#Mickey Valen

[mercenaryg]

Happy Halloween, time to let out your inner villain and sing it to the hells.

[squirrelfm]

Squirrel FM: We'll be your undoing.

[magic-spring]

Baby, you're mine

[gaycactusscoundrel]

Song of the Day 3/22/2023

[levinbolts]

writing a sims story in my head that i know damn well i'm not about to pose

[elikajinnie]

Cold Touch, Sharp Mirror - P.S

P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Sunghoon X Survivor!Reader (recommended age 17+)

Warnings: Death, Murder, Suggestive Content, Blood/Injury, Obsession, Chasing, Fixation, Temperature Play?

Synopsis: You’ve always liked snow, but you never liked the idea of being chased through it—too loud, too slippery. Luckily, the Entity’s maps were more muddy than snowy. That is, until a new killer arrived, bringing with him a snowy map. And it seems like he’s fixated on finding the perfect beauty to complement him and you're exactly what he’s looking for.

a/n: im so happy my pookies @aceheexx and @concerned-terrapin got dbd :3 also i went a bit overboard with the ending???

heeseung version | jay version

now playing: like a dream by thomas larosa | frzzn by ozzie | chills -dark version by mickey valen

--

Now, normally, you loved snow. Back before you were taken by the entity, you’d always be thrilled when it snowed—watching the snowflakes drift from the sky, each one unique and delicate, settling on the ground and transforming it into a soft, white wonderland. It felt comforting, like nature’s own little gift. But time doesn’t follow the same rules in the entity’s realm. Seasons don’t change, and winter becomes a distant memory, a concept rather than a feeling. You haven’t felt real snow in what feels like forever.

So, when you first saw it again you felt a flicker of joy. You landed on the ground, expecting that chill on your skin, the cold air filling your lungs. But instead, you were met with something... wrong. The snow didn’t fall naturally, but seemed to be pasted onto the world, cold only in appearance. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t alive. The snowflakes didn’t twirl through the air, and the ground beneath your feet felt too solid, too still. No crisp bite in the air, no damp chill seeping through your clothes. Just a hollow echo of the winter you once loved. The excitement quickly faded, replaced by a bitter disappointment. It wasn't real. It never was.

You didn’t expect much when you were called for a trial. They were all the same at this point—different maps, same routine. But as soon as you arrived, something felt… off. The air was sharp and biting, your breath fogged in front of you, and a chill ran down your spine as you took in your surroundings. You were standing outside a massive manor, its roof blanketed with thick snow and sharp icicles hanging from the edges like teeth. Snow drifted lazily from the sky, it was quiet and the crunch of snow under your boots felt too loud. You hugged yourself against the cold, shivering as it nipped at your skin.

This was new.

Your eyes scanned the manor, its grandness both stunning and foreboding. You didn’t recognize it from any previous trials, and that only made your chest tighten. This map was new. And if it was new, there was only one explanation.

A new killer.

You took a hesitant step forward, your nerves on edge as you climbed the steps to the manor’s entrance. The door creaked open with little effort and your heart sank as you took in the strange décor. The walls were lined with mirrors—some shattered, their jagged shards glinting menacingly, others cracked just enough to distort your reflection. A few were pristine, their surfaces smooth and unbroken, but something about them felt wrong. The reflections didn’t look quite right.

Your breath came out in quick puffs, the cold seeming to seep through the walls themselves. You forced yourself to keep moving, knowing you had to find a generator. The sooner you started, the sooner this trial could be over.

Your search led you to a massive ballroom, and your breath caught in your throat. It was unlike anything you’d seen before. The floor was a sheet of ice, polished to a mirror-like shine, and the room seemed to stretch endlessly. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, but instead of glass, it was crafted entirely from icicles, their razor-sharp points glistening as they swayed ever so slightly. The windows—or where the windows should have been—were replaced with cracked mirrors.

You stepped carefully onto the icy floor, your boots slipping slightly as you made your way further in. The cold seemed to deepen here, clawing at your skin and making you shudder uncontrollably. You glanced around, half-expecting to see a generator, but there was none in sight.

You huffed in frustration as you slid across the icy floor, your footing unstable. The sharp cold gnawed at your fingers and toes, even through your clothes. Just as you steadied yourself, a scream tore through the air, slicing through the quiet like a blade. It was distant but blood-curdling, the cry of a survivor encountering the killer.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you moved forward, walking through a pair of wide, icy double doors that led to a balcony. The scene that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

Below you stretched a massive, frozen garden. Rows of tall hedges loomed like the skeletal remains of a long-dead maze, their branches brittle and crusted with frost. The labyrinth twisted and turned, the pathways obscured by fog that clung to the ground like ghostly tendrils. Scattered throughout the garden were ice statues—figures frozen mid-motion—but the distance made it hard to tell if they were just art.

Movement in the maze caught your eye. You squinted and leaned over the balcony’s edge. It was Nancy. She was running through the labyrinth, her hands flailing as she waved desperately in your direction. Panic was written all over her face, her wide eyes darting between you and something behind you.

It took a moment for you to process what she was trying to convey. That’s when it hit you—a cold breeze that wrapped around your body like icy fingers. Your breath caught as you shivered violently, your teeth chattering. Slowly, as if against your own will, you turned around.

And there he was.

A tall man loomed behind you, unnervingly still, his presence so cold. He was clad in a tailored suit, though it was torn and frayed in places. An icy sheen coated the fabric, frost clinging to him as if he were part of winter. His hair was white, and the tips seemed frozen, as though frost had begun to consume him from the edges.

But it was his face that sent chills down your spine.

The left side of his face was hauntingly beautiful—sharp, elegant features carved from pale skin, veins of icy blue tracing faintly on his neck. His lips, pale and slightly blue, parted slightly as a frosty mist escaped with every breath, and his eye, an unnatural, glowing blue, fixed on you with an intensity that rooted you in place.

The right side of his face, however, was hidden beneath a mask of cracked mirrors, the shards reflecting distorted images of yourself. The fragments shifted slightly, catching the dim light as if they were alive, twisting your reflection into a grotesque parody.

In his right hand, he held a massive shard of glass, its edges jagged and sharp, covered in frost that glittered like deadly diamonds. Ice crawled along the surface, spiraling down to the hilt where his gloved hand gripped it tightly. His other hand, bare and pale as death itself, hung loosely at his side, frost coating his fingertips.

He tilted his head slowly, the motion unnatural. You couldn’t tell if the sound you heard was the creak of his neck or the faint crackle of ice forming in the air around him.

Your breath hitched as you took a shaky step back, the icy floor beneath you making it nearly impossible to find stable footing. The cold wasn’t just external anymore; it was inside you, crawling through your veins almost like a parasite.

The killer took a step forward, the shard of glass dragging across the ground, leaving a thin trail of frost in its wake. The sound it made was sharp and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

The only thought screaming in your mind was run.

And you didn’t hesitate. Your survival instincts kicked in, and you pushed off the icy floor, sliding awkwardly toward the edge of the balcony. Without a second thought, you vaulted over, your heart leaping into your throat as you braced for the impact below. The landing was rough but the adrenaline forcing you to ignore the ache.

As you straightened up, you glanced back over your shoulder, just for a split second, and froze.

He was leaning over the balcony, his hand resting on the icy railing, his head tilted again. He wasn’t rushing after you. He wasn’t angry or even fazed. Instead, he watched you with a cold calmness, like a predator confident in its prey’s inevitable capture.

That made it worse.

You didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. Turning on your heel, you took off running into the labyrinth, the snow crunching loudly beneath your boots. Every step a reminder of how exposed you were.

You didn’t know where you were going—just away. Away from him. Away from the cold and the glass shard that promised pain and death. Your breath came in quick, visible puffs as you ran, your lungs burning from the freezing air.

The labyrinth was a maze in every sense of the word, the fog making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. You turned left, then right, your boots sliding on patches of ice hidden beneath the snow. Your mind raced as you tried to recall the layout you’d glimpsed from the balcony, but it was no use. Every path looked the same—dead and endless.

Another scream rang out, sharper and closer this time. Your heart sank. You couldn’t tell who it was, so you forced yourself to keep going, your legs burning with the effort of running on the uneven, frozen ground.

Your legs burned, your lungs screamed for air, and the cold gnawed relentlessly at your skin. You finally skidded to a halt, leaning against the icy hedge for support. The snow beneath you crunched as you shifted, each breath coming out as shaky puffs of mist. You sniffled, shivering as you tried to gather your thoughts.

That’s when you saw it.

To your right, standing innocently against the frozen hedge, was a tall mirror. It was pristine, untouched by the cracks, the frame was silver, almost shimmering, and frost curled delicately along its edges like it had been painted there. The glass itself was so smooth it reflected everything perfectly, capturing your wide-eyed, disheveled image with startling clarity.

You tilted your head, your breath hitching as you stared. It had been so long since you’d seen your reflection—so long since you’d stopped to even think about what you looked like. The sight was strange, foreign even. You didn’t recognize the exhausted, frost-bitten figure staring back at you, but something about the mirror pulled you in.

Your feet moved before your mind could stop them, carrying you closer. You stood before the mirror, your breath fogging the glass slightly as you studied yourself. Hesitantly, your hand lifted, trembling as your fingertips hovered just above the icy surface. You shouldn’t touch it. You knew you shouldn’t. But something about it was calling to you, drawing you in like the lure of a siren.

The instant your fingers brushed the glass, it happened.

A sudden force yanked you forward, your breath stolen as your vision blurred. You didn’t even have time to cry out as the cold wrapped around you, dragging you into the mirror. The world flipped and spun, shards of glass and light flashing all around you. Your reflection fractured into countless pieces, each one distorting your image—your face twisted, stretched, broken in ways that made your stomach lurch.

When you finally came to, the spinning stopped. You opened your eyes, but the sight that greeted you was nothing like the labyrinth you’d been running through.

You were inside the mirror.

The world around you was endless and disorienting. Shards of glass floated in the air, twisting and turning, each one reflecting a fractured image of you. Some pieces were small, no larger than a coin, while others were enormous, towering over you like walls. Each shard seemed to hum faintly, a sound that vibrated through your skull and made your head throb. You reached out to steady yourself, but there was nothing solid to hold on to—just the endless, shifting glass.

You felt dizzy, your legs weak as you struggled to comprehend where you were. The reflections moved strangely, showing parts of yourself that weren’t in the same position as the rest of you. It was like watching a puzzle where the pieces didn’t quite fit.

Then, a voice.

It cut through the humming like a blade, low and smooth, with an icy edge that sent a chill straight to your core.

“Oh, you poor thing,” the voice purred, dripping with mockery. “So eager to touch what you shouldn’t. Did you really think the mirror was just for show?”

You whipped your head around, searching for the source, but there was no one there—just more glass reflecting your panicked face.

The voice chuckled, soft and cold. “Do you like it in here? It’s my little masterpiece. Every broken shard tells a story, you see. And now, you’ve become part of it.”

You spun in place, your breaths coming faster. “Where are you?!”

The laughter grew louder, echoing all around you, each shard vibrating with the sound, but he did not answer you.

Instead the glass around you began to shift, the shards rearranging themselves into new patterns. They moved closer, boxing you in, the reflections multiplying until it felt like you were being watched by a thousand versions of yourself—and something else.

In one of the largest shards, his reflection appeared. The killer.

He stood just on the other side of the glass, staring at you with a calm expression. Slowly, he raised his gloved hand and pressed it to the glass, the icy surface fogging slightly under his touch.

Your breath hitched as you stumbled back, you moved until your back hit something solid—the mirror you’d touched before.

Before you could process what was happening, the glass behind you pulled you in again. The world spun, shards flying past your vision as you felt that same sickening tug. A freezing chill washed over you, and then suddenly—

You were out.

Your feet hit solid ground, and you collapsed forward onto your hands and knees, gasping for air. The disorientation left you dizzy, your head pounding as you tried to steady yourself. The cold still clung to you, biting at your skin like a lingering phantom of the mirror world.

You forced yourself to your feet, legs shaky and unsteady, your breath coming out in frantic clouds. As you looked around, you froze.

This wasn’t where you’d been before.

Instead, you were in a dark, underground section of the estate. The air here was thicker, heavier. The walls around you were frozen, their icy surfaces glinting faintly.

Above you, sharp icicles hung dangerously from the ceiling. They were long and jagged, some as thick as your arm, and looked as though they could fall at the slightest provocation.

You took a cautious step forward, the crunch of snow under your boot echoing unnaturally loud. Your eyes darted upward, watching the icicles sway ever so slightly. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. One wrong move, one too-loud sound, and those deadly spikes could come crashing down.

“Stay calm,” you thought to yourself.

You continued forward, your steps careful and measured. The way revealed more of the icy corridor ahead, branching off into several paths.

Then you heard it.

A faint, distant crack.

Footsteps.

Your blood ran cold. He was here.

You turned, your eyes darting around for any sign of an escape, but you were offered nothing more but dead ends.

Then his voice cut through the air, smooth and taunting.

“You can’t run forever.”

You turned sharply, picking a path at random and running, your boots sliding on the slick ground.

Behind you, the footsteps quickened, you didn’t dare look back, the sense of him closing in enough to keep you moving forward.

You rounded a corner and skidded to a halt.

A dead end.

And the only way out was the way you’d come. You spun around, your back pressed against the frozen wall, your breath ragged as you watched the corridor you’d just come from.

The footsteps stopped.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, he stepped into view, his towering frame filling the narrow passage as he took a step forward.

You pressed harder against the wall, your fingers numb from the cold, your mind racing for a way out. But there was none.

He stopped just a few feet from you, his breath visible in the icy air.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gloved fingers brushing along the edge of the mirror shard in his hand and slowly, his gaze began to travel downward, starting at your face, moving over the trembling rise and fall of your chest, your arms clinging tightly to yourself, and finally down to your legs and boots, still trembling slightly from your desperate run.

A low hum escaped his lips, soft and almost contemplative, a sound that sent chills crawling up your spine, as if he were truly appreciating what he saw.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice smooth. He took another step forward, closing the already-small distance between you. You pressed harder against the frozen wall, your entire body stiffening as he leaned closer.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

His pale hand rose slowly, as if to savor the moment. You flinched as his fingers brushed against your cheek, and the touch was so cold it burned. You froze entirely, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. The air left your lungs in short, visible puffs as your body tried in vain to fight the cold spreading from where his hand lingered.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly, his tone almost... tender. He tilted his head again, his lips curving into a faint, chilling smile. “No need to be afraid, my dear. I wouldn’t dare ruin something so... beautiful.”

You stared up at him, wide-eyed and trembling, your body refusing to obey your frantic thoughts screaming at you to move, to run, to do something. But the cold was paralyzing.

His hand trailed along your cheek, the frozen burn spreading as he brushed his thumb over your jawline, tracing the edge of your face with unsettling care. “Your face... so delicate. So perfect.”

His cold breath brushed against your face, his voice no louder than a whisper. “Your eyes...” His thumb stopped, resting just beneath one of them, his frosted breath clouding in the air between you. “So full of life. So bright, even now. You’re unlike any I’ve seen before.”

You couldn’t respond. The cold had stolen your voice, your teeth chattering too hard for you to form words. He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he appeared amused by your silence.

“You’re trembling so much,” he murmured, his hand shifting to brush a strand of hair from your face, the motion almost... gentle. “Is it the cold? Or... me?”

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing your ear as he whispered, “Perhaps both.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him away, to do anything, but all you could do was stand there, trapped in his icy grip. You felt like you were being frozen alive.

His hand moved to your neck, his fingers grazing your skin as he chuckled, his breath like a biting winter wind. “I could keep you here forever,” he mused, his tone almost dreamy, as if the idea truly pleased him. “Frozen, perfect, untouchable. Just... mine.”

His words sent a wave of panic crashing over you, momentarily snapping you out of the icy haze clouding your mind. Your body twitched, an instinctive attempt to break free, but his grip tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you just how powerless you were in this moment.

“You’re frightened,” he said, his tone shifting to one of mock sympathy. “Good. Fear suits you.”

And just as the tears began to sting your eyes from the cold and helplessness, his fingers left your skin, and he pulled back slightly. He studied you for a moment longer, as if committing every detail of your face to memory.

Then, in a soft, almost wistful tone, he murmured, “Run.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your mind barely processing the command before his smirk widened and he stepped back, his hand once again gripping the icy shard at his side.

“Go,” he said, his voice sharper now, like the crack of frozen glass. “Let’s see how far you can get.”

The moment your body allowed it, you bolted, stumbling past him and into the freezing corridors, his cold laughter echoing behind you like the toll of a bell.

Your legs carried you forward, slipping and stumbling over the icy ground. The sound of his laughter followed you, echoing through the frozen halls. It was as though it bounced off the very walls, coming at you from all directions, mocking your panic and desperation.

The floor beneath you shifted unexpectedly, the ice slick and uneven. Your foot slipped, and you went sprawling to the ground with a sharp gasp. The impact jarred your body, pain shooting up your arm as you braced your fall. For a moment, the world spun, the sound of your ragged breathing filling your ears.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” his voice called out, closer than it should have been.

Your head snapped up, and you realized the light above you had shifted. You turned your gaze slowly upward, and there he was, standing just above you.

“You’re quite resilient,” he mused, his icy voice calm, almost teasing. “But you’re slowing down. The cold is catching up to you.”

Panic surged through you, overriding the pain in your arm as you scrambled to your feet. You bolted again, ignoring the way your legs screamed in protest.

Then you spotted it.

A faint glow ahead—warm and flickering, like firelight. Fire.. fire meant heat, warmth and safety.

The glow grew brighter as you neared it, and you realized it was coming from an arched doorway. Beyond it, you could see the orange flicker of flames. You practically threw yourself through the opening, your body collapsing in front of the roaring fireplace in the center of the room.

The warmth hit you like a wave, washing over your frozen skin and sending sharp, painful tingles through your fingers and toes as the feeling began to return. You gasped for air, curling into yourself as the heat began to thaw the icy grip that had taken hold of your body.

But the relief was short-lived.

You turned your head slightly, and your stomach dropped. The room wasn’t empty.

Surrounding you were tall mirrors, each one angled slightly toward the fireplace. They reflected the room in perfect, chilling detail. And in every single one, he was there, standing behind you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you whipped around, but the room was empty.

The mirrors, however, told a different story. He stood just behind your reflection, his piercing blue eye meeting yours through the glass.

“Did you think the fire would save you?” his voice echoed around the room, no longer calm but mocking.

The flames in the fireplace flickered violently, the warmth suddenly waning as frost began to creep across the floor toward you. The temperature plummeted, the ice spreading like veins across the room and snuffing out the fire entirely.

You stumbled backward, heart racing as you turned to face one of the mirrors. He was no longer just standing there—he was moving. Slowly, deliberately, his reflection stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and yours.

Before you could react, a hand shot out of the glass, his icy fingers gripping your wrist with inhuman strength. You screamed as the cold burned your skin, his grip dragging you closer to the mirror.

“Don’t fight it,” he said softly, his voice echoing in your ears as the shards within the mirrors began to hum again. “You belong with me now.”

You struggled against him, your free hand clawing at the icy surface of the mirror as it began to pull you in. The frost crawled up your arm, spreading rapidly as the world around you began to distort, shards of glass spinning wildly in your peripheral vision.

With one final yank, he pulled you through the mirror.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was your own reflection, frozen in terror, staring back at you as the shards swallowed you whole.

You jolted awake with a gasp, your body trembling violently. The cold was overwhelming, gripping you like an unrelenting vice, and as you looked around, your heart sank. You were back in the mirror realm.

The shards around you showed you in unnatural ways. Every angle of yourself felt alien, wrong, like the mirror was trying to break you down piece by piece.

“No,” you whispered, voice weak and trembling, your breath fogging up the air in front of you. Your legs were shaky, but you forced yourself to stand.

There was no time to waste. You spotted another mirror—a whole one this time—standing pristine just a few feet away. Summoning every ounce of courage, you stepped toward the mirror. This time, you didn’t pause to study your reflection. You didn’t let yourself think. You pressed your palm flat against the cold, smooth surface.

The pull came instantly, like an icy wind yanking you forward. Your body jerked as you were sucked into the mirror’s depths once more. The same nauseating sensation returned and you clenched your teeth to keep from screaming.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

You stumbled forward, your feet catching against a thick rug as you fell to your knees. You blinked, the room slowly coming into focus.

It was another part of the manor, entirely different from where you’d been before. The walls were still coated in frost, but it was quieter. You looked up to see a grand fireplace crackling with warm, golden flames. A luxurious couch sat nearby, its velvet cushions looking inviting, though a thin layer of frost clung to the edges.

You didn’t hesitate. The fire called to you like salvation itself.

You dragged yourself to your feet, stumbling toward the fireplace. The warmth hit you in waves, and you let out a shuddering breath as you collapsed onto the rug in front of it, stretching your trembling hands toward the flames.

The heat seeped into your frozen skin, painful at first as the biting cold fought to stay. You held your hands closer, rubbing them together desperately as you tried to thaw yourself.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax. Your body still shook from the adrenaline and cold, but the warmth was soothing, grounding you.

You took a glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. It was richly decorated, though the frost and time had dulled its once-luxurious beauty. A massive portrait hung above the fireplace, but the frost obscured the faces in the painting, making it impossible to make out who—or what—it depicted.

The couch loomed nearby, its plush cushions tempting, but you didn’t dare sit. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down for long, not when he could appear at any moment. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, despite the fire’s warmth.

You stared back into the flames, your mind racing. The mirrors... they were clearly part of his power, his trap, but they also seemed to be a way to move through the manor.

But even as you thought that, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly down the hall.

Your heart leapt into your throat, the warmth of the fire suddenly feeling far too distant. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to move, to hide, but your body refused to obey.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the chill creeping back into the room, the warmth of the fire retreating as if it couldn’t stand him.

“Found you,” his voice purred, low and laced with amusement.

Your body tensed as you slowly turned your head toward him, your breath hitching in your throat. He was closer than you expected—far closer. You hadn’t even heard him cross the room, but there he was, towering over you.

You gasped, your back pressing harder against the rug as though you could somehow melt into the floor to escape him.

He reached out, trailing dangerously close to your face, but he stopped just short of touching you. His icy breath curled in the air as he tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe.

“I should end this,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, but there was an edge to it—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “You’re the last one left. There’s no one else. No one coming to save you.”

Your stomach dropped at his words. The others were gone. Nancy, the others—they’d all fallen to him. You were alone.

He crouched suddenly, leaning over you with a grace that felt almost unnatural. His free hand came to rest on the floor beside you, pinning you in place with his sheer presence. You tried to scoot back, but the icy chill radiating from him seemed to freeze you in place.

“But…” he continued, his voice softer now, contemplative, “I can’t bear to ruin something so… perfect.”

His words caught you off guard, and your eyes widened as he his hand brushed your jaw, his cold fingers gripping gently but firmly. You sucked in a sharp breath, expecting the freezing touch to sting, to burn like the cold always had before.

But it didn’t.

Instead, his touch was… comforting. The cold seeped into your skin, chasing away the ache from the fire’s heat. It was strangely soothing, like the cool side of a pillow on a restless night, or the air of an early winter morning.

Your body reacted involuntarily, your tense muscles relaxing slightly despite the fear coursing through you.

It all left you disoriented.

“You see,” he murmured, his fingers tightening slightly against your jaw, tilting your face up so your eyes met his. “There’s something about you, survivor. Something… different.”

His gaze roamed your features with an unsettling intensity, his icy breath brushing against your face. You tried to look away, but his grip kept you firmly in place.

“You’ve caught my attention,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, almost intimate. “And that doesn’t happen often.”

You didn’t even respond—couldn’t even respond.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice soft but commanding, “are you afraid of me?”

Your heart thundered in your chest, but the answer wasn’t as simple as it should’ve been. Fear clung to you, yes—but so did something else. Something you couldn’t quite name.

When you didn’t answer, his lips curled into a faint, chilling smile. “No matter,” he murmured. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

His hand trailed down to your throat. The cold seeped deeper now, sending a shiver down your spine. His grip was firm but not constricting.

“You’re lucky,” he said softly, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze again. “I’ve decided to spare you. For now.”

“But don’t think for a moment that you’re free,” he added, his voice colder now, sharper.

Before you could even react, his cold, strong hands gripped your waist. A startled gasp escaped your lips as he hoisted you effortlessly into the air, slinging you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“W-What?” you stammered, your breath hitching as you felt the solid, cold muscle beneath his tattered suit.

He didn’t talk, nor did he falter as he began walking, his movements steady. You squirmed slightly, your hands pressed against his broad shoulder in an attempt to push yourself free, but his grip on you was firm, unyielding.

It was then that you noticed something strange—the ground beneath his feet was transforming. With every step he took, the floor froze over, leaving a trail of ice in his wake.

Behind him, the mirror shard he dragged in his hand left another trail, the jagged glass carving faint grooves into the icy floor. It gleamed faintly, catching the dim light of the room, but it was the strange magic in it that drew your attention. The frost along the edges seemed alive, swirling and shimmering in ways that didn’t seem natural.

