longer, you fished out your phone from your pocket and saw the notification from Heeseung—his address. A part of you knew what he had in mind, and you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the thought.
As you rode the bus to Heeseung’s place, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. It still felt unreal, the fact that you were on your way to your sworn enemy's home with who knows what kind of intentions.
The butterflies in your stomach were becoming more prominent, and you took deep breaths to still your heart. It was only a study session, nothing more. At least, it’s what you told yourself.
After a few more minutes, the bus came to a stop and you stepped off, looking around to make sure you were in the right place. You spotted Heeseung’s apartment building up ahead, and quickened your steps.
As you approached the door to his unit, you hesitated for a split second before knocking. The seconds ticked by, your heart rate increasing with each passing moment. Finally, the door opened, revealing Heeseung in a casual hoodie and sweatpants.
His gaze was intense, his eyes roaming over your figure in a way that made you feel even more flustered. He stepped aside wordlessly to let you in, and you walked past him into the apartment.
The air felt thick with tension, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves as you stood in his space, wondering what the night would bring.
His gaze sharpened as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your figure with an intensity that made your heart race.
“You're here,” he said as he closed the door behind you and locks it, the sound echoing in the silence of the mansion.
As soon as the door was locked, Heeseung turned to face you, his eyes dark with a fierce hunger. Without a word, he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab the back of your neck and pulled you in for a forceful kiss.
His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you even closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to claim your mouth entirely. He walked you backwards until your back hit the wall, pinning you there with his body.
"Fucking yell y/n,” he muttered, hooking his fingers in your waistband, tearing your pants down roughly as he kicked them aside along with your shoes.
He stepped back briefly to take in your half-naked form, his chest heaving. He then reached up to remove his own hoodie, revealing his chiseled torso.
His heart was pounding in his chest, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. The sight of you standing there, nearly naked, drove him wild. He closes the distance again, his calloused hands running rough against your skin.
“Heeseung, I-“ His movements suddenly still as your words reach his ears.
His eyes met yours intensely, a mix of emotion crossing his features - desire, possessiveness, and something more tender he didn’t want to acknowledge.
"Shut up," he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and heavy "Just..."
He hooked his arms under your thighs and lifts you up against the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stepped out of his sweatpants, kicking them aside, leaving him in just his boxers.
Heeseung then pinned you against the wall, his hips pressing against yours intimately. You could feel his hard member poking at your thigh. "Tell me to stop," he whispered against your neck, his teeth nipping at your sensitive skin. "Say the words..." His hands trailed up your sides, his thumbs brushing against your breasts, making you let out a quiet gasp.
His breath catches at the sound of your desperate whimpers, feeling your nails digging into his back.
"Please..." you moaned, arching against him. "Heeseung... I can't..." His self-control is barely hanging by a thread as he listened to your pleading.
His control finally snapped at your pleading, and he captured your mouth in a brutal kiss, one hand tangling in your hair while the other slides between your legs. "Is this what you want?" he growled against your lips, touching you intimately through your underwear.
He broke away from your mouth just long enough to pull down your bra, exposing your breasts. His head dipped down, capturing one taut nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his hand continued its steady rhythm between your legs.
"Mmh, so good... Heeseung, please... more... " You gasped out, your head falling back against the wall as he sucked on your sensitive nipple, your hips bucking against his hand. "Inside... I need you inside..."
His chuckled is dark and husky as he hooked his fingers in your underwear, slowly dragging it down your legs. He kneeled down, spreading your thighs over his shoulders. "Lift up," he ordered, his breath hot against your most intimate area. “Wanna taste you princess..."
Heeseung pulled your hips closer, his tongue finding your center. He licked slowly, deliberately, savoring your sweet taste. "You're so wet for me..." he groaned, adding pressure, his tongue swirling around your sensitive bud. "Tell me... tell me how much you want it..."
He looked up at you with hooded eyes, maintaining eye contact as he continued his teasing movements with his tongue "Tell me..." he says, his voice is low and commanding "Tell me how bad you need my cock..."
He pushed one finger inside you, then another "This what you want?"
"Please... Heeseung, yes... I need you... your cock..." You whimpered, your hips involuntarily pressing against his fingers "I'm so close... please..." You're completely lost in pleasure, no longer caring about anything but his touch "Touch me..."
He removed his fingers, standing up and quickly unbuckling his belt. "Shut up and spread your legs." He demanded, pulling out his hard, thick cock. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight."
