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sweetinsaniiity · 1 year ago

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My Heart, I Surrender

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - intruder!san x virgin!reader ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 - smut with plot, age gap of 10 years (but both full adults), sociopathic tendencies but San is a !gentleman, suspense, somnophilia, fingering, hair-pulling, , corruption kink, breeding kink, oral sex (FL receiving), creampie, no protection (do NOT do this!), tit sucking, rough sex, size kink, overstimulation, cum tasting ◄ ► 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - MDNI, sexual assault, degrading name calling (slut, whore), heavy dubcon content , CNC, reluctance, gaslighting and manipulation to give in, fear play, loss of virginity ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 16.5K (goal was 14K but oh well) ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - The most unforgettable night of your life happens when an intruder breaks in and steals your body, your innocence, and your heart. ◄

► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - If this is triggering to you, please do not continue. This is a work of fiction not meant to represent the members in real life. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS TYPE OF ENCOUNTER. This is not a go-signal for anyone to do this. This is a fantasy and IT SHOULD STAY THAT WAY. You have been warned. More notes towards the end. Join the taglist here. Title from I Prevail ◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @ginger-mingi ◄

The pouring rain has always provided me with a sense of comfort I cannot even begin to explain. I wasn't sure if it was the sound of it hitting the pavement, or even the smell of it as it watered the meadow fields. Oh, the fresh scent of it when it hits my nose when I inhale brings serenity.

So here I stood under a dingy, little waiting shed where I sought shelter from the rain that I claimed to love.

I looked left and right hoping to see a bus coming while I rubbed my arms and my teeth chattered, but nothing. Even the waiting shed did absolutely nothing to shield me from the biting cold.

I sighed, instantly regretting not making it on time here for the other bus. With nothing better to do, I sat back down on the somewhat clean-ish seat that the shed provided and waited it out. If it wasn't for the rain, I would have been busy admiring the lush trees and the beautiful spring flowers that surrounded the area like I always usually did when I waited for the bus.

I perked when I saw headlights to my left through the haze, but I quickly became disappointed when I realized it wasn't my bus, it was just a car passing by.

"Damn," I deflated back onto my seat. dejected at the thought of staying in this shed for longer than I wanted to.

I stared at the oncoming car, suddenly wishing I could drive. I wouldn't be waiting if I knew how. It came faster and faster until I was able to make out its model and its colour - a sleek black.

And then it completely stopped in front of me.

I frowned, confused and then got frightened at what the owner possibly wanted. It could be anything, but the one that struck in my mind was some sick psycho that wanted to do things to me, a lone girl in a deserted area.

I cursed in my mind when I looked around and nobody was around to hear me scream for help just in case. I looked down suddenly, finding my shoes interesting, hoping that the driver would go away soon.

I bit my lip when I heard the distinct sound of a car window rolling down. Oh God, I thought nervously. Was I about to get kidnapped?

"Y/N?"

As if I wasn't nervous enough. My confusion grew not only because I heard my name out of nowhere, but that voice sounded a little too familiar.

I looked up and my heart stopped beating for a second or two. He was the kind of handsome that made me hold my breath and those chestnut eyes that stared already spoke to me before he even said a word.

"M-Mr. Choi!" I blurted out in mild surprise. I stood up and began to approach his car but quickly stumbled when I realized it was still raining. "W-What are you doing here?"

I blushed profusely when he smiled at me, it was heart-melting, especially when his dimples popped out from his cheeks. I mentally cursed myself for being this embarrassing in front of him.

"This is near my workplace," he replied. He slowly raked his eyes from my feet all the way to my face and his smile grew wider. "How long have you been waiting for the bus?"

"Almost an hour," I replied truthfully.

His smile drops slightly and he clicks his tongue. He presses on something and I hear the click of something unlocking. "Get in," he cocked his head towards the passenger seat.

My face heats up even more if that was possible. "Oh," I squeak out. "I-I couldn't possibly impose on you, I'm fine, really."

"Please, I insist," he pauses to gauge my reaction. "I would feel awful if I just left you here stranded."

I was weighing my options, but the reality was, I was afraid he would hear how hard my heart was beating if I was to go into the same space as him, let alone something as intimate as a car.

He sighed when he saw me doubting. "We live in the same complex anyway, plus that bus won't be coming soon," he insisted.

I pursed my lips together, and it didn't escape his attention. He was right, I was the one being unreasonable. Plus, I knew him. I knew he had pure intentions - to simply just take me home.

"Okay," I murmured, finally agreeing to his insistence.

I stopped breathing when he broke out into the widest grin. "Good," he beamed.

I was about to move and get my stuff from the seat when Mr. Choi got out of the car and started to walk towards me through the rain. "You're going to get wet!" I tried to stop him.

"A little rain wouldn't hurt me," he shot me a wink and I almost fainted at the sight.

He passed me and I caught a whiff of his cologne, the smallest hint of it already transporting me into places I don't dare go in. He carried my stuff for me as he opened the umbrella I didn't even notice he had because I was busy looking at him.

"L-Let me carry the umbrella, at least," I offered like a decent human being. I made a move to grab the umbrella, but he quickly moved it away.

I glanced up at him and I was taken aback by the sharp and scathing look he gave me, but it was gone in less than a second. He opened the car door for me and I immediately forget about it. To his warm cologne and his even warmer actions, it was easy to like him.

"Cold?" he asked as he buckled his seatbelt. I nodded, not that I had a choice, I was literally shivering when I got in.

I murmured a small 'thank you' when he upped the heat in his car, and just like that, we drove away from that wretched waiting shed. I held in a satisfied exhale as I sank into the softest and most comfortable seat I've ever sat on.

"You said your workplace was near here?" I began to speak in hopes to fill in the awkward air. "May I ask what you do?"

"I have a startup company along with my friends downtown. You know that 7-Eleven by the corner?" I nodded slowly and he hummed. "It's near that area. I always pass this road to go home."

So that explains the aura he exuded - mature, well-put together. And, by God, the way he always dressed. Today, he wore a business suit that was tailored so well and emphasized his body. It made him look like he had power.

"You?" he continued. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, I just met up with a couple of my friends," I shrugged. "Got a little too carried away and missed my ride."

"No one offered to take you home?"

"They all live on the other side of the city, plus my complex is far. I don't mind riding the bus."

There was a moment of hesitation on his face. "I can drive for you from now on," he offered as he glanced at me side-eyed while he tried to focus on the road.

I watched him side-eyed as well, afraid to turn my head to stare at him head on. My mouth felt dry and I didn't know what to say, and there was a certain gentleness in his voice that made me want to reach out to him.

"N-No, I don't want to be a bother, Mr. Choi."

"San."

"Huh?" I asked, confused.

In an instant, he turned and our eyes finally met. "Just call me San."

"I-I can't possibly do that," I muttered. I felt my heart lodge onto my throat, but I tried to play it cool. "You are my senior."

He put on the most inviting, volatile, and apathetic smirk. It was such the opposite expression to his usual gentleness. "Why?" San raised a mischievous brow. "Your boyfriend is going to get mad?"

I couldn't move, it felt like I would have to muster tremendous effort to do so, and my brain was lagging. I had to think and move well.

"No, I don't have a boyfriend," I finally uttered. His smirk grows bigger, though I chose to ignore it.

"That settles it, then," San chuckled more to himself, the sound of it so low that it brought shivers to my spine.

He noticed it and before I could turn away from him clearly flustered, a grin spread across his face and made him look even more handsome than he already was, if it was possible. I'm pretty sure my face was redder than a tomato right now.

"Are you going to be a dear and think about it, at least?" San looked left and right on the street before driving across the familiar intersection that led to the complex.

At that moment, I felt my body flush warm. I must have made a small sound of agreement because San let it go for now and finally concentrated on driving both of us. I'm not even sure, and I don't want to care right now.

It was silent, the only sound we could hear was the rain hitting the roof of the car and the heater whirring in the air. Outside there is no traffic and the light had finally gone, which might mean that it was almost nighttime. The fragile peace had taken over us, and it gave me moments to think.

Being in the car with the one and only Choi San definitely wasn't in my list of things to do today. He was well-known in the complex we lived at immediately after he moved in a couple of months ago. He wasn't my neighbour, not even close, but even he had caught my unassuming eye.

He was attractive - hot, to be frank. When he walked into the room, it seemed as if conversation stopped to sit in stunned silence, he had all of our attention and he knew it. He knew damn well we all found him attractive, yet he never let it all go into his head. He was the sweetest gentleman who always smiled and helped around without asking for something in return.

I couldn't help the admiration I felt for him, and it wasn't only me who held a high opinion of him, everyone I knew did so that automatically doesn't make my admiration anything special in itself.

Or maybe mine was something more. I quickly brushed the thought away from my mind because I knew that it was impossible. San might not even look or want somebody that was much younger than him. In this case, if I wasn't mistaken, I was a good ten years younger than him.

"You look like you want to say something," San suddenly spoke.

"Do you have a family?" I sputtered out before I could stop myself.

I was waiting for San to laugh or think I'm stupid, or perhaps make a snide remark of how nosy I was getting, but it never came.

"No, I currently don't," he replied, the gentleness he was known for back in his voice.

Which means that he's open to having one in the future.

"I see," I trailed off. I didn't know what else to say, I already got the answer to my question.

I choked on my next breath when I felt San's right hand grab my thigh. Almost robotically, my head slowly swivels to stare at him wide-eyed with unparalleled surprise. He stayed focused on the road, but I saw a ghost of a smirk grace his lips.

"Close your mouth, doll," San whispered, his voice dropping into a husky rasp. "Look away."

It took everything in me to do so and stare straight ahead on the unwinding road. The sudden grab made my heart pound so hard, the way his thumb would slowly caress my thighs left goosebumps in its wake.

"Mr. Choi," I began, trying very hard to keep my voice leveled, but we both knew that it sounded shakier than the sky right now.

He side-eyes me once more, his other hand still maneuvering the steering wheel, and raised a brow. "I told you," he griped. "It's San."

A shaky breath left my mouth when he squeezed my thigh. It was enough for me to feel it, but not enough for it to hurt - not even close. He let go momentarily and drummed his slender fingers on my thighs, instead. I swallowed as I stared at his sinful fingers, the things they could do...

"Say my name."

I snapped out of the indecent thoughts from my head before they could fully form. "Pardon?" I questioned.

He chuckled, this time, those dimples of his popped out again. I could have sworn my heart leapt out of my chest. "I said," San spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Say my name."

"B-But--"

"Say it."

I gasped when he squeezed my thigh with more pressure. It still didn't hurt, but something else of mine hurt. "Okay, okay," I sighed. "S-San."

His lips stretched into a satisfied grin and he finally let go and kept his hand to himself. "Good girl," he smiled.

The hair on my nape prickled at the way San's voice - deep, thick, and most of all, powerful - but that wasn't even the worst part. He was smiling, and that smile was something he reserved when he was being the sweetest, most precious gentleman everybody knew him to be.

What have I gotten myself into? Was he not who everybody, including me, thought he was? My chest was about to explode, my hands were getting clammy and I was close to hyperventilating as I leaned closer to the door to try and avoid him.

Soon enough, we reached the apartment complex and he had slowly stopped the car in front of my apartment. I don't know how he knew where I lived, but at this point, I was not even going to ask. I might hear something I was not ready to hear.

"T-Thank you," I mumbled and hurriedly grabbed my things so I could get the hell out of his car as fast as humanly possible. There was no way I was staying in it longer - it was suffocating.

I speedwalked immediately away and I was about to be completely out of his sight when he stopped me and called me back. "Y/N, wait."

I cursed under my breath and begrudgingly looked back at him with an expectant gaze. The tremors in my heart upped when I saw that beautiful smile I always found attractive on him.

"I'll see you later, doll," he said with hopeful vigor. Did I want to see him again?

"I highly doubt it," I nervously tucked a stray hair out of my face to avoid looking at him. At the end of the day, he was kind enough to take me home but it ended there. We had nothing in common and there was no way he would look at me like that.

He smirked, the dark look in his eyes made me shrink from where I stood. "You never know."

He definitely doesn't mean that. Right?

I didn't bother to watch his car drive off. I quickly ran into my apartment and straight into the shower in record time to take the grime off of my body and hopefully, relax.

That was wishful thinking on my part. There was absolutely no way I could erase that odd encounter with San from my brain in the next few weeks.

I stood still in the shower and let all the water flow from my scalp all the way down to my toes. Heat filled my entire body when I stared at the section where San had squeezed my thighs. It was slightly pink from the pressure, something that would face away in a couple of minutes.

The way his personality would switch in a matter of seconds creeped the living hell out of me. He went from being so endearing to something else completely that went over my brain capacity.

I frowned, not fully able to comprehend how San was as a person. This is exactly why you should never take a person at face value - they might end up surprising you in ways you never thought was even possible.

I dried my hair, still in a daze. Usually I would spend some time with skin and body care, but tonight I didn't care enough to even make an effort, so after I was done with my hair, I put on my favourite silk nightgown.

I decided to sit down momentarily on the couch to do some deep thinking, but that ended up being a dud. Within moments, I was asleep.

I stirred awake in the middle of the night, I was confused, I was the type who slept like a log once I'm out - this means I usually never wake up in between my sleep, if not, at all. I tried to shake the confusion and moved my arm towards the bedside table to grab my phone.

'4:20 A.M.'

I groaned softly, frustrated at the fact that it's dead in the night and I was sentient. I had to work in a few hours and I never did well when my sleep pattern was disturbed. I willed myself to sleep and put the blanket over my head.

I opened my eyes, startled. Blanket?

I tried to make sense of what my mind was slowly realizing. I was in bed when I knew for a fact that I had fallen asleep on the couch hours ago.

My brain alerted me into panic and this time, I was fully awake. Maybe I had walked to my bed half asleep and I just didn't remember it? Impossible. I was a heavy sleeper, I would have definitely remembered if I got up unceremoniously. So the question was, how am I here, and how long have I been here?

I sat up, rubbing my eyes timidly to will the sleepiness away from me. Maybe I have just been stressed out at work and am blacking out sometimes, which was worrying if that really was the case.

I looked at the couch I was in and everything was fine, except for the dark figure sitting down on it. I stared for a few minutes before shaking my head.

"Definitely tired," I mumbled to myself, disoriented, before laying back down and trying to fall back asleep. I wonder what that was...

My heart dropped to my stomach when I realized what the hell I just saw and I opened my eyes once more, this time, the sleepiness was fading away. A dark figure sitting on my couch?

How long has it been here just watching me sleep? I stiffened, the energy in the room felt absolutely different. I stayed still, listening quietly if something would be moved or if I was really imagining things.

But nothing. Just the thick, sinister silence that enveloped the room. With mild unease slowly creeping up to me, I chose to stay still in fear, hoping that this was only a dream and that thing was a figment of my imagination.

Except that I knew it wasn't. I knew it was a person. I saw that it was a man. He was sitting comfortably on my couch with his arms crossed, watching me sleep.

My worst fears came to life when I heard a shuffle and the distinct sound of somebody getting up from the couch. My heart started beating frantically when I felt the bed dip behind me. I tried not to flinch at the sudden intrusion, I tried not to breathe either.

Who was in my bed? How in the world did they even get in? I was a thousand percent sure I locked the door when I came home too, so how? Luckily, the only other entrance to my apartment - my window - was in my direct view, and my heart dropped when I saw that it was wide open.

'Please, go away, please,' I prayed inside my head, but things never really worked out like that, didn't they?

I felt a large hand touch my leg, its presence leaving a burning feeling upon my skin. It stayed there for what seemed like forever until it gently lifted the blanket up a bit so the hand could slide up my skin.

I tried to remain unmoved as my mind struggled to make sense of what was happening and I almost let out a whimper when I felt the rough hand slowly caress my skin and it wept higher until it stopped at my clothed thigh. His hand was dangerously close to my core and it was terrifying.

I shut my eyes as tightly as possible, the dread of waiting what he was going to do next making me want to pass out in extreme horror.

He did the unexpected - he lifted his hand away from my thigh and I would have been relieved, but I felt the mattress dip even more and I can tell from the movement that he was trying to climb the bed and stay next to me.

Tears started to pool in my eyes, I was petrified in fear. I heard the man sigh softly as he slowly started to stroke my hair in the warmest and gentlest manner. I stopped breathing when his fingers slowly started to trace my face - my cheeks, lips, nose.

"I know you're awake," I heard him whisper, cutting through the dead silence.

I willed myself to open my eyes and it took a while for them to adjust, but the panic seeps into me nonetheless when I saw him. He was sitting tentatively beside me, and since he was against the light, I still couldn't see his face clearly.

But I can tell he was huge. There was no way I could fight him.

"Did you...move me to the bed?" I asked, my voice shaking as I fought the tears from falling from my eyes.

"Yes," he replied, and the sound of it sent shivers to my body. He had a deeper voice, it was unfortunately pleasant to my ears.

"What do you want from me?" I asked next, afraid of what the answer might be. He began to stroke my hair again. "Please, don't do that..."

He tensed, his hand stopping at my head and I was terrified that he would start grabbing my hair, but surprisingly, he does stop. "A lot of things," he cryptically replied.

I suppress a whimper when I feel him move. I was too terrified to move and the intruder took the opportunity to lean down my ear.

I exhaled a terrified sigh when I felt his breath hit my ear. I finally let out a whimper when he blew softly in my ear and more goosebumps flared up on my skin. He chuckled softly, the closeness of his proximity emphasizing how menacing it was.

"For example," I could hear the smirk in his voice. "You, for one."

My eyes go wide, the reality of the situation crashing down on me abruptly, and I realize what his intentions were with me - he was going to assault me.

Tears started streaming down my face, and without thinking, I pushed the blanket off me and quickly tried to roll to the edge of the bed, but I didn't make it too far when I felt my feet being grabbed.

I screamed bloody murder when I was dragged roughly back into the middle of the bed, my hands grabbing I could to stop myself, but it was no use.

I was flipped to my back and I cried harder when he grabbed my arms violently and pinned them above my head as he straddled me.

"Please don't hurt me," I cried, my own pitiful voice getting to me. I closed my eyes as tightly as possible as if that would make the man on top of me vanish.

I flinched when I felt fingers stroke my cheek gently. "Shh, breath," he hushes. "I need you to calm down."

I struggled momentarily underneath him. I gasped when he pushed the hand he was using to pin both of mine on the bed with a pressure that was almost painful. "Stay still," he said, his voice taut.

I tried my luck again but all that earned me was a growl from him. "Stay still," he reiterated coldly, the gentleness in his voice gone. "And shut up."

I listened and I stayed still for what seemed like hours, my position vulnerable. I was afraid of what he'd do if I disobeyed.

I gulped when I felt him leaning forward, gasping quietly when I felt his other hand cup my cheek and give it a gentle kiss, his lips lingering for a while before he started whispering the most soothing words I'd hear for a while.

"Just like that, doll, breathe in and out for me," he mumbled tenderly. He started to soothingly stroke my skin - my face, my neck, my arms. "I am not going to hurt you."

"I'm going to scream if you don't get off me," I spoke in an attempt to threaten him, and it came out sounding pathetic.

He hummed like a gentle parent comforting their child. "There's really no need, I said I'm not going to hurt you, so don't be scared."

"Y-You're scaring me," I gulped, my eyes still closed.

How can I not be scared? He was huge and I knew for a fact that even if I died trying, I don't have a chance of overpowering him.

He planted a small kiss on the top of my head and I caught a whiff of his cologne. I froze, that smelled extremely familiar.

"Am I?" I heard him sigh. "I'm sorry."

I can hear and feel the blood rushing to my ears. Now that my sight is blank, all my other senses are stronger and I am now slowly realizing how awfully familiar his voice was sounding. I just couldn't pinpoint who exactly it was.

"Do I...know you?" I slowly asked, my chest heaving up and down to due my breathlessness.

Unfortunately, he noticed it. My breath hitched when his free hand, the one not pinning mine down, lightly brushed my hardened nipples. I cursed mentally for not wearing a bra tonight.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" he mumbled before he stopped touching my breasts. I breathe a sigh of relief. A couple more seconds and I would have made a sound.

"Maybe you do," he continued. "Maybe you don't."

What a terrifying response. A stranger, an intruder, was in my home and basically holding me captive and I had no idea how far he would go tonight.

I ignored him and my shaky voice sounded, "What do you intend to do to me?"

Fright constricted my chest when he leaned down and gave the soft skin on my neck little bites, pecks, and licks. "What do you want me to do to you?" his husky voice purrs into my ear.

Heat spreads all over my body at the involuntary pleasure I felt from the little of kisses, the small kissing sounds his lips were making against my skin loud in my ears and I ashamedly clenched my legs together. I felt him smile against my skin when my body betrayed me and I gasped a bit when he sucked on my skin.