And the mirrors along the walls reflected your current state back at you. It was almost unrecognizable.

Your hair was dusted with frost, strands glittering like they were laced with snowflakes. Your lashes and brows were coated in icy crystals, and your lips… they looked pale, almost blue, like the color had been drained by the biting cold. Even your skin had taken on a frosty tint, its natural warmth replaced by something delicate and ethereal.

You blinked at the reflection, your breath catching. For a moment, you almost didn’t look like yourself. You looked… otherworldly, like you belonged here, in this frozen hellscape he commanded. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and not just from the cold.

“I see you’ve noticed,” his voice rumbled, deep and laced with amusement. You jolted slightly at the sound of it, and your gaze darted to the back of his head.

“What—what’s happening to me?” you demanded, though your voice came out shaky, far weaker than you intended.

“It suits you,” he said simply, his tone calm, almost admiring. “The frost, the cold. It brings out something… exquisite.”

His words sent a strange mix of emotions coursing through you. You weren’t sure whether to feel flattered or horrified.

“Let me go,” you hissed, though there was little force behind your words.

“No,” he replied, almost lazily, as though the very idea amused him. “Not yet.”

His footsteps echoed as he carried you deeper into the manor. You couldn’t tell where he was taking you, but the icy walls became thicker the further you went.

The air felt colder than ever when he suddenly stopped, and without warning, he threw you down, the impact rattling through your body as you hit the frozen ground. A hiss escaped your lips at the cold biting into your palms, but the sting didn’t linger for long—because that’s when you saw it.

The hatch.

It was right in front of you, its familiar wooden frame stark against the glistening frost around it. Your heart leapt in disbelief. He was letting you go.

You looked up at him, confusion and suspicion warring within you. Was this some sort of trap? But when your eyes met his, he was already staring at you, his calm, piercing gaze sending shivers down your spine.

He crouched down, his movement eerily graceful, and brought his hand to your cheek once more. The coldness of his touch was no longer unbearable—almost like your skin had adjusted to the frost.

“You survived, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and low, laced with something unidentifiable.

His breath curled in a frosty mist around your face as he leaned closer, his lips just a whisper away from your ear.

“I’ll see you real soon.”

Before you could say anything—before you could even think of a response—he rose to his full height, turned, and walked away.

You didn’t wait to see if he would change his mind. Scrambling forward, you gripped the edge of the hatch and pulled yourself in.

The cold vanished immediately as you fell, the icy chill replaced by a strange weightlessness. For a moment, you floated in nothingness, then, with a thud, you landed on the soft, familiar dirt of the survivor’s camp.

Warmth washed over you instantly, and you sucked in a deep breath, relief flooding through you. You looked around, the familiar sights of the campfire, scattered supplies, and makeshift shelters grounding you. It was over. The trial was over.

But as you sat there, staring into the fire’s comforting glow, the memory of his voice lingered in your mind. His words. His touch. His frost.

He had let you go.

--

Your next few trials were nothing short of a nightmare—though, what else was new? First, it was The Trapper, he had almost caught you at the exit gate, but a perfectly timed flashlight save from one of the other survivors gave you just enough time to slip away.

Then, there was Ghostface. His knife had grazed your back once, almost claiming you as you worked on a generator, but somehow, you managed to outmaneuver him, staying just steps ahead of his blade. The trial ended with you sprinting through the exit gate, heart pounding and lungs burning.

But just when you thought you could catch your breath, the Entity had other plans.

The next time the fog swallowed you up and spat you into a new trial, the familiar chill hit you like a slap to the face.

Your boots crunched against the snow as you took in your surroundings, your breath already visible in the icy air. Dead, frostbitten hedges towered around you, stretching into a labyrinth.

Your stomach dropped.

His map. Again.

You took a cautious step forward, trying to steady your breathing as the icy wind bit into your skin.

It didn’t take long before the sound of a generator humming faintly reached your ears. You turned a corner in the maze, spotting one sitting in the center of a small clearing. A teammate—Claudette—was already crouched by it, working diligently.

Relief washed over you as you made your way to her. If you could stick together, you’d have a better chance of survival. But as you reached her side and knelt to help, you couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Your hands trembled slightly as you worked, the cold making it hard to grip the wired properly. Then, without warning, Claudette stiffened beside you, her eyes widening in panic.

“Run,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the howling wind.

You didn’t need to ask why. The frost on the ground spreading, creeping toward you like a living thing, said as much.

You turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

The Frost Warden. At least that is what you and the other has started calling him.

You bolted at the sight of him, the snow crunching loudly beneath your feet as you tore through the maze. The icy wind whipped at your face, stinging your skin, but you didn’t dare look back.

The sound of Claudette’s scream echoed faintly behind you, and guilt clawed at your chest, but you couldn’t stop now.

You turned another corner, your lungs burning from the cold air, and skidded to a stop, nearly stumbling when you saw it—a generator, partially hidden by the frost-covered hedges. Relief mixed with panic surged through you. You had no idea where the others were, but you couldn’t let this chance go to waste.

You ran to it, skidding slightly on the icy ground, and immediately knelt by its side. Your fingers, stiff and numb from the cold, fumbled as you began working. The gears groaned faintly, resisting your touch, but you forced yourself to focus, biting your lip to keep your hands steady.

The sound of the Frost Warden’s footsteps had faded behind you, but you knew better than to assume he’d given up the chase. He didn’t need to run to catch you. This map was his domain, and you were just another mouse trapped in his frozen maze.

The generator sputtered as you fixed another wire, the hum growing louder with each successful connection. Your breath clouded the air in front of you as you worked, the sound of the engine beginning to mask the distant howling wind.

But then, a faint shimmer in the corner of your vision made you freeze.

You glanced up, heart sinking, and spotted a mirror embedded into the wall of the hedges just a few feet away. Its surface rippled faintly, like water disturbed by a pebble, and your reflection stared back at you—pale, frostbitten, and wide-eyed with fear.

For a second, nothing happened. The mirror was still, almost taunting you. But then, the rippling grew stronger, and your blood turned to ice.

You didn’t wait to see what would come through. You turned back to the generator, frantically working to finish it, but your trembling hands slowed you down. The gears groaned again, protesting against your haste.

Behind you, the mirror shimmered one last time, and then the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching through the snow filled the air.

Slow, deliberate, and far too close.

“Fixing something, are we?” The Frost Warden’s icy voice was low and calm, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

You whipped your head around, your heart leaping into your throat. He stood just a few feet away, his tall figure looming over you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His piercing blue eye studied you, sharp and calculating.

“I have to admit,” he said, taking a slow step closer, “I enjoy watching you struggle. It’s... captivating.”

You scrambled to your feet, hands trembling as you backed away from the generator. He tilted his head slightly, his calm expression never faltering, and took another step forward. The frost beneath his feet spread outward with each step, creeping across the ground and curling around the base of the generator.

You wanted to run, to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but your legs felt like lead. The cold seemed to seep into your bones, rooting you in place as his icy gaze bore into you.

“Go on,” he said softly, gesturing with the shard. “Run. Fight. Survive. That’s what you do best, isn’t it?”

His words felt like a taunt, and something inside you snapped. You turned on your heel and bolted, the sound of his low, icy chuckle following you as you disappeared into the labyrinth once more.

Your boots slipped slightly on the frost-slick ground as you sprinted deeper into the labyrinth. Every turn you made felt like the wrong one, the frozen hedges looming high around you, cutting off your sense of direction.

You refused to look back. You couldn’t.

Panic clawed at your chest as you skidded around another corner, narrowly avoiding an ice-coated statue that seemed to glare down at you like a silent sentinel. Your breath was visible in the air, coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

A faint light caught your eye—another generator. This one stood in the center of an open clearing, its dull hum barely audible over the wind. You didn’t hesitate. Sliding to a stop, you crouched beside it, your trembling hands fumbling as you grabbed your tools.

Your fingers were numb, making it even harder to work, but you forced yourself to focus. The wires were stiff and brittle, like they might snap under too much pressure, but you managed to connect them, one by one.

The generator sputtered to life, its engine coughing loudly as it struggled against the cold. You winced at the noise, glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing there, watching. But there was no one. So you took that chance.

Standing up up you sprinted back through the labyrinth, turning sharply around a frozen hedge, when a faint hum caught your ears. Another generator. Your heart leapt with a sliver of hope, and as you rounded the corner, you saw him—Bill.

He was hunched over the last few wires of the generator, his rough hands expertly finishing the job. Sparks flew, and the machine roared to life just as you skidded to a stop nearby.

"Bill!" you gasped, barely able to get the word out as you stumbled toward him, your breath clouding in the icy air.

He looked up sharply, his cigarette dangling from his lips, and his eyes widened when he saw you. "Kid, what the hell are you doin'?" he barked, but before you could answer, the faint crunch of footsteps made both of you freeze.

You didn’t need to say a word. Bill’s face hardened instantly, his sharp instincts kicking in. “Go. Now,” he growled, stepping between you and the sound of approaching frost.

“Bill—”

“Don’t argue with me! Get your ass outta here!” he snapped, pulling his flashlight from his belt.

After a moment of hesitation you turned and bolted, your feet slipping slightly on the frozen ground as you took off deeper into the maze. Behind you, you heard Bill shout, “Come on, you bastard! You want someone? Come get me!”

You risked a glance back just in time to see the Frost Warden emerge from the mist, his tall figure cutting an imposing silhouette. His icy blue eye locked onto Bill.

“Come on dammit!!” Bill yelled, his voice fierce.

You didn’t look back after that. You ran, your legs burning as you pushed forward, weaving through the labyrinth. The sound of their confrontation grew fainter with each step, replaced by the distant hum of generators and the faint howl of the wind.

It wasn’t until you burst through a gap in the hedges and saw the glowing lights of the exit gate in the distance that you realized you were finally in the clear. Your chest heaved, your lungs burning from the effort, but you forced yourself to keep going.

As you reached the gate, you found one of your teammates already there, working frantically to pull the lever. They glanced at you, relief washing over their face as the gate screeched open with a metallic groan.

With one last glance at the icy maze, you stepped through the gate, the warmth of safety washing over you.

--

You hated the smug, talkative killers. The ones who couldn’t just do their job silently but instead had to taunt, flirt, or throw out some sarcastic quip every chance they got. It wasn’t enough for them to hook you or slash at you—they had to make it personal, priding themselves on the mental games they played.

Killers like that were rare, but when you encountered them, you dreaded every moment of the trial. They made it unbearable, turning what was already a desperate fight for survival into a drawn-out performance where they were the star of the show.

The worst part? They always had that air of superiority, acting as if they were untouchable. They thrived on your frustration, your fear, and sometimes even your silence.

“Aw, don’t run now. We were just getting to know each other!”

You could hear their voice ringing in your ears even now, a mocking lilt that made your skin crawl. Some of them flirted, their words dripping with twisted charm as they chased you through the trial, their weapons raised.

“You look so cute when you’re terrified.”

Others just talked endlessly, like they needed you to know how clever or sadistic they were. They’d narrate every move, every mistake you made, as if you weren’t already painfully aware of how close you were to getting caught.

“Really? That’s the best you can do? You should’ve vaulted back there—might’ve lasted a bit longer.”

And then there were the ones who wouldn’t shut up when they hooked you, leaning down like they had all the time in the world, their breath hot against your skin.

“Don’t take it personally, sweetheart. It’s just business… though you do make it so much fun.”

You hated them. All of them.

It wasn’t just the humiliation—it was how they got under your skin, how their words stayed with you even after the trial was over. You could still feel the phantom weight of their hands brushing against your skin as they carried you, hear the mocking laughter as they walked away from the hook, leaving you there to struggle.

And yet, even if he wasn’t as insufferable as the others, he still had that pridefulness about him—this confidence that made him believe he was better than you, better than all of you. He didn’t need to taunt or jeer with endless, childish words like some of the others, but when he spoke, his voice carried weight. His words lingered, cutting deep, mocking you with a sly edge, and worse, when he flirted… it wasn’t just for show.

There was no humor in his tone, no casual arrogance like the smug Ghostface or the loud-mouthed Trickster. When he spoke to you, it felt like there was intent behind every word. Like he meant it.

That’s why, when you dropped into the Hawkins Lab, you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming the Demogorgon was the killer this time. The mechanical hum of the underground facility echoed faintly, and you thought maybe you’d gotten lucky for once.

But then you felt it—the subtle, growing thump of your heartbeat.

You froze.

The air changed. A chill crept over your skin, one that was unmistakable.

The frost.

Your breath hitched as your eyes darted around the dimly lit corridors, and when you saw the faint mist curling along the ground, your stomach dropped.

It was him.

He was the killer this round.

Your pulse quickened, the memory of your last encounter with him flooding your mind. You didn’t know if you were ready to face him again. But ready or not, he was here. Somewhere.

And he was already hunting.

You crept through the winding halls of the lab, the flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows on the steel walls. The chill in the air followed you, prickling at your skin as if a warning.

Finally, in a quieter part of the lab, tucked into a dead-end room, you found a generator. Relief washed over you as you crouched beside it, letting your fingers hover over the familiar knobs and wires. You could do this.

Your hands worked quickly, tightening bolts and rewiring panels, the sound of the generator humming softly beneath your touch. But then, from somewhere deep in the lab, a scream pierced the silence.

It was sharp, panicked, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

One of the others had found him—or, more accurately, he had found them.

Your instinct screamed at you to stop what you were doing, to run and hide before he got too close. But you couldn’t afford to waste time. You couldn’t leave the generator unfinished, and there was no guarantee you’d find another quiet spot like this again.

So you stayed.

Your fingers trembled as you twisted the last wire into place, forcing yourself to focus on the task. Every tick of the generator felt like an eternity, each movement of your hand making your heart pound harder.

And then you felt it—the subtle change in the air.

The frost crept in, curling along the edges of the room like icy tendrils reaching for you.

Your breath fogged as the chill kissed your skin, and your stomach sank just as the generator roared to life, cutting through the silence of the lab.

And then you saw it.

To your left, just beyond the doorway, the faint red glow.

Your heart sank.

The telltale light killers carried with them—always a warning, always a death sentence if you weren’t fast enough. And just past the glow, you saw him.

He stood there, completely still for a moment, then his head tilted slightly, almost curiously, before he took a single step forward. The frost beneath his feet deepened, spreading faster across the floor, as if it were alive and hungry to reach you.

"Impressive," he murmured, his voice smooth and cold, yet carrying a dangerous edge. "You finished the generator all alone? Clever little thing, aren’t you?"

Your legs finally obeyed you, and you stumbled backward, your shoulder hitting the wall as you tried to put distance between yourself and him. But there was nowhere to go—no other exits, no windows to climb through.

He stepped fully into the room now, the red glow of his presence bathing the small space as he closed the distance with unnerving calmness.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, his lips curling into the faintest smirk as his free hand reached out, his frosted fingers brushing lightly against the wall beside your head.

"I’ve been looking forward to this," he whispered. "Don’t disappoint me now."

Well.. he said it.

With your back against the wall and his towering figure leaning in too close, you knew there was only one way out of this.

Before he could react, you drove your knee up with all your strength, slamming it into his stomach.

He staggered back, a sharp groan tearing from his throat as his hand instinctively moved to his abdomen.

"Really?" he hissed, his voice low and laced with irritation.

But you didn’t stick around to hear what else he had to say. The moment you saw him falter, you bolted.

You sprinted past him, your boots skidding slightly on the frosted floor as you rounded the doorway and darted back into the dimly lit hallways of Hawkins Lab.

You could hear him behind you now—not running, but walking. Slow, deliberate, as if he wasn’t worried about catching up.

And that made it worse.

You risked a glance over your shoulder and immediately regretted it.

He was there, just a few meters behind you. “Running again, are we?” he called out. “You should know by now—you can’t outrun the cold.”

You turned sharply around another corner, your breath hitching in your chest, but suddenly—bam!—another survivor came barreling around the corner.

“Watch it!” they hissed, just as panicked as you. It was Meg, her red hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her eyes wide with fear. But before either of you could exchange another word, an icy gust cut through the hallway, and Meg’s eyes widened further.

“Run!” she shouted, but it was too late.

With a flick of his wrist, the shard slashed across Meg’s side, cutting through her jacket and drawing a scream from her lips.

You stumbled back, gasping as you watched in horror.

“Pathetic,” his cold, deep voice echoed, reverberating through the hallway. He stood over Meg, who writhed in pain at his feet, clutching her wound. “So flawed… so imperfect.” His tone was cutting, condescending, as if she were beneath him.

“You’re not worth my time,” he added, tilting his head as he stared down at her, his frostbitten fingers twitching.

Meg groaned and tried to crawl away, but he pressed the tip of his shard into the ground beside her, the ice creeping out in sharp, jagged patterns. He didn’t strike again, though—he didn’t need to. His words alone cut deeper than the shard itself.

“You’ve already been broken,” he sneered, stepping away from her as if she were nothing more than a discarded object.

From his side, he produced a small shard of mirror, its surface gleaming. He turned it in his hands with a strange gentleness, his icy fingers trailing along the edges of the shard as if it were a delicate treasure.

Meg whimpered, flinching as he tilted the shard toward her face. The distorted reflection that appeared in its surface made your breath hitch. It wasn’t just her face—it was a fractured version of her, revealing her deepest insecurities, her doubts, and fears. Her lips trembled as she stared at the cruel image, her reflection seeming to cry out silently as if begging for release.

"You see," he murmured, his voice quiet yet cutting, "this is what you truly are. Flawed. Fragile. Broken beyond repair."

Meg tried to look away, but he held the shard steady, forcing her to confront the image.

And then, with cold, unflinching precision, he drove the shard into her chest.

Her body arched with a strangled cry, her breath coming out in shallow gasps as the mirror shard pierced her heart.

Meg's movements stilled, her eyes glassy as the frost crept across her skin. He remained kneeling over her, watching as her life slipped away, the satisfaction in his expression subtle but unmistakable.

Standing slowly, he looked down at her lifeless body, his frosted hands carefully wiping the shard clean. He inspected it briefly, as if ensuring it was free of imperfection before tucking it away.

Then, he turned to you.

His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“You however,” he said softly, his voice like frost creeping over glass, “are nothing like that.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as he began to move toward you, his steps slow and deliberate.

“So perfect,” he continued, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But even perfection can be elevated.”

He stopped just a few feet away, his presence overwhelming as he tilted his head. “How much more beautiful you’d be…” His voice dipped, a cold whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “…as part of the ice.”

Before you could move, before you could even think, he was on you. His cold hand pressed against your shoulder, driving you back until your spine hit the wall with a muted thud. The opposing sensations—his cold and the warmth your body clung to—warred within you, leaving you frozen in more ways than one.

His gloved hand remained firm on your shoulder, holding you in place, while his other hand brushed against your cheek. The frost that followed his touch bloomed across your skin like a winter’s kiss, cold yet strangely… soothing.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, each word curling around you like an arctic breeze. “The warmth of life… fighting so desperately against the cold I bring.”

He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your skin like a whisper of frost. “It’s beautiful… the way your body responds. How it resists, yet…” He tilted his head, “you don’t pull away.”

Your teeth chattered as you tried to speak, but no words came.

“You’re so… fragile,” he continued, his voice soft yet laced with a dangerous edge. “So alive. And yet…” His hand moved from your cheek to trail along your jawline, his touch featherlight but freezing. “…it would take so little to turn you into something eternal. A perfect sculpture of ice.”

Your chest heaved as you struggled to keep your composure, the weight of his words sinking in. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours now, his cold breath mingling with your warm exhalations.

“But not yet,” he whispered, his lips curling into that same pleased smirk. “Not when you’re this… captivating.”

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he suddenly stepped back, releasing you. The frost clinging to your skin and the wall behind you melted away almost instantly, leaving you trembling.

He turned away without another word, his presence still heavy in the air. For a moment, you thought he was leaving you, but then he glanced over his shoulder, his icy gaze piercing through you.

“Run,” he said softly, the word laced with chilling intent. “Let’s see how long that warmth of yours can last.”

Your breath hitched as the word settled in the air like a command, and without hesitation, your body obeyed. You pushed off the wall and bolted.

A sharp whoosh cut through the air, and you instinctively ducked, feeling the chilling breeze of his mirror shard slicing the air just behind you. It didn’t hit you—no, it never did—but it was close enough to send shivers crawling up your spine. He wasn’t trying to injure you. He wanted you to feel the cold, to know how close he was, to remind you that you were his to chase.

You rounded a corner, vaulting over a low counter in a desperate attempt to create some distance, but when you landed on the other side, his red light loomed just behind you. A low, cold laugh followed, echoing in the empty halls.

You made a sharp turn, vaulting over another obstacle, and finally, finally, you saw someone. A flash of movement—another survivor! Relief flooded through you as they ran toward you, their eyes wide with panic.

It was Jake.

He looked at you, then past you, his expression hardening as he realized who was chasing you. Without a word, he stepped forward, drawing the killer’s attention as you scrambled to the side, ducking into another hallway.

You hesitated for just a moment, watching as the killer’s calm gaze shifted to Jake. He didn’t speak this time, but there was something in his posture as if he were almost… displeased at the interruption.

Jake shouted, waving his arms to draw the killer further away. “Come one!” he yelled.

With one last glance, you turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, the sound of their footsteps fading behind you.

Eventually you found a dark, quiet corner where you could catch your breath.

You slumped against the wall, your body trembling from adrenaline and the lingering chill of his presence. Jake had bought you time, but you knew it wouldn’t last forever.

You stumbled into another corridor, your heart still racing as you scanned the area. The faint hum of a generator reached your ears, and you followed it like a lifeline. Turning a corner, your eyes landed on a half-finished generator sitting in the middle of a secluded room. Relief washed over you.

Quickly, you moved to it, crouching down and setting to work. Your hands shook, partially from the cold and partially from the lingering adrenaline, but you forced yourself to focus.

You flinched at the sudden distant sound of a scream. Someone had gone down—it was hard to tell who in the chaos of the trial—but you couldn’t think about that now.

Finally, the generator sparked to life, the room lighting up with the mechanical glow and you allowed yourself a small, shaky exhale of victory.

But then, the warmth in the air shifted.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as the icy feeling grew stronger. You froze in place, barely breathing, your eyes darting around the room.

The ground near your feet began to frost over, thin trails of ice spreading across the floor.

Panic surged through you, and your eyes scanned the room desperately. There—a locker, tucked into the corner. Without hesitation, you sprinted for it, careful to avoid making too much noise. You slipped inside and shut the door as quietly as you could, pressing your back against the wooden wall.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from making a sound, every muscle in your body tensing as the steps grew louder, closer. The frost crept higher on the walls, spiderwebbing like cracks in a mirror.

You crouched lower in the locker, your eyes fixed on the small gaps in the slats. Through them, you could see his figure moving closer, the frost trailing in his wake. It spread across the walls, over the floor, and finally, onto the locker itself.

You could feel the chill seeping through, making the air inside colder and colder. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried desperately to stay silent, but the icy metal at your back made it nearly impossible to stay still.

Through the small gaps, you watched as he stopped right in front of the locker. He stood there for a moment, his back partially turned, scanning the room.

You thought he might leave, but then he turned back, facing the locker directly, standing perfectly still, only inches away from where you were hiding. For a moment, he seemed to just stand there, listening, the silence pressing down like a weight.

The frost continued to spread, climbing up the locker door and along its edges. The cold bit into your skin, making you shiver involuntarily. And that was your mistake.

The faintest sound of your breath slipping past your lips was enough.

His head tilted slightly, his sharp blue eye narrowing as he leaned forward. From the small gap, you could see his mouth curl into a smirk.

“I know you’re in there,” he said, his voice a soft, chilling whisper that made the frost seem warmer in comparison.

You stiffened, pressing your back harder against the frozen wood as he tapped a single finger on the locker door. “Are we playing hide-and-seek now?” he continued, his tone laced with amusement. “I thought you’d know by now—” he paused, leaning closer, so close that you swore his frosty breath was fogging the slats, “—I always win.”

For a horrifying moment, you thought he was going to rip the door open, his hand hovering close. But instead, he straightened up, taking a step back.

You let out a shaky breath, thinking for a second that he might leave. But then he raised his mirror shard and dragged it lightly against the edge of the locker door, the screech of ice making you wince.

“You know,” he began, his voice smooth and quiet, almost too calm, “there’s something about you… something that exhilarates me.” He let out a low chuckle, dragging the shard along the door one last time before stopping. “I’ve encountered many survivors, and they all blur together after a while. But you…” He paused, leaning closer so his breath frosted the slats of the locker. “You’re not like that.”

You could barely breathe, your entire body frozen—not from the cold, but from his words. The way he spoke wasn’t like the other killers you’d faced. There was no mockery, no irritation at your defiance.

“You’re so... special,” he murmured, the shard now resting against the locker as if he were caressing it. “Every time I see you, it’s like I’m looking at something perfect.” He chuckled again, low and chilling. “It makes me want to keep you forever. Preserve that beauty. Make it mine.”

