#at this point they are both mentally at a very dark place but they still try to care for each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dollyyun · 1 month

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𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬' 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 (𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦)

SYNOPSIS: Jake Sim has got to be more bearable compared to the others. Unlike the rest of his frat members, Jake is friendlier, making him an approachable figure. You recall when you got lost in the campus building during your second week of college in your first year, but Jake found you wandering like a lost puppy and was kind enough to guide you to the place you needed to go. Even after three years, his kindness is engraved in your mind. So, when Jake approaches you, you have little reason to suspect that he has an ill-intention towards you, especially when you have completely fallen for his trap. How can you not? With that charming grin on his handsome countenance and how he makes you comfortable enough to be yourself around him. It’s so easy to be with Jake. Little do you know that he is every bit corruptive like the rest of the knights.

PAIRING: non!idols enha hyung line x fem!reader, jake x fem!reader

GENRE: 18+ (mdni), semi-college au, adulthood, reverse harem, dark themes.

WARNINGS: mentions of christianity, mentions of smoking, virgin & subtle fat shaming, mild bullying, sexual assault, humiliation, profanities, stalker & pervert jake, obsession, corruption, violence, yandere, blood, murder, masturbation, loss of virginity, smut, unprotected sex (no!), softdom!jake (he may be rough at times), ghostface!jake, knife play, grinding, fingering, pussy eating, cum eating, thighs slapping (jake is obsessed with your thighs), manhandling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, mention of mental illness, toxicity, jake becomes an asshole somewhere in the end, slight angst, crying, heartbreak.

WORD COUNT: 28.3k

FEATURING: enha maknae line, txt, zerobaseone, le sserafim, ive, aespa.

DISCLAIMER: this fic is inspired by devil's night series written by penelope douglas! also, i am not a Christian, and i didn't bother to do thorough research on the religion, so pardon any false facts or errors.

PART 1, PART 3.1, PART 3.2, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7

✘ SERIES MASTERLIST ✘

PLAYLIST: Often - The Weeknd, Under the Influence - Chris Brown, Meddle About - Chase Atlantic, Church - Chase Atlantic, RUNRUNRUN - Dutch Melrose, Scream - Usher, Lost in the Fire - Gesaffelstein & The Weeknd, Sinners - Ari Abdul, Cold - Maroon 5.

RUBY'S NOTE: honestly, idk what to feel about this (as always i don't feel satisfied with my writing no matter what lmao), especially the wackass smuts, so please lower your expectations. happy reading!

The smirk tugging at the corner of his plump pink lips adorns his appealing visage as well as his dark gaze, which is beguiling for anyone to heed his command at a single glance without hesitation and enthrals the sisters who are sauntering in his vicinity.

He initiates an enticing wink at the two of them, whose cheeks are emblazoned with pink as they release giggles before one of them composes herself quickly and grabs the other sister with her to walk in haste, leaving him smug at the fact that he still has an effect on ladies. Not even the holy sisters can escape from his allure. This has already been proven in the past, where he seduced two holy sisters and managed to score points when he fucked them on this very sacred ground.

Of course, they were caught engaging in illicit activity by the higher authorities of the church, resulting in the two holy sisters' dismissal from their duties and the church. But did this affect him? Not in the slightest, considering he is the son of both a diplomat and a congregant of this very church. Just like his three best friends, he can get away with anything without having to face any repercussions.

Even if his actions do earn disapproval from others, no one dares meddle in any affairs pertaining to Jake Sim.

His eyes dart around the interior of the divine building, his lips curling into a sneer. Oh, how he hates the church. Just like the rest of his family members, he is a Christian as well, and unlike them, he hates being one.

But once upon a time, he loved and used to take pride in his religion. Whenever his mother, who was a regular member of the church and still is, wanted to go to church, he would tag along with her keenly. He knew and memorised every verse of the Bible and hymns to the heart.

As a matter of fact, he used to be a good and obedient son who often steered clear of trouble or anything that might displease his parents. He even earned the moniker ‘church boy’ given by his peers, and he took pride in it. He can’t deny the fact that he sees you in him, as he was the exact person you are.

However, it all crumbled when he and his family flew over to Australia on that long summer break when he was thirteen. Maybe it was because he affiliated himself with the wrong company behind his parents’ backs, or maybe it was because he had witnessed his father’s first infidelity, in which his father was fucking some woman who eventually turned out to be his own secretary. What made it worse was the fact that it happened in a church.

Jake knew that his father had committed a sin, and naturally, Jake expected his father to make a confession and ask for forgiveness, but he didn’t expect that his father would continue to commit the same sin over and over.

From then on, Jake didn’t see his father like he used to. His hatred for his father runs so deep that the sight of his face simply enrages him. He hates it even more because his father is a pathological liar and remains a cheater without his mother knowing about his infidelity. His father’s infidelity plays a major part in the reason why he doesn’t have faith in religion anymore.

A sigh leaves him. Just as boredom nearly strikes Jake, his eyes catch the movement of two figures from afar before they zero in on the familiar face who has ignited a newfound desire within him since last night. Dark interest gleams in his eyes as he scans your overall fit.

Jake can’t deny that there is a tinge of disappointment in him when he sees that your curves cannot be discerned due to the thickness of your black coat that hugs your body as well as your wide black pants. He recalls how you looked truly exquisite in that skimpy skimpy dress that accentuated contours impeccably, and how he got hard for you twice in one night.

Truth be told, Jake doesn’t mind the slightest when a girl chooses to dress modestly or how a girl chooses to dress in general. What matters to him is that he can get them to strip off their clothes and bare naked for him before he gives them the best fucks of their lives. Even if the girl is either too thick or too thin, it doesn’t matter to him, as long as he can dick it into their holes.

His eyes trail down to your clothed chest as he tucks the bottom of his lips between his teeth. The sight of your lustrous cleavage flashes in his mind vividly, and he can already imagine how plump your breasts are. His cock starts to harden as he fantasises about leaving his marks on your porcelain skin all over your chest while his hands grope and feel the suppleness of your breasts.

Jake shakes his head lightly at the thought and attempts to ignore his hardness before returning his gaze to your face, where there is a smile on your lips while your cheeks are deepened with dimples as you are conversing with the priest.

Jake finds himself lifting a subtle smile from his lips upon seeing your smile. Throughout the university years he has known you, he has always found you adorable. Pretty? Maybe, but you were definitely adorable. Which was also the reason why he didn’t find you enticing. Plus, you often steered clear of any signs of trouble, so he also found you dull.

Jake usually targets women who can most likely match his vigour both in and out of the bedroom, women who are adventurous and perpetually up for a challenge, and who are intrinsically spontaneous and carefree. Those are his kind of women, and they are the ones who are capable of turning him on.

You are most definitely not his type of woman. Unlike those women who have associated with him in the past, you are not anything like them. You are known as Crestview Meadow’s good girl, the epitome of a perfect student whose GPA is worthy of being envious of, and the kind of student that every professor prefers to teach.

Above all, you are the embodiment of purity ─ not just in the way you carry yourself with grace and dignity everywhere you go, but because there is an ambience you exude that anyone can immediately discern the rarity of goodness within you.

But the fact that you’re good makes you dull and boring, especially when you are constantly surrounded by those friends of yours who are the renowned it girls of the university. It is absurd to him that your friends seem to be protecting you from anyone outside of their inner circle and any cruelty, almost as if they are infantilizing you.

No matter. He will get what he wants, even if he has to ruin what you have with your friends. A smirk tugs at his lips as he proceeds to saunter towards you with his hands tucked in his pocket pants. If only you knew how hypocritical your so-called friends were.

The smirk on his lips drops when he sees the priest touch your shoulder, and his lips deepen into a frown at the close proximity between the two of you. A muscle pulses in his jaw while his footsteps hasten, wanting nothing more than to rip his hand away from your shoulder.

The idea of any man touching you ignites a newfound sensation in him, and he has never felt this way towards any woman ─ those same women whom he had slept with. He recalls vividly when he saw Namgil hovering over you with his hands all over you on Devil's Night, and that was when he saw red in his vision. No one gets to touch you unless it's him.

The sound of his footsteps disrupts the conversation you have been engaging with the priest, prompting you to cease, and your head turns to look at him with widening eyes, but Jake remains his gaze on the priest, and a cold smile touches his lips.

“Father, it’s been more than awhile.” Jake greets, the coldness emanating from him is discernible to you. His eyes dart at the priest’s hand that remains on your shoulder, and the familiar whisper of the devil is encouraging him to break his hand for daring to touch what is his.

“Jake, what a pleasant surprise!” The priest, however, is oblivious to the malicious intent glinting in Jake’s eyes. “How is your mother?”

“She’s doing well.” The lie easily rolls off his tongue. He hasn’t even been checking on his mother, not that she cares enough or whatsoever.

Jake shifts his gaze to you, who is staring at him with indecipherable sentiment glinting in your pretty eyes that nearly mesmerised him. He offers you a smile. “Y/N. I didn’t know you were a regular member of this church.”

Another lie. He knows everything about you, including that you used to visit this church whenever you had free time. He knows that you used to attend church in your neighbouring area regularly, and he knows that you live in a relatively small two-story house, which is rather homey compared to his family’s mansion. He knows your birth date, your favourite colour, and basically any sort of information he wants to find out about you. It took him a span of weeks, and that includes quasi-stalking you even now.

Jake admits that he has grown obsessed with you despite the fact that you are not his ideal type, even before Devil's Night, and there are moments where he fantasises about you even when he doesn't want to.

Jake is curious about you, and his curiosity was sparked long before Devil’s Night. He wants to learn and explore you ─ what makes you different from the others and why there is goodness in you—because he doesn’t believe that there is goodness in this corrupted world. So, he began the process of obtaining information from certain individuals and observing you keenly from afar. He was seamless at it, to the point where you didn’t even realise how often his eyes were on you.

Above all, Jake wants to experiment on you with the intention of dimming that light inside of you, wanting to intoxicate you in a way you won’t even see it coming.

His eyes briefly flicker down at the familiar ring on your forefinger that glimmers under the artificial lights above the ceiling. He knows that it’s not his for the taking, even though he will be the first to take you to his bed soon.

His gaze returns to yours, and he watches as you blink your eyes, looking a tad surprised, as though you had expected him to disregard your existence. “I’m not. I visit whenever I’m available.” You tell him with an awkward smile gracing your pink lips. “Are you one as well?”

Your soft voice as well as your politeness are something he has always admired, and kindness is one of your qualities that has always remained constant even when others treat you unkindly.

Before he can answer, the priest beats him to it, “Jake is my good friend’s son, but I always refer to him as my nephew, as I knew him when he was young.” The priest gives Jake a warm smile.

A flicker of surprise passes by in your eyes. “Oh, I see. What a small world.” You say, smiling softly and darting your eyes back to Jake. “I’ll get going first. See you around on campus, Jake.”

“Of course.” Jake reciprocates your smile, to which your eyes flicker briefly at his lips that don’t go unnoticed by him, before you proceed to walk away while clutching the strap of your sling purse.

A frown touches his lips when he notices how you limp as you advance forward, even though you look like you're trying your best not to give away the fact that you're limping.

Jake remains rooted to the ground, his eyes watching your figure get further until you disappear from his sight.

“What did she come here for?” Jake inquires with the priest. There are no traces of warmth in his tone, while something dark shadows his features.

The priest flattens his lips before sighing. “You know that I can’t disclose any information─”

“Need I remind you that the reason this church remains standing is because of the funds my mother made?” Jake reminds him calmly, and yet his tone sounds sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “I can easily withdraw those funds, and my mother wouldn’t bat an eye.”

The priest knows well that Jake has the power to do so, and so the elder acquiesces. “She came here to confess her sins.”

Jake raises a single eyebrow at him. “And what were her sins?”

Reluctance resides in the priest as well as the guilt that feels heavy in his heart, but he doesn’t wield enough power to defend himself against the affluent son of his good friend. “I think you have an inkling, son. Surely, you must’ve known she was there during Devil’s Night.”

“Maybe I do.” Jake unfurls a smirk at the priest before patting his shoulder. “Thank you for your service, Father.” The mockery Jake elicits doesn’t go unnoticed by the priest, but the elder smiles weakly in return.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Your phone buzzes as it vibrates on the table for the ninth time, and you don’t bother to spare a glance at your phone screen, knowing that it is either Yunjin, Wonyoung, or Karina. You haven’t been meeting them eye-to-eye since two days ago, and even if they asked you questions, you only gave them vague answers in a curt tone before fleeing your dorm in haste.

After what happened, you started seeing them in a different light. You can’t help but feel uncomfortable around them, and specifically, Yunjin. Although it has been three days since Devil’s Night, the overall events that transpired remain vivid in your mind, unable to erase them.

As for Kazuha, Winter, and the others, you remain amiable with them as usual, but you keep a safe distance between yourself and them, and even they notice your eccentric behaviour that differs from how you usually are. You need some time to collect your thoughts and deal with this internal conflict within yourself.

You did feel better and lighter, though, after confessing your sins to Father. You have been pardoned, and that’s what matters most. You don’t intend to revert to how you acted on Devil’s Night.

Speaking of Devil’s Night, despite the fact that it is over, Halloween isn’t. Hence, there are Halloween ornaments embellished on every part of the campus building. You got to give credit to the knight members, who were in charge of the decorations. Their budget seemed to be higher than last year’s, as evident from the overall decorations, and there are even knight members in spooky costumes strolling out and about while scaring off the students, eliciting screams from them.

Nevertheless, amidst the sombre atmosphere, the merriment, jovial laughter, and chatter from the students are palpable. It is abundantly clear that they genuinely enjoy Halloween, and that bothers you greatly because they don’t seem the slightest mournful over the deaths of twenty-two students ─ three students whom you recognise from your department.

You didn’t exactly know them in the way you know your friends, but still, you are sorrowful over their deaths. How cruel was it to be hunted and killed by those delinquents when they didn’t commit any wrongdoing? What did they do to deserve to die? Or was it all just pure entertainment for those notorious delinquents?

A shrill scream as well as laughter erupting from the other side, across from where you are seated, prompts you to look at the commotion briefly before returning to minding your own business with an eye roll. Just another bunch of students feigning feeling terrified of the knight members scaring them.

Your face twists into a grimace. There is definitely something fundamentally wrong with everyone here, you think.

Presently, you are in the students’ lounging area that is situated between the two different buildings that belong to the students under the social science and science technological engineering departments. Usually, you would resort to the campus library to do your assignments or some reading, but today you felt compelled to do your work here for some reason, even though you dislike the boisterous commotion that often happens in the lounging area.

The commotion in the background eventually fades out. You continue to type away on your keyboard while your gaze remains on your laptop screen, getting immersed in finishing the final assignment that you have neglected since last week. The submission deadline is by the end of today, but the assignment is a piece of cake for you.

The tension in your shoulders relaxes as soon as you save the document to your file before opening a webpage on your Google Chrome with the intention of submitting your assignment to the school’s portal under your department.

As soon as you click submit, you jolt in your seat, and a shriek of terror emits from you when two students in ghostface masks emerge at your side, frightening you with sonorous ‘boos!’ while holding serrated knives in their gloved hands.

Another thing about this university that you deem absurd is the fact that they allow authentic weapons to be in students’ possessions for this period of Halloween, for as long as there are no casualties.

Your shriek draws the attention of students in your vicinity, causing your cheeks to flush in embarrassment. The unknown ghostfaces erupt into jeering laughter, clearly finding pure delight in frightening you greatly.

You glare at them in disbelief while you attempt to soothe your heart that is beating erratically against your chest, and for once, you want to lash out at them for their inane prank, but as they proceed to remove their ghostface masks, you smack your lips together shut, knowing better than to rebuke the knight members.

You recognise them. Matthew and Gyuvin from the social science department. Even though they’re your juniors by a year, they don’t really respect their seniors, let alone you. Besides, you’re deemed an easy target for most, and now that you’re alone without any of your friends by your side, it makes things easier for anyone to approach you with ill-intention.

“Did you see the horror on her face?” Matthew cackles, slapping Gyuvin’s shoulder. “That was comical!”

Gyuvin chuckles as he wipes an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. “We should definitely scare her often.”

“That wasn’t funny.” You utter those words before you can even stop yourself. Your remark seems to capture their attention, and for some reason, you gain a newfound confidence in resolution. “In fact, scaring others for your own enjoyment is simply inconsiderate and lazy.”

“Lazy?” Gyuvin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He gives his fellow member a look. “Can you believe her?”

“Yes. Lazy.” You reiterate, glaring at them, but your voice remains soft all the while. “Also, you could’ve injured a student with how careless you were holding your knives─”

“What do you even know about pranks?” Matthew takes a threatening step towards you, resulting in you recoiling in prudence upon noticing the menace he exudes, as evident on his mien. “You know nothing about pranks. All you know is being a goody-two shoes and kissing professors’ asses.”

You hold back an offended gasp, but the distaste you have for them is evident in your eyes, which doesn’t go unnoticed by them. “And you wonder why everyone hates you. You might have a pretty face, but that doesn’t erase the fact that you are a fucking loser who doesn’t know how to have fun.” You refuse to allow Gyuvin’s demeaning words to get to you.

“Plus, she’s probably still a virgin.” Matthew cackles, high-fiving Gyuvin, while you wallow in humiliation. “That explains why she’s insufferable. No one wants to fuck a virgin, let alone a Catholic girl like her.”

Their remarks appear to have attracted the attention of the students in your vicinity, and just as you expected, chuckles and degradation emanate from them directed at you.

Despite their cruelty demoralising your high spirit while your cheeks flush in humiliation, you feel a newfound resentment towards them, with your hand forming into a fist at your side. There is no denying that you are indeed a virgin, but you feel proud of being one.

Besides, your mother used to emphasise how crucial it is for you to safeguard and embrace your chastity. Heeding your mother’s words, you cherish and protect your virginity for the one who is destined to be your soulmate. Hence, you were given a silver ring that latches around your forefinger on your seventeenth birthday, and the ring symbolises purity.

Of course, you took pride in it, subtly flaunting your purity ring everywhere you go, but now that their demeaning words have finally gotten to you, you can’t help wondering if being a virgin plays a major part in why no guys have approached you with the intention of getting you in their bed and additionally makes you unlikeable.

You lower your head, completely disheartened, and you want nothing more than to disappear from their sight while their jeering laughter continues to taunt you.

“Ah!”

A loud thud causes you to jolt in surprise with your head now raised, and the sight of Matthew’s face being side-planted on the surface of the table shocks you before your eyes trail to the person who has him pinned on the table with one hand on his back and the other on the table at the side of his head, locked by his strong grips.

The person you definitely don't expect to see. Jake Sim.

You know that Jake would be strolling out and about around here since he is a computer science major, and you always come across his path. Most of the time, he would give you a brief smile before resuming to talk with his friends or even flirt with girls in the hallway.

By now, the students in your vicinity have quietened by his arrival . Jake’s presence alone is domineering enough to silence them.

“So this was what the two of you have been doing instead of resuming your respective duties.” Jake states calmly, but you are not oblivious to the way his jaw clenches while his deadly grips on Matthew elicit a yelp from the latter. “You were meant to bring fright upon your peers and not humiliate them, but here you are, lazing around.”

“We were! Really!” Gyuvin asserts, and you notice how apparent the nervousness is in his voice.

“H-He’s right!” Matthew stammers out as he makes an attempt to struggle in Jake’s grasps.

“First, you insulted and humiliated a lady. Now, you have the audacity to lie to my face?” Jake’s tongue hits the roof of his mouth, and the corner of his lips curves into a smirk that sends you shivers down your spine upon seeing how pissed-off he is, but you can’t deny that he looks oddly attractive.

“As your house leader, I expected better from both of you.” Jake continues to speak calmly, but all the while, he has yet to release Matthew. You flinch lightly when Jake’s eyes meet yours briefly before he looks at his knight's members. “Apologise to her.”

“S-Sorry.” Matthew manages to utter, but even you can discern the insincerity in his tone.

With ease, Jake raises him just slightly before slamming him down on the surface of the table once more, eliciting a painful yelp from the latter. “Sorry who?” Jake nearly growls out his words, sending you another shiver.

In all honesty, you could care less about getting an apology from these jerks, but seeing Jake in this light genuinely shocks you. More importantly, why is he defending you in your honour?

“I’m sorry, Y/N! I won’t insult you again!” Matthew rambles out, the fear for his house leader is more than apparent, which brings a pleased smirk from the latter.

“Yes, we’re so sorry!” Gyuvin even bows to you, clutching his ghostface mask.

“The next time I catch you insulting and humiliating any lady, I won’t let it pass so easily.” Jake says sternly before finally releasing Matthew, who wastes no time retrieving his ghostface mask and his knife from the table, fleeing your table with Gyuvin.

“What are you guys looking at?” Jake’s sharp tone causes the students in your vicinity to look away from your table as they resort to minding their own business.

When Jake’s gaze finally lands on your face, you catch the way his eyes soften and the scowl on his lips flatten. “I’m sorry about them. Are you okay?”

You blink your eyes, clearly taken aback by his duality. You ignore how your heart flutters just slightly at his soft voice as well as his gentle demeanour.

“I’m fine, Jake.” You tell him, your voice wavering subtly as you muster a small smile at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course, I had to.” Jake says, looking offended as though he were the one who had been humiliated instead of you. “I taught them better than to insult and humiliate a lady. Such conduct is unacceptable to the House of North.”

You can’t help but acquiesce and give him a smile that shoots a cupid arrow to his tainted heart, especially your dimples that he wants to poke his finger in. “Thank you.”

A smile is adorned on his face, and you hold back an endearing chuckle at how sheepish he looks, almost resembling a golden retriever puppy. “Anytime, Y/N.”

As the two of you continue to gaze at each other with sheepish smiles, familiar voices belonging to your best friends echo in the walls of your mind, reminding you of their warning to steer clear of the knights, specifically their leaders. But you ignore those warnings inside your head.

Sure, you have no intention to attract the attention of the other leaders, but this is Jake ─ the guy whose kindness has long since been embedded in your mind. You find it hard to dislike him, even though you are aware of his reputation on campus as a womaniser.

You recall when you got lost in the campus building during your second week of college in your first year three years ago, trying to find your way to the auditorium. That was when Jake found you wandering around like a lost puppy, and he was kind enough to guide you to the place you needed to go without hesitation and even engage in a short, pleasant conversation with you.

Yeah, the Jake you danced intimately with on Devil’s Night should have given you a reason to stay away from him, but you don’t have the heart to do that, especially when he had just defended you in your honour. Plus, to you at least, Jake is undoubtedly amiable, making him an approachable figure unlike the rest of his fraternity members.

Hence, you have decided to lower your guards around him, but then comes the awkwardness after the realisation that you have been gazing at him with a stupid smile on your face.

You break eye contact with him and scratch the back of your head awkwardly. “So, I guess I better get going─”

“Listen, I’ve been wanting to apologise to you.” Jake cuts you off, inviting himself to settle down across from you.

Confused, you stare at him with a single eyebrow arched. “Why are you apologising?”

Jake rubs his nape sheepishly. “For touching and kissing you without consent when we were dancing last Friday night.”

Just like that, a specific memory runs through your mind, and you recall the sensation of his touch that left you wanting more of him.

“It’s okay. I understand that we were tipsy and in the heat of the moment.” You tell him reassuringly, giving him a small smile. “I should be apologising as well for my improper behaviour.”

Jake holds back a chuckle. Oh, how wrong you were. He was not the slightest tipsy, but he can’t let you know that.

“How was your first ever Devil’s Night?” He asks, striking up a conversation with you and hoping that it will continue on.

Truthfully, your voice sounds pleasant to hear. You’re soft-spoken, complementing your disposition, and whenever you converse with anyone who reciprocates your kindness and the ones who obviously like you, you try your best to maintain appropriate eye contact while listening attentively to them and giving your opinions or remarks if needed. That makes them want to continue speaking to you, and that’s what Jake feels about you. He can listen to you talking for hours, and he wouldn’t get sick of it.

On the other hand, you feel hesitant about whether or not you should answer his question with full honesty because, firstly, he’s one of the leaders, and he was obviously in charge of Devil’s Night. Secondly, you don’t want to offend him by letting him know that it was the worst night you ever had, and you never want to relive that night ever again.

But being a people-pleaser, you resort to giving him white lies as your lips curve into a small smile. “I had the time of my life. You guys were amazing and really outdid yourselves. I can definitely understand the hype behind Devil’s Night from most of the students here.”

You hope that Jake won’t detect your lies, but all the while, your stomach twists with something unpleasant as you speak those words. You even held yourself back from telling him that his fraternity and the rest of the students were downright mental for enjoying Devil’s Night.

Thankfully, Jake seems to believe your white lies and gives you a charming grin that sends another flutter to your beating heart. “I’m glad to hear that you enjoyed it.”

Little did you know that Jake knew you meant the opposite of what you said. After all, he had seen the genuine horror on your face and your vulnerability firsthand, considering he and his comrades were hunting you down.

As his eyes rake over your delicate features, he grins cunningly in the back of his mind. Oh, how he desires to see your pretty eyes glistening and tears streaming down your smooth cheeks as he inflicts horror upon you, resulting in you running away from him while he chases after you.

"So, what’s your favourite horror movie?” The interest gleaming in his brown eyes is one of the reasons why you want to continue the conversation with him, aside from the fact that he is practically staring at you like a puppy wanting a treat.

“I’m not a fan of horror movies, but I guess the Scream movie?” You answer unsurely, shrugging your shoulders. “My friends forced me to watch with them since they’re big fans.”

This time, Jake’s interest grows tenfold. He leans his body slightly forward while his lips are curved into a grin. “But did you like them?”

“Kind of?” You answer, and you feel warmth weaving across your cheeks at the intensity of his gaze on your face. Feeling conscious, your fingers make their ascent to the silver cross pendant resting delicately on your chest to fiddle with it. “I mean, the movie was definitely interesting, and I liked the plot, but surprisingly, I wasn’t scared. If anything, I felt grossed out by the amount of bloodshed.”

The way you scrunch your nose is so endearing to him that he itches to lean forward to peck the tip of your nose, but of course, he can only afford to fantasise as always.

“Sorry.” Your cheeks flush delicately in pink as awareness slaps you at how much of a yapper you suddenly become. “I must be rambling by now. You probably wouldn’t want to hear me talk so much.”

“Actually, I do.” A tinge of softness is in his eyes, as is the soft smile unfurling on his plump pink lips. “Has anyone ever told you how pleasant you sound?”

“No.” You answer, your face contorting into confusion, to which he finds you adorable, especially when you tilt your head slightly to one side.

“Then let me be the first one to tell you. You sound really pleasant to hear.” His smile shoots cupid arrows into your heart. “I like listening to you talk, and if you could talk all day, I would be there by your side to listen to you.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.” You murmur, your eyes zeroing on his pretty lips, and you swear they look and feel soft. The very same lips touched your skin last Friday night.

“No, I’m not. I meant what I said.” His countenance shifts into something serious, almost knocking the breath out of you upon the dark glint in his eye. “If anyone says otherwise, then their hearing must be impaired.”

“Jake!” A familiar voice calls for Jake, which you recognise. You look at the side, spotting Sunghoon and Riki from across the building as they wave at Jake, beckoning him to come over.

You turn your head to face him. “Your friends are calling for you─”

Your breath hitches in your throat when he grabs your hand and holds it tenderly. Your heart flutters as you watch him raise your hand to plant a gentle kiss on your knuckles. The sensation of his soft, plump lips still lingers on your skin, even when he withdraws.

His thumb caresses the back of your hand, sending you tingles, while his brown eyes captivate you in a way that is impossible for you to look away from. “Before I go, can you promise me one thing?”

“What is it?” You ask in a murmur, getting lost in the depths of his eyes, which are swimming with sentiments you can’t decipher.

“If anyone messes with you, even the slightest, let me know, alright?”

A look of confusion furrows your brows. “But─”

“Promise me, love.” He cuts you off sternly, but the tinge of softness remains in his tone that compels you to nod your head, earning a small smile from him. “Good. I’ll see you around soon, yeah?” His low husk at the end sends a foreign sensation through you.

“Okay, Jaeyun.” You say softly without realising that you don’t mean to accidentally call him by his Korean name.

His eyebrow arches attractively at his Korean name, which feels heavenly from your mouth, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he shoots you a smirk, sending one last flutter to your heart.

He rises from his seat and proceeds to leave the table, but not before winking at you. “Goodbye for now, sweet angel.” His smirk remains on his canvas before he turns around and saunters towards his friends.

Sweet angel.

Those two words instantly remind you of the masked men on Devil’s Night, and you begin to wonder if Jake was one of your predators on that night.

“No, he couldn’t be.” You mutter to yourself as you slowly close your laptop.

There is no way Jake could be any of those four masked men that preyed on you. The same charming Jake, whose duality never fails to impress you, simply couldn’t be any of them. Sure, he’s one of their leaders, but there is absolutely no way he was capable of being one of Kim Namgil’s murderers.

As you pack your belongings into your bag, you fail to notice the wicked glint in his heavenly brown-hued eyes earlier.

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Your last class ended at six, but instead of heading straight back to your dorm, you went to the cafe down the street nearby the campus to do some reading and studying for your finals while indulging your cravings for the delectable pastries.

You didn’t want to head back to your dorm since you weren’t ready to face your best friends, and you really didn’t want to deal with them, especially after reading all of their texts in which they spammed you relentlessly and even tried calling you. You have a feeling that you’ll be barraged with questions demanding explanations for your abrupt detachment.

A part of you feels guilty for it, knowing that your best friends have always been there for you, even when the rest of their peers often question why they befriended someone who has no status, rank, or abundance of wealth like them.

A sigh leaves your lips as you shake your head lightly before pushing open the door, making your exit out of the cafe establishment. You glance down at your phone screen and notice that the time has struck eight p.m. You should be heading back now, but instead, you decide to take a nightly stroll to clear the remnants of the fog in your head.

The nightly breeze is in your hair with each step you take, ambling on the pavement while your surroundings are in a blur as you go into unfocused mode. Just then, your mind drifts off to Jake Sim.

The moment his face and his charming grin appear in your head, a soft smile unfurls on your pink lips. There is no denying that you do find him attractive and sometimes cute, but truth be told, his kindness was what made you have a crush on him three years ago.

Yes, you had a crush on him, but it only lasted for a while when you found out he was a womaniser. You recall the jealousy brimming in your veins whenever you saw him with different girls clinging to his arm every week. You knew that he wouldn’t bat an eye at you, especially after all the unpleasant words that were spoken about you and circulated on campus.

Most of the students dislike you not because you’re a good girl but because of your status rank and the fact that you do not hail from an affluent background.

Approximately 96% of the students in Crestview Meadow’s hail from affluent families and are literally Chaebols who wield authority and power the same way as their parents’ do.

Crestview Meadows students are extremely privileged. Not only does the university provide a top-tier higher learning institution compared to any other universities across Sokor, but they also truly accommodate the students’ wants and needs.

For instance, there are massive, tall, and wide apartment complexes that are designed exclusively for students whose homes are far from the campus, also known as the dormitory. It is within a five-minute walk from the enormous, upscale campus. Undoubtedly, the cost of paying for the rent is higher and greater than that of a condominium, especially when there are amenities for the students.

Obviously, money is never an issue for most of the students enrolling at this university, considering the unfathomable wealth they wield. Some do take their wealth and high statuses for granted, but you, on the other hand, feel extremely grateful for not getting yourself into a heavy debt as you have earned numerous scholarships and the university recognises your effort in terms of academics.

Hence, it is one of the reasons why you are driven and motivated to work hard and maintain your perfect GPA of 4.0.

The commotion of manly laughter shatters your moment of solitude, prompting you to look to the side just for your eyes to widen at the sight of a bunch of familiar faces. Your eyes briefly glance at the establishment before you finally notice that they have emerged from a bar.

You stand frozen, as though seeing them paralyses your whole being. Your eyes instantly meet Sunghoon’s, whose smile transitions to a sneer while a familiar sentiment glints in his eyes. Hatred.

“Y/N, hey!” Sunoo’s voice pulls you away from staring into Sunghoon’s dark eyes any longer. You are taken aback by the blond-haired male’s friendliness as he approaches you with a gleeful grin. You refuse to believe that this is the same guy who was part of Devil’s Night.

“What brings you here?” Sunoo asks, speaking to you in a way that makes you feel as though he is an old friend of yours. “Wait. Don’t tell me that you’re here to have a drink.” Sunoo feigned a shocked gasp. “What happened to the good girl Y/N we know and love?”

You can only afford to chuckle awkwardly, unsure of how to act, and all the while, their gazes on you render you conscious of the way you look.

A barrage of questions are on your mind, wondering if you look okay or ridiculous.

Your fashion sense has always been praised by your girls, and it also elevates your confidence. Your wardrobe mostly consists of either beige, white, black, or pink clothing. Some days you wear skirts that reach above your knees, while other days you wear pants.

Today, you decided to wear a flared beige skirt and a white tee that is tucked in with a short beige jacket complementing your overall fit, as well as white thigh-high socks that conceal your skin. Your friends have made comments about your thigh-high socks being unnecessary since they want you to flaunt your smooth skin, but of course you refused.

Now, you can’t help but wonder what they think of you as they stare at you. Do they also think that you’re a ridiculous Catholic girl the way the others do?

“You’re scaring her, Sunoo.” Jungwon chides, shoving his shoulder against Sunoo’s.

When your eyes meet Jungwon’s feline-like eyes, you are reminded of the night when he captured Wonyoung and his warning directed at you. You have an inkling that the hickeys on Wonyoung’s neck were his marks.

“Come on, we’re wasting time here.” Sunghoon grumbles as he walks past you, and you swear you can feel the coldness emanating from his body.

Riki disregards your existence as he heads for his bike, which is parked by the curb alongside the others’. Jungwon sends you a wink while Sunoo casts you another gleeful smile before they proceed on towards their bikes.

You manage to catch Heeseung’s fleeting gaze on your face, and when you turn your head fully to look at him, he is swift to avoid your gaze and advances towards his bike with a cool demeanour.

“Hey, angel.” Jay takes you by surprise by standing close to you, almost knocking the breath out of you with the combo of his strong cologne and cigarette smell emanating from him. As you glance up to meet his dark, lustrous gaze, he gives you his signature smirk that makes anyone fall for him.

“Missed me?” Jay asks you in a seductive lull as he raises his hand to brush the fallen strands from your face, but you back away from him immediately. “Come on, baby. You weren’t like this last Friday night when you danced with me.” He remarks with mockery that you narrow your eyes at.

Just as you are about to speak, Heeseung’s voice interrupts you, and for once, you are thankful to him. “Let’s go, Jay.”

“Always the one to ruin my fun, Heeseung.” Jay heaves a sigh and makes his way to his bike, but not before casting you another smirk that has a clear intent of suggestiveness.

You watch as Riki, Sunoo, and Jungwon speed off ahead, followed by Sunghoon and Jay. Heeseung seems to be taking his time, and when his eyes meet yours, an indecipherable sentiment dances in his eyes before he pulls down the dark visor and proceeds to speed off with his engine blaring.

You sense his presence from behind you, and his figure is nearly looming over yours. His hot breath fans the shell of your earlobe before he greets you in a soft tone with that husky voice of his. “So we meet again, lovely.”

Your heart nearly lurches in your chest upon seeing how close he is to you, and you swear you can feel his body heat. As you turn around to face him, the smell of smoke fills your nostrils.

“I had no idea you smoked.” You point out politely, your lips pressing thinly. You actually hate the unpleasant smell of smoke.

The smile on Jake’s lips falters upon noticing the expression on your face. “Oh, no, I don’t smoke.” He tells you with the utmost sincerity. “It was theirs, but I swear I don’t smoke.” Even he has no idea why he is affirming with such earnestness.

You nod your head in understanding. Even if he does smoke, it isn’t in any of your business anyway.

“Where were you from?” Jake asks, tilting his head slightly to one side while curiosity sparkles in his eyes.

“I was from the cafe down the street and decided to take a nightly stroll.” You tell him. “What about you? Isn’t it unwise to drink on a school night?”

Jake’s smile curls into a grin as he takes a step forward. “Are you worried for me?”

Your eyebrows pull together. “Yeah, I mean, don’t you have classes tomorrow? Plus, you’re driving.”

“You’re so fucking adorable.” He whispers huskily while your eyes widen in shock at the sudden shift in his demeanour. His eyes meet yours with an indecipherable intensity. “Don’t worry about me, lovely. I drank a little, but I have a high alcohol tolerance.”

“If you say so.” You say before taking a step back. “Just drive safely, okay?”

“Ride with me.” He says so firmly that there is no room for objections.

Your eyes divert to his sleek black bike, and you begin to feel wary. “I don’t know….I’ve never rode a bike before, so I’m a little scared.”

“Don’t be.” Jake grabs your hand without any hesitation and gives it a tender squeeze while his soft, brown eyes are pulling you into him. “As long as you hold on tight to me, you’ll be fine. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Jake─”

“I need you to trust me, love.” Jake cuts you off firmly, but his grasp on you remains tender. “Trust me, yeah?” He whispers, and you can’t help but to nod your head.

The next thing you know, he is assisting you with his helmet while you stand in front of him, your eyes staring at his pink plump lips in awe upon the close-up.

“Does it feel too tight?” He asks you, causing you to look into his eyes.

You shake your head, but frown at the realisation. “What about you? It’s dangerous for you to be riding without a helmet.”

“Lovely, you should really stop worrying about me.” He chuckles breathily before guiding you to his bike, which you have trouble mounting due to how high it is.

You become startled when he places both hands on your waist to lift you with ease as you mount his bike. You struggle a little to balance yourself, and when he mounts his bike in front of you with ease, you latch your arms around his waist without any hesitation.

You feel his body visibly tensing before he relaxes and proceeds to switch on the ignition. You ignore the way your breasts are pressed against his back, and you hope he doesn’t mind it.

“Hold on tight, lovely.” Jake reminds you once more over his shoulder before he takes you by surprise at the abrupt blare of his engine as he drives off.

You close your eyes while tightening your arms around him, your heart beating fast at the speed as the two of you ride against the vindictive wind. He is going at such an insane speed that you swear it is as though he is in a racing competition.

Finally, you dare yourself to flutter your eyes open, and when you do, you no longer feel the trepidation coursing through your veins. Your eyes sparkle with awe as you manage to catch glimpses of the gorgeous city lights. Although you no longer fear riding a bike, your arms remain tight around his waist.

But soon you realise that he is not heading in the direction of your dormitory. “Where are you taking me?” You raise your voice so he can hear you better over the wind.

“Somewhere.” His answer doesn’t satisfy you, yet you choose not to ask any more questions. But the smirk in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Call me Jaeyun from now instead.”

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The familiar sight of the golden gate opening automatically greets your sight before he accelerates forward, while you are rendered gobsmacked by the fact that Jake has brought you to the very place where Devil’s Night commenced.

When your eyes sweep over the magnificent palace, you shudder lightly as the events that transpired on that dreadful night play in your mind like a film. Soon, you find yourself entering a massive garage that is equivalent to the biggest living room in the palace, with different vehicle models arrayed impeccably, leaving you in awe.

“Careful.” Jake murmurs to you as he holds you against him at the moment you dismount, resulting in you nearly stumbling forward due to the imbalance and how your ankle throbs familiarly with subtle pain, but thankfully, it is healing rapidly.

“Sorry.” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he assists you by removing the helmet from your head and adjusting your tousled hair with a touch of gentleness.