"I'm going to make you feel good," he murmured, his free hand touching and squeezing my hips and sides, just stopping below my chest.

I whined moving my head slightly in a poor attempt to get him off of me. It was extremely humiliating. "Don't," he warned, his voice rigid and gravely.

Tears started to form again in my eyes. It was so pathetic. Had I been stronger enough, I would have been out of here. I gasp when his hand kneads my breast, and he was doing it so tenderly as if he was afraid that I would burst if he wasn't careful enough.

"P-Please," I arched my back unwillingly towards his hand. I felt him groan deeply against my skin, the vibration sent shivers to my spine.

"Shh, I said stop moving," he held me tighter, more tensely. I got a bit frightened, he was so unpredictable that I didn't know how to act.

My brain can't properly wrap around the situation. He's an intruder, which I can only assume as someone who is never up to any good, but he is excruciatingly gentle, and the way he can make my body react to his touch was alarming.

"Ah!" I squealed when he suddenly pinched my nipple. He laughed huskily and he didn't do it again. My skin was on fire, I have never been more terrified in my life than right now.

"You feel so good, I can't wait to make you mine." he growled. "Not that you weren't yet."

It occurred to me that it must be a nightmare, perhaps I should just go with it, or maybe if she refused he would willingly leave. But that would never happen, he was here to take me.

I snapped back into reality when I heard the worst sound I could possibly hear all night - a zipper being undone.

I began thrashing and resisting again. "Wait, wait, please stop," I begged. "I-I'll give you anything you want, I have money---"

I screamed when his hand wrapped around my neck. "You're testing my patience, doll," he hissed, squeezing on the sides of my neck.

I choked on little air, I was getting lightheaded before he let me go. I took big gulps of chair as I coughed, scared out of my wits. Oh God, I thought dreadfully. He's going to kill me!

"You move one more time," he whispered menacingly. "I am going to shove my cock in you and fuck you like the little cumslut you are." I whined when he bit my shoulder painfully, I was pretty sure it drew blood. "You understand?"

When I didn't respond, he bit my shoulder harder. "Speak when told to," he growled.

"Yes! Yes! Okay, okay! Please," I cried like a wounded animal, - well, I am now - and he lets my shoulders go.

"Good. If you're a good girl, I won't do anything," he chuckled. He gave me soft kisses on the area he bit. "You poor thing..."

This was much worse than I thought. I hate this, I hate every single moment of this. I had noticed early on that if I did as he said, he would be fine, but the moment I acted up, he would get rougher.

"Anyway," he said sarcastically. "I don't want your money."

"Why not?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He laughed amusingly. He had an infuriatingly attractive laugh. If only it wasn't too dark, I could have seen his face too. "Because money can't get me what I want right now."

I frowned. "I'm going to call the police on you," I stated, my voice shaking, hoping that he'd get intimidated enough.

"Cute," he chuckled lowly.

"Please, don't do this," I begged loudly.

"Why not?" he clicked his tongue. "I promise that I wouldn't do anything you don't want."

"I don't want you here," I sniffled.

"Don't say that," he replied tensely, his grip on my hands tightening as well.

There was nothing more I wished for right now than somebody to help me. My mind drifted to Mr. Choi. He would have helped me if I asked. I regretted not getting his number like everyone did.

Even with the odd encounter in the car with him, I knew him to be of moral standards and he would help. He was the only one I knew big and strong enough to take this stranger down.

He finally let my hands go and I tensed as I felt him moving in on top of me. I whimpered when his hands spread my legs so he could lay down on me in between them. I blushed both in anger and embarrassment. I had no underwear tonight and I can feel his erection straining through his pants.

His mouth found mine and my eyes flew open immediately. He gave me an open mouthed kiss before pulling away to grasp the back of my neck.

"Look at me," he demanded roughly. I shook my head aggressively and in rebellion and turned my head to the side in spite. He can honestly kiss my ass---

"Oh," I rasped when his hand started to massage and knead my inner thighs. I winced when his mouth started to attack my neck again. This time he roughly bit and sucked, his tongue swirled all over the sensitive parts of my skin as his hands slowly went higher and higher at a dangerous pace.

I was overwhelmed with the odd mixture of pain, fear, pleasure, and hopelessness. The way his hot breath hit my ears was so distracting too.

"Doll, look at me," he whispered against my ear in a tortured voice. "I want to see your beautiful face."

"Please, stop! I really don't want to," I gritted my teeth.

He chuckled. "We'll see."

He lifts my nightgown up to my hips and before I knew it, his nimble fingers grazed my pussy. I was petrified, heat ignited my whole being. I hear his shaky breaths against my ear and I fight off the urge to even breathe, myself.

"Stop it, please, stop," I begged through my broken cries.

He ignored my pleas as he played with little tufts of my hair down there. I didn't shave, yes, but I wasn't expecting this either. He traces my pussy lips with a finger, sliding up and down, and I couldn't stop the moan from my lips when he goes in between.

"That feel good?" he whispered, his voice taut. He groaned when my body shakes beneath him as he circled my swollen clit. "I can give you more than this."

"N-No, please, I-I think I'm good," my voice trembled from the sensation.

"Then look at me," he commanded, his voice back to its kind tone as he coaxed me. "Please, doll."

"I don't know you enough for that type of connection," I swallowed. "Just get this over with."

"But you do know me, have you forgotten?" he mused, his fingers slowing down. I tried to rack my brain for anything, but there was nothing. When I didn't reply, he sighed. "I guess not."

His form went from slight amusement to a detrimental, subtle disappointment. I can feel his despondent stare penetrate through myself, and it was then I realized that he was actually disappointed at my lack of response.

"That man in the car earlier," he began. "Who's that?"

I was confused at first, then I remembered what he was referring to. Terror washed over me, he was watching me when San had taken me home?

"A friend," I curtly replied, making it short and hopefully he'll buy it.

He scoffed lightly and removed his hands from my aching cunt. I was pleasantly surprised when he actually got off me and sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned on me. I breathed a sigh of relief but not for long because he still seemed like he wanted to ask more and I was right.

"A friend, huh?" he scoffed again. "It didn't seem like it earlier. There was definitely a connection there."

I gulped. This man was dangerous. He was watching close enough to know the difference. I had to tell him the truth. "It wasn't like that," I bit my lip. "Mr. Choi has always been kind, he's a key figure in the complex."

His back tenses. "Why? You think you don't have a chance or something?"

"That thought never even crossed my mind," I sighed.

"Why?"

His voice was very strained. I paused, not knowing what to say. It was unnerving and the silence was making me sweat. I stared at his form and I almost gasped when I looked up at his face.

I couldn't see it but the shadows in his side profile blew my mind. This man was clearly handsome, not that it mattered since he was a creep, but I don't know. Maybe I was expecting a drunkard of an imp. Certainly not this one.

He clenched his jaw and I had to restrain the cynicism in my eyes. "Is it the age gap?"

My eyes widened in surprise. How did he know? San definitely didn't look that old from afar. That or I'm the one who looks old.

"W-Well, not necessarily," I stammered. "Though that is a huge factor, yes." I had this urge to tell him the truth, I don't know why. "Plus, there's no way Mr. Choi would look at me in that way."

"How would you know? You never once spared even a glance in my direction."

I was confused at what he was referring to. He did say that I knew him, but I certainly don't remember anyone that I was close with enough for me to look at them. The physical aspect too, this man is big and sturdy, I don't remember...

My brows furrowed in concentration as the man stood up from my bed and my breath halted. That was a lie, I did know someone who looked like this.

He stepped into the light and I audibly gasped. I'd always known he was incredibly good-looking but the light that the moon gave him did him justice. His jawline was exquisite, such a contrast to his cat-like features, and by God, his body.

He stared at me with a seriousness I'd never seen him wear before as he took his grey suit off. He was left with a black turtleneck sweater that did nothing to hide his large biceps from me.

"S-San?" I uttered his name before I could stop myself, sitting up so I could take a good look at him and determine if he was an apparition or not.

I couldn't help the shock and the dread that came over me. The one person, I had been putting up on a pedestal, the one man I had been thinking of asking for help in my dire situation was none other my intruder.

"I am deeply disappointed with you, Y/N. Truly," he shook his head in mock concern and crossed his arms over his chest.

San stared at me as I attempted to cover my almost naked body with my blanket and a couple of pillows. "That's not going to help your case," he smirked.

"I'm going to scream," I said indignantly. San raised a brow in amusement. "I mean it, please get out! I won't tell anyone---"

"Scream, if you must," he shrugged nonchalantly, walking closer to the bed again. "I paid the neighbours for vacation. They're probably halfway across the world now," he grinned sadistically.

I gasped when he put his arms on the bed, leaned on me, and whispered in my ear. "It's just you and me, doll. So go ahead, scream. It turns me on."

I pushed him away from me hastily and edged myself to the corner of my bed. "You're a monster!" I screamed.

San laughed loudly. "Finally," he mused. "I was so sick of playing nice with you. I like you like this. You look prettier."

The way he laughed out loud maniacally and sadistically scared me almost half to death. It was loud, deep, and menacing and it reminded me of how the devil would laugh if it existed.

I was alone, so screaming really wouldn't do anything. And I certainly wasn't going to knowingly do anything that was going to excite him. That was a terrifying thought.

The fact that it was the Choi San - the well-known gentleman, the man who was known to always smile despite everything, the one who drove me home without anything in return, at that time at least, and the person who was beloved by everybody from children to elderly people.

And the one I had admired from afar because of those qualities. I felt betrayed, and it hurt more than I'd like to admit.

We stared at each other for a moment, unmoving. San's icy glare was shrouded with the unmistakable fire of anger and lust, and I was afraid of how he would hurt me if he had become a little too unstable.

"You're a sociopath," I declared after the awkward silence.

He raised his brows in a seemingly displeased manner, but at the same time, I knew he was amused. "Oh? Pray tell, my pretty doll," he mocks. "Enlighten me."

"I mean it," I declared, exasperated. "Y-You can't just break into my apartment like this and expect me to like you afterwards! You're sick in the head!"

He sighed, looking away from and staring at the window he broke into. For a second, I thought he was rethinking his actions, but no. He wasn't the Choi San I knew him to be anymore, I wasn't sure how far his instability would take me.

He side-eyes me, I looked back expectantly. "You can just give in to me or we can do this the hard way," San convinced, his tone calm but persuasive. He knew he had the charm and he was using it to his advantage.

"You took that option away from me when you forced your way in here and touched me in ways I didn't want," I scoffed.

I was about to say more choice words, when San whipped his head towards me fast and I noticed his eye twitching slightly and the veins popping on his forehead while he looked at me long, too long, and hard. I gulped. He was angry.

I know I shouldn't, I know that I'm digging my own grave here by talking back at him but I can't help it. Whether it was the betrayal, one only I knew, or the adrenaline, I wasn't sure.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Y/N," he hid his annoyance with arrogance. It was the first time he said my name tonight and it dripped with venom. "Come hell or high water, I will make you mine."

The conviction in San's voice at his confession was nothing short of astounding and the way he's looking at me right now, I can't stand the intensity of it - he would rather take death than failure right now.

"And who do you think you are?" I was irked, really irked actually. It was the easiest way to hide my panic. "And if I say no?"

San smirked, darkness shrouding his features like he was waiting for me to screw up and say something stupid so he had an excuse to finally say what he's been wanting to say.

"I'm going to fuck you," San dared, no hint of amuse left in his tone. "The plan was to make you submit, but if it's impossible, then I'll just take you. The choice is yours."

I was taken aback. "You wouldn't," I whispered.

San cocked his head to the side. "Would you like to test that theory?"

I can tell he was serious, too. I haven't known him well, but tonight was not the night to test his integrity and if he was a man of his word.

"Can we just do this next time?" I begged. "I-I can come up with a better proposition for us--"

"No," he quickly cut off. "I already called out of your work earlier, anyway. We have all night and morning."

My face contorts in confusion. "What?" I apprehensively asked.

San started to stalk towards me until he was at the end of the bed. I gulped, the way his muscles rippled against his clothes emphasized just how big he was and how powerless I was.

He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheeks as he looked down on me, literally and figuratively. He exuded a power that you can't touch, and honestly, it made me realize how truly dominant he was.

"I know everything about you, doll," he said as he took his wristwatch off and placed it on my bedside table. "I wanted you the moment I saw you for the first time."

I was tense and I watched him take his necklace out next while maintaining eye contact with me. "I kept asking around about you because for some reason, we never were in the same place together. You know what they said?"

I swallowed restlessly when he started to unbuckle his belt next. "You were the sweetest, kindest, and now that I'm up close and personal, the most innocent thing too."

His eyes darkened by the second and it reminded me of that sharp and scathing look I thought I saw on him earlier before I got in his car. It clicked; which one was the real San?

"I know everything about you, my doll, except for one thing," he smirked before he took his turtleneck sweater off. "I don't know how you sound when I'm inside you, yet."

"You can't do this," I whimpered pathetically, trying not to look at how unfortunately beautiful his naked torso was.

His smirks widened. "You asked me in the car earlier if I had a family." Finally, his pants were off too. "I could give you one right now."

I didn't even have the time to look at his body - both in embarrassment and denial - and I let out a loud cry of protest when San grabbed my legs again and pulled me towards him. I kicked to try and stop him from having a good grip, but he was too strong.

"Hey, stop! Get off of me!" I screamed when he got on top of me and pinned me down on my back again. He secured me by pinning my legs as well with his knees. "Stop!"

His hand covers my mouth and my screams drowned into a muffled cry instead. "Shut the fuck up," he hissed. My eyes widened in terror at his threatening tone.

His eyes were so dark, fierce, intense, and domineering and it was then that it sunk in that he really was going to have his way with me. I groaned when he bucked his hip onto my stomach. I panicked, I could tell that it was going to tear me into two.

"Get off me, you bastard!" I growled when San took his hand off my mouth.

He laughed that attractive laugh of his again, the dimples that made me like him popping out once more. "You don't listen well, huh? I told you to shut up."

"And I told you to leave me alone!" I snapped back. His eyes twinkle in amusement. "So both of us are bad at listening then!"

In an adrenaline rush, I spit on him, and my saliva landed directly on the corner of his mouth. He was surprised for a second before he covered it up with annoyance. "You're getting on my nerves," he chuckled without humour.

Without breaking eye contact with me, he stuck his tongue out and slowly, sensually, licked my spit for him to swallow. I feel a gush of wetness between my legs and my cheeks burn in embarrassment while I whine in denial.

He raised a brow, pleased. "Don't fight on this. Your body knows what it wants."

"Go to hell," I growled in refutation.

His eyes narrowed into slits. "What's that?" San spat out in anger.

His hand hastily grabs the front of my nightgown with such force that the straps both broke. I gasped and then groaned in pain when his hand grabbed my exposed breasts painfully.

"Please," I croaked, my voice strained. "Don't hurt me."

A startled cry escaped from my lips when he bit down on my hardened nipple and tears formed from my eyes. He looked up at me and his eyes softened when he saw the pitiful state I was in.

"Be still," mumbled apologetically. "I won't hurt you."

I exhaled in relief but that relief quickly washed off of me at San's next words.

"If you listen to what I tell you, I won't hurt you."

"Please, I can't do--ah!" I yelped when he bit my nipple again.

"I wasn't asking," he hissed. His tone left me no chance to argue with him.

I can feel the fear in my chest waiting to take over at San's threats. But I was a virgin! It's not that I was a prude or I thought I was better than anyone else, no man has held my interest enough and most of them were after my body more than me as a person.

I bit my bottom lip hard when San's mouth started gently kissing my chest and then his mouth closed around my nipple while he played with other.

"Wait," I whimpered when he started to gently suck, his tongue flicking out to lick them and then twirled it around his tongue. It was something new for me and I couldn't help but shake.

"Relax, doll," he murmured in between his sucks.

Tingles filled my whole body, and I felt something tickling down there. Pleasure radiated all over and body in ways I couldn't understand and I started to moan uncontrollably.

I looked down and saw San already looking up at me while he continued licking the sensitive bud. It was such an erotic sight and before I knew it, a wave of pleasure sent my body into shock and I began spasming against San's chest.

San held me in his arms and let go of my nipple with a small 'pop'. I buried my face onto his chest in shame - I had just orgasmed with my nipples, alone.

San gently laid me back and we stared at each other wide-eyed, both of us clearly shocked at what just happened. Surprisingly, San doesn't comment on it. He leans in and gives me a kiss on my forehead.

"Good girl," he murmured. He put my arms around his neck and he buried his head on my neck and rocked my back and forth. "That's my good girl, just relax, okay? I got you..."

The way he was looking at me with such tender eyes and there was an expression in it that I couldn't exactly pinpoint. His soothing voice filled my ears and I let myself get lost in San for a moment.

"My pretty girl, oh, my Y/N..."

"Everything about you is so beautiful to me."

"I adore you so much, you know?"

"You are so perfect, and you are mine."

That hit me like a ton of bricks. I broke away from a confused San and my tears started to fall from my face. This was so wrong, what was I doing? But he felt so good with me...

"Baby doll, please don't cry," he pleaded.

"I can't do this," I started to try and get up. "Please get away from me..."

He releases a sigh and holds me in place. "Listen to me," his voice held an edge to it. I turned my head rebelliously and gasped when he held my jaw tightly and forced me to look at him. "Listen," he growled, eyes glazed in unparalleled anger.

I was having a small panic attack. "I just need a moment---"

San slapped my already aching jaw with a force enough for me to get out of it, but not enough for me to bawl in pain. "Listen to me," he snapped. "Silence. Not a sound from you."

I nodded my head quickly, afraid. "If you resist, I will punish you," he threatened. "And you know how I'm going to do it?"

I held in a whimper, truly afraid since San had this crazed manic expression on his face that I've never, ever seen him have. "Well," he smirked. "Let's hope you don't find out."

He gets up and quickly drags me using my arms to straddle him. "Wrap your hands around me," he demanded.

I did as asked and he grabbed my hips to immobilize me. San looked up at me with such intensity and I can't help but look away. I felt exposed and humiliated and I couldn't help but let out a small moan when I felt his hardness twitch underneath me.

"What was that?" he mocked. "What did I tell you about making a sound, you whore?"

I breathed hard and heavy, my exposed breasts moving about, but I didn't answer him back, scared that my response would trigger him.

"Answer me," he demanded.

"P-Punish," I stuttered pathetically.

"Correct," San grinned and it resembled a rabid animal who was ready to pounce on its unsuspecting victim. "Little sluts like you need to be dominated."

I was wide-eyed when he grabbed my hair and manually moved my head up and down. "That's right," he laughed sadistically. "Good girl."

San leaned in and put his lips against mine in a rough kiss. When I refused, he pulled the back of my hair again until I gasped in pain. His tongue plunged inside my mouth and I tried to turn but he painfully pulled my hair again as he moved away slightly.

"Stop it," he whispered against my lips. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He pushed my head and he kissed me again, this time, more gentle and more considerate. I tried to see what he was going to do if I moved, and true to my suspicions, I felt his hand tightening against my hair again.

Having no choice, I gave in to what he wanted. San groaned in my mouth and pressed his harder, playing with my tongue sensually as he massaged my tits. My skin began to feel warm and my heart began to beat faster and faster and I was pretty sure he felt it. Or was that his own heart beating with mine?

When San touched my cheek with frenzied motions, I hissed and I couldn't help but moan in protest. He pulled back and tenderly touched my face where a bruise was forming.

"What happened?" he asked softly. "Was it..?"

I quickly shook my head. "No, I-I mean, well, I barely felt the slap and you didn't even do it hard."

It was true. I don't mean to defend his actions, he's an asshole for that but even in a haze, I felt him repressing and it was only meant to break my panic attack.

"I'm sorry, doll, please tell me what happened," San murmured apologetically, his words somewhat loving.

I hesitated but the look in his eyes was so soft that I just had to. It was the gentle San that everyone knew him for when everyone would ask for his advice and wisdom. I bit my lip, remembering that there was a time where I almost went to him.

"Earlier in the car," I began muttering. "I didn't meet up with friends, I-I, uhm..."

"Go on," San assured me, tenderly rubbing my arms.

"I didn't meet up with my friends like I said I did," I revealed. "My ex called to try and get back with me. He got handsy when I-I said no."

His hands tighten on my arms and his eyes transform into a murderous glare. He pulls me into a hug and pulls away. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he cursed under his breath intensely.

"And you," he continued, putting my face in his hands. "You will never, ever interact with him ever again. You're going to tell me if he bothers you again, okay?"