Your heart stopped as his words sunk in, your breath caught in your throat. Before you could think to do anything—before you could even try to scramble or scream—the door to the locker swung open.

“Caught you,” he said softly, as if this was nothing more than a game.

You gasped as his arms reached in, effortlessly grabbing you. The frost where his hands touched your skin seeped into you immediately.

“Struggling won’t help,” he said, almost teasingly, as you tried to push against him. “Not that I want you to. I quite like the way you tremble.”

Before you could protest, he hoisted you up with a strength that made your attempts at resistance seem laughable. Your world tilted as he threw you over his shoulder, his grip firm but not painful. Before he started walking through the lab, while you squirmed in his hold, but it was no use.

--

Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, he shifted you off his shoulder and set you down with surprising care onto a cold, metal control table in the center of the lab. The frost beneath his boots crept up the legs of the table, spreading like spiderwebs across the surface and surrounding you in a halo of icy mist.

You tried to sit up, but he leaned forward, his hand pressing against your shoulder to keep you in place. “You’re quite predictable, you know,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a tinge of amusement. “Always fighting. Always running. But here you are under me again.”

His lips curved into that same faint, knowing smirk that made your chest tighten. He shifted slightly closer, his free hand resting on the edge of the table, boxing you in.

“You’re the last one left again,” he murmured, almost like he was savoring the words. “Everyone else has fallen. And yet… here you are. Stubborn as ever.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. The others were gone. You were the last survivor again, and there was still one generator left to finish.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, your pulse thundering in your ears as you glanced around the room, searching desperately for some kind of opening, anything to get away. But his body blocked most of your view, and the frost on the walls behind him seemed to spread as if sealing off any potential escape.

“Such a mouth,” he teased, his voice almost a whisper now, his frosty breath grazing your lips. “But I like your fire. It makes it so much more satisfying to snuff it out.”

His hand moved slowly to rest on your chest, the chill of his touch sinking deep into your skin. A shiver ran down your spine as you watched in wide-eyed disbelief. Frost spread outward from where his palm met your chest, intricate patterns blooming like frozen flowers across your skin. It didn’t feel painful—it was cold, yes, but strangely gentle, almost mesmerizing. You couldn’t help but stare at the crystalline designs etching themselves over you.

“You see?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, laced with a quiet satisfaction. “Perfection.”

Your gaze snapped up to meet his as he stepped back slightly. His free hand rose, tugging at the edge of his cracked mirror mask. With a deliberate, almost theatrical motion, he removed it, letting the light fully illuminate his face for the first time.

He was… beautiful. His features were sharp and striking, carved with the same precision as the frost he wielded. A few thin scars adorned his face, faint but noticeable. His eyes glowed faintly, studying you intently, as though you were some kind of masterpiece he’d just completed.

“You complement me so perfectly now,” he said softly, as his eyes lingered on the frost spreading over your skin. His gaze was equal parts admiration and possessiveness, as if you were a creation he had shaped with his own hands.

You wanted to speak, to tell him to stop, to push him away, but the words caught in your throat. There was something about the way he looked at you that made it impossible to move.

“You’re so beautiful” he continued, his cold fingers tracing a line along the frost-covered patterns on your arms. “Now… now you’re mine. A canvas perfected by my touch.”

Your breathing hitched as his hand paused, his icy fingertips resting just over your racing pulse. His face was so close now that you could feel the frost in his breath, mingling with the warmth of yours.

“You’ve always stood out,” he said, his tone softening, almost tender. “Among all the others, you are the only one worth keeping.” As his hand rested on your chest, he leaned closer, his lips curling into a faint smile. “I wonder,” he mused softly, his voice almost a whisper now, “how much more beautiful you’ll be… once the ice fully claims you.”

Before you could react, he leaned in, his cold lips pressing against yours. The icy chill of his kiss sent a jolt through your body, and you gasped sharply, the frost on your skin seeming to tighten as if it were alive, responding to his touch. His lips, though cold, were strangely soft it left you reeling, unsure whether to pull away or melt into it.

His hands moved swiftly, capturing yours as your instincts kicked in to push him away. He intertwined his fingers with yours, locking them together. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was firm, as though he was making sure you wouldn’t escape. The frost from his hands seeped into yours, spreading the intricate, shimmering patterns further up your arms.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could see his breath crystallizing in the cold air between you. “You even sound so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though sharing a secret meant only for you. His thumbs brushed lightly over the backs of your hands, sending another shiver coursing through your body. “I could get used to hearing the sounds i could get out of you.”

You tried to tug your hands free, but his fingers tightened slightly, holding you there. “Why fight it?” he whispered, tilting his head, his tone almost coaxing. “You belong here. With me. Look at yourself—you’re already becoming part of the ice.”

Your gaze flickered downward for a moment, catching the glittering frost climbing your arms, wrapping around your wrists like delicate, frozen chains. It was as if the cold itself was claiming you, binding you to him.

“Don’t you see?” he continued, his voice filled with a chilling certainty. “No one else could ever understand your beauty the way I do. No one else could ever deserve you.”

His hands tightened just slightly around yours, pulling you closer as his lips brushed against your ear. “Let me show you how much you mean to me,” he whispered, his breath icy against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine.

His hands suddenlt slid to the hem of your sweater, the cold of his fingers making your breath hitch as he slowly pulled the fabric upward. The icy chill wrapped around you like a second skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

As the fabric bunched up, exposing more of your skin, you felt his lips brush against your stomach—a fleeting, ghostly kiss that left a trail of frost in its wake. His kisses were cold but delicate, as if he were crafting something beautiful out of your very existence. The frost spread wherever his lips touched, etching intricate, crystalline patterns onto your skin like a frozen work of art.

You shivered, your teeth threatening to chatter as the frost claimed more of you, but the chill didn’t burn.

“You don’t even realize how perfect you are, do you?” he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing along the curve of your collarbone. His voice was softer now, almost tender. “Each mark I leave… it suits you. Makes you mine.”

His hands trailed along your sides, the frost blooming under his touch like winter flowers. You gasped softly as his lips pressed against your chest, leaving behind more intricate frost.

“I could cover every inch of you,” he continued, his voice deepening as he leaned back to admire his handiwork. His eyes sparkled with an unearthly glow as they traced the frosty designs now covering your skin. “You were made for this. For me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to say something, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours so faintly it was maddening. “Don’t fight it,” he whispered, his voice as chilling as his touch. “You’re already mine.”

The frost tightened its hold on you, the cold sinking deeper into your skin as if binding you to him, you couldn’t tell whether it was fear or something else entirely keeping you from pulling away.

a/n: my mom is sick so i was filling up a hot water bag but i squeezed too tight so i spilled the water on my chest :p pray my piercing dont get irritated...

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[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞❝

[ Ace | Kid | Law | Doffy ] Summary » Get down on your knees, sweetie and hold on tight. He will make you feel how much he wants you and give you what you need, you dirty girl. pssst... you don't have to be in a relationship to have your first time ;) Warnings » Mature content - "BDSM" - rough sex - rape »»» If you have problems with he content marked in red, please don't read the part with Doflamingo <3 - NO PROOFREADING -

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Law, Kid, Doffy : xuchuan/序川_ | Ace: kameoka908

A/N: The results of the last poll showed that this was the topic you wanted most. I can understand that (you naughty ones, lol), but I think it's sad that "He confesses his love?!" didn't win... *puts it in drafts anyway*

Some songs I heard while writing 🔥 ; Ari Abdul - Girls On The Internet / Mickey Valen - Chills (feat. Joey Myron) / Kailee Morgue - Siren / Shaker - BODY

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃. 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰

[ 2086 words ]

Without any understanding of what is happening around you, you kneel on the floor with your hands tied behind your back.

A blindfold prevents you from seeing what Law is planning to do to you, his steps are barely audible but you turn your head every time you hear a small sound.

The cold air wraps around your exposed body like silk, hardening your nipples and the only thing you can hear is the clacking sound of Law's shoes, while he circles around you like a predator.

Your breathing is a little heavy and nervous, waiting for something to happen, for Law to touch you, but Law just enjoys the sight.

He crouches down behind you, whispering in your ear with his deep yet calm voice, with no intention of touching you.

“Just for the record, you really want this, y/n-ya?”

Shivers run down your spine, making your heart beat faster, because his calm voice carries something commanding, something dangerous... something that makes you addicted.

“Y-Yes…” You whisper.

The corners of his mouth turn up into a dirty grin and he stands up again, leaving you kneeling on the cold floor.

"We'd better keep this between the two of us, you understand that, right?" His voice seems a little further away and shortly afterwards you hear something that sounds like rubber snapping against skin.

He slowly walks towards you again, his eyes wandering along your fine curves illuminated by the bright lamps, while he unbuttons his shirt to take it off.

“Yes…” you say quietly but this time with a firm undertone.

You can hardly believe how you both came to this, but you know that when you leave this room again, you have to pretend it never happened.

After all, this is not a passionate encounter between you… More like one between doctor and patient... although it looks a bit bizarre, but Law is just doing you a favor.

At least that's what you think, since there were never any kind of romantic signs between you… despite the fact that you have feelings for him, but you don't think he'll reciprocate.

“How are your knees? Do they hurt?” - “No, they don't.” You adjust yourself briefly, the long kneeling is indeed making itself felt, but somehow you like kneeling before him like a prisoner… without defense, just as nature created you…

and placed under the light of the infirmary.

It feels really good...

“Good girl.” His voice hums and excitement rises in you. You can literally hear the smile on his lips, while you neither know where he really is nor what he's up to.

Standing just a step in front of you, Law looks down at you as you stare cluelessly ahead, not really realizing that he's standing right in front of you.

"Look up at me, y/n-ya" You are taken aback by the near sound of his voice and just as he commands, you tilt your head back and look up.

“Good girl.” His praise makes you feel weak inside and the tingling in your stomach grows stronger towards your longing little cunt.

A feeling that you've missed so much and why you're both here...

It was certainly unpleasant to talk to Law about the fact that you have difficulty getting aroused, but you never dreamed it would come to this.

You had rather thought that there was a drug similar to viagra. A stimulant that would increase the humidity in your cave, but Law had a different idea. This one…

He crouches down and grabs your chin, watching you breathe heavily through your nose at the sudden touch and brushes his thumb over your bottom lip.

The feeling of the latex gloves is a little foreign, but you can feel the warmth of his hand. He presses a little against your teeth, causing you to open your mouth and welcome his thumb into your hot mouth.

As if under hypnosis, you suck on his finger and hear a satisfied hum from Law. He changes his finger and you greedily run your tongue around it.

“You're such a good girl…”

His finger leaves your mouth and strokes down your neck to your belly, leaving a wet trail of saliva behind.

His hand moves further down and you suck in your breath as he briefly runs two fingers through your puffy folds. The sudden touch pierces through your body and makes you aching for more.

Unfortunately for you, he prefers to take his time with you, which he obviously enjoys. Who could blame him?

Your somewhat nervous demeanor only makes the sight more arousing and every little reaction from you brings a little flicker to his eyes.

All you can feel is Law's hand on your back and then he suddenly picks you up. Since you can't see anything, everything happens a little too fast, making you feel like you've been thrown off balance.

He takes a few steps with you and sets you down on a cool, metallic surface. The faint smell of disinfectant hits your nose. You must be sitting on the operating table, you suspect.

Law spreads your legs wide, thinking he could take you here and now if he wanted to, since the table has the perfect height, but he wants to hear you beg for it.

His hands caress the inside of your thighs and pass close to your core, over to your pelvis. These indirect but intense touches make you insane, the burning in your center increases and you move your butt desperately back and forth.

Law's deep laugh fills the room as his hand moves over your hips to your breasts.

"You're a needy little girl, aren't you y/n-ya?"

You're a little embarrassed. The way you respond to his touch, you couldn't say that you have a problem with getting aroused.

No matter what you tried to get yourself in the mood, you didn't get wet. At first it helped to think about Law, but at some point even that wasn't enough.

“I need you Law…” Came quietly from your lips. Somewhat perplexed, Law stopped in his tracks. It took him a second to process what was coming from your sweet lips.

He runs his tongue over his lips while looking into your blushing face

“Oh yeah, you need me, y/n-ya?” Your name in his mouth sounds dirtier than usual and he gently strokes your sensitive nipples.

Overwhelmed by the wet feeling of his tongue on your breast, you hum softly and nod your head.

A little bite in your nipple makes you twitch.

"Say it, y/n-ya." he demands of you, his breath on your skin and two fingers on your nipple pinching it.

“Ahh hah, I need you Law!” You whimper with excitement rather than pain.

"Yeah, I knew you needed me." His voice becomes a little darker and confident.

You try to lean back a little and support yourself with your hands, but the ropes make it a little difficult. Despite the pain, you don't let it stop you from enjoying Law's gentle kisses between your breasts and you let your head fall back.

Your soft moans fill the room as Law teases your nipples with his tongue while one hand strokes your thigh up and down, always a little closer to your pussy.

Instinctively your hips move back and forth in response to his stimulating touch, leaving your body aching for more.

Law placed his thumb between your folds and began to circle over your clit. Sliding slowly down a little to glide over your hole with light pressure. By this point your pussy is so wet, that he literally slips through your puffy folds, making your cunt produce lewd noises.

"Tell me, were you this wet, when you thought about me in your bed?" Your body tenses, not daring to speak as his deep voice fills your ear. Law has to smirk a little at how cravingly you squish your pussy into his gloved hand.

"The way you moaned my name made me almost go crazy, you know y/n-ya? It cost me a lot not to barge into your room…"

You bite your lower lip… Did he eavesdrop on you?

"Were you no longer satisfied at some point and that's why you came to me…" The pace of his fingers between your lips increased, raising the heat in your chest.

“…because you need me?” With your brain running at full capacity to process all these feelings, the only thing that comes out of your lips is an unrestrained moan.

He praises you repeatedly, calling you his 'good girl' while leaving a trail of kisses all the way down your belly.

He takes in the sight of your lovely swollen puss, feeling the tension in his pants.

“Such a beautiful pussy…” he whispers as he drops his pants. His breath brushes over your cunt and makes it twitch slightly. He grabs you by the lower legs and pulls you towards him while you struggle to keep your balance.

Slowly, he runs his warm tongue between your lovely lips and gently strokes your clitoris. He enjoys you to the full while his slow movements drive you over the edge.

You would like to grab his head and push him closer to feel some relief, but the ropes prevent you from doing so.

“Law I want you!” You moan, longing for relief.

His slow tongue strokes are warm and the even pressure is tickling your nerves. He licks your sweet spot one last time with his tongue before he fulfills your wish.

He eagerly places his magnificent piece at your entrance and smears himself with a mixture of his spit and your juice as he strokes his tip through your folds.

"Do you want me to thrust my dick inside you?" he asks you in a raspy voice. You nod your head enthusiastically, but Law leaves you waiting, to enjoy the sight of his cock sliding effortlessly through your soft lobes.

All of a sudden he violently pushes into you and his name escapes your lips. He pushes his whole length into your pussy hole, making it difficult for you to hold yourself with your tied hands.

Law notices your misery and reaches for the ropes to untie them as he penetrates your tight hole over and over again.

With your mouth slightly open, you try to get your rapid breathing under control, but the sensation caused by Law's movements is overwhelming.

His fast and deep thrusts bring you closer towards your climax and you can barely keep up with the moans.

"Uhh, Law… mhh I think I'm gonna cum!"

But before you can reach your orgasm, Law pulls out and leaves you feeling empty.

You whimper a few incomprehensible words and beg him to fill you up again. Law, who just wanted to delay his own orgasm, dives into you again but this time starts to pleasure you with slow and steady thrusts.

You start massaging your breasts with your hands, which drives Law insane. You squeeze and pinch both your nipples, unable to see how Law watches you with satisfaction in his eyes.

Suddenly, Law grabs your blindfold and rips it off your face. You have to blink a few times to get used to the bright light but quickly your attention is focused on the way you are being fucked by Law.

With his lips slightly parted, he struggles to breathe but his eyes are fixed on you as you fondle your bare breasts.

Watching him fuck the soul out of your body gives you a little reminder of what's happening in reality. With the blindfold you had a sort of distance from what was going on between you, as if you were being fucked by a stranger.

It was exciting, but watching Law, as he enjoys thrusting his hips into you, is even more exciting.

You barely managed to hold on to Law's shoulders as he lifted you up while his member was still inside you.

Automatically you wrap your legs around his hips and with his hands on your butt he moves you up and down, on his dick in a gentle motion.

Moaning, you nestle against his neck and enjoy the feeling of his hot skin on your naked chest.

𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐃. 𝐀𝐜𝐞

[ 576 words ]

A/N: Ace is really short, sorry. I'll make up for it soon with a spicy OneShot :D

Both of you, completely out of breath, try to keep the noise to a minimum. If someone catches you, bad rumors will spread around the ship, but you can't resist Ace any longer.

In a storage room, you cling to Ace who lavishes you with a thousand kisses on your neck. Usually no one ever comes in here because there's nothing but useless junk, but the thrill of being caught is pretty exciting.

Again and again you remind each other to be quiet as your lips fall over each other.

The way he grabs your breasts and strokes your hips tells you that he's greedy for more. Greedy for you.

And you are just as greedy. Your hands run curiously over his chest, feeling every muscle. His body is burning hot, so hot that you need to get out of your clothes quickly and as you reach for the hem of your top, Ace is happy to help you free yourself from your clothes.

Stripped of your clothes, you explore each other's bodies in the dark storage room without parting your lips for once.

All you can feel is how Ace traces soft kisses down your neck all the way down to your wet pussy. You lift one leg and try to support yourself against the wall while Ace runs his warm tongue through your folds.

“Mhmh, y/n, you taste so good.”

He grabs your buttocks while he devours your pussy juices and moans in pleasure along with you. You grab his black hair and move your hips to his licking movements.

His warm tongue is truly talented and you enjoy how evenly and slowly he strokes through your folds. Over and over again he presses his tongue against your hole only to then skillfully stroke your sweet little clit.

“Mhmm Ace, please put it in.” you whimper a little. You want to feel him inside you.

He turns you to face the wall and lifts one of your legs. You immediately stick your butt out towards him and feel his massive erection on your ass, just waiting to explore your soft hole.

He guides his big friend to your entrance and you both moan in pleasure as he slides it inside you. For a brief moment, he lingers in the position where he has his entire member inside you. Your walls wrap around him so comfortably tight.

Surely but slowly he starts to penetrate you.

If you had known how big he was, you would have let him touch you much earlier, but well, better later than never…

With Ace's hands firmly on your hips, he guides you towards him again and again with force. Both your breaths are ragged and you keep forgetting that you could be just a moment away from being caught.

His hand finds its way along your skin to your breast and massages it gently. He pulls you a little closer so that you arch your back and he peppers your neck with lots of hot kisses. You feel your hair standing straight

You feel your hair stand straight and you happily surrender to his every touch, feeling tempted to disappear into this little secret chamber more often. With Ace, of course.

Just as you are both getting closer to climaxing, without any control over your voices, you hear footsteps from outside that you don't register at all.

“Hello, is anyone in there?”

𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨

[ 2344 words ]

All kinds of gorgeous women are lined up in a row, including you. In the beginning your group was much larger, but a few women have already been sorted out by Diamante, one of the king's three highest officers. Women who might not be to the king's taste.

Dressed in skimpy clothes, you stand in a large hall in the castle and wait for Doflamingo to appear. The king has once again tortured his last toy to death and demands to see all the unmarried women in the kingdom...

Frightened, you stand between women who confidently assume that they could win the king's heart, but you know that he has no heart.

The massive door opens and the man in question walks in. He walked past all the women without even glancing at them, while a few ladies lost their composure due to excitement.

You pray that he doesn't choose you… That maybe he won't choose anyone, because no one catches his interest. But unfortunately for you, he stops right in front of you and turns to face you.

“You look scared…” There's something crazy about the smile on his face and you don't dare move a muscle.

He grabs your chin and looks at your face. Your widened eyes stare at him in fear, you try to avoid his gaze but he forces you to look into your horrified reflection in his glasses.

“I'll take that.” he announces and disappears from the hall again. Tears well up in your eyes as you realize that he doesn't even see you as a human being. You're just an object he pleasures himself with until you break.

Servants come quickly and lead you through the long corridors without talking to you. Everything seems so foreign to you and you don't dare say a word…

You don't really want to know what's happening to you now. Even though you know exactly what is going to happen, you want to block it out, maybe there will be a chance to escape, but that chance didn't arise…

The maids bathed you, perfumed you and applied expensive lotions to make your skin soft and smooth. After they put you in a silky nightgown, which to your surprise was quite pretty rather than slutty, they led you to the attached bedchamber.

They made you sit on the huge bed, on which you felt a little lost because it was so big, and guarded you. Their eyes are cold and reserved on you, but earlier, when they bathed you and you cried, the pity in their eyes was obvious.

You feel like a doll that has been glammed up to please the king and now you have to wait for him to come and play with you…

You think of your family and friends that you will probably never see again and fight back your tears. You're a bit scared, especially because it's your first time...

The double doors of the room open and you don't even have to look up to know who is entering. His wicked chuckle is easy to recognize and you clench your fists to hide your shaking hands.

"Fufufu - How nicely they've arranged you for me."

His frame casts a shadow over you that makes you look up at him slowly. Your frightened demeanor amuses him, causing him to smile maliciously and he places his knee on the bed, coming close to you.

"Get out." He spoke without taking his eyes off you and the maids quickly hurried out of the room.

There you are now. Alone with Doflamingo.

You clutch the pink silk sheets and grit your teeth. With all your might you try not to look too afraid, but Doflamingo can literally taste that you are tense.

“Why are you so scared? fufufu.” There's something poisonous about his voice, something that makes you shudder. The closer he gets to you, the more you scoot backwards to keep your distance.

What you should know is that Doflamingo enjoys this game of cat and mouse. You are his prey and he will definitely snatch you. The way you wiggle backwards into the many cushions is simply entertaining.

Your heart skips a beat as you realize that you can't get any further back, because the head of the bed is behind you.

You don't even have the nerve to think about how you can convince Doflamingo not to sleep with you while he's reaching for you. But do you really think you can convince him with your words? Probably not.

He will make use of your body and nothing can stop him, you are sure of that. That's why you just sit in front of him, like a scared little bunny, making itself smaller and smaller.

His fingers go through your hair and holds it up to his nose. You stare stiffly at him as he savors your scent.

“Ahhh…” He moans satisfied and brushes your hair against his cheek "Your scent is so bewitching, I fucking love it." You swallow hard. You want to scream but you're afraid to make even the slightest noise.

“But you know what I love even more? The fear in your eyes.”

He grabs you roughly by the chin and forces you to look up at him. You breathe anxiously through your nose.

He is crazy.

You manage to gain control of your body and push him away from you. Surprisingly, he allows you to do so.

“Are you scared? Fufufu…” He leans back a little and looks down at your pathetic figure as he removes his shirt. You avoid his gaze and turn your face downwards.

You feel uncomfortable that he's making fun of you like this. His long index finger appears in your field of vision and Doflamingo lifts your chin.

"Don't be afraid, I can start by myself if you like." His voice is calm and a little teasing but the words he says sound lewd, something you're not used to.

You shyly dare to take a look at his upper body. His abs are nicely tanned and well trained. Surely, if he wasn't such a sick man, he would be every woman's dream.

You watch him as he unzips his pink pants allowing his long member to finally escape the prison of his tight pants. You swallow a little. This size is definitely not for beginners…

“Fufufu… Are you that hungry to swallow like this; or are you just shocked?"

Caught off guard, you look up at him. You didn't realize that Doflamingo was someone observing you so closely. Nervously, you bite your lip.

You had rather expected him to pounce on you and tear your clothes off, but he just sits in front of you and undresses himself with no hurry, while you ogle at his body with uncertainty.

Suddenly he rushes towards you and leans over you, stroking his member with one hand. Startled, you grab the blanket with both hands and press yourself into the mattress, hoping it will swallow you whole.

You try to avoid any kind of physical contact and close your legs. Unfortunately, Doflamingo forces his leg between them before you can do so.

“Don't be shy, dear.” He runs his tongue over his lips as if he wants to devour you and you turn your head to the side. You look around the room, the only option is to make a run for your life, as fast as you can, but will you be fast enough?

Doflamingo straightens up and strokes your thigh lovingly, gushing over the sight of you. You look so pathetic the way you desperately try to figure your escape.

It's written all over your face that you're scared. Probably not scared enough to make smart decisions, because you jump up, push Doflamingo away and run for the door.

You don't have the nerve to even notice that Doflamingo doesn't move a bit. He just laughs his nasty laugh. Just before you can reach for the doorknob, several thin strings wrap around you and hold you in place.

You try to defend yourself and stretch towards the door, but you quickly realize that the strands are cutting into your skin and blood starts to flow in some places.

Before you know it, Doflamingo is standing behind you and grabs you roughly by the neck, throwing you to the ground. He loosens your strings and applies pressure to your back with his foot.