“Thank you.” Your sincerity sends a foreign sensation through him while his eyes meet yours. Soon, a frown touches your lips. “But why exactly did you bring me here?”

“To have fun, of course.” He casts you a grin before beckoning you to follow him, and you do, allowing him to guide you to the door that leads into the palace while you take a brief glance at the garage once more.

“Fun?” You repeat it in incredulity.

His melodious chuckles ring through your head. “Fine. I brought you here because I wanted to hang out with you.” He tells you, and you detect sincerity in his tone. “Plus, I do enjoy your company.”

“If you wanted to hang out with me, you could’ve asked me tomorrow instead.”

“Well, the opportunity was there earlier, so I couldn’t miss it.” He gives you a side glance. “Besides, you looked like you needed something to ease your mind.”

Surprise flickers in your gaze. “I do, actually.”

“Then I’m your man for the night.” His breathy chuckles erupt the butterflies in your tummy. “So, what do you want to do?”

You open your mouth to speak, but an uproar comes from the second floor, prompting you to look up with bewildered eyes. “The others are here?” You ask him, and that is when you finally realise the familiar bikes in the garage earlier that belong to those delinquents.

“Yeah, but don’t mind them.” He says, rolling his eyes.

“Then you should join them instead. You don’t need me to keep you company.”

“But I'd rather be with you, lovely.” He murmurs, catching you off guard when he tugs at your wrist, pulling you closer to him with his hand making its ascent to cradle the cusp of your jaw.

Your breath catches in the back of your throat as his eyes zero in on yours, while each stroke from his thumb on your smooth cheek intensifies the butterflies in your tummy.

This time, you dismiss another commotion coming from above as you are busy getting mesmerised by his dark gaze that holds tumultuous sentiments, yet it seems to be luring you in, enticing you to explore the darkness within him.

“What do you want to do?” He asks softly, still not releasing you.

You ignore a small voice that is imploring you to push him away. “What do you have in mind?”

“Trust me. You wouldn’t want to know, lovely.” His lips curve into a smirk before he drops his hand from your cheek, but his fingers remain latched around your wrist as he pulls you with him. “I’m sure you haven’t had the chance to explore the palace, but first, I want to bring you to our private cinema.”

As Jake drags you with him, heading towards the elevator, your eyes widen as you feel astounded at the fact that this palace has its own cinema, and subsequently, you begin to wonder what else is there in this very palace. You definitely won’t be surprised if there are hidden passages somewhere here.

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One thing is certain: you regret agreeing to watch Scream with him.

Your eyes are trained on the large screen, and your face contorts into a grimace when the victim’s blood is oozing from the terrible wound.

A wince leaves your lips while you find yourself instinctively burying your head into his shoulder with your fingers clutching at the hems of his top. You attempt to drown out the noise of the victim’s cries and pleas as well as the eerie sound effect that reverberates throughout the private cinema that is equivalent to the width of that of a public cinema.

Jake turns his head to glance down at you. A chuckle emits from him as he finds you adorably endearing with how often you have attempted to use him as your shield whenever the gory parts of the movie play on the screen.

“I recall a certain someone telling me in confidence that she wasn’t afraid of watching the movie.” Jake drawls his words out, his lips remaining a smirk as you slowly raise your head to meet his eyes that hold such mischief.

In return, you can only afford to chuckle nervously. You can’t let him know that the reason you’re afraid is because your mind would always drift to the terrible events on Devil’s Night whenever the gory part of the movie came up. Moreover, your skin is crawling with disquietude the longer you’re in this very palace.

Yes, the palace looks magnificent, but you can discern the foreboding atmosphere that sends you involuntary chills every now and then. A part of you is telling you that the moment Jake brought you inside, you ought to be wary and apprehensive of your safety.

“Can we watch something else?” You murmur to him, still clinging to his arm, though not as awkwardly as you did earlier. You remain facing him, but your eyes are crestfallen with your head lowered, allowing the strands of your hair at the side to fall.

“Why? I’m quite enjoying this.” Jake continues to tease you while enjoying the fact that you are clinging to his arm dependently, with your breasts occasionally brushing against his arm.

You surprise yourself when a whine elicits from you and your pink lips form into a small pout as you meet his eyes that seem to be darkening. “Please, Jaeyun?”

His chest rumbles in pleasure at the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. “Fine.” He eventually concedes before reaching out for the controller at the side to put the movie on pause. “It turns out you are afraid of horror and thrillers after all.”

You narrow your eyes at his teasing grin, but you cave in as a sigh leaves your lips. “Yes. Now you can have another laugh at it.”

“Nah, I was just messing with you, lovely.” Jake leans forward to ruffle your hair while you are taken aback by the nonexistent space between the two of you. “Everyone has their own fears.”

“So what are your fears?” You inquire to him, feeling rather keen to know him better.

“I don’t have any.” Jake lies through his cheeky grin. “Tell me yours.”

A niggling of prudence tickles the back of your mind as if to warn you about telling him any parts of your vulnerability that he might potentially use against you.

But as you get lost in the depths of his devastatingly beautiful brown eyes, you feel a certain compulsion to reveal everything about you, including your worries, to him.

“Genres of thriller and gore, insects,” You begin to list down, murmuring as you do so with your head lowered and your cheeks tinted pink at the fact that he has his full attention on you. “losing my loved ones, being a disappointment and failure to anyone I hold dear close to my heart.”

“You? A failure?” Jake grips your chin gently but firmly enough to force your eyes to meet his. “Lovely, you are the epitome of perfection.”

Your cheeks flare with diffidence, and even if you want to look away from him, you can’t. “I’m not perfect, Jake.”

“Yeah, you are,” Jake leans his face close to yours, causing your breath to hitch, but he stops just close enough until the tips of your noses graze ghostly against each other’s. Your heart flutters at the warmth of his touch from his palm on the side of your thigh, rubbing it tantalisingly slowly. “and wrong name, baby.”

In an instant, he has you hoisted and settles you on top of his lap with your legs straddling his muscular denim-clad thighs while your skirt is hiked up, allowing a teasing peek of your skin. Instinctively, your hands find their way to his shoulders, feeling how toned and broadened they are beneath your touch, which pays off as a result of his consistency in working out.

The cold air in the private cinema shifts drastically. The tension is palpable, and you fear it might snap at any moment in time, especially the way he is gazing at you dangerously with lidded eyes.

You are rendered speechless by the escalation, unable to form any coherent sentences. The heat of his touch on your thighs sends you involuntary shivers down your spine while his dark eyes are penetrating into yours, which are swimming with sentiments you recognise. Danger, desire, and lust.

“You’re so fucking adorable, do you know that?” The low husk in his voice stirs something within you. Your lips go slightly parted at the sensation of his palm rubbing your thigh once more. “Can you do me a favour, lovely?” Although he is asking you, you know that it is a demand.

Your mind is screaming at you to push him away and flee from him, but it is as though his touch and gaze cast a spell on you that renders you compliant.

With the inexplicable haze clouding your better judgement, you nod your head, and his lips curl into a smirk.

“I want to see you in fishnet tights. You’ll look good in them.” His eyes rake all over your body until they fall to your plush thighs. He desires to dig his nails into the suppleness of your flesh, but your thigh-high socks are a hindrance.

His demand leaves you flabbergasted, and you continue to remain silent, to which Jake doesn’t seem satisfied.

He raises his hand to cup your cheek, bringing your full attention to his dark gaze. “Can you do that for me?” He asks firmly, applying pressure to the hesitancy you bear in your mind.

“Yes.” You utter your answer while your mind vehemently disagrees with you. A newfound desire kindles in you, and that is to please Jake.

“Good.”

You feel his hand creeping from your thigh to your buttcheek, eliciting an inaudible gasp from you, before he pulls your body closer to his until you feel something hard touching your core. Your heart lurches in your chest while the tension between the two of you feels suffocating.

“Jaeyun,” You whisper his name as you feel paralysed by the sensation of his hardened dick beneath you, and you fear that one movement from you will unleash the inner devil that lurks beneath his charming facade.

His strong cologne infiltrates your senses, enticing you to bury your head into his chest and bask in his scent, but with his face leaning closer to yours, you hold yourself back from doing so.

His nose touches yours while his hot breath fans above your lips. By now, his eyes are darkened and shrouded with lustful desire for you, wanting nothing more than to devour you, fucking you into oblivion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, contradictory to how he is holding you possessively with his hand holding and palming your buttcheek while the other is wrapped around your waist.

No, you should definitely say no. Your first kiss is reserved solely for the one who will be marrying you.

“Yes.” Your heart pounds harder in anticipation of your answer.

With your consent, he closes the gap between your lips while you flutter your eyes closed, awaiting the kiss.

Just as you envisioned, his warm lips feel soft and plump as he kisses you sweetly, which has your toes almost curling. He kisses like you are made out of glass, and he takes his time as though he is memorising the shape of your lips in the back of his mind.

But you remain unmoving, uncertain of how to kiss him, and embarrassment floods across your cheeks. When he pulls away, your chest tingles with disappointment.

“I’m sorry.” You find yourself apologising to him, your eyes crestfallen. Disheartened, you slouch your shoulders and avoid his gaze. “I don’t know how to kiss.” You mutter weakly while your fingers curl into fists as they rest on his chest.

“Lovely, look at me.” His soft command compels you to heed, and when you raise your head, your heart nearly lurches in your chest when he pulls you by the nape and slams his lips on yours, and this time, there is a sense of urgency and desperation as he kisses you.

Compared to the previous kiss, this kiss is messy, sloppy even, as you are unable to coordinate with how he is kissing you, but what genuinely confuses you is the fact that he doesn’t seem the slightest bothered by how bad you are at kissing. It is as though what matters to him most is the taste of your lips.

Your stomach churns with guilt, yet your core is pooling with newfound desire. Your lips part as you gasp at the sensation of his hardness grinding against yours, and you can almost feel his tip hitting your clothed clit that is aching with forbidden need. You can almost feel how big he is.

Jake grasps the opportunity to force his tongue into your mouth, exploring every inch of your hot cavern while his nails dig into the flesh of your ass. You try your best to keep up with him, your tongue tangling with his wet muscle in a mess, yet it is a mess that elicits a moan from the back of your throat.

You move your hips tentatively, testing waters, but soon you are grinding your hips against his while you attempt to feel the delirious friction of your clit rubbing against his pointed tip. A low groan emits from him at how painful his cock is, wanting nothing more than to bury himself inside of you. But he knows that he must wait patiently.

You gasp in pain when he has your bottom lip between his teeth, and you whimper as he tugs and pulls it teasingly, prompting you to flutter your eyes open and meet his dark, hypnotising ones. The corner of his lip tips up in a smirk before he devours you once more, and this time, he is assisting you with the other hand gripping your waist.

“You’re doing so fucking for me, lovely.” He rasps against your wet, parted lips with soft moans, leaving them. “So, so perfect just for me.” He purrs seductively before kissing you, while his praises send your heart fluttering.

“Jake.” You whimper against his lips in need, and goosebumps arise on your skin when he growls into the kiss. It all happens too fast, because the next thing you know, he has you pinned on the couch while your legs remain wrapped around his waist.

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as he leans down to press a gentle kiss on your neck, eliciting a pleasurable sigh from you, but a pained whimper follows when he bites down your skin in a threatening manner.

“Wrong name, baby.” He murmurs against your skin, his hand squeezing the plush of your thigh almost painfully. “What is my name?”

“Jae─” Your eyes roll to the back of your head while a breathless moan leaves your lips at the sensation of his hardened dick grinding against your pussy. “Jaeyun!”

“That’s fucking right.” He pulls away from you, hovering on top of you with his chain necklace dangling above you. You catch a glimpse of his inked tattoo on his collarbone area. “Do you want more?” He grinds again, deliberately.

“N-No.” You deny, shaking your head, but the moan that rips out from your lips betrays you, as does the way you buck up your hips in an attempt to feel for the delirious friction between your clit and his pointed tip.

Jake tuts as he halts his movement, his hand moving to brush the messy strands covering your cheeks. “It’s a sin to lie, my pretty girl.”

“Jaeyun, please!” You plead, throwing away your dignity.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” He chuckles breathily, finding pure delight in the way your eyes are glistening with need. He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your moist lips and remains there before murmuring, “But if you really want more, meet me by the entrance of the palace tomorrow night, and don’t forget to wear your fishnet thighs, yeah?”

No, for God’s sake, you should be saying no.

“Okay.” You breathe out your answer, earning you a grin from him.

You ignore the disappointment in you when he unwraps your legs from his waist and rises from the couch to adjust his denim jacket while you remain motionless, your mind in a muddle. By now, your lips are swollen, and your chest is heaving up and down from the aftermath.

Jake stares down at you with a smirk at the remnants of lust gleaming in those mesmerising eyes of yours before he extends his hand to you, which you gladly accept. As you abruptly stand, your knees nearly buckle underneath you, prompting you to latch your hand onto his bicep for support before you retract your hand from him, as though he is poisonous.

“I’d like to go back to my dorm, please.” You tell him meekly, avoiding his gaze.

You don’t say anything as you allow him to grab your hand and guide you out of the private cinema that is now tainted with traces of your sinful desire for the very delinquent you have been warned to stay away from.

All the while, as he sends you back to your dorm, your clit remains tingling and aching for some relief.

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By the time you’ve reached your dorm, the time has nearly struck midnight. You had expected your roommates to be sound asleep, but when you attempt to be tactful by opening the door as quietly as you can and sneaking to your room with light footsteps in the dark, you are being greatly startled as the lights in the living room abruptly switch on, revealing two of your best friends settled in the living room.

The expressions painted on their canvas are certainly not anywhere near satisfactory, while they seem to mirror each other in the way they remain seated on the couch with their stern gazes on your figure.

“It’s nearly midnight, Y/N Kang.” Wonyoung states the obvious, her voice is so emphatic that it almost makes you cringe, because you hate it whenever she gets upset with you.

You chew your inner cheeks as you look away from their gaze while you tighten the clutch on the strap of your backpack. “Yes, and?” You dare to display your defiance, which rarely happens.

Wonyoung scoffs loudly, her disbelief is more than apparent. She rises from the couch and approaches you slowly, her eyes remaining fierce. “You’ve never come back this late! You didn’t even reply to any of our texts or return our calls!” She exclaims. “Do you even know how worried sick we got? The least you could do is inform us of your whereabouts.”

“You’re not my mother.” You snap at her, and you didn’t even intend to, but there is a newfound sensation bubbling within you that you want to unleash. Sure, Wonyoung and you bicker and even fight for a short period of time before returning to normalcy, but this time is different.

It almost feels as though you are completely fed up by their overprotectiveness and the way they often treat you like a helpless kid who knows nothing about what all stereotypical college students are like, and even more so when they often dictate your life choices.

Wonyoung’s glare deters you just slightly. “First, you’ve been giving us the cold shoulders since Saturday, and now you’re getting all attitude on us? I don’t know what happened to you, but you need to stop acting like a bitch.”

You flinch lightly as her words impact you, causing hurt to be written all over your features. Throughout the years you have known her, Wonyoung has never called you a bitch. Upon seeing the hurt reflecting in your eyes, guilt dawns on Wonyoung, but before she can apologise, you cut her off with a cold yet wavering tone.

“The fact that you still don’t even realise it yet proves that either you don’t care or you simply decided to close both eyes.”

“How are we supposed to realise anything when you don’t even confide in us?!” Wonyoung argues back.

“Hey, what’s with all the yelling?” Karina emerges from her room as she yawns, her hair is tangled while she is in her usual pyjamas, which consist of a black singlet and high shorts.

“Because I don’t feel comfortable with you guys anymore!” You raise your voice as you disregard Karina, now in a glaring contest with Wonyoung, while Yunjin’s worry is evident as she stands next to the latter. “After what happened on Devil’s Night, I don’t even know how to look at all of you the same as before.”

Amidst the anger, confusion is visible through Wonyoung’s gaze. “What are you talking about? And why did you bring up Devil’s Night?”

“Tell us what really happened on Devil’s Night that made you act this way towards us, please.” Yunjin interjects firmly, but her gaze is softened, almost making you forget something about her.

The traumatising events reoccur in your mind as you release a shaky breath while attempting to maintain eye contact with Yunjin. “I saw you in the labyrinth garden. You were with one of the knights.” Your confession throws Yunjin off guard as she flinches visibly. “You were obviously enjoying it, even when the other knights were hunting down the rest of us and killed some students. Not to mention that there were gravely injured ones!”

Yunjin swallows harshly and takes a step forward. “I can explain─”

But your eyes return to Wonyoung before they dart down at her neck bearing hickeys. “Those are from Jungwon when he captured you that same night.” Your presumption proves correct when her cheeks tint pink. “I was worried for you and thought that he did something horrible to you, or worse.”

Getting overwhelmed by the different emotions that coalesce into one, your eyes begin to glisten with tears, blurring your vision with each blink. You can discern the guilt hanging in the cold air that is infused with their silence, but you continue to vent out the feelings you have suppressed.

“The thing that made me most upset about it was the fact that all of you didn’t seem the slightest bothered by what happened on Devil’s Night, including those students who were murdered by the notorious frat delinquents, and their only sins were simply having fun on a normal Halloween night!” You choke a sob with a fallen teardrop sliding down your cheek. “Even the rest of the students acted normal as if Devil’s Night wasn’t inhumane and traumatising enough.”

“That’s just how Devil’s Nights have always been.” Yunjin says her expression remains calmly collected, which infuriates you, because why does she seem indifferent about it? “And for that very reason, Devil’s Night is never meant for anyone with a faint heart.”

“Why are you suddenly blowing up on us about this?” Karina asks, giving you a bewildered stare. “We thought you were fine with it.”

“Because you girls should have told me in the first place how heinous Devil’s Night is!” You retort. “You girls were the ones who thought it was a good idea to bring me along with you in the first place.”

“I recall you agreeing and going to Devil’s Night on your own accord.” Wonyoung remarks annoyedly, her eyes narrowing at you.

“My biggest mistake.” You say in a tone that sounds foreign in your ears while you clench a fist. “You know what? I’m done with this.”

Just as you are about to retire to your room, Yunjin stops you with her inquiry, “At least tell us where you were earlier.”

With your back turned on them, you contemplate before opting for the other route. “None of your business.” You tell her quietly, yet it is resounding for them before you proceed to your room in haste and slam the door shut.

Your mind is on autopilot as you refuse to wallow in whatever feelings are storming all over you, heading for the bathroom to take a shower.

Minutes have passed since you entered the bathroom. Currently, you have just washed off the shampoo from your hair and are rinsing off the lathered soap on your body. Your face is devoid of emotion, but then comes the thought of Jake in your mind.

You recall what happened between the two of you earlier and how disgustingly aroused you were. A muscle pulses in your jaw while self-hatred shrouds you. How could you have done such deplorable acts just after you had sought forgiveness?

The shower steam is starting to fog in the bathroom as you remain under the shower head, allowing the water to rinse you thoroughly and self-reflecting your prior behaviour.

But it feels as though there are devils whispering into your ears, making you recall again with another perspective how truly aroused you were and the delicious friction between your clit and the pointed tip of his clad cock, how the heat of his touch and his wet, messy kisses ignited your arousal.

You feel the familiar sensation stirring in your core before the essence starts to leak its way to your folds simply by fantasising about your ex-crush burying his thick cock into you. You squeeze your thighs in an attempt to suppress your arousal while simultaneously battling an internal conflict with yourself for being sinful once more.

Finally surrendering yourself to the devil’s lulling whisper, you begin to fantasise about Jake kissing you hotly and messily while groping every part of your body, his husky voice whispering all the dirty things seductively in your ear while he fucks you relentlessly.

You lean your back against the wall, slowly spreading your legs for good measure. Your fingers trail down to your aching clit which is in need of relief, while your free hand fondles your boob. Your head is tilted up with your chest heaving up and down as you circle your clit before you set a pace that is addictive, maintaining momentum that has you breathing heavily now.

Eventually, a moan leaves your lips as you rub and circle your clit fast while your fingers tweak and pull your hardened nipple. You begin to fantasise about Jake again, and this time, you imagine him doing this to you.

You had no idea how truly sensational masturbation was until now. You continue to get lost in the delirium, and you try your utmost to keep your moans at a minimum, but it’s like you lack the ability for control as you release moans that echo throughout the walls of the bathroom which you fear your best friends might hear.

You don’t stop, and you increase the pace as soon as you feel your orgasm impending. With one last moan, you finally come undone, feeling the sticky essence leaking from your wet folds.

With heavy pants, you quickly compose yourself by washing away the evidence of you coming undone. You know you should be disgusted with yourself, but amidst the immense guilt of the blasphemous deed, you feel a certain change within you.

Maybe you should meet him tomorrow by the palace and find out what he has in store for you.

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The next morning, you fall into your normal routine ─ waking up early for morning classes despite the lack of sleep last night, and evading your three best friends once again. But one thing is certain is the fact that you have been battling against the internal conflict within you.

Of course, before you fell into the state of slumber, you prayed and sought forgiveness from God with tears brimming in your eyes, but you felt like a hypocrite as soon as you woke up from the sleep filled with a lustful dream of Jake, and you were embarrassed by the fact that even in your sleep, you managed to get wet, as evident by the dampness of your pink underwear.

Throughout your morning class, you have been completely distraught and contemplated hard on your decision to meet Jake by the palace or not, and you tried conjuring any possibilities of tonight's outcome. Against your better judgement, you chose to venture to the route that the rational part of you has been relentlessly trying to stop you.

Your phone buzzes in your hand before you glance down to read a text from your good friend, prompting you to increase your walking pace.

WINTER: I’m on my way to your dorm. As much as I’m happy that you’re finally wearing something sexy for once, do I really want to know what is going on and why?

YOU: I’ll tell you later, but only if you promise to keep it a secret from the others.

WINTER: Our good baby girl is finally being scandalous now? Sign me up! Fine, I promise I won’t reveal your secret to others.

YOU: You’re the best, Minjeongie~

WINTER: I was born to be the best, babe.

You chuckle lightly before lifting your head up, but you bump into a solid back that causes you to stagger a step back. “I’m sorry.” Just as you apologise, his strong arm slings around your neck, causing you to nearly stumble forward under his weight.

“Hey, Y/N.” His sultry voice greets you, sending you bad shivers while your skin crawls with disgust as you finally look at him. You know him mainly because he used to throw vulgar remarks at you, and he and his other pals would often verbally bully you. They stopped when your friends stepped in and defended you from them.

“Alex,” You don’t bother to conceal your grimace as you attempt to shrug off his arm from your shoulder, but that only earns you to be roughly pulled into his side. You ignore the demeaning chuckles from his two pals. “let go of me.”

“I don’t think so, especially after we saw Giselle’s instastory of you wearing that tight dress and dancing like a stripper on Devil’s Night.” Alex’s disgustingly hot breath fans your earlobe as he speaks in a seductive lull. “If I had known beneath your pristine good girl facade is an attractive slut who should put her mouth to good use─”

Having had enough of being slut-shamed once more, you use your elbow to hit him hard in the stomach while a part of you is taken by surprise by your newfound bravery. Alex groans out in pain as he releases you, but his other pal, who goes by the name Simon, grabs your arm and slams you against the wall, eliciting a pained gasp from you at the impact.

By now, you tremble in fear when Simon pins you with no way out, his knee forcefully parting your legs. His lips curl into a sneer as he glares down at you. “Did you forget who we are? I guess it’s time we teach you a little lesson.”

You attempt to shove him by the chest, but your strength is no match compared to his. “Get away from me!” Your voice is laced with desperation for help, hoping that the students in your vicinity will come to save you, but they proceed to mind their own business as if they didn’t see you getting assaulted by your past bullies.

Your three bullies laugh degradingly as they surround you before Simon grabs a fist of your hair to pull your head to the back and force your neck to arch for him to administer his assault on your dainty neck as his lips touch your skin.

The corner of your eye is filled with tears, and this earns you a mockery of ‘awww’ from Alex and his other pal, who goes by Hans.

“No one’s going to help you, bitch.” Hans slaps your cheek lightly while you continue to struggle in Simon’s grasp. “You’re crying? We haven’t even done anything to you yet.

“What a fucking loser, as always.” Alex remarks with a smirk, watching you with a cruel glint in his eye.

Just as you think it’s over for you, a familiar yet sharp voice slices through the air like a knife that nearly has you flinching at how resonant it is. “Release her.”

Never have you ever expected Park Sunghoon to be the one to save you, or so you thought.

Simon doesn’t release the instant, but he does, however, look over his shoulder to cast a sneer at Sunghoon, whose face is devoid of emotion. “Mind your own business, Park. She’s ours to deal with.”

“We didn’t expect you to save your damsel in distress, Sunghoon.” Hans comments with his eyebrow arched, intrigued. “I thought you hated this bitch.”

Your eyes glisten at the moment Sunghoon’s cold eyes meet yours, the familiar sentiment you recognise all too well glints in his dark eyes. His lips curve into a sardonic smirk. “You’re right, but I’m not going to repeat myself when I tell you once again to release Y/N Kang.”

“Why?” Alex asks with a bewildered glare.

All the while, Sunghoon’s eyes remain on yours as he continues to speak, “Because she’s already mine to deal with. Trust me when I say I’ll be doing you guys a favour.”

Simon groans. His hand, which is grabbing a fist of your hair, tightens, eliciting a painful wince from you. “Just a few more minutes, Park. Let me fuck around with her for a little.

Sunghoon’s mere action of his hand gripping Simon’s shoulder firmly takes you by a slight surprise, as does the peculiar glint in his gaze at the back of the latter’s head. “I wasn’t asking, and you’ll do well to remember whose rank is higher between us.”

Simon clenches his jaw before he eventually releases you, allowing you to grasp the opportunity to calm your nerves. “Fine. You want her?” The next thing you know, Simon’s hands are on your shoulders tightly as he shoves you roughly towards Sunghoon, resulting in your tumble, and you find yourself on the ground.

You withstand the painful impact of landing on your knees. With your palms on the ground in front of you, you curl them into fists at the utter humiliation while you hear your three bullies snicker behind you. You allow your hair to cover any parts of your face as you refuse to look up, afraid of the expression on Sunghoon’s face.

“She’s all yours to deal with.” Simon tells Sunghoon with a sense of mockery.

“I don’t suppose you can consider sharing her with us.” Alex inquires smugly.

As you are directly kneeling in front of Sunghoon, you can feel him bending down before you feel his cold fingers gripping your chin tight and forcing you to look up at him.

The concoction of abhorrence and wickedness dance delightfully in his eyes, evoking a sense of foreboding from you. "Sorry, fellas, but you gotta find other girls to prey on. Y/N Kang is mine, and if it makes you feel better, I’ll do her much worse.” Sunghoon tells them, all the while keeping his cruel gaze on your glistening eyes.

His cold eyes rake over your features once more before he lets out a scoff. “Pathetic.” He utters the word to you as he releases your chin roughly.

You hear your three bullies erupt into laughter and praise Sunghoon. You finally find the will to look up and spot the three of them surrounding Sunghoon as they proceed to walk away from you.

With sore knees, you begin to rise from the ground and ignore the stares from the students in your vicinity who had witnessed the entire humiliation.

Your heart squeezes painfully as you recall the cruelty in Sunghoon’s cold gaze. You blame yourself for expecting him to save you when you should have known that he would side with your bullies.

As you wipe another fallen teardrop from your cheek, you advance forward, resuming your journey to your dorm, but your feet are practically dragging with a trail of your disheartened spirit.

All the while, you fail to realise a pair of familiar eyes with inexplicable storms have been watching the entire thing.

With a face devoid of emotion, he watches your low-spirited figure get further and further before he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket. He whips out his phone and proceeds to read the text notification from his best friend.

SUNGHOON: They took the bait.

JAKE: Thanks. Remind Jungwon and Riki to lock every entrance and exit tonight.

The corner of Jake’s lips tips up in a smirk, while there is a familiar bloodthirsty glint in his eye as he leans away from the wall to make his way to meet the others.

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You stare in incredulity at the garments that are laid out on your bed, while the not-so-subtle squeals from your high-spirited friend don’t go unnoticed by you.

When you specifically asked Winter if you could borrow her fishnet tights, you naturally expected her to bring the aforementioned items, but you definitely did not expect her to bring along some of her garments.

The garments consist of a black long-sleeve button-up crop top and a black pleated skirt that reaches way above your knees, barely covering your thighs. Uncertainty resides in your gaze. One of your biggest insecurities is that your thighs are thicker than your best friends’.

Honestly, you’re not too fat, but neither are you too thin. Your body proportion is something you have always found unusual. Your shoulders are slender, your breasts weigh heavier, and you admit that it hurts to run sometimes. Your snatched waist as well as your hip dips are something you are proud of, but your thighs have always been an issue for you whenever you want to try out denim pants or just pants that don’t cater to your size. Plus, you have always received remarks about your thighs from some people.

“Um, Winter,” You scratch your damp hair while your body remains wrapped in a towel. “I think the fishnet tights are enough since I did specifically ask for them.” You point out the obvious along the lines of light chuckles.

“I know that, duh, but to add some spice, you have to wear these.” Winter’s adamant tone leaves you no choice but to acquiesce. “Now that we’re at it, what is the special occasion? Who are you hooking up with?”

You gasp at her just as you retrieve the pleated skirt and the black top. “I’m not hooking up with anyone!”

“Girl, you can’t fool me. I mean, fishnet tights, seriously?” Winter deadpans. “Plus, there is only one person who has fishnet tights kink, and that very person is the one and only Jake Sim.”

Your cheeks flare with diffidence, but a certain curiosity pops into your mind as you stare at her. “How do you know about that?”

“I’ve heard a thing or two from the girls he had slept with in the past.” Winter says, getting distracted as she inspects her acrylic nails. “So are you going to hook up with him or not?”

“I─” You pause, and uncertainty wraps around your head despite your understanding of the clear intent of his suggestion last night. You heave a sigh. “I don’t know, and I don’t even know why I’m doing this.”

“Face it, babe. Deep inside of you, you want a taste of him.” Winter grins smugly while you grimace in return. “I really want to know all the details about how you and him happened, but that can wait.”

You watch as Winter makes her way to your wardrobe drawer, where you store your undergarments, and pulls it open before she rummages through them.

“Winter!” You shriek as she tosses each out, causing them to be scattered on the floor. “I just had them organised last week!”

“I’ll reorganise them for you later!” Winter chirps before finally having her hands on the pieces she looked for. You hear her gasping dramatically. “Y/N Kang! You sneaky little vixen!”

You groan at the gleeful tone in her exclamation as well as the pretty black lace bra and underwear in her grasp. “Karina bought them for my birthday last year.” You grumble out.

“That’s my girl.” A Cheshire grin adorns Winter’s face at the mention of Karina. She shoves those undergarments into your already-occupied hands. “Now go. I’ll be waiting here to do your makeup gorgeously so Jake won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.”

You roll your eyes in return, but just as you move forward, you halt your steps and look at Winter, who is seated on the edge of your bed, bouncing lightly with the same grin on her face. “I promise to tell you all the details of how it happened, but can you promise me that you won’t tell the others?”

“You have my word.” Winter gives you a firm head nod.

“Not a single soul.” You say firmly.

“Girl, just get your ass into the bathroom and get changed. I’ll keep all of your naughty deeds in full secrecy.”

Your eyes narrow at Winter as she makes the silly gesture of zipping her mouth before you eventually relax the tension in your head and proceed to change.

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Maybe it has to do with the fact that a part of you has been looking forward to this night, but by the time you arrive by the gates of the palace, you realise that it is still a little earlier than the time Jake had stated last night.

The cold breeze manages to breach through the thin material of your top, sending you shivers before you latch your arms around your figure in an attempt to warm yourself. The same breeze caresses your legs, which are adorned with fishnet tights, prompting you to press the button at the side as it buzzes.

Just as you retract your hand, a moment of ambivalence hits you. The rational part of you is begging for you to reevaluate your absurd decision to come here, but the moment the golden gates automatically open, you know that it is too late to back out. You can only afford to wallow in regret.

With each step you take forward, your heart gradually pounds hard against your chest, uncertain of what the night holds. Of course, you are expecting something that involves resuming where the two of you left off last night, but at the same time, you are caught up in turmoil.

The loud clanging sound of the golden gates surprises you, prompting you to look over your shoulder to see the gates are closed, unable to make your exit. You swallow harshly before proceeding to venture forward.

Naturally, you head for the palace’s entrance, and as soon as you nearly reach it, a figure sporting all-black attire emerges from the side bush, and just his abrupt presence alone manages to give you a scare as you let out a shriek.

You hear chuckles beneath the grey mask that obscures his identity. “You really do have a faint heart.”

At the sound of his voice, a frown tugs at your lips. “Jungwon?”

Once Jungwon removes his mask, his feline-like eyes lock with yours, and his lips curve into a grin that has inexplicable intent. “You arrived earlier than expected.” He remarks calmly while you shift comfortably under his gaze. “Whatever. Either way, you’re going to get what you want the moment you step foot into our zone.”

Jungwon takes a menacing step forward, and instinctively, you recoil, but Jungwon is swift enough to grab you by the arm and pull you roughly towards him. “Last chance for you. Are you sure you’re up for this?” He asks quietly, his dark eyes scrutinising your face. “Because once you agree, everything that will happen next is essentially consensual.”

The apprehension in your tummy becomes tenfold while your mind is imploring you to run from this place, but your curiosity will always get the best of you. “Yes, I’m up for this.” The words fly out of your mouth affirmatively, and the small voice in your head is berating you for basically digging in your own grave.

A glimmer of delight shines in Jungwon’s eye. “You’re stupid, Y/N.” He remarks with a derogatory chuckle, but there is a certain knowingness etched on his face. “But I can see why he has taken a liking to you.”

You ignore the way his eyes rake all over your figure before he returns his gaze to your face and tightens his grip on your arm. “Let’s go.”

Instead of guiding you into the palace, Jungwon navigates his way around the building while literally dragging you as you struggle to keep up with him.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, and you nearly stumble due to the roughness of his deadly grip on your arm as he continues to pull you.

Jungwon doesn’t answer your question straight away, and just as you are about to inquire once more, your attention is pulled away from him to the familiar massive labyrinth garden. Those unpleasant memories from Devil’s Night flood your mind while you stagger a step back, flinching in fear.

You haven’t realised Jungwon has released his grip on your arm until his voice draws your attention to him once more. “Jake doesn’t know that you’re here yet, because he is preoccupied with a little something.” Your eyes narrow at his coy smile. “In fact, I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“Then why have you brought me here?” You ask adamantly, no longer restraining your great annoyance for him.

“To spice things up, as you girls would say. You should head inside and don’t even think about trying to escape.” Jungwon warns you, his smile is no longer on his face. He takes deliberate, slow steps back while keeping his dark gaze trained on your face. “Good luck, Y/N. Hopefully, you’ll survive the night.”

“What?” You frown, watching as he gets further and further away. “Jungwon!”

Concurrently, as soon as you call for Jungwon, a scream belonging to a man pierces through the cold air, startling you. Your heart begins to pound in apprehension as you hear some commotion nearby.

You should have run away, but instead, you take tentative steps forward while you survey your surroundings, and you can discern another noise that sounds awfully akin to those gory movies you watched, as though someone is being stabbed.

“H-Hey, man! We can talk things out instead!”

You frown at the familiar voice of your bully, who sounds frantic and pleading with someone. You halt your steps just as you are about to turn to the right corner, where the source of the commotion is happening.

“You should’ve thought about it the moment you dared to touch and kiss her with your filthy lips.”

You are nearly rendered shocked by the unfamiliar coldness in his tone amidst the palpable darkness. You swallow down a lump in your throat before daring yourself to take a peek, and when you do, your eyes widen in mortification at the gruesome sight of Alex and Han’s lifeless bodies with blood splattered everywhere, but what horrifies you the most is the slit wound on their necks with blood oozing profusely still.

“You’re fucking deranged, Jake!” Simon’s yell pulls your attention to them, and you watch as Simon attempts to crawl backwards away from Jake while his hand is holding the side of his bleeding waist. “To go to this extent just for that fat bitch?!”

You know too well he is referring to you, causing you to wallow momentarily in dejection upon the familiar insult you have heard before. But Simon’s yell pulls your gaze to him again, and this time, you accidentally release an audible gasp that no doubt reaches their ears.

With Jake’s back facing you, you watch in pure horror when he plunges the knife in his grasp deep into Simon’s stomach with no hesitation. Simon coughs out blood, and that is also when you realise how badly fucked up his face looks.

“The ‘fat bitch’ you referred to has a name, and for the record, she’s not fat.” Jake’s voice sounds deeper, and you can detect the snarl in his tone. “I’m so gonna enjoy killing you for assaulting what’s mine.”

“She’s not worth it!” Simon manages to splutter, wheezing as Jake twists the knife deeper into his stomach before he withdraws the knife to bring it to Simon’s neck. Simon doesn’t have the opportunity to say his last words when Jake swiftly slices his neck with clean precision, as though he is an expert at killing his victim.

You watch as the life in Simon’s eyes perishes before Jake roughly releases him, allowing his body to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

Numbness is all you can feel. As you stare at their lifeless bodies, you have no idea what to feel for them. Internal conflict resides with you. A part of you agrees with the fact that they deserve to die after what they did to you, but the goodness in you feels sorrowful over their deaths.

The metallic smell of their blood pervades the foreboding atmosphere as well as your nostrils, snapping you out of the trance before you redirect your focus on the man whom you thought wasn’t capable of such a heinous act.

Holding the blood-stained knife that is dripping with the remnants of Simon’s blood, he slowly turns around, giving you a good view of his appearance. Your jaw goes unhinged upon seeing the ghostface mask obscuring his face.

By now, it is too late for you to hide yourself from him, as you can almost feel the intensity of his gaze behind that mask. Trepidation courses through your veins while your stomach churns with uneasiness as you stare at him in a different light.

Jake tilts his head slightly to one side, as though he is curious. “What are you doing out here?”

You don’t answer his question as you dart your eyes at your dead bullies before swallowing harshly. “You killed them.”

Jake takes a step forward, but you instinctively back away from him. “Why the sad face, beautiful? Shouldn’t you be glad that I did you a favour? They won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You curl your hand into a fist while you attempt to soothe your nerves. “But you didn’t have to kill them.” You say shakily.

“Of course, I had to!” Jake’s sudden outburst startles you, making you go flinching. “Don’t you understand? They fucking assaulted you! This is the consequence of their actions!”

“You’re crazy, Jake!” You surprise yourself when you manage to find your voice, but your hand remains trembling in fear for the man you thought was filled with radiant kindness.

Jake halts his steps, and it is hard for you to decipher the expression on his face, but at the moment he releases chuckles, you shiver at how dark and deadly he sounds. “You haven’t seen anything crazy yet, beautiful.”

In a blink of an eye, he charges towards you, and your body goes into a fight-or-flight mode as you find yourself running away from him. You don’t even have the time to marvel at your agility and how you are able to run at this pace, only desperate to fight for your survival.

Behind his mask, a cunning grin smears across his lips, finding the sheer thrill and excitement in preying on you. He purposefully decreases his pace, giving you the illusion that you have managed to outrun him as the two of you have entered the palace.

Things have differed from the original plans he had for you. You weren’t even meant to witness him kill your bullies. He had only intended to let you know after he managed to bury himself inside of you. Part of him is mad at Jungwon, but he can’t deny that this changes things into a rather thrilling adventure.

The darkness lurking beneath his charming countenance relishes the palpable fear and anxiety you exude as he watches you ascend to the second floor in haste.