I nodded apprehensively, unsure of what to say. "Good," San kissed my forehead. I bit back a cry of surprise when he laid me down on the bed and started to crawl his way down.

"W-Wait, what are you doing?" I panicked when he lifted the other half of my nightgown and lifted my legs to rest on his shoulders.

"I'm going to make you forget about that scum," he declared like he was telling me the weather. "Until you only know me."

I was still confused as he hadn't taken his boxers off, that is, until I finally got a good look at him. He was handsome, the type that can bring you to your knees. His dark hair was disheveled and when my eyes traveled down to his chest, I wasn't surprised to see that he was fit and the muscles on his abdominal area were very prominent.

The arms he used to leave my legs up were massive and I can tell he spent a lot on the gym working them out. However, it was nothing compared to the tent he had on his boxers. I'm not one to usually comment on it, but I can tell he was big. It's super cliche and honestly, it made me cringe to even think about, but I've only heard of that size in the novels I read.

"You look so beautiful," he suddenly said. His stare was so intense and serious that I couldn't help but blush. "I mean it, Y/N. You're beautiful. I'm going to make you believe it."

Before I could say anything, I felt his fingers touch my slit. I bit my lip to stop the moan that threatened to pass my lips, but when San pressed on my clit, I had to let out a muffled mewl.

"Don't hold back on me now," he smirked, rubbing my nub gently at first. "I told you, you will forget everything but me."

My eyes widened when he licked his fingers and went back down there. The roughness of fingers added a new sensation I never thought I'd feel and it was bringing me such shame that I was even feeling this way.

"San, please," I mewled again when he added more pressure in his ministrations.

Suddenly, his fingers were gone and it was quickly replaced by his mouth. "San!" I screamed in surprise.

I felt him laugh and the vibration of it caused me to arch my back and accidentally rub myself in his mouth. San took advantage of this and dove his tongue between my folds, lapping at anything he could get his tongue on.

"Just like that, doll, " he spoke in between his licking and sucking.

I moaned loudly, my hands grabbing on the blankets in pleasure. He kissed my clit and gently suctioned on it, releasing it and doing it again and that tingling sensation from down there came back, but this one felt different; stronger.

"San, stop, it feels weird," I moaned and sighed, closing my eyes involuntarily and shaking a bit against San's mouth.

"Quiet," he murmured, ignoring my plea and continuing on.

I choked on my breath when I felt his finger slip inside my pussy while he still licked. It hurt a bit, but nothing crazy. He pushed deeper and farther, until he stopped unexpectedly and quickly got up to look at my face with the most shocked expression I've ever seen him have.

"You're a virgin," he reeled in disbelief. "You're a virgin?"

I looked at him wide-eyed, embarrassed. My breath was quicker and it made me breathless. "I am," I admitted.

"B-But how? You're so beautiful," he stammered, clearly still in shock.

"I-I've been waiting for the right person."

He closed my legs, leaned his forehead on my knees, and a deep groan that was similar to a suffering soldier sounded at the back of his throat. He laid there for a moment until he got up from the bed and paced around my room.

I was left laying down on the bed as I watched him go through something akin to a midlife crisis. My virginity was the reason why my ex left me and why nobody stayed with me. I wanted someone true, someone I was sure I wanted to be with and vice versa.

San briskly walked around, stopping to face palm himself, then stayed in his spot to raise his head in frustration. He collected himself before he marched towards me with a stormy expression.

He leaned down and gave me a chaste kiss on my forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled away and walked off to where his clothes were and started putting them on.

His gaze was steely when he looked at me. "I'm leaving," he said, voice tight.

I sat up slowly as I watched him put his sweater last and then his jewelry, a little surprised at the turn of events. "You are?" I couldn't help but ask, slightly confused.

San nodded. "I am."

I wasn't complaining at all. This was a blessing in disguise. "I don't get it," I said as I covered my exposed chest with a blanket. "Why now?"

San exhaled a sharp breath, barely controlling himself. He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and he opened them again, he looked so tortured.

"Y/N, I cannot touch you," he whispered. "I want you so fucking bad. I don't just want you. I need you."

I couldn't breath, my chest was so tight. He exhaled a sharp breath again. "I won't be able to stop myself right now if I don't leave. I want to fuck you so bad, stick my dick in you and fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name."

"But not like this," he shook his head. "I don't want your first to be like this. I don't want to hurt you."

I was so stunned at his admission. "So we're...done here?" I asked softly, unsure of what was even happening.

"Yes. We are."

"What now, then? What's going to happen after this?"

San paused. "I don't know. I'll live my life, and you'll go back to ignoring me."

"Alright," I whispered. I was trembling as I tried to mend the straps of my nightgown enough for me to wear it temporarily so I wasn't too exposed in front of San. Not that it mattered, he's seen everything.

I stood up from my bed and San headed through the door to leave when he suddenly paused. He turned around and faced me hesitantly. "Have a good night," he said.

I nodded and turned to look at the damaged window where he came through earlier to break in my room. "How am I supposed to fix this?" I lamented.

He turned and marched towards the window and inspected it closely. I stared at the way he furrowed and unfurrowed his brows in concentration.

He stared me down and back at the window and he definitely got snappy. "I'll pay somebody to fix it tomorrow," he announced tensely.

"Why are you mad?" I asked.

He raised a brow. "I'm not," he denied.

I frowned but I let it go. "There's going to be a storm tomorrow," I sighed. "Nobody in their right mind will come down tomorrow."

"Can you call your parents right now?" San asked gruffly.

I shook my head. "They live abroad."

His brows raise in surprise and curiosity but he doesn't dwell on it. "Friends?"

"I didn't lie when I said they lived in the next city."

He ran his fingers on his hair with annoyance, his tongue poking his cheek with a scowl. "Doll, you can't stay here."

I smiled without humour in irony. I wanted to tell him that technically, this problem I'm having right now is his fault but I don't. I'm too tired to argue.

I heard him sigh. "Get dressed," he said. "I have tools in my apartment that we can both grab so I can do it today, myself."

"Okay," I murmured.

San nodded. "I'll wait outside."

When I was done, I saw San leaning towards my doorway and I had to suppress staring at him. He looked good, but he looked aggravated when he saw me, and he reached down for my hand and he began walking us through the complex.

I breathlessly tried to keep up with him. This is going to be the first time I'm seeing where San's apartment is. His hand felt warm in mine and without pausing, he walked both of us to the furthest part of the complex.

"No wonder we barely saw each other," I couldn't help but state. "You live on the other side."

He didn't reply. He took one glance at me and continued walking. I followed him obediently without question.

I had an idea where he was leading me. The complex was split into three parts - the regular kind, the modernized kind, and the luxurious kind. I lived on the second one, and true to my suspicions, San lived on the third kind.

"You live here?" I asked in awe.

I was so fascinated with this area and the fact that San was known to everybody. People here barely interact with anybody, that would mean that San would go out of his way to go join and seek out the people in the regular part.

I was so taken aback by my own thoughts that I didn't realize that we were by his door.

"Yes, almost two years now," he replied flatly. "After you."

Unsurprisingly, the interior looked grand and deluxe, albeit a little empty. It made sense, San seemed like a minimalist person and it showed both in how he dressed and designed his home.

He tilted his head towards a door at the end of the hallway. "Tools should be over there," he said, not looking me in the eye. "Let's go."

It was obvious that this was his bedroom when we both went in. The room was large, there was a king sized bed in the middle of it and a couple of pictures hung all over the area. I went and inspected them closely and saw that he was with a couple of people.

"Family?" I asked.

He hummed in response while he took his suit off and hung them somewhere. "Sort of. They're lifelong friends."

He stepped towards the bedroom door, closed it slowly, and turned the lock before he faced me. I was confused, when he looked at me, his eyes were the darkest I have ever seen.

"Get on the bed," he commanded. "I'm going to fuck you."

I didn't fully understand what he said. I thought I heard him wrong, but he was dead serious. "W-What?"

His eyes never left me as he stalked towards me like a predator. "I said," his tone was grim. "Get on the bed."

My eyes widened and the wind was knocked out of my chest. "B-But you said you weren't going to touch me," I whimpered.

"I know what I said," he snapped, his jaw clenching hard. "I'm taking it back."

San stepped forward and stopped a couple of feet away from me. I stared at him wary and not knowing what to do. I'm sure my eyes held terror. "Don't do this," I pleaded.

I yelped when San pushed me on the bed. He stood by it and watched me scramble to get up. I was truly frightened at the person in front of me. He leaned over and placed his hands on the bed while he stared at me.

"You don't get it do you?" San grimaced. "There are no tools. At least, not in my bedroom."

My eyes widened in realization. His eyes narrowed in veiled anger as he continued. "Why would you come here with me? I broke into your apartment and almost took you against your will! Do I look like the safest person to be with right now?"

My chest fell and ragged breaths escaped me, but he wasn't done yet. "Don't you think with your brain?" San hissed. "You are at my mercy right now. If I want to take you, no one would know."

"Are you going to...?" I whispered.

His scowl deepened. "Yes."

It all happened too fast and I had no time to dispute him. My shirt and pants were off in less than a minute and he slammed me against the bed.

"San, wait---"

I gasped when he slid a finger inside me quickly and I was unable to stop the small whimper of pleasure I felt. That felt a little too good. I didn't even notice that his clothes were gone too, and I couldn't help but look down.

My suspicions were unfortunately right - he was not small. And he was hard. I may be a virgin, but of course I knew what dicks looked like. It was very imposing, it made my heart beat with hesitation and a little fear.

I tensed when he got on top of me and I felt him kiss my forehead softly. "I'm sorry," I heard him whisper.

I subconsciously pressed my fingers on his shoulder, trying hard not to look up at him or even inhale. The scent of him, alone, was driving me mad. I felt him hot and hard, pressing against my hole, and he thrust in bit by bit.

"Oh God, San, I can't," I cried out. The pain was so intense that it brought hot tears to my eyes. I heard him groan when I clawed his back.

"I'm sorry, I'll be careful," San cooed as he gave me tiny, little kisses here and there.

A strangled cry was torn from me when I felt him move again. His pleasure filled moans hit my ears, the vibrations from his chest sending tingles to my spine. "San..."

"Just a bit more, baby," he whispered. "You can take it, I know you can..."

He made small, gentle thrusts and I couldn't help but applaud the patience he had for this. I can feel how he was dying to just thrust in one go. I groaned again, fully wrapping my arms around his neck, in pain. I knew it was painful for the first time, but this pain was a bit too much.

"Fuck," he hissed, looking down at me with lust in his eyes. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

I nodded and he took it as his signal to push in a little more. When he completely bottomed out, I couldn't help but moan loudly. The pain felt like the good kind.

"Oh fuck," he groaned. "Your cunt was made for me."

He pressed a hot kiss on my shoulder. The dirty talk was making me dizzy and I felt warm tingles spread all over my skin. San stayed inside me, unmoving, for a while and we decided I've warmed up enough, he began thrusting.

"San, it hurts," I yelped in slight pain. If I was being honest, it felt unbelievably good.

"Just take it for now, baby, it's going to feel better soon, I promise," he pecked my lips before he buried head on my shoulders.

And he was right. I swallowed a moan when San began to pick up the pace a bit. I didn't realize that I was moving my hips to his pace until I heard San whisper the dirtiest things in my ear.

"Y/N, fuck, Y/N, Y/N," San moaned my name like a prayer with each vicious thrust of his hips. "Doll, please tell me I can go faster than this, please."

I moaned in response, not being able to formulate a single word. San goes from fully gentle to straight up rearranging my insides. "San, San, t-too fast!"

Each thrust of his cock sent shockwaves through my body and it didn't take too long for my laboured breathing to turn into wanton moans with the way he went in and out with his quick rhythm. I felt him twitching, pulsating, inside of me and I squeezed.

"Don't do that, baby," San groaned. "God, you feel so fucking good…”

He pushed onto me and took my mouth in a stormy, demanding kiss. I felt his hand reaching from my hip to my front and his fingers pressed up to my clit.

"You like this, doll?" San asked tentatively.

I nodded my head and kissed his neck. "I do, don't stop."

His fingers stroke me, his thrusts not slowing down. Tears from the slight pain and pleasure combined fell from my eyes and his speed built back up, slamming into me so hard, I screamed loudly over and over again.

"Just like, Y/N, come, yes, come for me," San bit my shoulder and it was over.

It was my first orgasm from fucking and my body spasmed against him so hard, San had to hold me down.

"Fuck, oh fuck, you feel so fucking good," San's muffled moans felt intense against my skin. "You're mine, okay?"

"S-San, oh, San---"

I screamed when he grabbed my hair and bit my ear. "Say it," he growled. "Say you're fucking mine."

"San---"

"Say it, goddamn it, fucking say it!"

His thrusts got more brutal, ferocious, more ruthless. "Okay, okay!" I moaned. "I'm all yours!"

"Fuck," he got out and thrusted back in roughly. I saw stars then and there. "You're mine, you're mine, fuck.”

His thrust went even faster than before, the bed was squeaking very loud, and the slapping of skin against skin more obscene than before. It was agonizing as I was still sensitive and I felt another wave of pleasure come, but this time, there was no pain.

"S-San, f-fuck, I-I can't---"

"I want my cum in you," he abruptly cut off, slamming into me so hard I was afraid I would bruise just from his thrusts alone. "God, I want my fucking cum in you."

"Please," I cried. "I-I can't do this anymore---"

He shushed me gently, slowing his thrusts down, but it was worse because he was doing long, deep thrusts instead. "One more, baby," he murmured. "Give me one more and I'll stop."

He kissed me hard. "I'm going to fucking pump you full of cum, doll, I'm going to breed the fuck out of you, fuck, this body deserves to be filled up..."

His words did something to me and I just came without warning. I screamed, my body shaking, shuddering beneath him. I felt warm liquid gush inside me and San's deep groans hit my ears and it felt more intense than the last.

"Good girl," San gave me a hot kiss on my neck and I shuddered.

I moaned when he pulled out, though it stung a bit. I felt his fingers dip back in there and when he put it up, we both groaned at the sight of his cum glistening and stringy against the light.

"Open up," he murmured. I hesitated but did as told anyway.

He put his cum-stained fingers inside my mouth and I grimaced at the salty, bitter taste. "I don't like it," I complained.

San laughed out loud and crashed on top of me, exhausted. I almost fell asleep when I felt him get up and leave the room. It hit me of what I have just done, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

I groaned in protest when I felt something cold and wet down there and I opened my eyes to see it was San concentrating on cleaning me up like he was getting paid to do it with a damp towel gently and slowly.

"Thanks," I murmured. "I...should get going."

He stares at me, all traces of roughness, maliciousness, and sociopathy gone on his face. He looked like the San I'd come to admire from afar before all of this happened.

He titled his head. "Why?"

I frowned. "Isn't this customary? I'm not sure if you want me to stay. People will see, it's already morning."

"Let them see," he shrugged. "Of course I want you to stay. Plus, it's not like it's much of a secret, anyway."

That piqued my curiosity and all traces of sleep went away. "What do you mean?"

He finished cleaning me up, discarded the towel in the nearest bin, and tucked my legs back in the softest, most comfortable blanket I've ever laid down on. It probably cost more than my whole bed set.

I blushed when he smiled at me. It wasn't a fake or imposing one - it was genuine. "I'll be right back, okay? Then we'll talk."

True to his words, he went back, but this time, he had a glass full of water and two shirts. He guided me up to sit down and brought the glass to my mouth, the only thing I had to do was make an effort to swallow. I had to suppress a satisfied moan when the water hit the back of my throat. All the screaming before and after sex...

"Arms up," he coaxed. I was confused but did so anyway. He put what I assume was his shirt on me, and then put the other shirt on his own body.

I let him do what he wanted, the resistance felt so tiring to me. This was the man that violated me in every way possible, yet why do I feel this pull towards him?

I already knew the answer - there was always something there. Now that he had taken my virginity, the pull has increased tenfold, and the way he was so sweet to me was a mystery on its own.

"So, how many?" I asked when he laid down next to me and put my head against his chest.

"How many what?" San asked.

"You know," I gestured between the two of us. "How many girls have you done this to?"

I was referring to the break in. He frowned and shook his head. "I am deeply offended, but I understand so I can't be mad. The answer is zero."

"You expect me to believe that?" I deadpanned. "You were an expert in being a criminal."

"It's not that," he sighed. "I can't count the times I stayed awake in this very bed and pretended you were mine. That was enough practice on its own."

He kissed the top of my head. "And I told you," he continued. "It's not a secret."

"What do you mean, San?"

"I wasn't subtle about it, everyone literally knew I liked you," he chuckled. "No offense doll, but you're dense as fuck."

"Funny," I muttered, unimpressed.

San laughed. "No, seriously. I did everything to try and get your attention, I sent flowers to your doorstep every Friday, for God's sake."

My eyes widen and I look up at him. "That...was you?"

"Who did you think it was?"

I paused, hesitant, remembering his words earlier. "M-My ex..."

It was the reason why I even met up with him in the first place. I thought he was trying to win me back using his cheap ways. San stared at me, and I could see the anger slowly rising in his eyes, but alas, in the end he ignored it, thankfully.

"Hmm," he hummed. "If he tries something, tell me. I'm not just saying this just because of what happened between us, but as a human being concerned for another's well-being. What he did was wrong."

I nodded. That seemed fair for now. I tried to suppress the blush that was threatening to flare my cheeks up. His words make it difficult for me to hate him, for now.

"Having said that," he cleared his throat. "I tried to chauffeur you too, at the bus station."

"And I meant it when I said I didn't want to impose," I mumbled.

"The point is, anyone with two eyes can see it, doll. I always seeked you out of everyone," he sighed.

He cupped my face in his hands and looked straight into my eye. "I know you have feelings for me, and it's driving me crazy that you haven't realized it yet. I'm sorry it had to be this way."

"But what you did was wrong," I frowned, putting my small hands on his to push him away so he wouldn't see how distraught I was because he was telling the truth. "Just because I'm not putting up a fight, doesn't mean I'm happy. Why did you do it?"

San looked so crestfallen and I hesitated for a bit. "I...don't know," he admitted. "I'm so, so sorry, doll. Please don't push me away."

"You don't even know anything about me besides the basics" I sighed.

Held my hand tenderly. "Then let's try now," he smiled tightly, hopefully. "You said your parents were abroad, where?"

I stared at him, giving in eventually. "Yes. In London," I replied tentatively. It was a lie, but he won't know.

"Ah. Migrants?"

"No, I laughed a bit. "I was actually born there."

"So you have that accent?" San teased.

"Maybe, you tell me," I said with the said accent.

I reveled in his surprised face. "So why are you here, then?" San asked, genuinely interested.

"We went here for a vacation but I fell in love being here and yeah, I stayed," I chuckled. "It's probably why I caught your eye, because I moved differently."

San shook his head at me. "No," he said. "You would've caught my eye, regardless, United Kingdom or not."

He hesitated, pausing. "I know you're lying."

It was my turn to be surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Why you're here," he said. I was about to say something when he cut me off. "It's okay, you can tell me when you're ready."

I smiled at him. "Maybe one day."

"I'm just a little concerned about the age gap for now," he confessed. "And I know you are too."

"It's not that," I clarified. "Someone your age would prefer looking for someone your age, not someone ten years younger."

"Does it bother you?" San raised a brow.

"No, not in the slightest," I replied truthfully.

For the first time after we were done, San gave me a genuine smile. It was the type that reached his eyes; the type that reached a part of my heart I've been denying.

The next day, I woke up alone in San's bed on what seemed to be in the middle of the afternoon.

I couldn't suppress a hiss when I sat up. Besides my pussy, my entire body felt sore. I'm not surprised, we literally went straight into it. It made me realize that I was so out of shape and I needed to catch up.

When I felt the side of the bed, it was still relatively warm. San must've gotten up half an hour before me.

Which wasn't a bad thing. Now that I'm alone in my thoughts, I can focus on thinking about what to do from here not just for me and San, but for myself without him. I couldn't deny that the sex was mind blowing, but I had basically forfeited any real chance I had to erase myself from San's life and vice versa.

Giving in was a no-brainer. No matter how hard I tried, I knew all my efforts would have been proven futile in the grand scheme of things. I screwed myself up, however. And now, I want more.

After some more thinking, I decided to get up and talk to San. I put back on my underwear but I didn't bother wearing some pants, and San's shirt was large anyway. I just have to be careful not to bend over.

I was instantly hit with the smell of food when I got close to the kitchen, after much exploring, and my stomach began to rumble uncontrollably.

San was sitting by the kitchen island drinking a cup of coffee. He typed away on his laptop with furrowed brows. I watched the man I spent the night with - he wore a black shirt paired with black jeans yet he still managed to look good.