It hurts. He presses his foot into your spine and when you try to support yourself from the ground, he crushes your head back down. Your tears gather. Why doesn't he just find someone who's into stuff like this?

“If you behave yourself, we'll both have a lot of fun…” His voice is no longer teasing, more threatening, as if you're going to die if you don't start acting good.

He grabs your arm and pulls you up. With one hand he makes a strange gesture and you immediately feel the strings tighten around your neck.

"If you're acting bad, I'll kill you." It gets tighter around your neck and you try to move as little as possible while you can't breathe.

You find yourself on the bed again and Doflamingo, who has completely separated from his pants right in front of the bed, looks down at you with a dark expression. His nasty smile has disappeared.

“It would be a shame if I had to kill you, so I hope you behave yourself.” His words leave you defenseless. If you deny him your body now, you will die. You swallow and look fearfully at where you suspect his eyes are.

“I… I'll b-behave.” Your voice is barely a whisper and shaky.

“Very good.” The corners of his mouth turn upwards and his strings loosen at your throat.

He kneels on the bed and pulls you closer using your thighs. His member lands on top of you and reaches your belly button. Aside from its length, you are concerned about its width. That's going to split you in two…

His big hand runs down your thigh, moving over to your stomach.

"The fabric looks gorgeous on your body." Unexpectedly gentle, he goes over your chest. The cool fabric of your nightgown stimulates your nipple and it stiffens.

However, it disgusts you that such tender touches belong to a loathsome man like him.

He grabs you by the neckline of your nightgown and literally rips the whole thing off your body. You flinch and try to cross your arms in front of your chest.

This sudden exposure makes your face flush crimson red. You feel his strings on your wrists and they pull your arms over your head.

“That's a nice sight.” You can't look at his messed up smile and close your eyes. You feel his cock throbbing against your body as he takes great pleasure in the way you try desperately to control your breathing without making a sound.

“Look at me.” His voice is cold and you widen your eyes, not daring to blink.

He strokes over your panties and applies a little pressure to your clit. Using slow circular movements, he caresses your little cunt, making it twitch. He runs his fingers over your skin with great tenderness and disappears under your underwear and his cold fingers make you twitch.

You curse yourself for feeling the pleasure of his touch. You're no stranger to such touches, you've done it to yourself before, but when someone else does it, it's a whole different story.

You bite your lip; surprisingly, he touches you just the way you like it. As if he knows your body all too well.

You tense your body. You don't want to be aroused by him, but unfortunately you are forced to realize that your body is moistening your folds all by itself.

"There is no point in resisting, my dear."

He pushes your underwear aside and places his member at your entrance. Your pleading looks only excite him even more and he stuffs his entire tip into your soft pussy. “N-no…! please don't.” you beg but he ignores you and continues to slowly drive his cock into you. The wetness of your cunt is barely enough for his shaft and you look down at yourself in pain, only to realize that he hasn't even come close to disappearing inside you.

Suddenly he stops.

“Fufufufufu… What do we have here? A virgin?” He licks his lips and rips his glasses off his face after discovering your blood on his member. He looks down at his cock and you are speechless about how his eyes can look even crazier than his smile does.

Your heart skips a beat as he looks directly into your pupils. His eyes are terrifying and more aggressive than you could have imagined.

“This seems to be my lucky day!” he gets louder. His laughter is maddening and without warning he thrusts his whole cock into your little hole. The pain tears you apart and you feel your warm blood running down your butt.

His thrusts are so fast that your whole body tenses up. Hoping that by resisting, you'll be able to stay focused and not go crazy from the adrenaline and pain.

Both the pain and the excitement of his hard thrusts drive you into madness. You let your head fall back and pray that it will end soon or you will find yourself passing out from the pain.

You feel stretched out and his movements are way too fast.

You can't even desperately hold on to the bed because your hands are still tied together over your head and so you let yourself be fucked into mad despair...

𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐝

[ 1675 words ]

It felt like it was the hundredth drunk guy grabbing your ass today. With a sudden yank, you hit the guy, while balancing a tablet with your other hand. The man was literally smashed into the ground and the floorboards broke... that's the kind of strength you have.

Drunk men are disgusting, bleurgh...

"Get your hands off me you disgusting bastard!" You wave your hand a little and blow it as you feel the heat from the impact, suppressing a smile as you look at the mark on the guy's face.

Your own hand is starting to hurt, after all the punches you've thrown at men today. You give the drunkard a disgusted face and waddle back to the bar.

You watch his comrades angrily, as they try to pick up the guy who's been knocked out and polish a few glasses.

However, that's your job and your life isn't a dream come true. You're lucky that Madame Lingerie took you in and raised you… even though it was in a brothel.

From one of the other tables, loud laughter exploded, drawing your attention to the noisy people.

A large, broadly built man with a body covered in scars and fiery red hair sat in the middle of the seating area. On both sides of him are one of the most beautiful prostitutes from the house, laughing with him about the show you put on in front of everyone.

Eustass Kid. A name that is very well known in this world.

You try to avoid the looks he gives you and clean up behind the bar. You certainly don't need approval from a pirate… and yet you catch yourself glancing over at them, every now and then.

"Hey woman, bring me two beers and sit with me!" He shouts over to you. You straighten your back and look over at him with furrowed brows. Casually you put one hand on your hip while giving him a challenging grin.

“My humble self is not for entertainment Eustass.” Your smile is sassy and Kid bursts out laughing.

“Entertainment? How about some company? You surely need a little break." He shows his teeth while flashing you a big smile.

Well, you have to admit that his devious manner is quite captivating. Something about the way he smiles crookedly at you is quite attractive. Finally someone who can be a pleasant challenge.

Without breaking eye contact, you tap him a new beer, but not a second one. You're sure the second one is for you. It's charming that he buys you a drink, but you prefer something else. You quickly mix yourself your favorite drink and go over to his table.

"Well, I don't see a spot available here." You stand casually with your drinks in your hand. He invites you to join him, but there's not even room for you? His drunken crew members look at you mischievously, too mischievously for your taste. Kid smirks and pats his thigh.

"You're looking for a seat? I've got one right here for you." He laughs at you challengingly. A little stunned, you blink at him but start to run your tongue over your teeth in a combative manner.

“Oh? Two beautiful women by your side aren't enough for you, so you need a third?” You put the drinks down on the table and cross your arms in front of your chest. You're not one of the girls he can pick… Apart from that, you wouldn't like to share.

“Killer, will you take these two for me? I need some space here…” He pushes the ladies away, but they have no problem leaving with Killer.

"Be careful y/n, Kid is a rough man..." one of the girls winks at you as they walk past and you roll your eyes.

If only you knew what she meant by that…

You'd love to blame it on the alcohol that you ended up on his ship but the truth is that the chemistry between you was just too good. You could literally feel the sexual attraction between you.

Making out like crazy, the two of you almost fall into his cabin and with eager hands you run over his chest. You rarely part your hot lips to catch your breath.

His hands reach around you and he lifts you up to carry you over to a table and place you on it without letting go of your lips once. You impatiently try to free yourself from your jacket and draw a deep laugh from Kid.

“Someone wants to get down to business quickly.” - “Shut up and get out of your pants!” You hiss at him and give him a little bite on the lip.

Impatiently, you grab his pants and fumble with his belt but Kid grabs your hand and pulls you away. With just a few quick moves, he turns you around and pushes you onto the table so that your butt is facing him.

He takes his time to enjoy the sight how your leather pants frame your round ass. He loves leather. He kneads and strokes your curves, occasionally giving you a small but tender slap on the ass. A dirty laugh escapes your lips as you look at him over your shoulder.

"So, do you like what you see? Wait till you see my ass without pants.” His eyes move from your ass to your face and a naughty smile adorns his face.

"That's not going fast enough for me." Is all he says before he rips your pants off.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” You try to turn around but Kid holds you down. A little tearfully you mourn your leather pants. They had served you well and now you're going to end up like this? Poor pants.

But your mourning comes to an quick end. Kid slaps your booty vigorously with his hand, causing a resounding noise to echo through the silent room. You feel his handprint precisely and even though it was a bit tingly at first, you feel a growing warmth in your core.

Again and again he reaches for your butt and decorates your skin with red marks of his hand. Each stroke sends you into a frenzy, an overwhelming pain that is both pleasant and humiliating.

In addition, you like to let him hear how much you enjoy his rough behavior and moan without holding back.

"Well you dirty little bitch, you like that?"

You grind your teeth. You're obviously into it. Annoyed and full of lust, you wiggle your ass at him.

"Come on you fucking pirate and just fuck me!" You growl at him. You want sex and you want it now.

To your delight, you hear a clinking sound, a belt buckle opening and shortly afterwards the muffled sound of his pants falling to the floor.

But before he just fucks you, you want to have some fun with him first. You turn around skillfully and get straight down on your knees.

You bite your lip and grin broadly when you see his huge cock. "Delicious." you say in a seductive voice as you look him in the eye. Kid's cock grows instantly as you look at him with your naughty smile.

You caress his cock with your tongue, while moaning softly. His flesh feels so good and you notice how wet you get between your legs. Kid can't stand the sight of you and the feeling of your soft mouth for long and forces you back onto the desk.

With a look of excitement, you spread your legs and wrap your arms around his neck as he strokes his member over your squishy folds. Impatiently, you rub against him and relieve yourself with the pressure his stiff member causes on your clit.

His big hands literally dig into your thighs as he thrusts into you. With low and deep thrusts, he draws sounds of satisfaction from your lips and you let your head fall back.

You wrap your legs around his hips, wanting him even closer to you and pushing him deeper into you. His thick dick fills you up perfectly and the pressure he leaves inside you as he holds this position makes the hair on your arms stand up straight.

“You're pretty greedy, I like that.” He grunts between the thrusts he slams into you.

His hands grab your tits and he pulls and twirls your nipple. You've never been touched so roughly and hell, you never want to miss it again. He gives your breast a little slap and moans dirty words into your face.

“You little slut should be mine.” He grabs you by the throat, with his hand going around your neck with no problem. He doesn't squeeze too hard that you lose your breath, just enough to drive you fucking nuts.

Excited by his overwhelming dominance, you arch your back.

"Mmhm, what's in it for me?" You grab his arm, whose hand is still on your neck, and hold it in place. You like the submissive role.

“You'll get a mouthful of my cock, every night if you like.”

“Mhmm, that's not entirely convincing.” Even though you've discovered your submissive side, you don't want to miss out on the challenge.

You love to provoke him. Suddenly he lifts you up and bends you over the table.

“You like getting your butt slapped, don't you?” His fingers gently caress the curve of your ass.

"Hey, who said you could stop fucking me?" Your cheeky manner earns you a slap on the butt.

"Shut the fuck up." he roars threateningly as he massages the red spot on your ass.

“I'll make you mine, you'll have no say in the matter...” He spreads your legs and gives you a little slap on your puffy pussy.

“I have no objections.” You moan in satisfaction.

Weeehw. It's finally done I hope you enjoyed it. I definitely enjoyed it :3

Kiss kiss your yuri ♡

[canaidliafail]

roommates

Abby x f!reader x ellie 🌿 2.1k words

listen idk what demon possessed me but I had to write about a threeway relationship with ellabs in a college AU. Its just random scenes of what it would be like and theres filth so MDI

CW: voyerism I think, jealousy and abby and ellie being unhinged over reader [ like srsl ] , established relationship, mentions of alcohol & dealer ellie. not proof read, will never be. Say a prayer and go ahead and read idk

“In a moment you're getting the shivers

'Cause I know the way you feel

My body gives you chills”

•••

In college, rumors went around fast. Everyone knew that Cindy from chem had relapsed for the third time that year, that Alexander had hooked up with every exchange student, that Abby was probably that richest kid in the entire campus and that Ellie was the hottest lesbian dealer that lived in dormitory B5.

That along with the fact that Abby, Ellie and you were roommates. Manny and Dina had, on different occasions tried to get a hold of you and fill you in on how hot the gossip on the three of you were but it just failed to entertain you enough to listen.

You didn’t give a fuck actually. You were so blissfully content with your reality that you weren’t interested in knowing what everyone else's half assed version sounded like. Your girlfriends though were different. Abby and Ellie had the inseparable dynamic of oil and water. They just did not get along but they did find common sense when it came to you and they had to know what was going on. Blind and deep in love they forgot how they themselves were a prize and considered most people who approached you a threat.

Abby vaguely remembered a rumor when you three first started going out after Jesse's birthday. Ellie was the supplier that night and the girl that came by your dorm to pick up the stuff caught you two making out in the hallway. Ellie was a bit more flustered to be caught like that while you just rolled your eyes as if she was the problem invading your public space and walked inside your room, though back then, the girl assumed you were staying over at Ellie’s place. In the span of a week,the whole art department knew that Ellie allegedly had a girlfriend. That was until someone interrupted the conversation

“Wait, is Ellie's girl the one in sculpture ?You know she has a lot of tattoos and talks with Nora a lot?”

“Yeah her!”

“Well than she has to be cheating on her cause I saw her In Anderson's car the other night and they were like,going at it”

So other than “that girl with tattoos in sculpture major” you were also “The one two timing Ellie and Abby”

Abby didn’t know how much of a hot topic she was. She knew people talked but not about her. She was cooking and ellie was smoking weed on the kitchen counter keeping her company when you barged in your dorm room.

“You have to hear this” You said excitedly and tossed your bag on the couch and your shoes all over the hallway which Abby being a clean freak knew would have to organize by herself later that evening. You run up to them in the kitchen and Ellie out of habit spread her legs to let you in her space for a kiss. Which you didn’t really give but instead you took her blunt and took one long good puff.

“So I was talking with my friends and apparently there’s this rumor going around that I am cheating on Ellie williams with Abby anderson”

Abby stilled her hand while working with the pan and the stir fry food and she turned to look at Ellie the same moment that she did. They came to a silent agreement to solve this issue which you found quite embarrassing to think over in the first place. You couldn’t take problems like these seriously and hell, who doesn’t have people talking shit behind their back ?

“Oh c'mon don’t tell me you are mad” You whined and abby turned around to cup your cheek,gently caressing you

“Doesn’t it bother you? That they are doing this?”

“It would but thats so much effort and like…oh my fucking god who caresssss” You drew out and left to go rest on the couch.

“Can’t you two just… make out the next time you are on campus or something ? That will solve things or whatever”

And they did. Not because you told them to, but at some point abby had to help Ellie’s scrawny ass carry some fresh wood planks to her working space in class to build a new canvas and before they parted ways she did kiss her on the lips, hard and long and then she left to attend her own lectures. The rumors didn’t die but people had a rough idea of what was going on now.

________

Abby loved eating you out continuously and tirelessly. She would come to a pussydrunk state where she would lazily lap up at your pussy like she was starving and despite wanting to take the reins and be more commanding,her skill rendered you weak and helpless and a moaning mess, and when you were voiceless from the pleasure your soft sighs did the job for her. And that's when usually Ellie would come strapped up and take you right after Abby was finished devouring your puffy cunt.

Abby unbuckled her belt with a heavy clank once the metal clasp snapped open that signified it was your turn to please which had you licking your lips eager to taste her. Ellie pushed you on all fours and slapped your thighs as indication to spread them apart and got into position behind you admiring your ass for a good few seconds while Abby sat in front of you, legs spread and a cigarette in hand taunting you to go ahead.

You usually took your time,biting her freckled thighs and leaving a path of bruising bitemarks which had her groan in fake protest most of the time. You pressed your palms flat against her legs and moved your head closer to her cunt,your nose buried in the trimmed blonde hair as you licked a flat thick stripe that had Abby flinch in pleasure. Ellie took her moment to slowly slide in her new thick strap toy in you

“Abby prepared you so well for my cock, fuck look at it just sliding in”

Abby was loud, Ellie was vocal, and you loved the combination of the two in bed.

Abby would hold your hair up,a string of praises falling from her lips and ellie would lean in leaving kisses on your back as she thrusted her hips in a pace that fastened every minute enjoying how well you took her every time.

__________

You rarely left the apartment alone since your schedules matched with one of your girlfriends. However on the sparse occasion that you did, you always found yourself in trouble.

You stepped out of the room and were busy locking the door when you heard a girl behind you scoff. You turned to look at the unpleasant figure who hoarded the space and you smirked

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah how about you keep it down at night?”

She snapped, aiming to shame you. She wasn’t wrong. Last night was something else. When you and Abby dominated Ellie at the same time it usually ended up in the rest of the dormitory having a poor night. It was a bit homophobic in your opinion to only target you when there was Manny, one floor above you being just as rowdy with his girlfriend.

You smiled and leaned against the wall effectively walking into her personal space. She froze on the spot and looked up at you. You weren’t tall but you were tall enough to use it to your advantage at times like these

“Aren’t you the girl who tried to get into Ellies pants on Jesse's birthday?”

She frowned and quirked her mouth in disgust

“You are so delusional”

You looked into her eyes,down to her lips and then slowly fixed a crooked fold on her shoulder pads from her shirt

“Am I though? You pathetic cunt, if you came for a fight at least follow through” She tensed,lost and unsure on how to handle this situation when Abby walked out of the door and yanked you away from the girl like a wet cat, holding your arm in a way that it made it look like she only tried to get a hold of your backpack to slide it on her own shoulders. To you, it was a warning, to the stranger it seemed like a gesture of affection.

“Wait for me in my car. I'll drive you” she said and passed you her keys. You left, unbothered and entertained enough for the rest of the day. Abby however glared at the girl and stalked over, towering over her like a hawk in a much more aggressive manner than you did and she seemed to shrink in on herself

“If you talk to her again I'll make sure you end up on the streets. If you insult her, you might even have to retake the exams for a different college” she barked and left.

You were in Abby’s car and had turned the heater on and were already looking at what song to put on from the speakers. She sat on the driver's seat and grabbed your phone

“Hey!”

“What the fuck was that” she growled and you rolled your eyes and leaned your head against the window

“I don’t get why you take everything so personally” You whispered and she carefully put a hand on your shoulder to get your attention. You turned your head and she pulled you in for a kiss, her hand on the nape of your neck. She lingered there to keep you close and rubbed her thumb in a straight line against your spine,the soft gesture contradicting her stern tone

“You need to learn to apologize. That attitude was completely unprovoked”

“Didn’t you hear what she said?”

“I did and I expected you to handle it better than that”

You looked at each other and eventually you agreed and let out a small and curt sorry to show remorse which she half accepted as a first step to changing your actions. Abby, no matter how in the wrong you were, would always have your back in public and would only scold you when she knew you had privacy and were alone and that was something you loved about her.

You smiled and wrapped your arms around her neck and went to kiss her before moving down to her neck to leave new bitemarks near Ellie’s

“You are insatiable”

“You are hot when you are mad at me babygirl '' You teased and watched as Abby's cheeks took a new shade of pink.

__________

Abby and Ellie weren’t exactly opposite forces but they did not blend either, So when you had walked in on them making out on the couch with Abby on top of Ellie you had to take a photo silently stalking in from the corridor. You loved watching them please each other. There weren’t many times that you caught them in the midst of it but when you did you did everything within your power to stay silent and just enjoy the view. That was until your phone betrayed you with the shallow “click” that hinted at a photo being taken.

Abby pulled away first,lips a new hue of red trying to steady herself on the armrest while ellie took a moment to fix her tousled short hair.She looked at you and you never thought doe eyes could look so menacing and mischievous .

“Enjoying the show?”

You walked in and stood in front of the couch, arms crossed as you leaned against the wall

“Absolutely. Go on”

Ellie pulled abby back in for another kiss clearly to horny to entertain this conversation and sucked on her lower lip in need. She followed Ellie’s lead and pushed her lower on the cushions of the sofa moaning into the kiss. Ellie was a good kisser and she knew it, and just imagining how good abby felt had you sitting on the sofa across the couch and spreading your legs to make yourself comfortable knowing you would soon have to slide your hand in your pants to release the building tension in your stomach.

___________

Ellie and Abby got along as roommates but not as people. Ellie kept to herself and in their shared space which was the living room she only had a tray with her smoking gear and a bag of weed but otherwise she didn’t cram the space with any other items. Abby liked plants and Ellie found them to be a decent choice for decor and that was that. Dormitory B5 was known for having nicer and more spacious rooms. Abby was rich and Ellie’s side hustle made her comfortable enough. In the first two years of them living together they talked occasionally and they knew each other's friend group. They did bond once over their shitty ex’s and Abby appreciated Ellie’s seriousness when she came out to her confused and convinced that she was perhaps a lesbian. That was it though. In the second semester of their second year however you moved in. Abby told Ellie that if they didn’t like their new roommate she could easily pull a few strings to have you out but that was thrown out of the window once they saw you.

You took up all of their space, You had pottery items in Abby’s room when you wanted to show her something and eventually forget them there, and you had left your makeup on Ellies desk because you often sat there since, in your words “The sun coming from your window is so much better than mine”

The living room now was full of posters and you insisted on having to spend time together at least on Saturdays. You were comfortable and your comfort made them relax as well. Ellie of course knew what it was. She wanted you and she was head over heels for you and all of that was sealed when she came to your apartment after a shitty 3 hour art history lecture to find you making dinner for everyone. You also had a gift for her

“Remember how you told me about that comic ? So funny story, my friend actually was getting rid of his collection since he is moving out and I asked him to give them to me so here you go”

Ellie actually cried that night, moved by your gesture and when she saw you now all she heard in her mind was “wife wife wife”

But Ellie wasn’t the only one. Abby had magically shifted her entire schedule in a way that whenever you had a free day she had one as well and she would be in the apartment with you.

Abby had never felt lust like this before. If she couldn’t own the wind she wanted to at least tame it and dance with it for a while.

The two of them talked and somehow came to a mutual understanding that if you were to choose either of them they would be peaceful about it. Another silent agreement that they took however was to make sure you would end up with either of them and not someone else.

The first time it happened, all three of you were drunk out of your minds blasting music from the speakers and played a raunchy card game that Abby didn’t even remember if it existed in the first place. One thing led to another and suddenly you found yourself in your underwear only, fondling Ellies chest while nibbling on her neck and Abby pressed against your back, her hand under your panties fingering you while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Just like you moving in and settling into their lives, a relationship between the three of you occurred just as naturally since you felt like the missing link that they needed to connect.

————-

Ellie was unhinged and she was aware of it and it was one of the things that she didn’t care to fix. not when Abby was a jock who flaunted her wealth and threatened with it and certainly not when she saw how aroused you were every time she brought her butterfly knife in the bedroom.

However she also knew that sometimes she took it too far.

She once overheard a guy in your major fawn over you in the most grotesque way, salivating over the fact that you wore a dress that accentuated your ass in all the right ways, and the low v front cut of the top showed your sternum tattoos in a “provocative way”

Ellie was no better than a man because she had noticed all those things herself which was why she ate you out in the elevator that morning and caused the entire building to believe that it was out of service for 36 minutes. However when Ellie thought of that it was different. So she leaned against the door and played with her knife, carrying them around campus under the excuse that she needed them to sharpen her coals for her artworks, even though she carried them for very different situations that she wasn’t shamed to admit that she made use of. She didn’t say anything but when they noticed her staring they did turn around to face her the same time that you were ready to leave. You walked up to her oblivious to the tension around her and went in for a small greeting peck that she turned into a french kiss with her hands on your ass pulling you closer. She lifted one hand to cradle your head and looked at the guy across the hall challenging him to continue his fruitless attempts to hit on you to which he just frowned and looked away confused and in disgust.

That night, when you were blissfully asleep on Abby’s chest she mentioned what happened to her in a tone that indicated that she planned on handling it herself. Ellie knew though, that if word of a situation like that reached Abby’s ears the guys would probably either end up kicked out of campus at best, hospitalised at worst.

••••

heres my ko-fi tip jar if you enjoy my work 🤍

[solomonomenon]

skz's sex playlist | pt.3

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

𝙡𝙚𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙭

Put your hands on my body like you know me We can dance Make me forget about the loneliness all night

→ INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS - GRANT KNOCHE

→ Make Me Feel - Elvis Drew

→ Chills - Dark Version - Mickey Valen, Joey Myron

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

[mercenaryg]

It's about to Undo Me, the stress of the world.