You stop momentarily to take a breather. Your chest squeezes painfully with each breath you take. As you look around, you silently berate yourself for not making it to the exit of the palace.

“Awww, why did you stop running?” Your body goes frigid upon hearing his voice just a few metres from behind you.

You whip around, staring at him with wide panic eyes. “Let’s play a little game, shall we?” He says, taking one step forward. “You’re going to run and find someplace to hide,” A chuckle of delight leaves his lips. “but if I catch you, I will fuck you, and if you try to escape again, I will kill you.”

Jake does not mean it literally. He just wants to give you a good scare. The way your glistening eyes are staring at him in palpable fear entices the wickedness in him.

The trepidation is making your head dizzy, while the fear enveloping your weak heart springs tears to your eyes. “J-Jaeyun─”

“Run, Y/N.” Jake shocks you as he nearly growls out, but it is as though your body has been paralysed, remaining rooted to the ground. “I said fucking run!”

And you do, picking up the pace. The interior is massive enough for you to aid your refuge from facing Jake’s malignity, and you grasp the opportunity to turn into a deep end corner where the long stretch of corridor displays doors that lead to different rooms.

“You better start hiding, my lovely!”

You dash straight for the flight of stairs next to you, all plans of hiding in one of the rooms are forgotten. When you reach the third floor, you have a hunch that either of these doors are their rooms.

Hearing his footsteps approaching from below, you decide to shove yourself inside an empty store room, which lacks any lights, before closing the door as quietly as you can. You whip out your phone frantically in an attempt to turn on the flashlight while your heart is racing at the familiar fear of being shrouded in total darkness.

With a heavy pant as you lean your back against the wall, you grasp this opportunity to regulate your emotions, which feel like a maelstrom within you. Your hand that is holding your phone remains trembling from the trepidation.

Your phone vibrates as notifications pop up.

WONYOUNG: Hey, can we talk later?

WINTER: Have fun, babe! Don’t forget to tell me all the juicy details ;)

You scoff lightly at Winter’s text. If only she knew that Jake was a psychopathic killer who had murdered your bullies. But then again, you don’t feel the slightest remorse.

Instead of responding to any of them, you tuck your phone in your pocket and inch closer to the door. You press your ear against the door in an attempt to listen for his voice or footsteps, but there are none. Your hand finds its way to twist the doorknob before you slowly pull open the door. You peek your head outside and check for the coast.

The ominous atmosphere is accompanied by a cold, deadly silence. Mustering courage, you switch off your flashlight and step out of the room. You begin to devise quickly, deciding that you need to find another way to make your escape.

Stealthily, you advance forward, but hesitation is discernible from each step you take. Your inner turmoil persists while your skin is crawling with dread, hating how painfully silent the whole palace is and how dim the lights are getting.

Just as you are about to make your descent to the second floor, a startled gasp leaves your lips when your eyes lock onto the familiar ghostface. He is leaning sideways against the wall with one arm folded while the other is toying around with his knife.

“Hello, love.” Jake greets you, remaining unmoving from his position while you are trembling with palpable fear for your predator. You can already imagine the grin on his face as you detect his tone.

“Jake,” There is a plea in your voice as you take a step back. “please, let me go.”

But Jake simply ignores your plea. You watch as he goes perfectly still, as does the air around you while your figure is transfixed. You draw a sharp breath while your heart pounds erratically against your chest, uncertain of what to expect next.

The movement of his head tilted catches your keen eyes, and without any warning given to you, he catches you off guard when he dashes up to you, and you release fearful shrieks as you attempt to make a run in the opposite direction.

For a moment, you have forgotten that he used to be the captain of the rugby team, and you underestimated his agility.

With his hand firmly on your arm, he pulls you to him until your back hits his solid chest. You swear you hear his low, ragged breaths beneath his mask, and this position reminds you of the night he danced intimately with you, but this time, he has embodied a serial killer that you watched on screen twice.

Jake doesn’t say anything and forcefully drags you to one of the rooms, which you presume is his room. The cold air smacks you in the face as he forces you into his room. He kicks the door closed behind him before guiding you to his king-sized bed and pushing you down without any thoughts of gentleness.

You land face-flat on the mattress with a grunt before quickly turning around, your eyes staring at your own ghostface looming ominously over your figure. Your skirt is hiked way above your thighs as you attempt to scramble away from him, but just as you do, your pulses drum in your ears when he pins you on the bed with his knee in between your parted legs.

The streaks of moonlight streaming into his bedroom window illuminate the mask, allowing you to soak up the image of his ghostface mask up-closed into your frazzling mind as he leans down. Your eyes widen the slightest fraction while your heart nearly lurches in your chest.

As the faint metallic smell of blood is detectable from his potentially stained black garments, your fear becomes tenfold, but you refrain from allowing the tears that have collected in the rims of your eye to leak out.

"I told you to run, did I not?" The pointed tip of his once blood-stained knife grazes down on your cheek tantalisingly slowly before it reaches your neck.

A tear manages to escape the corner of your eye while you release a whimper that galvanises the wickedness in him. "J-Jake, t-this isn't you─"

"You have no idea who I truly am, lovely." His chuckles that you once found endearing before are laced with malicious intent, and your body trembles with trepidation beneath him when he presses the sharp edge of the knife to your throat. "Do you remember what I told you earlier about what happens if I catch you?"

"You─" Your voice visibly shakes, which denotes fear, and your breath hitches in your throat when he uses his other hand to expertly unbutton your top while he awaits your next words. You swallow a whimper before forcing yourself to speak again. "You will fuck me." You weakly utter the profanity that tastes like poison on your tongue.

"And if you try to escape?" He asks, humming delightfully as he unfastens the last button of your top, now revealing your pretty black lace bra that barely covers the expanse of your plump breasts.

Dread crawls onto your skin as you whisper the next words, "You'll kill me."

You watch as he slowly removes his mask, allowing his long strands to hover over his chiselled forehead. You ignore the way your heart flutters as he smirks down at you with the craze glinting in his eyes. "I'm going to fuck you all night, and you're going to scream my name until you forget yours, but first, spread your legs for me, lovely."

Jake proceeds to unzip the side of your pleated skirt before pulling it down, with you obediently assisting him as you lift your hips, which earns you an appreciative hum from him.

He taps your thigh, a signal you surprisingly understand, and you do as you were told, slowly spreading your legs for him despite the embarrassment flooding scarlet red across your cheeks, but you are thankful that the room barely has any lights. You don’t want him to see the stretch marks around your thighs.

It takes him every ounce of self-restraint from completely pouncing on you and burying his cock to the hilt of your cunt. He can already imagine the sweet taste of your pussy that no one has ever breached.

His eyes rake all over your magnificent figure, and he marvels at how truly perfect you look, especially your thighs that he desires to squeeze around his head as he delves into your cunt.

On the other hand, you take his silence as him judging you, causing your insecurity to resurface until you find yourself closing your thighs, but Jake is not having any of that.

“I said to keep them open, lovely.” Jake speaks through gritted teeth, his hand on the plump of your inner thigh and forcing it open, and you heed his command, not wanting to piss him off any longer.

At the moment his thumb comes into direct contact with your clit, you gasp in surprise. Your mouth opens partially with more inaudible gasps as his thumb begins to stroke your clit tenderly. The thin material of your translucent lace black underwear allows you to feel the friction distinctly.

“Did you dress up all prettily for me, love?” The gentleness in his tone takes you by surprise while he continues his ministration on your now-aching clit, which needs more than his thumb. He hums seductively, leaning down to place a sensual kiss on your throat. “I knew you would never disappoint me. You’re too good. My good fucking girl.”

Butterflies awaken from their slumber in your tummy upon hearing his praise, sending you an odd sensation. Sure, you’ve always earned praise from your family and your friends, but this feels like it's on another level. It makes you crave to seek validation and earn praise from him.

Jake steals your chance to speak as he decides to take you by great surprise when he practically rips your lace underwear, drawing a disbelieving gasp from you. “Jaeyun!”

“It was in the way, lovely.” He nearly whines in between grumbles, surprising you again. Just as he is about to grab both your thighs, you close them again as you shake your head. “Love─”

“They’re too thick.” You allow yourself to display vulnerability over the fact that you’re insecure about your thighs. Your head is turned sideways, and you do not know what the expression on his face is. “M-Maybe we shouldn’t─ Jaeyun!”

A shriek emits from you at the moment he roughly pushes your thighs apart by force and hooks his arms around them before pulling you roughly until your legs are hanging in the air by the bed. That is when you also realise he is kneeling to the ground with his face directly at your clean-shaved pussy.

“Thick or not, I don’t care.” He murmurs, nearly salivating, as his eyes zero in on your pussy. “I’m gonna show you the appreciation you deserve.” He squeezes your thigh with affection.

Something stirs within you, a newfound sentiment, but before you can decipher it, the wet sensation on your folds shocks you before you raise your head slightly to see him lapping his tongue on the heat of your pussy.

“Jae─” You stop midway, your mouth parting open with breathy moans. Your chest heaves up and down, breathing heavily as his wet muscle delves in between your folds. The tip of his nose grazes against your aching clit as he inhales your sweet scent that matches your taste. He continues to eat you out, as though he has been long since deprived of pussy, getting addicted to your taste as he licks your nectar.

Maybe because you’re a virgin, but fuck, you taste divine, unlike anything he imagined. His cock starts to harden at the tightness of your cunt around him.

Eventually, you begin to grind your hips as you desire to feel his tongue deeply into you, and his chest rumbles with approval from your ministration. “Nngh! Oh my god!” A high-pitched moan tears from your throat, rolling your eyes as you throw your head to the back and realise how sensational getting eaten out truly is.

But Jake halts, retracting his tongue from your needy cunt and drawing a whine from you. His tongue hits the roof of his mouth, hating the word that just came out of your mouth.

“God, please, please, please!” You sound pathetic as you plead for him to lap your cunt.

“No more praying for you, baby.” You hear the derogatory tone and husky rasp projecting in his voice, along with that attractive, thick accent.

Your thighs are hurting with the way his nails are digging into your skin, and goosebumps arise on the surface of your skin as he lightly blows at your inviting, wet hole before he takes you by surprise once more as he dives back into you, and this time, the lapping of his tongue on your tongue is messy and sounds utterly obscene.

“Jake!” Your moan sounds disgustingly lewd in your ears, and yet you don’t want this to end, gradually grinding your hips while your fingers are tugging the roots of his raven strands hard, eliciting a groan from him that sends vibration through your body.

“That’s right. Scream my name just like that.” He chuckles darkly as he pulls away from you just slightly before plunging his fingers into you, causing your jaw to unhinge at the abrupt invasion. “This room is your church, and I’m your fucking preacher now, baby.”

You should be hating the words that left his mouth, but instead, you become even more aroused with lust, as it is clouding your better judgement.

His two fingers thrust in and out of your slick cunt tentatively, watching you under his dark gaze. Despite the raging beast in him that is close to being unleashed, he knows that he should be gentle with you, and he also yearns to make your first memorable.

“You okay?” He asks softly, halting his fingering movement upon seeing your face.

Your glistening eyes meet his dark ones as he hovers on top of you, and you nearly melt at the sweetness of his gaze, such a contrast to the person he was earlier. Your eyes flicker down at his plump lips before you slowly nod your head. “I’m okay. I want─”

You smack your lips shut together, feeling diffident at how needy you sound. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of his fingers from your pussy.

“What do you want, lovely?” He asks, his gentle tone is an encouragement to you.

“I want more,” You tell him meekly, but the sincerity in you is palpable. Hesitantly, you decide to take initiative as your hands find their way to slither upward to his chest until they latch on the sides of his neck. “and I want you to kiss me.”

His heart soars at how adorable you are, but soon, the darkness inside of him takes control, wanting nothing more than to ruin you by the time he is done with you. Ruin for anyone to take you. Ruin for his best friends to fuck you.

He presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss, savouring the taste of cherry on your lips that has him kissing you with such fervour. Your skin tingles as his hand roams around your body before it rests on the side of your thigh, palming and squeezing the flesh in appreciation.

Satisfaction spreads across his chest as he hums into the kiss at the fact that you remembered his request that you wear fishnet tights.

As he pulls his lips away from yours, you gasp, feeling utterly breathless by the kiss. Your eyes are dazed as he retrieves the knife from the side without you knowing what he has planned for you next.

“Now, lovely, you’re going to fuck yourself onto my knife and cum on the handle.” He commands darkly, pulling you out of the trance as nervousness pulses through you.

“W-What?” You are clearly flabbergasted by the absurdity of his command and the abrupt shift in his demeanour. “But Jaeyun─”

Your breath hitches in your throat as the handle of the knife touches your clit before he drags it down to your wet slit. “Don’t disappoint your preacher now. You’re my good church girl, aren’t you?” The subtle derogatory tone in his voice makes you aroused instead of humiliated.

“Yes.” You whisper, subsequently grinding your slick cunt on the handle with his hand gripping the other edge. With each stroke you administer, you become more aroused amidst the fear of the sharp edge cutting your skin.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, refraining from eliciting a moan. But Jake narrows his eyes at you and, without warning, pushes the handle in between your wet folds threateningly. “Don’t you dare silence out your pretty moans.”

A whimper emits from you, but you don’t stop grinding, needing to achieve the prior climax. But the knife’s handle alone is not enough, prompting your thumb to find its way to your aching clit that is in need of relief.

Jake watches you with heavy lust that shrouds his dark gaze as you masturbate. The tendrils of your brunette waves spread above you gracefully while your lidded eyes are reflecting the same desire as his, and soft moans occasionally leave your mouth as you grind on the knife sensually. Your chest heaves up and down, allowing his eyes to marvel at the plumpness of your breasts, which are still adorned with a black lace bra.

Oh, you are most definitely his wet dream.

“Jaeyun.” Your pretty moan pulls him out of the trance, and when he looks down at you, your eyes are glistening with needy tears. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it, lovely.” He leans down to place a wet kiss on your lips that leaves you wanting more of him. “Wanna see you cum all over this knife.”

He swats your thumb away from your clit and assists you, his thumb circling your clit deliberately fast that has your stomach twist in a knot while his other hand, which is holding the knife, unrelentingly slides up and down on your wet folds.

“J-Jaeyun!” You moan out, throwing your head to the back with your hands now latching onto your breasts to palm them, unintentionally giving him a show to marvel at. With how skillful his thumb is, you feel your orgasm impending.

“Come on, lovely. Cum.” He nearly growls out his command as he quickens the pace of his thumb on your clit, and at once, your thighs slightly tremble as you finally come undone while you roll your eyes to the back.

His tongue slides across his bottom lip as he gazes down, enthralled by the sight of your cum leaking from your wet folds before they drip down to the handle. You whimper when you feel the warm handle come into contact with your folds as he uses it to scoop some of your essence.

Jake brings the handle to your lips. “Open.” On his command, you do, and you are caught off guard when he inserts the handle into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. “Lick your cum.”

Despite the sticky sensation on your tongue that you find disgusting, your tongue begins to lick and swirl around to capture the remnants of your cum. All the while, your eyes remain fixated on Jake’s, wanting to please him.

His eyes darken with something primal at the image of you sucking and licking his cock the way you do now, but he’ll leave that for the others to teach you, because right now, the only thing he needs is to be inside of you.

He pulls the handle away from your mouth and tosses it elsewhere on the bed before slamming his lips on yours, forcing his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth and licking the remnants of your cum on your tongue. You moan into the lewd kiss, your hands roaming around his body.

“I’m gonna fuck you raw now,” He murmurs against your wet lips before pulling away. “and I’ll be fucking you as ghostface.”

Your heart quickens in anticipation, and the excitement dancing in your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by him as he retrieves his mask at the side, chuckling darkly at you. “Yeah? You like the idea of a serial killer fucking you, baby?”

You don’t answer as you watch him shed the mask, obscuring his charming countenance. He unzips his pants and allows them to fall to the ground, prompting you to look at his lower region in surprise to see the visible thickness through the material of his boxer brief.

You look away as soon as he pulls it down. You feel him spreading your thighs once more, and this time, something warm and heavy taps onto your clit causes your body to jolt at the pleasurable sensation. He does it again and again, enjoying how your body responds just by the tip of his cock hitting your clit.

“Please.” You plead in a whimper, hating how he teases you. You attempt to entice him by sensually moving your hips.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He grins behind his mask, collecting the wetness from your folds and using it as lubricant before slowly inserting his dick into your inviting hole that welcomes him, but the tightness is still there, eliciting a hiss from him. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

Your jaw slackens at the girth of his shaft, feeling the thickness that your walls are having a hard time accommodating to his size. A fallen teardrop streaks on your cheek, alarming him.

“It’ll be all right in a moment.” He cups the side of your face, using his thumb to wipe away the tear on your cheek. He grunts as he continues to breach your entry. Your tightness is driving him crazy. “Just gotta get you adjusted to my cock─” Your cunt finally envelopes him wholly. “There we go.” A satisfied groan rumbles deep from his chest, relishing the way your warm walls hug his cock.

As he slowly thrusts into you, the pain you are feeling is unlike any other. You underestimated his thickness.

More tears are collecting in the rims of your eyes as he drags his cock along your walls, but his constant whisper of reassurances and the way he is cradling your cheek with care alleviate the pain temporarily before it transitions into something you discern pleasure in.

Your hand flies to grip onto his bicep for support, feeling his muscle beneath your touch flex.

Upon hearing feeble moans from your lips, he begins to pick up the pace, thrusting into you fervently with an insatiable hunger for you. His fingers dig into your skin at your hips painfully, but it is an addictive pain you relish.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me hard, baby.” His husky voice sends your heart fluttering. He grabs one of your legs and holds it to his shoulder, his hand squeezing your calf while you are a tad surprised by how flexible you are. “Talk to me, lovely. Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“So, so good.” The sound of your adorable whine has him clenching his jaw, and a loud moan comes from your throat as he snaps his hips against your bum, burying himself to the hilt. “Jaeyun!”

“Fuck, baby.” He grits his teeth as he feels your walls clamping around him tight, as though they never want to let go. “Scream my name again.”

Jake withdraws his cock from you, leaving only the tip to remain in between your folds, before delivering a hard thrust into you with his hips slapping the back of your thighs painfully. You scream his name again before moaning his name like a mantra as he continues to fuck you.

You whimper with tears streaming down your cheeks as you stare at him, loving the pain and pleasure he is giving you. He grabs your other leg to his shoulder and encases your calf with his arms in a lock before fucking deeply into you in a mating press that nearly has your body folded into half.

For a moment, your jaw goes slacken with silent moans emitting from your lips while your eyes go white as they roll to the back in pure ecstasy, feeling the way he is splitting you open.

With high-pitched moans leaking from your nearly drooled lips, you feel the familiar impending orgasm knocking violently on the door. “Jaeyun!” You begin to scream his name over and over, which sounds euphonious to his ears.

“Yeah? You’re close, lovely?” He asks mockingly, fucking into you without any ounce of mercy while his raging cock is in dire need of release, especially with the way your walls are quivering around him. but he holds himself back from cumming so easily. “Fucking cum all over my cock.”

At his command, you release a high-pitched moan as you come undone for the second time, your thighs quivering in his grasp. You take note of how he rubs your thigh almost affectionately.

You whimper weakly, feeling exhausted from the events that happened tonight, but he is unrelentingly fucking into you. “Jaeyun, no more.” You plead helplessly, and yet, your arousal eventually returns to you the heat of your core despite your sensitivity.

“I’ll stop whenever I want to.” He snarls, chasing for his orgasm, his thighs hitting harshly at the back of your thighs and ass as they jiggle before delivering one last harsh thrust and withdrawing from you. His hand latches around his raging cock to rub it fast before sprouts of his cum emerge from the tip, aiming it at your tummy.

“Fuck yes.” He moans out breathily, sending you a flutter at how good he sounds.

The sensation of his sticky cum on your tummy sends you shivers down your spine. Your eyes lazily glance down, only to be rendered appalled by the girth of his cock as it remains pointed towards you. His two fingers scoop his cum from your tummy to bring it to your lips.

Automatically, your lips part open for him to shove his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to swallow his cum while you remain in eye contact with the eye sockets of his mask.

You moan, licking his fingers, and your tongue swirls around them. You look so fucking innocent with the way your doe eyes are staring at him while you suckle and lick the cum off his fingers like a good slut. His cock starts to harden again.

He pulls his fingers away from your mouth and slaps your thigh. “Get up. We aren’t done.” He says sternly as he unzips his bomber jacket and tosses them aside, revealing his fine glory of toned abdominal muscles that allow your eyes to feast on.

Your eyes trail to the ink tattooed on his right collarbone, an interesting yet beautiful design of a snake.

His hand latches around your forearm to assist you in standing, and when you do, you wobble lightly, but you don’t have time to process anything when he pulls you down. This time, he has you settled on his lap, directly where his cock is.

He grabs his shaft to smack it on your sticky tummy while you hear his low, ragged breaths behind his mask. “You’re going to ride me and take me like the good church girl you are while you confess your sins to me.”

Your breath hitches, feeling him tap his cock on your sensitive clit with his hand on your waist, holding you up slightly as he aims it at your awaiting cunt before he forces you to sink down to his girth, eliciting a moan from you due to the fullness. His cock remains snugly fitted into your pulsating cunt.

“Whenever you are ready.” He says in mockery as he slaps your quivering thigh again. “And I don’t want to see you stop fucking on me.”

With a shaky breath, you grind on him tentatively, unsure if what you’re doing is the right way, but with his hand on your hip serving as an aid, you gain confidence and begin to bounce on him.

“Forgive me, Father,” You struggle to form out the sentence, swallowing a moan at the delirious friction of your walls getting assaulted by the girth of his cock. Your hands latch on his nape for support while your head is tilted to the back, moaning out before speaking shakily again, “for I have sinned.”

“And what are your sins?” Jake asks in between bated breaths, struggling to refrain himself from bucking his hips to meet your thrust.

“For being a hypocrite,” The words fly out of your mouth, as though another person is speaking through you. You bounce on him again, practically using him as you fuck him. “For masturbating myself last night─ Nngh!” You moan as soon as Jake bucks his hips to meet your thrust.

“Did you, now, lovely?” He chuckles darkly, now removing his mask and allowing you to marvel at his chiselled features that glisten with sweat on his skin. The long strands of his hair look damp, but you yearn to run your fingers through them.

“Y-Yes!” You gasp out as he thrusts again, and this deep, you can feel the tip hitting your cervix.

“What else?” He murmurs, his hand traversing your body until it finds the back of your bra before he unclips it expertly. With your assistance, he pulls the bra away from you and tosses it elsewhere.

You lose focus at the moment he leans forward to latch his hot mouth on your perky nipple, licking and sucking it with a hum that sends vibration through your body. His strong arm is encasing your waist to hold you in place, pulling you impossibly closer to his body while he continues to thrust up into you, and the other hand goes to fondle your other boob that is in need of attention.

With his administration on your boobs, you now realise that you are sensitive to having your boobs and nipples played with, which add fuel to your impending orgasm that is threatening to crash down at any moment of time.

Hearing no response from you with the exception of breathy moans from your lips, Jake withdraws from your now glistening nipple and smacks your thigh, causing your body to jolt.

“I said, what else? Including your worst confession.” He demands in a soft tone, such a contrast to the way he is bouncing you on his cock while occasionally smacking your thighs. “Tell me while I baptise your thighs till it hurts.” He smirks cockily before leaning down your chest to capture the silver cross in between his teeth.

Your walls tighten around his cock upon seeing how hot he looks, gazing sultry at you with the silver cross remaining in between his teeth and some of his long strands sticking to his forehead, yet you can discern his mischief.

Tears begin to leak from your eyes at how painfully he smacks your thighs, yet you don’t stop fucking yourself deeply on him, allowing his tip to bruise your cervix. “Forgive me, Father, for I have committed a despicable sin,” You manage to utter in between bated breaths and whimpers, and your body jolts again as his palm lands another smack on your now reddened thigh. “A sin that I swore to protect and reserved my chastity for the one marrying me.”

Something snaps inside of Jake as soon as those words leave your mouth. The green infuses the red in him, driving him to grip your buttcheeks tightly before bringing you down with him as his back hits the mattress.

“Jake!” You scream as he thrusts into you with a newfound vigour, bottoming you with your skin slapping his loudly and your boobs pressed against his warm, solid chest.

“Wrong name again, baby.” With one hand remaining gripping your buttcheek, the other makes its ascent to grab a fist of your hair, tugging your head to the back before he leans up to pepper his kisses all over your throat.

You gasp in pain as his teeth bite down on your skin. “Jaeyun! That hurt!”

Jake releases your skin, allowing you to fall your head to the nook of his sticky neck. Your lips continue to emit moans and whimpers as he bottoms out harder, wanting to feel you deeply again.

“Just a little more.” He grits his teeth as his jaw clenches, feeling your walls clamp around him as you come undone for the third time of the night. You slump weakly against him, your breaths labouring.

But Jake doesn’t relent. He continues to piston in and out, his hands gripping your buttcheeks deliciously to bring you down on his dick, before he lands a hard smack on your ass as it echoes throughout his room.

Jake grunts out a moan as he quickly unsheathes his dick from your quivering cunt before familiar white cum sprouts from the tip messily on his bedsheets.

“Jaeyun, wait.” You mumble weakly as you feel him manhandling you into a different position, now finding yourself laying on him with your back against his. He ignores your protest, spreading your thighs wide before grabbing his cock to aim into your spent pussy.

“I told you, lovely,” He rasps beside your ear as he inserts his cock back into you, and your velvety walls welcome him once more despite your pathetic protests. “that I'm gonna fuck you all night."

With his hands gripping your hips, he proceeds to thrust up into you while your jaw goes slacken again. Your hands claw at his forearms, squirming to get away from him despite his strength that outweighs yours.

Your defiance has led him to smack down your trembling thigh, and eventually, you surrender, slumping against him while allowing him to fuck into you as though you’re a sexdoll.

“I’m close.” He whispers beside your ear as he migrates his hand to your cunt and rubs your clit. The other ascends to fondle your boob and tweak your nipple, rolling them between his fingers. The pleasure from both his cock destroying your cunt and his hand assaulting your boob is intensifying. “Cum with me, angel.” He says gently, placing a soft kiss on your temple.

The familiar knot twists in your abdomen before your whole body trembles as you come undone again. He unsheathes his cock from your hole and shoots his cum messily everywhere on your thighs and your outer womanhood.

You remain motionless on top of him with your body trembling from the overstimulation while your breathing is laboured and your lidded eyes are dazed from all the fucking. You hear him breathing heavily, and you feel his heart beating violently against your back. Butterflies flutter around your tummy at the sensation of his touch on your skin as he rubs your inner thighs soothingly.

Everything hurts, and yet, it is the kind of hurt you have grown addicted to and undoubtedly leaves you wanting more.

His fingers grip your chin gently as he turns your head to face him before his lips envelope yours in a kiss that has your toes curling. He kisses you sweetly with fervour, as though he is apologising for being a little rough on you. His hand is rubbing your thigh while the other wraps around your waist protectively.

“You did so well, lovely.” He purrs against your lips before resuming to kiss you ravenously, not having enough of the way you taste. Your heart flutters at his praise. He withdraws from your swollen lips before manhandling you again, and this time, he has you settled beneath him while he hoists one of your legs over his shoulder.

You watch with a fluttering heart as he presses a gentle kiss on your calf and returns his gaze to your face. “You should wear fishnet tights often. You look really good with them.” His sincerity does something to you, as it also distracts you from the familiar split-feeling of his cock breaching your cunt once more.

“But my thighs are thick. They look ugly on them.” You admit that your cheeks flush pink in embarrassment, but you notice how his eyes darken dangerously again.

“You’re perfect the way you are.” He says softly while his thrusts feel slow and deliberate, as though he is taking his time to savour the velvety walls engulfing him. “Don’t ever change yourself. You,” Thrust! “Are,” Thrust! “Fucking perfect.” Thrust!

Lust clouds your head once more while your breathing gets heavier with each passing second, but you feel the exertion of his previous fucks into you dawning on your body.

“Eyes on me.” He orders sternly, and with a weak moan at the way he drags his cock deliciously along your walls, you do. A smirk touches his lips before he snaps his hips against yours painfully. “Good fucking girl. My sweet angel, all for me to fuck and ruin.”

Your eyes roll to the back with your neck bare for his eyes to feast on before he leans down to kiss your neck sensually, licking your skin and leaving marks in his wake.

With your head turned sideways as he continues to fuck into you harder and assaults your neck with his kisses, something captures your attention that causes your eyes to widen. Thanks to the moonlight streaming into his window, you manage to catch a glimpse of a familiar red mask on his table.

The very same mask belongs to one of your predators on Devil’s Night.

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When the next day arrives, you remain in the state of your deep slumber, completely spent from last night, as your body aches tremendously and your thighs are sore from being smacked relentlessly.

You stir lightly in your sleep with your face contorting into confusion, but there is a jolting pleasure from your lower region. Your eyes remain closed behind your heavy eyelids, and as a soft moan leaves your lips, your hips automatically buck up, wanting to feel the delirious sensation of a wet muscle flickering your aching clit.

The last thing you remember is you coming undone for the ninth time and Jake carrying your half-conscious body into the bathroom after giving you the best fuck of your life that you will probably remember for the next few weeks.

You flutter your eyelids open, and the familiar sight of his white-painted ceiling greets you. With your naked form displayed on his bed, your nipples harden from the cold air conditioner and from the way a certain someone is lapping your slick cunt from below.

“Jaeyun.” You moan breathily, grinding your hips as he delves into your cunt before pulling back to spit on your clit and catching it with his tongue. Your hands fondle your boobs while you spread your legs widely for him, which has him humming as he suckles your clit.

He resumes lapping your slick cunt as though he is a hungry caveman, and you come sooner than you like, but your eyes widen in shock as he is unrelenting. His chin sheens with your essence, and by now, he is practically drooling all over your cunt.

The sight itself should feel disgusting to you, but you find yourself being enthralled by how hot he looks with half of his face sheens with your cum as soon as he pulls away.

His dark eyes meet yours as they swirl with lust and desire for you, and a smirk smears across his slightly swollen and moist lips. “Good afternoon, sweet angel.”

You marvel at the handsome sight of him in a black-fitting tee that accentuates the muscles on his body and the chain necklace hooked around his neck while his long, dishevelled strands hover over his forehead.

You don't mind waking up to this mouth-watering sight every day.

Before you can open your mouth with the intention to speak about him being one of your predators on Devil's Night, he silences you with his lips, locking yours in a searing kiss, allowing you to taste yourself.

Your fingers find their way to tangle and tug at his soft strands, and your heart flutters as he chuckles breathily against your lips at how needy you are chasing him with his lips as though you are famished.

The sound of his ringtone shatters the heated moment between the two of you, causing him to groan against your lips. Without pulling away from the kiss, his hand reaches out to grab his phone at the side, and his finger presses on the accept button.

He pulls away from your lips just slightly to shift his attention on his phone and presses on speaker mode. “Fuck off, I’m busy.” Jake says to the caller on the line in a pissed-off tone, startling you by his change in demeanour.

“Okay, I see. This is how you repay us for cleaning up your mess.” Jungwon’s sarcasm is discernible.

“What do you want?” Jake asks him gruffly as he tilts your chin to face him once more for him to resume kissing you. You whimper as he playfully nips at your bottom lip before probing his tongue into your mouth while his hand is tweaking and pinching your nipple.

“Jaeyun.” You whisper his name against his lips, wanting to warn him about the obscene sound of your lips smacking against each other’s lips. It is noticeable for Jungwon to realise the reason why Jake is occupied.

But Jake doesn’t give a fuck. He continues to kiss you sloppily before trailing his kisses down to your chest, his hand fondling the plumpness of your boob while the other nipple is occupied with his lips and tongue licking and flickering the bud.

“Listen, I don’t really give a damn about what you and the others want to do, but try to be subtle. I’d hate for Wonyoung to complain and whine at me. Just for your information, she cares greatly for Y/N.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of your best friend and your name, but the curiosity that sparks earlier diminishes when Jake presses his clothed groin against your pussy before he slowly grinds on it.

“Yeah, yeah, now fuck off. I’m very busy.” Jake dismisses Jungwon with a scowl, but as his eyes return to your dazed ones, he smirks down at you before grinding deliberately again, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“Seriously?” You hear the annoyance in Jungwon’s voice before the line goes off, allowing Jake to finally focus on you.

“You’re making me very hard, angel.” Jake groans, loving how your cunt is already leaking with the essence just by him grinding. “No one has ever made me hard the way you do, lovely.”

“I’m still sore, Jaeyun.” You mutter weakly, your lips forming into a small pout that entices him to kiss you, and he does.

"Mmhmm, I bet you are, baby.” He rasps against your lips, his tongue grazing across your bottom lip, while your fingers make their ascent to fiddle with his chain necklace hanging above your chest. “Want me to fuck you again?”

“N-No.” The hesitation in your shaky voice deepens his smirk.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you good?” He tugs and removes his black tee before tossing it aside. Your eyes feast greedily on his fine glory again, and this time, your fingers graze across his abdominal muscles to feel him while he watches you endearingly.

“I’m exhausted, Jaeyun.” You deliver another lie that contradicts your leaking cunt, which is in desperate need of being stuffed full by his cock.

“I’ll do all the work, baby.” Removing his last garment, his heavy cock slaps down on your wet folds, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. He leans to kiss you once more before murmuring sweetly as he slowly thrust into you, “Just lie down and take it like the good girl you are, sweet angel.”

Least to say that you have a hard time walking with your sore thighs aching tremendously by the time he’s done with you.

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After Jake had dropped you off at your dorm, the time struck nine p.m. Fortunately, you have no classes today or tomorrow, so you can take advantage of that to get ample rest.

Apparently, the two of you got caught up in the intense heat. You lost count of the amount of orgasm he managed to bring out of you. Jake fucked you on his bed, in the shower, and even in the kitchen, where you were searching for something to eat, but your hunger was forgotten the moment he seduced you with his dark allure and fucked you from behind.

Even after he had destroyed your pussy, each time he inserted his dick into you, your walls never failed to feel tight around him, as though they were too attached and never wanted to let go of him.

While waiting for the elevator to open, you look at your phone screen, where the camera shows your face. Your eyes widen in disbelief at the noticeable lines of hickeys on one side of your neck. Fresh, purple, and red hickeys.

Your cheeks flush in pink at the realisation that your first crush had stolen your virginity as you tuck your phone in the pocket of your pleated skirt.

Soon, a certain ambience of melancholy envelopes you. Despite him giving you the best fuck of your life, you can’t erase the image of him killing Simon with no remorse or whatsoever and their lifeless bodies in pools of blood. It was as though Jake had done this before with how he killed your bullies impeccably.

A part of you so badly wants to feel some form of sympathy, but instead, you feel like a weight is lifted off your shoulder, relieved by the fact that your three bullies won’t be bothering you ever again. You know that killing is a heinous act and sinful, but you can’t deny the fact that there is a tinge of gratitude in you for Jake.

You release a deep sigh before stepping out of the elevator to head in the direction of your dorm, and subsequently, you feel dreadful about facing your best friends, but you know you can’t hide from them forever.

Speaking of friends, your eyes widen in realisation as you have yet to reply to Winter. You whip out your phone again.

Y/N: Come over tomorrow, and then I’ll tell you.

Just as you shove your phone into your pocket, you stop in front of the door before mustering courage and proceeding to enter with tense shoulders. When you venture further, the sight that beholds you causes your eyebrow to raise.

Wonyoung has her head resting on Jungwon’s thigh, her gaze is trained on the animated television. Jungwon is leaning against the couch comfortably, his hand is occupied with his phone while the other is absentmindedly running his fingers through her soft locks, but his face is tinged with apparent boredom. Neither of them seem to realise your presence by the living, and you grasp the opportunity to stealthily trace your way to your bedroom.

You have been holding back a scoff since the moment you saw them all so comfortable with each other. You can’t help but feel the slightest resentment towards Wonyoung, who has always been adamantly insistent on refusing to affiliate herself with any of the knights.

As soon as you enter your room and close the door quietly, you proceed to take a quick shower, scrubbing every inch of your body. No matter how many scrubs you do, you swear you can feel the heat of his touch on your skin that remains lingering, even after you step out of the shower, all fresh and anew.

Feeling the exertion once more, you waste no time bringing yourself to your inviting bed that you have missed dearly before throwing yourself on the mattress, your face planting down on your pillow.

Just when you are about to snuggle into your fleecy pillow, a knock startles you. Whoever is at the door surely must have seen the lights beneath the space of your door.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N.” Wonyoung’s voice elicits a groan from you. “I’m coming in.”

You silently berate yourself for not locking the door earlier. As she pushes open the door, you turn away from her, attempting to hide your hickeys from her sight.

You hear the frustration in her sigh. “We really need to talk.”

“Has Jungwon left yet?” You ask curtly, your back is facing her as you fiddle with your soft toy. “What was he even doing here anyway? He’s your boyfriend or something?”

There are a couple beats of silence from her before she speaks in a wavering tone. “None of your business. We’re not here to talk about him. We’re here to talk about your disappearance since last night. Where were you?”

You scoff lightly as you stop your fingers from fiddling with your soft toy. “None of your business.” You use her words against her.

“Can you look at me when I’m speaking to you?” Though it is meant to be a question, the way she asks feels demanding, bringing a frown to your lips.

“Can you get out of my room?”

“For God’s sake, Y/N Kang─” Wonyoung stops mid-sentence at the moment you finally turn around to display your annoyance for her. Her sharp gaze immediately spots the lines of hickeys decorating your dainty neck. “What the hell, Y/N?”

Your eyes narrow at the near judgement in her tone. “I’m really tired, Wonyoung. We can talk some other time─”

“Who did you sleep with?” Wonyoung cuts you sharply, causing you to flinch lightly with her tone. “Who the hell did you sleep with last night, Y/N Kang? Was it one of the knights?”

It is as though there is a switch in your behaviour as you begin to lash out at her. “Fine, you really want to know? I slept with Sim Jaeyun.” Your declaration earns a shocking gasp from her, and it appears the volume of your voice attracts your other roommates’ attention as they emerge from behind Wonyoung.

“Our Y/N did what now?” Karina asks, her eyes bulging as she peeks her head over Wonyoung’s shoulder to stare at you.

“You’re bluffing.” Yunjin scoffs in disbelief, refusing to believe that you, a literal saint, have slept with one of the knights’ leaders.

“Believe what you want, but that doesn’t erase the fact that I still slept with him.”

“And you’re proud of that?” Wonyoung gives you an incredulous glare. “Y/N, we’ve told you countless times to stay away from any of them! Especially their leaders! What even spurred you to sleep with Jake Sim?!”

“Does it ever occur to you that I have needs just as the rest of you do?” You say tersely, hating the visible judgement in their eyes. “Don’t be a hypocrite when you girls are affiliating yourself with the same bunch of delinquents that you have been warning me to stay away from.”

“That’s because you’re different!” Wonyoung retorts harshly. “Because you’re not─”

“I’m not like you girls, is that what you were about to say?” You release a derisive laugh that sounds foreign to your ears. You clench a fist. “Was that why you girls befriended me in the first place? Because you pitied me and took me in so others could have some laughs and belittle me for becoming part of your cliques when I didn’t even seem fitting in to them.”

“You’ve misunderstood, Y/N.” Yunjin steps forward, and her once serious gaze softens. “We didn’t want you to become fucked up like us.”

“You can’t fool me.” You shake your head. “If anything, you girls seem perfectly fine.”