My heart palpitated when I realized he was wearing a pair of glasses. I've never seen him wear glasses before. He looked sophisticated, more chic, more attractive.

"Working?" I said out loud when he still didn't notice me.

San finally lifted his head up to look at me and his eyes slightly widen. I suddenly felt self-conscious when he started slowly taking in body slowly from head to toe until his eyes reached my face. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped.

"Morning, well, afternoon," he snapped out of his trance. "Come sit. I ordered some food for us."

"This is a lot," I murmured when I sat down and tried to pick what I was going to eat. "Why did you order this much?"

"I didn't know what you wanted," he shrugged. "And I didn't want to wake you up to ask, better safe than sorry. Coffee?"

I nodded awkwardly. It was harder to be normal around him than I thought. San seemingly wasn't affected at all - he was still the confident, undaunting, self-assured, and bold man I knew who I was always careful with even before all of this.

He sat back down on his chair. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Yes."

"That's good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I cringed at how awkward I was acting. Not that I wasn't before, but I was more so now that we've far more things that normal acquaintances do. San smirked widely at my predicament, clearly enjoying the effect he has on me.

"I'm leaving in an hour," he said. "Something came up at work, but I'll be back before sunset."

He looked at me to gauge my reaction. "I would like it if you were still here when I come back, I'll take you out to dinner. If not, I understand."

I had to stop the urge to smirk, myself. Wasn't dinner supposed to come first before the sex? This is going nowhere, I thought. It's either I talk to him now or I won't do it all. It was now or never.

"Uh, San," I cleared my throat. He looked at me expectantly and I almost backed out. "Can I talk to you?"

All the humour and mirth disappeared from his face and he became so rigid and tense right before my very eyes as if knew what I was going to say. In hindsight, we both knew he did.

"Okay," he mumbled.

I took a deep breath and laid it all out on him. "You don't need me to tell you again that taking me against my will whether or not we had sex was wrong."

San listened attentively. "You hurt my feelings," I croaked, my appetite suddenly going down. "You violated me, you couldn't approach me like a normal person? You could have knocked on my door."

Tears started to fall from my eyes but San looked twice as hurt as I did, if that was even possible. "Doll, please," he pleaded, reaching out to hold my hand but I didn't let him. He looked even more hurt. "I'm sorry, please don't say you're going to leave--"

"San, 'sorry' isn't going to cut it," I interjected rather harshly. "They way you went about this was so, so wrong. What were you even thinking?"

He didn't say anything for a while. "I don't know."

I saw red. "You don't know?" I scoffed. "What do you know?! Which one is the real San?"

"I know that my feelings for you are very, very strong," he answered without any hint of deception in his eyes. "You know who I am, Y/N."

"I wouldn't say that, you genuinely scared me last night."

He sighed before burying his face in his hands and groaning softly in frustration. "I know," he whispered. "I'm sorry, my doll, I'm so, so sorry. I truly am. I don't want to lose you, not like this."

When he looked up at me again, I held back a gasp of surprise when I saw his eyes glistening with tears. "I was wrong, I know I'm a piece of shit," he sniffled. "I'm sorry for scaring you, you were right, I was sick in the head. I don't know why I did what I did, and I have absolutely no excuses for it."

I felt limp and San took that opportunity to hold my hand in his and repeatedly kissed it and my heart ached. I felt lighter though, I know the apology was shit compared to what I went through, but the acknowledgement was much appreciated on my side.

"I'll make it up to you, okay?" San guaranteed. "You said you were waiting for the right person?"

He gave my hand another hot kiss. "I'm going to prove I'm the right person for you, Y/N, I promise you," he assured with desperation. "Even if it takes a lifetime, please baby, just one chance..."

Call me a bitch, but I intended to make him stew a little bit.

"One chance, San, just one," I whispered. "If you screw up, I'm going back to London."

I won't go back to London though, that was the last place I'd go, but it was just a just-in-case type of a thing if he does screw up.

San buried his face in my hand in an attempt to cover the silent cry he was pouring out of his system. "Thank you," he whispered. "Can I hug you?"

I shook my head firmly. "No," I denied. "You don't deserve anything."

San pouted, and damn it, it was cute. "Okay."

He wasn't the only one screwed anyway - I may honestly be more screwed than him. I've liked him for so long but I was always afraid that he wouldn't look at me. When he found out I was a virgin and he stopped, I fell for him a bit more. If only he didn't fuck me afterwards.

The fault wasn't his own though. I didn't push him away. For now, it was better this way so I can gauge his sincerity, especially about why I wasn't in London in the first place.

A couple of months passed since that fateful night, and true to his words, San did everything and anything possible to get into my good side.

We were the talk of the whole complex. San wasn't exactly the most private person when he was trying to show his affection. It was uncomfortable since the whole complex seemed to cheer when they found out San was trying to woo me, but I slowly got used to it.

Sometimes I would even look forward to it. I do feel a little bad sometimes because maybe I was power-tripping a little bit but the tiniest complaint from me and San would get into action.

"How was your meeting?" I asked when he entered my apartment.

He sat down on the couch with a heavy sigh. "Terrible," he groaned. "Bastards are trying to haggle from us with at least 30% of the original price. It's ridiculous."

I never denied him of time either. I knew I liked him so it wasn't difficult at all for me, so we would hang out at each other's places, though more him in mine than vice versa.

We were in an odd spot, we were technically together but not at the same time because we never got intimate or held hands or kissed. Not ever since that night.

"So what did you do?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Oh. I said yes."

I raised a brow in surprise. "You did? That's a huge percentage, San. "

"Don't worry," he brushed off with a smirk. "You know me, doll, I always have to get something in return. Wait here."

He went outside again and he was gone for approximately half an hour before he came back again, this time, he was carrying a box.

"What's that?" I asked out of curiosity when he set it down at the dining table.

"It's for you, my doll," he smiled. "Open it."

I hesitated, staring at him apprehensively, to which he laughed. "Seriously," San insisted. "You'll like it, I promise, there's no bugs in there or something."

I picked it up and turned it slightly. It was a lot heavier than I thought. I raised my eye to San, and he had this look that was a mixture of pride and fear of rejection. Carefully, I lifted the covers of the box and was surprised at what I saw.

"Yubari King!" I exclaimed in genuine surprise. I looked up at San and he beamed ear to ear at my expression. "San? How?"

"That 30% I was talking about earlier, I exchanged it for these babies," he carefully tapped the expensive melon. "Our client had Japanese connections, you'll get more of these soon."

When San asked if he could get me something, I mentioned these in passing because I know they were extremely difficult to find in Korea and are on the expensive side as well.

"Y-You didn't have to," I said, feeling extra guilty.

"I told you," he smiled, grabbing my hand to kiss me. "I meant it when I said I'll do anything for you."

"Thank you, San, I really appreciate it," I murmured, giving him a small hug. "You're going overboard, I'm telling you."

"I'm really not," he teased. "How about you slice that for us? I kinda wanna try it."

And that I did. The moment I bit into it, I couldn't help but moan out in satisfaction. It was so crunchy, the middle of it the sweetest I have ever tried, and it really put it into perspective why these were very expensive.

"Holy fuck," San exclaimed. "I can't believe this actually tastes good."

"What were you expecting anyway?" I teased.

"I was hoping they'd taste like shit so I couldn't justify the price," he rolled his eyes playfully.

"So thanks to you, we're eating good shit," I chuckled.

"Yeah?" San smiled. "Would it be possible to get a kiss, at least?"

I froze, my arms and legs becoming a bit rigid. San notices and visibly panics. "No, I'm sorry--"

"We agreed that I was going to do this on my own time?" I was frowning, trying very hard to keep my voice leveled, but I was shaking a bit. I put the last slice of the melon and chewed on it rather roughly.

"You're right, baby---"

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

San deflated, looking visibly upset. I felt so bad, but I can't help the way I felt. "Sorry," he whispered.

This wouldn't be the first time I had snapped at him. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I wasn't ready for any sort of intimacy with him even though I did want to give him a chance. Maybe it was the small trauma he inflicted.

Deep down, I knew it was because I was scared that once I let him in, he would stop because maybe he only wanted me for the thrill I gave him and my body.

"I'm going to take a nap," I sighed as I got up from the couch and tried to head to my room.

"Ba--Y/N, please, please, I didn't mean to make you mad," San pleaded. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

"San, I don't know, go pick some four-leaf clovers, or something," I spat, finally closing the door behind me.

When I laid down on my bed, I felt a bit lonely and cold. Today, San was supposed to sleep here. Yeah, for people not dating, we would sleep in the same bed. It was my sick way of dealing with my bad memories of him; so I can replace them with good ones.

At the far corner of my room, my eyes landed on the bouquet of the most beautiful jasmines I have been taking care of for weeks now. My eyes teared up, San gave them to me and I was floored. They were very rare where we lived.

I hit an all time low depressive state today. It had been two weeks since San and I started trying for each other and a week since I last saw even his shadow.

Oh, I was pissed alright.

I sighed, I suppose I was right in not giving him a full chance because where was he? He literally disappeared, it was infuriating. It was one thing if he talked to me before and after, but no, absolutely nothing.

But behind all that anger, was sadness. I thought we were going to have something real despite the horrible start we had.

I sighed deeply and was about to go to my room and try to sleep everything out, but my doorbell suddenly rang. I was confused, I wasn't expecting anyone.

My eyes widened. Unless it was my parents. I got nervous, I wasn't ready to face them yet after running away.

I took a deep breath and opened the door, only to be face to face with someone I thought I'd never see again.

"San?"

He thrusted a bouquet of flowers in my hand. "Hi," he whispered.

"What the hell, Choi San?" I gritted my teeth. "You disappeared for a week without telling me where you were! I thought you left for good!"

"I'm sorry, doll, I really am," he frowned. "I didn't have service in Virginia."

"Virginia?" I raised my brow in genuine surprise. "What on God's green Earth were do you doing there?"

He smiled widely, looking proud of himself. "I bought you your favourite flowers."

"What are you talking about? Those are---oh my God," I gasped audibly when I took a good look at the bouquet.

They were blue jasmines, a very uncommon species of flowers mostly found in the United States. My eyes started to tear up. "San," my lips quivered.

"I'm sorry I took so long, but you deserve the best," he assured, his smile growing bigger. "I told you I'd do anything for you."

I woke up all of a sudden, the pitter-patter of the rain hitting my windowsill loudly interrupting my nap. Suddenly, my mind went to San immediately.

I went out of my room to check if he was still here. I felt horrible for snapping at him and I intended to apologize. I was confused when I didn't see him because his jacket and phone were both still here.

"San?" I called out of nowhere while I tried to look at every nook and cranny in my room, but he was nowhere to be found.

I decided to go in my small backyard, knowing San wouldn't be there anyway, but my feet took me to my destination in my half asleep state.

I was about to leave after looking around, but my head quickly whipped back around to do a double-take. My jaw dropped instantly, I was wrong, San was here.

"Oh God," I whispered, horrified.

There he was, the big and strong man kneeling down the soaked grass searching for something in a way so concentrated, you would think he was looking for gold underneath the soil.

He was looking for a four-leaf clover. What have I done?

Without thinking, I quickly ran towards him in the pouring rain, not caring if I wasn't wearing any slippers or carrying an umbrella, I just wanted to get him out of there.

"San, you idiot!" I screamed in frustration, quickly kneeling beside him to try and get him up. "Stop it!"

He was startled at first. "Doll, you're going to get sick," he frowned. "Go inside, I'm sorry I can't find any---"

"Forget it, I didn't mean it like that, please," I begged in exasperation. "I don't want you to get sick!"

We both stood in the middle of the grassy yard, not caring if the rain hit us. "You care about me?" San asked quietly.

"Of course I care about you!" I exclaimed, stomping my feet on the ground as if it would help me explain my thoughts. "I care about you a lot, you dummy."

He revealed a dimpled smile - a smile that was only reserved for me. "I'm glad," he spoke, grabbing me by the arm, then the head, and then leaned in to give me a kiss.

I kissed him back with equal desperation. It was everything I needed right now and the sparks that traveled through our bodies were intensifying the unspoken feelings between the two of us. Yeah, intense would be the word I'd use.

Before we both knew it, our clothes were gone and we were a mess trying to have each other on my bed, not caring if we were both wet from the rain. It might sound ridiculous, but there was no other way to describe what we were doing but making love.

"This is something you want, right?" San asked. "You'll have me, and you're going to want me to have you."

"More than anything in the world," I replied.

"Y/N, I mean it," he kissed my lips. "I want all of you, not just your body."

"Show me," I whispered.

All our pretense and doubt went out and the world melted away into nothing. Everything was raw and intense, every breath fast and both our hearts were finally becoming into one. This was only our second time being this intimate, and maybe I was delusional, but this one felt better than the first. Maybe because I had feelings for San this time. Everything happened as quickly as it started.

"I won't let you down," San murmured, hugging me and giving me a tender kiss on my forehead once everything was said and done. "My feelings for you are deep."

"As mine are," I tilted my head to meet his lips. "Just don't break through my window again."

San laughed loudly. "I won't," he turned to the window he fixed up quite well. "On one condition."

"The audacity," I playfully rolled my eyes. "What is it?"

"Be my girlfriend?"

I frowned. "I thought that was a given?"

"Oh," he shrugged. "I wanted to ask anyway. Is that a yes?"

I nodded and was about to say something witty to him, when my phone rang loudly in the background. Without thinking nor looking at the screen, I answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Oh, Y/N, it's about time you answered," my dad's irritated voice sounded from the phone.

I yelped in surprise and stared at a curious San. "Ah, D-Dad, can I c-call you back in a minute or two?"

I hung up before my dad could even say no. I hit my forehead frustratedly with my fist while mentally how dumb I was.

"Doll? Is everything okay?" San asked, worried. "Why'd you hang up? This wouldn't be the first time either."

I peered at him cautiously. "You noticed, huh?"

"Is it related to why you don't want to go back to London?"

"Yes," I sighed. "I'll explain later, let's get dressed first."

I dressed hurriedly because knowing my father, he would call back if I was even a second or two late from the promised time. If San and I were going to be together, he needs to know why I'm here. It's just a shame that he had to find out this way.

"It's okay, doll, I'm here if anything," San assured while the phone rang. "Oh, he picked up."

I panicked a bit and positioned the front camera to my face and out of San's. "Dad!"

“I'm disappointed that my only daughter doesn't want to talk to me," my dad's face held a little sadness, but nothing crazy. "Mingi and mom say hi."

"Who's Mingi?" San hissed. He winced a bit when I kicked him on the leg.

"I'm sure my brother," I glared pointedly at San. "And mum is fine."

My dad rolled his eyes dramatically. I guess that's where I got

my bratty attitude from. "They'd be better if you came back home," he sighed dejectedly. "Next time you don't answer your phone, I'm cutting off your allowance."

"Dad..."

"I'm serious, Y/N, I'm getting old," he began to say, and I got nervous because I knew what he was about to say next. "If you could just give my friend's son a chance, you might make a connection with him."

San's gaze went from curious to immediately pissed. He gave me a flat look of annoyance. "Don't say a word," I mouthed silently at him.

"Dad, you know I want to be with someone I truly liked," I sighed exhaustedly. "And I want the relationship to be natural, not because we were matchmarked with one another."

"I didn't tell you to marry him on the spot, sweetie," he said with a frown. "I'm not going to force you, but all I ask is an initial meet up and see where it goes from there."

When I didn't answer, my dad continued his tirade. "And what do you do, you rebellious child? You run away when you know we can't reach you!"

I glanced at San with a tight smile and a mutual understanding passed between us. Now that the truth was out, San looked weary and I got extremely nervous.

"I've met him plenty of times, he's a great guy, Y/N. Very polite, intelligent, and easy on the eyes too."

"I'm sure he is, dad," I chuckled nervously when San glared hard at the phone. He glared at it so hard I'm surprised laser beams haven't shot out from his eyes yet.

"If only you gave him a chance," my dad hummed thoughtfully. "He's a bit older than you are, but I'm sure you'll be in good hands."

"You know I'm not into older men," I mumbled under my breath. San had the gall to look extremely offended.

I muted myself really quickly and lifted my phone up so my dad couldn't see my annoyed face. "I'm just making excuses, don't give that look," I hissed at San. He just rolled his eyes like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"He's not that old," another voice said from the background who wasn't my father. He must be out with his friends somewhere.

San raised a tentative brow and slowly sat up, but I ignored him. He can stew for all I care. It's cute that he's jealous but this wasn't the right time, my dad might ask me to separate with San and I wasn't ready to get heartbroken yet, especially since we just made up.

"Ah, that's my friend, Cheol," my dad said. "Actually, it's his son that we were hoping to pair you up with---"

"Give me that shit, I can't take this anymore," San hissed and roughly grabbed the phone from my hands. I was about to protest loudly but when he gave me that especially terrifying glare of his, I sat back down.

"Please don't say anything stupid," I pleaded.

He raised a brow and rolled his eyes. He's really pissed, oh my. He cleared his throat and positioned the front camera properly towards his face. My dad must be so confused right now.

"Sir," San started with the most polite, but firm voice I've ever heard him speak. Spoken like a true business. "I'm your daughter's boyfriend and with all due respect, I really like---dad?"

I was so startled at San's voice but apparently so was he. It was like he saw a ghost with how pale and how wide his eyes have become.

"San? San! Is that you?! Give me that real quick, Hyun Sok..."

I swiftly sat beside San so we were both in the camera. I was so surprised I couldn't even say a word. We heard quick shuffles from the other line and another man that looked just like San, but older, also had this shocked expression.

"That was your dad?" San looked at me.

"That was your dad?" I shot back.

"What are you doing in London, dad?" San managed to say despite the shock.

"Never mind me, son, what are you doing there?" his dad queried. I saw my dad shuffle in the camera and if it wasn't for the situation, I would have laughed at how priceless his shocked expression was.

"I knew that voice sounded familiar," San grumbled.

"Well, since it came to this," San sighed. He held my hand and brought it up to the camera for both our fathers to see. "Dad, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Doll, this is my father, Choi Jongcheol."

"Y/N? Is this true?" my dad inquired. I nodded in confirmation, afraid of his reaction, but instead me and San had the surprise of the lifetime when they started laughing loudly and chaotically.

"I gotta hand it to your son, Cheol, he sure gets the gold, know what I'm saying?"

"I taught him no less than that! Shit Sok, this was even better than we were hoping for!”

"Didn't even need to set them up for a dinner date, my God."

"Definitely went straight to dessert."

"Aye!"

"Okay," I spoke slowly and awkwardly. "Dad, what's going on?"

"Your boyfriend," he chuckled. "That's who I wanted you to meet a couple of years back!"

I was surprised, and so was San, with the new information. Now that I think about it, everything fit. The timeline of when San moved here, especially, and one time he did mention his father trying to set him up with someone but he also denied the offer.

"I thought you didn't want someone older?" my dad raised a brow mischievously.

"Some things change," I shrugged, trying hard to hide my blushing cheeks.

"How did you two meet?" Jongcheol asked curiously.

"You don't wanna know," San chuckled nervously. I blushed harder when he kissed my cheek in front of both our dads and both of them had this shit-eating grin on their faces.

"Well, we don't want to hold you guys," my dad said awkwardly and not making eye contact. I was confused until he said, "Your hair is messy, and San's shirt is on backwards."

I groaned in embarrassment and covered my face as I ducked away from the screen in order to save face. San chuckled softly at my demise.

"Well, be careful you two," San's dad teased and I heard my dad laughing in the background. "Use protection, Choi San, but not too much. We don't mind grandkids soon---"

"Dad! Ugh, so embarrassing!" San screamed and hung up.

He tossed the phone away somewhere on the bed as if it was the plague, itself. We both burst out laughing at the irony of the situation for ten minutes straight.

"Had I known it was you," I chuckled as I laid my head on his shoulder. "I'd have agreed immediately."

"We both didn't know, it's okay," San hummed. "We both ended up together anyway, didn't we?"

"True. The irony of it all, I can't believe this," I smiled. "Still, we could have met sooner."

"Sooner than that," he sighed. "Your brother has been trying to invite me to your house back then too. I just always said no because we were both busy trying to start the company."

I was startled. "You know my brother?"

I hadn't seen my brother, Mingi, for a while now. He was the reason why I was successful in moving here, though I never told him why. And my parents never told him either because I knew they didn't want to stress him out for his---

The realization hit me. Mingi was also ten years older than me, I was a happy accident, you see, and he was also trying to start a company with his friends here!

"Yes," San confirmed. "He's one of my best friends, didn't you see the photo by the doorway?"

I knew the photo he was referring to. It was the one that hung in his room, one of the very few decorations he had, that I was looking at where I thought it was his family at first and he said they were lifelong friends.