[hwaightme]

Bang bang

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR STAR'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

⚫ pairing: gangster/mafia!seonghwa x stripper/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut, mafia!au, noir, ganster film style, bits of angst ⚫ summary: Bang bang, he shot me down / Bang bang, I hit the ground / Bang bang, that awful sound / Bang bang, my baby shot me down... the words never sounded truer as you hunt for the man who made you fall from grace. ⚫ wordcount: 14.6k ⚫ warnings/tags: barely edited (written in a chaotic flurry), gangsters, murder, guns, blood, attacking, language, strip club, slight objectification, rudeness, bickering and arguing, emotional manipulation, revenge, death [of a side oc], yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, alcohol, money, seonghwa driving expensive cars, betrayal mention... lmk if anything else. ⚫ perma-taglist: @legohwas @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 ⚫ a/n: HAPPY SEONGHWA DAY!!!! May our brightest star be blessed with everything and more <3 (and never venture into what this fic contains lol); much love and appreciation to nora for going unchained over mafia hwa, and for supporting me through the blackout that was the writing process for this fic. Much love, all reblogs, comments, thoughts welcome~

⚫ nsfw tags: hate sex, car sex, fingering (receiving), sub-leaning reader but a hardcore brat, dom-leaning seonghwa but he enjoys the degradation, degradation (whore, slut, cock slut...), pet names and praises (doll, precious angel, darling, baby, sweetheart), a bit of impact play (slapping), orgasm denial, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), blowjob, deepthroating, hair tugging/yanking, manhandling, grinding, spit play, come in mouth/swallowing... whew

⚫ playlist: bang bang (from kill bill) by geek music, showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer, you put a spell on me by austin giorgio, i've got to see you again by norah jones, who do you want by ex habit, woman by emmit fenn, bad drugs by king kavalier, often by the weeknd, chills (dark version) by mickey valen

Bang bang… he shot me down…

You had given up on seeing him again. Searching for him, hellbent on getting the last word. You had been confident that finally, after all this time, your tortured soul could get some rest. That was until your eyes locked with his in a silent duel, that shit-eating grin on his face growing wider as he studied the wounds he had left behind. The invisible scars that were the start of your metamorphosis.

It was not that you had never imagined meeting the fiendish man again – in fact, you swore that it was your only relief: to fantasise about what you would do if you were to physically cross paths somewhere in this forlorn city, and many nights you would wake up in cold sweat after hearing the intoxicating low-toned laughter resonate in your skull. He haunted you and you knew that he was watching your every move like a sadistic predator. As such, the only thing that had driven you out of your madness, the flimsy umbrella that you clung onto amidst your fall from the life you had built and hoped to have, was to wish that one day, you could do the same. And seeing him right there, in front of you, in his tailored suit and jewellery bathed in blood as the spotlights made him look like the devil himself, the notion of hoping returned.

When a strobe light flashed across his faced you saw him lean and whisper something into the ear of one of his goons, evidently excited to having spotted you. After the ever so slightly shorter, but impressively built, undoubtedly a dark-souled man armed to the teeth, surely his bodyguard, nodded a couple of times, and in turn called over one of the waiters to continue the chain only for the latter to shrink and rush off into the backrooms, your nightmare ambled towards the bar. With a quick unbuttoning of his suit jacket, he settled in one of the stools and spun around to face the stage. To face you. Subject you to a mocking scrutiny while you had no choice but to continue dancing.

As he mindlessly took a black card out of his pocket and passed it to the bartender, without sparing a glance behind him, the object pinched between his pointer and middle fingers, you were in your lonesome on the stage, fighting an uphill battle for every coin and paper bill. Spinning in circles like an animal trapped in a cage, clinging to the pole as though it was a thread connecting you to existence itself, even though experience had shown you that in this, you were skilled only in going down. That man who made living seem easy, despite, or perhaps thanks to the darkness from which he was undoubtedly spawned. Your first love, your first heartbreak, your first glimpse into how the world could chew you up and spit you out – life that was a forbidden fruit so beautiful, so tantalising to where through atrocious flavour and agony one would bite through to the rotten centre and willingly lose their senses to keep a piece to themselves.

His eyes tirelessly accompanied your every move as you went through your routine. Grinding against the pole, crawling across the stage as onlookers and perverts – those who you had to call revered guests because they could spend, and spend a lot, ogled you and yelled heinous remarks, you had not felt so humiliated in a long time. The transition to your present career had been a follow up to a series of events that had shut all other doors – you considered yourself lucky that you had even had the chance to catch yourself on these professional branches during your painful descent. And you had to admit, it did pay well. In a couple of months, after you had definitely breached all work hour regulations, you had managed to pay off your fines and numb yourself to your revoked medical licence. Things were looking up, like the heels you wore. Not quite sky-high, but nevertheless, not in the sewers. But now that being sat at the bar, devouring you with his smouldering gaze and using you for cheap amusement, made you feel filthy. With his pristine, clean, supreme ‘I am above you all’ aura, he might as well state that he owned you. Maybe, in a way, he did. Since his ‘company’, or as one would say ‘bunch of organised hoodlums in suits’ behind closed doors, owned this club among many others dotted around the metropolis.

You climbed up, approaching the finale of your performance. Soon you would be able to leave that creature’s gaze and hide in the rank bathrooms until the coast was clear. Even if that meant you had to abandon the bills. Or no, no you would have the time. You had rent to pay, what were you thinking? And you still needed to return the money you borrowed for the funeral, despite you being told that your now ex could be left to rot just fine. The act was more for you anyways – you wanted to prove to yourself that you still knew honour and tradition, regardless of how far you had been swept up by the unforgiving currents of the underworld. So now, to pay for your illusion of honour, you put on a show and flaunted what you had, fuelled by an undercurrent of indescribable disgust.

To the numbing bassline and an addictive beat you went higher and higher, letting the sensuality envelop you once more. If the months that stacked themselves like cash had taught you anything, this passage of time that you had spent nomadic, performing in one club, another, until you ended up in the one where you were now centre stage, it was that professionalism came first. You were surprised to find out just how many of your academic and practical skills had actually been put to good use – well, maybe not things like knowing components of the limbic system but having a steady hand and being able to manoeuvre out of uncomfortable situations in a cool and calculated manner certainly did their wonders. As you performed a high kick hold, and let your toes discreetly push off the ground for more momentum, you were already thinking a couple of steps ahead. The fairy, the floaters transition, you mentally listed and promptly ticked off the items, going from one move to another. It was nothing more than an elaborate ploy to convince those ogling you, some even unceremoniously palming themselves through their trousers, to give you their ‘hard earned cash’. Though, you never wanted to know where exactly that cash came from. It was not your problem, and you were quick enough to realise that it was better to keep your mouth shut and ask less questions. What these men wanted to see was a pretty doll spinning on a pole as if just for them, a fantasy just a couple of steps away from them. Not some amateur interrogator. 

His figure burned into your retinas as you amplified your dramatics, and stole the night for yourself with flair, flipping yourself upside down, only to recover and descend into your final pose. Due to the sweat and the light body highlighter that you had applied to make your features pop, you were an impossibly entrancing vision. A deity of the underworld that just so happened to find it entertaining to grace the local scum with her presence. 

The handsome black-haired man, an enticing, lethal ‘bella donna’ flower continued watching the forbidden apple of his eye. He had finally gotten you within his reach after so many months of playing cat and mouse. You were unbelievably easy to track, never having attempted to hide yourself, but for him to restrain himself for so long and not hunt you down at first opportunity was borderline torturous. Park Seonghwa was never one to wait. If he wanted something, or someone, he got it instantly, handed to him on a platinum platter. But your hatred was like an addictive scent that brought him to an unprecedented high. Each time he had news delivered of you discreetly asking after him at a club, or you trying to frequent an area where he had been spotted, evidently on a mission to do exactly what he was doing to you, it brought Seonghwa an excitement that shook him to the core.

But now that you were here, in his lair, his first club that he had opened, still a junior in the business at the time and coincidentally, still having been in what could be called a relationship with you, he could not resist. His mind had been screaming Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, every hour of the day, and his primal desires grew stronger than ever before. As he inspected the way in which you bent down to take bills from eager hands, coy and purposefully demure so as to attract even more tips, sinful musings clouded him. He could not ignore the curve of your back as you tapped another fowl man’s chin and took what was definitely over his budget right out of his beggarly hands. Seonghwa was tense as he focused on the white dancewear that adorned your body, elegant lace providing a dizzying contrast to the lewd scene as you let another imp paw at your ass as he hooked the waistband of your thong to leave more crisp notes.

The act of a sensational seductress, you practically glided off the stage, the platform heels doing little to diminish your resolve. You were even better than what he could have ever imagined from the stories that his closest allies and bodyguards had relayed to him. And while, San, the man who he had entrusted with observing you particularly closely once news had gotten around that you joined Club Estelle, had expressed your resounding success and renowned desirability on a number of occasions, now that Seonghwa had seen it he was nothing but proud. His masterpiece, his project, his precious little cherub was doing so well. All for him. How could he not grace you with his presence after seeing such a show?

You knew there was no way of escaping the monster, even if you had the ability to turn invisible, so you were not too surprised when you had found the man who had been next to him for the duration of the performance standing in front of you. What you were taken aback by, was how in just a flash, the man’s intimidating aura dissipated to reveal a charming, heart melting smile and twinkling eyes.

“Miss L/N Y/N?” voice equally as sweet, he inquired. Though you had no doubt that his was just airs preceding the request for you to accompany him to his boss.

“Yes. And you are?” remaining amiable, albeit distant, you responded, crossing your arms in a subconsciously protective manner.

“Merely delivering the request for your audience with my chief.”

You motioned for him to accompany you to the back, signalling that you needed to store the cash before any further discussions were made. The sweetheart obliged, and let you take the lead. In your peripherals, you spotted Seonghwa gripping his drink a little too tightly to be indifferent. As questionably possessive as ever, it seemed. Once you and the muscular bodyguard who you discovered was wearing a double holder were behind the curtain that served as a door to a dark corridor, you continued the conversation.

“A request or an order?” 

Absent-mindedly, you checked the quantity of the bills which you had collected - the rest were already waiting for you in the room, courtesy of the waitstaff whom you had actually managed to make something of a deal with: you did not tell anyone about their habit of permanently borrowing beverages from the bar, and they did small errands for you. Maybe this man with cat-like features was in a similar agreement with Seonghwa, though the likelihood of there being blood involved was too high.

“A request that I would definitely advise you to follow.” he insisted, holding open the door to the changing room as you inspected the bucket that had been left for you in the corner, with neatly collected, crisp notes. Your favourite sight as of late.

“If you answer my question.” you threw out while organising the money inside of a sports bag - the storage of your professional life. Once you were done, you shoved the item into your personal locker, sealing it shut and spinning around to face the man again as he beckoned you.

“Kindly, follow me, Miss.”

“Who am I following?” you repeated, desperately curious to know of this man’s identity. Nevertheless, your feet carried you forward, and you yielded to his summons, heading back out into the club.

“Mister Park Seonghwa’s man.”

“Ooh, his man…”

“Right hand man.” he elaborated, making you roll your eyes.

“So no name to pair with such a handsome face?”

The answers were almost automatic. It was not foreign to you to flirt with strangers, since that way you amplified your chances of financial success, but never before did you catch yourself being so passive, even when the intonations were well practised and near identical to what you would normally say. But there was no one, nor nothing, to blame except the hardwired response to the nearing figure of a very specific gangster, on whom your gaze immediately settled as soon as you reached the edge of the prolonged bar counter.

“I believe that Mister Park would not enjoy hearing such words from you.” of course he would not. When did he ever enjoy you complimenting anyone else except him? San steeled himself as he lowered his head, while you let the fingers of your right hand flitter over the counter as you sauntered over to the man who could not even be bothered to approach you himself, despite having evaporated from your life for an unbearable collection of months.

“Then he would not have sent you to fetch me. He should know that I appreciate beauty-” you were testing your luck, uttering the words when within the gangster’s earshot. Thankfully for San, he chose to take the matter into his own hands and, setting aside the glass of cognac with a delicate push, addressed his bodyguard.

“Sannie, is Y/N giving you a tough time?”

Your name sounded precious, meaningful when he said it. Like it had a genuine purpose in this mortal realm. A melodic uttering of simple sounds that drowned out the pulsing beat that zombified the visitors of Club Estelle. Whether that music was on or not made no difference to you - either way, you would only hear Seonghwa. His voice was like a rumbling of an oncoming thunderstorm amidst a nighttime quiet. The rolling growls of heaven’s rage as steel grey clouds stalked across the sky, wrapping the defenceless earth in a catastrophic promise. With nothing but a foggy trepidation in your chest, you slid onto the seat that was to your nightmare’s right, turning to have your back to the bar and rest your elbows behind you on the elevated table. 

“Uh, not at all, sir.” San’s shift in mien was comical. In a flash, he had stepped down from the pedestal of a man who made the demands, to a servant who you struggled to imagine acting a step out of the lines that his boss had drawn out for him. You raised an eyebrow, giving the guard a onceover.

“Sannie?”

“Yes, darling. San. Like a mountain. Isn’t it cute?” Seonghwa interjected again, not letting the man who you were addressing as much as regard you. Apparently, being under his command also meant that you were instantly off limits. How dull.

“Interesting word choice…”

“He is a cutie, though, aren’t you, Sannie?” smirk gracing his lips, Seonghwa teased the cutie, who, judging by the sheer broadness of his shoulders, could probably snap a person in half with his bare hands. Not that the person would complain since the last thing they would see would be that pretty face… but that was besides the point. No one in the mafia was soft and fluffy. And if there had ever been, they had not survived long enough to establish themselves as the sole representative in history. 

“No comment.” 

“See? How fucking adorable,” with an icy tone, Seonghwa concluded. “Now, could you give us some time to speak tête-à-tête?”

“Of course.”

As rapidly as his appearance had been, so was his departure into the lingering crowd. A newbie - even more new to the business than you, was beginning her performance, and had caught the attention of a couple of the regular patrons, and the lewd chatter had picked up considerably. It was apparent, however, that it was not enough to capture the interest of the man in front of you, who shifted his seating to face in your direction, and officially broke open the door into your life once again. Not because you had been tirelessly searching for him. But because he found it beneficial for himself to make himself known to you.

“Greetings and salutations, Y/N, it’s been a while. We have much to catch up on, don’t you think?” you blinked slowly, suppressing a rude scoff. People were still watching you, that much you were aware of. Those were the perks, or the faults with wearing stripper dancewear. You were the fixation of lustful eyes, the cool glass of water that was just out of reach for the hoards of parched scum.

“I have nothing to say to you, Seonghwa.”

“Ah how I missed you saying my name.”

“And I’d rather you keep mine out of your mouth.” a total lie, had you considered your instincts and how your legs had instinctively tilted closer to the brunette, but you were not about to throw away months of fantasising the man’s demise at the first interaction. You had at least some restraint left.

“Only if you can silence me. I know a couple of ways.” he winked, but you pretended not to catch it as you stared down at his hand that was lying on the counter, studying the ornate decal on the fingerless leather glove.

Taking notice of your preoccupation, he tapped his fingers on the surface, making the silver studs that ran down each digit and surrounded the opening on the back of the hand shine in the glimmering lights. You counted the holes that revealed his knuckles, for no reason other than to try shifting focus. You were not opposed to this kind of interaction. Gestures. Hints. Symbols. It was a horrifying craving that started in the abyss that Seonghwa had left in your tarnished soul, an affliction caused and amplified even by the most mundane details. You could feel those same fingers wrapping themselves around your neck, tracing your jawline, making a ghostly descent down your body. A shiver ran down your spine as you tore yourself away from the sight that had turned into a sinful recollection, forcing out a jarring taunt to convince yourself that there were no undertones to Seonghwa’s phrase.

“With a gun?”

He was not buying it. His precious flower, barely dressed and yet graceful to the extent of rivalling divinity, squirming from his mere presence. This was what he had been searching for, all this time that he had denied you contact. You had been a bad girl. Running, thinking you were pure and angelic. He did not want you that way, so he took his time winding you up, making your world collapse so that you would be ready to take the real him. Not the foolish goon that he had been before. You had been so sweet, doting on him and showing him off to your friends. But what he yearned for was the animalistic antagonisation of his very being. The fire in your heart that drove you to a vengeful insanity. Seonghwa’s tongue pushed at the corner of his mouth before running over his bottom lip, disappearing to give way to a smug grin as he noticed your eyes dart to the action. He comprehended your capabilities properly. More than any of those quacks who you had looked up to ever could. Your demons were loud, and yet you had gone to great lengths to suppress them, even when you were the most beautiful like this. The mortal embodiment of Discordia. Truly, the one deity he would worship. The only one who he would continue sacrificing for.

“Ah, that reminds me. Heard about your boyfriend, such a shame really. He was so young…” he pondered out loud, not a single bit apologetic.

“That’s rich coming from the man who put a bullet between his eyes.” you hissed, crossing your arms as a man walked past and openly gawked at your breasts. 

Though that quickly resulted in a not so subtle threat, with Seonghwa leaning back to adjust his jacket, only to reveal the grip of a menacing handgun, tucked away into a leather holster. The visitor, who had purposely slowed his pace, bolted from the spot, giving the gangster one final look before rushing to the other side of the club. As if looking for your praise, or approval, Seonghwa hid the gun from sight once again and gazed at you, softer and more affectionate than before, his eyes transforming to take on more of a doe shape and inducing an uncomfortable pain. When you did not satisfy him, he clicked his tongue and ran his hands over his hair, shorter at the sides and revealing a buzzcut design that had begun to fade with growth. The new style suited him, you decided. Almost too well. It was frustrating.

“Ah, ah, no. Not me. My hands are clean, sweetheart.” he raised them, a hilarious attempt at trying to prove his innocence which you chose to ignore. No matter how obsessively he washed his acts away, blood was more than a rusty red liquid. It was a curse that stained the skin of those who wished to draw it with an eternal permanence, passing from generation to generation until the Earth was saturated with the hue. Ignoring the blatant bullshit, you mused the fate of the man who you had used to fill the void.

“What the fuck did he even do to you guys?”

“Oh you know how it is. Got a taste of success, got a little too greedy… and kaput. Didn’t keep a clean inventory and clean percentages, you see. And I don’t like when things aren’t clean.” you did not have to be brought into the matter any further than that. You certainly did not need to be let in on the fact that your ex was actually one of the best dealers in his district. He was just a little too close to you for Seonghwa’s comfort.

“Sure you don’t. You said the word, what, four times already? That’s why you even launder your money…” you muttered, not noticing how Seonghwa’s elbow slid closer to you until his hand began to play with a lock of your hair.

“Ah, so attentive, counting what I say…” twirling it around his finger, he observed how the myriad of colour from the club’s lights managed to change its shine, and let it fall back into an alluring cascade, “... and not only that, we also do pest control. The last thing we need is lowly vermin poisoning our supply chains and ruining user experience for our end clients, right?”

“I still don’t-”

“Funny how you got involved with him. Of all people. A drug dealer.” it was easy to make you shift focus. One mention of your failed career, and you were gone. So, in a dire situation such as this, Seonghwa would be a fool not to use this fact.

“Guess he was the only one there to actually support me in the shitstorm. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Now, now, no need to thank me, darling, when I did nothing-”

“I was blacklisted, Seonghwa. Do you know what that means?” slamming the counter with your hand, you stood up off the stool and glowered. Oh, how adorable it was when you got so riled up. A darkness flashed across his eyes as he imagined you to be a tiny predator, ready to pounce. How endearing.

“I can try to guess, though something tells me you will provide more details.” he egged you on, enthralled by how you tried to hover over him, but still retained his favourite fragility.

“It means my dreams have gone up a rat’s ass. I wanted to be a nurse, Seonghwa. And yet, as soon as I get to work, the next day after helping you and your stupid goons, I get kicked out and sued.” The only downside that he could see was that he would not be able to have his way with you were all professional and in a dainty nurse’s outfit. Though… he would have had to make some adjustments to the scrubs for that. A few rips here and there would not hurt anybody.

“It really was only basic supplies that you permanently borrowed, and for the greater good at that. I still think the hospital over-exaggerated.” you had been more than benevolent. Overlooking status, background and appearance you had dashed to lend a hand. Seonghwa had counted on you to do that so that he could drag you down closer to himself.

“In the eyes of the law, I am a thief who has gotten away with far too light a punishment.”

“And I see a saviour.” a merciful fucktoy who he had initially simply been playing around with, only to discover that you were so pathetically trusting that he could not help but fall in love.

“Poetic.” you responded sarcastically, raising your eyebrows. Seonghwa was bearing witness to the dissolution of your resistance. As much as you wished you could keep the game up, his charming falsities and unforgivable seduction were a delight that you could not withstand. 

“You know one of those ‘stupid goons’ celebrated his wedding anniversary with his wife two months ago? And then the other sent his daughter to primary school not long ago… Like I said, you made a sacrifice that those bureaucratic little shits, hidden away in offices, would never make. You care for people.”

His hands snaked to your hips, and he pulled you closer to him until you were trapped with his legs on either side of you. Even though physically you were the one looking down, every passing second you felt more and more like a lab experiment or a sample under a microscope. He was dissecting you, tearing you apart and rebuilding you once again so that you would be just right. Just for him. His favourite doll.

“Seems I care for the wrong people.” you alluded to the man in front of you, a shallow, staggered breath escaping you as he gripped a little tighter.

“Do you regret it?” his eyes. Two dark pools which housed your tailored terror, but had to be so lovable. The devil always took on the most beautiful form.

Your silence told him everything he needed to hear. You could have pushed him away, slapped him across the cheek. Hell, you could have told San to get lost - though in that case you would have probably been disposed of and continued your existence as an addition to a faraway landfill. But that was besides the point. Because you were not indifferent. And the boundary between love and hatred was nearly invisible.

“So happy to have you here. At last.” just as he was about to bring you into an embrace, drunk from the elation of your first meeting in what had to have been an eternity, you pressed down on his shoulders, narrowly avoiding the stark white collar of his shirt that was laid over his jacket, and pushed away, hostility written over your features.

“That’s why I bet you are proud of having sold me out.”

“Who said that?” confused, Seonghwa inquired.

“I just know it.”

“And I am asking, who told you that I sold you out?” stuck in what could only be equated to a tug of war, the two of you were challenging each other to ‘try their worst’.

“My e-”

“The druggie. Right. Of course he did. I bet he told you a lot of things.”

“Like how you used me…”

“Uh-huh,” his hands glided up your body until he stood up, and your arms were limp at your sides once more.

“Corrupted me…”

“My love, you’re still an angel,” he cupped your chin and gazed deep into your eyes, noting that it was as if you were reciting something that you had practised time and time again in front of a mirror until it made no more sense to you than white noise.

“Then betrayed me…”

“Something I would not do under any circumstance. You know what family honour is.” Seonghwa did not betray. He acted in ways that benefited him. And if it just so happened to leave others hurt, it was their fault for caring so much.

“Family. What the hell do you know about family?” you were seething. He was burning you. Again, and again, and again. And you were readily giving in every single time.

“Certainly more than you. Oh sweetheart, I know how lonely you have been-” he wanted to comfort you, even if that made him nauseous, but thankfully, you were not in the mood and stepped away, making him let go of you.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I only want to-”

“I said. Don’t. Seonghwa. Look. I- I hate you. Okay?” music to his ears. How you desperately tried to get away from him and from your own feelings. Scared little pet.

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” the phrase echoed within you as you took another step backwards, realising too late that you had let him wrap himself around you like a hungry python. You needed out. This was it. Final. You needed some air. Or better, to return home, climb into bed, and pretend this never happened. Future you could handle this problem, present you was irrational, risk-seeking and a harm to the self.

“N-no. I. I need to go.”

“You know you can’t.” Seonghwa whispered out loud as he watched your determined departure, right up until you were behind that heavy velvet curtain. 

He picked up his glass and studied the clear, russet contents, and let the liquid slosh around to take in the aroma. With a quick sip, he was back to his usual self, and the smile that was on his face was instantly erased. Bored, the dangerous man leaned against the counter with the weight of his body, imitating your earlier posture and commanded:

“San, I know you’re lurking, come here.” Indeed, in a matter of seconds, his bodyguard appeared from behind one of the pillars that was located closer to the kitchen.

“Yes, sir?”

“You see that man over there?” raising his glass, Seonghwa pointed in the direction of one of the very dedicated hounds who was by the stage. He had been particularly involved in your act, and from the moment Seonghwa had first noticed him, to the very last moment that you were up there, the tipsy man had probably dropped at least a couple thousand dollars’ worth of cash. He was the perfect candidate for the gangster’s plan.

“The one in the green hoodie?”

“Yes, that sleazy bastard. How about we cast him as the bad guy, huh? Payment upfront.” San nodded. The method was simple, and had shown tremendous success in the past. He hummed in agreement, waiting for Seonghwa to add his usual:

“Temporarily, of course. All in good fun.”

“Understood. What should I lay over?”

“That a certain Y/N is particularly ravishing after her performances, and will be at the back exit in about twenty minutes.”

Bang bang, I hit the ground…

Maybe what that gangster had said was true, and that you were too good for the ‘overworld’. It was an attractive thought. Perhaps after the doors to the medical field and consequently a wide range of other careers you had considered had been shut, due to your newfound, albeit light, but nevertheless a serious enough criminal record, you ended up simply tapping into your true nature as a creature of the underworld. While out there, you had always been average, here you were a saviour. A goddess. A queen. Maybe you indeed were celebrated and had gifts thrown at your feet exactly because you deserved nothing less. The chasm that was the dark side of the corrupt city might be your true home, and you had simply been in denial, running away from it. 