“You’re wrong. We’ve been keeping that side of us from you because we didn’t want for you to be affected and drained.” Karina offers you a weak smile. “It’s also the reason why I broke up with him — because he’s a knight. But despite breaking up with him two years ago, it resulted in me becoming mentally unstable.”

“Once you’re deeply involved with any of them, there is no way out.” Yunjin tells you, her tone sounds as grave as Karina’s. A bitter chuckle leaves her lips. “Look at me. I’m still pathetically clinging to the hope that Yeonjun will reciprocate my feelings.”

Your frown deepens, and at the same time, your mind clicks upon finally realising who Yunjin had fucked with on Devil’s Night. “You and Yeonjun were together this whole time?”

Yunjin smiles weakly. “It’s complicated because I’m not even certain of what to label us. Friends with benefits, situationship or whatever But the main thing is that being deeply involved with any of them will take a huge toll on your mental health.”

“Jungwon and I are not in a relationship.” Wonyoung finds herself confessing after contemplating for a few minutes. “In a way, my situation is similar to Yunjin. It’s a constant push and pull. Some days he seems to want me, while other days he acts like he hates me as if I’m a parasite.”

You bask in silence as you allow their words to soak into your muddling mind. To finally know of your best friends’ being affiliated with the knights has you resenting them a little for keeping you in the dark, because Karina doesn’t seem surprised at all upon their revelation. You begin to ponder if your other friends know about this or if they themselves are involved with the knights as well.

Maybe because you’re exhausted and want nothing more than to bury yourself into the pillow, but you really want to get this over with. You sigh. “Then why didn’t you girls just leave? If they don’t want you, shouldn’t that make things easier for you to leave them since they have also given you reasons why you deserve better?” You ask gently upon noticing the vulnerability shining in Yunjin and Wonyoung’s eyes.

“Like Yunjin said, it’s complicated, but at the end of the day, I know that I’m madly in love with him.” Wonyoung gives you a tight smile. “You’ll probably understand it sooner since you’ve begun becoming close to Jake.”

“We really didn’t want this for you and for you to end up like us, but you have free will, so we’re no longer going to decide things for you.” Yunjin says firmly before retreating to her room.

“It may get addictive at first, but trust me when I say you’ll be regretting it.” Wonyoung warns you. “Once things get badly fucked up, I’m not going to be there to comfort you since you should’ve known better.”

With Wonyoung’s one last look into your eyes, your heart slowly breaks into pieces as you can feel the last few strings that are holding your friendship together threaten to snap, and you know that things between you and Wonyoung will never be the same.

“Just a word of advice to be wary of Jake if you have plans on pursuing him.” Karina’s voice draws your attention to her, and you find her leaning sideways against the door with her arms folded across her chest. “I’ve heard some nasty things about him, but the worst of all is that he has a tendency to love-bomb girls.”

Before you can even ask for her to elaborate, Karina proceeds to head to her room, leaving you alone with your muddled mind. A part of you refuses to believe that Jake Sim is not as bad as your best friends described him. You have an inkling of what love-bombing is since Winter and Liz have talked about it.

In denial, you grab your phone to send him a text, still motivated and refusing to believe your best friends.

Y/N: Hey, Jaeyun. Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”

JAEYUN: I’m surprised you texted me first. Already missing me, lovely? :)

Y/N: If I say I do?

JAEYUN: Don’t tempt me into coming over to your place, lovely, because I'm this close. To answer your question, I’ll be hanging out with the guys, so I’ll see you around campus on Thursday.

As you and Jake continue the conversation, giggles occasionally emit from you, making you feel giddy just by texting him alone and him flirting with you through the text. Your best friends are wrong about him. Even you can tell how eager and attentive he is through his texts alone.

WINTER: I have some tea to spill.

Y/N: What is it? I’m missing out on a good joke made by Jaeyun.

WINTER:.....girl, as much as I would love to ship the two of you (because, trust me, y’all look so good with each other), Jake is actually an asshole. I’ll explain whenever we meet since I can't come to meet you tomorrow.

Your curiosity just grows tenfold, and you need to learn more about why she claimed that Jake is an asshole. The same Jake Sim, whose eyes are filled with kindness whenever he stares into yours, whose cheeky grin adorns his charming countenance that never fails to make your heart go fluttery.

Your attention is pulled by another text from Winter.

WINTER: You know what? I’m just going to tell you half of the tea here instead. I collected some information from two girls he slept with before. They warned about getting close to him, especially after fucking him, because he’d only lead you on, and once you fell for his trap, that’s when he’d completely ghost you. Essentially, love bombing you.

Y/N: I don’t get it. Karina told me the same thing, but you girls don’t know him like I do.

WINTER: Babe, you’ve just met him and got closer not too long ago. You should leave him before he leaves you instead. Do you know that word has it: he is clinically diagnosed with borderline personality disorder? It makes perfect sense why he is the way he is.

Y/N: I don’t care what you all have to say, but I’m not gonna leave him.

You release an angry huff as you shut your phone before deciding to lie down on the bed. You hate how they all seem so adamantly insistent on trying to get you to leave Jake.

There is no denying that you are already emotionally attached to Sim Jaeyun, so you couldn’t help but defend him, but what struck you deeply was his kindness during your very first meeting with him. You recall his kind gaze and mirthful grin on his countenance when you first conversed with each other, and the sincerity in his tone when he wished you the best throughout your time in Crestview Meadows.

No, the Sim Jaeyun you know is not an asshole.

The familiar ringtone of your phone disrupts your train of thought. You lazily reach out to grab your phone, and when you see the ID caller on the screen, the frown on your lips transitions into a smile before you keenly accept his call and press your phone against your ear.

“Hey, I was wondering if you were okay.” Jake’s husky voice through your phone alone manages to send the familiar flutters to your heart. “You didn’t reply to my last text.”

“I’m fine, Jaeyun.” You tell him, your voice coming out soft. “I’m just tired. By the way, I forgot to thank you for the aftercare.”

“Anytime, Y/N. Besides, there is no way I would leave my girl just like that.” His breathy chuckles cause your smile to widen.

“Your girl?” You ask, playfulness tinges your voice.

Jake hums attractively. “That’s right. You’re my girl, Y/N.” You detect something dark and dangerous that belies his tone. “Get more sleep, yeah? I don’t want my girl to wake up completely lethargic tomorrow.”

“Okay, Jaeyun.” Little do you know that your obedience draws a wicked smirk on his lips.

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Two days have passed since you ever had a proper conversation with your other three roommates, but it was mostly you avoiding them. As for Winter, she remains the same, but the judgement in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you when you hung out with her yesterday with Rei, Kazuha, and Giselle.

You have been ignoring the small voice in the back of your mind telling you that it isn’t worth it to strain your friendship with them for a man.

They were wrong about Jake. Even when the next day arrived, he never failed to greet you through his texts and occasionally flirted with you, but you could see that he wanted to continue the conversation with you.

But the odd thing is, he hasn’t been replying to your texts since this morning. You tried calling him once, but it went into voicemail. All the while, your stomach churns with uneasiness.

Now you’re in quite a dilemma. What is your relationship with him? Are you his friends with benefits? Does he see you the way you see him? Does he want you the way you want him to?

Hence, you decide to put an end to all of these questions jumbling your mind by going on a little adventure to find Jake in the science, technological, and engineering building. Your keen eyes dart everywhere, looking for a certain male with long hair strands that you wish to skim your fingers through again.

Annoyance bubbles within you before you decide to muster courage and ask a familiar knight member strolling in your vicinity.

“Have you seen Jake?” You ask him, and your question has him raising his eyebrow.

His eyes scrutinise you for a minute. “He’s in our main quarter.” To your surprise, he nudges his head, beckoning you to follow him, and you do.

The way to the devil’s knights’ main quarter is confusing, but thankfully, it doesn’t take you more than fifteen minutes to reach.

“You’re lucky Heeseung and Sunghoon aren’t inside, or you’ll probably get kicked out by them.” He murmurs to you before opening the door for you.

You cast him a kind smile that caught him off guard. “Thanks, Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu blinks his eyes, faltering at the sight of your smile. “Uhh, you’re welcome?”

You look away from him and proceed to enter. Your jaw goes unhinged at how palatial their main quarter is, and it even consists of two floors. You spot a few knight members on the second floor, and your presence draws their attention to you, but your gaze is fixed intently on a certain someone who is capable of making your heart all fluttery.

But this time, your heart has a discernible crack. There is Jake, seated on the couch and in a heated lip-lock with a girl you don’t recognise. His hands are roaming around her body, reminding you of when he touched you like that. The sound of their lips smacking against each other seems to break your heart piece by piece.

“Y/N, did you find him?” Beomgyu’s voice can be heard from behind, but you are too busy reeling in heartbreak.

It appears that the volume of Beomgyu’s voice manages to reach Jake's ears as the latter pulls away from the kiss, and when his eyes lock with yours at the instant, your heart breaks even more at the lust glinting in his eyes that is meant for the girl in his possession.

“Jaeyun.” You utter his name numbly, and naturally, you expect him to panic and rush over to you to explain, but instead, a cold smirk is drawn on his swollen pink lips.

“What is she doing here, babe?” The girl on his lap glares at you, her lips curling into a sneer as she scans you from head to toe. The distaste is apparent in her gaze.

“How could you?” You manage to find your voice, but it comes out shaky as you refrain from getting emotional.

“How could I what?” His voice holds zero affection for you, and as you stare at him with glistening eyes, he looks entirely different from the Jake you know. His smirk persists while his eyes are filled with an unfamiliar coldness.

You hate how he is staring at you indifferently. It's like he's a stranger.

“I thought I meant something to you.” You say, and a painful lump is stuck in your throat. “I thought we had something─”

“Don’t be delusional, Y/N. Just because we fucked, you thought you meant something to me?” Jake’s cold chuckles sound foreign to you. He continues to gaze at you dangerously cold while his hand is stroking the girl’s waist, causing your tears to finally leak from your eyes. “You’re nothing special, Y/N. Besides, you’re not even close to being my type.”

“What is wrong with you?” You step forward as you clench a fist. “You’re not like this. You’re acting like a complete jerk now.”

Something dark and twisted lurks behind his eyes that you once loved to gaze at. “I told you before that you have no idea who I really am. Now get out and don’t forget to close the door, yeah?”

“Screw you.” You don’t even have time to be surprised by the hatred in your tone as you immediately dash out of their quarter, ignoring Beomgyu’s calling for you.

A sob is threatening to escape from you as more tears stream down your cheeks. The knights in your vicinity shoot you odd looks, but you are too distraught by your newfound heartbreak.

You thought you had something with him, especially when the two of you spent all night talking, texting, and flirting over the phone. You thought you were his girl.

You should have known that, at the end of the day, his playboy tendencies persist and that he will always be a womaniser. You should have listened to your best friends who did warn you, but just like Jake said earlier, you’re delusional.

Amidst the sadness, you wallow in self-hatred. Hatred for falling into his schemes and for allowing him to take away your virginity.

Your shoulder accidentally bumps into a figure, and just as you are about to walk past him, he grabs your arm firmly, prompting you to turn your head to look at him through your tearful eyes, your vision blurring with each blink.

“What are you doing here by our quarter?” Sunghoon’s cold voice doesn’t even deter you, as does the clear distaste in his expression towards you. But the moment he sees your eyes red and slightly swollen from the crying, something stirs within him that feels foreign. It almost feels like he feels sympathetic for you.

“What happened?” He finds himself asking this, and he has no idea why. His grip on your arm becomes tight.

“Don’t act like you care.” You sniffle, refraining from ugly sobbing in front of the very person who hates your guts. Once his grip feels loose, you yank your arm from his grasp and flee the knights’ territory, leaving Sunghoon curious about what happened to you.

As for you, your guilty conscience is gnawing at you to seek forgiveness once more, and when the next day arrives, you find yourself entering the familiar church with bloodshot eyes, an obvious sign that you had been crying all night.

Your best friends were right. The Sim Jaeyun you know now is, in fact, an asshole.

TAGLIST: @aishigrey @kgneptun @b3tt7boop @smg-valeria @lhspeachie @enhaverse713586 @strxwbloody @firstclassjaylee @jwnghyuns @luminouskalopsia @deobitifull @loumin908 @sousydive @pinkkami @skzenhalove @caravm @shinrjj @loljaeyunz @star4rin @darkjongsung @mlywon @yorukoshii @nshmrarki @lol6sposts @lilyuwon @enha-crumbs @slut4hee @capri-cuntz

#the devil's knights' prey #enhypen #enhypen poly #jake #heeseung #jay #sunghoon #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #thriller #enhypen jake ghostface

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paint-the-walls-white · 2 months

Text

Mein Liebe

Pairing: König x PlusSized!Reader

Summary: After meeting an incredibly large man, at a McDonalds, every part of life changes thanks to him.

Warnings: BDE! StomachBulge! Doggy! Sideways! Oral(M2F)! CreamPies! Breeding! Lots of biting! SexualHarassment!

König was big. He was always described as mountainous, even towering over the most intimidating members of Task Force 141, Ghost included.

He was very reserved as a person, social anxiety getting the best of him most of the time. But, nonetheless, his team always did their best to push him out of his shell. But at this point they were getting desperate.

Which is why they sent him to McDonalds to get everyone Lunch. He was bitter about it, but he was pretty hungry, and it was only a short drive from the base. Besides, it would be a nice change of pace from the cantina's shit on a plate.

It was supposed to be easy, he even had their orders on a piece of paper. But then the drive through intercom was down, courtesy of TF141 tampering with radio signals in the area.

König had to go inside. It was still fine though, he could always use the kiosks right?

Of course not. A cruel twist of fate really. The local crackhead had caused a ruckus and had broken both of them, shattering the screen.

He'd have to order at the counter.

Heart racing, eyes darting, and breath unsteady, he approached the counter. It was quiet inside, not too busy but not entirely empty either.

But then his heart started pounding for another reason.

The prettiest sight he had ever seen. Bright eyes, shiny hair, soft, plump lips, long eye lashes, and a little weight he could hold onto.

"Hi, welcome to McDonalds, my name is Y/N, what can I get started for you?"

König swallowed sharply, your voice was music to his ears. A sweet melody he would never get sick of. A heavy blush crawled up his neck and face as his eyes dilated.

"U-uh, I need, uh.. Scheise.. Uh Big macs? And uh.. Chicken nuggets."

You nodded, refusing to break eye contact. This hulk of a man was checking all the boxes, even ones you didn't even know you had. Your eyes looked dark with how big your pupils were, attempting to flood your field of vision with this man.

"Ok, what size for those? And is that a Ten or Twenty Piece?"

König swallowed again, his throat impossibly hoarse. "Large. uh.. Twenty please"

"Perfect, and the drinks?" You eyed him through your lashes. You wanted to climb him like a tree for sure, but you also just wanted to lie on him like a mattress and soak in his scent. Gun powder, smoke, and sweet sweet Pine. It was heavenly.

"Just S-Sprites and a Coke.." It was taking so much out of him to talk to you, but he wanted to keep going. If he didn’t, surely the TF141 would laugh at him. Again.

"Alrighty, your total is going to be.. $53.28, Is that going to be for here or to-go?"

You smacked yourself mentally, of course it was to-go, There was literally no one else decked out in military gear there.

"To-go," He watched, almost amused as you flushed in obvious embarrassment.

"Right, of course yeah.." You looked at him again, very intimidated by his gaze, "What's your.. name?"

This broke the intense concentration he had just developed. His name. Why did you want to know his name? Did you want him too? No, there's no way. But then why? What was his name? His name.. oh yeah,

"König."

"Oh, ok.. Is that spelled K-o-n-i-g?"

He gave a curt nod and paid in cash, gingerly brushing against your small hand. The contact did not go unnoticed by you. You shivered a bit and counted out the money hurriedly, hands shaking and face red. You ripped the receipt from the machine and wrote something on it before speaking.

"I-I'll call you when it's ready! Here's your change," You placed the bills in his palm with the receipt and dropped the coins in after, reveling in the warmth of his hand for a second before pulling back and getting the drink cups for him.

"Here are your cups and carrier, I doubled it for you so they won’t fall out."

You were so considerate and sweet. He reveled in your presence, waiting patiently at a booth across from the counter, knee bouncing and hands fiddling with his gloves and Velcro.

After a few minutes of waiting and watching you intently, you called for him,

"König? Your order is ready," You stepped out from behind the counter and approached him. He quickly stood, taking one step to meet your three before offering him the bags.

"Would you like help taking it out? To the car I mean.." You bashfully gnawed on your lip and gazed up at him. He nodded, but truthfully he could have easily carried it all without your help, he just wanted more time with you before he had to leave.

You passed him the last bag and he turned to face you again, gaze intense and completely silent.

"Oh, I have something for you," You reached into your back pocket and pulled out what looked like a small controller with random buttons on it. "It's a fidget toy, I use it when I get anxious too, but you seem like you could use it a bit more.."

He swallowed hard, trying to pass the lump in his throat as he took in every detail of your face.

"Thank you.. Wunderschöne Augen (Gorgeous Eyes).." He muttered the compliment under his mask, eyes shining in awe as dusk hit your bright irises.

"What?" You didn't understand what he said, but the way his eyes were softening and the way his shoulders were relaxing clued you in that it was probably a compliment.

"U-uh.. Your eyes.. They're beautiful.." He averted his gaze. You blushed, averting your gaze as well, muttering a small thank you before you heard yelling from inside.

"Ugh.. Bitch.. Sorry, I have to go.. Duty calls.. haha.."

You waved goodbye and started walking away, "Oh and I left you a little present on your receipt!" Your brazen attempt at flirting caused you to panic internally the rest of your shift.

On the way home, it wasn't any better, you were itching to pick up your phone and see if he had texted you, but you refused on account of your parents dying in a car accident because of texting and driving.

So when you got home you waited, and waited.

But Konig was freaking out so hard. The second he saw you had left your phone number and a little "Call me at 11!" he panicked, speeding back to base where he sat with TF141 barely touching his food as he held the receipt with shaky hands.

Soap, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with his elbow, "What's wrong big fella? Not hungry? Whatchya got there?" he looks at the receipt, eyes widening and a grin spreading across his cheeks, "Oh boy! König here got a girls number!"

König snapped to look at him, eyes dizzy in complete shock, "Gott... was soll ich tun..? (God, what should I do?)"

Gaz spoke up, "Call her you big oaf! she's probably waitin' for ya!"

"But.. It is not 2300 hours.. That is when she said.. to.. to.."

To everyone's surprise Ghost spoke up, "Then eat. Call her at 2300."

Soap patted him on the back, "Lad, I know yer nervous, but listen to Ghostie over 'ere. Give er' a call."

He nodded silently, scarfing down his food before leaving for his room. He anxiously waited until 2300, each minute feeling like agony as he sat there, cell phone in hand, contact pulled up, hovering over the call button.

She sat on her bed, waiting for his call, but at about 10: 50 she decided to give up and rolled over to sleep, her phone next to head. She was so disappointed..

After what felt like forever, she groaned and checked her phone. 10:59. Then 11:00.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, an unknown caller. No way..

Hands shaking, König held the phone up to his ear,

'Hello? König is.. that you..?'

He sucked in a breath at your voice, "Ja, It's me.. How are you..?"

"Mm a bit tired.. but I don't mind staying up to talk to you, I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow.."

He huffed at the sound of your voice, it was angelic. "Ja? what if.. what if we.. go out?"

You gnawed at your lower lip, "I'd like that.. Where would we go?"

"You could.. You could come on base? I'll show you around Liebe.."

"Ok, when should I be there? Wait, what's the whole process of me coming onto base..?"

His chuckle rang out in your ears. He felt oddly confident with you, like there wasn't a worry in the world. He explained about the visitor passes and how this week was friends and family week so it should be very straight forward.

'Ok, I’ll be there at 8 am then? or wait.. 0800 hours? Did I say it right..?'

He chuckled again, "Ja Liebe.. Good job.. Get some rest,"

You told him goodnight and hung up the phone, squealing into your pillow. How could you sleep when you were going to see him?

The very next morning you woke up at around 5 am, you took extra time showering, making sure to use every single product you had, brushed your teeth 2 times, and washed your face 3 times before putting your hair in a hair curler and sitting to do your makeup.

Over an hour later of fucking up eyeliner, restarting twice and stabbing yourself in the eye with mascara, you finally pulled your hair from the curler, pulled on a frilly pink dress, and some chunky white heels with frilly white socks.

You also accessorized with little flowers wherever you could and headed out the door to Base, which was luckily a few minutes away.

Upon reaching the gate the guard eyed you up and down, "Who are you here for, pretty girl?"

"Um.. König?" His gaze made you uncomfortable as he barked out a laugh.

"What’s so funny, Private?"

His voice was obviously chilling but you couldn't help being excited to see him.

You hugged tight around his waist, your head resting just under his chest. He flushed, patting your head as he glared at the man in the booth, silently demanding all inclusive passes for everything.

"Liebe, come with me.. I have much to show you.."

He offered you his hand, bringing out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. You eagerly wrapped around his arm and nuzzled into his side, taking the flowers.

"Oh thank you König, they're beautiful..!"

"Anything for you Liebe.." You looked up to meet his intense gaze, blushing as you watched his eyes darken and soften. He was so freaking.. Ugh!

The very first thing he did was show off his quarters. His bed was massive of course, you assumed far larger than any other available bed. Squealing, you belly flopped onto the bed.

"Your bed is so big! and it smells just like you" You buried your face into the blankets, taking in every ounce of him as you could, until you felt weight on either side of your head.

"Ja? You like it?" You flipped onto your back to face him, quickly locking eyes with him. His gaze made you blush but you enjoyed his presence.

"Oh my god wait can you please do something for me? I know this is gonna sound weird.." You fiddled with the part of his mask that was draping over your chest, "Could you lay on top of me? just full on crush me,"

His expression immediately changed to bewilderment before chuckling, "I'll suffocate you Lamm (Lamb).. But alright.."

Konig eased down onto you, putting the full weight of his torso down on your small frame. You had bent and spread your knees so he would fit snugly on top of you and you let out weary breath,

"Oh my god this is perfect.. Just stay here for a sec.." Your breathing was labored and he could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

"You sure Liebe? You sound like you cant breath,"

"No no, I'm good...this feels amazing.." The weight literally made you decompress as you settled into the bed, gently scratching his back with your newly manicured nails. He groaned softly into your chest, resting his face between them. You both laid there for what seemed like forever but was actually 15 minutes before he raised himself on his elbows.

"We should go now Lamm, there are many things to do today," You nodded, dazed, breathless, and completely flushed. The sight nearly made him pass out as you panted below him. He raised you to your feet and walked you down to the Cantina where you both got breakfast and he led you to the table with TF141 You were directly behind König as he approached the table. Soap greeted him first,

"Oi Lad! Did you end up callin’ the lass last night?"

"Ja, She's here today."

Gaz whistled, "Well where is she? don't tell me ya scared her off already."

König looked to his left and right frantically before you spoke up meekly, "Here.." You stepped out from behind König, his hulking figure incomprehensible to yours. You shifted uncomfortable under the gobsmacked gaze of TF141 before König helped you into your seat and sat beside you.

"Lad, you're gonna split 'er in half- Oi!" Ghost elbowed Soap, sharply glaring at him. "ahem.. I meant, what's yer name Lass?"

You told them, completely anxious. They were all so intimidating, and not the same way König was. König was hot and intimidating, these men were straight up scary.

"Don't be shy little lady! We ain't gonna bite! Well I mean the mountain here might but still!" Gaz's words brought little comfort but the idea of König biting you was a nice distraction.

"Lass sie in Ruhe! (Leave her alone) Christ you lot are making her anxious! Bastarde..." Konig placed a comforting hand on your thigh and you scooted closer to him to whisper in his ear, which he had to lean down for you to do.

He flushed and sat straight up, shoving food under his mask and choking on it slightly.

'I wouldn't mind if you bite..'

The boys all cackled, completely unaware of what you had said. The breakfast went well, but you eventually broke away from the group to spend the day with Konig. He pampered you endlessly, buying you anything you touched, doing everything you wanted to do just as excited as you were about it, but only because he was doing it with you.

While mini golfing, because why not, he stepped away to use the bathroom. You did a couple of practice shots while waiting for him until you felt a presence behind you.

"Hey pretty girl, who are you here for?"

"He's in the bathroom." You didn't even meet his gaze. It didn't matter, König was gonna be there any second anyway.

"Hey.. Look at me when I'm talking to you," He grabbed your shoulder, digging his fingers into the skin. It hurt. The atmosphere changed suddenly, a threatening aura quickly approaching. But it didn't matter.

Because you swiftly turned to face the man grabbing you and crunched the chunky heel of your shoe into his crotch. There was a sickening crutch, a pathetic squeal and the area went quiet with the collective wince of any man in the immediate area.

"Don't touch me," You nonchalantly returned to practicing your putt as Konig warily approached.

"Gott lamm.. he's never having kids.." You looked up at him for a second.

"I told him I was here with someone else and he grabbed me. Not my fault."

He chortled and patted your hair. You whined that he was gonna mess it up but you could see the smirk in his eyes.

"I'd rather ruin it another way.."

You challenged him, "I'd rather you ruin my makeup, but I suppose that could work too,"

He faltered, Clearly a bright red under the mask before he gently grabbed your hand. You met his gaze again and smiled softly, nodding before he dragged you away from the game,

"König-! I can't keep up-! Eek!" He stopped before throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, holding down your skirt as he sprinted to his room.

König slammed the door behind the two of you and threw you onto the bed. You squealed with laughter as you bounced, nervously sucking in a breath as he started gently taking off your socks and shoes, placing a kiss on the top of your foot and along your shin until he reached the skirt of your dress.

"Mein Gott... I want to worship every inch of you Mein Liebe.. You're so perfect.."

You stood and turned around so he could unzip your dress, a pure white lacy bra and thong with little pink bows underneath. He groaned under his breath before reaching for his mask. He hesitated for a second before ripping off the mask. His hair was thick but short, a very shiny black. a scar made its way from his chin across his lips and to the opposite side of his nose.

He was so fucking hot.

And he was also beet red, waiting for your reaction, but you just jumped, pressing a kiss to his lips and giggled. You cupped his face, eyes dizzy and lips upturned in a small smile

"You're so handsome, why hide it?" He groaned, sinking to your lips where he kissed you as deeply as he could.

"Mein Liebe.. Ich werde dich zu meiner Frau machen... (Im going to make you my wife..)"

You whined into his kiss, tugging at his shirt, "Off.. please.."

"Patience Lamm... let me pamper you.." He gingerly rubbed a finger against your sloppy folds and groaned "Scheiße.. You're so wet already.." You whined, tightly gripping his shoulders as you met his gaze.

He sunk a finger into you, watching intently as you threw your head back and moaned loudly. His finger was so big and so thick, it was almost as big as your two fingers alone; and then he added a second.

"Ah-! König.." you arched your back into him, feeling your gummy cunt squeeze around his fingers. He groaned into your neck.

"Das ist... Good Girl.. cum on my fingers mein Liebe..." He bit softly into your neck, causing you to seize up and cum on his fingers, squirting into his palm. You'd never been able to cum before but he had barely touched you and here you were, shaking under him with your slick pooling on his blankets.

"König.." you whimpered, watching his gaze darken as he lapped his fingers clean of your mess before he shifted onto the floor, slinging your legs over his shoulders, pushing your underwear to the side and lapping at you like a starved man.

It had all happened so fast and so slow at the same time that you didn't have time to protest or react. But god did it feel good..

He groaned against your clit as you gripped his hair and squeezed his head tightly with your thighs. they were so thick and soft, he had gotten so used to firmness muscles and callous skin. It was incredible.

All you could do was arch into him, on the verge of another orgasm so quickly until he pulled away. You wanted to protest but watched as he stripped off his shirt, moaning at the sight of his broad chest, thick shoulders, and soft abs.

König hurriedly unbuckled his pants, the sound of it alone causing your heart to pound faster, then watched as his dick sprang from the confines of his pants, painfully hard. And scarily big.

"Oh my god.." It was almost a horrified whisper if you weren't so mesmerized by the sight of the throbbing vein along the base and the angry red of his tip.

You finally unclipped your bra and threw it to the side as he ripped off your underwear, angry red lines marking your skin. He trailed kisses up your soft, fatty stomach. He loved it so much, how soft and doughy you were underneath him, sucking every inch of skin he could into his mouth as you moaned and writhed underneath him

"Pleasee.. No more teasing..."

"Mein Liebe.. I must mark every inch of your skin.. how else will others know who you belong too?"

You hid your face with your arm in embarrassment and whined as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, pinching the other one,

"Don't say it like that.."

He groaned as he rubbed the head of his cock along her wet slit, sinking in the head and moaning.

"Scheiße.. You're so hot Lamm... and so wet..Scheiße"

"K-König-! It's..too big-!" You whined, clawing at his back as he slowly sunk into you, each delicious inch stretching you impossibly wide.

König moaned as he sunk to the hilt, reveling in your tight, gummy cunt before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in.

"Mein Gott Lamm.. So fucking tight...Scheiße!"

You moaned as he repeatedly sunk into you, picking up the pace until he groaned loudly, roughly grabbed your thigh and slung it over his shoulder, pounding at your hole at a brutal pace, likely bruising your cervix.

It felt so good and so overwhelming as a white heat bubbled in your core at each pass he made against your sensitive walls. He growled, biting into your neck and shoulder, lathering the harsh marks with his tongue as you took his cock so greedily.

"Das a good girl.. Look at you, you keep sucking me back in.. Gott.. Cum for me Lamm.."

She whimpered, just on the precipice of the most intense orgasm of her life, clawing at his back for purchase, begging for relief.

Tears flooded from her eyes as they rolled into her head as she came on his cock, squeezing around him tightly and moaning his name loudly, "König-!"

her vision was flooded with white, her orgasm prolonged as he continued to pound into her until he spilled his seed deep into her cunt. He groaned softly as he pulled out, listening to the hurried footsteps just outside the door. Whoever was listening, definitely wasn't anymore.

König chuckled against your cheek, "They heard you mein Liebe.. heard you taking my cock and my seed like such a Braves Mädchen..(Good girl)"

You flushed a bright red and buried your face into his shoulder, legs trembling around him, "König..! that's so embarrassing.."

"What my little Lamm? Want to be quiet as I fuck you? Why don't you bury your face in the pillows then hmm?"

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling you to your knees as he tutted at you,

"Look at this waste..." He swiped the oozing cream pie up with his fingers and stuffed it back in. You whimpered as his calloused fingers rubbed your sensitive folds as he fingered his cum back into you.

"Das a good little slag.. taking my cum.." He grinned down at you as he slapped his cock on your clit, relishing in the yelps and whimpers you tried to hide.

"Beg for it Mein Liebe.. Beg for my cock.." He pressed soft kisses into your shoulder then bit your ear.

You muffled an embarrassed please into the pillow until he pulled you up by your hair, eliciting an insanely erotic moan as he tugged at your sensitive scalp, "Please-! Please König.. I need it-!"

"Braves Mädchen..." He stuffed his cock back into your gummy cunt, groaning as he raised up on his haunches. He pulled out until just his head was left, then he thrusted in as he pulled your hips to meet his.

He hit impossibly deep and impossible hard against your cervix. It would have hurt had the pressure not been so good. You moaned into the pillow, drool soaked into the fabric, and tears ran down your cheeks. Your makeup and hair was thoroughly ruined, but you didn't care; It was being ruined in the best way imaginable.

You came on his cock again, squirting onto his slick skin, dripping down onto the covers. He groaned at the sight.

"Look at you.. you're such a mess for me.. So slick and tight.. So perfect.. Mein Braves Mädchen... Scheiße.. I'm gonna cum.. Take it.."

You moaned loudly into the pillow, relishing in the feeling of his seed pooling into your ruined pussy, completely drunk on his cock. Eventually, all of the sensations were too much and you passed out.

König chuckled as he slipped from you, "Mein goodness Lamm.. You've made quite the mess... Lamm? Mein Liebe? uh oh,"

He turned you on your back and pressed his ear to your chest listening to your relaxing heartbeat and shallow breaths. He noted the small smile on your face as you slept peacefully before pulling you into his arms and grabbing a different blanket to sleep in.

It had just hit dusk when he heard a knock at his door. König stood, fitting his dick back into his pants and pulling on his mask before covering you with the blanket, kissing your head and opening the door.

"What?" He was obviously irritated, but it simmered when he realized it was Soap.

Soap glanced past König and smirked, "Good god is she dead?"

König rolled his eyes and blushed, "No, just passed out, What do you want Soap?"

"LT has a mission for us. We're gonna be deployed next week, I figured you'd want to tell your lass before then."

König's eyes saddened as he looked back. He had only gotten to spend a day with you and he literally didn't want to spend a second away from you. Now he had to leave?

He offered Soap a curt nod before slamming the door in his face and striding back over to you. you had turned to face the door, eyes slightly open and a tired frown on your face.

"You're being deployed?"

"Ja.. I'm so sorry Mein Liebe.. " he brushed the hair from your face and kissed away the tears of streaky mascara.

"I promise I'll come back safe.. Keine Sorge (Do not worry)"

As you moved to sit up you winced at the ache in your legs and arms. He scooped you into his arms as you wrapped around him like a koala.

"Please tell me you're not leaving to get away from me.." The worried cries that escaped your anxious mind stabbed him in the heart. It hurt so much.

"Oh Mein Liebe.. I would never.. This is killing me.. Nein.. Id never.."

You pulled away, peeling up the mask over his nose and kissed him,

"I'll write to you every day you're gone.."

"I will read them every day.. And any day I cannot write.. I will write two the next day.. So on and so forth.."

You whimpered in his arms. You weren't sure why it hurt so much, maybe he was your soulmate, because that burning pain in your heart was mirrored in his and it fucking sucked.

The few days leading up to the deployment he spent every available second talking to or pampering you. It could be gifts of food, flowers, or stuffed animals. But it was often multiple orgasms, shaky legs, and painful looking hickeys littered across your neck, shoulders, breasts, thighs and ass.

He bit into your shoulder, teeth marks angry and red. You whined as he licked away the stinging pain as he thrusted into you again and again.

"At this rate.. Mnn.. These wont fa-Aye-!de... until you're backk-!"

"That's the point mein Liebe... Scheiße.. You're so tight.."

You watched in the bathroom mirror as he tightly held your hips to his as he pounded against you brutally trying to shape you so you never forget the feeling of his cock.

The week went so fast yet so slow all at the same time. When you parted one last time you cried into his arms. You didn't want him to go, not when you were falling in love with him.

Every day seemed bleak. You wrote to him every day about all the thoughts that had crossed your mind. You had sent him various and frequent care packages. It was almost scary how you knew exactly what he needed.

He had a hard time falling asleep? You sent him a weighted dinosaur covered in your perfume and a bottle of the same kind in case the smell faded. You also sent him drowsy tea and so many baked treats.

His feet and knees were killing him? you sent him memory foam gel inserts, somehow in his exact size and Icy Hot to help with the pain- and of course more treats.

You baked so much in your spare time because of how lonely you were. It hurt to be without him, and you feared every day that he was hurt or dead.

Months of letters back and forth. Your friends kept urging you to just sleep with someone, so you cut them off to find better friends. They didn't know him, they didn't get to call him a weirdo.

Oftentimes at work you would get berated, and since you were more stressed out, you often snapped back. This sometimes worked better than that good old fashioned customer service attitude.

"You don't get to yell at me because you forgot to order a shake. I put your food on the warmer so it won't get cold, it'll be ready in a minute and a half. Have some patience."

Your face was stern but not mean. This often got you more tips. And phone numbers?

Why the hell did creepy old men think it was ok to hit on a girl half their age? And why did they find you yelling at them arousing?!

Every day at work got harder until finally, FINALLY, you were accepted into a paid internship through your university and you made far more in a field you were studying to be in. It was honestly your dream job but there was one big problem.

Joshua.

He was a good worker, always got work in on time, but oh my god was he a pervert. He had already slept with half the women in the office, but for some reason he really wanted to get with you. And the worst part was he was your boss.

"I'm not interested sir, please keep this professional."

"Oh come on sweetheart, what's wrong with a little messing around?"

"Well for one-" He always interrupted you, it really pissed you off.

"I'll give you a 50% raise if you sleep with me,"

"You literally can't, and-"

"I'll work my magic sweetheart!"

"Stop Calling me that! I am not sleeping with you Josh! Fuck Off!"

You had stormed back to your cubicle and not much later had gotten an email from HR about disorderly conduct. and who sent in the complaint?

It wasn't Josh, It was fucking Debbie.

She may have been worse than Josh, because she slept her way up the ranks and was his current play toy. The reason she complained?

Fraternizing.

What. The. Fuck.

You had been there for Six months and never once spoke out against anyone, and the one time you did because you were still being sexually harassed, someone tattles on you for yelling? Hell No.

That day when you got home, you cried. And you cried hard. You loved your job so much, but the work environment was so toxic, you didn't know what to do and you missed König so much it hurt and-

Your phone started ringing. König was calling.

"H-Hello?" You sniffed, raising the alarms.

"Mein Liebe? What is wrong my sweet? Who made you cry?"

"I-It's nothing I'll tell you later, please, just tell me you're coming home soon.. I miss you so much.."

He huffed, "Soon my love. The mission was successful. That human trafficking ring was completely demolished. I'll be home in a month."

"Oh my gosh-! a month?! That's so soon! What date exactly, I'm writing it down on my calendar."

König chuckled as he heard your feet run across the house. He told you the date and excitedly wrote it down.

"Now Mein Liebe, tell me. Who. Made. You. Cry? "

The crushing weight of anxiety and stress pressed down so hard you just sobbed and sobbed. You told him about the harassment, how you loved your job but wanted to leave because of some jerk, how everyone was great except for like two people and then you told him who it was.

"And if Josh could just fucking leave me alone I wouldn't have a meeting with HR because Debbie doesn't like the idea of her douche bag getting with someone else!"

"What did you say his last name was again?"

"uh Davidson.. why?"

He chuckled again, "No reason my love.. I'm running out of time on this call, Ich Liebe dich."

"I love you too König, I’ll write to you tomorrow ok?"

"Do not fret Liebling, It will all be taken care of."

You had no idea what he meant, but you smiled and hung up the phone. You had always felt so much better after talking to him or reading his letters.

Which is why you wanted to do something extra special for him, especially since you had been dating for nearly two years at this point.

So that weekend you scheduled with a photographer friend of yours a sexy photo shoot where you posed in all different kinds of underwear and suggestive poses. You both giggled as you wrapped up the pictures in a little scrap book and added it into his next care package, with a little note to open it when he was alone.

Apparently, the note had slipped from its place on the cover and when he opened the box, normally to share the snacks you send with TF141, he opened the book with a crowd gathered over his shoulder before quickly slamming it shut.

He stammered, he couldn't even get a word out as even Ghost patted him on the shoulder, hooting and hollering with laughter at his embarrassment.

"Good on ya Lad! That Lass really loves ya!" Soap patted him on the back extra hard, causing the book to fall from his hands and flip to a random page where you were clearly seen clad in black lacy lingerie and one of his spare masks on.

He scrambled to pick it up ready to explode as the laughter got even louder, the group hunched over, relishing in his misery. In his heart he knew it was all good fun and he'd be able to laugh about it later but right now he wanted to melt into a puddle and die.

When he was alone, he made good use of the pictures, fisting his cock as if it were your tight pussy wrapped around him. There were a plethora of pictures to choose from, but you with his mask on just did it for him; especially with that look in your eye, like you were ready to be bred.