"I-I don't remember what it looked like," I admitted. San whipped out his phone and showed me the picture and my jaw hung open when I saw Mingi at the very top corner of the photo. "I've never seen Mingi with pink hair before, how was I supposed to know?!"

Needless to say, I was definitely going to call Mingi later. San laughed out loud at my expression and once again, we were laughing together.

"This fate thing is crazy," I giggled. "Do you regret anything?"

"Never," San shook his head. "I say we celebrate this new found information."

"And how do you propose we do that, Mr. Choi?" I teased.

I screamed when San got on top of me and he hovered over me with a playful smirk on his beautiful face. "I can think of a few ways," he pecked my lips. "What do you say?"

I giggled uncontrollably and nodded. We might not have started on the right track and some people might think I'm dumb for giving the man who forced me to his will a chance, but something tells me we're going to be fine.

By all means, San isn’t perfect and neither am I, but sometimes we need people who aren’t perfect to help us achieve what’s good for us, not what is right.

#ateez #ateez smut #kpop smut #san smut #san x reader #choi san #ateez hard hours #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez imagines

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yoursoulvisions · 2 months ago

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JUPITER IN THE ZODIAC SIGNS. PART 2

Jupiter in Libra

Jupiter in Libra represents a combination of Jupiter’s expansive and optimistic influence with the balance, beauty, and harmony of Libra. Natives with this placement generally strive for justice, diplomacy, and peaceful conflict resolution. They can be very charming and capable of persuading others due to their gift of communication. Jupiter’s positive traits, such as generosity, optimism, and a philosophical approach to life, are transformed under the influence of Libra’s sense of aesthetics and empathy, making natives harmonious and purposeful in their search for equilibrium. Unfortunately, the pursuit of balance can sometimes lead to indecisiveness and difficulty in making decisions. This also applies to the pursuit of harmony, as they can be overly dependent on the opinions of others and fear conflict. In some cases, a focus on external harmony and beauty can lead to superficiality and a lack of depth.

Jupiter in Scorpio

Jupiter in Scorpio is about intense emotions, passion, and deep transformation. Many natives with Jupiter in this sign are drawn to exploring the hidden aspects of life, investigating the mysterious, and developing intuition. They possess immense inner strength and determination, which allows them to overcome difficulties and achieve their goals. Jupiter in Scorpio promotes personal growth and transformation. Natives are capable of going through profound changes and emerging renewed. Jupiter in Scorpio also endows natives with passion and magnetism, making them attractive to others. They can be incredibly generous and devoted to those they love and value. One of the challenges of this placement is the intensity of Scorpio, which can manifest as jealousy and possessiveness towards loved ones. In some cases, perceptiveness and willpower can be used to manipulate others.

Jupiter in Sagittarius

Jupiter is in its domicile in Sagittarius, meaning that this planet feels "at home" here and expresses its qualities most brightly and harmoniously. Natives with Jupiter in Sagittarius in their natal chart are often characterized by enthusiasm, faith in the best, a desire for knowledge, and spiritual development. They can be generous and have high ideals. They are ready to share knowledge, resources, and time with others. Jupiter is traditionally considered the planet of luck, and in Sagittarius, this luck is often associated with travel, education, and spiritual growth. The challenge that those with Jupiter in Sagittarius may face is a tendency towards excessive spending and exaggeration. Due to the desire to acquire as much knowledge as possible, they may not delve deeply into a subject. In the worst case, their enthusiasm can turn into fanatical devotion to their ideas and intolerance of other points of view.

Jupiter in Capricorn

Jupiter in Capricorn is in the sign of its fall, which means a weakened manifestation of its natural qualities. The energy of expansive and optimistic Jupiter is somewhat restrained by the practicality and restraint of Capricorn. This is not necessarily bad, it simply means Jupiter’s energy is expressed differently than in other signs. Jupiter in Capricorn endows the native with ambition and the ability to work hard to achieve their goals. They know how to plan and think strategically. Unlike the fiery enthusiasm of Jupiter in Sagittarius, a pragmatic approach to life prevails here. Natives with Jupiter in Capricorn are serious about their responsibilities and strive for success in their careers and social lives. However, unfortunately, the desire for success can become an obsession, leading to neglect of other areas of life. There can also be a tendency towards control and intolerance of other people’s opinions.

Jupiter in Aquarius

Jupiter in Aquarius feels quite comfortable because Aquarius is a sign associated with innovation, progress, and expansion of consciousness, which resonates with Jupiter’s expansive nature. This placement promotes the development of original thinking, humanitarianism, and a desire for a better future. Natives with Jupiter in Aquarius have unconventional thinking, are not afraid to stand out from the crowd, and go their own way. They are interested in everything new and progressive, strive to expand their horizons, and easily absorb information. Jupiter in Aquarius promotes the expansion of one’s social circle and building connections with people from different walks of life. But despite their sociability, they can be emotionally detached and experience difficulties in close relationships. Sometimes their ideas can be too detached from reality and difficult to implement in practice.

Jupiter in Pisces

Here, Jupiter expresses its generosity, compassion, and desire for expansion through spirituality, creativity, empathy, and understanding the world on a deeper level. Natives with Jupiter in Pisces can be very religious or interested in various spiritual practices. They are often right in their premonitions and easily sense the emotional state of those around them. They can be talented artists, musicians, writers, or simply possess a rich inner world. It can be difficult for them to cope with everyday problems and organize their lives. Unfortunately, they can be easily influenced and susceptible to the influence of various gurus and teachings. They should not take on too much responsibility and allow others to take advantage of their kindness.

#astrology@soul_visions #astrology #jupiter@soul_visions #jupiter #astro blog #astro notes #astro tumblr #astro community #astro observations #natal chart #zodiacsigns

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miss-tarja · 4 months ago

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El Diablo Wears Prada (Pt. 6)

Mafia boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Angst, emotional distress, scheming, emotional conflict, mild fluff towards the end, suicidal tendencies, mentions of death, slow burn burning, heartache, gun manipulation, emotional meltdown, reckless behaviors, manipulation, sociopathic tendencies (Massimo)

Summary: Massimo keeps planting seeds of pain as you try to end it all.

A/N: Thanks for your patience towards this lil thing <3 The plot keeps moving! Hope you like. Reblogs and feedback much appreciated <3.

“So…” Xina exhaled as soon as the privacy of another room welcomed her and Miguel with the click of the lock. “Wanna tell me why should I help you this time?”

Miguel’s shoulders tensed, shrinking with a hint of awkwardness in the way. As much as he preferred to do things on his own, he knew help eventually would knock on his door and reproach him for avoiding it too long. And coming to none other than his ex wasn't exactly the way he had envisioned such a thing. But the woman was one of the smartest people he had known in the business so far.

Another mark got added to your black list of annoying traits. You were making him go back to places he once promised himself wouldn't return to. You were pushing him into somehow confronting things he had left almost done. However, he was grateful that Xina was a pithy thinker. She understood with little and asked no questions. It worked better that way for them.

“Cause you'll get a good cut out of it." He gestured while pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

Xina nodded, unamused for a moment as she took the cigarette from his mouth in a silent warning to not pollute her sanctuary with the smell, to then throw the piece of vanilla scented cigar to the trash. The gears in her mind worked like a perfectly oiled machine and curiosity always prevailed within her.

“And?” she urged, and Miguel rolled his eyes. He knew that look miles away. The kind of look that sooner or later would coerce him into speaking the truth. A trait that amused him when they dated back then.

“Nothing else.” He shrugged, “Just need your help to locate a man to finish a little thing pending on the side. Thought you might be interested, since I know you enjoy hunting assholes down."

“How thoughtful." Her brow quirked, "And does that woman have to do with that little thing?”

Silence filled the room for a second, but Xina's giggle interrupted it, with her hands up in the air with a feigned surrender when Miguel glowered her way.

“Ah, don’t look at me like that. You goddamn well now you have a penchant for showing off your conquests. Tacky as they are." Her hand dismissed him, "Must say, I'm surprised, though. This one is... different. Didn’t think you were into eight-to-five job sort of women."

“Xina.” Miguel warned, irked and she just chuckled.

“Guess we're making the right choices in women now, huh? As for your thing on the side, why not ask Dana about it?” Although the pettiness dripped from the question, Xina had to give the brunette some credit. She was cunning, not at her level, but smart enough to call Miguel's attention and give his ego a good stroke.

“She could never do it. And she's dead. Now, can we focus on things that actually matter? Did you read the file I sent you?”

Xina just watched him for a moment before sighing.

“I’m afraid I haven’t. Too busy with other things. Though, I heard about the shooting. Sorry for your men's loss. Is Gabriel okay?”

Miguel just nodded, briefly.

“He is. Came to check up on me the next day. But enough of it." He pulled the chair closer to her main computer. "Long story short, I’m looking for a man, a corrupt lawyer that owes me a shit ton of money. He vanished into thin air. Need to locate him, or to see if he’s left the country.”

“Well, shock me. Who's the poor soul that crossed the devil?”

“That woman's husband.” Miguel's mouth soured not only at the title of said man, but at the sudden image of his face coming unannounced first seats in his mind. Like a plague that haunted him for the wrong reasons.

Xina had to blink a couple of times to let the information sink in properly.

"...Right. If you're here, it means not even her knows about his whereabouts."

Miguel huffed. "She didn't even know he had a secret life. Tried to pry the information-"

"Ugh, stop." Xina scrunched her nose, "I don't wanna hear how you fucked her already."

Miguel just chuckled and crossed his legs in front of her. "Guess my methods are getting old."

"I'd say predictable. Maybe you're not being patient enough to pry it out the correct way from her."

"Time's running out, Xina. Patience is not a luxury I can afford right now. I need to find that man." His eyes raked over the different screens, revealing the many attendees too into their business. Some danced, others drank to their hearts' whims as new ones arrived. Yet Xina's voice snapped him out of the steering thoughts.

"Of course you do. It's not that simple though."

"It never is. I know much. Every time I think I've found something, it turns out it's nothing but crumbs from shit unrelated." He sunk deeper in his seat, "And the fucking cherry of all this? I've got a snitch in the family."

Xina whistled lowly, a little hiss escaped her mouth with disapproval marring her pretty face as she shook her head.

"And it all started with that woman."

"Ah c'mon. You're just frustrated at her for not giving you what you need. And I’m not talking about breaking the bed every night.”

"¡Es un dolor de huevos!" He groaned, "Always crying for that asshole and being dramatic instead of being helpful, and-" (She's a pain in the ass!)

Au contraire of Massimo's unwelcomed remembrance showing up, the sudden memory of your face contorted in the sheerest of pleasure as he pounded into you, came to his mind for a brief second, interrupting his thoughts for a moment.

"And?" Xina teased, But Miguel wasn't having it.

"Xina, por favor, focus."

"Por favor, what?" She huffed, "Must I remind you that's how you and I started?"

"Yeah. And look at us now. I'm surprised you haven't syphoned one of my accounts by now." He grumbled

The boss herself rolled her eyes, slapping the back of his head softly, earning an annoyed huff from him. "You're frustrated ‘cause you, a control freak, don't know how to deal with unexpected things."

And God, he hated when she was right. For someone that prided into being a cold-headed thinker and collected man, the lack of control in any aspect of his life was unthinkable. An error from life itself. A glitch that he would fix sooner or later.

"Unexpectedly or not, Kingpin is after her."

Xina slicked her hair back, a habit she adopted from the man before her, to then walk towards her equipment. Slender fingers typed elegantly the password over the worn keyboards, granting herself access to her database.

"I understand the urge of you to find her husband, but why does Kingpin want her?"

"El cabrón este made her sign things she shouldn't. She thought she was helping him with business related stuff. But, the asshole was just making sure to not leave his traces behind, and put her as the main target.” He paused to wet his lips. “The FBI has all the evidence with her signature in it. And you know those cabrones sell themselves to anyone paying a good cut." (That son of a bitch)

"Just when you think men can't go any lower, there's that guy." Xina shook her head, repulsed, but even she knew pronouncing those words would be like indirectly challenging the corrupt man to be worse.

"That's why I need to find him. If Kingpin catches him, my money is gone."

Bullshit

His mind corrected. Miguel knew he was feeding himself big spoonfuls of seasoned lies. As much as he couldn't care less about people, needlessly dragging innocents to shady business wasn't something he indulged in, as it meant more unnecessary trouble in the long run for his empire.

Unfortunately, you had seen and known too much to go by as an innocent. As you bore the mark of a target, bright and dazzling on your back, not only because of the man that swore to protect and love you at the altar. But for doing such a simple thing as to remain at MIguel’s side.

El Diablo knew that even if you hadn't done something wrong, men like Kingpin wouldn't take the time to tell apart the rotten apple from the rest, and would discard the whole batch instead without much thought.

Xina kept typing, listening with perked ears to his complaints. It was rare when something managed to upset him this much. For a moment she didn't know if to mock him for the righteous karma he got for wronging her in the past, or to pity him.

An empire was put on his shoulders with non-trustworthy men surrounding him, resulting in restless nights because of said people and other things plaguing his mind sure did take a toll on his broad shoulders. Trust was as sacred as his beliefs yet, he couldn't even trust his shadow now.

"Well, that's not a bad thing, is it? Sure the money part sucks, but at least she won't be your problem anymore. Or you'd rather get rid of her yourself?"

The question weighed his other thoughts down. Would he? He didn't have a reason to actually keep you, beyond being a guarantee he knew wouldn't be claimed at this point. A keepsake that was surrendered unwilling and unknowingly in his hands, and always prodded his brain with the same question. If he knew Max wouldn't pay him, why keep you around?

"Can't leave loose ties, can't I?"

The words came out in automatic, but the promise in them, nonexistent. Empty of the end he always delivered his foes with flying colors.

Xina seized him for a second longer and hummed, as if pondering.

"Well, Imma need the guy's complete name and phone number."

Massimo Alessandro Bianchi.

Lawyer at 23, master in laws at 27, successful and professional, charming husband at 30, one of the most acclaimed lawyers in New York at 32, and the most wanted man from underworld dons at 34. He had played God over men's rules for so long, that late justice was an inconceivable concept for him.

Aaron had given him the news he needed and wanted about you, yet few things had surprised him greatly.

To starters, he didn't think or rather refused to believe El Diablo would take the extra mile to protect you. Even if that meant you getting fucked by the criminal Don himself. And not that he didn't enjoy sex with his wife, but money and power had been weighing more in his messed up priorities since a long time ago.

Although you remained in the top five of that list, your spot was always the latest. Aaron had scratched the first one, to know about your status. His own hands had scratched the second, by getting rid of the evidence by burning his home and frame none other than Miguel for it. And now that he knew you were alive and good, and no traces would get to bite his ass later, he moved to the next. Your parents.

Ever since the devil showed up at his doorstep and took you and very important documents away from him, he called his favorite group of officers to help him out. Not only did he untie himself, but searched through other hidden compartments to see if they had been ransacked by that demon’s imps. When he took what he needed, his home turned into one of the biggest bonfires in the city.

And every time your parents called you, he always picked up with loving excuses of how much you both were enjoying an impromptu vacation in Italy. Or how you were sleeping after long hours of lovemaking as you both were trying to make them grandparents. He had them both in the dark for so long that they eventually stopped asking. Until he revealed the most convenient part of the truth to them. Causing a meltdown to your mother as soon as she learned you were missing.

Their anguish had just started, but like the compassionate man he was, Bianchi was here to end their suffering.

His steps guided him to the elevator, after presenting his ID card to the guard assigned to the spot. And once inside he smiled, satisfied at the magnitude the whole show had gained. He truly had outdone himself this time. Hiring guards for your parents security sure was a must, but the fake victim act needed to be up at all times.

Sometimes he purposely didn't sleep to appear more disheveled, he let his beard grow to keep the charade of a worried and hardworking husband, who did everything he could to find his missing wife, afloat to gain the pity of those around him.

So far it worked. Massimo had even gotten a few sympathizers within the firm. His cases were assigned to someone else in a show of support for him to solely focus on finding you, and getting the bad guy behind bars. A true hero. A phony one that had tried a lot of methods to make himself cry, to try to achieve that worn and burnt out man look.

His face adopted that somber and distant stare, but this time he had to be more convincing, especially with the news he wanted to deliver. He squeezed and rubbed his eyes a bit too hard to redden them, and practiced his sniffing before reaching the stage where he would deliver one of his best performances so far in this self made tragedy.

The doors swung open and he walked over yet another guarded door. His eyes became heavy with sadness the more he approached, and when the guards stepped aside to let him in, his hand hesitated to knock. Adding bonus points to the commitment in his role as some guards stared for a second longer in his way.

But Bianchi was brave enough to knock, and in matters of minutes the wooden door swung open, revealing a man with a gentle looking but distressed face. His relief lasted less than a heartbeat and the lawyer was urged to get inside by him.

“Massimo!” Your father yelped, alarmed, nearly dragging him inside.

“Henry.” The defender’s voice turned solemn, adding even more distress to your parent’s worn spirits.

Your mother rushed to your devoted husband. Her gentle hands pried the cold coat away from him and put it on the hanger.

“Please, tell me you’ve found her.” Your father pleaded, anguish shrouded his features as tears peeked in the corner of his eyes.

Bianchi had to take a deep breath and gesture with his hands to keep the animosity down, tensing your parents even further.

“Please tell us!” Your mother pressed

“I need you both to please take a seat. Especially you.” He instructed your mother and she shook her head, dread soaked her from head to toe.

“No. No! Where is my baby, Massimo?!” She pleaded. Your dad joined her as soon as her voice broke, holding her close in a poor attempt to keep her together for the upcoming blow. “I know you’re doing your best, but it’s been almost a month since we’ve known anything about our daughter! Where is she?!” Her voice trailed into an incomplete and choking sob.

“I’m…I’m really sorry, Mira.” Massimo gulped, swallowing the imaginary knot in his throat, as he pulled an envelope and gave it to Henry.

“Wh… What’s that?” Henry’s throat became arid, breaking his voice as well, “Massimo, what is that?” His eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from the capitalized letter inscription in the back of the envelope.

NEW YORK CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT

CRIMINALISTICS FORENSIC REPORT

Mira had to hold onto Massimo’s arms since Henry's were too numb to take over. She wept, and wept hard, while pleading to the heavens for it to be a cruel joke. Cause if it was, she’d stand it. She’d bear the disgust of the universe's tasteless pranks when it came to his beloved ones, if it meant to hear that it was all an atrocious lie later. Yet his son in law’s words did little to solace her bleeding heart.

“I’m really sorry, I… I tried everything in my power to recognize her but…” Massimo gulped, trying to get his broken voice out. Thankfully for him, Mira’s desolated weeping gained him some time to think of his next words.

“What happened to my daughter?!” Henry, half angered and half broken, demanded. “You were the one I handed her over to protect! And now you tell us she’s dead?! How dare you!”

“You think only you have the right to cry over her?! I’m a fucking widow! I’ve lost my wife, my home! EVERYTHING! Because of my job.” His voice finally broke in a breathless shout. Maybe in another life he could’ve been a marvelous actor cause Henry looked away, as if ashamed for accusing him of such heinousness, “You think it was easy for me to know she was scared and then ending up searching for her through charred shit, cause I couldn’t get on time to save her from that psycho?!”

Mira recoiled from the outburst into her husband’s shaky embrace, staggering on her steps and reasoning.

“You think it was easy for me to get to the lab and receive a bunch of samples instead of my wife?!” the defender shouted with glossy eyes, and his words were enough to get Mira’s body collapsing from a nervous breakdown. The news had been too much for her already frail mind.

“Mira! Mira!!” Henry held her close, gasping and trembling. Massimo rushed to help him, but Henry pushed him away. Too volatile and antsy to let any other man close to his rattled wife. “Get away. Get out!!!” He exhaled furiously, trying to calm his erratic and panicky breaths as his mind tried his best to regain control over his emotions and functions. His hands cupped his wife’s paling countenance while laying on the floor with her. Sobbing and sniffing for the sudden loss suffocating them both with a vice-like grip.

Massimo gathered himself and left the envelope in the closest surface available and stepped away, cleaning his face from the dripping tears rolling down.

“I’m sorry I’ve failed you both.” he sniffed, “But I promise you… That madman will pay. I’ll make him rot in hell for ripping a part of me.” He gulped, trying to drown yet another imaginary sob. “Miguel O’Hara will pay for burning everything I’ve loved.”

With an unflinching resolution shining in his eyes, Massimo left the apartment, leaving the agonizing couple to deal with the shocking news, the mourning and evidence described in the report within the envelope.

That’ll have them busy.