He positioned himself between your spread thighs, rubbing his thick head against your soaked folds teasingly "Heeseung... Please… want you to fill me up!”
He growled at the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperation, finally thrusting inside you without warning.
He filled you completely, stretching you out as he buried himself inside you. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling your legs up against his chest as he pounded into you, hitting deep spots that made you scream and claw at his arms "Heeseung! To- to big!"
Shut up,” he hissed, his face a mask of concentration as he continued to pound into you, his hips slapping loudly against yours.
He wrapped his arms around your legs, pulling them over his shoulders, getting impossibly deeper as he continued to stretch you out.
He paused his thrusts, his face twisted in a cruel grin as he reached down and forced your mouth open.
"Take it." He spat into your mouth, the bitter taste of saliva mixing with his own saliva as he held your head in place, making sure you swallowed it. He groaned at the sight, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “Such a good girl for me, yeah?”
You nodded your head in response, bucking your hips up, but he doesn’t move. “You didn’t answer my question princess.”
“I-I’m a good girl for you..” you muttered embarrassingly as Heeseung chuckled at your flustered expression.
He wiped his thumb across your lips, smearing his saliva mixed with yours "Taste good? Now open your legs wider. I'm not done with you yet,” He let out a low groan, thrusting deeper and harder, his body slapping against yours with force "You feel that?"
"Hnnngh... f-fuck... it's so deep..." You whined, your voice strained and high-pitched as he hits your deepest spots with every thrust. Your legs shook from the intensity, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and slight pain.
He smirked darkly at your whimpers, continuing to pound into you mercilessly "You're shaking already? I haven't even gotten started yet..." he teased, reaching up and pinches one of your nipples, twisting it slightly.
His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly as he continued to thrust into you. "You like it rough, don't you?" He hummed, his face inches from yours. His grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you harder and deeper.
"Heeseung... mmph..!" you responded, too cock hungry to think straight. His hand tightened around your throat, cutting off most of your air as he continues to pound into you forcefully. "You're almost there, aren't you? Those pretty eyes are rolling back..." his voice dropped to a threatening whisper.
His free hand reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it viciously as he continues to choke you. He looks into your bulging eyes, enjoying the sight of you struggling to breathe. "Look at me while I strangle you. You so good under me y/n…”
"Look at me... yeah... that's it...” he groaned, rubbing your clit faster while maintaining his grip on your throat, making sure your orgasm builds quickly "Cum for me... let me feel you squeeze my cock..." He groaned, his voice both demanding and seductive.
Aghh... c-can't... breathe..." You managed to choke out between gasps, your vision starting to blur at the edges. His fingers on your clit were driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge even as he cuts off your air supply. "Hnngh..."
Heeseung smirked at your breathless whimpers "Just give up... let go..." he said, his voice turning husky. "Cum all over my cock while I choke you... show me how much you want it..." His fingers sped up on your clit, putting more pressure.
His hand on your throat tightened even more, his fingers digging into your neck as he continued to rub your swollen, sensitive bud furiously. "You're getting close, aren't you?” he chuckled, your legs shaking as your nails dig into his back.
He finally relents, releasing his grip on your throat and letting you gasped for air as his other hand keeps rubbing your clit at a frantic pace. He leaned down to press his lips against yours, muffling your screams as he forced his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your cries of ecstasy.
Finally, he broke the kiss just in time to watch your face contort in pleasure as you hit your climax, his fingers still working your clit. "There we go... cum all over my cock like a good girl..." He praised deeply, continuing his thrusts as your inner walls clamped down on him.
Youd body shook uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over you, your eyes rolling back as you let out a silent scream. "Heeseung! Feels so good...!" You clawed at his back desperately, your nails digging deep into his skin as you rode out your intense orgasm.
He chuckled darkly, his fingers slowly pulling out of your hair and stroking your cheek tenderly as he continued to thrust in and out of you, drawing out your pleasure. "Shh, baby. You're gushing all over my lap. Look at me." He demanded softly.
You managed to open your eyes and look up at Heeseung, your face flushed and covered in sweat as you panted heavily, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Hee-seung..." You whispered his name, your voice hoarse from screaming.
After pulling out, he coated his fingers with your mixed fluids and brought them to your lips. "Taste how good you feel wrapped around my cock..." He commanded softly, but firmly.
"Take it all..." He maintained eye contact as you obeyed, slowly sliding his fingers into your mouth.