He came in his palm, quick to wipe it away with a tissue as he continued to admire your shy yet confident face, pupils blown wide, cheeks a healthy glowing red and your skin flushed pink. He noticed that your skin was healed from his marks, which he would have to change as soon as he got home tomorrow.

Konig was coming home early with a surprise- and to handle your problem.

The next day had definitely started hellish. You spilled your coffee on your blouse so you had to go into work with just the tank top and suit jacket, which of course was perfect for prying eyes, no matter how hard you hid your cleavage.

The meeting with HR went ok, especially since you brought up the sexual harassment, which led to an investigation on Josh, but you were sure it was going to lead no where (as usual).

And then you went to lunch. Which for some reason, Josh saw as an invitation to sit down with you. He had talked so much that you had drowned out everything, completely unaware of your surroundings. Except for when he grabbed your hand. You yanked it away, ready to yell at him but he stopped everything.

He wasn't even looking at you. He was looking behind you, completely terrified. And then you felt that familiar hand on your shoulder.

"Is this the guy you told me about Mein Liebe?"

You whipped around and stood to hug him, crying happy tears, even as his tactical vest dug uncomfortably in your skin.

He hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he glared down at the small man. He chuckled, shifting to a lighter tone.

"I've missed you too, Liebling. Give me one second.."

He stood up fully, turning his attention to Josh. He grit his teeth.

"Ah, you must be the man Mein Liebe was talking about, haha! Boy did she talk about you. Ahh.. Yeah if you ever make a comment about my wife or to my wife again, I will kill you." Josh chuckled nervously and König cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, that sounded like a joke, I will actually, Fucking Kill you."

The cafeteria was silent and you smirked at Josh pissing his pants.

"Now, my Liebe, where were we? Ah yes."

You watched, tears welling in your eyes as he knelt before you and pulled a small box from his pocket. You laughed and cried and covered your mouth and cried, nodding your head.

"I haven't even asked yet Liebling.. ahem.." his gaze flicked around the room at the cameras but he ignored them, right now he needed to be with you.

"Mein Liebe.. being away from you.. for.. so fucking long.. has been insufferable... Ich liebe dich so much.. I need you to be my wife.. so badly.. so desperately.. I need your comfort, and your touch and your love more than I need oxygen. Please, marry me?"

You jumped and wrapped around him so tightly, crying and nodding yes. It would have been pathetic if it wasn't so sweet.

"There is not a doubt in my mind that I want to be married to you."

He gently took your hand, slipping the ring on your finger and kissed your hand. Afterwards he bought you flowers, your favorite of course, and took you to lunch for the remainder of your break, and then he remained guarding your cubicle. Which was good as Josh approached several times but turned away the second König gave him a glare.

This repeated for the remainder of your work day until he drove you home where he continued to service you, right on the wall by the front door.

Your skirt was bunched up around your hips, sitting on his shoulders as he lapped at your clit like a starved man, not even bothering to take off the mask all the way, but pushing it above his nose.

His fingers pumped into you as you gripped at the top of his head, head thrown back as you rutted against his face, desperate for a release.

You quickly squirted in his mouth, but he kept going until you were sobbing that it was too much, which was only after another two orgasms.

"I can't help it mein Liebe.. You look so fucking Wunderschön with my ring.. Gott I'm lucky.."

He threw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour and brought you to the bedroom. His cock was painfully hard, but he didn't care. He needed to replace all of the healed marks on your skin.

König ripped off your tank top and bra, quickly discarding the mask entirely as he bit into your shoulder, making his way up your neck with rough sucks and even rougher bites until he had made his way across your collarbone.

All you could do was moan at the pain of his teeth and the pleasure of his tongue as he moved his attention to your breasts, trailing his treatment back in between your legs where he ripped off the remainder of your clothes.

He lapped up your arousal once before making his way over you and pulling his cock out of his pants. The head was drooling with cum as he continued to kiss your body, worshiping every freckle, mole, and stretch mark until he met your lips and sunk all the way to the hilt.

He groaned at the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing him tightly.

"This is so much better than my hand Liebling... Scheiße.... So beautiful wrapped around me like this.. Gott.."

"Königg.. That's embarrassing..." you whined as he pulled out and sunk back in, head thrown back as tears flooded from your eyes.

His pace was ruthless as he rutted into you desperately, fucking his cum into you every time he finished. He refused to let up, his pent up arousal was too much, even as he had you on your side, leg thrown over his shoulder, squeezing your ass and tracing the bulge in your stomach every time he filled you with his meaty cock.

Fat tears kept rolling down your cheeks as you felt that impossibly good pressure on your cervix each time he kissed it with the head of his dick, knowing it would be bruised for at least two weeks.

Your lips parted in a silent scream, drool slipping onto the pillow as you came on his cock again, the bed sheets long since ruined. He groaned as he spurted thick ropes of hot cum into you again, pressed as deep into you as he could before collapsing into your chest, kissing the valley between them sweetly.

"You're going to be so Wunderschön pregnant with my babe mein liebe.. Gott.. So Wunderschön.."

"I love you König.." you weaved your fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he sighed contently, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Ich Liebe Dich, mein Lamm.."

Two weeks later, while he was at work you had taken a pregnancy test. Pregnant.

No one was shocked, to be honest. But everyone was definitely happy.

#cod konig #smut #konig x reader #konig smut #bde #big tiddy committee #strangers to lovers

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getosfavoritewife · 6 months

Text

The Sun Always Rises

✮⋆˙ General Jing Yuan has a way of bringing sunlight to you, regardless of how much you avoid the warm rays. (1.5k words)

✮⋆˙ A/N: first post!! jing yuan has such a lazy/cozy feel and I'm still trying to gauge his personality so sorry if it's a bit ooc!!

✮⋆˙ Warning(s)/Content: forgemaster!reader; implications of mental health concerns (nothing heavy); can be read as platonic or romantic; fluffy fluff, teasing

✮⋆˙ jing yuan x gn!reader

Hearing three knocks against your door on a sunny winter evening could only signify one thing.

Not even trying to conceal the lack of surprise on your face, you open the door for your expected visitor; as usual, Jing Yuan greets you with a pleasant smile, hands comfortably clasped behind his back as he strides in like he owns the place, opens the curtains, and makes himself at home.

“Arbiter General,” you murmur, almost as if scripted.

“Forgemaster,” he replies in turn with a twinkle in his eyes, also as expected.

You don’t ask if he wants tea, opting to pour two cups and place them on the table as you both sit down. Forgemaster Yingxing had always taught you to be polite to guests, but that was a very long time ago, and Jing Yuan wasn’t just any guest.

“There’s a festival in Aurum Alley this evening,” Jing Yuan muses as he eyes the tea with interest, picking the small cup up as he gives the hot liquid a gentle blow and careful sip.

You know where he’s going with this, so at this point, the best course of action is feigned indifference and avoidance. “And you came all the way over here to let me know? Especially during such a busy day at The Seat of Divine Foresight?”

You take a ginger sip of the tea, grimacing as it burns the tip of your tongue, before placing it back down on the table. Master Yingxing’s tea was far superior to yours anyway—if he could see the hot garbage you’d brewed, he would have scolded your skills all afternoon.

Jing Yuan’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Astute as always. You should get out of the house more.”

“I leave the house,” you try not to sound defensive, squinting at the man sitting across from you. “I go to the forge every day.”

“Other than there?”

“And… I went to the market last week,” you grumble, rooting around in your brain for excuses. Lamely, all you come up with is a throwaway line about being too busy that you know Jing Yuan won’t buy. Anyone else would accept the lies that rolled off your tongue like second nature, but not Jing Yuan. He knew you and your habits all too well.

He stands up, dusting his pants off with a lazy smile. “Wonderful, grab your coat.”

“No, Jing Yuan. No.” You respond too quickly, shooting up as you wrack your brain for an excuse.

The softness with which he calls your name is lost to the roaring silence of the room and you know what face he’s making without even looking.

That corner above the cupboard really needs dusting. Master Yingxing would sneeze because of the dust, and he’d blame allergy season. Maybe tonight—

“Only for a little while,” he coaxes, as he swipes a strand of hair from obscuring your eyes. Maybe that’s what makes you meet his eyes: golden and full of life as usual, albeit with his dark circles that seemed worse than before.

“I’ll think about it,” you sigh tiredly, reaching up to run your fingers under his eyes. “You should sleep more, Jing Yuan. You look tired.”

A laugh rumbles out of him at that as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You can’t help but let the corners of your mouth quirk up in response. “Don’t let the others at The Seat of Divine Foresight hear you say that.”

“If only you would stop sneaking away at the sight of paperwork, maybe they wouldn’t be so wary of your work ethic,” you scold halfheartedly.

Jing Yuan simply watches you, an adoring smile peeking out that makes you want to push him away from you, embarrassed. Instead, you card your fingers through his hair, murmuring how his ribbon is coming loose as you free it from his snowy locks.

He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as you tug through his fluffy hair, replicating his usual hairstyle with practiced ease. You let your thoughts wander to when you used to re-tie his hair every day after it came loose during sparring while Master Yingxing went to go meet with sword master Jingliu and the others.

“How’s Yanqing’s training coming along?” Breaking the delicate silence, your voice always sounds unfamiliar these days; the results of less use, you suppose.

A golden eye cracks open to peer at you, and Jing Yuan lets out another sigh, this time more rueful. “You know how he tends to be. It still surprises me the speed with which he is able to pick up on new techniques and skills, but that obsession with winning and losing…” Jing Yuan trails off. “It’s like I say, if you treat him as a child, he'll put on the airs of an adult. If you treat him as an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child.”

“It’s a difficult age. Remember how you used to be?”

You bite back a snicker at the mock-offended look Jing Yuan shoots you.

“I don’t quite remember it like that,” he says. “I believe I was a joy to be around at every age.”

“I’m sure you remember it like that.”

“How else could you remember it?”

You take a break from playing with his hair to flick him on the forehead, at which he lets out a soft hiss, rubbing the small red mark and catching your hand before you can give him another one. “So mean.”

With a scoff, you make no move to remove your hand from his grip, letting yourself relax in his grasp. “You were nothing short of a terror. Anytime I tried to hang out with you it was always ‘Let’s spar here!’ or ‘Extra training is basically hanging out!’. I got so sick of you that I told Master Yingxing to stop meeting Master Jingliu when I was around.”

“Was I… really like that?” You can’t help but laugh at Jing Yuan’s face, ignoring the smile creeping onto his face at the sight of your laughter.

“All I’m saying is that he’ll grow out of it, just like you did. Kids are desperate to prove themselves at that age. You ought to praise him a little more,” you advise him softly.

“I give praise where it is deserved,” Jing Yuan places your clasped hands on his chest with fake affrontedness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he huffs in amusement.

“Yet I am expected to praise you even when you are undeserving?”

“I hadn’t realized there were times where I was ever undeserving of praise?” You can’t help to smack him with the hand that was resting on his chest as he pretends to ponder.

“Speaking of Yanqing though—” you start before Jing Yuan interrupts.

“I thought we were speaking about me?”

The roll of your eyes seemed to simply be an intrinsic reaction to Jing Yuan’s teases after all these years of dealing with his painfully fatherly sense of humor.

“General.”

The pleased smile on his face only curled higher. “I’m listening.”

“As I was saying, Yanqing’s birthday is approaching this month. Maybe it’s time he finally receives a sword from the Forgemaster on his birthday this year?”

“I can already imagine his tears of joy. He still asks when he can meet you sometimes. I admit I have yet to give him an answer in fear that he will spend every moment not used for training to instead bother you incessantly at your forge.”

“Like father, like son, I suppose. Send him around—it’s truly no bother. It would also help me figure out a suitable blade for him.”

You pretend to not see the way Jing Yuan’s brows knit together at your teasing jab.

“Come watch us train sometime soon. To help you gauge his fighting style, of course,” Jing Yuan remarks lightly.

“Of course,” you echo. Giving him a look before sighing, you grab your coat off the hook, opening the door for him as you slip it on. “Only for a little while at the festival, please. And no buying or winning me anything while we’re there.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t even try to hide the smile unfurling on his face and you know the next words that come out of his mouth are bound to be an easy lie. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Forgemaster.”

From spending every free minute together as kids to only seeing him when he came knocking on your door every single day. No matter what happened, the sun always rose the next day. And no matter what happened, your Jing Yuan was always there.

thanks for reading!! ✮⋆˙

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saigethearies · 8 months

Text

saige’s terrortober presents…

guardian

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

contents/warnings: non consensual groping (not from gumi), megumi and reader are in their early 20s, non-sorcerer!reader, violence, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise, sir kink, protective!megumi, a little hint of feral!megumi

wc: 2.1k

18+ MINORS DNI

“come on, gumi, the next walk-through starts in five minutes!”

your boyfriend sighed as he let you pull him along towards the “haunted house” you had wanted to go to for the past three weeks. he didn’t really see the fun behind seeing a bunch of people pretend to be ghosts and demons when he fought (real) ones for a living, but he digressed. you didn’t share the same extraordinary profession that he did, so these types of attractions were still a spectacle of scary excitement and adrenaline for you. megumi couldn’t deprive you of the festive halloween experiences you sought out, nor would he ever pass up a chance to spend time with you.

thus, that is how he found himself being ushered into a hallway filled with plastic cobwebs, fake blood, and red lights everywhere.

your shoulders were tense, preparing for the inevitable jumpscare of an actor dressed to resemble a ghoul, zombie, or some other sort of terror. intertwining your fingers with the ravenette at your side, the two of you continued down the path.

he knew that the whole purpose of coming here was for you to get a little scare, but megumi still couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze your hand and keep you close. this was all make-believe, he knows better than anyone, but the nerves he could sense radiating off of you were still very much real.

you yelped when an actor jumped out at you from around the corner, special effects makeup covering his face that made it look as if he was covered in gnashes. jolting back, you felt megumi’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you from taking a tumble towards the floor. the actor receded back into the darkness he had been hiding in, leaving you to try and calm your racing heart. megumi remained as blank faced as ever, not even phased in the slightest.

“oh my goodness,” you breathed, regaining your balance.

after a few more frights, the rest of the haunted house became easier to navigate because you knew what to expect. the jumpscares weren’t as alarming anymore, and you even found yourself starting to nervously laugh out of anticipation when you knew one was coming up. your giggles even had a smile coming onto your boyfriend’s face, his chest feeling warm at the sight of you having a good time.

running out of crimson colored hallways to walk down, the two of you were finally nearing the exit of the attraction. the double doors leading outside were left open, and you could see signage pointing towards a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. you gasped in delight.

“look, gumi, we can go pick our pumpkins out!”

you took off, dashing towards the exit in excitement. megumi sighed, figuring he’d catch up to you once the two of you were out of the haunted house.

unbeknownst to you both, there was one more actor hiding in the dark, a final fright for those who bravely made it to the end.

and unfortunately for you, this guy wasn’t only a creep because of his costume.

his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, the actor smirked when he saw you trotting towards his hiding spot. megumi wasn’t in his line of sight yet, so he had no idea he was trailing behind.

‘a pretty little thing all alone in this place?’ the sleaze thought to himself. ‘must be my lucky day.’

you shrieked when the man jumped out at you, mentally cursing yourself for not staying on your guard until the very end. oh well, at least it's all just pretend-

you felt your body freeze when a pair of gloved hands attached themselves to your chest.

“damn, aren’t you fine,” disgustingly warm breath fanned against your ear, and you felt a true scream start to tear its way up your throat only to die on your tongue when the body pressed against your back was ripped away from you.

you watched in shock as megumi shoved your assailant up against the wall, sending his fist into his face once, then twice, then three times. he kept going.

“gumi!” you yelled, trying to pull your boyfriend out of his rage-filled trance. the guy had his hands up in surrender, pleads coming from behind his mask. the shikigami summoner, however, wasn’t letting up.

you finally ran up to him, grabbing onto his elbow before he can deliver another punch. “MEGUMI! i think he got the lesson.”

dark blue eyes blinked before turning to look down at you, a frown on your face. he took note of the tremors in your grip on his arm. megumi mentally kicked himself for not checking on you first. he always sought to improve his character, but whenever he saw your safety threatened he found himself reverting back to the violence that plagued his younger years.

“love,” he began slowly, concern etched into every corner of his face.

you sniffled. “can we just get out of here?”

the sorcerer let the creep fall to the ground, crumbling up like the trash he was. placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, your boyfriend led you away from the haunted house and towards the car.

he thought about telling the site’s management, but you were clearly still shaken, so he decided for your sake he’d get you into the comfort of his audi as soon as possible. he would still report the incident later, however. that man needed to face formal consequence. beating him wasn’t enough to satisfy megumi, who swore to himself every night you fell asleep in his arms and every morning you woke up still wrapped in them that he would keep you safe from anything.

he couldn’t help but feel like he failed at that tonight.

opening the passenger door for you, megumi helped you into your seat before closing you in and getting into the car himself. he immediately turned to you.

“are you alright?”

such a stupid question to ask. of course you weren’t, the misty hue of your eyes confirmed so. he couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, but when those always failed him, megumi resorted to the method he could always depend on to better express himself: actions.

those always spoke louder, anyways.

he reached a hand out, placing it on your thigh before giving a comforting squeeze. he knew there was a chance you may not want to be touched right now, but if you had a problem with his affections he knew you’d make it known.

a sense of accomplishment washed over him when you placed your hand on top of his. “thank you, gumi.”

“you don’t need to thank me. it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

he almost made a comment about how he should have done a better job, but he held his tongue. right now it was about you. throwing himself a pity party would do nothing to lift your spirits.

“well, i still want to say thank you,” you said, a small smile coming onto your face as you shifted towards him. “my knight in shining armor deserves some gratitude.”

megumi hummed in acceptance, the two of you sitting in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“i hope i broke his fucking nose.”

that earned a laugh from you, catching him by surprise. “all this time i thought gojo was making up all those stories about you in middle school, but i guess i was wrong.”

“whatever he told you, please forget.”

“you know, i dont think i want to,” you said with a smirk.

now that the distress of the situation had ebbed away some, your mind was able to ponder more on your boyfriend going full fight club on the guy. seeing him get aggressive like that was honestly…very sexy. you couldn’t really appreciate in the moment, but now reminiscing on the wild semblance in his eyes and the sheer force behind his hits had your thighs starting to press together.

megumi noticed the gesture when he felt his fingers become squished between your thighs. he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“do you want something from me?” he asked, the heat of your skin paired with the adrenaline from earlier sending his brain into overdrive.

you pouted your lip out at him. “want you to touch me, ‘gumi.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, sir. need you to make me feel better, please.”

the title made his cock twitch in his pants. the hand that had been resting on your thigh slowly began to glide up your skin, dipping under the hem of your skirt and gingerly tracing the edge of the lace covering your heat.

he saw you start to squirm in your seat, chest puffing out at the effect he had on your body. finally slipping a finger into your panties, his index drew slow circles around your clit.

your head tipped back against the seat, a breathy whine leaving you. the appendage doting on your bud then drifted down into your cunt, his middle finger joining as well. he pumped them at a steady fast, beginning to pick up speed once they started to reach deeper.

“fuck, that feels so good, sir!”

“yeah? ‘m glad, love.”

he could feel your pussy start to soak his fingers, the mess between your legs growing wetter by the second. it would probably get on the seat, but he could worry about that later. right now his sweet girl needed him.

you felt the coil in your gut begin to tighten, megumi’s fingers continuing to fuck you open. he knew how to use them so well, years of summoning his shikigami paying off with the most dexterous fingers you’ve ever had the pleasure of welcoming into your cunt.

thus, imagine your disappointment when you felt his hand detach from your heat.

before you could protest, you felt his arousal-coated fingers prod at your lower lip.

“clean them,” he gently commanded.

you did as you were told, taking the appendages into your mouth as your tongue swept up your own glaze. you released them with a pop.

“such a good girl.”

you let out a small squeak of surprise as you felt megumi easily lift you from your seat and bring you into his lap, chests pressed together.

“good girls deserve to cum on a cock, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, excitement rattling you at the thought of getting filled up.

megumi slid his pants down below his hips, freeing his aching dick from his boxers before pushing your thong to the side.

“sit on it, love.”

lowering yourself onto his cock, you moaned as you felt the familiar stretch. he always stuffed you so perfectly, the heat in your stomach already starting to pool at the sensation.

moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck, megumi placed both of his hands on your hips. he began to move you up and down on his lap as if you were weightless, jackhammering up into your pussy whenever he brought you back down. you practically screamed when you felt how deep he was going.

your boyfriend was panting. god, you always felt so perfect around him. he was never sure what he thought about the idea of fate or soulmates, but everytime you welcomed him into your cunt, he could have sworn you were made for each other.

his lovesick thoughts led his thrusts to become harder, megumi’s sole focus being to ensure you could feel how much you meant to him through every grip of his fingers, every breath from his lips, every plunge of your pelvises.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear, eyes practically blown feral. “damn, i love you so much. forever and always. gonna keep you safe, gonna keep you happy- fuck.”

you mewled at all the pussydrunk confessions tumbling out of him. “love you, too, gumi! love you, love you- ah!”

his tip hitting that golden spot now, your legs starting to shake around his.

“if i ever see someone touch you again, i’m putting them six feet fucking under.”

“nng, sir!”

“you’re mine.”

the dam finally broke, your cunt clamping down on his dick as your orgasm tore through you as if it were a monsoon. the sensation of you creaming around him sent your boyfriend over the edge next, megumi filling you up as you continued to be flooded with pleasure.

the two of you sat there in content quiet, megumi running his hand up your back to try and soothe you as you both recovered. you lifted your head up, gazing at him with droopy eyes.

“did you mean it?”

his brow furrowed. “mean what?”

“putting someone six feet under. would you actually do it?”

he wrapped you in an embrace, bringing your tired body to rest against his.

“without hesitation.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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totaly-obsessed · 8 months

Text

Baby Fever

Leah Williamson x reader

-> reader experiences Baby fever for the first time and does not know what to do with herself

-> Based on about a thousand pictures of Leah with Kids

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Tearing her ACL in April had been horrible – and Leah knew that. But she also knew that she was mentally prepared to deal with it – she was in a good place and would come out even stronger. That was the plan, and now in June, just two months in, she had her surgery done and started rehab.

The blonde found herself having a lot more time on her hands now and she loved spending it with you and her family. While most of the world saw her go out with her best friend Alex, she came home to you – her wife for over two years now. She would not change her busy schedule for the world, even though there was a World Cup that she could not attend.

The defender relished the time she had with her family.

Together with her cousin Jordan, she had been working on a book, her second one but the first fiction book for children. While the beginning was slow, Leah busy with Match after Match a mountain of training in between – the process sped up rapidly after her injury.

In June they announced the release date – the 31st of August. Which was just a little bit short of three months away, plenty of time to finish writing it.

You had a couple weeks off as well – it was the summer holidays and the schools were closed, and you were bored out of your mind. Leah could not take your whining anymore, so she dragged you to Jordan’s house to babysit. Her husband, Rob, had to work and their one-year-old son was just as bored as you were.

The beginning was hesitant. While Jordan was lovely, how much fun could a one-year-old be?

Turns out, a lot of it. It had been hours by this point, from when Leah and Jordan removed themselves from the living room and moved into her office. Leaving you with little Henry.

When the two blondes emerged from the office, two more chapters done it was dark outside already – the cousins having lost themselves between the pages. Where Jordan expected complete chaos, she found a clean home with you resting on the couch, her little boy asleep on your tummy.

Leah’s heart melted.

She loved kids, especially the ones in her family, and while she knew that you wanted them as well – this was new. Usually, it was her holding the kids with you watching her with wide eyes, eager to see her in such a maternal role.

But now it was her turn to stare – and she could not help herself but imagine having a child with you. The drive home was calm with Leah’s heavy hand resting on your thigh while she drove – both of you deep in thought.

While Leah had a busy week coming up, you had a lot of time and you found yourself watching a bunch of TikToks of adorable little babies. All of a sudden, your usual shopping trip took a different route when you stumbled upon the kid’s section. Looking at one fuzzy romper after the other – tears in your eyes as the pregnant women were met with jealous stares from you.

You were lying in bed when Leah returned home from a night out celebrating with Alex, who promised you that she would look after the blonde. “Baby? Why are you still awake?” To your surprise, the blonde was completely sober and changed into comfy clothes before joining you under a soft blanket.

“Look at them, Lee!” You excitedly showed her your phone, a video of a baby meeting a cute little kitten.

“Very cute baby. But that is what kept you up?” You hesitated for a second before showing her video after video of little kids and babies until you finally fell asleep, the blonde gently took the phone out of your hand.

While your wife had no clue what had gotten into you, she loved it.

Aston Villa had beaten Arsenal 2-0 in one of the last games of the season. And while it had broken Leah's heart she was still there, supporting her girls.

Once the match was over the two of you had joined the teams on the pitch when a little blonde girl caught your eye. She was heading straight to you, making grabby hands with her tiny fists at you – so without much thinking, you hoisted her up onto your hips. “Leah!”

“I’m not Leah baby. You wanna go see her?” Big blue eyes stared into your soul and with just a little imagination you could see a little Leah in her.

You did not have to look very far to find your wife as she limped her way over to you. “And who are you, little lady?” The toddler however did not care about formalities and went straight to business

“Faster tan you!” A fake gasp left Leah’s lips at the words.

“I don’t believe you! I think we will have to race!”

And with that, you were made the race official, moving back a good distance, as you clapped into your hands.

The tiny blonde started making her way to you, Leah following her on her as well as she could. You could see in your wife’s face that she was in pain, yet she tried to make this as fun as possible for the young girl who she just knew had taken over your heart.

To no one’s surprise, it was the toddler who ran into your arms – winning the race. “Good job girlie!” With the girl back on your hips, you made your way over to Leah, rewarding her valiant efforts with a kiss.

About a million pictures were being taken right now but neither of you minded.

“Kimie!” The toddler in your arms had found her aunt, so the two of you said ‘bye-bye’ to Leah.

Katie just had to tease her vice-captain “Careful Lee, your eyes will glue themselves to ya missus!” The nudge to the blonde's side nearly made her fall over after the exhausting sprint. “Shut up McCabe.”

“Aww – grouchy. You jealous that it's not yours?” Leah knew that her friend referred to the toddler who did not want to leave her wife's arms, but she could not face that right now. “At least I still have a wife.”

Ouch. That hurt.

Back at your joined home, you could not stop talking about Kim’s niece, showing her picture after picture you had taken with the little girl. “What’s gotten into you baby?”

You knew it was coming, but you still tried to play dumb. “What are you talking about?” Leah took hold of both of your wrists in one of her hands, keeping you sat on the couch, stopping you from fleeing. The other hand found its way to your hair, stroking it gently, hoping to calm you down.

“Don’t play dumb baby. I found tiny shoes in our closet this afternoon. Shoes that are much too small for either of us.”

Your eyes roamed the room, desperate for an explanation when you found the first copy of ‘The Wonder Team’. “They’re for Jordan!”

But the blonde did not even have to say anything, already seeing your eyes tearing up. She pulled you on her lap, as you sobbed into her shoulder. “I- I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I jus couldn’t help myself.”

You were slurring your words together, making it hard to understand. Your wife however pulled out her phone and opened the period tracker she had for you. “Baby, you are close to ovulation. Your body is ready for a baby.”

But your crying did not stop, it just got worse.

“Yeah, b- but I don’t usually get like this.” Leah did not know how or what to answer, the last week had been exhausting on your mind so she just leaned back, positioning you in a way that you could hear her calming heartbeat as your swollen eyes started to droop.

“I jus wan a baby with you.” The footballer could not help herself but coo at your sleepy confession as she rubbed your back.

“I know baby – me too.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #engwnt x reader #woso imagines #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #lionesses x reader

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 1 year

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he’s the adult supervision, he’s the voice of reason, he’s a cringefail king, it’s Captain Haddock! Quite a few people asked for a timeline post for Haddock after I posted one of Tintin.

I found the whole idea of the Haddock family curse to be very interesting, and the implications behind it to be pretty dark... cw for alcoholism and childhood abuse. Let me know if you need anything tagged.

To figure out the timeline the evidence for Haddock’s age I found was in an animated adaptation of Explorers on the Moon where Haddock mentions he has around forty years of sailing experience. I doubt he was running around on ships as a newborn so that places his age during the canon comics at around 60ish, give or take a few years, which in my timeline places his childhood during the late Victorian era!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - Archibald Haddock had a pretty rough childhood and family life. The legacy of the “Haddock family curse” weighs heavily on him, and so does the alcoholism that runs generationally. His father is often drunk, taking his anger and frustration out on Archibald. Fully believing the family curse, Archibald’s father drills the idea that he is destined for failure into his head.

Archibald’s only respite is his grandfather, who tells him stories of Sir Francis Haddock and other tall tales from the sea. His grandfather also would take him out on fishing trips, the lochs and the sea being his refuge.

Teenager - It’s the 1880s and Archibald is left aimless after his grandfather passes away, passing the time by hiding from his father and drinking during the day. He fully believes he has no real future and lets himself get swept up by whatever will come along next.

Young Adult - Archibald decides to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and becomes a sailor, feeling at home at sea. He cleans up somewhat after befriending George Chester as the two train on the same merchant vessel. Chester drags a reluctant Archibald along into all kinds of crazy antics, with Archibald wanting to stay on the straight and narrow.

Archibald is drafted during the First World War, serving in the Grand Fleet. He is stationed at the Orkney and Shetland Islands with Chester.

Canon - After the war Archibald relapses on his addiction again, but is able to hold onto work in the merchant fleet. He eventually becomes a captain of a merchant vessel where his mental health issues are taken advantage of in the Crab with the Golden Claws.

Seeing his crew mutiny, kidnap (and attempt to murder) a boy on his ship was a major wake up call - Haddock is now imbued with a sense of responsibility for Tintin (even if Tintin seems to handle things better than Haddock!). He doesn’t understand what Tintin sees in him but he’ll be damned if he proves him wrong. He’s not above calling him an idiot when the time is right though.

Post Canon - After Tintin loses his job Haddock does his best to support him. He uses his wealth to further causes he believes in, donating money to artist collectives and scientific research that was repressed by fascist governments. Before Belgium even joins the Second World War he and the Marlinspike team proactively go out and foil various Nazi plots. Marlinspike Hall is firebombed by the Nazis in retaliation, but after the war Haddock funds various housing cooperative projects. Coming from a working class background he hasn’t forgotten the hardships a lot of people face.

Elderly - At this point Haddock is secure in his found family. He’s been living with his partner Ramo Nash, and has taken up various arts and crafts as hobbies. Looking back, he never expected to be a father, but is incredibly proud of Tintin. He never officially adopts him as a part of him still fears the family curse (plus they both agree “Haddock” as a name definitely does not suit Tintin)!

#fanart #tintin #adventures of tintin #captain haddock #archibald haddock #photoset #headcanon #historical fashion #alcohol #alcohol tw #abuse mention #nazism cw #death mention

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goodfish-bowl · 3 months

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Check Your Sources

DP Side Hoes Week 2024 Master Post

Day 2: Jazz Fenton - university times

Summary: Jazz has a misunderstanding with a professor over her selected topic for her paper.

Word Count: 1271

AO3 Link

Jazz Fenton had remembered turning in her psychology paper on ecto-psychology, particularly the role of obsessions in the mental state of Ecto-entities, with utmost confidence. She had meant it as a draft for the final paper she intended to published after the completion of her degree. She had already sent in her paper on Ghost Envy for her application to the college, and it was currently in the process of being peer-reviewed, so she needed something new for her current psychology paper. She had compiled the information for it during her last trip to Amity Park, and organized it into this assignment, including multiple citations both within the ecto-science fields and otherwise, to make sure her paper was well-rounded. She had quadruple-checked everything, from her grammar, to her formatting, to the way she cited each of her sources.

For these reasons, Jazz was absolutely confounded by the red ink and stark zero written at the top of her returned paper. There was a sticky note attached, telling her to talk to the professor after class.

Jazz glanced between her paper, and the professor in horror. During the course of the term, Jazz had developed a deep respect for Dr. Kaplan, and her work on the psychology of people with PTSD. She must have a good reason for giving her such a poor grade, but the fact she received it at all filled her with mortification. She had never gotten a grade so low in her entire education. Jazz needed to know why, but she couldn’t even figure out what she had done wrong in the first place. In the corner of her mind, she had a sinking suspicion, but hoped with everything she was wrong.

Jazz spent the entire class in a tizzy. Constantly flipping back and forth between the day’s class-work and her paper. Outside of the first page, the rest of the paper was completely unmarked. Frustration began to simmer underneath Jazz’s skin. How was she supposed to fix this if the professor never even told her what she did wrong?! But it would be fine… she was meeting with the teacher after class anyways.

From that point forward, class moved forward at a crawl. Jazz still couldn’t pay much attention, and found her notes were much less organized than she would prefer. But when the professor dismissed them, Jazz practically darted to Dr. Kaplan’s podium.

The professor was a thin, wiry woman, dressed professionally, and looked down upon Jazz from behind equally wiry glasses. She gave Jazz a hard-look, almost one of disdain, and it was only the years of facing the nightmares of Amity Park that kept her from physically recoiling. She removed her eyes from Jazz and gazed around the still-emptying classroom.

“It might be better to have this conversation in my office,” Dr. Kaplan stated, leaving the room, with Jazz practically at her heels.

Dr. Kaplan’s office was a fair reflection of the woman herself. Neutral colors, her degree on display, and psychology books lining her singular bookshelf. Her desk was dark wood, and chairs cushions a beige leather. The plant sitting by the window was fake. It was all very professional, and at the same time very impersonal and lifeless. Despite the light colors and the sunlight streaming in through the window blinds, the atmosphere was near stifling.

The professor took her seat behind the desk, and Jazz hesitated, waiting until Dr. Kaplan gestured for her to take a seat. The seats were more stylish than they were comfortable. She gingerly set her paper on the edge of the desk, sitting board-straight in the chair.

“Ms. Fenton,” Dr. Kaplan practically sighed, “is there a reason you’re not taking my class seriously?”

The question came completely unexpected. “What are you talking about, Dr. Kaplan? I’ve been giving this class my best efforts,” Jazz pleaded.

Dr. Kaplan frowned, tapping her carefully manicured, neutrally colored nails against her paper. “This assignment says otherwise.”

Jazz frowned, mentally skimming over the paper. “I… I don’t understand. I’ve followed the assignment criteria almost exactly, I’ve even collected first-hand observations.”

Dr. Kaplan looked like she had sucked a lemon. “Ah, yes,” she said flatly. “Ms. Fenton, while you’ve followed the semblance of the rubric for this assignment to a near exceptional degree, a paper on the theoretical psychology of fictional beings is hardly an acceptable paper topic.”

Ah, there it was. Jazz had suspected as much, but it still didn’t calm the simmering frustration, boiling into anger under her skin.

“Honestly,” Dr. Kaplan continued, “for such a brilliant girl, I can only see the submission of a paper like this as a lack of care, and simply unprofessional to boot. To go as far as to make up sources, as properly cited as they are, is simply-”

It was taking everything within Jazz not to blow up in her professor’s face. Her nails were starting to bite into her palms, and her teeth felt sharp in her mouth as she grit them. Had Dr. Kaplan stopped at the whole ‘ghosts aren’t real’ bit, it wouldn’t have been anything she hadn’t heard before. But to accuse her of lying, and making up sources, that was getting a bit too close to unforgivable. She was losing any respect she had for this professor with every word out of her mouth.

“Those are real sources and I have recordings of the data I collected myself,” Jazz had to keep herself from hissing. “You’re welcome to check my sources. Of course, due to the analog nature of the recordings, they will require a tape player to view. As for the other second and third hand sources, they are all from qualified journals.”

“I admire the lengths you’ve gone to make your work of fiction as realistic as possible however-”

“Have you heard of Amity Park before?” Jazz could not stop herself from growling out the question, shooting to her feet, unable to take this sitting down any longer. “Have you done any research to support your claim over mine?”

Dr. Kaplan had a deer-in-headlights expression as Jazz towered over her desk, while also simultaneously adding the only color to her entire office through the reddening of her face. “Are you delusional? Ghosts aren’t real.”

Jazz felt what little ectoplasm that lived under her skin hum in tune with her rage as she slammed a hand down onto the desk, crinkling her paper underneath her wrath. This wasn’t about the grade anymore.

“Ecto-science is a pseudo-science at worst. It is young and mostly unexplored, but it is hardly fictional. Psychology used to occupy the very same space not too long ago. If you had done any research to check your biases, you would have found this out.”

Something was burning.

Jazz quickly snatched her paper back into her hands, gritting her teeth, and reigning in her anger as fast as she could. She cleared her throat hard enough for it to sound like a snarl.

“It appears your classroom will no longer be a conductive learning environment for me,” Jazz spoke evenly, tone carefully measured. “It would do you well to actually look into the topics your students write about.”

Jazz collected her things, already mentally filing out the required paperwork and emails to the Registar’s Office to have her transferred to a different class. She moved to the doorway and gave her professor a polite nod, ignoring the gobsmacked look on Dr. Kalplan’s face.

“Have a nice afternoon, Professor.”

Jazz fled the room, dead set in ignoring the hand-shaped burn she had left on her professor’s desk and the smoldering paper in her hands.

#danny phantom #goodfish writes #dp side hoes week 2024 #day 2 #jazz fenton #sometimes there are professors who aren't suitable to be teachers too #thinking about that class with the 100% fail rate...

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httpskuzuu · 10 months

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Please, Fedya

idk why, but I'm very embarrassed to publish this

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes.

tw: kidnapping, yandere, mention of: broken bones, abuse, isolation, bad mental health, punishment and escape attempt (nothing explicit really), stockholm syndrome, fyodor is a general tw

Your life with Fyodor had been good, as good as a life with a kidnapper could be, but you would never admit that out loud, it would be too hard a blow to your dignity.

At first everything was hell, Fyodor was the definition of cruel, it took you months to be able to get out of the 4 walls where he locked you up, in complete darkness. It screwed up your eyesight, your sleep and your overall health, physical and mental. He at least fixed those problems, paid for your eye surgery, gave you vitamin D supplements, helped you by fixing your sleep schedule, etc.

It wasn't so bad, except that not all the issues could be fixed, your mental health was horrible, it still is, you doubted he could fix that.

Before you had all that help Fyodor gave you, you had to change your behavior, you were always a fighter and with Fyodor it would be no exception. The turning point of your behavior was the night you tried to escape. He caught you, as punishment he broke both your legs and your fingers, he also left you in complete isolation, you don't know for how long. Since that punishment, you never disobeyed Fyodor again, not intentionally at least.

As time went by, and when he saw that your meek behavior was not a lie, he began to give you more liberties. One of the most important for you was the freedom to go outside, obviously accompanied by Fyodor.

Also, with that freedom to go out, you realized that Fyodor liked to treat you like a doll. Every time he allowed you to go out he was the one who dressed you, you had no voice or vote in that.

On those outings, you realized that the place you were in was Russia, you didn't know specifically which part. Before arriving in Russia, you had never seen snow in person, so it was beautiful the first time.

Today was one of those days that Fyodor allowed you to go out.

He dressed you in warm clothes and took you to a coffee shop. It was nicer than you thought it would be, not only because you went outside, but because your talks with Fyodor were pleasant.

By the time you left the coffee shop, it was getting dark, but you convinced Fyodor to go to a local bookstore and buy some books. It wasn't for you to read it (you didn't understand Russian and Fyodor had never tried to teach you so you couldn't communicate with others), it was for Fyodor to read it to you, it was an activity that, surprisingly, you enjoyed very much. You left the bookstore with a book of poems whose cover caught your attention.