“Call an ambulance right away.” He instructed a nearby officer as he got into the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed in his face and isolated him from the main scenario, with a swipe of his hands he erased all traces of misery and despair from his now triumphant face.

A smile spread wider in his lips upon recognizing his breakthrough. They’d be out his way for quite some time, too busy with a funeral and someone else’s ashes to care about his doings. And, if he played his cards right, Bianchi was sure he’d get some time off the firm to finish his own business and move on with his plan.

He’d be free soon. Freedom was two more steps away. He could almost taste it, sweeter than the perfume you wore whenever you tried to get him into bed with you. Scrumptious like the rush of adrenaline coursing through his brain each time cocaine reached past his lungs, after sniffing it out from a woman’s cunt before eating her out like a possessed man.

And now with a third objective marked off his list, it was time for the next in line, even if this one took a little longer than anticipated. Miguel. His prosecutor, his torment, the demon that haunted his sleep and the new owner of his favorite toy. Massimo had shared you enough. It was time to pull his doting husband mask on again.

After what it seemed like never ending hours, Xina finally could find a potential lead that would reduce his search ratio considerably. She searched and he replied to the questions Kwan threw at him, there was no time to waste with physical distractions.

Miguel was too irked and bored to cave in, and Xina was too focused into cracking the many security codes the FBI database had to deepen the search.

“It would all be better if I had Lyla here. Messy as she is, she’s quicker in interpreting this programming language than I am.” Xina mumbled, pursing her lips, completely vexed at the admission and at the program that kept changing lines every certain amount of seconds.

“Call her then.” Miguel pressed with a roll of his eyes, which got Xina gifting him a brief deadpan.

“Once she’s on the dancefloor there’s little I can do. Pray she’s not drunk. She gets too chatty and bold with whomever she’s partying with.”

“Thought you liked having fun as well?”

“Hunting assholes like these, yeah. Not dancing.” Xina nodded, with a satisfied smirk in her gorgeous features.

Miguel in the meantime had glued his eyes towards the screens displaying in the back once more. His eyes wandered through them, skimmed through the many images changing until his stare remained still in a single spot. Curiosity got the best of him as he watched through a specific screen in the middle.

His eyes became unable to tore away from it as the scene displayed before him. It was Lyla, dancing until her feet were sore, singing from the top of her lungs, or so the image gave away, with none but you.

You laughed, wooed, even drank as if tonight was special. As if tonight all your problems would be solved and forgotten. It was a new side of you he didn't know and much to his surprise, it amused him.

It amused him to see you so damn loose and happy, unlike the defensive and reluctant woman he often found within the sheets of his enormous bed or couch. It all depended on his mood. If he was easygoing, the day was peaceful between you both, gaining him a few jokes here and there from you. But if he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, everything was chaos and a sour day.

But none would prepare him for witnessing Lyla’s, pulling you closer and closer until your mouth collided against yours. And he blinked when you pulled the hacker by her neck to deepen the kiss. His brows couldn’t help but widen at first to then furrow. Still deciding whether it was out of anger or confusion. What was going on?

¿A qué juegas, ratoncita? (What are you playing at, little mouse?)

Xina followed his line of sight and gasped, almost embarrassed.

“Goddammit, Lyla…” She mumbled, pressing a button and a bouncer stepped in right away.

“Bring Lyla and the woman, please.”

The bouncer nodded and scrambled off quickly.

Miguel on the other hand stood, his eyes despite being a little photophobic, adjusted perfectly into the dazzling neon lights surrounding you, to focus on you being yanked away from the kiss by Gabriel. Not that he blamed him for such a thing, he knew Lyla and her persuasive ways with people were always effective. Especially if they’ve been acting weird.

You have been acting out of your curious persona lately. You didn’t approach him for questions, nor bothered him in the slightest, causing the deafening silence to give him discreet jumpscares here and there. If it wasn’t for the gps attached to your ankle, his men would already be looking for you. It was too risky to leave you unsupervised.

You were quiet. Too quiet for his likings, and much to his dumbfound, he almost yearned for a dose of those snarky remarks you threw at him. But now everything you gave him was silence and brief stares, honoring beyond perfection that pet name he gave you. He didn’t like it one bit. He was lucky if he heard you say good morning or evening his way.

He knew he shouldn’t care a single ounce about it, but even a devil like him was aware that whenever a woman acted that way, everything was far from being okay, and he was the only possible culprit in the game. And yet, nothing had prepared him for what happened next.

As in slow motion, his eyes watched with rising dread and an unknown feeling constricting his chest, at the way your hands reached for Gabriel’s face. Almost too lover-like.

What are you doing?

His mind demanded, more at you than at the poor control he had over his body, incapable of tearing his bewildered eyes from the scene. These widened when your hands held Gabriel on the spot, and pulled him for a kiss. Just like you had done with Lyla. No matter how much he needed to break the unwilling visual contact from the show you were giving everyone, his gaze remained fixated on your lips and how these devoured Gabriel’s.

Although his brother froze on the spot, a wave of… something stirred the need to punish him tenfold for not reacting quickly and ending the kiss right away. Was he enjoying it? Was Gabriel enjoying mocking him by letting his problem to kiss him? He had to, or else he would’ve broken the kiss by now.

But oh, the scorching anger and that stupid something flared in his chest when your eyes met his. Defying him openly with an unsaid ‘fuck you’ his way. Just when he took in properly the spectacle, his eyes finally managed to avert.

Xina however had been analyzing every of his moves, acting like a silent watcher as everything unfolded right under her nose. A silent chuckle escaped her mouth upon the sight of Miguel’s evident conflict, switching between your stunt with Gabriel and his reaction. She didn’t know if to praise you for the bold move, or pat his back in a comforting gesture, cause even she felt the distraught energy irradiating from El Diablo.

But he looked away, focusing although absent minded in the blinking screen of his phone, apparently reading the notification’s bar log, until the door echoed with the bouncer’s knocking.

Lyla bursted in and hiccuped a smile, then approached Miguel with stumbling and ditzy steps.

“I’m so sorry for kissing your… your-” He hiccuped again and Xina caught her before the hacker ended up in El Diablo’s lap.

“Can you stop embarrassing me for just five minutes?” Kwan hissed as she took a giggling Lyla away from Miguel, to put her gently on a nearby couch.

You on the other hand sat outside the room, if you were leaving soon, why even bother to make more social life among them? And low key, your mind was too far gone into the many scenarios running in your mind to pay attention to Miguel.

“Guess our reunion is over. Will send the details to you soon.” Xina dismissed him as she asked the bouncer for a glass or bottle of water.

Miguel stood and slicked his hair back, walking over the door. The first one coming to his sight was Gabriel. That gulped and stared his way like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen, and awkward. The youngest of the O’Hara only managed to look away as he cleared his throat.

“She’s on the stairs and-”

“Tell Ben to prepare the car.” He interrupted dryly as his eyes scanned the hall, or rather the end of it.

Just as Gabriel had said, you were there in the stairs, slumped against the cool wall, staring into nothing.

Gabri just nodded and disappeared as fast as his feet managed to. There was an unspoken rule he always obeyed despite the blood connecting them.

To not touch what was his.

Sure you were far from being his favorite person, but if Miguel had already laid eyes on you and bedded you, it meant you were off the table, even if accidental. He wasn’t in the mood, nor the time to fuck around and find out again. His eldest brother could be quite creative when it came to punishments whenever he misbehaved.

Miguel’s steps however echoed your way, announcing his presence with ominous moves. You didn’t flinch when he stood tall and proud next to you.

“It’s time to go. Move.” He spoke, yet you didn’t move, instead, just yawned and rubbed your face, trying to wash away the alcohol written all over your cheeks and eyes. And this got his jaw tensing. “I said, move.”

“Manners wouldn’t be bad for you.” Unlike Lyla, your alcohol intake offered a bit more resistance towards it, and you had diluted it through constant glasses of water to avoid ending up completely wasted. Your brain was aware, but your body staggered slightly as you stood.

Miguel had to muster everything in his power to not bite a comeback, but the speed you were walking sure did increase his brewing anger. How dare you speak to him about manners when you had kissed his brother before his every eyes and could barely stand on your own, while he was trying to get a hold of your husband?

Without much saying, he stood before you and threw you over his shoulder.

“W-What are you doing?! Put me down!!” You shrieked while trying to remove yourself from his shoulder, but your sight was everything but stable. It swooned, twisted and bent underneath you, as if it would swallow you whole if you fell. Your hands held onto him, clawing at the end of his back. His hand however curled around your thighs, to hold you in place as the other one, delivered you a firm spank, stilling you completely.

“Cállate ya. (Shut up already) You barely can walk on your own and smell like fucking cheap wine. Thought you had more standards than that.”

“Oh scre… screw you.” you hiccuped, “You’re the least to talk about standards.”

Miguel had to stop for a moment to take a deep breath. He didn’t want to cause a scene, but you were proving hard to deal with. In other times, he’d reply with the same high spirits as yours, but right now the anger and other unknown feelings plagued his mind, ruining any form of interaction.

Some people outside stared at you both as he approached the car. With ease, he pulled you away from his shoulder, pushing him inside the car. The heat of your body had increased, he noted. He didn’t know how much you had drunk, but sure as hell you’d wake up hungover tomorrow. That if you didn’t put yourself in danger.

“Help!” You yelped and kicked, “Help!”

But none of the attendees in line outside aided you, given your current stupor, they thought nothing alarming was happening. If anything, It only made Miguel put you down on the floor to then push you into the back seats as he slammed the door shut. It was enough cue for Ben to drive away.

Miguel caught Gabriel’s eyes for a moment. His lid twitched and his lips scowled, and Gabri looked away. A submission gesture that earned a satisfying huff from Miguel.

“Take a turn on the left. We’re going to Queens.”

“Wait… wait… what about the hotel?” You mumbled groggily, the alarms flared in the back of your hazy head but Miguel ignored you completely.

“Go to Copper Boulevard and then stop at Ember Towers. Tell Peter and Jessica to bring our stuff there.”

As much as you wanted to protest and give yourself a voice for him to listen to you, the haziness in your brain saved you from opening your mouth to say something potentially stupid that would only add more fire to his already brewing anger. With a pout, you curled once more on your end of the seat, as Miguel looked through his window. Devoting himself to silence.

For a moment, your brain played a graceless joke and tricked you into seeing none other than Massimo sitting there. A painful déjà vu crossed your memory, forcing you to relive for a brief moment the way Bianchi used to ignore you whenever you were ‘too emotional’ for the night.

“Miguel…” You called through a careful mumble, pressing to see if he’d even look your way, “Where are we going?”

Silence welcomed you instead. His mind was too enraptured by the messages displaying on his screen to pay attention to you. But in truth, he was holding back his tongue to say stuff that would probably make the rift between you wider. And the least he wanted was to take more of what he could manage in his plate.

You didn’t talk during the rest of the trip, as you had slowly fallen asleep.

Your head swayed and lolled to the sides. Your eyes managed to slowly open, sadly they didn’t recognize the place they were in. Marble floor extended left and right, a tinge of golden rimmed them on the edges. Your whole body floated, almost too comfortable as if someone was taking you to a peaceful realm.

The grip adjusting underneath your knees only broke the illusion of you floating, and when you looked up who it was, your heart raced, making half the stupor to leave your body in a go. Your head craned to see the door sliding open, revealing a place that looked like Miguel's personal penthouse.

Unlike the tower he lived in, the place was almost empty, stripped from its deco. Except for a couple of scarce furniture scrambled in strategic places like the living room you were both in, the main bedroom and of course the kitchen. It was the basics as the rest would come later.

You heard Gabriel’s meek voice telling him that he had business to attend, that he was sorry. But Miguel ignored him, and rather put you, a tad brisk, on the couch. Earning immediately a protest kick in his forearm as he had startled you while he removed your shoes.

“Stay still.” He warned

“No! Let me go!” You half mumbled, half startled, earning a growl from him as he tried to get your dressed feet.

“Mira que si eres un dolor de huevos horrible… Stay the fuck still! You’re gonna hit yourself.” (You’re such a pain in the ass.)

He grumbled, hovering now his arms over your shoulders, but your mind was still on cloud nine of alcohol and melancholy didn't help by showing up. You slapped his hands away with a firm no. And it was the last straw of his patience. He took you by the arms and lifted you, shaking you briefly to see if that made you come to your senses.

“Fucking stop!” He shouted. “You’ve got no idea what I’m sacrificing for letting you breathe another day!” The words dripped with venom as his face hovered over yours. His fangs bared to you as you struggled to push him away. Unlike other times, fear was completely absent in your head and heart.

“Then, fucking kill me!” You defied. Tears pooled in your angry eyes as you looked at him straight in the eyes. “If I’m such a burden for you, fucking kill me and get rid of me like you told Gabriel you would!”

His hands loosened their grip for a moment. Realization didn’t hit him with all his might as he tried to place your spite. He didn’t remember talking to Gabriel recently, except for…

Oh…

Your hands pushing him away and unsheathing the gun from his waist, was enough dose for his eyes to widen, disturbed as you turned the gun’s cannon and placed it under your chin.

“Stop!” He shouted, horrorized for a second while your fingers tinkered with the weapon, struggling to get the damned security pin off. “Gimme the fucking gun!” Never in his life his fingers worked so fast to neutralize someone. His fingers curled on the weapon and pulled back, just in time as a gunshot echoed through his ears with an acute ring, buzzing through his system.

The bile rose in the back of his throat, his mouth turned arid, swallowing was too painful and for a moment his chest trembled with an unwelcome guest from his repertoire of feelings he rarely paid attention to. Panic. He had panicked for a moment. Not because of the gunshot. No. Panic because you still wanted to get the gun from his grip as tears rolled freely down your flushed cheeks.

“¿¡Qué mierda te pasa?! (What the fuck is wrong with you?!) You’re gonna kill youself!” He roared, still perturbed as he threw the weapon away from your reach, and you screeched and punched his chest.

“You’re just like him! You’re just like Massimo!” You bawled, completely out of wits. The sudden weight of the events finally crashed on your shoulders, unable to hold it anymore. Too heavy on your feeble psyche. The kidnap, your beaten husband, your missing parents, him, his world, everything. Everything was turning your head upside down. “You fucking liar!”

But your words only made him cage your torso tighter with his broad arms. If anyone could look at you both, would say that you were hugging. But in truth he was containing you to prevent your meltdown to worsen as you struggled and even punched his chest harder in an agonizing attempt to break yourself free from your misery.

“You just used me!” You wept and gasped, and he pulled you tighter, unabling you to move. Yet, you squirmed, desperate to breathe and be away from him. “And you keep using me!”

Miguel’s eyes darted back and forth between you and your shaky hands. He could feel the speedy thrumming of your heartbeat, that threatened to stop at any second. Your words hammered in his chest with such power, that the comparison between him and Massimo had stung a bit too much than he actually wanted to admit.

And even despite the terror spreading through your body, your mouth kept spilling what you didn’t have the courage to tell him while sober. The alcohol had won over you, unleashing the dam of your chaotic thoughts, while you kicked, screamed and cried in his chest, until your own legs gave up. Much to his own shock, his body had gained self control as he was unable to let you go. Instead, it had locked you in a tight embrace.

Too on edge to free you and give you the power to commit another unhinged trick. You had seen death face to face and hadn’t hesitated to end it all, you had welcomed it even. You had even begged to be released to finish your task. And then quiet. You had quieted down.

Your hands slowly loosened their grip on their own and clutched onto his back, holding him in a such grip, his throat gulped laboriously as your body collapsed in his arms, causing both to fall onto the couch. You fell on top of him, and he caught you with ease.

“Ratoncita…” He whispered and tensed as soon as the first open and maudlin sob escaped you. Then another, until turning into that familiar cry only those in real anguish let out. He swallowed again.

“He doesn’t love me, Miguel…” You hiccuped with trembling lips and shaking your head, finally grasping the truth behind your next words “Massimo never loved me…”

The realization hit him differently this time. He sighed, glad that your strength had vanished, but also conflicted. The pain in each syllable coming out of your pretty mouth held so much heartache, so much hurt that for a second his mind stopped to ponder properly what kind of man did this to a beloved one?

What kind of heartless man would abandon his wife in such a risky situation that probably would put anyone in the psych ward?. And by the looks of your outburst you sure as hell needed it. But it also made him wonder with a question he refused to find an answer to. Cause even he had limits when it came to his violence.

Did Massimo beat you?

“Why… why won’t he love me?...” your weeps vanished into the soft, yet soaked by tears shirt. The warm and moist feeling of your liquid pain staining his chest, puzzled him greatly as it stirred and poked awake, even if little, that urge of protection and comfort

“I don’t know, hermosa…” He shook his head, his voice toning a good couple of angry notes down, but it wasn’t strident like when he started yelling, it was soft. Almost comforting if it wasn’t for the sudden hatred simmering in between lines. “His loss, though.”

His words made you crane up to meet his stare, and his chest constricted for a second longer than necessary upon the sight. Beautifully defeated, anxious and weary. Staring at him with more questions in those pretty eyes he could barely answer.

“He’s not paying you up, is he?”

He gulped and shook his head. And your head hung for a second before giving yet another sob, staring back at him.

“He doesn't care what happens to me anyway, never did.” Your voice trailed off. Even in these messed up entanglement of limbs and heartache, the heat irradiating from his body resulted in an unexpected comfort.

Once the initial resilience of escaping vanished, your hands relaxed completely, sauntering over his chest to finally cup his face. His pupils dilated and a breath escaped his mouth as you placed your head against his.

“Why haven't you killed me yet?” More like why haven't you ended your suffering with me yet?

“I… I don’t know.” An honest answer. Too honest perhaps for his likings, and it didn't help that the beat of his heart had somehow matched yours in that crazed tempo only hummingbirds managed to achieve when your nose rubbed against his.

“Then, kiss me.” Your mouth was already hovering over his but Miguel pulled away, enough for those eyes of yours to turn glossier and rounder at the evident rejection.

However his hand cupped yours in return, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. Taking a feel of your trembling lips. He didn’t know what confused and perturbed him the most. The emotions you put him through in a single night and the outcome of so many bad decisions resuming into you asking for a kiss, or the words coming out of his mouth

“I’f I’m to kiss you right now, you won’t remember it.” you blinked almost stupidly at him to then press closer once more. He pulled back again with a tender yet warning look.

“Maybe I want to forget.” You mumbled, half asleep, half staring into his soul. Yet, you let him maneuver your body until you rested on his chest, back in your original position.

The warmth of your body mixed with his was the unexpected and calming antidote for your chaotic outburst. His hands for once had the opposite effect in a foe, as your breaths evened until the weight of your world crushed your eyes resistances and put you to sleep. Completely drained from yourself.

Maybe he had turned softer over the years. Or maybe you had pressed the correct buttons for his walls to crack enough and let the man underneath to allow himself to feel a bit more beyond responsibility and duties. The heartache had been real in his life as well, giving you both another thing in common.

“And maybe I want you to remember.” He murmured in a faint whisper.

Massimo sure made it all about business. But now that your tears had soaked his bones and your pain permeated his soul as you rested in his chest, stripped off your dignity, it had turned completely personal.

And may God or mercy protect the man that turned things personal with him.

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#t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguelverse #el diablo wears prada #Spotify

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allthegothihopgirls · 10 months ago

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jason's suicidal tendencies still prevail even when he's been turned into a street dog by garro spores. he should be studied

#dc beast world #dc comics #jason todd #red hood #gothihop speaks

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yandere-wishes · 1 year ago

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⋆.˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕍𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕪 ⋆.˚

𐙚Yandere! Qimir X Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.

⁀➷ Does this count as "That's that me, espresso"?

🪐 Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Stockholm syndrome, blood, and gore.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Espresso by Sabrina Carpender

Dark Vacay by CAS

The heat licks at your neck dangerously. The scathing red glow cleaves through flesh, through bone.

Warm, warm, warm.

The sort of swelter befitting rampant volcanos and rebirthing suns.

The man, no, the Sith has you pinned to his chest. His force,a dark pulsating thing, coiling through your body, keeping you rooted.

Sol's voice echoes through the canopy. Sending ripples through the blood-matted forest floor. "Release her." His saber is drawn, pointed.

Blue vs red.

Hot vs cold.

"Give me the relic." The voice lacks emotion, empathy. It demands, it takes. There is no room for formalities here, no chivalry you've long believed in. This monster deals only in dark. Taking and taking. "And I won't hurt her".

You try to push him away, to fight. Your force against his, clawing at the dark ether around you, hunting for an aperture, a splinter anything to infiltrate. But he is resilient, strong the way most volcanos are.

Impenetrable.