How easy it was to fall back into your patterns. As you sank into Seonghwa’s eyes, you recollected your time with him. The attentiveness that he had shown you. The way in which he would patiently listen to you explain obscure medical terminology, convincing you that, to him and him alone, it was interesting. You had felt blessed then. And that was exactly why you wanted to erase him. As you strutted down the corridor that ran behind the main hall of the club, leading you to the back rooms that were for staff and artists only, you shook your head. Wishful that this would help you get rid of the reminiscing of the last ‘easy’ time of your life. Before you revealed to yourself that you would commit a crime in the name of love. Even when that love was merely an illusion. Confused by your own feelings, still seeing a glowing red target over Seonghwa’s evil heart while making out golden glimmers on its surface, you stormed into the changing room and let out a sigh of relief as you saw it completely empty. You could meditate on your frightening conversation with the devil himself.

There was something therapeutic about the wind down from your performances, if you were to forget about the side eyes you were being thrown after having been caught talking to the owner of the establishment, and according to some of the whispers, a very desired man. How they could overlook the fact that he was more cold blooded than a snake when it came to satisfying their need for a happy and tranquil life amazed you. With the thumping of the music feeling so far away that you were practically enveloped in a sea of cotton, and the lights emitting a more familiar fluorescence, like a late night grocery store rather than the strobes, sickly colour selections and kaleidoscopic reflections, the changing room was a sort of safe space. You were trying to stuff the bills that you had collected, and the chunky stripper heels into a nondescript sports bag, after having covered yourself up with something more appropriate for a ‘so late it could be considered early’ trek back home.

You needed time to yourself before you were going to black out and make some foolish decisions concerning that conniving man. It was a curse, without a doubt. Not dissimilar to the very drugs you had smuggled, he was hard to quit. And you hated him for it. At least this was what you had been openly declaring, and were not going to give up on. If anything, this was your new habit. Imagining revenge on Park Seonghwa. You were going to get it. Eventually. You still had some hope left in you, even though your feet were currently struggling to hold you up, even in your sneakers, a hint of a fire in your chest as your memories of the man were refreshed. Did he have to look more handsome than before? More refined? More demonic?

When you had met him during a night out with your friends at a bar in the classier side of town, Seonghwa had introduced himself as an ‘intern’, which you now understood as one of the lower ranking goons who did the dirty work. Now, he was all white shirt and spotless sleeves, smooth skin and perfectly manicured hands, only a breath away from being a model rather than a hardened and ruthless criminal. Perhaps it was this contrast that had resulted in the man having cemented the nickname ‘Mars’ for himself, as you had found out from a few tipsy insiders who would do anything for a private show. The god of war, destruction, bloodshed, all in the name of an interpretation of peace and prosperity. The dangerous balance on the tip of a razor, by which you had undoubtedly been slaughtered.

He was a mastermind, a monstrosity in a beautiful guise as he ran, alongside the uppermost echelons of the mafia that effectively had the city, and at this point you would not put it beyond them - the country in a chokehold, the numerous operations that kept the underworld’s heart pumping. An inky fluid, viscous and bitter, one which you had accepted in a pretty glass of so-called love without thinking twice. Seonghwa knew how to make you happy. And the longer that went on, the more of a problem that became. He knew just how to spin thread out of you, how to wrap you again, and again around his finger until you were nothing more than one of the rings that he would occasionally wear to complete his outfits. And in such a hypnotised state, you thought you were doing the right thing when you broke into the place that was housing your professional dreams, and crept to retrieve some of the most sought after medication. Just for him. Oh how he thanked you then. How he had professed his love to you and praised you. You had been on cloud nine. Until you found out that someone had anonymously filed a report against you, provided all evidence, somehow all in the same night, and by the next midday you had already been summoned to court.

The day when you had stepped out of the courthouse was imprinted in your mind. Having received a much kinder sentence than one you had expected - more financial and reputational damages than anything else, you had been upbeat enough to engage in smalltalk with the state-provided lawyer whose name you had forgotten in a few hours. At least you had been that way before you saw him across the street. Lower body hidden by a jet black, matte sports car, black suit, black shirt, black hair… the reaper himself having arrived to taunt you and laugh at the death of your career. A carefree smile had been replaced by a deep scowl as the gears clicked, the puzzle completed itself in your head. Seonghwa. It had to be Seonghwa. It took every fibre of your being to restrain yourself from committing another criminal offence and attack him, and instead watch him climb into his car as though you had been nothing but empty space to him, and speed off in the direction of uptown. A murder most fowl. Of your soul, of your heart. And what mind you had left, you had promised to dedicate to hunting him down.

You sighed as you heaved the emergency exit door open, having avoided the main back entrance out of fear that Seonghwa might be there, or anywhere inside Club Estelle. What did you mean by hunting him down? Now that he was there. Within slapping distance, if you were to put it in an unceremonious manner. What were you actually seeking? Was it your mind twisting your desire for him to simply make a return and instead of stalling on your destruction, simply go on ahead with it and shoot you down? You shook your head, pulling the hoodie that was covering your otherwise scandalous outfit tighter around you as the cool air enveloped you. It was almost peaceful. Almost quiet. Almost.

“Hey Y/N~ you put on suuuuch a goood show, baby girl… fucking fantastic… damn. Was told I could catch you here and damn, you are a goddess.”

You snapped in the direction of the sound, finding a man who was rocking side to side approaching you. Relatively tall, scruffy, with dirt-stained clothing hanging off, unfortunately, a more athletic-looking body. So striking him with one of the heels in your bag and running was out of the question. Besides, who knew how he would act if he saw the cash? You backed away having been met by the stench of what had to have been at least three shots of the strongest liquor in the house, and found yourself with your back pressed against a wall of the dimly lit alleyway between the club, and a line of dumpsters, with this very drunk problem whose perverted grin was inducing an uncontrollable trembling. The longer you stood in this state of a showdown, much like a wild west film, the more he was suffocating you with the overwhelming, acrid stench of sweat, cigarettes and whatever concoction his stomach had made out of the alcohol he had consumed.

“Can I get a… private show, huh? Swear’ve been good just for you baby girl.”

You suddenly felt so alone. Abandoned. Terrifying conclusions running through your head. There was not a single performer at the club who you were more than acquaintances with, and even then, would they help? The club bouncers rarely got involved since the majority of the customers were high-paying, and apparently the rule there was: if they had cash, they could behave like trash. Maybe a dead stripper to them was just the usual night. Who would you have called in the past? You hated to admit the name, the face that floated into your brain as soon as you asked yourself the question. But Seonghwa had a way with situations like this. He had stood up for you before, to the point where you had to kiss away his pain and treat his wounds - though that was nothing compared to the scarlet sight that he had painted in your honour. It was horrific, and yet, he had made you smile. It had probably been the grandest gesture of adoration that you had ever received. 

Still managing to keep some distance between you and the disgusting creature, your brain went into overdrive. You were backing away from him, but there was only so much time before he would pounce. As much as you wanted to just scream your heart out and pray some, well, a very specific, knight in shining armour would appear out of nowhere, you were a big girl and knew that the stories you indulged in reading were not true. In real life, and especially your own life, you had to be your own hero. It was your mission to remind yourself that Seonghwa was a villain. So you tried to project him onto your temporary enemy.

Although the action made bile rise in your throat, you peered into the drunk’s eyes, trying to read his actions. Not quite walking straight, he took another step towards you, supporting himself by pushing on the dumpster to his left, your right. You immediately mirrored it, your hand feeling for the wall to your right. A couple more steps and you would be right beside a trash pile that you had spotted when you first appeared in the alley way from the staff exit – the bastard sure was persistent and did not want to give up on you. You sneered – it could almost be his redeeming quality, compared to a certain someone else who liked to drive into the metropolis and then turn into an omniscient poltergeist.

“Come on, why are you being such a tease? Weren’t you having the time of your life earlier? So sexy, don’t you want to use that?”

He was making your skin crawl. You were trying your hardest to not interact with him more than necessary and stayed quiet. One wrong move and you were going to be in much deeper trouble than this. The sort where the best-case scenario you envisioned was showing up in the news, not so alive and in a ditch. The situation reminded you of a short story by Rudyard Kipling, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, but instead of a face off between a mongoose and a king cobra, there was a young woman with a flurry of ruminations and a myriad of regrets. Though the latter was definitely swaying like a snake.

“Hey, baby girl, are you not going to come to daddy any time soon? I am getting impatient, baby, and you don’t want to piss me off.” He growled, his previously aimless blabber turning into a threat.

Your body was screaming for you to just make a run for it, but you knew better than that. This guy, unfortunately for you, was sporty enough and lanky enough to catch up to you in no time. On top of his build, you had the brilliant idea to wear new heels for your show today, which had cut into your flesh just enough to hurt, as if scolding you and repeating ‘I told you so’ and leaving your feet exhausted. As you stole a glance at the more comfortable pair of shoes for which you had settled, it was as though a lightbulb went off in your head. That was right. You did have manoeuvrability. You just needed to get one hit. 

You neared the exit of the alley, judging your proximity solely by the light emanating from a lonely street lamp right back on the main street. You steadied yourself as you saw the man open his mouth again and crouched further down to reach for an empty wine bottle that was lying on top of the pile you had been counting on. Keeping it hidden from the man, you stepped to the side, obscuring half of your body behind the large trash bin.

“What are you doing you bitch, huh? Answer me. I’ll give you one more chance.”

You remained silent, sliding your bag off your shoulder for better movement, pleading that it would not make a noise. The first glide down your upper arm was smooth enough, though your relief did not last long as it accelerated and came down to crash on some debris. That appeared to trigger new aggression in your opponent, as he practically snarled and lunged forwards, arms outstretched. You jumped backwards, only nearly missing a pipe protruding from one of the walls, and made contact with one of the walls, tripping the man as you did so. You were not thinking clearly, vision a blur, your surroundings spinning. You had only one mission now – survive. While the man was picking himself up, cursing and inspecting his painfully grazed hands, your eyes focused on the back of his head.

What if this was Seonghwa? What would you do? He had betrayed you, didn’t he? He had no right to be in your life again, regardless of your instincts. Regardless of how terrific he looked and how much he wanted you. An otherworldly rage overtook you as you imagined the devil in place of this sinner. In his designer suit, with his slicked back hair and chains that would glitter like stars even in the dim light. The set up made your body act on its own. You were fuelled by your anguish, and each sensation in the present turned into a re-enactment of your inner turmoil that had built up over the time. The guttural shriek, the stinging tears threatening to roll down your cheeks as you shut your eyes and swung with all your might only to meet-

-nothingness. A strong grip of your wrist and a firm chest pressed against your back prevented you from moving. And again, that familiar scent. Your drug. Your demise. The emergency exit door snapped itself shut, suggesting that Seonghwa had only now made it into the alleyway, and an odd sense of calm enveloped you. For the time being, he was the lesser of the many evils.

“Oh, ‘s you! Mar-”

The stinging sound of a gunshot, lulled into an ambient slumber with a silencer. Time slowed, and you swore you could see the bullet soaring through the air, about to collide with the skull of the man whose fate had been sealed. But a blink before you could bear witness to the impact, darkness overtook you, and you were embraced in an overwhelming sweetness, vision sealed with a resolved, mercilessly protective hand. You were spun in a macabre dance, now facing the gangster, breathing against the crook of his neck and focusing on the freezing cold jewellery that caressed your cheek. Nothing more than a sigh, a tainted soul escaping from the mouth of the drunkard, before you heard a thud of his body colliding with the cold concrete. 

You sincerely wished you could feel remorse, but all that you could identify in your body was an insatiable curiosity, and a perplexing connection of the societally horrific event with what had happened to your ex. So, that was how he had been disposed of, huh. The same damn signature. And he was most likely lying when he was trying to assure you that it was not the same man. His hand was too stable, heart was too calm, and the way in which he pressed his soft lips to your jaw, and once your sight was returned to you, your cheek, were all telltale signs that this was not the first time he had killed with you as his prime motivation.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who was ready to murder, darling.”

The words rang out in your head and the realisation hit you, cutting through the comforting fog that had settled over your psyche as you drifted in black irises. The bottle which you had picked out of the trash to serve as your weapon suddenly felt unimaginably heavy, and it began to slip.

“Now, now, we don’t need to cause any more of a mess…” gingerly, the bottle was taken from you, and clinked against the smoking gun as Seonghwa was more preoccupied with keeping your full attention on him. While you were still tame enough for him to manoeuvre, He returned the weapon under his jacket.

Dizzy, you swore you were within inches of delirium. Darting from one one part of his face to another, you soon spotted a tiny splatter of blood on his cheek, and lifted a trembling hand to caress it. Eyes wide, you watched as the crimson spread under your thumb and left a trail whilst you were wiping it away. Lips parted, you were locked in a soundless scream. This was not a joke. That man, no longer a man, a soon to be carcass, crow food, was dead. And without a doubt, Seonghwa was going to tell you that it was your doing. Turning slowly, you caught a glimpse of the aftermath, and the dark dots that now decorated Seonghwa’s side that had been the closest to the drunkard.

“Look at me, darling. Look at me.”

“But I, but he-”

“I said. Look at me.”

“But you kill-”

A crash resonated as Seonghwa threw the bottle against the opposite wall, the olive-coloured rainfall covering the dead body and rippling over the dumpsters. Knees buckling, you wanted to collapse next to it then and there, only to have a gloved hand force your face to be right against his.

“You are a lethal flower, darling. Shame this had to happen.”

“Shame?”

“You’re shaking. Did this man touch you?” with a concerned air, Seonghwa inquired, his breath hot against your skin. Discreetly, he began to step towards the exit of the alleyway.

“N-no… but-”

“Did he scare you?”

“Y-yes… a lot.”

“For fucks sake, these idiots have no self control, hurting my precious angel like this.”

Precious angel. You were his precious angel. So he did care, at least somewhat. You had a space, a chance to corrupt what was left of his heart. Your forehead was against his as you allowed him to guide you out of the cramped space, careful to sidestep when he told you, lifting one leg, the other when he whispered that you should do so. This felt right. He was back. He was here. He was ready to do anything for you. This was where you wanted him. While you were busy processing what had just unfolded and fading into your beloved manifestations, Seonghwa pulled you into an embrace and began to direct two of his men who had snuck in through the emergency exit and were awaiting instructions. After a couple of raises of the eyebrow, and one point towards the bag which you had abandoned, they began to tiptoe around the area, ready for a rapid spring cleaning.

Wherever he was taking you, you had no choice but to follow. Such was the rule. Even if you had other ideas and plans, now that Seonghwa was back, you had to fall into his rhythm, and figure out a new strategy that would not cause a dissonance. Your clouded mind was lulled by his low instruction. Slow down here, now heading out onto the street there… you were a puppet in his hold. You were… a criminal. Weren’t you? You froze just as the two of you approached a parked car, and judging by Seonghwa’s immediate instinct to reach into his pocket, you assumed it was his. No, you couldn’t. This was… you needed to go home. Conflicted, the hold you had on Seonghwa’s jacket loosened.

“Darling?”

“I… I need to go home.” his soft smile fell, replaced with a judgemental grimace. Retaining a fraction of decency, he refrained from shoving you against the vehicle, instead choosing to subject you to scrutiny.

“You are home.”

“Here?” you surveyed your surroundings, figuring out that you were outside Estelle, and luckily, there were no longer any stragglers who regularly tried to make it through into the venue past doors closing. The street was ghastly, located in one of the most dangerous parts of the metropolis housing anything from cheap alcohol and sex to designer drugs and assassins. Anything one could desire, they could find here. Was this really your home?

“Yes. With me.” Seonghwa was reeling you back. A click, and the car was unlocked. Keeping you within reach, he leaned to open the passenger door. You shook your head.

“No… no… I don’t want to be a-”

“Don’t want to be a what?” he insisted, and squeezed your upper arms, as if he was about to shake the answer out.

“A criminal.”

“The fuck?” 

“I am… look… I was… Again I was so ready to-” the man who was probably still in that alleyway, blood spilling like wine out of a glass that toppled over, occupied your vision, and you gawped at the bloodstain on Seonghwa’s cheek. 

“But you didn’t. You did not kill him.” Sighing, he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, not wishing to deal with a breakdown, far too attracted to you physically to care for what effect his expression of affection had.

“But I made you…”

“Oh baby, no you didn’t. I did it out of love for you. You had no part in this except being my angel. Darling, Y/N, come on…” picking his words carefully, he permeated your barriers, crawling into the expanse of your mind palace like a virus.

“I am no angel. The law literally says I committed crimes. I should not be here. I should never be here-”

Evidently this caring approach was not functional. You were simply melting into him and turning into a sappy mess, instead of the coldhearted bitch who he had spoken to in the club. Where were you? Where was the goddess who wanted nothing more but to hurt him? He had deconstructed you a little too much, it seemed, you needed a bit more venom in your system. Seonghwa snapped.

“You know what. You are right.”

“Huh?” still too dazed to answer properly, you hummed.

“Who do you think got you out of a jail sentence in the first place, huh?”

“I- I don’t… What?” eyes narrowing, Seonghwa peered into your soul. He needed you to wake up if he was going to give into his obsession.

“Talk to me. Take a guess. Do you really think that the judge was benevolent? Fuck… girl, you’re naive. That bastard passes his bank account around the courtroom, you really think he woke up one day and felt like being nice just because? Oh no… sweetheart. I got you out. You hear me? I did. Because like hell are you gonna be anybody else’s. Huh, you tried your best with that idiot rotting in the ground. Bet you screamed my name as he fucked you, right? Tell me, is that right? SPEAK, sweetheart, don’t piss me off.”

Noticing how you could not contain your tremors, he released his grip on your upper arms, only to position your hands so that they rested on his waist, while his cupped your face. What was supposed to be an intimate gesture felt like a stare down with a wild beast. His expression was that of a predator, pupils dilated so he could refresh the memories of every piece of you, while his lips curled into what you interpreted as a crooked, pitying smile.

If you did not know better, you would have believed that your love that was reflected in his dark orbs was actually his. But he was a twisted, terrifying man, who could only take. As such, most you could expect was his suffocating coddling, his treatment of you like you were of his design. His cooing as he peered at you and saw how you were putty under his touch. You hated him precisely because you knew you could never escape.

“Oh baby… my lovely little angel, look at you. Don’t you know that I would do anything to make you smile? Come on, you know that right?” he wiped a stray tear with his right hand, and you swore you caught a quiff of blood and gunpowder, blending with a hint of alcohol that was still on his breath from earlier, all to be washed away by that scent you always adored, vanilla, flowers, coffee. Seonghwa. You nodded, which seemed to provide relief for the man.

“And I will never let your pretty hands get dirty, okay? If you need somebody dead just say it my darling and I will do it. Me. You are my angel. And now, let me prove it to you, alright?”

Whatever noise had existed before was now but a soft buzz of a streetlamp. No rustling. Not a single droplet. Suspended in an intimate fog, you studied the criminal, the hardened killer, the bloodthirsty demon in front of you. The one who was so hellbent on getting you to follow him to the realm below, even though you had never left. It was simple. He led, you followed. He told you to jump, you jumped. That was all he wished for. And perhaps this was indeed your fate. Not to be rushing around in hospital corridors, nor to be collecting banknotes in a g-string. But to completely fall from grace for the embodiment of an apocalypse, who more than willingly closed the space between you to taste the lust you had been suppressing, relishing your shared sin.

Bang bang, that awful sound…

The wind styled your locks as Seonghwa sped deeper into the night, abandoning the artificial lighting of the underworld district. From bars and clubs, to sleepy neighbourhoods, and finally, the inspiring expanse of rolling hills and rocky slopes, he was taking you to a place where you would never be bothered nor controlled, yet one that gave you a view of the city that was so breathtaking, that it was easy to believe you could destroy it. Estelle would be smaller than ever, and your problems would be nothing more than a haze on the line of the horizon. The cliffside had been your spot when you were something of an item, with you always begging for Seonghwa to take you there, if not for the alone time, then at least for the striking skyline. How oddly romantic of him to pick the spot now.

Relaxing into the leather seat of the Rolls Royce convertible, a new addition to Seonghwa’s collection - as he had informed before starting the car, you tested the strength of the breeze by stretching your hand out of the window and letting it float. After a couple of tries, you finally got into the right pose for minimal resistance, and pretended that you were a bird, soaring, cageless. The glimmering dots of the city even further from you than now as you spread your little wings and lifted yourself towards freedom. In moments like these, you were happy to be able to enjoy the simplicities, and it was easier than ever to pretend that you were not the Y/N who had fallen so irreversibly for a beast, that to you even his lies sounded like the truth. And, of course, it was easy to imagine that Seonghwa himself was capable of feeling love.

He did not bother taking off his gloves nor, which was uncharacteristic of him, clearing the remnants of the execution off his face, as if it was a badge of honour. Interestingly, the more you observed the gangster, the more you got used to the new additions and even took them as complementing features. While he kept one hand on the steering wheel, he continuously seeked contact with you, the other gripping your thigh as if to make sure that you were still there in the car with him and were not a hallucination. The exhilarating velocity at which the car dashed past trees, somnolent villas and road signs was barely letting you catch your breath due to Seonghwa choosing to keep the roof off, and so to stabilise yourself you returned the gesture. The smirk into which his lips curled was not quite as threatening as it had appeared before, however his aggressive slam on the accelerator made you start praying. What would the family that had not yet disowned you think, if they were to find you in a crashed car with one of the most notorious men in the region? You chuckled; they would probably agree that at least the last thing you saw was beauty himself.

Finally, you approached the secluded location, and fortunately, it was as abandoned as ever. Grinding to a halt on a gravelly clearing, beyond which were two lines of wooden fences that had been set up at the very edge of the small cliff, Seonghwa set the car into parking, cranked the handbrake and turned off the ignition. A deafening silence overtook you as you looked up at the night sky, twinkling stars reminding you of the collection of silver that hung around the enigmatic fiend’s neck and on his left ear. In the absence of machinery, you could feel his presence even more acutely, and the anticipation for what he undoubtedly had planned was reducing the supposed coolness of the hour into a mere deception. Your body was burning up, and as Seonghwa’s hand moved higher and higher until it was teasing you by playing with the drawstrings of your tracksuit bottoms you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

You stared out at the metropolis through the windshield, registering your beloved criminal’s movements towards you. As you studied the glinting whites, reds and yellows that formed the urban starscape, you could not help but ponder how, out of all the millions of people, in this architectural phenomenon that seemed to stretch on forever, on a day when you were not even supposed to be where you had ended up being, you had run into none other than Park Seonghwa. And as fate would have it, you were naive enough to let him take everything from you. And being the loved up, hypnotised fool that you were, you thanked him for the misery in which you found yourself, because at least he made you feel. With him you were a disaster, but you saw life in colour. With him it was impossible to tell whether there would be a tomorrow, but you could exist in an exuberant today. With him, the everchanging palette of emotion had a canvas to paint on. And tonight, you were going to let the masterpiece create itself.

“Take the gloves off if you want to touch me so badly.” you derided him for his eagerness, though did not see any dampening to it. On the contrary, he appeared to be more drawn to you than ever, mumbling a ‘sure thing, darling’ as he unbuttoned the leather, and slid the pair off his hands with his canines to speed up the process. The gloves found a home in the compartment underneath the wheel, to join the harness and pistol that he had stashed away there.

“Good?” he asked, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Good.” no more words were needed for him to pull you towards him, and lock your lips together in a feverish, thrilling kiss.

Oh, how you missed this. How you missed the mind-numbing sensation of his hand on the back of your neck, how soft his lips were compared to his sharp and intimidatingly stunning appearance. You moved in a familiar rhythm, having recognised one another’s alluring presence and only wanting more with each passing second. Frustrated with the remaining distance, Seonghwa growled into you and dragged you by your top; understanding his goal, you rose from your seat and promptly were settled on his lap, grinding against his growing erection that was concealed by too many layers of clothing for your liking.

Brushing his hair back, lightly tugging on it as you reached the ends, you were giving yourself up to the scalding hot hellfire. Your memory did not fail you: the action elicited a groan, and the kiss was further deepened until your lungs were screaming for oxygen. Pulling away, you gasped, only to be alerted by a stinging pain on your cheek, and a hostile grimace on the man, whose hand was hovering next to your jawline.

“Did I say you could pull away?”

“And since when are you so damn needy?” You challenged, slapping away the hand that had just collided with you, and placing yours on his exposed throat, not bothering to ease into the action as you pushed your digits into the sensitive skin, restricting his airflow and preventing him from taunting you with a mocking retort.

You continued to rock your hips forward, sensing your own arousal climbing further and further amidst the enjoyment of the man’s temporary obedience. You watched his eyes roll back momentarily, and he attempted to tilt his head towards you and steal your lips, only for you to wriggle in his lap until you were completely out of his reach, still holding his neck.

Seonghwa was seeing stars, and yet amongst them you still shined the brightest. There you were. This was who he was searching for. When he was at his limit, and could no longer withstand the restraint, he rapidly reached for your wrist and yanked your arm away, making you yelp. To prevent you from attempting anything similar, he used his hands as cuffs to keep you under his control, and pulled you to him. Giving you a smirk corrupted by lust, he kissed you again, only this time letting his long tongue part your mouth, and swirl itself around.