Walking on your way home you heard high-pitched meowing coming from an alley, you stopped your steps and, consequently, to Fyodor, who was holding your hand.

"What is it, милый?"

"I heard meowing." Your gaze did not move from the alley.

You let go of Fyodor's hand and headed down the alley, Fyodor followed you closely until you reached a cardboard box lying on the ground.

You bent down and opened the box to find an orange furred cat, it was about the size of your hand and very thin. You wondered what kind of horrible person had abandoned such a cat.

You petted it and the cat reacted affectionately, rubbing its head against your hand. You laughed at the action and turned your head to see Fyodor standing behind you, still standing. "Please, Fedya, let's keep him."

Fyodor wasn't a big fan of cats, or animals in general, it wasn't that he hated them, but he preferred not to have pets. But there you were, begging him for an abandoned cat, and, well, you were being on excellent behavior, so he needed to give you a reward, right?

"Okay, but you'll be the one to take care of it." You nodded quickly as you grabbed the cat, pulled him against your chest, and covered him up as best you could with your coat.

The two of you walked out of the alley, you were petting the cat's little head as you smiled. Fyodor just looked at you, appreciating how cute you looked when you were happy. He thought that, perhaps, he could do more things to see that smile of yours more often.

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd fyodor #fyodor #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #yandere fyodor #yandere #yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd

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phoenixyfriend · 10 months

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Hey have a fun AU I came up with the other day after reading a bunch of fics with related tropes

It's a raised Sith AU. Anakin was found by Sidious well before he was found by Qui-Gon. He was raised by the Sith, is a classically horrible monster stalking about TCW to be Vader (mask and all, just as an intimidation factor instead of life support) while Ventress and Grievous and Dooku do their own things in a different section of the war. He's got a Really Fucking Weird dynamic with Obi-Wan, mostly attempting to kill him etc.

At some point, Palpatine allows Anakin and Padme to meet. The romance that blooms is one that Sheev decides is useful to him, so he lets it happen.*

Padme gets pregnant. Sidious arranges for her death. Anakin loses his entire shit and tries to kill Sidious. Obi-Wan is off trying to save Padme, unaware of Anakin getting his remaining limbs cut off by his this-universe Master. (This is important, because Anakin does remember Obi-Wan trying to save Padme.)

So we have Anakin, who was raised Sith, and just lost the only things that have mattered to him since his mom died when he was a kid, and Palpatine has pushed him further into the Dark than he ever has. Anakin… knows more about the Sith Secrets in this universe.

Anakin finds a Sithly Time Machine. Maybe on Malachor. There's an owl? Whatever.

Anakin, someone who's been Vader for the vast majority of his life, wakes up at age nine. Maybe even younger, like six. His mother is already dead at Sidious's hands. He's already roommates with Maul. He's already being trained as a baby Sith.

Anakin, being a 20 year old war veteran, is much better at escaping than Sidious has planned for. He reprograms a medical droid to take out his slave chip, steals a ship, etc. All the stuff that Maul wasn't very good at, and Anakin was too young for, so Sidious didn't have the preventative measures in place for yet.

Anakin heads for the one place and person he thinks he can trust: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(Obi-Wan is still a padawan. But this Baby Sith just declared him Adoptive Teen Dad, so.)

@lizasweetling (all indented bits from here will be hers):

Because Sith. Bad for mental health of the user and generally bad for their environs But also baby. And if hes dragging Maul around no doubt the dude is constantly himself confused why he is here Like yeah, Sidious sucked, and this 6-9yo is way powerful and knowledgeable on the dark side (?????) But why are we going to the Jedi? And not even trying to kill them apparently?????

Anakin is very much being affected by Baby Brain and Baby Endocrine System. He cries a lot more than he should.

I WASN'T THINKING OF HIM BRINGING MAUL BUT YEAH. THAT'S. THAT'S A POSSIBILITY.

Jedi Council trying to decide if this is more "Adult Sith got shrunk" or "child got evil man's memories." Vader wants to know why it even MATTERS. (He didn't actually plan on telling them, but he has very little self control right now.)

The first Good Act he does is tell them where to find Ventress and Ky. (In the original timeline, he viewed Ventress as like. Cool older cousin.)

Vader's right, that distinction does not matter Aaaw, she deserves that, that's nice Maybe she will be like 20% less homocidally traumatized

Anakin is furious when Maul and Obi-Wan pick him up under one arm like a package. He is a GROWN MAN he is an ADULT he was a SITH LORD and about to be a FATHER, he is TOO OLD FOR THIS.

They point out that he is Baby.

😂 sorry lord of evil, you're too baby, have a nap and maybe your feel better. Assuming the crisis on Naboo is still happening, and as such the vote of no confidence is right now, it might be a great time to report Sidious as a Sith lord. Post-escape from Sidious, both he and Maul definitely will need a nap. It's that kinda place.

Oh, it's probably at least a year before. Anakin keeps trying to sneak off to kill the man himself, but the Jedi are more ready for his Sneaking than Mustafar was, so he keeps getting caught before he can reach the Senate.

At one point he tries to just CHARGE the place and you get Mace and Obi-Wan sprinting after him. The News captures videos of this very small child getting chased by an older Padawan and a Master and they are mostly yelling for him to PUT DOWN THE SABER.

(Sidious might see him but what's he going to do? Might cause too many problems for Sidious to be aware of Anakin's presence with the Jedi, though. Best not.)

It's probably more expensive on average to hire an assassin on a child, just in general But on a jedi youngling??? If he can even find someone to do that, it will be so very, ridiculously expensive And likely 70%+ upfront payments

Ahsoka definitely seeks him out. Toddler baby child. She adores him for reasons unclear to anyone and everyone.

!!! Baby has baby!! Vader's probably a little thrown by this. Been a while subjectively since someone just loved him. And not even for like, a reason. Baby Vader coerced into sitting obediently for nap by tired kiddo: [The council liked that]

The number of times that vader could only be convinced to nap by Obi-Wan grabbing him, caging him in his own lap, and forced to Sit Quietly until he just fell asleep like that...

He has things to do, he's not tired 😡😡😡💢 (He's 9. Distances are between 150 and 195% longer when measured with steps, he's hungry (subjectively) all the time, and has only middling coordination He so is too tired)

Anakin doesn't know Qui-Gon at all but he keeps getting stuffed into the man's top because he's just. Small enough to fit.

Like the bomb boobs gif, but it's a small child.

the indignity

You just. You can't let him get too self-important.

Vader is Disgusted every time the pediatric healers try to talk down to him like they do to other 6yos.

The difference between this and other "Vader goes back in time to the Jedi" AUs (like Force of Many Sights) is that this Vader has never been a Jedi, and doesn't know anything about them except how they fight when he's trying to kill their friends.

Also Maul's there.

Because even he has a hard time taking himself seriously when hes so easy to manhandle Rest of the time; I am fear, I am death personified As luggage child: I am so small. The tiniest. I crave violence He's probably very annoyed they keep taking away his saber And hey! Obi gets practice not losing his! Woooo!

Something something Anakin clinging to Maul's back (piggy back ride) and chewing on his head or something stupid like that. Perfect height for head biting.

You know, the classic anime head bite

Maul probably has been nominally talked into this because this 9yo is a powerful darksider But he is also the world's most annoying tiny kid Maul would've thought his phenotype would make him immune to this ridiculousness He was wrong At least the teeth are a bit less pointy than his other little brothers'? Appreciating the little things

tfw your unwanted little brother drags you to what you think is a cult but actually they're way less culty than your last two places so you just stick around to keep an eye on the little shit

Anyway. ObiMaul for this one.

They're peers They're tired They just want to sit down and not have to chase this weird little murder child They have a lot in common 😊

They are all just a little bit stupid, I love them.

Qui-Gon is a Cool Mom (throws condoms at them and books it).

Yeah, that's about as much involvement as would be appreciated They probably did a lot of sparring before the tension broke Which did not relieve said tension, generally made it worse (Competence, athleticism, sweat-) Vader is confused, but probably doesn't mind He's probably glad they're distracting each other from stopping assassinating a certain someone (Which- that is 9yo hubris. He would need help to do that)

I still can't decide where on 6yo-9yo he falls but somewhere in there

Babies means easier hiding in shirt, teenie Ahsoka, and longer for him to convince the Jedi council to do a Sith hunt before the Naboo situation

Also longer for Maul and Obi-Wan to faff about being all Tension

* Vaguely inspired by the backstory of Rulebreaker/Wildheart, which is great but significantly more of a romance fic than this.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #maul #darth maul #obimaul #obi wan and anakin #anakin and obi wan #ahsoka tano #time travel #de aging #star wars #phoenix posts

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doobea · 5 months

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BORN TO MAKE HISTORY ─ RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: After his brother takes a nasty fall and calls out before the new season starts, Rin has to step up as your new figure skating partner.

✰ ✰ ✰જ⁀➴ PLAYLIST. | MASTERLIST

contents: an ice skating au fic (very much yuri on ice inspired), fem!reader, ice skating terms and irl figures thrown around, inaccurate depictions of figure skating, sfw, rin being awkward, sae is a decent brother in here, characters are in their early-mid 20s, talks about ISU grand prix, mentions of mental health (depression, anxiety, burn out, imposter syndrome), heavy narration, rin centric word count: 5.1K a/n: life has been super busy and hectic recently :( kisses to @popponn for beta reading my works as always <3 im forever grateful for you :) more notes towards the end of the fic <3

PREV. RINK | NEXT RINK

“What should we wear?” You’re pacing across the living room, hand tucked under your chin and brows furrowed.

Sae’s leaning to the side on the couch, trying to get a decent view of yesterday’s playback practice run on the rink every time you cross his line of vision. Rin’s also trying to pay attention to the jumps and step sequences too but, whenever his parts are about to come up, you seem to pause in front of the TV.

“I dunno, ask Rin,” Sae shrugs and turns up the volume, hoping that you would catch the hint.

It doesn’t matter though, because you’re shuffling in place and now your attention is honed on your phone, scrolling rapidly through what Rin can only assume are images of various costume designs. He’s seen a few of your professional photos from the previous years during his recent down time, a lot of the designs highlighted your feminine side with bright colors and pastels. It suits you, no surprise there, considering your outgoing personality. Rin, on the other hand, likes to keep it moody and, as his fans would like to call it, “Dark Paradise” core — whatever that means.

Well, it wouldn’t really matter if you did happen to ask for his opinion because, recently, Rin didn’t give two shits about what he wears. If anyone were to peek into his closet, which they would definitely need to fight through him first, they would discover an array of all different shades of black and blue in their deepest forms. Oh, and all he owns is athleisure attire, too. Rin doesn’t bother with all things fancy and tailored ever since going on break, though he has a creeping feeling that he might have to go back to it soon.

“As long as it’s not flashy, I’m fine with whatever.” Rin answers finally, and closes his eyes as he says it, realizing that he’ll either look incredibly out of place with whatever costume idea you’ll have in mind. He can’t quite place why he feels so stressed about it.

“Whatever?” You chirp back with a slight tilt. Rin can almost see the gears turning desperately in your head as your foot taps away in deep thought. “Have we even decided on a theme yet?”

“Considering we literally just started practicing? No.” Rin huffs out. He tips his head, letting his cheek settle comfortably against his palm.

Safe to say, his thighs and feet hurt like hell, laced with heavy exhaustion from yesterday’s session. He probably needs more sleep in more but, with both you and Sae knocking on his bedroom door this morning, he firmly decided in his mind to sneak away after today’s practice to catch up on some hours.

“Your jumps are sloppy,” Sae points out casually.

Rin rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime,” his brother shoots back before replaying the same damn sequence where Rin nearly loses his footing. The video is now playing in slow motion and zoomed in, painfully reminding Rin that he needs to upgrade his skincare routine. Somehow, he’s glad that you’re still covering half of the TV screen, unaware of the near wipe out scene from behind.

A few seconds later and Sae speaks again. “You look stiff here, bend your knees and loosen your arms.”

Rin sighs. “ ‘Kay…”

“We’re still going for ‘love’, right? Or are we not doing that?” Your arms are crossed, fingers drumming away, still deep in thought and tuned out from their own conversation. “What songs do you wanna skate to?”

Before Rin could even provide a half-assed answer to that, Sae interrupts his thoughts with, “Please try and at least look like you’re having fun.”

“…noted,” Rin decides with a sigh. “I’m going back to bed when this is over.” Screw napping after practice, he barely got a full eight hours last night and being berated so bright and early in the morning killed any sort of energy he had prior.

“Nope,” Sae pauses halfway through the video, turning to face him with a stern look. “You’re not going back to bed, because then you won’t wake up in time for practice. Sleeping in will only ruin your current sleep schedule, too.”

Rin wants to retort that he’s not a fucking child anymore, that he doesn’t need Sae to be looking after him. However, there’s the fact that his brother is sorta his manager now and in charge of quite literally everything of Rin's career. Also, it’s kinda hard to come up with a solid comeback when they’re reviewing his rusty movements, lackluster jumps, and every thirty seconds he’s taking a small break to catch his damn breath.

You eventually plop down in the middle of the couch, between both brothers, when you realize that your question isn’t going to be answered simply. After Sae finally gets the chance to thoroughly watch a good chunk of yesterday’s practice sequence, you switch topics. “Just so you know, Rin, have you seen your comment section lately?”

Sae shuffles in his seat and suddenly Rin feels the air in the room thickening. Rin fiddles with his phone in hand, knowing full well that he did post a ‘comeback’ announcement only to then quickly turn his app notifications off, because… of his feelings of self cautiousness? Would that be the right term he’s looking for?

“What did he do?” Sae’s asking you because he knows damn well Rin wouldn’t give him the full details and you’re just so damn open about everything so Rin can’t possibly hide from this one.

But, instead of answering Sae, you cough, loud and awkward, before shooting Rin an apologetic look. “Um, nothing…?”

Alright, well Rin takes it that you’re a god awful liar.

Sae’s now staring directly in Rin’s direction and he’s trying so hard to avoid eye contact right now by pretending that their family portrait wall is the most interesting thing in the room. Of course, that doesn’t work because he can hear Sae tapping away freely on his phone and—

“Did you fucking block me on Instagram?”

Okay, yeah, Rin totally forgot about that, too. To be fair, when someone is going through a depressive episode for over a year, the last thing anyone would want to see on their feed is the success of their older sibling.

“No?”

And, turns out, he’s also an awful liar.

Sae is not happy. He is very, very unhappy.

He’s not usually the emotionally expressive type to most people, so that usually leaves Rin the luxury of experiencing the back end when his brother does decide to let his walls down. And, well, in the past, when he did get pissed off, Sae would normally vent about his coaches and stalkerish fans with a bit of sass to it, but today?

He’s currently grumbling and groaning and Rin’s pretty sure his shirt is on backwards, and bless your soul, but also fuck you, for dragging him into this mess.

After a very short Google Search of what Rin has done, followed by an equally as short lecture on how to be professional on the internet, Rin is grimley reminded by the large number of likes and retweets on Twitter that his announcement might’ve not been the best thing he’s ever posted. He really can’t understand why though, because Rin was deadset sure he was going to lose his career nearly three years ago when he got into a fight with another skater, so why is he getting canceled for announcing something… tamed? Well, he also hasn’t exactly opened his social media apps since then. A strange gnawing feeling comes up whenever he fights off the urge to check.

“You should’ve held off or at least came to me before posting something like this.”

It’s a miracle that there’s nobody else but you three at the local rink right now. It’s been nearly an hour since arrival and Rin has gotten nothing but an earful from Sae. If any family were to walk in, they’d probably immediately walk out by the sheer amount of heavy tension steaming off on the ice.

You’re stuck in your own little corner doing all sorts of warm up jumps and stretching, glancing over every now and then at Rin as your way of saying ‘sorry’ and ‘are you doing, okay’. To which, Rin would glance back with a very stiff shrug.

“What difference would it make?” Rin’s cheeks are a little flushed and there’s a slight hitch to his breath, he had just completed a couple of routine jumps Sae instructed him to do.

“Plenty,” then Sae flashes Rin a quick glimpse of his phone screen.

An array of outrageous news articles and forums come through, many of them pointing out the strange timing and the internal turmoil of sibling rivalry. There’s a couple of them mentioning drugs, two threads from some third-party news site throwing your name to the mud, and then a short Buzzfeed article listing a slideshow of other skaters congratulating Rin for rejoining the sport again.

“People are speculating that you’re only stepping in because I’m down for this season. If you would’ve just waited until everything was put together then everything would’ve been different.”

Rin blinks a little, surprised by the flush coloring his brother's cheeks that’s most certainly not from the cold rink.

Although, in a way it did make sense. If there’s one thing that famous athletes do know about the media is the fact that news outlets love fabricating drama out of nothing. Sae’s a well known gold medalist, no matter what division that medal came from, so his name came out of people’s mouth as frequently as compared to Yuzuru Hanyu or even Yuuri Katsuki, whenever figure skating was mentioned. It made sense for others to grow suspicious when Rin randomly posted that he’s coming off of hiatus without further explanation. Sae most likely hasn’t told anyone that he’s being subbed in.

Rin hesitantly nods, his snarky response dies in his throat and he feels like he’s swallowing needles when faced with the awkward reality. He’s now reluctant to speak, unsure if anything he’d say would make a difference — for better or worse. Knowing himself, probably the latter.

After a few seconds of silence, followed by a few jumps performed by you in the background, Sae runs a hand through his hair, in what Rin believes is a rare nervous gesture, looking away briefly.

“Revival,” his brother finally blurts out. “That’s the theme. You guys fine with that?” Sae’s asking, but there’s a finality to his tone. Rin and you will have to be fine with it. The season starts in a few months, soon Sae would need to prepare choreography for two programs, consult a designer for custom fittings, and take over all things that a coach and manager would do. Somehow, despite being out for this year, Rin thinks Sae might have the hardest job here.

“No objections here.”

Two months and many hours of exhausting training later, you and Rin are standing in the locker room for the first competition as an official pair. It’s the first day of the Japan Figure Skating Championships and, somehow, you look more put together than he is.

“Think this looks good?” You do a 360 spin in front of the wall mirror in your short program outfit. It’s a simple short black, gray dress with mesh sleeves and small rhinestones running down the middle. According to the designer, it’s supposed to represent the night sky.

Rin stands behind you and adjusts his black vest. Gold and white thread accents throughout his patterned shirt compared with plain black trousers. He’s supposed to adjust his cuffs, but his fingers keep fumbling with the last button because his eyes are awkwardly getting lost in your outfit. Luckily, you’re too focused on yourself to take notice.

You eventually lean closer, repeating the question when he takes too long to answer, and he feels your breath against his shoulder. “Everything alright? Are you nervous for today?” Your voice is a little hesitant, full of concern that makes Rin’s stomach slightly jump to his throat.

“Everything’s fine,” Rin sighs as he manages to shove the last button through. It’s not like he’s going to lose this competition, he might be somewhat rusty but he didn’t qualify for the Grand Prix Final just based on his name alone. “It’s just… a little bit weird that we’re the oldest ones here,” he confesses.

“You’re still hung up about that?”

It’s stupid and maybe a bit irrational, he knows that much.

You’ve also already tried to convince Rin otherwise multiple times today, but he couldn’t shake off the humiliating feeling of entering a competition where your competitors are almost half your age. Okay, maybe Rin’s being dramatic, but at least five years younger. From what he can recall, it was usually the other way around whenever he competed in men’s singles tournaments. Having to see and now experience that is something he never really mentally prepared himself for.

From the moment he stepped into the locker room, Rin was basically towering over the rest of the athletes. It’s fine, kinda, all he really needs to focus on right now is landing all of his jumps and catching you. Sae’s a strict teacher, but he doesn’t force weird techniques on others if he knows they can’t handle it.

��Isn’t he, like, totally washed up right now?”

“Shh, don’t say it so loud, Makoto! He’s right there.”

“Oh, shit, let’s go before he…” Rin didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of the sentence, not with you scooting right beside him on the bench and shoving your right ear bud into his ear.

He’s learned quickly from the following days that you are not the playlist type of person like most people. Unlike normal and sane folks, you have all of your liked songs in one playlist and you like spending your time shuffling away through the vast hundreds of genres and artists until finding the right one. In your own words, if you were to make a playlist then it would easily be over a few dozen — why do that when all of your favorite songs are in one spot?

That being said, you’re currently blasting a Frank Ocean song before shifting through a couple more songs with the intent of finding both the short program and free skate song. Oh, and for some reason you don’t use the search function at all through your liked playlist. Apparently, it “ruins” the fun.

“This would’ve been a nice song to skate to,” the tune switches to something more upbeat and indie, Rin recognizes the band to be Florence and the Machine from the vocals alone. “Sae complained about the song being too long and I called him a lazy loser shortly after.” You say with a smile but Rin’s eyes drift down only to see your leg bobbing up and down rapidly.

Rin tries to pay no mind as he continues to put on his skates. “A six minute long performance would be too much,” he agrees with Sae’s previous answer.

“Hey, tickets to these sorts of things are expensive nowadays with scalpers everywhere!” You try to reason. “If someone’s spending two hundred dollars on a seat then they can sit through a six minute long skating sequence.”

Rin rolls his eyes as he fiddles with a tangled lace. “I didn’t mean the people in the audience, I meant the skaters.”

“Well, maybe we should learn a thing or two from people who do Disney on Ice?”

“I do not want that to be my fall back career, thank you.” A shiver creeps down his spine at the thought of being forced to skate while wearing a Mickey Mouse costume of all things. Seriously, do people clean those suits?

“Hey, are you…” both of your ears perk at the sound from behind. Rin turns around first, he’s immediately greeted by one of the younger male competitors. The boy looks like he’s still growing into his body, probably not any older than seventeen.

“Yeah, I am,” Rin finishes the obvious question. Maybe the kid’s a fan by how bright his face lights up soon after. “Is there something you need?” Sae’s been drilling him to be a little bit more receptive to fellow competitors and fans alike, in order to fix some of his reputation.

“I’ve been looking at your past performances, lately,” the kid starts with a smile. “Last year, during the Grand Prix Final, you did good!”

“Thanks—”

“Your theme was the same as the previous years, but I guess that’s just something you’re comfortable with, right? The falls that you took, it was because your balance was off. You need to work better on finding your center during jumps if you seriously plan on competing in the senior division again.”

Rin only notices the pain digging in his fists when you reach over, palm encasing over his closed ones. You don’t bother looking his way, but you do say something to the kid. It sounds muffled though, or maybe Rin’s somehow zoning out? He’s not sure.

The loss from the Grand Prix is apparently still at the forefront of his mind, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise. People love to pick out that particular part in his performance, acting as if they could pull it off any better. And, for a brief moment, all his past of anger and frustration at the sport suddenly comes rushing back at an overwhelming rate. Rin’s wondering who else wants to criticize him when they meet him again.

“Don’t they teach kids manners these days?” You try to shoot a glare back but, from Rin’s perspective, it just looks like you’re mildly constipated.

It kinda ends up working, because the kid backs off, scurrying away and off to his manager for last minute pep talk. Sae’s currently running late as usual, but it’s not like you two would need any words of encouragement. Rin’s competitive nerves have fizzled out by this point, at least for this event, but he’s now seething with discomfort. He’s certainly positive that you’re feeling the same way.

“I take it back, some of these kids need to be humbled and maybe even bullied.”

Okay, while Rin would agree, he feels like he has to somewhat step up in Sae’s place to make sure you don’t accidentally get kicked out of this competition for sucker punching a kid.

“It’s fine, don’t get too worked up over it. I more or less expected comments like that.”

Rin never expected anything to come easy. Climbing for his spot again in the competitive world can be absolutely ruthless and meeting skaters who are arrogant, condescending, and taunting are just part of the reality. He suspects that everyone else sees him as a washed up skater, never as a real competitor, or a real challenger for the gold medal.

“Still,” you pout, unsatisfied by his logical response, but drop the conversation as Rin tightens his laces. Then, you finally manage to find the song for the short program section after the relentless shuffling.

“It’s fine,” he reassures, and really, it’s kinda-sorta fine. It’s something that he’ll eventually get used to, even if he’s well aware of the heinous rumors floating around. Everything will die down after a week or two since most people can barely hold their attention span nowadays.

“If you’re positive,” you go back to your phone, but not before poking Rin’s sides and redirecting his attention towards the TV screen in the locker room. “Hey, the first pair is competing.”

Pair skating is a lot different from competing in singles. Aside from the obvious involvement of another party, there are more requirements in the short and free skate performances. In the Adult Singles programs, the skater focuses more on their jumps, having a higher emphasis on how many quads they can shove in — or at least that’s how Rin used to work. Quads granted him the majority of the points, it’s something that he can take some pride in compared to his other juniors and seniors.

For pairs, instead of focusing on jumps in the sequences, it’s lifts. There’s two types of lifts, overhead and twists, both are required in the programs. In general, overhead lifts rely on the movement of the person in the air, the control and execution of their rotations around the person carrying them. For twists, the most “exciting” part of the performance by judges’ words, requires an insane amount of coordination and strength since Rin has to propel you into the air by the waist.

Sae had the lovely idea to throw in three overhead lifts, just because he thinks Rin can handle it. Those evening practices at the rink, followed by early morning lifting sessions absolutely killed him, both physically and spiritually. Though, safe to say that he’s just about near his physical peak last year from all the training.

You and Rin both waited patiently in the locker rooms for the first three pair performances, only leaving and heading by the outer rink when you guys queued next. Sae leans against the railing, the brace on his foot now gone and, instead of chunky sneakers, he’s opted back to his expensive loafers. Maybe that’s why he ran late, just in case paparazzi took snapshots of his entire outfit. Go figure.

“I think you guys will have no issue securing gold.” Sae’s voice comes through the haze of Rin’s thoughts, sounding distinctly unimpressed by the current line up. “Even if you guys fumble your lifts, I think the amount of it will carry enough points.”

Erupted cheers soon fill the air and all eyes turn to the rink as the pair’s performance ends. You soon recognize one of the skaters being the teenager from earlier and throw Rin a look.

“We’re going to make sure that he doesn’t get a chance at winning until next year.” You announce, tone casual but eyes flickering something darker than what Rin’s used to.

Sae scoffs and leans against the railing, holding Rin’s Winnie the Pooh tissue box in his arms. “I’m assuming the locker room talk wasn’t all too friendly?”

“Maybe not your usual idea of friendly,” and Rin surges forward, taking your hands into his, when the pair in question struts by and casts both of you a nasty glare. Your grip around his bicep tightens and, while he didn’t care too much about beating a bunch of lukewarm competitors earlier, Rin’s fully certain that he wants nothing more than that gold medal and to clear both of your names from accusations right now.

Piano sounds ring throughout the arena from the speakers, starting with a single word that you’ve both heard countless times during practice. The soft piano notes quickly turn into a somber melody, growing louder with every passing second. The music is beautiful. Haunting, even. Capturing the audience in a trance while Rin prepares you for your first lift.

It’s strange, he thinks. While he’s gotten used to handling you, this is different from every other time. During practices, you’re always carefree and cheerful but, out here, surrounded by cameras and opinions of others that don’t weigh a thing, you’re focused and extremely precise in your form.

Rin thought he knew your routine. Clearly, he’s mistaken.

You skate with conviction, confidence, and accuracy. He can understand why you were originally Sae’s skating partner.

Once you’ve landed back on the ice, keeping up with Rin’s speed, the two of you follow the song’s beat with a smooth series of spins and jumps, each one rotating faster and faster until it feels like the mere audience is just a blurry backdrop in the foreground.

The final lift jump transitions easily into a simple step sequence before finally ending in a death spiral. Rin has a firm grip on your hand as you begin flattening your body low enough, face barely grazing the ice below, as he pivots you around in lull circles.

Judging from the sounds from the audience, Rin didn’t need to stay around to know the results of the performance. The roars, chants, and the standing ovation from them is enough to make out the outcome but, for your sake, he’ll stick it through.

You both glide through the last few seconds of the short program, focusing on nothing but the music and remaining movements. Finally, the music notes fade out and the two of you come to a rest in the middle of the rink, the final position has Rin tipping your body backwards with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, as if you both were reaching for something just out of your grasp.

Thunderous roars ring in his flushed ears and you’re shooting him a look, eyes glassy and lips parting, possibly saying some sort of praise, but Rin can’t seem to focus. He’s too lost in thought, too distracted by the tenderness of the performance, the flashing lights, the way your chest is heaving in rapid waves, and didn’t realize he had been holding in his breath until you pulled him into a tight embrace.

Everything is just about perfect. Every jump, lift, and spin. He can already imagine the gold medal around his neck, and the thought of winning gold at the Grand Prix only makes the rest of his blood course through his veins faster.

Being a professional athlete again is… exhausting.

Rin spends the following day in back to back conferences and being introduced to people. Most of them end up being unremarkable and forgettable. A couple of them are rude and eccentric, with one guy in particular honing down Rin in a corner and bombarding him with questions both surrounding his performance last year and his personal life. You and Sae had to step in to diffuse the situation before Rin blew a hole in his career again.

By the end of the night, Rin debates whether he should switch careers because this shit is absolutely not for him. It’s no surprise to anyone that Rin hates being around people and this night he’s probably escaped to the restroom maybe about five times to catch a breather. And, while Rin is not the type to exactly care about his image, he absolutely does a full body inspection in the full body mirror every time before he steps back out. Each time he revisits a new wrinkle line forms.

And his brother hasn’t told him when it’ll be over.

Rin’s hands twitch after another self-proclaimed journalist finishes up a half-ass interview about his latest goals for this year. He pulls out his phone when they suggest giving out their contact information and Rin just zones out, tapping away gibberish in his notes app and nodding until they finally went away.

He feels like he’s going to vomit and pass out if this goes on any longer.

“You look like you’re about to freak out,” and of course, you have the decency to point that out as he’s made the fruit salad section his little hideaway spot. Turns out people really dislike any sort of fruit dishes at these fancy events.

“I’m not,” Rin muffles back, mouth stuffed with various chunks of honeydew and grapes. Even if it is true, he’ll never admit it, but it also does suck that he's stupidly easy to read. “The food just sucks here, that’s all.” The fruit isn’t that bad. Maybe just the strawberries.

“Whatever you say, partner,” you roll your eyes playfully, almost giggling at the nickname before taking a sip from the glass of champagne in your hands. “If you want, we can sneak out of here and explore the city.” It’s a suggestion but, from the way you’re smiling, Rin picks up that he can’t wiggle his way out of it.

But he tries anyway.

“Do you even know your way around?” He sounds vaguely concerned.

Sure, it’s been approximately two months since you’ve crashed and turned his life a complete 180, but you’re still new to the area and very much new to the country. Rin’s heard you picked up basic phrases from his brother to get around but it’s still nearly not enough to go and explore, especially late at night. And, rightfully so, he doesn’t plan on babysitting while you waltz around half tipsy off your mind after winning first place.

You fake a wound over your chest and gasp, hiccuping soon after. “I have maps on my phone! I already pinned and favorited a bunch of cute stores we can check out.”

Rin doesn’t know why you even bother throwing him into the equation considering it’ll clearly be stores you’ll like.

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” Sae’s sauntering over, a half empty glass of wine in hand, and his movement is a little sluggish, but he’s probably the only few sobered up person in the room aside from Rin.

“Out,” you reply with a casual shrug, as if Sae’s supposed to be satisfied with the answer.

“Out...” Sae echos before flickering his sudden sharp gaze over to Rin. He feels himself straightening up before he realizes. “You guys still have to make your statements to the press, you know that, right?”

“Can’t we do it after we get back?” You quickly dismiss Sae’s annoyed scrunch with a quick waft of a hand.

Rin really doesn’t want to stand in front of a bunch of drunken and overly zealous journalists right now if he doesn’t have to. The idea of visiting a few late night street vendors might just be his highlight for today.

“Hey,” Sae’s agitated voice snaps him out of his daze. “Are you seriously going out?”

Instead of providing his brother a proper answer, Rin takes a hold of your hands and throws his jacket over your bare shoulders. You were complaining earlier about losing yours, and the last thing he wants is a drunk and cold skating partner in the middle of the streets of Nagano.

2024 — NAGANO: JAPAN FIGURE SKATING CHAMPIONSHIPS

Posted 16 hours ago 278,293 views

Comments 543

[niCOnii] - 10 hours ago All these rin haters from earlier can eat my socks because i knew he would comeback!!! his partner ain’t half bad either tbh View 30 replies [klnen2003] - 9 hours ago GO TO THE VIDEO AT 4:45 and see how Rin looks at Y/N!!! There’s definitely something there, right??? View 12 replies [YOICHISAGI OFFICIAL] - 9 hours ago Can’t wait to see Rin Itoshi and Y/N L/N compete at the Grand Prix this year!! Let’s catch up sometime! View 154 replies [jiroMark8734] - 8 hours ago I dunno… isn’t it weird how they swept everyone else tho? Can’t tell me that they’re both not taking anything lmao [my_skates_my_life] - 7 hours ago Congrats to everyone for winning!! And thank you so much for posting this. LOVE FROM ARGENTINA!! [merhaba234] - 7 hours ago Rin’s always doing the same level type program both in technique and artistic. It’s refreshing to see something new!

TAGLIST - OPEN

@anurst @blissblossom @genneii @wooasecret @chaosinanutshell @kaiserkisser @rroxii @takotakigum @jaynawayna @peachesncats @sseishiross @izumi-astra-123 @sereniteav @pokkomi

a/n: im crawling on the ground,,, if anyone knows me: i love making rin suffer but please know its in a loving way. is his brother hotter? yeah. but does his brother have a sad backstory? yeah probably. either way, i love working w men with sibling complexes and his whole design basically oozes with melodrama. rin!!! you are gonna be in it for a surprise next chapter!! also apologies for the late update everyone hehe i dont have a set schedule for everything ;-; and my mind runs either at 500 miles an hour or 0 miles. as of late, life has gotten in the way of things and maybe i do need to stick with some sort of plan to make myself ... less stressed when creating content :> anyways, i love you guys!!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x female reader #cw: depression #cw: mental health

211 notes · View notes

rysko · 4 months

Note

my request would be literally anything with luca changretta x shelby sister that pairing in this fandom is so my guilty pleasure love your writing so so much, whether you make it into a drabble, hcs or a mini fic i would be happy — gotta love that forbidden enemy lovin 😋

Too old for this - Luca Changretta x F!reader

summary: Keeping secrets, lying to your family, sneaking out...All to see a man, god, what are you? Seventeen again?

OR three times you snuck out to see Luca, and one time he snuck out to see you.

Warnings: Peaky-typical swearing, very minor violence, this is just romantic-comedy-themed fluff,

A/N: Special thanks (and a big fuck you) to @red-riding-wood, next time we race in writing we're making rules.

Aaaaaaanyways, So Sorry this took so long anon! This writing slump was horrible. I really hope you'll enjoy this silly thing!

tag list (yay i have one finally!): @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings

This was stupid. This was so dumb.

Coat hung loosely around your shoulders, shoes in your hands as if to not make more noise than necessary, you snuck through the Small Heath Shelby house corridors. Almost cartoonishly so, when your frame passed one of the occupied rooms. If you had to guess, the last time you did that was years ago, when you were just a teenage girl with overprotective brothers, now you're an adult, rough-around-the-edges woman...with the same overprotective brothers.

Though, this time it's not a nice stableboy you're sneaking out to see. Now it seems like your brothers would have every right to threaten the man you're seeing with a blinding.

You slowly go down the old, wooden stairs, wincing at every crack and whine that echoes. The whole house is dark, the room illuminated only by the street lamps outside.

Almost...

Before you reach for the doorknob, you clumsily take the keys into your teeth to put your shoes on, which puts you in quite an embarrassing position when a table light behind you suddenly turns on.

"Aren't you a bit too old to be sneaking about Y/N?" Polly asked with a smugly raised eyebrow, nursing a glass of whiskey, legs crossed on the velvet red armchair. You spit out the keys.

"I'm not sneaking." You try to compose yourself as best as you can. "I'm going for a walk."

"Very conspicuous behaviour for a walk, love." The glass muffles her chuckle. Was she just...waiting here?

"I just don't want Tommy to get in my hair whenever I even look in the doors' direction." You whine. "I'll go crazy in this house soon." This seemed to soften Polly up just a bit, or maybe activate the part of her brain which insists on the 'fuck them' mentality when it comes to obeying Tommy's orders.

"Just don't get into trouble. God knows i need to tell you that." She dismissed you with a flick of the wrist, and you just nodded before rushing out the door, as if Polly could change her mind any second.

Street after street, the tension slowly eased off your shoulders as you were exiting the tight Shelby territory. It was a close call once in a while, someone almost recognizing you before you could cover your face more. A group of men whistling after you before you could disappear in a dark back alley. Slowly, you closed in on the place you agreed to meet a man by the name you even feared to say in your head, as maybe Tommy would sit there by sheer coincidence, resulting in you getting cut, or him, or both of you, how Shakespearean...

How has it gotten to the point where you are happily fucking the enemy? Devil knows, honestly.

In the back of your mind, you always had a nagging feeling Luca only started seeing you to spite Tommy. This wouldn't be a problem, of course, you regularly told yourself. You're spiting Tommy yourself!

No, that honestly didn't help. The truth is, whatever Changretta's intentions were, or, still are, you found him irresistibly captivating. Like a substance you just can't resist, one that soothes and pleasures, but at the same time comes with a fifty-page warning label. You can see this blowing up in your face from a mile away, in a million different ways. Yet, every visit, every phone call, hell, every sneakily delivered note shuts off any sense you have left in yourself.

And now you feel like losing it again, when just in front of the speakeasy Luca asked to meet you, a very familliar set of hands gently rest on your waist from behind.

"Took you long enough doll." A kiss on the cheek accompanies the low foreign drawl of Luca's voice, sending shivers down your neck and spine. Shit, if all of you will die soon, you might as well have some fun until then. It's not like Tommy's staying celibate in mourning.

"You're saying that to a doll that has to endure my brothers mythering about town. Sneaking out in the middle of the night isn't as easy for me as it is for you." With your arms crossed, you motion to one of the alleys you emerged from just moments ago. "There's all sorts of shady blokes out and about."

"M'sorry, i got impatient, that's all." You could feel his thumb gently rubbing against your waist "Anyone gave you trouble? You got the gun I got you?" Luca pulled back, looking you over, the slightest hint of concern visible in his dark eyes.

"Yes. To the second thing. I'll be fine." You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. "Are we going in?"

"Right this way cara." Luca's lips curled into a small smile. He linked your arms together and in a nearly over-the-top way led you down the stairs of the high-class Speakeasy.

You might as well have some fun, that's all this is after all.

The loud whistle of the conductor woke you up from an on-and-off slumber, the train from Birmingham to London wasn't exactly the comfiest place to rest your head in. From outside the window, the ever-so-lively London train platform came into view.

To be honest, it surprised you when Luca invited you to spend the weekend in London, even more so when you managed to form quite an elaborate story to justify the trip to your family, or more accurately, Polly. Tommy seemed preoccupied with fighting the Italians, chasing the May lady around town, and making quite mediocre gin to even care what you were up to. Needless to say, officially you finally found a friend that you just have to visit. Polly seemed to pay it little mind, but the sly look in her eye, as she saw you off at the door, made you just a tad paranoid that she might have caught on.

Like always, this will bite you in the arse sooner or...sooner.