You moan against the tightening noose. He demands and you must obey. Such a dark thing can even make your master bow, make him give up the ancient blood-red relic. "You have your relic, now release my pupil." Behind you the monster chuckles, an airy noise overflowing with malice, "I said I wouldn't hurt her, not that I'd give her back."

The lights dull. Neon fading into a fuzzy mess of colors too tangled to decipher. Voices weave bending to the blaring buzz echoing from within. The world grows darker, you try to clutch onto something, anything. The cool colors of saber light, the soothing tone of your master's voice. The monster's dark cadence. But it's no use, the darkness prevails, pulling you under its crushing waves, burying you in a sea of nihil.

The world is dim upon resurgence. The air tastes of salt, fresh and dry upon the throat. The earth you lay in is warm, not like the smoldering heat of a bloodborne saber, but the warmth you imagine a mother's embrace to hold. Soft in every way that counts.

The place is alien and abandoned. No family, no monsters. Just rock upon rock and makeshift furniture to further the illusion of a makeshift home. The pounding upon your temples has yet to cease, you wonder if the outlines of a bruise have yet to bloom.

Slowly, you emerge from the cocoon of worn blankets. Bare feet scraping across the jagged floor. You feel the monster's presence linger, his essence strong within this place. You remember the dragon dens you used to read about in fairy tales. The gold-adorned caves where little princesses were forced to dwell.

It's funny you should feel like one now.

There are clothes sprawled across the floor. Vanilla ice cream in shade and shape, they feel too pure to have been chosen by a man like him. Too pure to have been tainted by the darkness of his fingertips. It's only now that the dress glares back that you notice your bareness, Jedi robes stripped and discarded.

That fiend...

You feel skinned, alone. No saber to grasp, no golden drapes. Nothing to paint you as Jedi. It's with reluctance that you lace yourself into the sweet dress, with utter reluctance that you step out onto the beach of rocks awaiting outside.

You spot the man,

the sith.

Qimir

His name reverberates within your head. You lick each letter, rolling them across your tongue and drinking in their condensation. "Qi-mi-rr" the name shouldn't taste of exotic fruits blended and bled. It shouldn't taste like fruit cocktails and coconut cubes but it does.

It does and it's disgustingly delicious.

He walks with the steady strout of a man who knows he is the most dangerous thing on this beach, on this island, on this entire planet. A volcano among mountains.

You follow behind bare feet on smooth rocks. Fumbling across the beach.

Chasing shadows. Chasing monsters.

He sheds his robes like skin, peeling away sabbath vestments to reveal cutis. Tanned and scarred, marred flesh risen like volcano veins cascading across his spine.

You shouldn't admit how desperately your fingers ache to trace the tragic thing. You glid your nails across the notched igneous rocks. Dreaming its soft flesh, his soft flesh beneath your touch. He would shutter under your fingertips as you pull apart his secrets. Nibbling on them like picnic cookies.

He's stripped bare, soft skin caught in the dim sun. His open wounds glisten under soft gold rays. You skate away from the sight, that forbidden sun-drenched sight. Eyes averted and hidden behind the rocks, twice locked, to avoid a rogue glance.

He is nothing if not haunting, forbidden in every way.

Odd how the memory of his bare ankles is what lingers. Carved too steep and too deep in a way that looks too marble. They merge into long robust legs. You can't help but imagine the sculpture of his thighs after, the thing at the end of those perplexing ankles. They too must be strong, carved to define each muscle. You imagine being trapped between them, their forceful push against your meaker body as his ankles intertwine with yours.

"You can open your eyes now."

You taste his darkness in your mouth again. Potent tropical fruits laced with sea salt. He couldn't have known you were trailing after him, you'd been quiet, silent like a whisper.

"It's improper to strip out in the open. What would you have done if someone should have come upon you?"

He treads in the water like a pearl unearthed. Shimmering alongside the blue-green of the lagoon. "You came upon me and nothing happened."

"That's because I had the good graces to avert my gaze from such a sight."

"I'd prefer if you'd look."

He pours water over his face, sparkly droplets cascading down sharp cheekbones. Eyes wide with an odd groggy wonder. The sky and the sea and him ethereally in between. He shouldn't look so magical. Some water nymph playing spike ball with the sun. Drinking in the clouds and blue. Before diving back down into his aquatic galaxy.

"Join me"

"I'd rather impale myself"

he's treading closer, water shielding his body like liquid lapis lazuli. "I wonder what your lips will taste like blue?" and it's the first time you've ever thought of your order's regalia as something so macabre.

His eyes are half-lidded, licking over your body like a melting Sunday. Or maybe he actually is, you can feel something wet and sinister sliding across your body. Slipping over and under the dress, sucking at pulse points. Anticipating soft vanilla.

You want to rip out his tongue and harbor in your mouth. You want to devour him as if he were ice cream on a summer day. Butterscotch cone with drizzled caramel and star sprinkles. Your teeth ache desperately for just one small bite.

He's standing, growing into a full man, no longer just a boy nymph memorized by soft whites and bright blues. The water droplet clutch greedy to taut muscles, refusing to leave such a Promethean thing.

The wet thing freezes. Running water to ice cube. His force evaporates from you, you bask in the mist of him. Before the shadow roots behind you impenetrable all over again. Qimir steps closer and you close your eyes on instinct. Stepping back, following the flow of sand in breeze.

Such sights are not for us to love.

It tips you off balance, You can't see Qimir but you can feel him. He's closer and closer. That's why you're stalking back. But the plasmic thing behind you nicks your ankle. Lurching you back. In the blink of an eye and the start of a scream, you're suspended in mid-air. Floating above the sands, save in the gossamer of his black mist.

"Careful" Qimir jests

And you crack your eye open just enough to see his outstretched hand.

"I want to take a shower"

"The lagoone is over there" he throws over his shoulder all so causally. like spelling out sea cemetary.

the warmth of the cave is suffocating. Lacing through your body making it breakout into little pearls of hidrosis. You roll over, watching Qimir, solder the cracks of his helmet. The rampant sparks cast him in a galactic white halo. Some intangible creature from the far reaches of the universe.

You wonder back to the incident by the lagoon.

You wonder if his tongue, his real tongue, would feel cool against your flaring skin. Muscle-bound ice cube rolling across your arms, your chest, drinking in your essence in half kisses and open-lipped moans. Sucking tenderly on the veins of your neck.

But shouldn't the tongues of monsters be spiked? cutting deep in search of blood?

Qimir swats the sweat from his temples. Pulling up the back of his shirt in an effort to fight the humidity. His scars transcend so low. Rivers weaving through him, overflowing with treasured secrets. You suck in the force through your lips drinking in its cold confidence. Marching up to stand behind him, only half admiring the rugged skin below the sandy shirt.

"Ahem" Spine straight, head held high. Your stance is practiced, sculpted in the confidence that the order demands. Lightside in every way.

Jedi, Jedi, Jedi

"I know it is futile to ask a treasonous sith like you to abide by the laws of common decency. But I'd ask that you do not come to spy on me while I bathe" Your hands ball into firsts. Glaring death and shark teeth at his blemished back.

He leaves the workbench with all the grace of a crushing tide. Elegance carved from salt rocks and years of walking through stars and shadows. But this time you refuse to step back. There is no dishabille to fear, no sand lines that may be passed.

But he doesn't confront you. He doesn't bask in his rage and stands proudly in front of you. No, instead he paces, or rather almost floats. He's in front of you one minute and behind you the next. The eerieness of it all only comes from the feeling of entombment. He is your cage, your coffin. Burying you under the sand with his precious secrets and red relics. Your nerve beats out of you in little droplets.

Qimir's fingers lace with your own, his hot breath fans the shell of your ear, "How can I make such promises when you act so cute" his voice is coconut shavings upon white sand. You aren't even sure he spoke. " I thought Sith only dealt in absolutes?" his laughter cuts like fractured seashells. Cutting through heartstrings. You want to hear it again and again until you've memorized its melody. "That's what we want the Jedi to believe."

His teeth graze the nape of your neck. That's the last straw, gravity crushes your nerve, and you take off running.

The pearls that shine within his sockets are entirely too dark. You shouldn't be thinking such this as you disrode. But the glimmer of pure drown isn't a worldly sight, it's something unplaceable.

Sith can not be trusted, even if, until mere days ago they had been things of fairytales like dragons and sea monsters. Mystical monsters used to frighten little padwans into finishing their plates. But the stories are true now, they've ripped open the holobooks and sprouted from the screen. Your fingers flex, feeling the weight of his hand in yours.

The monsters are real...

You keep your undergarments on as you descend with the sparkling tides. Qimir may appear at any moment. And you wish to confront a Sith in a Jedi's skin, or what little is left of it.

You're sinking into the watermelon greens and crystal blues, sinking into him... because even so far from the grotto his presence haunts your thoughts still.

"You wouldn't mind if I invite myself in?" The water laps at his feet, he's standing over the liquid threshold.

"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come."

he shrugs and you can't help but notice the definition of his muscles. "It's hot in the cave. Plus you don't own the beach."

He pulls the shirt over his head.

You scream for him to stop.

But this time as he pulls the waistband down you notice something underneath.

Swim trunks.

Bell-bottomed and shaped like a nebula, but only midnight in hue. The cuffs glimmer with red intricacies, patterns from a different time, a different solar system. Each stitch tells some tale of horror or history. Sith things that you'd rather not know. But why engrave them into a swimsuit? Why paint a tapestry on something so jejune?

He treads through the water, deadset on you. And again in every step, you notice a mettle valor that can only come from having killed and kissed your greatest fears.

The rocks are slippery beneath your feet, running, swimming, gliding whatever gets you further from him. But the rocks form barricades of their own. Igneous confines housing prey and beast.

"I meant it when I said you were cute." He has you pinned to the mineral mountains, eyes prying you open, studying your inner workings like a gutted bot. "So fragile so malleable..." You feel his power rolled over your neck.

You didn't expect the kiss. The taste of coconut shavings and caramel. Your heart hammers as he tugs on your hips, pulling you closer. Your lungs burn, filled with salt water and dark force energy.

But suffocating is a small price to pay when he parts your lips and pushes iced star fruits in your mouth.

That night Qimir had tried to feed you soup. Boiled fish and herbs in a cauldron that looks, entirely witch. But the refusal comes not from the perturbation of poison or the primal mistrust shared between star-crossed enemies.

No the refusal comes because you simply do not like fish.

"Just try a spoonful, it's from a rare breed. Considered a luxury on most planets". His entreaties fall on deaf ears, outvoiced by the stubbornness of a crashing tide. You retire hungry, and maybe it's hunger that stirs you in the dead of night.

Or maybe it's the heartbeat echoing from his mask.

He called it cortosis. But it looks more terror than diamond.

You sink to your knees in front of the haunted heirloom, cradling it gently within your palms. The iron flavor upon lips makes you part them, tongue fleshed tracing every welded scar. Sucking in the solder and crystal and every other poison.

You want to be a part of it, to pry open your ribcage and shove the empyrean taj within.

Let its darkness mingle with your blood. You want to feel it's royalty in the marrow of your bones.

In the morning you do not speak about the pulsating thing within. But the mask stares at you as you eat mint and bread from Qimir's hand.

It knows...

It knows things you can never admit.

You'd been planning on narrowly avoiding him. Tiptoeing across the cave to evade stirring him. But the plans die when first light breeches the aperture.

Qimir's gone.

And in his place, he's left yet another raiment.

The dress is summer and doll. Bowed in the back and studded.

Bar'biee in every way.

The hysterically placed designs parody the crisscross of twilight roses and all their thrones. Checkered in shades of obsidian and ink.

But the black of your dress doesn't quite match the ebony of his robes.

It simply plays testament to your ripeness. You're starting to feel like his little doll.

He lies on a beach towel overlooking the sea. So ordinary it makes you choke. Beach ball in the corner by his feet, waiting to be played with.

Fearless.

You wonder just who he had to kill to reach this hubris?

You float down the little exclaves toes barely touching the ground.

He's adorned the rocky beach with a comically large parasol too dark to even have a name. Another towel, a picnic basket, and little coconut cups with straws. Despite his black tainted sunglasses, he knows you're watching him. Caught in the bosom of this haunted shore. Awaiting your capturer's orders.

"You can sit if you want." again he's saying words without realizing how crushing they truly are. Their full weight pulling your bones until they slip from skin.

Might as well have said shark attack and death at sea.

But you obey because despite everything, the towel looks nice and so does the drink.

"The sun doesn't come out very often. But I figured we could at least enjoy it today."

"Thanks," you mutter chewing on the pink straw. You shift your limbs rigidly. Plastic doll coming to life. Pushing tense bones straight as you rest your uneasy head. The waves hum in your ear and you swear you hear the rocks buzze like star songs.

"Why did you bring me here? Why not kill me."

"Well, you're not really any use to me dead" He offers you a melon slice.

"So I'm bait." Qimir sighs, your query exhausting. He simply sips from his own drink. You notice the jounce of his throat with each gulp. How you'd love to ring to those bones, feel them crack between your fingers.

He turns to you, lips a breath away. He hasn't kissed you since that day in the lagoon. But you wish him too so very much.

This isn't the Jedi way...

What?

Qimir's fingers trace over your thighs and hips. Finally, they land heavily on your shoulders, pushing you into the rocks with zeal. He blocks the sun and you can't help but think he's lovelier than any red goliath in the macrocosm.

Qimir's teeth gnaw at your throat, kissing the blood and smearing it with his tongue. Traling open-mouth kisses to the plinth of your neck.

Your nails, rasp curiously at his back, tracing scars, tracing cortosis veins.

His fingers dig into your ribs, painting it in seastars. Kissing starlights and pearls in your bones. His body is hot, scolding. And you wonder if the minerals he surrounds himself with were all nursed in the womb of a violent volcano.

The result of destructive habits is knife bites called kisses and a heart that's finally exploded.

When he pulls off, he poises himself on his knees before falling back to his side, searching for something in the basket. You stare, dress distorted, and breath hitched. You taste the exotic fruit blend again. Burning, caramel, and coconut that linger across your body.

"Hey, can you put this on me?" reality blurs back in, he's dangling a yellow bottle in front of you. "What" he shouldn't have this ease with you. He shouldn't be playing make-believe lovers on the beach with the girl he kidnapped.

But he does.

And you play along too.

"it's sunscreen, believe it or not, I burn easily."

"No"

"please"

"N-"

You don't control your hand as it pours the cream onto his chest. He touches you with such familiarity, the force on this planet is just an extension of him. But you shy away at the thought of running your fingers across his muscle bound chest. What is the force if not a child's toy? If not another doll.

He notices the shyness. Or rather reads it from the air. His force pokes at your arms, laughing at the discomfort. Before you know it he's harbored between your thighs. Large hands holding your wrist.

Firm yet delicate.

He moves your hand over his chest, charting every bump and muscle. Coating the blocker over his skin. It feels like piecing together armor. Preparing him for a battle you've never been invited to.

You don't want this.

Well not quite.

You want to feel his body jolt under your touch and hear the sweet little quips he offers to lighten the mood. You want to capture the fleeting moment where he bites his lip and preserve it for eternity.

But more than anything you want to peel away his armor, his flesh, and bury yourself beneath. Become another one of his secrets and staying inside him. Safe and warm forever.

"Qimir"

He makes pomegranate soup that night. As he nestles your body over his lap. Kissing the half-healed bruise on your forehead. He brings the spoon to your lips and gently nudges your mind to let him in. You part your lips, welcoming him in with the shyness you've been raised on. Blushing little bride-doll.

Legacy. You realize when the seeds erupt inside your mouth.

He's feeding you his secrets, his bequest. Boiling you like the fish and the fruit. And birthing you anew.

You sleep with your head buried in the crux of his neck. Listening to the lullaby of his tattered heart, singing psalms of conquest.

That night you dream of a river red. You blame it on Qimir, the pomegranate seeds were too maroon in color and flavor.

From the crimson water the helmet surfaces. Bobbing in the waves, beckoning you. You cup your hands inside the river, guzzling down the water and licking your fingers after. You let the red kiss your lips and fill your lungs choking you by essence alone. You want to die drinking from the bloodlust. Die in front of his helmet.

So maybe he can call it love.

Or Devotion.

Or anything else equally sweet.

The river doesn't taste like pomegranates, or fruit cocktails, or iced coconut.

It tastes of salty iron, volcanic diamonds and Qimir's lips.

You plunge into the red...

He's thinking about you again. You know it from the moment you awake. His voice is loud inside your head. Reverberating from wall to wall until it is the only thing you hear.

This time the garments are waterproof. Swimwear. Two pieces in black, just black. And adorned with red trees on the seams.

Right, because you beat me in the forest.

Clever.

He has left bangles too, jagged and bruised purple with veins of white. cortosis. Accompanied by a golden necklace that looks like a beating heart, ripped freshly from someone's chest.

"You look beautiful," he remarks after you've dressed in his colors. When did he come in? You need to get better at hearing the man born from shadows. The man who's walking between worlds unseen, unheard his entire life.

He pulls you close, nails picking at the soft flesh of your tummy. Scratching skin and leaving red crescents. He kneels and licks and bites, claiming this new chart of unmarked skin.

This has always been about possession, domination, damnation. "Qimir" you moan and it feels so wrong and so right. Like saber to the heart.

Oh force, how far you've fallen.

Qimir laces his fingers with yours pulling you outside the cave. The sun shimmers off his lopsided smile and he really does glow brighter than every star in the known cosmos.

The lagoon is red.

It shouldn't be red.

"You killed them" Since when have such dire words spilled so easily from your lips? Sol, Jacki, Yord. Are they in this pool? shimmering translucent awaiting a vengeance you do not think you can deliver?

"Yes...But not your Jedi, not yet. These were just some self-pious knights who got in my way."

He brings his arm up showing you a fresh saber cut, before pulling you into the water. It's so warm boiling, lava meets water. You think your skin will peel off.

But you stand your ground. Force directing your every breath. Spine straight head high. Darkside in every way

Sith, sith, sith

You grasp at his forearm, pulling it to your lips. Your tongue finds the slit in the skin and dives it. Mapping out the muscles and drinking in the red.

Exotic fruits bled and blended.

"I think I'm finally getting through to you," Qimir says, brown pearls glazed over with pride. "My sweet little acolyte."

You giggle at the term. It tastes so bitter, like a raw espresso before dawn.

"Oh, master" you moan. As you pull him under the red waters. Lips and legs entwined.

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edenspoem · 1 year ago

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neck kissing with ellie.

gif creds: elenaxnate/tumblr. short indulgent fic :P romance/fluff.

Like a bee to nectar. Kids to sugar. Sunflowers to sunlight. Your neck is a preserved pollen: captivating, entrancing—it entrances that reddish-haired beau prancing around your kitchen searching for warmth. Branches to perch. Nooks to kiss.

Dying suns encapsulate the hours she feeds; in the evenings, devotion. At your neck, a prayer.

"Wish you'd lay the work off after dinner. Told you I'd get it," she kisses you there, too sweetly.

Cheeky prayers, muffled in your ear, and more so mundane covets. To save you trouble, is her duty. To prove her fondness, is her life's dream. And you never found your place amongst her forests to learn and understand why fleeting dreams of you are what motivated her all those years ago. First at your service, then your door, then your hands, lastly your neck.

For all you know, minds assume reason, and instinct falls short of it. Now, in the resign of autumn, reason dies, and tendency prevails. Tender tendencies.

"Why not together then?" you suggest every once in a while, and your tone curls as you do, "Dishes would get done much faster with four hands."

You fail to see it, but her eyes smile. "Because you distract me," laughingly, she says.

She isn't lying; your presence abstracts her thoughts, and the threads of what she was going to accomplish tangle and fray. Be it reading, painting, or guitar— a cacophony of silvers, oaks and water will languish her focus, and suddenly phantom imagery of you and whatever it is you're doing fills her every nerve. Contemplation departs.

But she loves to distract you more.

And because her laughs are stuffed in the crevice binding neck and shoulder, you giggle too. Not because her words are ticklish, or laughable—other days, her silly dad puns are— but because all you can feel is her mouth and her teeth and her chest to your back and everywhere her hands wander and fuck is it overwhelming. Almost facetious that she is doing it intentionally. An elaborate ruse to convince you time is worth wasting.

Her intentions lie between the fangs. Amusedly love-biting.

It fosters a slight shiver, a love-cringe. "Ellie," you weakly release, and roll your shoulders up as a way to peel her off. "That tickles.."

Don't you dare, babe.

Her nips get noisier. "'Spose to.." she insists in a whisper, laying the boundaries for her lips. They creep up, and up, leaping after your shy-away. "Do you hate this?"

"So much." you quip.