Wanton sounds filled your mind and preoccupied your ears as you parted, strings of saliva connecting you. Apparently dissatisfied, Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and gripped your waist. Sitting up, he mumbled ‘back seat’ and stumbled out of the car with you wrapped around him. In seconds, you were lying on the couch-like leather, Seonghwa above you as he shifted his attention to your neck, leaving trails of spit, and nipping at the skin until he saw the beloved bruising begin to show. Sucking above the jugular vein, he imagined himself tearing you apart then and there. Destroying you. But the way in which your hands swiftly moved to unbutton his shirt was too enticing to not commend.

“Look who is needy now.” he teased, and reached for the zipper on your hoodie, unable to contain a pleased sigh as he saw that you had not changed out of the white dancewear. As soon as the hoodie was off, and flying in the direction of the steering wheel, he let himself devour the tainted goddess that you were.

Trailing over the fabric, he did not wish to take it off, the image of you around the pole still fresh in his mind and amplifying his lust. His lips made contact with your chest as he added more love bites to his abstract design.

“You drove me crazy earlier tonight with those moves of yours. How could you even consider anything else when you have a body made to sin?”

“I think you are batshit by default.”

“Do you want me to punish you again?” he threatened, discontented when it had no effect on you as you contended. 

“By what, hitting me? Two can play that game-” as soon as he saw your hand flying towards him, he caught it and forced it down by you, and chuckled.

“Be a good girl and you’ll come.”

“Big deal.”

“Says the whore who was grinding against me.”

He shifted to untie your sweats, and dragged the material down to reveal your matching white g-string, stopping for a second before moving to take it off too. The bra was going to be enough for him.

“Says the reprobate with a hardon from the bare minimum.”

He did not respond, too enraptured by the sight before him. Your form, laid out and so familiar, and yet, the newfound resolve and the bite in your words was boundlessly more attractive than the mellow nurse in training that he had fucked before. The blaze that had festered and grown within you, painting your psyche and very essence in the soot of detestation was a guiding light to him, a star in the pitch black that he gravitated towards, and wished to take over. Your strength and determination spurred him on and inspired him to make you reach the point of no return. How? He was yet to decide. But that came after he had his fill of your intoxicating body.

“Damn, Y/N, do I even need to get you ready for me? You’re so fucking wet-” he remarked, running a hand over your pussy, with it immediately receiving a dose of your slick.

“Guess you don’t.” you countered, attempting to shut your legs together, but to no avail as your brattiness only encouraged him.

“You know what. I am in a giving mood. A changed man. Ready to commit some good deeds.” he announced to you in a low, borderline monstrous tone as Seonghwa pulled you by your ankles closer to him and began to work at your arousal.

After a slow start, where he languidly circled your nub until you gave out a whine, the man dedicated himself wholly, and soon enough, you were sinking into a sensual paradise. The two digits pumped into you, while with his other hand Seonghwa was stimulating your sensitive clit relentlessly, rubbing the erect nub until you were barely able to produce any sound at all. Pressing his thumb right against its tip, he curled his fingers and beckoned you closer to a climax, stopping the motions, he kept his hand inside as he replaced the finger that was dominating your clit with another thumb, and instead took to rapidly building you up with practised, fast flicks, higher, higher, just as you were about to-

Your hips jerked up, only to be met with a total emptiness as you tried desperately to coax Seonghwa into giving you your orgasm, to which he only responded with a click of his tongue, and a demonstrative sucking of his digits as you watched him with a glazed over expression.

“You rude, unbearable menace.”

“Awh, is my precious angel angry that I did not give you what you wanted?” he asked, giving his cock a couple of pumps before making a circular motion with his index finger and ordering you.

“On your hands and knees, like the bitch you are.” immediately, you obliged, unable to contain yourself after he had denied you what you had been seeking, with that devilish grin suggesting just how much the notion had excited him. Finally, he undid his belt and trousers, letting his aching length spring free, a hiss escaping Seonghwa as the cool air hit it.

Finding your slick-coated pussy with the tip of his cock, he teased you, repeatedly moving it back and forth between your folds. When you let out a whine, rocking your ass side to side in an attempt to deliver your need for more friction, Seonghwa merely chuckled and pushed forward, keeping his member flush against your sex, but not offering any relief. Your wetness coated him as he continued the torturous act, pausing to flick your clit and snicker at just how desperate you had become for his dick.

“Tell me if you want it.” Seonghwa wanted to hear you beg, or sigh, or anything else to suggest that you were fully pliable, but what had come out of your dirty mouth surpassed all his wishes.

“You want this pussy more than I want you, judging by how fucking hard your cock is, Hwa.”

Without as much as a warning, he put an end to the foreplay and slammed his hips against yours, sinking deep inside and groaning at the warm invitation of your walls. As he heard you yell out, he mercilessly glided back until only his tip was between your labia, only to thrust and bottom out once more. And again. And again. Just as he had remembered from the nights he had you before, this left you trembling, and soon enough your body was pleading for more, to which he happily obliged, smacking you on the ass and speeding up.

The feeling of you spasming around him and the feeble moans were an unrivalled art. He positioned one hand to hook around you and held it against the area right below your belly, biting his lip as he felt his dick pushing deep inside you, the bulge detectable by his palm. Closing his eyes, Seonghwa focused on this sensation, thereby slowing down ever so slightly, and moving to hit the spot that accelerated the growth of the knot in your tightening core. 

“A-ah… Seong… hwa…” you mewled into each stroke, hazy and unable to form anything more than nonsensical babble.

“That’s right, darling, only I can make you feel this good.”

Seonghwa was despicable, because he knew exactly how to make you lose your mind and fall apart under him and forget that you ever hated him at all, driven only by a carnal passion. Having had enough practice to study you, you were at his mercy as he provided the exact fullness that you had been desiring for so long, the exact firm thrusts that were bringing you closer and closer to a total fall, and the honey-laden voice that had you turning even weaker.

“My- darling-”

Your climax came down on you hard and fast, and you crumbled into the shaking that washed over you, forehead almost connecting with the back of the seats if not for the fistful of your tresses that Seonghwa had grabbed. Not letting you ride out your high, he quickened his pace and each thrust was making your vision darken and your moans turn into pathetic wails, drowned out by the lewd slapping of skin against skin that was lubricated by your orgasm. Using you as a fucktoy, he chased his own high and pushed you into an abyss of violent pleasure, ceasing to abuse your cunt only when he deemed it necessary for himself.

He slid his cock out of your pulsating sex, dragging it over your clit before ushering you to kneel before him. Movements still too slow and lagging, Seonghwa proceeded to guide one leg, then another down, so that you were ready for him. Lifting your chin, he he peered into your hazy orbs and commanded:

“Open.”

As you slackened your jaw and opened your mouth wide in obedience, he spat into it, and upon positioning one of his hands at the back of your head and the other at the base of his member, he slid into the warmth, sighing as your tongue glided along his throbbing length, as if encouraging him to go deeper until his tip hit the very limit and bumped against the back of your throat. You struggled to suppress your gag reflex, but the salaciousness of the combination of yours and his spit and your orgasm dribbling around his cock as you began to bob your head was driving Seonghwa to the brink of insanity, and you desperately wanted to see him unravel entirely.

“Ah… that’s it. My good cock slut. This mouth is built… for me.”

You allowed him to choke you as he fucked your throat with abandon, submitting to the oncoming waves of his orgasm. Clawing at his thighs you seeked balance, to which he responded by pushing you even closer, earning a muted yelp. The vibration drove him over the edge as he pumped himself inside you only a few more times, before collapsing into a series of staggered bucks of the hips and a muttering of filthy curses.

“Swallow darling, I bet you were dreaming of this- ah, fuck-” he exclaimed. 

He threw his head back as you centred yourself, trying to relax into how his hand that was tangled in your hair kept you so close that your nose was pressed against his pubic bone, though it proved to be an impossible challenge. In an effort to overcome the pain that spread over your jaw as Seonghwa refused to let go of you, you blinked away the moisture in your eyes and focused on the sensation of the hot, salty cum coating and running down the back of your throat. 

When he finally released you from his hold and let you fall onto the floor of the car, you sputtered and gasped for air, vision having grown blurry. While he did not comfort you, nor praise you for how well you had taken him, even though judging from his state you could make your own conclusions about the performance, this roughness felt more real, more honest than the intimacy you had shared before. You licked the corners of your mouth, collecting the remnants of his cum and spit, and crawled up onto the leather seating to be met with open arms, a gesture which, in your exhaustion, you accepted.

Captured in a lazy embrace you admired the universe that surrounded you. The dawn was imminent, with some of the more enthusiastic birds already greeting you with their songs and the distant rumble of the city beginning to pick up, and yet none of this felt real. It was like you were floating in the air, tethered to the mortal realm only by the man beside you. You had taken the liberty of snatching Seonghwa’s suit jacket, considering that the outerwear you had been wearing had been unceremoniously discarded and thrown into the driver leg space, outside of your immediate reach. 

You pondered what was going to happen after this broken reunion, that had been as always, orchestrated by the evil mastermind with a pretty face, currently resting on the seats, one arm over the door, the other on the back rest, head tilted to the sky. When you inspected one of the dark spots on the right sleeve of the jacket, you had come to realise that the dead man, who you had left behind to chase your pleasure, had, amidst his departure from the living, was trying to greet Seonghwa. Using his gang name, no less. You wanted to laugh until tears would be streaming down your face. Double over and, hands hitting your thighs, fail to compose yourself and continue laughing at just how ignorant you were. Fooled once again. Of course that scene had been this criminal’s doing. How else could anything ever happen to you if not with Seonghwa’s meddling? This overly involved, human embodiment of jeopardy who you had voluntarily invited in to share space and time, so elegant as he was devoid of movement, counting stars in the sky, the unbuttoned white shirt gracing his figure like a heavenly robe. It was a shame that you had to have chosen him to glorify, especially since he fit the role well enough to fit into your delusions.

As you sat upright, only to put your elbows on your knees and lean to catch your head in your hands, you mused whether you truly despised this man or not. It was almost habitual, routinely, to curse his name again, and again until it was nothing but an incoherent collection of syllables. It was your shield and clarity, your comprehension of the incorrigible man who, come the opportunity, would shoot you down the same way that he did to hundreds, if not thousands of others. It was heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, but unfortunately true. In his eyes the individuals with families, friends, hopes and dreams, hell, even those with nothing at all, were nothing but sacks of bone and blood that he could scare into submission, or drain if they disobeyed. Such were his methods. Methods that you had looked the other way from, making yourself believe that you were above that amateur, unjust purgatory. No matter how much of you Seonghwa received as an offering, it was never going to be enough. The seven deadly sins were a bucket list for him, and one in which he would outshine every reckless criminal. He was systematic, calculating, and would not hesitate to remove a variable that no longer served him.

You were serene, a ghost of a smile dancing on your lips. Slowly, you blinked, immersing yourself in the sensation of the bites, the kisses that the man you had once felt something for gifted you. Sultry tattoos that you would wear with the pride of a person who had defeated themselves, come to terms with, and learnt to coexist with inner turmoil. Nothing short of a miracle. If this hell were to continue, then you would simply have to adapt to live with the ebbs and flows of a turbulent tide. Hilarious, how you were treating Seonghwa as if he was a terminal disease that you had to live with, but the analogy was comforting. Until the moment when you would receive a bullet between your brows, you would strive to live fully, and remain indifferent. As much as you had wanted to ‘get the final word’, you had come to realise that all you had to say had been said, and he was no longer worth your time. Looking at the horizon, you spotted the sun beginning to stir under its heavy blankets, getting ready to rise.

“You thought about me, didn’t you?” Seonghwa’s voice broke your peace, and you turned to him, regarding his bewitching demeanour with a tired onceover.

“Hm?”

“You were thinking about me, in that alley way. Weren’t you?” so, he had realised now, too. However, you were not bothered to continue this discourse. Fascinating how the mind of even the most evil of men could get fixated on the simple things like a random good-for-nothing becoming a gourmet meal for maggots.

“I am not sure why or how that matters.”

“Would you kindly get the gun for me?” Now that piqued your interest, so you obliged, and reached over the front seats, aware of how your ass was on full display for Seonghwa though he had just seen you in even more lewd tones. After a couple of tries, the hand gun was in your hands, and hooking it by the trigger guard, you tried to pass it to its owner. To your surprise, he refused and you remained standing in your perplexion.

“What are you getting at?”

“You definitely thought about me. As a matter of fact you were thinking about doing this for a long time.” you could not deny that, and thus remained silent, “Remember how I taught you to fire a gun?” the man continued, and you nodded along.

“That I do, but again. Not sure how it applies.” you crossed your arms, the pistol swinging ever so slightly from your index finger.

“Don’t you want to fulfil your dream, darling?” he raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Another game. Another dare. Another attempt at making you feel something when you had no more emotions to spare. You were spent. For the first time since you had first come to be acquainted with Park Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Hwa, Mars, you saw a stranger. A passing face who you would regard, but most importantly, go on your merry way and never wish to see again. No more yearning, nor begging. He was cute when he thought he was in control. You chuckled, earning a questioning gaze from the ghost of your past.

“What is so amusing, my dear Y/N? So delighted that you can barely contain yourself?”

Oh, if only he knew. You steadied your breathing, and through half-lidded eyes, took in the man’s form that you had once worshipped. Everything had finally clicked, and unknowingly, the symphony in your mind was now fully composed, all to Seonghwa’s rhythm. Your magnum opus, by the visitation of a brutal muse, completed. With the softness of a stalking cat, you bent forward and came face to face with this boy, and with both hands, pressed the gun to his bare chest, smiling languidly as it collided with the necklaces to make a noteless tune. Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he followed your ascension back to now leaning against the front seat further from him, stifling a laugh of his own as he realised your intentions. The world held its breath as you dispelled your nightmare, and, light-hearted, like you were discussing daily happenings or the weather, asked him:

“You said you’d keep my hands clean, right?”

“Yes.” breathless, he whispered.

“You said you would kill anyone for me, right?” you continued sweetly, studying how Seonghwa checked the magazine and clicked the hammer with practised motions, appearing almost impressed.

“Yes.”

“Do anything to make me smile?” you tested, and he conceded, brushing a hand over the barrel, and looking up to memorise your every detail.

“Yes.”

“Then prove it. And make me smile. One last time.”

You uttered, admiring how his perfect skin, his gorgeous eyes, his dark soul glowed, caught ablaze in the rays of the rising sun.

Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

[l0nesome-dreams]

He’s looking to get into some trouble walking around looking like that 😈✨ I love some club lighting, so I drew more 🫣✨ Ngl I messed around with his appearance a tad bit… I think I made him even more sexy… oopsssss 😏

It’s giving:

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

What if... you were the Kingpin and they were the detectives? Bonus chapter | BTS OT7 au

Prev

This was supposed to be a drabble... but 7.8K words later (insert facepalm here)

Warnings: stockholm syndrome? Suggestive scenes, yandere tendencies, alluded noncon (kissing)... kidnapping (depends on your perspective), smut but not smut, mentions of death, angry Hobi, angry Tae, bruises, injuries, corruption, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, control.

Playlist : Chills (Dark Version) - Mickey Valen & Joey Myron, Friends - Chase Atlantic Captain Namjoon, Detective Hyung line, Officer Maknae line

He hadn’t said a word since he entered the ward three hours ago, flipping between ignoring you or staring at you so intently you could feel the pressure of his gaze like an uncomfortable weight. There was no sign of emotion or thought on his face, unless it was anger whenever you moved or spoke. Hoseok found the whole thing amusing, wondering when the young officer was going to explode. They both sat on either side of your hospital bed, today you managed to sit up and although you wouldn’t admit it, you were thankful for the morphine that dulled the ache in your injuries. 

You glance at the detective for the umpteenth time in question when Taehyung almost growls, his eyes on the floor, his jaw clenched hard when you try to speak to him. Hobi has to fight back the laughter, how does he tell you Tae was punishing you in his own way for your recklessness. Not allowing himself to talk to you was a punishment for himself too, for the fact they could’ve been too late. He exhales through his nose harshly, you swore there was steam.

“Okay seriously what is your problem?” Your voice was still hoarse, but it had only been a day since you woke from the attack and after three hours of his petulant behaviour, you had enough. You tried being patient but being stuck here because of them wasn’t making patience your strongest suit. “Seriously, I didn’t ask to be he-”

You almost choke on your words as they fly back down your throat at his glare. Coward, a small voice inside of you mocks, but even behind that voice you could feel the undertone of weariness. You’re so glad your men can’t see you now, although you’re not sure they’d survive a second of Kim Taehyung’s wrath themselves.

You break eye contact first with a scoff, trying to build back your authority in a situation where it didn’t matter. If one of your underlings looked at you like that, he would have a bullet in each eye no questions asked. This Officer was seriously pushing you to your limits. Fine, if he wanted to behave like a two year old for no good reason, you’d ignore his little pathetic display. 

Hobi watches your jaw clench in anger, finding the silent fight between you and your expression amusing. 

“Can you get your ridiculous Captain on the phone?” You say to Hoseok without glancing at him, your attention spent on flicking aggressively through a magazine. 

“Why little love, are you upset he hasn’t come to visit?”

You scoff again but he swears he can see you try to hide a sense of embarrassment from your features. Maybe he hit the mark, Namjoon would be pleased to hear of it. 

“I’d like to know how much longer I’m going to be serving my sentence for,” you roll your eyes, every word containing a spiteful bite despite the weakness in your voice.

“He’s busy,” Hoseok disregards the comment entirely, eyes on his own book although he hadn’t read a word since arriving. Why would you want to leave? Did Jackson hit you so hard in the head you forgot what happened? The sound of kissing teeth makes you glance at Taehyung, narrowing your eyes at him before you now give the older male your attention. 

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Here.”

Hoseok’s eyes darken as they find you, he leans closer, rising from his chair until his face was in front of yours. 

“I. Don’t. Care,” he says with as much conviction as you had, his tone dead serious, warning you not to challenge him but you were always one to defy those who tried to control you. Your shocked face contorts into anger. 

“Fuck this,” you mutter, shoving the bed sheets off you as you swing your legs down. As you’re about to rip the IV from your arm, a grip on wrists stops you. Hoseok’s face is blank when you stare daggers into it. 

“Have you looked in the mirror?” There’s a weight in his voice that you had never heard before, his amused veil wiped bare to reveal his true disposition. His eyes glance down at the bruises he tried to ignore until he was forced to acknowledge them. He tried to keep the atmosphere light since his arrival since you were recovering, but of course your bratty nature would force his hand. 

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” you snap back, breaking your wrist out of his hold since his grasp slackened at your words. It cut him, to think of you getting hurt and they were unaware of you suffering alone. 

“You’ll leave when you’re better,” he says, signalling that it was the end of the argument but you could never just let things be, not when the control was out of your hands. 

“I’ll leave when I want to.”

He closes his eyes for a second after he watches you rip the IV out of your arm, trying to control the surge of anger and disappointment. You were lashing out, that was all, he would have to exercise his patience. 

You move too fast, forgetting your own condition as you jump off the bed. Or maybe it was the drugs that had dulled your senses including common sense and reason. Whatever it was, its magic didn’t last long, you stumble pitifully when you try to stomp away, trying to hold yourself up proudly until a stabbing pain in your side forces you to crumble.  

“Can you stop!” 

You’re held up against his chest as he glances down at your now bleeding wound, the movement having pulled your stitches apart. You’re dizzy, looking up at the swaying figure of Taehyung, or was the room spinning? He seemed solid, the rest of the world moving in circles around you. Finally, he spoke to you. You don’t realise you’ve sighed in relief, staring up at him. He could give you his scolding expression all he wanted, you just wanted to hear his voice. 

You don’t fight him when he takes you back to the bed, ranting loudly with so much aggression even when Hoseok grabs the doctor to close your opened stitches. He holds your hand as they work on you, even as he hurls furious words at you. 

“Why are you so stupidly stubborn? Stop behaving like a brat! You’re acting like we’re keeping you here for the sake of it, like we enjoy seeing you like this,” behind the anger you can hear the hurt, the sadness hiding behind the rumbling deep tone. “How many times do you need to nearly die before you realise you’re not invincible!”

You didn’t say a word, taking every stab of his complaints, squeezing his hand when the needle pierced your skin. He stops then, kissing your hand a hundred times through the pain. It’s only when the doctor leaves he hides his expression behind your clasped hand, his head bowed low so his hair covers his eyes. He’s still, too still. 

“You looked like you were dead,” his voice breaks and you can hear the tears before you feel them on your skin. 

You must look like a deer in headlights when he meets your gaze again, unable to comprehend he was crying over this. The others hadn’t so you just never expected him to, or considered he would. 

He sniffs, his tears flowing freely and he doesn’t stop them. You don’t know why you feel compelled to, but you wipe them away with the hand he wasn’t holding, reaching over carefully. He nuzzles into your hand, seeking comfort after revealing his vulnerabilities, bringing the other hand to his other cheek. 

“Don’t do it again,” he scolds you as harshly as he can before he starts sobbing. You watch him breakdown between your hands, the sight gripping your heart in a way you weren’t familiar with. It made you ache, you actually felt like apologising but the words were stuck on the tip of your tongue, your stubborn pride refusing to let them out. 

“Come here,” you say softly instead, shuffling carefully back to make room for him. He doesn’t hesitate, crawling into your arms quickly like he craved to be held. You play with his hair when he presses his face into your chest, his arms wrapping around you tentatively, aware not to hold you as tight as he wanted. You hoped he couldn’t hear how hard your heart started beating, or the rate it was galloping at as a reaction to his proximity.

Just as you’re trying to calm down, you’re startled by Hoseok pulling your other arm around the officer, so you were comforting him properly. 

“Taehyung be careful,” he warns, before leaving you both alone for a moment. He needed to update the others on your behaviour and the consequences of it anyway. They weren’t going to be impressed to say the least. 

“I wasn’t there,” he breathes, his lips coming away from your chest so you can hear him, but his forehead and eyes still nuzzled there as he relived it. “I just saw you being carried out like a body.”

He shudders against you, the onslaught of tears making it harder to get his words out. He thought he was going to have to plan your funeral, the thought plunged him into a deep abyss he was still crawling out of.

“Do you know how long we were waiting for you to wake up?” He cries, “We didn’t leave your side until Namjoon hyung forced us too, when they said you were stable, but I didn’t believe them.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you blink them back fast, it wasn’t the situation that caused them to water but the raw heartbreak in his voice. 

“I just kept thinking, what if they were lying? What if you didn’t wake up?”

He remembers how Jimin and Jungkook had to drag him out on the Captain’s orders, as he begged them to not make him leave you. No one gave into his tears, not the detectives, not his fellow officers. Safe to say he didn’t talk to anyone until now. He wouldn’t forgive them for taking him away from you either. 

—

It had been a week… you were going crazy. The only human contact you had, if you could call them human, were your police officer turned babysitting bodyguards. Or the hospital staff that didn’t say a word to you. You tried a couple of times to make conversation, but they all glanced with worry at the men blocking your exit and discharge which made things clear enough. Hell, you had done similar things in your line of work, but it was still odd to be the one stuck in the cage rather than the one with the key. 

You watch the clock on the wall turn to 8, something about it both soothed and irritated you. The fact time was moving, there was proof of it, but you were stuck in the same loop of a day over and over again. 

“Love, you need to eat a little more or Jin hyung’s going to kill me tomorrow,” Yoongi sighs as he watches you pace the room, Jungkook standing at the door way poised and ready to catch you if you try to run… again. 

You had to stop underestimating them, it was what foiled your plans over and over. So you look at the facts, for some reason these men were interested in you. And the one thing they wanted from you so far, that you could tell, was your attention. They seemed to crave it in fact… So what if you gave in? 

You already tried fighting your way out which proved useless in your current state, especially when there were two of them and only one feeble mess of you. So the seduction tactic it was, it was a bit outdated for your liking but a classic foolproof method nonetheless. 

Jungkook and Yoongi watch the furrow of your brows as you stare at the floor with your pacing, like the answer to your escape was written there and you were reading intently. They could see a scheme form behind your eyes, already sighing internally for the next fight. Yoongi was so close to just lacing your IV with something to get you to settle the fuck down, as much as he loved your antics on a normal day, he didn’t appreciate them when they were slowing your recovery.

Jungkook on the other hand didn’t mind your prison break attempts, he took it as a little game you played with them, like a grown up version of kiss chase. And sure enough, every time he caught you he would kiss you, getting bolder each time he did.  

“I’m not hungry for food,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. You were hungry for freedom.

“If you eat a little, we can go out for a while, how about a walk in the park?” Yoongi suggests innocently. Did he seriously expect you to take the bait? Your eyes narrow, giving him the side eye as you pace past him, that was not going to work twice Min Yoongi. 

He bites his lips to stop from chuckling too loudly, he knew you wouldn’t fall for that again, he just wanted a reaction from you. 

You stop your pacing with a sigh, head tilting back as you groan out your frustration, before you turn your gaze to the guard puppy blocking the door. 