Up until now, every 'visit' you paid Luca hadn't lasted for more than half a day, only once reaching a full 24 hours when, to your horror, you managed to oversleep. That was a morning of sloppily put-on clothes and numerous muttered 'shits' and 'craps', of course, accompanied by a very amused Luca doing everything in his power to distract you.

What you were doing right now seemed like a step up from the usual routine. Two days aren't going to fly by with just sex, though, that wouldn't be so bad. But lately, you realized you just wanted to...ugh, spend time with him. However sappy this sounded. But that's not what this is. What even is 'this'? When you and Luca met, what happened was purely driven by want, maybe with more than a touch of curiosity of the 'forbidden fruit' in the form of the enemy. Sweet, with sour at the back of your tongue.

Lately, you realized, you only feel the sweet when you kiss Luca. And though you'd never admit it, you dread him not feeling the same.

You two have your moments. Pillow talks with topics never discussed with anyone before, coffee filled with banter worthy of an old married couple, and non-sexual touches that linger for just a bit longer than they should. It's addicting and confusing at the same time.

And that addiction and confusion just led you all the way to London.

Stretching out of your seat, you reach for your bag in the luggage compartment, only for a stranger to take it instead.

"There you go, Miss." The man, looking maybe a decade your senior smiled handing you the bag.

"Thank you, sir." You muster a polite smile, praying internally that the stranger isn't from the same place you are. "I could've done it myself though."

"It's really nothing, common kindness it is..." The longer he spoke, the more his voice trailed off. His eyes widened, studying your frame and most importantly, your face with a new approach. "You're-"

shit

"Thankyougoodbye." You rush and almost run out of the carriage, running into multiple people and throwing rushed half-assed apologies their way. You're stopped by a strong, painful grip on your arm, the man from before pushing you further down the platform, more secluded from people.

"I knew you were familiar." He grabbed the collar of your shirt and pushed you into a pillar roughly, knocking a bit of air out of your lungs. "One of those Shelby devils!" The man's gaze was furious, almost seeing red.

"Let me go." You ordered, trying your best not to attract attention to the both of you. "And we can both forget about this." You're trying your best to speak sternly and diplomatically, yet more than a hint of fear is hearable in your voice. He seems to notice.

"You ruined me!" The Brummie spat. "I'll cut your pretty face just like they cut me brothers." A rough, callous hand cupped your jaw to hold it in place, the other reaching into his jacket. You feel a mixture of panic and adrenaline make its way to your veins.

"Get the fuck off me!" All your strength goes towards your legs. You kicked him back a foot or two, which only seemed to infuriate him more. Before he could take even a step towards you, he's violently grabbed by... Wait, Luca?

"How 'bout you let the lady go, hm?" His grip on the brummies' collar turned red, almost lifting the man off the ground. That wasn't reflected at all in the way Luca was speaking however, for the first time he seemed...calm, condescending even. That only changed when the man didn't seem to take no for an answer. "That wasn't a fucking request." Luca's voice became a gravelly threat, which resulted in the attacker promptly looking between you and Luca as if weighing the risk and reward. Finally, he nodded his head frantically.

Luca didn't need to be told twice. He almost threw the man aside, letting him limp off into the distance. The Italian was almost immediately by your side, gently cupping your face, checking for any sign of hurt or damage. You feel his thumb caress a small spot next to your brow, despite you being almost sure you hadn't been hit anywhere near there. You take a look behind Luca to see the man at a larger distance.

"Wouldn't think you'd just let him go like that." You raise an eyebrow at Luca, not in a teasing way, it just feels oddly out of character for him to just let him go.

"Because I ain't gonna." He turns to a seemingly unaware civilian reading a newspaper, mumbling something that sounds like Italian, his head only slightly motioning towards the direction in which the Brummie fled. Ah, one of his men, cousin maybe. Just as he left, Luca stopped him for just a second more. "Alive." He let him go.

"Look at you, my knight in shining armour." You smile up at him while catching your breath and trying to calm down.

"Yeah yeah." He doesn't play into your teasing this time. "You alright?" He rubs your upper arm as if dusting off any remaining trace of the event before.

"Just a bit roughed up, had it worse after playfighting with Ada back in the day." You shrug. "I was prepared for you to bash his head in right here."

"That can wait a few days." His gaze followed a pair of men dragging the attacker off the station, his voice almost a promise.

"A few days? What happened to the vengeful, impatient Luca I know?"

"This Luca-" He holds out his arm for you to take. "-Is going to starve him a bit before giving him the mercy of a pipe through his skull."

"How romantic." You sigh in an exaggerated, lovesick voice. "Talk more like that and maybe I'll lift the 'no shop talk' policy." You wink at Luca as you link your arms together, his shoulder becoming the perfect pillow for your head. This time, Luca welcomes it happily.

"How gracious of you." His low chuckle meets yours as you head off to the London center. A fun weekend out is due, after all.

Now, this was definitely an unusual location.

At first, it seemed to you that Luca must have just confused locations when calling. Yet here you were, on the outskirts of a local forest, your only companions in the form of singing starlings and rustling trees.

All this seemed like a rope that was being pulled from only one side. You were the one to stress about being found out, evading family, hell, call sometimes. You felt like a brat, honestly. Technically, there was nothing Luca did that should have upset you, he couldn't have if there were no rules. Was that the thing though? Did you want there to be rules?

With every visit, you want to stay longer, talk more, and Luca seemed to entertain all of it. It confused you. What plan did he have with all this? Did Luca want you to catch feelings and lure you into a vulnerable state, resulting in killing you? Maybe he counted on you as a potential ally against Tommy, trying to manipulate you. Maybe he's just incredibly dense?

He can't want an actual relationship. Luca came here to kill your whole family, including you. The fact that he also likes to play with his prey is another thing, hell, he probably has a wife or girl back in New York. There has to be a wedding band under one of these tacky rings and signets.

"What the hell is he planning?" You kick a pebble down the dirt road in frustration. "A damn Picnic?" You finish off with a groan as you squat down.

Your answer came in the form of the sound of a Rolls Royce engine heading closer and closer toward you, the black car kicking up a hefty amount of dust and rocks. As it slows down next to you and ultimately comes to a halt, you see the familiar face of Luca's right-hand man.

"Get in." Matteo nodded in the direction of the backseat, though you didn't take it into consideration, and immediately headed for the shotgun seat.

"What is all this?" You look around the car as it backs up and starts speeding off in the same direction it came from.

"Luca asked me to get you to him safely," Matteo explained, not taking his eyes off the road. "He didn't want any uhh, repeat from last time."

"How sweet." You answer sarcastically. Ah, of course, he couldn't bother.

"He was definitely sweet when he put the bozo out of his misery." He laughed, looking to the side, as if seeking approval for his joke, but didn't get any. Matteo's laughter dies into an awkward cough.

"How long's the ride?" You try to position yourself as comfortably as possible in the stiff leather seats of the car.

"About an hour." He answers, and you visibly deflate in your seat, deciding to spend the time looking at the sights outside, fields, and occasional houses passing by.

A long, awkward silence passes between the two of you. It seemed to bother the man to your right, who tapped his index finger against the steering wheel while stealing the occasional glance. He looked like he was debating saying something.

"So..." He begins, almost like a father starting a conversation with a child he doesn't quite get. "Did you finish Ulysses yet?"

"Did..." You do a double take, studying Matteo for a long second. "...Did Luca give you conversation starters?"

"What if I made them up?" He blurts out.

"We've spoken twice, Matteo." You raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed. "I never told you what I read."

"Maybe I just guessed what girls like nowadays." He smirked at you, feeling triumphant.

"I'm sorry, but you're the least qualified person to talk about girls." You say with a chuckle.

"Touche." He smiled, then looked back at the road, letting the silence sit only for a few seconds. "But you're right, we've only spoken twice."

"So?" You raised a brow.

"Sooo." Matteo draws out. "We have about an hour to catch up."

You're genuinely confused as to why Matteo was being so personal all of a sudden. Usually, as in, in the last few weeks or so, you've had two separate, short conversations with the man. Once, when you accidentally came into his room instead of Luca's during one of your 'visits'. The other time, when both of you had quite a boring and awkward conversation about English meals in a lift. "On what grounds should we 'catch up'?"

"On the grounds that you're fucking my cousin Miss Shelby." The way Matteo said that was surprisingly casual. "And family is important to me."

"It's not like I'm married to him." You reply faster than you'd want to.

"He damn well acts like you are." He chuckles, and you feel yourself stiffen, looking at the Italian like he just told you the earth is flat. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"What do you mean by 'acts like I am'?" The question leaves your lips in an uncertain tone, almost shy.

"Never seen him so distracted by someone he's known for such a short time." He says with a shrug "Foolish if you ask me, but who am I to judge, at least he's happy."

He's happy??

"Uh, yeah." He throws you a pitiful smile, as if he could see how perplexed this information made you. "At least from what I can see."

Oh, of course, you said that out loud.

You quieted down, gaze resting on your lap. Now this was new information you had no idea how to process. You bit your lower lip in thought, unsure if the emotions you're feeling right now are uncertainty or... giddy, immature happiness.

You sit like that for a good few minutes before a small, sly smile graces your lips.

"Cousin, huh?" You ask, looking out the window, your good humour slowly creeping back in.

"I'm not telling you his secrets," Matteo says almost immediately as if he somehow knew that you were going to ask that.

"And I'm not asking you." You clarify. "But you probably have some nice stories."

"About what?"

"You knooooow..." You draw out, cocking your head to the side. "What was he like, back in the day?"

"Same as now, I guess. Only longer ago." It seemed like that was the end of your prying on Luca, but after a longer moment, Matteo mused more to himself than anyone else in the car. "More chipper in New York though..."

"Chipper? I'd like to see that."

"Oh yeah, and stupid."

"Now we're talking, tell me more." You lean forward in your seat, elbows resting on your thighs.

"No, I already told too much," Matteo says like he's telling his friends he's had enough drinks for the night. "He's going to skin me alive if he finds out I told you about this."

"Oh come oooooon. I won't tell." You shuffle your feet excitedly. Matteo looked forward, focusing on the road ahead, but after a moment of looking between the steering wheel and you, he let out a defeated sigh.

"...Back in New York, when we were just goons for Spinietta, Luca came up with a new con to scam people with, a really fucking stupid one..."

"And then, THEN it turned out the other guy was from London, and when he heard Luca speaking in a shitty Birmingham accent he-" He paused, but only to wheeze in laughter. "He beat the fucking shit out of him." Matteo finishes the story, on the verge of tears.

"No!" You gasped, though not hiding your laughter as well, leaning forward in your seat.

"Yes!" Matteo wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye, still trying to calm down his laughter. "Never seen Luca on his ass faster in my life, ti giuro. "

"Oh god. And I'm supposed to NOT tease him about it?" You say in amused disbelief. "When he's all 'Look at me, I'm mister smug and aloof, I've never gotten beaten up like a bitch before'." You put on your best impression of the Italian, even going to the lengths of putting a match between your lips and exaggerating your words with excessive hand gestures.

"Hey, we're all hiding behind something principessa." Despite Matteo defending his cousin, he still couldn't help but laugh along with you. After a moment, both of you calmed down, this time falling into a pleasant, comfortable silence before you spoke up again.

"What about you?" You turned to Matteo again.

"What do you mean?"

"You said you want to catch up." You lean against the leather seat, bringing your knees to your chin. "We've got an hour, you ever played two truths and a lie?"

It was a nice ride.

Everyone and their mother thinks the Small Heath home is haunted. Random objects flying off the wall at night, specific items appearing in places they weren't before, the occasional crooked painting.

Footsteps are definitely new.

The boys and Polly are dealing with business outside of town for once, while Ada just went out and should be here any minute. But that definitely isn't Ada.

Slow, almost wary footsteps cause the floorboards to creak on the ground floor. You're sitting next to the stairs, knees tucked to your chest and spare pistol in your hand.

Another step.

You press your ear to the floor, trying your hardest to pinpoint how many people were inside just by footsteps... Just one?

They appear to be coming closer, and you internally brace for confrontation with whoever broke into your home. As the intruder passes the corner you were hiding in, you stick out the gun and press it to the side of their head, making them immediately freeze in place.

Wait-

"Luca????" You blurt out in shock, your voice becoming at least a few octaves higher.

"Hey, you actually kept it," Luca says, sizing up the gun he gave you that's now pressed to his head. "Though I'd rather not die by it sweetheart, no offense."

"FUCKING hell Luca! You scared me half to death!” Your arms drop next to your hips. putting the gun on a table nearby.

“Relax, who would it be if not me?” Luca moves towards you, probably to say his hellos in the form of peppered kisses.

"Who would it be? What do you MEAN who would it be?!" You rub your eyes, not sure if out of frustration or as a way of trying to wake yourself up. “Police? IRA? My own bloody brothers?!” Somehow, this is exactly what you wanted. Luca being the one that sneaks through Small Heath and avoids the blinders, instead of it being always you. Though now, instead of it being a late-night fantasy of the charming man sneaking into your bed despite the dangers of doing so, it's a real-life nightmare of this idiot trying to get himself killed.

“Yeah well, it’s not them.” He shrugs, glancing around the house. “I’d like to see anyone try to stab you in the back in this house. I figure before I’ll get to them you’ll just kill them yourself.”

“Yes, I am quite amazing.” You muse to yourself before snapping back into reality. “Don’t think you can butter me up and I’ll drop it, what are you doing here?!"

“I’m seeing my doll.”

“Need I remind you you’re inside my idiot brothers’ territory?”

"Relax, we'll manage."

You two did not manage.

Who knew Luca Changretta had a talent for knocking down hanged pictures and stepping on the creakiest parts of the wooden floor.

“Shush for once in your life.” You hissed at Luca as you led him through the tight corridor, internally begging whatever made-up deity may be watching over you to please not let Arthur or Polly magically appear out of the corner.

“Please, it’s not like-” You can practically hear Luca roll his eyes, and despite you usually letting him release whatever condescending thoughts he had on the daily, you think you just heard a door open in the distance. You practically drag him the remaining meter to your room's door and push him inside, shutting it way too loudly.

As it turns out, the deity listened to you, but only to half of your half-assed prayer.

“Ada! Heyy!” You try to stay nonchalant as you lean against the door.

“...Hey?” Ada's pace slows down next to you, “What’s got you so pent up?”

“Pent up? Pshh.” You're really not good at this. “Well, I guess I’m just tired, I better get to bed.” Your thumb points back towards the door of your bedroom.

Ada stays put, looking at you puzzled and suspicious.

“Are you going?" She asks.

“Yes.” You blurt out. ”What about you?”

“Y/N, cut the crap. I heard something.” She looks at you for answers, but only when she looks at the door again it's almost as if a light turns on in her head. “Are you…Sneaking someone in?” She reached for the doorknob only to be stopped by you slapping it away.

“Ada no!” You shield the door with your whole body.

“Ow! Hey, come on, I’m not judging. God knows you deserve some fun once in a while.” She rubs her hand. “So who is he?” Your sister looks between you and the door excitedly, her voice now hushed, like all these years ago when the two of you spent hours under the covers giggling about the stupidest of things.

“Uhh, just-” You stammered, struggling to find the right words. or any words for that matter. “You don’t know him.”

“I trust he’s not afraid of Tommy since he followed you here.” She threw a wink your way. “Reminds me of Freddie and I back in the day.” A fond smile graces her face as she looks to the side.

“Oh he’s not, that’s for sure.” You laugh nervously, internally waiting for the sweet release of death. Ada seemed to notice.

“All right, I’ll get out of your hair.” She laughs at her sister, squeezing your cheek as she walks past you. “Don’t get her knocked up Romeo, then maybe I won't have to tell Tommy!” She calls, walking off down the corridor. Only after Ada completely vanished from your periphery you opened the bedroom door just a few inches and slid in. The door locked, checked three times, and you finally released a big sigh, hands sliding off the door to rest next to your hips.

You turn around to see a very out-of-place Luca. Almost everything about him clashed with your small childhood room, the humble interior looking somehow even cheaper next to him. After the company took off, the family never bothered to fancy up the place, instead, everyone went their separate ways into apartments and stylish homes. Yet somehow for you, no king-sized plush bed will ever replace the old, creaking twin you have right here in Small Heath, always ready for you with open arms.

Luca took his sweet time taking in the place. Picking up and then putting down every insignificant object, from small toys you never bothered to throw out or sell, to numerous books lying around the room. He spends the most time looking at an old, framed picture sitting atop your windowsill. Luca's thumb brushes off a heavy layer of dust from 10-year-old Y/N in her year 5 uniform, while the actual Y/N takes her place beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Adorable." Luca nudges you, a sly smile on his lips as he puts his other arm around your shoulders.

"Oh hush, I'm sure I can find a picture of little Luca if I sneak into your home." You stab a finger into his arm playfully, smiling fondly at the picture.

"Wishful thinking, doll. Wishful thinking..." Luca sets down the frame and focuses his attention on you. A kiss on your temple leads to his lips softly trailing down to your nose and meeting your lips. Now the stress of the whole damn ordeal seemed to start slipping away, and the sweet taste is there once again.

The sound of a door crashing on the far end of the hallway takes both of you out of your trance.

“So, that…was Ada.” You turn your head to try and hear any sounds of your sister leaving her room, but Luca doesn't seem to pay it any mind.

“She seems nice.” He hummed against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone, biting down gently.

“What are you doing Romeo?” You turn your head slightly to squint your eyes at him, a distrusting smile gracing your lips.

“Breaking my promise to your sister.” His sly drawl is muffled against your skin as both of you step by step head towards the bed.

“Did you want to come here only to sleep with me under Tommy’s nose?” You sit down on the bed, your brows furrowing.

“I always come firstly to you and because of you,” Luca emphasizes every word as he slowly gets on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. “But yeah, being here does come with its satisfaction. If only they’d see you now, cara.” His hands push up your dress, finding their way to your thighs, fingers getting busy with the garters holding up your stockings.

“Yeah, maybe cut it with the Italian. My sister could be listening in.” Luca only seems to respond in a musing hum. “You never know.”

“Should I put on my best Birmingham accent?” He looks up at you, his signature smartass grin more endearing than annoying.

“Not now. You’ll ruin the mood.” You murmur just mere inches from his lips, laying back into the old, creaky bed, Luca following put. “But definitely save it for later, I need to hear that."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x y/n #adventures of yinnin #luca changretta #matteo being the bro we need but dont deserve #shameless Ulysses plug #what a great book

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daechwitatamic · 26 days

Text

Vice;Grip || chapter 1 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose. A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out. Section Specific Warnings: casual drinking, piv sex, , nip stim, reader on top, drunkenness to the point of blacking out, vomiting due to overdrinking (mentioned very briefly), dirty talk, implied drug use / vernon is high, heavy themes in regards to mental health - allusions to unspecified mental illnesses in the realm of depressive and anxiety disorders

wc: 5800

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

Now

You’ve been used to seeing his face only in puzzle pieces, triangular fragments of glass beside a fallen picture frame. Mostly in flashes of light that are gone too quickly to process the whole picture - as the car he drives passes under a streetlight, as the flashing lights from a dj booth sweep over you before moving on, as the moon crosses over the gap on your window’s blinds that your cat broke two years ago and you never replaced.

Despite this, you know everything about it: how he keeps it carefully flat, but when it breaks it’s always to jump to extremes. How he laughs so hard his features distort and shatter, how his eyebrows nearly meet when he’s breaking and pressing fingers to his eyes, how his eyes squeeze shut when he mouths your name against your neck and presses his fingertips tighter against your skin before letting go. You have it all memorized. You know it by heart, even in the dark.

That was how you met - in the dark. You were dragged to a bar by your best friend Chan, determined to drink until you weren’t annoyed by the existence of everyone around you, until the music and lights seem to flow over and around you, like you’re experiencing them through a thick pane of glass.

He’d been invited, too. He and Chan had friends in common. You’d noticed him early in the night, sometime before things got foggy. Of course you did - even in the dim lighting you could see how good-looking he was, all sharp points and edges. You made note of how he stayed quiet, a tiny smile on an otherwise unchanging face, but his eyes had darted around, following the conversation sharply.

Sharp is your favorite word for him. It fits everything about him, top to toe, inside and out.

Sharp, sharp, sharp.

He looked how you feel inside, even now.

You’d gone back to his place, that night. You still remember him leaning back against the wall of the bar, arms crossed against his chest, mostly in shadow until a pink light passed over you both before leaving you in shadow again. As your eyes adjusted again, pieced his face back together in the dark, one of those eyebrows had lifted in question.

You were surprised at how clean his place was; he was surprised by how cluttered yours was, the next time you’d come together, maybe a week later.

This was almost two years ago; you’d both gotten used to each other since then.

It wasn’t a surprise, each time, when he gasped and then whined when he came, when his grip tightened like he had to make sure you stay put until his heartbeat starts to slow again. Not a surprise when he’d pull his ripped jeans back on less than ten minutes later. Not a surprise when he’d reach out to wiggle your foot through the blankets to make sure you were awake to hear him mutter, “See you,” on his way out. Nothing surprising about how you’d go four days without talking and then send him a wyd?, nor about how he’d come to pick you up, his car idling outside your building within the half hour.

You’d been doing things this way for ages. It was practically a routine. This was just what you two did, in the dark.

You weren’t sure what he did during the day. You and him, you only existed when the sun went down.

You didn’t know what he looked like in the golden hour, or at a restaurant table, or hurrying through a rainy afternoon. You didn’t mind; he belonged to you like this - only in the dark, only in pieces, only in too-quick flashes of light.

It was enough.

Or, you’d pretended it was, for as long as you could.

1 yr 11 months ago

The first few times were simple. You both knew what you were there for. You’d text, he’d come get you. You’d watch his hand on the gear shift as he drove you back to his place. You’d undress each other across his living room, a breadcrumb trail to follow back out when it was over. He’d order you a ride when it was done, you’d get home and shower, sinking into your own bed just as the light started to shift outside, warning everyone that dawn was imminent once again.

Or, conversely, he’d text instead of you. Or he’d drive to your place and stay, pressing you against your entryway wall before even closing the door behind him, threatening all your neighbors with a show. He’d slip out, after, leaving the smell of his cologne on your skin, on your sheets, even - somehow - in your kitchen, where you’d gone for water while he got dressed.

You both knew why you were there. You both knew what you needed out of it: just sex, just fun. You couldn’t even call it friends with benefits because you weren’t friends from dawn to dusk.

The just of it failed to last.

You know precisely the first time it was different, the first time you needed him. You needed the same things as always - his mouth hot on your skin, his hands alternating between sparks of pain and soothing caresses, the stretch of him emptying your mind and pushing every bad feeling out like there wasn’t room for them anymore. But for the first time, you didn’t want those things for enjoyment.

You wanted them as a salve.

Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.

You did ask him, in your own way. With your tongue, with your hands, with your hips. You didn’t know if he could tell that something was different, that you were using him to hide, that your urgency was because you wanted to feel something else. As you moved together under the fairy lights above your bed, the motions were the same as always.

It was after, that was different. Before he got dressed, he’d rolled to face you across the few inches of dark. His statue-like face wasn’t blank, now. Instead, his brows knit just slightly, his lips frowning on the hint of a pout.

“You okay?” he’d asked.

You’d looked back at him, goosebumps rising up and down your arms as your skin cooled. Should you lie? That was the best way to keep him at arm’s length, the best way to make sure this didn’t get too deep, the best way to ensure you didn’t scare him away.

But something made you tell the truth.

“A little better, now,” you admitted, quiet, your voice creeping through the dark like it was avoiding landmines as it tiptoed over your mattress.

He’d nodded, slipping back into the silence he wore best. Then he’d stayed just a few minutes, breathing quietly beside you, before getting up and sliding back into the routine. A few extra minutes of not being alone, like he knew you needed it even if you couldn’t ask for it.

In the silence he left behind, the truth had ballooned into the empty room: something had shifted. Now, on the nights when you hurt, when you weren’t sure you wanted to keep clawing your way through, you had another vice to pick from for distraction. More or less destructive than your other, older vices? You weren’t sure.

Almost two years later, you’re still not sure.

1 yr 10 months ago

The levels of separation were just enough that you didn’t cross paths at a lot of social events. But it was always a little thrilling when the circles did converge, when he appeared at the edge of the group, when the game became act normal in front of everybody.

You like games.

Vernon does, too.

The first time he showed up unexpectedly at the bar, your stomach swooped, and you hid a sneaky smile by tipping back your glass, draining the rest in one go and announcing that you needed a refill.

A game, knowing he’d watch you walk away. A game, knowing he’d have to look away again quickly, before anyone caught on. A game, pretending when you return to the group that you don’t remember his name. A game, knowing that at the end of the night, he’d come home with you and make sure you didn’t remember anything but.

You had too much to drink, too caught up in the fun, in the promise of later, in the thrill of feeling like you were harboring a secret like a precious plant, cupped in loose soil between your muddy fingers.

The alcohol made you lose track of your friends, of the time, of directional stability. You stumbled to the hallway you thought held the bathroom, one sweaty palm slapped against the wall to help you get there.

You’d only been sleeping with him for two months, but his hands on your waist were familiar. So was his mouth, near your ear, asking a familiar question - “You okay?”

“Should probably go home,” you muttered, still present enough to know you were a mess. That others could see your mess.

“Can you get yourself out front?” he asked, and there was something gentle in it. It made your stomach turn; or maybe that was the vodka. It made you want to run, to put distance between you, to remind him that you weren’t his to take care of. It made you want to hiss and spit to remind him that you’re an outdoor cat.

“Why?” you asked, turning in place to face him, something hard riding up in your chest.

He shrugged one shoulder, like it didn’t matter to him if you listened or not. “If you go out now, I’ll order a ride. Then I’ll head out in a few, when the car is here. It’ll look like you left already when I go.”

You narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re being awfully strategic.”

He lifted that eyebrow again. “You want Chan to know we’re fucking?”

The word sizzled through you like an electric shock. But you took a breath and considered the question. “No,” you answered, once you muddled through your soupy brain enough to find the word. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” he said, as if that settled that. “I’ll order the ride. Your place okay?”

“Mhm,” you said, distracted, suddenly aware of your lack of equilibrium, nausea making its presence known. You might not have told him goodbye before pushing your way back into the crowded dance floor, weaving around people and squeezing through impossibly tight spaces until you find Chan again.

“My uber’s out front,” you said in greeting.

“What?” he cried, looking betrayed. “It’s not even one-thirty!”

“If I stay,” you told him seriously, “I will hurl. Talk tomorrow?”

He pouted a little but nodded, waving goodbye as you turned and struggled towards the front door.

Stepping from the loud, crowded bar into the quiet street was almost dizzying in itself; you struggled to adjust as you took a few steps away from the door. The lit-up signs from the nearby businesses swam around the edge of your vision, and you swallowed down a fresh wave of nausea.

It seemed like only seconds later, though it must have been at least five minutes, when the car pulled up and Vernon appeared from out of nowhere to usher you into the backseat.

You don’t remember the ride home. You don’t remember Vernon supporting you by your elbows to keep you from toppling sideways (or backwards) down the stairs. You don’t remember dropping your keys so many times that he’d taken them from you, let you both into the apartment. You don’t remember him helping you remove your heels, or placing a glass of water by your bed.

You do remember waking up somewhere in the bright hours of early morning, still in your tight dress, head pounding and stomach rolling.

Your apartment was empty; you hadn’t expected him to stay, but you’d checked the couch anyway, just to be sure. You drank the whole glass of water, sat on the floor of the shower and let the hot water punish you for your bad decisions, and then crawled back to bed. You texted Vernon - the first time either of you had texted while the sun was up - and apologized, thanked him for getting you home.

You expected an answer as reserved as he normally plays things. You were surprised when, instead, he sent you back, “i think i’d be good at rodeo”, followed quickly by, “rodeoing???”

Frowning, you sent back a line of question marks.

His answer made you laugh through a groan, pressing your face into your pillows in embarrassment - “corralling you was NOT easy… but i did it 🤠”.

Face flushed with embarrassment, you sent another apology.

You sank into quiet after that, unsure if you’d messed things up, made it too real, became a thing of responsibility instead of a thing of attraction. But he’d texted you the next weekend, those three little letters sending relief through your system: wyd?

“Not drinking,” you said, and he wasted no time in sending back, “want to not drink at mine?”

1 yr 9 months ago

come over?

you come here?? ill order ur ride

ok 👍

“You seem weird.”

Vernon kept his expression even, though hearing the words made him want to grimace at being called out so immediately. He’d been spiraling for at least an hour; had at one point gotten so worked up that he’d slammed his laptop on the desk, causing it to show a shuddering blue screen before restarting on him.

If it hadn’t stumbled back to life, he honestly thought he would cry over it.

He might anyway. Fucking shit.

“I’m a weird guy,” he deadpanned instead.

“Weirder than normal,” you volleyed. “Everything okay?”

Vernon sent a dark look over his shoulder, where the textbook he’d been burying himself in still sat open on the page he’d been on when your text had rolled through.

But you weren’t here to help him study. You weren’t here to listen to him complain that he’d failed his last test, that his scholarship rode on this next one. You weren’t here to help him make flashcards, or even to rub his shoulders while he hunched over the textbook.

You were here so he could forget, for just a little while, that he was stressed in the first place. You were here to help him feel something besides the knots in his stomach, so he could hear a voice echoing in his head that wasn’t his own calling him stupid, stupid, stupid. You were here to melt the edges of his anxiety, the way he could have with a shot or a pill, if he were in a different mood.

He replaced the textbook on the flat surface of his desk with your bare ass, leaning over you to brace an arm next to his sleeping laptop. He let your soft cries take up space in his mind, crowding out his internal admonitions, his mind’s noisy cycling through the list of things he should be doing instead. His stomach muscles clenched because your fingertips trailed over them, not because he was imagining having to tell his parents he’d lost his scholarship. He groaned, long and guttural, because you felt like heaven clenching around him, hot and silky and perfect, not because he’d read the same paragraph three times and retained none of it. His fingers found the back of your neck and gripped you hard, holding you in place as his hips snapped into yours, instead of gripping the pen that refused to write answers that made any sense.

It worked; it helped. It was the first time in days that Vernon felt okay. He wished he could last forever - just so that he didn’t have to go back to reality, to life outside of this.

“Car’s on its way,” he told you, after you were cleaned up and dressed again.

You looked up at him from where you were perched on his desk, the same spot where he’d been drilling you only ten minutes ago.

“Thanks,” you said, then looked down at the textbook in your hand. You’d picked it up absently, but now you turned it over, reading the cover.

“This looks hard,” you observed. “Is this why you’re all…” You trailed off and made a face to indicate that Vernon was the human equivalent of a keysmash. You even mimed the keysmashing, in the air in front of you, with both hands.

The smile he gave you was probably sheepish. “Yeah. Test tomorrow. Flunked the last one.”

And he wasn’t sure why he was telling you, but you nodded slowly, eyes still on the cover of the book.

“Sucks,” you said sympathetically, and that was that. You didn’t make it a thing. You gave him a quick smile as you closed his door, and then you were gone.

Vernon took a shower, dissociated in the warm water until it ran cold. Then he heated up some instant noodles, and set everything back up on his desk to try again.

Maybe he should make fucking flashcards.

He was still at it around two in the morning, literally holding his eyelids up to stay awake, when his phone rattled on his keyboard.

good luck tmrw. hwaiting.

1 yr 8 months ago

“Go talk to him!”

“Chan, from the bottom of my heart, fuck off.”

Your best friend pouted at you over the top of his beer. “You haven’t dated in forever.”

You hadn’t needed to. You didn’t want domesticity, nor partnership. And the parts that were left, Vernon had been handling just fine.

But Chan didn’t know that.

“I don’t want to,” you snapped. “I don’t want to talk to that guy, and I don’t want to date someone. I want to drink with my idiot friend Chan. Is that a problem?”

His pout deepened. “No,” he sulked. “But I’m worried about you, noona.”

“Well, don’t be,” you said, softening. “I’m fine. I’m just not after… all that.”

Still looking a little bit like a kicked dog, Chan glanced down at his beer and then back up at you, timid. “Have you been… working on anything lately?”

You wanted to crawl out of your skin. You wanted to evaporate, slip towards the ceiling in tiny droplets of not-matter, vanish as you got too close to the sun.

“Nope,” you said, forcing a breezy tone.

His eyes on you were too knowing. Your clothes all itched, suddenly. “Nothing, since -?”

“Chan,” you said, not even trying to hide the desperation on your face, in your voice, in the way your hands reach out for his. “Please, can we not do the intervention thing right now? I really, really cannot.”

He went quiet. “Fine,” he said finally, and the timid-younger-brother thing was gone, replaced with something almost angry. Frustrated, at least. “Fine. You need a refill?” He downed the last of his beer and reached for your glass.

“No,” you said, pulling it further from his reach. “I need shots. Let’s go.”

The burn in your throat helped you move on, move away from the uncomfortable moment. You relished the slight sting, closed your eyes as you felt the heat make its way to your stomach. Kept them closed, felt everything tight inside you loosen by degrees, until you could breathe again.

You danced, you drank more. You did tequila shots, licking salt off the back of some girl’s hand, both of you giggling even though you never saw her before in your life and probably wouldn’t again once the shots were done.

At some point, you stilled, realizing you hadn’t seen Chan in a while. You rested your elbows against the bar for balance and pulled out your phone.

where are you? you sent.

His answer confused you. told you goodbye almost two hours ago, you fucking mess.

Then, another, do I need to come back and get you?

Shame engulfed you. You were a mess, always a mess. A fuck-up, a drop-out, a waste of potential. The idea of him having to come take care of you, come back to get you and babysit you, made you want to crawl under the sticky floorboards.

no, you sent back. i’m leaving now.

But the shame hovered over your shoulder. Its breath coated your neck in humid huffs, its claws pressed into the flesh of your arms hard enough to leave little crescents, its tail curled around your leg to hold you in place.

You ordered another shot.

The room was dark, and smelled stale, like a window hadn’t been opened in months.

The room was not the bar.

Your body flooded with adrenaline so fast that you had to close your eyes and force an inhale.

You didn’t remember leaving the bar. You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t know how you got here.

The shame was back, tail heavy over your abdomen, but the spikes of fear were worse. You felt around the darkness until you could find your phone. You used its light to look around - you seemed to be alone on someone’s couch. Hand shaking, it took you three tries to open your maps app. You couldn’t get the screen to focus, couldn’t read to see what neighborhood you were in.

The screen swam before you and you clicked it off, closing your eyes and trying to breathe, trying not to cry.

Who could you call?

Not Chan, the shame whispered to you, lifting its head from slumber and opening its beady eyes, yellow across the dark room.

You didn’t have many other choices. You'd found that a symptom of isolation is that fewer people stick around, waiting for you to come out of it, to be normal again. You'd known this, logically, for years. You still couldn't help it when the urge to hunker down and speak to no one but Chan and your mom took over; you couldn't help when your stupid, broken brain told you that you were bothering everyone but to believe it. Don’t call Chan. You closed one eye and turned your screen on again, determined to make it make sense.

It was almost three in the morning.

You knew one person who might still be up.

Vernon’s hello sounded awake, and that’s what made you crack, tears starting to slide down your cheeks without permission.

“I don’t know where I am,” you admitted. The shame gave a hearty huff and lowered its head again. “I can’t - I can’t get a car because - I can’t see the - the buttons aren’t working -”

“Put me on speaker,” he said calmly, and you clung to his voice like the rung of a pool ladder. You didn’t need to climb up, you just needed to hold on.

“Okay,” you said, when you’d managed it.

“Go to your messages,” he said next, and walked you through each step until you’d managed to drop him your location.

“Thank you,” you’d said, tears dry. Everything dry. Even the shame seemed a bit opaque, the numbness strong enough to push away even this least desirable companion as it came creeping in. “Thank you, I’m sorry, I -”

“Stay on the phone with me,” he instructed.

“Vernon, no,” you protested. “You should go to sleep.”

“Wasn’t sleeping anyway,” he said flatly, and there was no room to argue.

You stayed on the line in silence as you hunted around for your shoes, or a coat. You found neither, though somehow your purse was still strapped to you. You did manage to find a front door. You exited the house, closing the door quietly behind you. You still didn’t know whose fucking house it was.

You threw up next to the mailbox. You collapsed into the grass, wet with morning dew under your back. You shivered, coatless and barefoot. Your phone was somewhere in the yard behind you, the call still connected.

Above you, the shame swam between the stars, twisting and undulating amongst the constellations until it made you so dizzy that you rolled over to throw up again.

When you saw headlights, you pushed yourself to sit, trying to breathe. The driver wouldn’t let you in the car if they thought you might be a puke risk. You looked around the ground near where you were sitting, trying to find your phone, realizing belatedly that you were still on the call with Vernon.

“Sorry,” you said, bringing it to your ear again. “I dropped my phone in the yard. The car's here.”

“I know,” he said simply, which didn't make sense, but you were too gone to figure it out.

“I'm gonna hang up now,” you said quietly. “Thank you for helping me.”

He made a noncommittal noise and you ended the call as the car coasted to a stop. You started to rise, to make your way unsteadily to the back door. Instead, the driver’s door opened.

“Vernon,” you complained, horrified that he'd come out at three in the morning to get you. He was supposed to be home, in bed, while a stranger drove you home - a stranger who you paid in money, owed no emotional labor for this effort. A stranger who could see you like this - a wreck, makeup smudged, confused, lost in multiple ways - and never see you again.

Vernon looked you over, then shook his head. He walked around his car and opened the passenger door, looking at you silently, waiting.

Finally, you stalked over.

“Why are you out here with no shoes on?” he asked, voice lower than normal.

“Lost them,” you muttered, dropping into the passenger seat. Your stomach swam again, but it seemed to be empty enough now that all you got was the suffering.

He drove you in silence for a little. Then, at a red light, looked over at you, that expression as blank as ever.

You were starting to learn his tells, though. His fingers tapped on the gear between you.

You’d made him anxious.

“What happened?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Blacked out,” you said, looking at your knees. “Didn’t mean to. I think some girls invited me along to their place? And then I must have passed out.” The tequila shot girl’s face swam in your mind - this seemed correct.

“Girls?”

You looked at him, surprised. Pieces clicked together.

“You think I called you to get me from a hook-up’s house?” you asked, defensive. “I’m a disaster, but I’m not a bitch.”

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t say that.”

You were both quiet a little longer.

“I’m not… I don’t…” You weren’t sure how to say it. “I know you didn’t ask me not to - and I’m not asking anything from you - but - I don’t…”

“Okay,” he said, stopping your ramble. You looked at him, relieved, so glad he understood. That you didn’t have to say it. “Cool.”

Cool.

If you could without throwing up again, you’d shake your head. He was just so… Vernon.

You were hungover for two days; you even called out of work for one of them. When the headache finally subsided, you told the cat you were never drinking again.

The cat jumped off the bed and trotted away; it might as well have called you a liar.

When the weekend rolled around, you didn’t text Vernon. The shame lay its heavy, clawed foot on top of your phone, leveled you with an even look that said don’t even think about it.

How could you face him again, anyway? Why would he want to see you, after he’d seen the truth so clearly - that you were messy, a mistake, more trouble than any situationship was worth?

Friday night came and went in silence. You were right - he wanted out. You didn’t blame him at all.

Then, Saturday night, a text came through.

you coherent? 😏

You laughed, rolled your eyes, sent back, unfortunately. can we change that?

want to try a different poison tonight?

is that supposed to be flirty?

if you need me to do the hard sell, my offer won’t end you up at a strangers house at 3am

that’s a solid argument

i’ll come get you. need some time?

yeah, gimme 30 min?

cool.