"Such a good girl..." He praised softly, watching as you dutifully cleaned his fingers. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss before pulling back. "So pretty..."
Heeseung studied your face closely, his expression unreadable. He was still coming down from the high of your encounter and was struggling to keep a poker face.
"Hey," he said finally, his voice low. "You're unusually quiet. Are you alright?"
You took in a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I'm fine," you replied, but you still found yourself unable to meet his gaze. The aftermath of what had just happened had caught up to you, and you were struggling to process all the emotions coursing through you. But you were not ready to deal with that just yet.
"Just tired," you mumbled, shifting to sit up to put your clothes on, your legs wobbly from earlier.
Heeseung watched as you attempted to stand on shaky legs, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "You sure you don't need a hand there, princess?" he teased, pushing himself off the wall and heading over to you.
He grabbed your shirt that lay discarded on the ground and knelt down in front of you. He gently lifted your arms and slipped the shirt over your head, his touch surprisingly gentle. His hands lingered on your hips as he helped you pull the fabric down over your body.
Heeseung's unexpected act of pulling you into a tight embrace caught you off guard. "What are you doing, Hee?" you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice.
He spoke softly, his head buried in the crook of your neck. "I realized I never gave you a proper apology," he murmured.
"I'm sorry, y/n." The genuineness in his voice was undeniable, his remorse palpable.
He pulled away slightly, his hands coming up to cup either side of your face. His eyes met yours and there was something different about his gaze, a vulnerability you'd never seen before. "I'm really sorry," he repeated, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks.
You were taken aback by the earnestness in his eyes, and for the first time, you felt as though he was laying himself bare before you.
"I..." You didn't know how to respond. You had never expected to hear anything like this from Heeseung, let alone this level of vulnerability. "I... I accept your apology," you mumbled softly, still processing everything.
Heeseung's shoulders seemed to drop in relief at your accepting his apology. His hands slid down from your face to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him again.
"That's a start," he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. He leaned in, his forehead touching yours. "We've got a long way to go, you and I."
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#enhypen#enhypen x reader#heeseung x reader#heeseung fanfic#heeseung fluff#heeseung smut#enhypen heeseung#enhypen smut#enhypen soft hours#heeseung#lee heeseung x y/n#lee heeseung x reader#lee heesung smut#heeseung scenarios#lee heeseung#lee heeseung hard thoughts#lee heeseung x you#lee heesung x reader#lee heeseung hard hours#lee heeseung smut#heeseung smau#heeseung headcanons#jake fanfic#enha x reader#enha#enha imagines#enha smut#enha hard hours#enhypen imagines#enhypen hard thoughts
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Hi, new anon here--absolutely loving everything you post, I just wanted to come in & say I really love the way you characterize the saja boys with what little concrete info we got from them, and new stuff from you has made it a delight to open my phone in the mornings this last week or so <3
If you aren't totally swamped, could I potentially request Saja Boys or Huntr/x reacting to a reader with OCD tendencies? Either with the sort of classic ones I also relate to having no sense of safety (check the lock X times, touch/turn the doorknob every time you walk past, etc.) or the more mundane ones that can present themselves. Somebody who's used to it & does sometimes wish their brain wasn't like this but will only get like, a little self conscious about being caught out, instead of getting anxious about it.
For some examples I don't see often in media etc., I can't have conversations while trying to stir smth in my drinks bc I have to do it 42 times & if I lose count I have to start over, so I just. Stop talking or looking at the other person, even though I'm listening, and don't respond until I finish my count. It's caused some fun conversations! Or the intricacies of the Candy Rituals, "no it has to be blue before red" or "sort them all by color and then eat them according to group size," or "eat the kitkat from the top down layer by layer nope I broke a layer in an Unacceptable Way instead of an Acceptable Way, I can't eat this at all now." Why does it have to be this way! Wish they could tell you, really, they'd LIKE to rip open the m&ms and dump them in their mouth but if they do the brain will ITCH. for DAYS.
Apologies if this is out of left field or you're uncomfortable with it! Mostly I just wanted you to know how much I'm enjoying your work, and how much joy it brings me to read the stuff you're posting. Hope you have a great day!
- (since i do expect to come back eventually I will label myself 🪐)
Thank you for the request! This wasn't an uncomfortable request for me at all, I'm glad your enjoying my work. Here you go!💌
🌙 Saja Boys x Reader with OCD Tendencies
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🧿 Jinu
He noticed it one week in. The way your fingers brushed the doorknob every time you passed it, even if you weren’t leaving the room. A light tap. Sometimes a turn. Sometimes you paused, then did it again.