“I don’t know why you’re standing there like a prison guard,” you scoff in disbelief. “As if I’m going to outrun you in this state.”

Jungkook tilts his head, a distrusting look in his eyes as he takes in your nonchalance. 

“You’ve tried ten times before, and opened your stitches twice.”

You roll your eyes again, who was keeping count? But that was the opening you were looking for. 

“Maybe I just like getting caught,” you shrug, taking a step towards him. You see his jaws slacken as he gets caught in your suggestive stare, like a doe in headlights. His gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Or maybe I like being punished.”

He watches your eyes travel down the length of him, his blood following until there's none left in his head, it makes him fuzzy, his every focus on you. Your gaze is slow to move up to his face, as if you were savouring the tone of his body and every muscle he had to offer you. There’s a dare in your eyes, you haven’t closed the distance between you, you were making him do it. 

“Come on Kookie,” you tease, watching his eyes glaze over at the pet name and how sweetly you called for him. “Are you going to keep making a girl run for your attention?”

You tilt your head to the side, grinning as you hum in question. You turn to Yoongi, manspread on the chair like an invitation. His tongue peeking out to wet his lips when you look at him, hooded eyes shamelessly checking you out, calling you to him. He grins, shaking his head softly. He knew exactly what you were doing, the younger officer did too, he just didn’t care. 

“Maybe I should just play with Yoongi instead.”

You bite your lips to stop yourself from chuckling as Jungkook finally moves towards you. You’re engulfed in him in a second, his palm on the back of your head as his lips find yours urgently. He moans deep into your soul when you reciprocate, you hadn’t done that before and it made him want to lose all thought and reason. The hand on your waist squeezes tightly, like he was checking you were real, this was real and not another wet dream. He groans against your lips again, not coming away from you for a second to breathe, this was so much better than anything he could have imagined, the taste of you on his tongue, he always craved it and now he was never going to let it go. 

“Jungkook, you’re both recovering, slow down,” Yoongi mumbles, trying not to sound affected as he watched you both, his expression bored but the way his fingers dug into his thighs would give him away if you looked at him.

His words take a second to sink in, a frown on your face as you tear away from the maknae, a needy whimper escaping his lips as they try to follow yours but you push him back. Your attention snaps to Yoongi instead, holding the desperate man at arms length while he tries to fight the space between you away.

“What do you mean by both recovering?”

He doesn’t answer. You look at Jungkook with accusing eyes, fire in them that makes him look at you with a pout. He hadn’t been listening, why were you suddenly so upset? 

“I asked you if you were hurt,” you grit your teeth, trying to contain the rage that ignited in your chest. He denied it, you remember, or had he avoided giving you a direct answer? His limbs have settled by his side, watching you tentatively with his doe eyes, like a child being scolded.

You tug his top up, revealing his abs but you can’t admire them when they're covered in bruises. Faded, but still there, even after a week. Your mind flashes back to that night, remembering how badly he got hit, of course he was going to be injured and yet the idiot behaved like he was fine. You were set like a volcano ready to erupt, burning rage on the tip of your tongue ready to set him alight but he beats you to it. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” his eyes gloss over as he says it, a sad pout defusing the bomb that was a millisecond away from exploding, your anger fizzling out when he looked at you so pitifully. Your gaze falls back to his wounds, trying to understand why it affected you so much. Your men have died for you before, and while it was upsetting, it was also their jobs. These 7 men that have infiltrated your life have no ties to you, but they saved you that day. 

“Stop getting hurt for me,” you mumble, your finger tracing around the bruise, avoiding his eyes completely. 

“Never,” Jungkook promises proudly, taking your hand away from his injuries, kissing them as he admired the way you tried to avoid his gaze. “I’d give my life for you, little love.”

You roll your eyes as if he were joking, but you could hear how sincere his tone was, and it scared the shit out of you. You seriously needed to get your wits about you and leave.

“Sit on the bed,” you tell him too softly for it to be a command. He does as he’s told without letting go of your hand, pulling you along with him as he sits in front of you. 

“Shuffle back,” you tell him, and he does, eyes looking up at you like saucers when you straddle him, your fingers on the nape of his neck. You tug his head back by his hair, his adam apple bobbing again at the change in tension, but this time it was within your reach. You never found a man’s throat so sexy before. You press your lips to it, grinning when he openly moaned at such a small action. His hands find your hips, gripping so tightly you wondered if you were going to get matching bruises. 

You kiss his jugular, biting softly before chuckling when he swears with a groan, trying to ground himself but he was past intoxicated when it came to you. 

“I want this off sweetie,” you tug his top again, whispering in his ear like it was a dirty secret. 

He fumbles to take his top off in a hurry, afraid you could change your mind any minute, the fabric brushing his hair into a mess. The sight has you stifling your own sounds, but what has your arousal dripping is the look in his eyes. He looked drunk, his droopy eyes trying so hard to stay open and take you in but wanting to close so he could savour each feeling you were giving him. 

You peck his lips, and he keeps them pursed for you, asking for another. You smirk, kissing the corner of his mouth, giving him a little of what he wants before working your way down his neck, finding the junction where his broad shoulders began. 

“Oh f-fuck-”

His hands pull you flush against him when you start sucking on the skin, swipes of your tongue cooling the sting of each bite. He starts rutting his hips up like a reflex, he whines like he’s begging for you, wordless but the desperation is there loud and clear. 

You hold back your own sounds of approval when you feel his length pressing and brushing against all the right places despite the clothes between you. You could lose yourself to this, but you try to keep your head clear, even if every sound coming from his lips made you want to fuck him on the damn bed, be damned if anyone sees or hears. Your fingers find his hair again, tugging it back harshly to ground yourself.

You hear a chuckle beside the debauchery you were making, almost forgetting about the feline eyes watching you. He glances at the string of saliva still connecting you both when you pull away, swallowing air to keep himself composed when he meets the raw carnal energy in your eyes while the man under you stuck his head into your breasts, unable to handle being so far apart. You stroke the back of his head with a laugh, your stare still on Min Yoongi like you were going to pounce on him too, and he hopes to hell you are. 

“You scared away all the staff,” he comments, gesturing to the glass doors of the ward. You have to bite back the grin of victory when you confirm his words, keeping your wits about you. There were still a few people from what you could gather, but you could deal with that. 

“Hmmm,” you acknowledge as if the news meant nothing to you, looking the detective dead in the eye, “it’s your own private show Yoongi.”

You watch the way he rubs his thigh, eyes on the tent in his jeans that look uncomfortable. 

“Or were you hoping for a part,” you mumble, gaze fixed on his length as your mouth watered. You exhale slowly, how touch deprived were you, when all you could think about was putting him in your mouth. “Turn off the light Yoongi, I don’t want you to arrest me for indecent exposure.”

He chuckles, happily turning off the lights with the switches next to him without taking his eyes off you. The message in them was clear, your move.  

Jungkook claws at your thighs when you start to climb off him, a series of disapproving jumbled nonsense tumbling out of his mouth.

“N-no Noon-a sstay,” his arm pushes your chest against his, locking you against him as he tries to kiss you again, lips clumsy but passionate as they find yours. He hums into your mouth like he had a craving fixed, losing himself to the sensation. Your hand finds his throat, squeezing around the skin it could cover. His lips part in a groan, clouded eyes staring into your own. He gulps, you can feel the movement against your palm, pushing him back until his lips were only grazing yours.  

“If you want me,” you whisper. “You have to behave.”

He shakes his head desperately when you start to move away from him again.

“Be good for me Kookie, come on,” you try to placate him, pulling on his belt, “take these off for me while I go look after your hyung, okay?”

Yoongi’s surprised by how he listens to your soft instructions, but he can’t focus on that when you're striding towards him. For a second he really wants to give into this, believe that this wasn’t a scheme and you were accepting their affection for you. But he knows better. That didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge a little. 

He bites his lips when your hooded eyes look down on him, taking in his pretty features with a smile. You lean down, a hand on the armrest beside his own to support yourself, fingers of your other hand softly stroking his hair back as he tilts his head to look up at you, your faces inches from each other. You look like you’re admiring him, your gaze flickering across his face as you take him in. You trace his cheek, the slow process making his hands clutch the arm rests as he holds himself back. He wanted you to kiss him too, but he wanted it to be your choice, for you to make the first move and claim him. He wanted his love to be reciprocated, for real, but he’d take this illusion for now. 

“You’re so pretty Yoongi,” you whisper sincerely, your gaze on his lips as your thumb brushes where he had bitten. 

He thinks it’s a dream when you finally close the distance, differently to what you had with Jungkook, your lips soft against his. You pull away too soon but he lets you, your eyes searching his for something, whatever it was he’d give it to you, whatever you wanted. His hand holds onto the back of your thigh, as if he was scared you would pull away too far. 

“Do you know how often I would get into trouble, hoping I would find myself in an interrogation room with you,” you confess with a smile, it reaches your eyes, little creases under them where your cheeks fill. He looks for the lie in your features, and either you were too good at it for him to spot your tell, or you were giving him the truth he longed for. 

“Is that why you would grin so happily when I walked in little love,” he smirks but it turns into a gummy smile when you nod emphatically. 

“I wanted to see my pretty detective,” your eyes glance down at his lips again. His smile fades, his mouth parted as the term repeats in his head, stuck in a loop like his favourite song. Your detective…. Your pretty detective. 

If you were playing him you were doing it a little too well, like you knew exactly what they wanted to hear, what would make them lose their minds to their dicks. 

“Let me see my pretty detective Yoongi,” you croon to him, hand on the button of his jeans, undoing it slowly while maintaining eye contact. 

You kiss him again, more urgently this time, fingers pulling down his zipper, brushing against his cock. His hips jut at the sensation, his blood pounding in his head threatening to cut off all sense if he didn’t pull himself together. His hand wraps around your wrist to stop you moving any further, but he keeps kissing you, more fervently not wanting to cut you off completely, just enough to keep an ounce of his wavering sanity and control. 

He lets you pull away for breath, leaning your forehead against his as you try to fill your lungs. 

“You’re still dressed love,” he comments, the insinuation in his voice clear. He loved you, but he didn’t trust you. 

You giggle, and his lips lift at the sound, revealing to you just how whipped he really was. It was okay if he didn’t trust you, you didn’t need his trust right now.

“Should we fix that?” You ask, he lets you go as you take a step back. You wiggle your hips a little, laughing when you hear a frustrated groan come from the bed. You’re thankful Jungkook still has his boxers on when you sneak a peek at his figure, the light from the corridor enough for you to see him, but still making it dark enough that navigating in the room would be difficult. His eyes don’t leave you as he lays on the bed, wanting you to straddle him again. That was one boy in position. One last thing left to do. 

“Shall we all do it together?” you suggest playfully, hoping they’d take the bait. It was such a shame you couldn’t indulge them all the way, maybe another day. 

Your fingers play with the hem of your top, pulling it up slowly to reveal your skin. Both men watch intently, brains running blanks.

“Come on,” you push, pausing with the material bunching under your boobs. You pull it up a fraction, the lace of your bra did little to cover your skin. You were annoyed at the selection they brought to the hospital for your stay, calling the perverts out, but it had its uses now you admit. 

“Kookie take your boxers off, Yoongi your jeans,” you instruct them carefully, “I don’t beg boys, be good for me please.” 

The statement was contradictory, you knew, but it worked. Jungkook fumbles on the bed, trying to take his boxers off clumsily. The cool detective finally gives in, pulling his jeans down. The second they’re at his ankles, you make a run for it.

For the first time in all your escape attempts you actually make it out the door, but there’s no time for victory, you don’t think it'll take them long to put some form of clothing back on and chase you. Even still you couldn’t help the glee on your face, that is, until you’re lifted in the air much quicker than you had anticipated. 

What the fuck? You try to look behind you at who the culprit was, catching a glimpse of a very naked Jeon Jungkook on a reflective surface, face burning as you realise he really did run after you in his birthday suit. Damn… you hadn’t accounted for that, not when there were still some nurses and ward clerks around. Wow, he really had no shame. 

You know he’s pissed when you can see all the veins protruding out of his arms where he held onto you, the pressure making it hard to breathe. You still try to kick out of his grasp, but he doesn’t seem phased as he walks back into the empty ward. Unceremoniously you’re chucked on the bed, two sets of disappointed and glaring eyes on your form clearly despite the darkness. 

“I was wondering when that was going to happen,” Yoongi states as he zips his jeans, letting you know, you didn’t have them fooled for a second. 

“I was hoping she would wait until after the fun,” Jungkook grumbles, still very much naked you realise. You look away before it pulls your attention, chest beating hard as you stay quiet. 

Well that was definitely fun, but your plan was foiled. 

“I trust you realise what you’ve started, little love,” Yoongi chuckles, returning to his original position in the chair like nothing happened. “When the others hear about this… they might not be able to hold back.”

He laughs when your head snaps toward him, eyes begging for him to not say a word or you were going to have hell to deal with when the rest of them demanded your attention. Oh you had royally fucked up… You could already hear exactly what they were going to say, the way they would whine and complain until you gave in. 

You still had no idea how long this prison sentence was going to last, and you had inadvertently made things so much worse for yourself. 

—

“Good morning little love!” Jin says extra loudly, waking Jungkook from his slumber in the chair, his body leaned over so his head was in your lap. The boy must’ve been uncomfortable in that position but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Jin,” you greet him curtly, but your heart was already beating wildly in anticipation. You eye him cautiously, trying to hold onto your mask.

Jin had… his own ways to try and heal you. And he swore they were working, which is why he didn’t let up, not listening to reason when you argued you were naturally healing and his hocus pocus physical therapy was bullshit. He didn’t even wait for Yoongi and Jungkook to leave, already climbing onto the bed with no hesitation, the pair chuckling in amusement as you try to hide your embarrassment, the magazine you were pretending to read held higher to cover your face. Your shield gets snatched away from you, the detective giving you a stern look before an expectant one, his eyebrow rising when you didn’t rush into position for him. 

You gulp, trying your best to stubbornly glare at him. 

“What is he doing?” Yoongi mutters to Jimin, intrigued by the staring match you both had going on. 

“Hyung's new medical treatment,” Jimin snickers with a wide grin, finding the whole situation entertaining as he sat beside the bed where Yoongi previously was. 

“Love,” Jin says patiently, ignoring the conversation. “Lie down.”

The change in his eyes is what has you almost listening before you catch yourself. That soft look that turned dark with the promise he would bend you into behaving like you were a puppet on string. 

“Pervert,” you mumble, looking away with an eye roll to hide the fact you could physically no longer keep your gaze on the man, effectively forfeiting the staring match. 

You hear him sigh, but refuse to see his expression, crossing your arms in complete defiance. 

“Yah, can you two hurry and leave,” he huffs at you previous babysitters, “little love’s feeling shy with you both here.”

Yoongi grins smugly as Jungkook laughs before smirking wickedly. 

“I don’t think that’s it hyung,” Yoongi teases, gummy teeth on show as you send him a warning glare. “You didn’t see our darling last night.”

“Ahem,” Jungkook clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, before complaining rather dramatically, “my neck’s feeling a bit itchy.”

He pulls down his neck line of his top, pretending to scratch the skin, baring his neck to his audience so no one could miss the mark you left. He smiles gleefully, looking innocent despite his intentions. You actually facepalm, ears starting to burn at his antics, especially in front of Jin who now was eerily quiet. You were maybe slightly possibly too intimidated to look? You were the scary mafia boss outside of these walls, but completely at their mercy in these circumstances… as much as you hated it, that was the truth to your current predicament, and you were slowly learning to accept it. 

“I want one,” Jimin whines, tugging at your arm, pulling your hand away from your face, leaving you uncovered. Well here was karma…

“I think we should leave now Love,” Yoongi sounds too impressed with himself, especially as you scowl at him. 

“Have fun with the hyungs,” Jungkook laughs evilly, enjoying the mess he was leaving you to clean up after your antics last night.

You watch them leave, wanting to follow them. Why couldn’t they take you with them, you were feeling so much better, why were they holding you hostage here, just to torture you with their attention. 

“Heaven, I think you should lie down now,” Jimin suggests, his eyes on Jin while yours still couldn’t meet him. You dare a glance, finding the man in question staring a hole into your skull. 

“Lie down,” he commands before adding, “now.”

The younger of the two giggles at the pout you wear when you finally give in, of course rolling your eyes before you do. He sits more comfortably, waiting for the show to begin, his right foot coming to rest on his left thigh, his right elbow on his knee, resting his jaw in his palm as he leaned close to you. You could see the amusement in his eyes as they turned into happy crescents at your misfortune. 

Jin lies on top of you as if it was the most natural normal thing in the world, you stare intensely at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than how touch starved you were, close to diagnosing yourself with Stockholm syndrome. That must be it, why you actually liked feeling his weight along your torso, it was because you were stuck here with limited exposure to actual human beings and not these crack cases. 

There’s a second of anticipation that has you fighting the urge to squirm until finally his lips press against your throat. You feel him smile at the sharp intake of breath through your lips, your fingers desperately playing with the sheets to stop yourself from touching him anymore than you already were. He works on the bruises there slowly, inspecting them closely, noting with a pleased hum that they were fading. He doesn’t tell you he can feel your heart thumping against him, even though he wants to tease you about it. He pulls away from you just enough to inspect your face, chuckling under his breath at how intently you were staring at nothing. He sends Jimin a look before diving back into your neck, resuming his slow paced kissing. 

You feel fingers on your cheek, little caresses calling your attention, tilting your head to look at the officer gazing down on you with his full attention. He smiles when your eyes fall on him, his own heart racing. He still can’t believe he has you here, in his reach, where you can’t pull away. 

“Your bruises are fading little love,” Jimin states airily, watching your dilated eyes, wanting nothing more than to drown in them. “Hyung’s technique must be working.”

Normally you would scoff, you would deny it with so much passion and conviction it would hurt them, but you don’t even muster an eye roll. He can see the fight in your eyes simmer to nothing, a softness in them he rarely was privileged to see.

And then you take the sight away from him but he doesn’t mind when it comes with a small whine, your eyes closed, head tilting back as you try to hold the sound back. Jimin’s other hand claws into his leg, unable to handle the way his blood suddenly pumped south. 

“I thought you were meant to heal the marks, not make more,” you call Jin out, trying to sound put together but it still comes out slightly breathless. 

He lets out a guilty chuckle, although he feels no apology for his actions when you react like that. He can feel you tense when he does it again, his parted lips sucking on your skin, his tongue painting you. Finally your hands press against his arms, as if you were pushing him back, but there’s no force behind it. He doesn’t think you realise you’re holding your breath, only releasing it when your lungs force you to. 

You couldn’t ground yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You hated feeling vulnerable and these so called police officers were peeling your thick skin back layer by layer until they got to see every inch of you. And the worst part of it was you wanted to give in. 

A shrill ring makes you both jump, Jin finally pulling away from you when the noise is followed by vibrations felt in your legs. He groans in resentment at the interruption, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he climbs out of the bed. 

It takes you a second to get your bearings back, your eyes wandering to Jimin who’s stare hasn’t broken despite the rude interlude to his favourite show. Your skin tingles at his gaze, a weird mix of soft intensity in them making that vulnerable feeling increase tenfold. 

“Yah why do you pick the wrong times to call?” Jin seethes through the phone, looking over at you as he speaks. With both sets of eyes on you still lying down, you felt your limbs gear into motion, sitting up and pushing your embarrassment out of existence. You seriously needed to get out of here before you lost all shred of your dignity and pride. How were you going to face your men and lead them into criminal chaos after this? Who knows what was happening to your empire when you were stuck here playing some sick game of house. 

Jin sighs through the phone, walking over to you and holding it out or you to take. 

“It’s for you,” he grumbles, pacing the room when you take it from him. 

One look at caller ID has your nerves on edge, little butterflies in your stomach that you shoot down one by one. 

“Nice of you to visit your favourite criminal,” you say in place of greeting, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t even send me flowers, but it’s so good of you to call.”

“Yoongi tells me you’re misbehaving, little love,” he says through the line, revealing why he was prompted to call at all. “Can’t you behave just this once, for me?”

Your heart thumped so hard at his voice you’re sure Jimin and Jin heard it going off the sudden smirks on their faces, or maybe it was the look on your face you were now schooling. You swallow before answering, berating yourself for reacting. It was always your bad behaviour that made the Captain pay you any attention you realise, what you were going to do with that information, you didn’t know just yet. 

“I’d like to see you try to make me behave, Captain Kim,” You challenge. “Come and give it a go, I’d like to see you fail.”

He chuckles, the sound making you want to smile too but you fight it. 

“Are you missing me that much Love?” 

The audacity and confidence in his tone makes you want to deny it outright. If you were, you would take that confession to the grave. 

“Mmmm I’ll show you just how much if you agree to let me go,” you tease through the line, watching Jimin bite his lips at your tone. “Come on, you can’t be that concerned if you send your underlings to do your dirty work.”

“Did she just call us underlings?” Jin spits comically but outraged, eyes turning into angry saucers as he starts ranting at Jimin about your ungratefulness. 

Namjoon turns quiet, it has your confidence faltering, eyes on your bed sheets as you pick at a nonexistent stray thread. Insecurity was a new feeling, and you didn’t like it. You didn’t even know why it reared its head, but something was forcing you to gain his reassurance. 

“You really have no idea, do you?” he breathes through the line after what feels like a lifetime. “Be patient love, I’ll show you just how concerned I am.”

“Promise?” You try to sound like you were joking, your inner voice berating you for behaving so weakly, but you blamed it on being stuck in this place. It was a side effect of your current situation, you weren’t in your throne right now, you were recovering and it wasn’t just your body that needed healing. 

“I promise,” the deep timbre of his voice that could rival Taehyung’s made your heart flutter against your wishes. “Now be good.”

“I can’t guarantee it,” you reply, feeling the end of the conversation nearing, and you didn’t want it to. 

He chuckles again unsurprised, and you wish he was here for you to witness it. 

“I have to go, little love,” he says, knowing exactly what you were doing. 

“So go,” you say as nonchalantly as you can. “Who’s stopping you? I’m a busy woman anyway, running an empire and all- oh wait no, I’m stuck here.”

Your eyes narrow as if he could see you, hoping you filled your voice with enough venom to cover your previous vulnerability. 

“Well since you’re recovering so well I guess we can give you a reward,” he states. “Leave it with me, I can’t have your empire crumbling, you would never forgive me.”

“Or just let me leave.”

“No.”

You huff, passing the phone back to Jin without a goodbye, turning away from them, trying to conceal the fact that your heart ached for reasons unknown to even yourself. 

—

You’re asleep when Namjoon steps through the ward doors, the lights are all off, only the dim hum of them peered through from the corridor but he could see your figure perfectly. Taehyung was asleep beside you, it both warmed his heart and struck a chord of jealousy in him, watching the officer holding you so tightly against his chest, slotting behind you perfectly. Yoongi doesn’t say a word in greeting, just nodding from his chair to acknowledge the new presence, his arms crossed as he stayed guard. 

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Yoongi whispers his discontent as Namjoon’s thumb brushes against your temple and cheek, watching you breath with a silent fondness. 

He only gives the older male a look, not piercing but a testament to his decision being final. He leaves his gift on the bedside table, turning away from you to leave while he still could. He had been away from you for too long, the abstinence carved a cavity in his chest but he had little choice in the matter. 

The higher ups were watching him, he still had an inquiry about that night, covering it up was proving to be more difficult than he hoped. Not to mention the bribes he was pulling to make the matter go away, he barely had time to eat in the day or sleep at night, but it would all be worth it when it was over and dealt with. 

Yoongi watches him leave, noting the tiredness in his eyes, the slouch in his form, glad that their Captain was handling it and trusting him completely that he would. The worst case scenario running through their minds was imprisonment, they barely could keep tabs on you in the world. How were they meant to, if you were stuck in one site, and they were chained away in another?

His eyes fall on you, the peace in your features as you sleep. They would never let it come to that. In his peripherals, Namjoon’s ‘gift’ catches his attention again, the detective almost scowling at it. Your phone taunted him with the reminders of what came with it, they just took you away from the dangers of that life, why was Namjoon letting you handle your business when the only thing you should be focusing on is rest. He grumbles to himself. At least it would make you happier in the morning.

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[flyingwide]

hello, Freyden friends, you should listen to "Ur Perfect I Hate It" by Mickey Valen and Emilia Ali because it might be the most Freyden song i've ever heard

Figured that I’d self sabotage by now I get so scared of problems that I haven’t even found yet I’m sick of looking for an easy way out 'Cause the truth is If it blows up, it’ll still be worth it to me (Breathe) But I’m tongue-tied 'Cause you love me and my little dark mind Didn’t run away when you saw inside I tried to keep you away But I gotta face it I like what we have, don’t want to stain it Fuck, I think I’m gonna have to stay in this Face it You’re perfect, I hate it

[falkendreamsxxx]

The Best Kept Secrets Are Curses

Chapter 17 is out on AO3 and FFN!

We are getting SO close to these enemies finally becoming lovers!!!

[alesbianwholifts]