"Then it's working," her breathy giggle is hot against you, and it's contagious. A sound you want to eat and nourish from. "Will this take long?" Doubt already inhabits that antsy tone of hers. "I can't wait to show you what I found on patrol. Like, seriously can't wait."

"Can the kissing wait?"

".."

"Right."

"Shut up," her brows tweak against you, mouthing sass. "Pretend 'm not here," speech dimming, her lips lower into you once more, and find reason again. They pucker, suck, and pepper across plains of damp skin gone cold. Hungrily pulling the taste of your skin through her teeth, and down her throat; soft animalism.

It never stops—she never stops. Not for the moon, not for the sun, not for breath or silence.

"You're weird."

You can feel the evidence forming on your skin already. Phantom marks she embeds so she can admire them later. Revisit and reintroduce her tongue to them in bed.

"I know."

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gigabyte-flare · 1 year ago

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The Devil is Real (Part 1)

Summary: Your troubled older brother disappeared two years ago, vanishing without a trace; that is until one day you receive a letter from him. He’s living in Spain after having joined a religious group called Los Iluminados, his life seemingly changed for the better. He would love it if you came to visit him. Who are you to refuse an invitation from your beloved big brother, right?

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]

A/N: I want to give a shoutout to @d10nyx, who's bot heavily inspired this new series. I had been wanting to write plagas!Leon again for so long, but I wanted to do something I hadn't seen done before and my interaction with her bot planted the seed (breeding kink go brrrrrrrrrrrr). This will likely be my darkest series yet so if that's not your jam, I kindly ask that you keep scrolling. It should be noted that any of the Spanish seen in this series is either from my extremely vague recollection of the language from my youth or from Google translate, so I apologize if there's any weird grammar in any of the Spanish, it is not my intention to butcher the language.

I hope you guys like thrill rides :3

The title is inspired by Bad Things performed by I Prevail

April 22, 2008

Sis,

I apologize for this being the first time I’ve contacted you in two years, but I promise you, it was for good reason. I finally got help. I moved out to Spain to this lovely rural area called Valdelobos to live with this wonderful community called Los Iluminados. I’ve been sober for just over two years because of them. I would really love it if you came to visit, you would absolutely love it here, sis! I would love more than anything to share with you the community that has made such a huge difference in my life. I don’t have access to a computer, so you’ll have to send me a letter to reply. You can find the return address on the envelope. I eagerly await your letter!

With all my love,

Vince

You sit on your old saggy couch, gently holding the handwritten letter in your hands like it’s going to disintegrate. Your mind is in turmoil; your older brother Vincent, or Vince as most people call him, had disappeared about two years ago. He struggled with drug addiction when he reached adulthood, always chasing his next high. When you had reported him missing, police searched everywhere for him for weeks until you finally had to come to terms with the fact that he was most likely dead.

This letter, however, says otherwise.

“Who’s it from?” your boyfriend asks before sitting beside you, seeing the strained look on your face and growing concerned.

You don’t answer him at first, your eyes locked on the weathered piece of paper. Realizing your boyfriend, Mark, had asked you a question, you blink a few times and shake your head, snapping yourself out of the shocked daze.

“It’s from Vince,” you reply, looking over at Mark.

Mark looks at the paper you’re holding, then back to you, “are you sure it’s from Vince?”

“Of course I’m sure! That is definitely his handwriting. He’s alive!”

You hand the letter to Mark, who takes a moment to read the letter himself, adjusting his glasses as he does so, “he wants you to go visit. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea…” you say softly, burying your face in your hands as you continue to struggle with your emotions.

Growing up, all you had was your brother, having lost your parents at a young age. Growing up, the both of you lived with your grandparents, but they were very abusive. As soon as Vince had turned 18, he fought to become your legal guardian and the two of you moved out. Unfortunately, Vince had turned to drugs to deal with his trauma, but could you blame him? Your grandfather was especially hard on Vince; there were many nights you could remember falling asleep to the sounds of the two of them shouting and throwing things at each other.

There’s a ten year gap between you and your brother, so naturally Vince had become something of a father figure to you, especially considering you were only two when your parents had died. A car accident you had been told; hit by a drunk driver on the way home from a New Year’s party. You felt like life always dealt you a shitty hand. First your parents, then your brother. But now, your brother seems to be back and he’s ok; he’s sober. You should be happy, so why are you so conflicted?

“I’m going to do some research on this ‘Los Iluminados’ group,” you finally say before standing up from the couch to walk into your bedroom, “make sure it isn’t some Jim Jones bullshit…”

“I’ll get dinner started then,” Mark says, also standing up, making his way over to the kitchen, “I’ll holler when dinner’s ready.”

You nod at Mark before walking into the bedroom, sitting down at your desk in the corner of the room, opening your laptop and powering it on. You open up Internet Explorer and open a new Google search window, typing in Los Iluminados which unsurprisingly yielded zero results; with them not having computer access, it makes sense that there’s no trace of this group on the internet by searching their name. You then search cults in Spain and skim through the results. Again, there’s no mention of Los Iluminados anywhere. Drumming your fingers on your desk, you begin to question the letter’s legitimacy. Whoever sent it knew where you lived and that your brother had been missing for two years. No one would go through that much trouble just to prank someone.

“Babe, dinner’s ready!” you hear Mark call from the kitchen.

Letting out a sigh, you reluctantly stand up from your desk, walking out of the bedroom to join your boyfriend in the living room, who just finished putting both your plates down onto the coffee table. Laying in the middle of the living room, your 8 year old brindle English Mastiff, André, lifts his head lazily, sniffing the air upon smelling food. You can’t help but let out a chuckle as you sit down on the couch, grabbing your plate to start eating.

“Even in his old age, André has a one track mind,” Mark says, watching as the large dog gets up from the floor. Mark gently pats him on the head, “don’t you buddy?”

“He sure does,” you reply, reaching over to pat the gentle giant before returning to your meal.

“Were you able to find anything on that group in the letter?” Mark asks, looking over at you before taking a bite of food.

“Not a damn thing. Which I guess makes sense but still…” you say, your voice trailing off as you let out a heavy sigh, “something about it just doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Then we go to Spain, find out if this group is real or not and bounce if it’s just a wild goose chase,” Mark says, weaving his left hand through the air as he speaks.

“And who’s going to watch André?”

André’s big brown eyes look between the two of you, letting out a soft whimper. Mark mouths the word ‘fuck’ before taking another bite of dinner.

“Right,” Mark says quietly, giving André another pat on the head.

The two of you finish eating dinner in silence, afterwards helping each other clean up the dishes. You let Mark know that you’re going to write a response to Vince’s letter, heading back up to the bedroom to sit back at the desk, pulling out a notebook and a pencil.

May 15, 2008

Vince,

First, I just want to say I am relieved to see that you’re ok and that you’re doing better. You had dropped off the face of the earth and I couldn’t find you anywhere; I thought you were dead! I’m so incredibly glad I was wrong. And, of course, congratulations are in order for your two years of sobriety. I know that’s something you really struggled with and I’m glad this community was able to help you. Is it a religious group? I think Los Iluminados roughly translates to “The Enlightened Ones” if my vague recollection of Spanish serves me right. Regardless, I would love to come visit you and see where you’ve been living these past two years, just let me know where I need to go.

Sis

May 31, 2008

Sis,

I was so excited to see you had written back that I practically ripped the envelope open. Los Iluminados is a small religious community and, I know what you’re thinking, it’s not a cult, so you have nothing to worry about there. They’re really big on living a traditional, almost pagan-like lifestyle and for me, being able to unplug while I got better was exactly what I needed. I’m hoping after experiencing Los Iluminados yourself that you’ll feel the same. As far as getting you here goes, you’ll want to fly into Valencia Airport, we’ll come pick you up from there. Call the enclosed number once you have your flight booked and tell Maria what day you’re coming. I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Vince

You tuck the letter back in your carry on bag, leaning back in your seat on the airplane and closing your eyes. You land in Valencia Airport in less than an hour and you are doing everything in your power to keep your nerves in check and not get your hopes up. You did as Vince had asked, you called this woman named Maria and with really broken Spanish, you had told her you were flying in on June 17th. At some point you must have dozed off because you’re jolted awake when the plane lands on the tarmac.

The plane pulls into the dock and you along with the other passengers file out. You head down to baggage claim to grab your luggage; you had packed about a week’s worth of clothes since you didn’t know how long you were staying. You low key were hoping to talk your brother into coming back to the States with you, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you get there. That thought is far from your mind, however, when you get through airport security and immediately spot your brother holding a large sign with your name on it. Your mouth hangs agape as you stop in your tracks. The last time you had seen him, he was a 33 year old who looked almost 50 due to his years of drug abuse. Now? He has color in his face, he’s gained weight and actually looks healthy. His clothes are a little disheveled and covered in dirt, but he’s smiling, probably the first time you’ve seen him smile since you were children.

Dropping your luggage, you run over to your brother, throwing your arms around him and hugging him tight, tears freely flowing from your eyes as you cry out, “it’s you, you’re real! You’re alive!”

Vince tightly hugs you back, rocking you both back and forth before stepping back, smiling down at you as his hands remain on your shoulders, “look at you! All grown up; 25 has treated you nicely!”

You playfully scoff before walking back to grab your luggage, “hardly.”

You return to Vince, who then takes your luggage from you as the two of you begin to walk out of the airport, “how’s Mark? You two are still together, I take it?”

“We are! He’s doing good, he’s at home watching André.”

“André is still around? That’s nice to hear!” Vince says as the two of you walk up to a very beat up looking sedan, “here’s our luxury limousine!”

You playfully smack him with the back of your hand, “very funny, Vince.”

You watch as Vince opens the trunk of the sedan, putting your luggage inside, he looks up at you as he closes the trunk, “go ahead and get in the back seat, Sis.”

You nod in acknowledgement, climbing into the back seat, your brother joining you shortly after. An older couple sits in the driver’s and passenger’s sides of the sedan, promptly driving away from the airport once you and your brother put your seatbelts on.

“We have about a three hour drive ahead of us, you must be exhausted from your flight,” Vince says, looking over at you and giving you a warm smile.

You nod, feeling your eyes grow heavy from jet lag, however you force your eyes to stay open; you desperately don’t want to miss a single moment with your brother.

“Hey,” Vince lays a hand on your shoulder, “it’s ok, get some rest, I’ll wake you up when we get close to the village.”

“If you say so…” you reply softly.

You hesitantly let your eyes close, drifting off into a dreamless sleep. It feels like only a moment has passed when Vince shakes you awake.

“Hey Sis, we’re here!”

After getting out of the car, there was still a considerable hike until you got to the village proper. Once getting there, however, you find yourself pleasantly surprised. You weren't sure what you were expecting of a small village at the center of a religious community but what you’re seeing wasn’t it. It is a bonafide village, with actual houses, a town center, a watchtower and a large brick structure towards the back. In the distance, you can see a windmill slowly spinning. You chalk it up to the large number of documentaries you had watched on cults leading up to this trip that painted a picture in your mind of what this village would look like; the small, white cottages of People’s Temple immediately coming to mind. A part of you is glad you were wrong.

“So, what do you think?” Vince asks me, gesturing one of his hands towards the village, “this is where I’ve been these last two years.”

“It’s nothing like what I expected, it’s… honestly really peaceful,” you reply, looking around the village in awe.

You watch as several of the other villagers stop what they’re doing to look at you and your brother, an older woman over by a well giving both of you a warm smile before pulling a bucket of water up from the well.

“My house is over here,” Vince continues, pointing to one of the houses on the left before leading you towards it.

Vince’s house sits next to the watchtower, he opens the door and walks inside. Before you enter, you happen to turn around and look towards the large brick building in the back of the village. Standing at the door is someone wearing a black cloak with gold trim, underneath his clothes you can tell he’s wearing cargo pants and a tight fitting athletic shirt of some kind. But that’s not what grabs your attention; it’s his azure eyes locked on you, causing your blood to run cold.

“Vince,” you say, your voice trembling as you reach to grab his wrist, stopping him, “who is that over there?”

Vince turns to look where you’re looking, letting out a soft chuckle once he sees who you’re looking at, “him? That’s just Leon. He’s the right hand of our Lord Saddler. He’s probably here to check on things, don’t worry about him. Come inside.”

Vince practically pulls you, shutting and barring the door shut once you’re inside.

“Why are you blocking the door?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as your brother turns to face you.

“We tend to have an open door policy in the village. Where you and I haven’t seen each other for awhile, I figured it’d be best to have some privacy, wouldn’t you agree?”

You nod as you take in your surroundings. There’s a staircase leading upstairs and around the corner, a dining table and a kitchen area. Several candles are burning; they definitely don’t have electricity and running water in this village. Behind your brother is a worn couch.

“Is that where I’m sleeping?” you ask, pointing at the couch.

“Nope, you get the bed upstairs. I can live with the couch for a while. Nothing but the best for my little sis.”

“Thanks Vince,” you reply, grabbing your luggage, “I’ll bring this upstairs, then maybe we can talk. You know… catch up.”

You grab your luggage, dragging it up the stairs. You spot the bed at the end of the bannister next to a window overlooking the village center. As you’re staring out the window, you spot the cloaked man, Leon, again. He’s standing in the center of town, looking right at you. It sends a chill down your spine. You turn around and scream a little when your brother taps you on the shoulder.

“You ok? You weren’t answering me,” Vince says, his face full of concern.

“Sorry… it’s that guy. He’s right down there staring at the window,” you reply, turning to point out the window, however, Leon is gone, “oh, nevermind. It must have been my imagination.”

“He’s like… a guard dog of sorts. He’s probably just making sure you’re chill,” Vince explains, gently grabbing you by your upper arm and leading you back downstairs, “he’s like that with anyone he doesn’t know.”

“Right, of course…” you’re still uneasy, but decide to trust your brother.

“I’ll get started on dinner, have a seat at the table,” says Vince before walking over to the large wood stove, which is already aflame.

“Can I help with anything?” you ask, still standing by the table.

“No, I got it. Been doing this for two years. I can handle it. You’re the guest of honor, you just sit back, relax and let your brother take care of you.”

While your brother prepares dinner for the two of you, you make small talk, getting him caught up on the two years worth of stuff he missed. You told him about Mark and André, told him that your horrendous grandfather finally passed away a year ago; you had caught a smirk on Vince’s face before he turned his attention back to making dinner. Once dinner is finished, he sets both plates down at the table and the two of you dig in.

“Earlier you had said Lord Saddler,” you begin, taking a bite of food before continuing, “Vince… are you sure this isn’t a cult?”

Your brother bursts out laughing, reaching over to put his hand on yours to comfort you, “Lord Osmund Saddler is the patriarch of Los Iluminados and the speaker for the Holy Body. I’m not held here against my will. I promise you with every fiber of my being, this isn’t a cult, Sis.”

“I’m sorry I just… I may have watched a bunch of documentaries before coming here on cults and I just want what’s best for you, that’s all.”

Vince smiles, “Don’t worry, no one is going to drink any Kool Aid here.”

“Vince, that’s terrible!” you playfully smack him, “also it wasn’t even Kool Aid!”

You can’t help but laugh, slowly letting your mind be at ease. It’s clear your brother is happy and healthy here in this village. Before you can continue your conversation with Vince, you hear the chime of a church bell in the distance and you watch as your brother immediately stands up.

“What’s that all about?” you ask, slowly standing up.

“That is the sound of evening service. Come! I’d love for you to see one of Father Méndez’s services.”

Taking your hand, Vince unblocks the door and takes you outside. You see all the villages are filling into the large brick building you had seen Leon standing in front of earlier.

“That’s the meeting house, we have to pass through it to get to the church,” he explains to you as he leads you to follow the other villagers inside the building.

Upon walking in there is a large room, shelves of food and supplies lining the walls. In the back of the room was a large painting of a robed man; not Leon, but someone else, Vince notices you staring at the painting.

“That is our Lord Saddler. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him during your visit; he’s a wonderful patriarch, I think you’ll like him.”

There is something about the painting that unsettles you, but you can’t put your finger on it; nor do you have time to because before you know it, Vince is leading you into the adjacent room. This room has a large table lined with chairs on both sides. You both proceed around the table exiting out of the door on the other side with the other villagers. The door takes you out to a winding path which opens up to a cemetery with the church sitting just at the top of the hill.

You and your brother make your way up the hill, following the rest of the villagers into the church where you and your brother sit in one of the pews in the middle. There is an extremely tall man standing at the altar, wearing a black leather trench coat and a large brim hat. His dark beard has subtle white hairs, indicating to you that he’s much older than you and your brother. In fact, now that you think about it, you realize you and your brother are probably the youngest ones in the church.

Behind the imposing man is a large stained glass window decorated with red, blue, green and white. The white glass makes a pattern. You’re not sure what to make of it; it’s almost like a crude insect-like cross with four appendage-like parts extended out with a tail pointing downwards. Once everyone is seated in the pews, the man at the altar addresses the villagers.

“My brothers and sisters,” the man begins, his Hispanic accent thick, “before we begin tonight’s sermon, I wanted to welcome the visitor that Vincent has brought to visit our village.” The man gestures one of his hands towards us, “if you would do the honors, Vincent.”

Your brother stands up, “Gracias, Father Méndez. This is my younger sister,” he says before telling everyone your name, “she’ll be staying with me for a while, we haven’t seen each other since I first came here. I hope you all can join me in showing her what makes Los Iluminados a special community.”

The other villagers clap softly as Vince sits back down. After that, Father Méndez begins the service, which is in Spanish, so you strained your brain to try to pick up bits and pieces of what he’s saying. This doesn’t last long, however as your eye catches movement in the darkness in the back of the church. You feel your heart skip; it’s Leon again, his azure gaze once again locked on you. His expression is cold and emotionless, but there is no doubt in your mind that he is staring at you.

As if sensing your unease, your brother nudges you with his elbow and whispers, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s Leon again…” you reply, nodding your head in Leon’s direction.

Vince’s gaze follows yours, spotting Leon staring at you from the back of the church. Vince lets out a soft sigh.

“I’ll talk to Father Méndez after the service.”

For the rest of the service, you steal glances towards the back of the church, where Leon remains, still staring at you. At the end of the service, however, when you look back, Leon is finally gone, much to your relief.

Father Méndez’s booming voice draws your attention back to him, “¡Gloria a Las Plagas!”

“¡Gloria a Las Plagas!” the villagers, including Vince, repeat back.

Gloria a Las… Plagas? you think to yourself, glory to the… plague? Plagues? Pests? What? That makes no sense…

Before you can think it over further, your brother stands up abruptly, pulling you up with him.

“Pablo,” Vince says as he approaches another villager, “¿Puedes llevar a mi hermana de regreso a mi casa? Tengo que hablar con el padre Méndez.”

The man nods, “sí, claro.”

Vince turns his attention back to you, “Pablo here is going to take you back to my house while I talk to Father Méndez about Leon, ok? I won’t be long.”

“Alright, thanks Vince,” you reply as Pablo gently takes you by your upper arm, leading you out of the church.

You turn back, watching your brother approach Father Méndez before the church doors close behind you.

“Vincent,” Méndez begins as Vince approaches him, “what can I do for you, my brother?”

“It’s about Leon,” Vince says, crossing his arms, “I want him to leave my sister alone.”

“What do you mean? You do remember what you agreed to, no?” Méndez presses straightening his posture.

“I do remember, but he is scaring her. All he’s done since she got here is stare at her.”

“And? Are you saying you’re defying the will of Lord Saddler?”

“No, of course not!” Vince exclaims before lowering his voice, “but if we want any chance of her staying in Los Iluminados, he needs to chill out with the staring, ok? Is that too much to ask, Father?”

Méndez brings a hand to his beard, stroking it as he contemplates Vince’s request. After a few moments, he gently nods, “fine. I will speak with Lord Saddler on this.”

“Thank you, Father.”

She is perfect.

Leon stands at the end of the bed that you’re sleeping in, completely oblivious to his presence. Bringing his hands up, he lowers the hood of his cloak. The exposed skin on his neck and face are completely covered in inky black veins and seem to pulse under his skin. He gently crawls onto the bed, being careful not to wake you as he cages you with his body.

Leaning down so that his nose is nearly pressed against the side of your neck, he breathes in your scent deeply, opening his mouth slightly to lick his sharpened incisors with his tongue. He moves away from your neck, staring down at you as he watches your chest rise and fall gently as you slumber. Unable to help himself, he leans back down, his lips hovering above yours when he hears the unmistakable sound of the front door opening downstairs.

His head snaps towards the stairs, crawling off your bed with the grace and stealth of a panther. He brings his hood back up over his head, walking silently over to the open window at the head of the stairs where he had let himself in, climbing out and shutting the window carefully behind him, not leaving a single trace that he was even there.

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #plagas!leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove #gigabyte writes

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