At first, he thought it was just absentminded.
But then one night, he stood in the doorway watching you come out of the bathroom. You touched the knob, walked two steps, paused—then circled back to do it again. Twice.
When you caught his eye, your shoulders stiffened.
“Habit,” you said quickly. “Weird one.”
He tilted his head, thoughtful. “You always do it in threes.”
You froze. “Yeah. Sorry. I know it looks—”
“You don’t have to explain it,” Jinu interrupted, gently. “I just want to know if it helps.”
You blinked. “It… keeps the world in place.”
He nodded. “Then I’ll make sure no one touches that knob but you.”
The next day, he put a little charm above it. Just a tiny blue sigil, like a lock. Like backup.
He never mentioned it again.
--------------------
💪 Abby
You were halfway through mixing honey into your tea when Abby leaned over and said something funny. You didn’t laugh. Didn’t even blink.
You were counting.
And you were almost to 42.
Abby blinked. “Hey—are you mad?”
You shook your head but didn’t answer.
Not yet.
You reached 41… 42.
Then you exhaled, set the spoon down, and looked up. “Sorry. I just have to stir it a certain number of times or it feels wrong.”
“Ohhh,” he said, drawing the syllable out like it clicked in his brain. “Tea math. Got it.”
You snorted. “It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s science,” he declared with a shrug, plopping down next to you. “I won’t interrupt next time. Stir with honor.”
Later, he brought you another mug. “I stirred it for you,” he said proudly.
You raised an eyebrow. “How many times?”
He grinned. “Forty-two. I counted out loud.”
It wasn’t perfect. But the thought behind it? That made your whole chest ache in the best way.
--------------------
📚 Mystery
Mystery walked into the living room just in time to see you glare at a pile of gummy bears like they’d personally offended you.
He didn’t say anything.
Just sat beside you, silent and still, watching as you sorted them by color—then by number—then lined them up by shade.
You reached for the blue one, then stopped. Your hand hovered. Too many reds. It would throw the whole thing off.
He leaned in slowly. “Want me to eat the excess red?”
You blinked. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “You always eat blue before red.”
You stared at him.
“How do you know that?”
“I live here,” he said plainly. “You’re very consistent.”
For a second, you wanted to sink into the couch. “It’s dumb, I know. I just—”
“It’s not dumb.” His voice was soft. “Your brain is loud. Rituals keep it quiet. That’s not dumb.”
You looked down at the gummy bear army. Mystery held out his hand.
“Give me the red,” he said. “I’m good at destroying things.”
--------------------
💋 Romance
Romance was used to watching people eat beautifully plated desserts. Watching you eat was a different kind of performance.
You peeled the wrapper off your KitKat carefully, broke off one stick, and began the slow disassembly—chocolate coating, top layer, inner wafer. You were meticulous. Focused.
Then… crack.
Wrong break. Jagged. Uneven.
You froze.
Romance, mid-conversation, fell silent too. He saw the shift in your shoulders. The stillness. The subtle horror in your eyes.
He reached for the ruined piece.
“May I?”
You handed it over.
He bit into it without fanfare, smiling at you like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
Then he reached for a second bar, broke it gently, and offered it to you. “Start again,” he said softly. “I’ll guard this one.”
You laughed. Just a little. “You’re weird.”
“So are you,” he said with a wink. “It’s perfect.”
--------------------
🔥 Baby
You doubled back halfway to the van. Again.
Baby watched from the passenger seat as you tugged at the door to the dorm, then the gate, then the latch. Checked them. Tugged. Pulled. Pressed the code again, even though you’d already done it twice.
It was the third time in five minutes.
When you climbed into the seat beside him, your face was tight.
“I know it’s locked,” you muttered. “But it doesn’t feel—”
“Want me to check it next time?” he asked simply.
You blinked at him.
“I can lock it after you, and then you can lock it again. Two locks. Like a combo move.”
You stared. “Wouldn’t that be annoying?”
Baby gave you a blank look. “You sit through my anime rants. This is the least I can do.”
The next day, you locked the door.
He locked it again.
You both nodded.
It wasn’t about logic. It was about peace.
And Baby? He’d do it as many times as it took.
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#kpdh x reader#saja boys x reader#baby x reader#jinu x reader#mystery x reader#abby x reader#romance x reader#kpop demon hunters#kpdh
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