You snorted again. Cool. He was such a dork.

“Thanks for getting me,” you said, when you slid into his passenger seat.

“Can’t let you entertain yourself,” he said, ticking his head to the side like he’d learned his lesson. “You end up without shoes.”

The callback to last weekend made your face heat, and you expected him to lecture you - to tell you to be more careful, that you shouldn’t put yourself in situations like that, that your liver will quit someday.

He didn’t - didn’t bring up anything that happened until -

“Only need me, huh?” he asked, later, pressing so deep into you that you squirm away, delighted when he pulls you back roughly, puts you right back where you’d both rather you be. “No one else does it this good, right?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, half-laughing. “God.” Then he shifted his angle and you repeated yourself, a broken record, god god god, for a whole new reason.

1 yr 7 months ago

Everything was slow and heavy. Vernon’s eyelids lowered and then slid open again, slow… slow. Air army-crawled on elbows and knees into his lungs, slipped out too easily. His blood in his veins trudged; his heartbeat couldn’t whip it into going faster. The ceiling fan above him circled, chasing its tail in an endless loop.

come over.

It must have taken him two hours to type the text. Two hours for it to fly through space - is that how texts send? through space? - to your phone. Two hours for you to get there, to let yourself into his unlocked apartment.

“Took you forever,” he muttered, still watching the ceiling fan.

He was a little out of it, a little bit on another plane. Your hands were cool against his cheeks, thumbs cool as they traced his jawline. For a minute, they felt like the only thing tethering him to earth, keeping him in this room, in this apartment.

“You in there?” Your voice came from far away.

“Yeah.”

He opened his eyes again, and found you hovering above him, light streaming from behind you.

You didn’t mention his red eyes, didn’t tease him for the way his words came out one phoneme at a time. You just pulled your shirt over your head - he may have groaned when the fabric passed your tits, fuck you for showing up without a bra on - and then reached for his hem. Then you lay tight up against him, one hand absently stroking over his chest.

You let him make every first move, let him decide when he’s in his own body again. He kissed you slow, licked into your mouth like it was viscous, marveled in how your skin felt when his hands skated over your back.

It must have been two hours that he kissed you, only that, before finally tugging you to straddle him.

He’d been fucked up when he texted you, but he was feeling clearer now. Clear enough to peel your leggings over your ass, to lift his hips when you tugged on his sweatpants. Clear enough to let out a breath that shuddered embarrassingly when you positioned him at your entrance and sank to the hilt, stilling and tilting to look him in the eyes.

Sometimes Vernon thinks about Giles Corey. He shouldn’t even know about this random piece of American history; he definitely didn’t learn it in school. But sometimes Vernon would procrastinate real work by going to random Wiki articles, and sometimes what he read would stick.

He remembered this one. During the early Salem witch trials, Giles Corey was tried as a witch, but not hung. Instead, he’d been pressed to death - the stones added one by one to the board over his chest. He was supposed to confess.

He’d died that way, had been literally crushed to death, one stone at a time.

His last words had been more weight.

That’s how Vernon felt, most days. One stone at a time, pressing on his ribcage. It was never enough to crush him, just enough to make him feel like he couldn’t take a breath, enough to make him feel like his bones might crack and cave and it’s scary - but they never did. Or, they hadn’t yet.

Every day, Vernon woke up, spit at the feet of whatever church was awaiting his confession, and demanded, more weight.

But the stones had felt heavier, today. Some days were like that. Some days felt like hardly any at all. He tried to remember that - the lighter days would come.

He didn’t feel them at all, now. The only weight on his chest was your hands as you leaned your body forward for leverage, riding him at the pace he set with his hands on your hips, guiding you up and back - slow, slow.

“Fuck,” you groaned, eyes squeezing shut and then opening again, blinking quickly. “It’s too - god, I can feel everything - I don’t know if I can - it’s too -”

“I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured, reaching up to pull you closer, to bring you chest to chest.

“I need you to move,” you whimpered, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Please, I need you to go faster.”

Vernon swore fiercely as his body obeyed without his permission, feet flattening against his mattress and arms crossing over your back to hold you in place against him. You both gasped, equally shocked at the sudden change.

“More,” you begged. “Please, Vernon.”

More weight, he thought, and then he wasn’t thinking anything because you were wailing, fingers twisting in the sheets next to his shoulders, pulsing around him in dizzying, soul-sucking waves.

Sometimes Vernon thinks being alone will be the stone that kills him.

He almost asked you to stay, after, just to keep it at bay. Almost.

He thought that you might be his new favorite vice.

1 yr, 6 months ago

wyd tonight?

uhhh awkward. i’m. on a date?

why awkward? you’re allowed.

thanks for the permission.

i’m generous, what can i say

dont worry though its nothing. we got set up. its… not going great lol

i understand. hes got tough competition.

Please. 🙄

have fun

im not going home with him. i promise.

prove it.

how?

come here after.

ykw?? i think i will. Next ->

my first svt fic ever!!! thank you so much for being here! i hope you continue to enjoy!

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 30 days

Note

AITA for lying to my friends and causing someone to end their life?

🫐☎️🧼

So I can find this later

Trigger warning for suicide.

In this situation I'm aware I fucked up badly multiple times, but I want to know for sure whether I was in the wrong. I went through the FAQ to check that this submission is okay and sorry if there's something disqualifying it I didn catch!

I (minor) was active in an online group where I made some online friends. The group was for preteens, teens, and very young adults (13-21.) I befriended one person, Blueberry (fake name, because emoji) and we became close over a few months. At one point they admitted they had a crush on me I didn't feel the same, but we agreed to stay friends and it didn't affect the friendship.

One thing about this group is that it was aimed at mental health. Me and this person had similar problems with depression and suicidal thoughts (both actively suicidal) and often talked when one of us was in a dark place. When Blueberry turned 18 things took a turn for the worst. Multiple times a week they had panic attacks (they were in the process of getting diagnosed with OCD and bad intrusive thoughts) or crisis and attempted several times. I got overwhelmed. Instead of establishing a boundary like I should have, I started ghosting them for a few hours if it got too bad. It got to the point I'd log on once or twice a day to check in, but instead of ever chatting, the conversation always ended in their next plan to kill themselves. This one was my fault, as we'd had casual convos about this stuff in the main group. I and others did what we could to help, like providing support and helplines. Blueberry did contact many and it saved them lots.

By this point Blueberry had done lots of other risky stuff. They lashed out and blocked a lot of mutual friends, made a fake account to pretend to be a young teen at one point (but deleted it when I asked), and other things. I didn't want to lose them as a friend so I covered for Blueberry when it was exposed. I should point out Blueberry was never mean to me they were really nice. They liked to learn about my interests and complimented me and others lots and I tried to do the same (learn about what they liked, tell them I was happy to hear from them, etx)

Obviously people of the group felt betrayed when they found out Blueberry was catfishing them as this younger teen. In Blueberry's own words, I was "the only one they could trust." Blueberry admitted again that they wanted to be more than friends, but since they were now 18 and I was still a few years younger than them I asked to just be friends because the age gap was uncomfy. They were okay with it. The next day, Blueberry said goodbye to me and deleted their account. I was really upset by this and we talked one last time where I wished them well and said how much I'd miss them but didn't think something was seriously wrong because Blueberry and me had discussed them leaving the group before because it was hurting their mental health.

Later a friend of both Blueberry and me reached out about their behavior the days before they left and some conversations I hadn't seen. All of us are pretty sure they didn't just delete their account—they killed themself. The goodbye message proved this. I was upset and angry that they were dead, said sorry to the group for lying to them about Blueberry catfishing, and left the group.

I think I may be the asshole here because I was really selfish here in not wanting to address Blueberry's really creepy catfishing (pretending to be a young teen, which knowing that they had romantic feelings for me could have led to them befriending people lots younger than them which is bad) because I didn't want to lose the friendship, and also because if I hadn't ghosted Blueberry using mental health as an excuse I don't think they would have killed themselves. If I am the asshole here, what could I do better next time if I have a similar problem again?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 10 months

Text

Comet Donati [Chapter 7: Heart Attack]

A/N: Hello all! Only 3 chapters left!!! 🥰 Thank you so much for loving this fic and giving all my eccentric AU ideas a chance. I’m currently in Washington DC visiting one of my best friends, so if I’m a little bit tardy replying to your comments/messages then that’s why. Don’t fear!! I will check in as soon as I can, and I am still amazed by and will forever cherish your support. 💜

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (+18), drugs, alcohol, smoking, Shelby being a bigger plague than the locusts of Egypt, mental health struggles, references to violence and abuse, New Jersey, pregnancy, mini golf, lots of content for the Cregan girlies.

Selected Chapter Quote: “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @doingfondue @catalina-howard @randomdragonfires @myspotofcraziness @arcielee @fan-goddess @talesofoldandnew @marvelescvpe @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mariahossain @chainsawsangel @darkenchantress @not-a-glad-gladiator @gemini-mama @trifoliumviridi @herfantasyworldd @babyblue711 @namelesslosers @thelittleswanao3 @daenysx @moonlightfoxx @libroparaiso @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @mizfortuna @florent1s @heimtathurs @bhanclegane @poohxlove @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @heavenly1927 @mariahossain @echos-muses @padfooteyes @minttea07 @queenofshinigamis @juliavilu1 @amiraisgoingthruit @lauraneedstochill @wintrr13 @r0segard3n @seabasscevans @tsujifreya

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

You type into Google as you hide in the public bathroom stall, pink tile walls and mint green porcelain, very 1950s, phantom drips of water and humming florescent lights: Can Plan B make your period late?

You scroll through the results, clutching your iPhone with both hands. Faintly, you can hear the rest of the band outside, chattering, laughing, slurping on Slush Puppies, smacking trees and rocks with their golf clubs. Yes, the consensus seems to be; Plan B can delay your period. Incidentally, so can pregnancy.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You peer down at your panties, as if you can force bloodstains to appear: sparce rosy threads of warning, dark red splotches like rust, you aren’t particular. You’ll take anything. “Fuck,” you say again, defeated. You get dressed, wash your hands, and head back out into the cloudless afternoon sunshine.

“Stargirl, it’s your turn!” Aegon shouts as you trot over to them: tenth hole, shaped like an L, featuring an intimidating loop de loop. The course is dinosaur themed; Rhaena picked it. Aegon points to Jace. “This deformed bastard wanted to skip you.”

“I told you,” Jace moans. His speech is garbled and lisping, his face comically swollen, bruised yellow-emerald-indigo and drooling blood, stitches above his left eyebrow. He just had his dental implants placed yesterday; the four teeth that he lost at Club Camelot could not be readily located for reattachment. “I can’t keep track of who’s next. I’m on like four different opiates.”

Baela frets over him. “Shh, shh, baby. Try not to talk.” There’s something about watching someone get almost-murdered that makes you want to forgive them, you suppose.

You grab your club and golf ball, dark blue, from where you left them by a tree. Rhaena gives you a covert little thumbs up and raised eyebrows. Everything good? You smile—too widely, insincere, a liar—and nod. Technically, you have yet to obtain concrete evidence to the contrary.

You take your turn, somewhat awkwardly due to the splint that still encumbers your dominant hand. You are thinking about anything but mini golf. Your ball goes halfway through the loop de loop and then comes rolling back. How many strokes? Four, five, you lose count, it doesn’t matter. Aegon is snickering, though not in a mean way, never in a mean way. Aemond is watching you. He does this constantly; you can feel his eyes—river water, otherworldly atmosphere—on you all the time, you can see him on the periphery of your vision. But when you glance at Aemond, he looks away. You’re wearing flip flops, a black NSYNC t-shirt, and bright pink shorts that Baela insists are of the very short variety. Aemond is staring a little extra hard today. Shelby alternates between glaring at him and at you.

Jace putts next. He misses the ball twice. On the third try, he hits it into a nearby pond. Golden koi fish scatter beneath the rippling sheen of the water.

“Loser,” Aegon declares mildly. “Criston, why the fuck are we in New Jersey?”

“Because you’re playing three shows at the MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford,” Criston says as he putts; his green golf ball sails through the loop de loop, bounces off a wall, and then rolls straight into the cup, a hole in one. “One Direction did it, Taylor Swift did it, and now you’re going to do it too. And if you don’t make it too unbearable for me, I’ll even take you to the beach while we’re here. Okay?”

“Okay,” Aegon agrees. He slurps on his Slush Puppie. “Oh, Aemond, I need the Netflix password.”

“You forgot it again?!” Daeron says. Jace, groaning softly, lies down on the ground in a patch of shade. Baela gets a bottle of Orajel rinse out of her purse and starts pouring it into his mouth.

“Get your own account,” Aemond snaps at Aegon. “I think you can afford it.”

“Bruh, that’s not the point! I don’t know where I left off in Grey’s Anatomy!”

They keep bickering. You stop listening. You can only hear the sounds of rustling leaves, squawking seagulls, the whistling of the warm August wind. You can only feel the weight of Aemond’s half-fascinated, half-resentful gaze on you. He wouldn’t believe me, you think. If I really am pregnant, he would never believe that it was an accident. He would never believe that I was that guilelessly, unambitiously stupid. Hell, I did it and I barely believe it.

You steal a glimpse of Aemond—black shirt and black sunglasses, white shorts, Adidas sneakers—and he turns away, pretending to pick dirt off his golf ball. Interestingly, he will talk to you about things not related to that night in Tokyo; perhaps it would be too suspicious not to, a neon sign for the rest of the band to read. But he never allows himself to be alone with you. And he never touches you, not even a grazing of hands or an absentminded bump as he passes you in aisles or hallways.

Bump, you think miserably. An inauspicious choice of words.

“We should watch Se7en,” Aegon is saying now. “Comet fam movie night.”

You mutter: “We’re not watching Se7en.”

“What’s Se7en about?” Rhaena asks.

“You wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s in the box?!” Aegon shouts dramatically—quoting the beautiful yet doomed David Mills, a name he once borrowed to schedule a Zoom meeting with you—and then cackles. It’s his turn. He clobbers his golf ball and sends it flying through the loop de loop; it pops over the barrier and disappears into a bush. Startled squirrels dart out of the leaves.

“Loser!” Jace slurs as he lies sprawled across the ground, vindicated.

“Stop spitting blood everywhere,” Aemond says. He putts next, and badly: poor depth perception. “You’re getting it on my sneakers.”

“Watch it, cyclops.” Jace points to his own stitches, bruises, surgically replaced teeth. “I let you have this one. Now we’re even. But next time I won’t be so charitable.”

“You’re not even,” Aegon tells Jace, abruptly severe. He whips off his aviator sunglasses, crouches over Jace, glaring and thunderous like a storm. Baela observes this warily. “Not even close.”

Jace is intrigued. “No?”

“No. Your face will heal.” Then Aegon pokes him in the jaw and Jace screams, tears slithering down his puffy, mottled cheeks. Cregan yanks Aegon away before Baela can scratch his eyes out. Criston repossesses Aegon’s blue raspberry Slush Puppie as punishment. Luke wins the game, five under par.

Comet’s first shows in the United States this tour start just like the last few in Asia: Jace is iced, painted with concealer, thoroughly medicated, numbed into semi-consciousness. He does lines of coke in the bathroom under Cregan’s supervision. He can’t perform without it. Criston tried to negotiate a month off for Jace, but the label’s message was clear: get him on stage, we don’t care how you do it, we don’t want to know about it, here’s a blank check, figure it out or we’ll find another manager who can. Now Criston watches Jace with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes wounded and anxious, his shoulders slumped beneath the weight of what he believes is failure.

The story released to the press is that Jace fell down a flight of stairs but is recovering smoothly. He can barely sing; his mic is turned up, and during Jace’s verses Cregan or Luke layer their voice with his. He wobbles and flubs his way through Night 1 in East Rutherford. You spend the show staring up at the stage without seeing it. Baela and Rhaena are with you, but you aren’t really with them; you feel like if they reached out to touch you, their hands would find only translucent emptiness like a mirage. Shelby is flocked by fellow influencers that she’s invited in from New York City. Aemond is somewhere, somewhere: lurking in shadows, brooding, avoiding, musing, suffering, jotting down starlight-colored judgments in his black-paged notebook.

Per tradition, the band and their entourage coalesce in Jace’s suite after the show. Jace himself, the gracious host, promptly collapses on a couch and lies there senseless as the party spins around him like the planets of a solar system. Baela is perched dutifully beside him, holding ice packs to his jaw, wiping away drool the color of one of Aemond’s Brambles. A tattoo artist is inking a goldfinch, New Jersey’s state bird, to the top of Jace’s right foot. Criston is across the room and speaking—rather tensely, it seems—with cigar-smoking label executives. Shelby is snapping photos with her friends; they take turns posing each other out on the balcony, adjusting elbows and wrists and knees, swiping away stray flecks of mascara, rearranging hair, recommending plastic surgeons. Aegon is typing WhatsApp messages—mostly emojis, from what you can see—to Miley Cyrus. At Luke’s prompting, Aemond begins sharing his comments to the presently sentient members of Comet. He puffs on one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes as he reads aloud. He kindly skips over any criticisms of Jace’s performance.

You can’t stand hearing Aemond’s voice; not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because there isn’t, because you can’t stop remembering what he said to you in that florescent-white bathroom at Club Camelot in Tokyo, because he uses his words on so many people who aren’t you, because sooner or later your time with Comet will be over and you’ll only ever hear him again through Spotify songs and YouTube clips from before the accident, because he will one day be a ghost who haunts you, rattling doorknobs and chilling pockets of air but never speaking. You escape to ask the bartender: “Can I get a Coke?”

“A rum and Coke?”

“No.”

“Like…white powder coke?”

“No, a Coca-Cola. With nothing else in it.”

“Okay, whatever,” the bartender says, perplexed. He fills a glass with ice and dark liquid that pops and fizzes with carbonation, then slides it across the counter to you. You meander out into the hallway where you can be alone, where you don’t have to pretend to be okay.

The carpet is gold but frayed, the walls adorned with faux marble columns and scuffs from recklessly handled suitcases. Even the hotels are worse in New Jersey. You sip your soda—nonalcoholic, huh? you think, then push it aside—and roam past suite doors and vending machines until you reach the cove of elevators. There’s a full-length mirror hanging on the wall there, gilded, gaudy. You frown at yourself, a reflection that suddenly looks a bit like a stranger. You’re wearing a short seafoam green dress, gold earrings and sandals, and an eerily vacuous expression. You turn and move your hair aside so you can peer over your shoulder at what’s been indelibly penned there since Rome: the tiny comet, the lyrics that encircle it.

I wanted to remember this band forever. To remember Aemond. You can feel your stomach drop as it grows heavy with dread. The pulsing music from Jace’s suite has followed you down the hall, Sugar by Robin Schulz and Francesco Yates. I think I might just have more than a tattoo to remember him by after all.

One of the elevators dings and opens. A man lumbers out, towering, broad, monstrous. You gape up at him: brown threadbare coat, heavy boots, unruly dark beard, grey eyes like a bleak winter sky. There is a miasma that colors the air around him with smoke and alcohol, sweat and earth.

“Hello there,” he says, politely enough. His voice is such a baritone rumble that it’s difficult to understand. He has a British accent, but not like Aegon’s, not like Aemond’s. He reminds you of someone you can’t quite place. “I’m looking for a certain young gentleman. I’m hoping you can point me in his direction.”

“Sure,” you reply, trying to disguise your shock so you don’t offend him. He could be someone important. He could be an eccentric producer or a consultant. Or a drug dealer. “Who…uh…who was it you were hoping to speak with…?”

He smiles: sharp canine teeth yellowed by nicotine, glinting eyes like silver coins. “Cregan Stark.”

“Okay,” you stammer. Drug dealer?? “Okay, okay, I’ll…uh…I’ll go get him.”

You hurry down the hall and into Jace’s crowded, smokey suite, clinking glasses and flirtatious titters in dim lighting like late twilight. You return your empty drink to the bartender, then tap Cregan on the shoulder and inform him that someone out in the hallway is asking for him. He doesn’t seem surprised to hear this. Drug dealer, you think confidently. Cregan gulps his vodka shot and follows you out of the suite. He steps through the doorway. He turns towards the stranger. And then he stops dead. His eyes go wide. The blood drains from his face. And Cregan—immovable, inscrutable, unflappable Cregan—shrinks until he is a child again.

Immediately, you know you’ve made a mistake. You reach for him. “Cregan, wait—”

“My son,” the monstrous man sighs. And of course now you’ve realized exactly who the mirrorlike grey of his eyes reminded you of. “My son.”

You can’t stop him. How could you stop him? Faster than you can think, he has crossed the space between you and entombed Cregan in a stifling embrace. Cregan stands paralyzed, his eyes shifting, searching for escape. Tentatively, appeasingly, his hands slowly rise to hug the man in return.

“Criston?!” you shout. But within the suite, he cannot hear you over the music and the berating of smoke-veiled, bejeweled label executives.

“Did you forget about me, huh?” the man asks Cregan gruffly. And as he steps back he grips one of Cregan’s shoulders: not like Criston would, not like a father, like a vice, like a bear trap. He shakes Cregan once, not too hard. “You can fly your private jet all over the world but you can’t call your own father back? Huh? Huh?!” He shakes Cregan again, harder.

“Criston!” you scream. “Security! Somebody!”

Nobody can hear me. Nobody is coming.

You sprint into Jace’s suite, seize Criston by one hand, drag him out into the hall. On the blurry periphery of your vision, you can see Aemond getting up off the couch to follow you. The second he spots the monstrous man, Criston is roaring. “No no no, get away from him!” He pushes between Cregan and the giant, terrifying, wrathful. The man dwarfs him. Criston doesn’t seem to know it. “You can’t be here. We’ve been over this, you’re not allowed to be here—”

The man tries to reach around him to clutch at Cregan’s shirt. Aemond pulls you away from the scuffle. Criston hits the man in the solar plexus; he is momentarily stunned, wheezing. By the time he straightens up, Criston—louder than you, bellowing and fierce—has summoned security. They are swarming the man and escorting him back down the hallway towards the elevators. Aemond goes to Cregan. Criston looks at you. You’re quivering, penitent.

“I had no idea…he asked for Cregan…I would never have…I thought maybe he was a friend of the band…”

“He’s on our no fly list,” Criston says. His voice is tired yet patient. “But you wouldn’t know that.”

You try to apologize to Cregan, but he isn’t listening to you. He’s listening to Aemond. Aemond is speaking to him, low and calm, too quietly for you to hear. “I’m okay,” Cregan says unsteadily. “I’m fine.”

“It’s alright if you’re not,” Aemond tells him.

And you know that right now you are unnecessary, intrusive. Criston goes downstairs to figure out how Comet’s security guards in the lobby didn’t catch this and—presumably—to ensure that the invader is properly dealt with. Aemond slings an arm across Cregan’s shoulders and leads him back to the party where he is cared for, welcome, valued, safe. You hide in your own suite and try not to think about the dates on the calendar—missing blood, summer days ticking down towards zero—as you steep in a hot bath and attempt to scrub everything you’ve done wrong, today, yesterday, ever, off your skin. Then you change into an oversized Backstreet Boys t-shirt and your favorite Cookie Monster pajama pants.

You try to sleep but of course you can’t, surrounded by a silence that only gets louder. When you hear the swipe of a keycard and the creaking of your door, you don’t know who to expect: Cregan, Criston, Rhaena, Luke, Baela, Jace, Daeron, Shelby, Aemond, ghosts. The clopping of his Crocs gives him away, neon pink to match his tank top. “I’m really not in the mood for anything resembling sex.”

Aegon replies as he kicks off his Crocs: “Did I ask, succubus?” He crawls into the bed, throws an arm casually across your waist, rests his head on your belly as your fingers thread through his chaotic blond hair, fond and tender. He burrows into you, into your softness and your warmth and your truth and your mysteries. Sometimes you feel like you’ll give until he falls into you like a trapdoor, the bones of his hands tangling around your spine, his blood vessels spilling into all of your rage-scarlet cavities, hollows of the flesh, hollows of the soul. “You’re sad.”

You stare up at the ceiling. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know what. That’s the strange thing. Usually I can tell.”

“You’ve been gone.”

He looks up at you, confused. “I’ve been right here.”

“You know what I meant.”

Aegon doesn’t argue with you, doesn’t try to defend himself, doesn’t make promises both of you know he could never keep. He only lays his head down on your belly again and pulls himself closer to you, closer, closer, melting into your melancholy, dissolving into dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I was eleven when he broke my arm. Thirteen when he cracked my skull for the first time. Then I got big enough to hurt him back.” Cregan looks out over the waves: blue currents, white froth, sunbeams like glinting blades. As Criston promised, Comet is spending an afternoon in Seaside Heights. You and Cregan are sitting on the sand together twenty yards from the others. “I grew up in a two-bedroom cabin with no electricity or running water. We had a metal wash tub outside, ate deer and squirrels and rabbits, never had clothes that fit, never saw a doctor except when what was wrong might kill us. We had a woodstove and chopped down trees to burn in the winter. I had eight siblings, six of whom are still alive. Barnett overdosed. Courtland drove his friend’s Nissan into a brick wall. I’m not sure it was accidental.”

Your words are soft like a whisper, like gentle hands. “Cregan, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not…” His voice breaks. He stops for a while, composes himself, begins again. “It’s not something I talk about. Not because I’m trying to forget it. I can’t forget it, I’ll never be able to, I understand that, believe me. There’s just nothing to be gained from talking about it. I never feel better afterwards. I always feel worse.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know that. Don’t you think I know that?”

You wait, watching him. There’s something he needs to say. Down the beach a ways, Baela is doing yoga, her bare feet sure and agile in shifting sand. Rhaena, Luke, and Aemond are flying kites in the breeze: black dragons, green dragons. Shelby is, predictably, filming them from where she stands on Aemond’s good side. Aegon and Daeron are swimming so far out that you’re beginning to worry about sharks. Criston is parked under an umbrella with an unconscious Jace, reading Memoirs Of A Geisha and eating a sandwich full of something called pork roll.

“After Comet happened, I got all of them out,” Cregan continues. “My mum, my siblings. Good houses in safe neighborhoods. Security in case Dad makes an appearance. He does, every once in a while. He’s locked up, he’s free, he’s locked up again. He has nothing else to do but haunt us. I’ve been waiting for him to die since I was old enough to understand what a graveyard is.” Cregan looks at you. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” you answer immediately.

“The thing is…” He holds out one large hand, palm down, like he’s resting it on a table. Then he shakes it. “Nothing ever feels stable. Nothing ever feels safe. No matter how much money I see stack up in accounts, I lie awake at night wondering what I’ll do if it disappears. So many people rely on me. I can’t stop worrying I’ll end up back in that cabin somehow. I can still hear drops of rainwater seeping in through the gaps in the roof. I can still smell burning wood.”

“The fact that you feel this way, given your history, is completely logical…even if the fear itself is not. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Cregan says. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you think it would help if we sat down and looked at the numbers and did some math? Because I suspect that even with a hundred dependents, you’d easily be able to float them for the rest of your lifetime just using the money you already have. And there will be royalties from Comet’s songs forever. Maybe if we can show you exactly how improbable your worst case scenario is, that fear will begin to fade a bit. Not go away, not completely, maybe not ever…but I think you’ll be able to quiet it down.”

“I’ll give it a try. If you recommend it.” Cregan lights a cigarette and takes a drag. Criston glances over and then pretends he didn’t notice. “I have a daughter,” Cregan says; and you can’t stop the shock from hitting your face like a fist. He smiles faintly, wistfully. “I know. I’ve worked very hard to make sure she is kept away from…” He gestures broadly. “All of this.” Fame. Debauchery. Tabloids. Reddit threads. “I was way too young. And her mother and I…we were never really together. It was contentious for a while, but we’ve sorted through things. I support them financially, obviously. And when I’m not on tour or in the studio, I disappear up to Lancaster for a few weeks at a time and no one is the wiser.”

You study him as wind tears in off the Atlantic Ocean, as seagulls swoop and screech overhead. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate how you’ve protected her once she can understand.”

“I don’t know how to be a father. Not a good one. But I try. I don’t just show up for movie nights and birthdays. I take her shopping for school supplies. I put her back to bed when she has nightmares. I take her to the dentist, to the park, to the library. She really likes pigs, so I adopted a few from a farm animal rescue and we learned how to raise them together.”

“You caring about being a good parent puts you ahead of a lot of people already,” you say. “Nobody in Comet knows?”

“Just Aemond. Once, years ago, her mother needed something and I was out of the country. I had to let somebody in on the secret, somebody I could trust. I chose Aemond. I chose right.” Now Cregan is amused. “He’s the one who suggested the pigs.”

“Of course he did,” you say; and you can’t help but smile. “How old is she?”

“Six and a half. Do you want to see a picture her?”

“Absolutely. If it’s alright with you.”

Cregan pulls his iPhone from his pocket, swipes around for a while, and then turns the screen so you can see. She looks like him, a lot like him, but with round cheeks and long dark lashes. And Cregan is beaming as he says: “Her name is Iris.”

“So you didn’t have to do the Maury paternity test thing.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I knew from the second I saw her she was mine.”

“She’s lucky to have you.”

Cregan shrugs, pensive, evasive. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” And he believes that you mean it; you can see it on his face. Aemond is watching you and Cregan, you notice now. He glances over, pretends he didn’t, glances again. You gesture to the crashing waves and say to Cregan: “If Aegon gets attacked by a shark, will you jump in and punch it or something please?”

Cregan chuckles. “Yeah. That’s my main job here, I think. Stopping people from dying.” And then, seriously: “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything that warrants it.”

“No. Really.” Cregan reaches out, takes your uninjured hand, squeezes it briefly before releasing you. “Thank you, Stargirl.” Then he stands and walks to the water’s edge, letting the surf rush up over his ankles, for just a moment feeling nothing on his shoulders but the sunlight.

Aemond gives Shelby his kite and, as she glares bitterly, makes his way over to you. He takes off his sunglasses so he can see you better and hooks them on the waistband of his swim trunks: black, of course, his usual color. You’re actually wearing black today too, a flowing coverup over a pink swimsuit. You feel very much like hiding. When Aemond speaks, there is perhaps a hint of envy, green like leaves of poison, gleaming like snakeskin. “What were you and Cregan talking about?”

“Fatherhood.” And then you realize how it might sound.

There is a split second where Aemond looks startled; then he remembers Iris. “Right. Not so easy for people like us to navigate.”

People like us. Celebrities, boy band members, haunted men. You scramble for a nonchalant way to feel out the subject with him. “How does Louis Tomlinson handle it?”

“He’s a saint,” Aemond says. And you think: Patron saint of baby daddies? “Freddie was very, very unplanned. The mother was a nobody, a rebound. And a lot of people assumed she did it on purpose to try to keep Louis. Or to get eighteen years of a luxury lifestyle out of him. Or to just get fame in general. Personally, I believe it was all of the above.”

“Right,” you say, sweating heavily beneath your coverup.

“But none of that is the kid’s fault, and Louis is a good enough guy to realize it. So he plays nice with Freddie’s mother and they don’t go to war through tabloids anymore.”

“So, uh…” How can I put this? “You’re good with kids too. Cregan told me you had the pig idea.”

And the look that crosses Aemond’s face, the look: caustic, incredulous, night-dark, self-loathing. “Are you insane? Have you met me? I terrify kids. And I should, but not just because of the eye and the scar. What the hell do I know about being a decent father? What do I know about being a decent anything? I’d have no idea where to start. I’d fuck it up even if I tried desperately not to. I’d end up with kids like Aegon: addicts who hate themselves, people who are irrevocably lost.”

You say meekly: “I think Criston is something like a father to you. He could be a role model.”

“I’m not half as good a man as Criston is.”

Change the topic, change the topic, before Aemond gets suspicious. And there’s something else you’ve been meaning to ask him. “Aemond…after you almost murdered Jace…when we didn’t know if or how he was going to be able to perform until he healed…did anyone ask you to come back to Comet and fill in for him?”

“No,” Aemond says. And he’s thunderstruck by the thought, appalled, petrified.

“You don’t think that it might have been a good idea? That it might make sense?”

“No,” he says again instantly.

“But…in Tokyo…when Daeron made that speech at the last show…I think the crowd’s reaction was pretty powerful, don’t you? People still care about you. They love and respect you. And I think…maybe…it might help you with what you’ve experienced. To get back on stage—even just one last time—and prove to yourself that you still have what it takes. To know that if you do leave Comet, it’s your choice, not anyone else’s.”

“They love who I was,” Aemond says. “Not who I am now. And that’s easy to do. They don’t have to look at me.”

“Goddammit, there’s nothing wrong with how you look, Aemond!” you burst out. “You look fantastic. I never get tired of looking at you. I want to look at you all the fucking time. I’d hang life-sized portraits of you on every wall in my apartment in Kansas City. That’s how much I enjoy looking at you.”

He thinks you’re joking, he thinks you’re trying to make him feel better. You can’t stop him from thinking these things. And yet still, as he turns away, he is smiling: just a whisper of a curl at the corner of his lips, secretive, fragile.

As Comet is leaving the beach, you stop at a souvenir shop on the boardwalk to buy your keepsake for this tour destination. You settle on a pink frisbee that has I love the Jersey Shore! embossed on it in large, abrasive letters. You think your parents’ Australian cattle dogs will enjoy fetching it when you get home. Home feels so much closer—both literally and figuratively—than it did just a few weeks ago.

Criston is browsing through the t-shirts. “Hey, what size is your mom, Aegon? Medium?”

“How the hell would I know? Probably.” He holds up a pair of red, white, and blue bikini bottoms that say Firecracker across the ass. “You think my dad would mind if you sent her these?”

Criston is blushing. “Aegon, stop.”

“You could get her a bikini top too. Oh look, that one over there is red, it matches. And it says MILF across the tits. So that’s pertinent.”

“Stop!” Criston cries, distressed, and flees the store.

Halfway through the hour-long drive back to the hotel, Aegon insists that Criston stop the Escalades so he can get a hoagie from a Wawa. Aegon has never had a hoagie before. He says he cannot truly experience America without one.

At the ordering counter, Jace—slightly less bruised and swollen today, and thus in better spirits—taunts Aegon: “Are you sure you need all that bread? You’re going to be wearing a muumuu on stage by the time we get to the Midwest.”

“You know, just because you said that, now I’m going to get two hoagies…”

On the television mounted inside the Wawa, CNN is reporting on a group of tornadoes that just struck Wichita. And it occurs to you that tornadoes don’t have trajectories to calculate like hurricanes or airplanes or comets; they are climatological sharks. They strike quickly, indiscriminately, and then they’re gone again. They aren’t named. They aren’t enshrined. They don’t even have a belly to cut open and retrieve pieces of your loved ones from. If they take someone, they’re just gone.

While the rest of the band is in line to order their food, and Aemond is scrutinizing the dried fruit and nuts selection, you sneak through the other aisles.

It’s time. I have to find out eventually. I have to know.

You pluck a pregnancy test—cute, pink, nausea-inducing—off a rack, purchase it with truly impressive speed at the checkout counter, and race to the bathroom. It’s surprisingly difficult to piss on a tiny stick of doom, especially when your primary hand is in a splint and only partially useable. Eventually, you manage. You put the cap back on the pregnancy test, set it on top of the toilet paper dispenser, and stare at the metal door of the stall. The Wawa speakers are playing The Fray’s Over My Head.

It won’t be positive. It can’t be positive.

You think of pregnancy test commercials you’ve seen: happy couples rejoicing, happy single women getting negatives. How are you supposed to react to bad news? Nobody ever tells you. Do you scream, sob, beg for forgiveness, schedule an appointment at Planned Parenthood? Do you kick the bathroom stall door down in mindless feminine fury? Do you throw yourself off a balcony?

There’s no way it will be positive. It was one time. Just one goddamn time.

And who knows if that will ever happen again with Aemond. This does not improve your mood.

You pick up the pregnancy test. It is unequivocally positive.

You shove it into the small rectangular trashcan for pads and tampons, things you won’t be needing in the immediate future. You get dressed, leave the stall, go to the sink and wash your hands. Then you grip the cool, slick, white porcelain and gaze at yourself in the mirror under nowhere-to-hide florescent lights. What do you feel? Everything, nothing, things you can’t name yet. You’re a raw nerve, you’re completely numb.

The bathroom door swings open. Shelby enters. She squares up with great purpose. Your eyes roll to her, slowly, with no tolerance left, not a drop of it. “Stay away from Aemond,” she demands.

“Make me.”

She is in disbelief. “I’m sorry, what?”

You turn all the way towards her. “Fucking make me, Shelby.”

“I knew you wanted him,” she says, she seethes. “I saw you in those paparazzi photos from Reykjavik and I knew you were already twisting your claws into him.”

You hold up your hands to show her; your thoughts are fuzzy, dazed, without inhibition. “I have no claws whatsoever. If I did, you’d know about it. Believe me. You’d be able to look down and watch your heart beating through the gashes.”

“You don’t belong here. Some Midwestern farm girl running around in flip flops and Cookie Monster pajama pants? You’re trash. You’re a user. You’re a nobody. And if you’re trying to steal a taken man, then you’re a whore too.”

“I’ve been called worse things by better people.”

“I can make them hate you,” Shelby says indignantly. “Comet. The world.”

“Good luck with that, Malibu Barbie. Nobody even knows I exist.”

“Stay away from Aemond,” she says again, trembling with her futile bleach-blond rage. “We’re meant to be together. We have so much history.”

“And yet no future.” You smile sweetly, breeze past her, step on one of her perfectly pedicured feet with a thoroughly unpretentious flip flop. By the time you return to them, the band is almost ready to leave Wawa.

You’re not hungry, but Aegon coaxes you into taking a few bites from his hoagie. You’re not able to focus on what people are saying, but you hear Aemond mention that he wishes Comet had time to visit a planetarium in some nearby town called Toms River. You think about what it would be like to lie side by side with him under the stars, under the sky where comets appear again after vanishing for centuries. You wonder if there’s anyplace where you and Aemond could ever be truthful with each other.

At night you can’t sleep. There is no shortage of reasons why. You wander from your bed to the gold-carpet hallway to the vending machines, where you stare brainlessly at the options. Am I supposed to not be drinking caffein? Did I get any Vitamin D today? How much sugar is too much? You buy a bottle of apple juice—surely a safe bet—and head back to your suite.

As you walk by Aemond and Shelby’s door, your steps slow. Some nights you can hear them in there arguing: Shelby reiterating all the reasons why they’re perfect for each other, clearly a rebuttal to an accusation you weren’t privy to. Some nights you hear muffled casual conversation or episodes of Cosmos. Some nights you hear nothing at all. Some nights your imagination colors in the gaps before you can stop it: his hands on her, his mouth on her, things you know you have no right to dread and yet you do. But tonight, Shelby is momentarily removed from the scene. You can hear the distant pattering of the shower, and then Aemond alone in the living room gathering up plates and glasses. He’s singing something very quietly, so quietly it takes you a while to recognize it. It’s not even a Comet Donati song. It’s Through The Dark.

You sit down in the empty hallway, your back to his door. And you lean your head against it as you listen to Aemond singing softly to himself, doubt sinking into you the same way that trapped blood fills a bruise: Maybe it wasn’t as good for him as it was for me. Maybe he doesn’t talk to me because he doesn’t want to. Maybe I don’t belong here anymore. Maybe I’ve invented a history that we don’t really share. Maybe he didn’t mean it when he said he loves me.

“What am I going to do?” you whisper, scalding tears brimming in your eyes, shivering hands settling on your belly. In a few months, you’ll be showing. “What the hell am I going to do?”

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